Ride to Munnar: Rapture in a Tea cup

Caveat: You are wasting your time reading this story. The ride to Munnar is not something about words, It’s about a completely different dimension, and no words or pictures can ever begin to describe what was experienced. I wrote this story, so that I could go back to it in times of despair and remind myself that what wonderful times I have lived.




"Green are all colours, the ones in a rainbow,
Green is the mist or the tinge in the new snow
The halo of the hills or the ladybug's sheen
Dream any colour you like, because dreams are also green"



How much of a life is it, if its not spent aspiring higher things? Munnar had been the jewel in the crown, or that thorn in the flesh whichever way you look at it, which needed to be conquered at the right time, to wit, monsoon. After deciding that any more waiting would be fatal to our longing I decided that I wanted to go on the first opportunity. The window opened on 23rd-26th June when both Arun and I, the aspiring travelers would be able to take days off from their daily bread earning activities.

22nd June:
I have failed to understand why in most of my rides the beginnings have been disastrous. It is difficult to believe that this is the makers message for me to stop, why else would he shower me with bliss and give me an unparalleled high on those rides? I cannot but conclude that it must be a guardian angel compensating a more deadly blow by a gentler but disastrous looking setback initially.

2030 hrs: 3 Kms into my ride my petrol bike putters and gives up. Reason: fuel. A friendly fiero wallah who is relieving his bladder on the roadside comes to my rescue and chucks his left leg on my rear foot peg and drives me 1 Kms to a petrol bunk. I get a full tank and ready to go.
Slowly it starts showering; the newly purchased rain jacket stands in good stead. I am thinking about what is it going to be like in Munnar if it showering over here. 2230 hrs: dinner at Kanakapura highway. We start again as the road becomes petulant and I slowly start cursing every small speed breaker which stands there waiting for me grinning at my plight. It is thundering in the distance without sound. But the
flash of light enables me to see that the sky is laden with clouds and the road is full of potholes, and adorned by trees of various sizes. Again and again white mice cross the road 10 meters ahead of us, and I am not sure if it’s my bike that triggers their crossing my path.

2350 hrs: An inexpensive but comfortable accommodation is found at Kollegal at Geetha lodge, which apparently remains open throughout the night. Arun and I solemnly promise to be on the road by 0600 hrs next morning.


23rd June:
Though I am just 150 Kms from my home, I am already breaking out of control today, I just want to hop out of bed and hop in to my bike's saddle. I am feeling fidgety like a person who is headed home and his bus has suffered a breakdown. The culprit of this feeling is the plan which is drawn to make me reach Munnar today itself.

One of the most important things that I have cultivated while riding is patience. Be it in the form of overtaking the slow truck, which hogs the road, or the rains, which seems to be growing stronger with the evening, or a flat tyre, which threatens to spoil you, plan for the rest of the ride.
Patience always sees you through. Patience sees me through the morning when we take ages to get ready, have breakfast and ask directions for our immediate destination.

We are on the road at 0830 hrs and headed for Avanashi via a less traveled state road. This road can be reached via a right diversion before Anasur, the road is not exactly smooth but the bumps are also soft and a speed of 75 Kmph and a few bursts of 90 Kmph can be managed easily. The landscape is very pretty; it seems to have rained here in the previous days. The danger of slick rain roads is looming but we have chosen this season for exactly the same reason. If there is no challenge there is no victory.

The villagers on the wayside look at us in amazement for driving so fast and some of the kids wave like anything, I have a big grin under my helmet but to make it more visible I wave both my hands for a second. A wild turmoil stirs the kids. A trickle of Tibetan folks keeps coming awhile from the opposite side on an assortment of mopeds and hero-Hondas. A few are standing by the side of the road wearing their traditional gowns and having their peculiar hairstyle. I wonder what do they have to do with this part of the land.

The fields on both the sides are open and without crop except for the weed, which is uninvited but adds to the charm. The colour of the soil is brownish black and in the background coconut trees are swaying in the wind. Some rocky monoliths are simply there staring at us without expression. The canvas looks straight out of Van Gogh’s Arles series. A bicyclist stops a safe distance from us and watches the proceedings in silence. I click some photos and grin at him, the chap is simply stands there amazed at why would anyone care to take a picture of a haystack, but smiles back and then moves off.

Some more Tibetan dudes and beautiful Tibetan girls with their colourful hairstyles on a scooty come from the opposite direction or are moving in our direction. We go through various villages and some bad roads and then some distance ahead I sight a pole with what are unmistakably Tibetan prayer flags. Some folks are washing a car outside the settlement and some are simply sitting there smoking beedi. I feel terrible for these folks to be so far away from their motherland because of no reason but human vanity. I try to imagine what I would feel like if I were ever evicted from my own homeland and then forced to live off somewhere without anyone raising so much as an eyebrow. This is real world where everyone must learn to take care of themselves.

1200 hrs: A check post announces the first of a series of Rajeev Gandhi parks. After the check post the minor ghats start and then move on the road improves and so does our speed. After some twists and turns the landscape starts turning green at an immense pace. Such a place easily beckons for a break and I stop to quickly to click a couple of pics while Arun catches up with me. Then again it’s the game of throwing the bike around the corners and managing the pace. Some buses are overtaken very rapidly and things are absolutely on track.
We are already into TN, and as soon as the ghats end a mast smooth road awaits us. I spot that road from a distance and twist my wrist. 90-100-110-115-118 and then I start slowing down again, suddenly a big animal that resembles a bison is spotted having breakfast on the edge of the road. I slow down and turn around the bike. This huge thing is a Gaur. It is twice the size of a normal bull and its muscles are good enough for a couple of Arnolds. We would definitely not like this guy to become interested in us, and so we slow down a good distance away from him, click pics and then take off again.
The sunrays start striking on my neck again and the air becomes warm and humid as against the morning Kollegal chill. Soon Pulliyampatti arrives and we take a break to fill ourselves. Parapu vadas are hogged upon as I eat 4 Arun eats many more, tea is had, then we get out bikes refueled for the voyage to follow. A diversion towards Avanashi is enquired about and soon we are flying towards Avanashi. Every alternate bike in this area is a diesel bullet Taurus. They make a terrific sound but have a low load carrying capacity but it is no mean feat to mount a diesel engine on a motorcycle. Soon we pass Avanashi and then stop at palladam for a swift cold drink.
It is confirmed that we are in hard-core Tamil country by the numerous pictures of rajanikant adorning tailor shops, hair saloons, and even mechanic shops. But Arun knows Tamil well and gets us around this place really well.

1430 hrs: Here onwards starts the windy section. If you ever want to know what crosswinds are go from palladam to udumalaipette. I reckon these winds blow at not less than 60 Kmph in cross directions and it is hard to keep ones bike on a straight line. Various companies have utilized this appropriately and there are more windmills than trees in the 40 Kms of windy stretch. Wherever you see there are two blade versions, three blade versions, government and privately owned windmills everywhere, and they are spinning. I cruising along at 80 and gauge that the tip of the rotor is at a faster pace then mine. Due to constant winds in once direction the groves are all bent away and coconut trees have the same appearance as Rajesh Khanna's hairstyle in the movie "Avatar".

Udumalaipette arrives and we take lunch on banana leaves. Tamil meal of rice, sambhar and rasam does the job. Munnar is 80 Kms from here. We take the deviation towards Munnar and then a deviation towards Amravathi dam. This place has a crocodile park. The crocodiles are just lazing there, sitting like granite-sculpted statues and no amount of movement can disturb their slumber. Then suddenly one huge one wakes up walks up 3 meters again to drop dead. This is a funny place; I reckon I’ll remember for years.
The dam itself is huge and at its base workers appear like ants trying to move about. A sainik school around the place reminds me of how I wanted to join the army when I grew up and how I ended up becoming an engineer and trying to let my adventurous spirit break out. Then we rejoin the original road and enter Indira Gandhi national park. A herd of stags and deer is sighted in the distance but the rumbling of the bikes makes them scuttle off quickly, I slow down my bike for the rest of the journey in the hope of catching sight of a few more wild animals. A lot of langurs are dancing and playing games on the top of a check post, which announces the Kerala border.

There is dense jungle everywhere and a rivulet is gurgling about in a gorge below. But it cannot be seen because of the thick rain-trees. Briefly some leaves can be seen shaking violently as a result of water falling around near them, but the stream itself is not visible.
The road is good, and occasionally a jeep comes in from the opposite direction.
We stop and admire the Tarzan country, which is all around us. A central stream of river now visible in some parts as waterfalls surrounded every inch of the space by trees, herbs, weeds and vines. The stream runs two or three miles before turning into the side of the valley in which it is traveling. The weather is already turning chill even though it is just 1730 hrs.
Shortly afterwards we enter Maraiyur. The number of resorts beckoning us make me think what Munnar would be just 42 Kms ahead. We debate shortly whether to stay here, because the aura of this place is superb, with hills on one side and an open field on the other side where kids are having a ball. Just beside this field is the valley and a grand view of the hills towering into the air, their peak covered with clouds so that you cant estimate how tall they are. We decide to go out of this place and then check into the first available place. With this resolution we move ahead.
The sights start getting intoxicating, but we want to reach Munnar before dark. Rains...when will they start? We are already in Munnar; the luck is definitely on our side. 'Ride like you don't have a destination’ is a nice phrase but when on a bike you got to give it a break when you see so stunning imagery. Among the green flat tea gardens which flow like a 1 meter thick silken carpet all over this place, there is a bougainvillea blooming with full spiritual force in magenta and a spring flowing in an array, very innocent of the willingness to live that it induces in me. I am cut off from everything for just one moment. From my friends, folks, worries, desires they all simply vanish in this moment. It’s most definitely some spiritual vibration.

We then ride on towards Munnar, and every bend and turn has most beautiful Rock Springs, even a single one of which would have brought folks flocking in Bangalore.
We reach Munnar and Arun patiently asks everyone who knows about a nice place to stay. We move towards devikulam about 8 Kms from the Munnar town and find a grand place at Spring Dale resort for which one has to break straight from the road instead of going right.
The trees are swishing and our dry shoes are off for the day.


24th June:
If we had stuck to the plans we should have been heading towards Thekkadi at 0800 hrs. But plan’s changed. We both want to see Munnar first. We will be back exclusively for Thekkadi later. Arun takes his time to pack things for the day and smoke, meanwhile I head out towards the Thekkadi road for a short ride, take a diversion about half kilometers and find myself perched overlooking the sub-jail, I dare not fish my camera out for the moment, but the view is absolutely stunning. The morning haze is just lifting like a curtain and a couple of birds are whistling in en effort to find a mate. There is absolute stillness and a pastoral silence. It is green all around and the morning chill makes the teeth chatter. But there is freshness all around.
In another 10 minutes I meet Arun and we head off towards Top Station, which is 25 Kms from Munnar. As soon as we come out of Devikulam a divine sight greets us. Mounds and mounds of hills covered in tea, one after the other and they look like a community of turtles sleeping away to eternity. The ones on the other edge of sight are still covered in mist and cannot be seen; only an outline can be made out. A British era house stands in the corner of this panorama. The guard informs us that this estate, like many others, is owned by the Tata group. We then move along the road and reach Munnar, and take a diversion after a bridge towards Top Station. The now usual sight of eucalyptus trees and their mystic smell is all around. The road is heavenly, without potholes. The place still has a totally undisturbed aura of the British. The estate managers walk around in shorts, toting their batons and wearing hunting caps, complete with leather badges.
We stop for a view of the Kadala dam, which is enroute. The water is not full and it has still not rained enough to fill up the lake here but the sidelines, which display the waterline, are of a different shade. From the opposite side come the yellow tractors loaded with tealeaves. I fall in love with these toy machines, painted yellow to mix aesthetically with the greenery and be visible from a distance; they look like old diesel locomotives.
1130 hrs: We have breakfast at the nearby Noori Coffee house and push towards the top station, where towards the end, the road becomes treacherous. Deforestation is in swing to make way for tea estates. As I ride towards top station a spectacular view hits me hard in the face and wakes me up as if from a sleep. Ahead are mountains covered at the top in clouds which and as far as the eyes can see there is pristine beauty. The clouds are waking up and taking over the hills at a fast pace and move in a harmony. I could spend hours just sitting still over here. At the top station I spot the kurunji plant, which gives this southern region its name. This plant blooms every twelve years and will bloom in Dec 2006 next.
On the opposite side are some tribal huts visible like specks of dust, a trekking trail and a demarcation for an upcoming tea estate. Rocks and an infinite number of springs and the cold winds blow into my face. The woods are all around and the next time I am here I will be trekking these parts even if I am alone. A minor river is visible as a small groove in the landscape.
What is a river, is it the land? Nobody calls a groove a river if it does not have water, then is it the water that we call a river? The water is moving constantly and what I call a river now, will be an ocean a week later. People and nations are like rivers too, and you can’t define them but they exist and make their presence felt in a unique way.
1230 hrs: I move about at the top while Arun peeks into the binocular and tries to spot an ibex, and is later informed that the Tahr (Neelgiri Ibex, known as Varayad in the local language) doesn’t live in these hills. We then have a masala chai at a nearby dhaba and head back towards Munnar.
The way back is full of various sights and events like the sighting of a family of wild elephants. The parents walk around leisurely eating the grass while the tiny one is excited abut the world about him and his mother puts him back on track at regular intervals. We stop and watch this play for 15 minutes and then head back to Munnar amidst this intoxicating scenery. Enroute is an Elephant waiting to earn his master some morning tea. “Sawari?” I nod in the negative and point to my bike ‘I got this to ride!’ he grins, “enna petrol illi”.
Next stop is Rajamala, the home to Eravikulam national park. As soon as we are out of Munnar a beautiful view appears in the extreme distance. Out of the greenery that surrounds us, a white monolith juts out of the ground, and in the center of this huge distant rock is a stream hurtling down. The trunk down portion of this rock is covered in woods and clouds. This is the place we have to go to, Eravikulam national park, the home to the Neelgiri Tahr.
We reach the waterfall at the center of the monolith after a forty-minute ride. The water gushes down the rock and under a steel platform erected to let the vehicles pass. From here we take a view into the “swarga” as depicted in the epics. Greenland all around in the sloping valley, and clouds gushing into it with a speed, A cloud hits our feet and we are soon blanketed by it. It starts drizzling and visibility is reduced to a few feet, then the way it had come this haze disappears, and we are all left wet and cheerful. We prowl around in quest for the Tahr, but it is nowhere to be seen. After an hours toil for the Tahr when we trek the park road, the Tahr is still too shy to reveal itself. But the views from this place will be remembered for a long time. We promise ourselves to come back again in the quest for the Tahr and exit with a heavy heart from the national park.
Since we have no urgent business in Munnar town we decide to go riding towards Maraiyur again, and stop at the first teashop we would find. 1820: the first teashop in this direction is found after 30 Kms of riding. Arun quickly enquires if there is a waterfall nearby, even though with the kind of scenery you don’t really need to be thirsty about waterfalls. It is determined that the closest one is 1 ½ Kms ahead. There we go again and spot a couple of villagers lighting up a bonfire at a twisty corner. Arun enquires, “Where is the waterfall around?” “Which one? There is one at ½ Kms another at 2 Kms and another…”
1840 hrs: We stop at the waterfall and I go down to the rock and lie down.

After 10 minutes we decide to head back. It is dark now and after a bend the bonfire that was being lightened previously appears. We stop our bikes and sit around the fire in this absolute wilderness. We talk about various things including how a log about this trip would be quite a wasteful effort because nothing would ever be able to describe the place. After 1 ½ more hours of chitchat, we head back to the guesthouse. On the way back I see a huge stone shaped creature that is moving roughly 20 meters ahead of me, I quickly kill my engine. It is a huge porcupine with zebra like black and white quills all erect, and it quickly rushes into the tea garden. We stop and look around but it cannot be spotted, we then head home and announce the end of a special day of our lives.


25th June:
The day when we have to leave Munnar. My brain feels heavy, could it be the effect of cold air, I muse, but the air wasn’t that cold also, I know inside. We leave at 0615 hrs in our quest for the elusive Tahr towards Eravikulam national park.

I catch the first morning streak shooting out of the clouds. The hills are all dark and only silhouettes yet, the trees sway in the cool breeze and the horizon has a green tinge. The clouds are heavy today and probably after a two-day peace it will rain.
We rip towards Rajamala because we have no intention of missing the Tahr today. The Rajamala peak is totally covered in clouds and the milky stream is not visible from the same spot as yesterday.
0710 hrs: We reach there without delay and on the targeted time. Soon we are off on the lookout for the Tahr. Arun determines from the guard, the exact spot where we are likely to find the Tahr and we start our trek in that direction. Just after the last point of the park I go still. I sense a minor movement in the distance. It looks like a plant on the hillside but it’s the only plant around. Arun stops behind me and asks me “what happened”, then I rush to borrow his camera and zoom it to the max. Unmistakably it is the Tahr on the outline of the hill, Arun clicks away at this elusive beast for which we are ready to come back again and again. It is shortly joined by one more and we stare away at them.
The clouds are already over and around us and we are no way as sure footed as the Tahr. After a 40-minute trek we reach the Eravikulam lake and a nearby forest office post. Unable to find a Tahr at a closer distance we are disappointed but promise to return to Munnar for a closer look at this beast alone. After asking directions from the post we rejoin the road and then our bikes and head back to Munnar.
1000 hrs: breakfast at Munnar chiefly comprised of various vadas and fried bananas and then by 1230 we are ready to leave Munnar.
The first target is Kottamangalam and we zip away towards this place. There are innumerable springs on the way some large and some small… but the eyes never get enough of them and I hope to spot that ‘one more’ after each bend. 1415hrs: Chai break. Chai wallah asks, “Where are you headed sir?” “Kalpetta”, “you won’t be able to make it sir”, “we’ll make it”, grins, “Sir it is 2:15 now, even if you stop for one minute at the big waterfall, you’ll reach Kottamangalam by 3:00pm and to Thrissur by 6:30 pm, you must stay there then for the night”.
We zip away on the super smooth highway, stopping exactly for a minute at the ‘big waterfall’ and reach Kottamangalam at 1450 hrs. Onwards we go towards Thrissur, without a single stop.
From here our ordeal begins there are public buses all over this highway, which resembles the JC road. There are people and shops all over the highway for the complete 200 Kms of the stretch until Kozhikode. The buses rock like ships caught in storm and I imagine what must be happening to the passengers inside. Sometimes the road breaks up but the surrounding infinite town does not. Even the road makers are not sure about the town limits. 50 Kms to Thrissur announces one milestone. 61 Kms announces the next green board and I am never quite sure whether I am going backwards while traveling forwards.
1720 hrs: Thrissur, we go into a restaurant opposite a bus stand and are totally wet thanks to a few good showers on the way. In a bid to protect my belongings from getting wet I put them on the table which spells doom, my cell phone gets stolen when I go to the loo. Already irritated by the road, this incident makes me curse the whole town and I swear at that point, never to come back or recommend it to anyone. Anyways we have no option but to move on and so starts out the busy road journey again.
2230 hrs: after a hearty meal, we head towards Kalpetta and the road and conditions improve drastically, and my spirits along with the altitude begin to rise. We go through Lakkidi and then enter Kalpetta after a couple of hours ride in which Arun and I are separated by a couple of kilometers. 0040 hrs: Chandragiri hotel, the bearer announces that there is no TV room available. Arun asks me to wait while he checks out other options. I veto him saying we hardly have any time for TV and take the only available room to call it a halt.

26th June:
0730 hrs: Kalpetta to Chundale is a scenic drive of about 10 Kms. It is a NH and fresh road paint and signs make life pleasant. Breakfast is had at the bistro ‘New Paris’, which has less of Paris and more of Kalpetta about its air. We head towards Lakkidi and I leave Arun behind at a viewpoint and head back out on the highway and look around. I fish out my camera and start clicking. Every bus comes along with wide-eyed passenger staring at this tourist standing in the rain and clicking pics. Some SUVs see me stopped and anticipating an ‘echo point’ or some popular destination park nearby. But they are disappointed that this is only a usual bend and then after a minute or two take off. I observe fire lines in the valley which have been made to prevent forest fires, but it’s raining and I imagine that they are mostly redundant for now.

Hills upon hills, various layers piled till the sight goes stay there and some small stretches of the highway are visible as aberrations. It looks like a person is crawling over the highway over the other hill. Buses look like ants in the distance and can be determined as buses only after looking thorough my camera after max zoom.
Then I head back towards Kalpetta and find Arun’s bike parked at a teashop. We decide to check out Phookut Lake.
1000hrs: It is raining hard now and we go around the lake insensitive of the rain. Bright lotuses make my day and I click away.
The raindrops hitting the water create ripples and collision of ripples creates a wonderful play of light on the surface. The distance becomes hazy and
Rain trees with twisted trunks and weird shapes drip water and ferns are the greenest green. The fish must be happy too, and so must be the toads, they croak and croak and croak. I can’t unfortunately hear the fish. A tanga takes people around the lake for the ride but we are just interested in sitting on our bikes.
This is some quality time and the surroundings are mesmerizing. But all good things must come to an end and at 1200 we start back with the memories of the Phookut Lake.
The road takes us through Sultan Battery and my memories from the previous Wayanad trip come rushing back when I recognize all the roads and petrol stations.

1330 hrs: comes the Muthanga Wildlife Sanctuary and I again slow down in the hope of catching a family of elephants lazing somewhere. But there is luck only in the form of a couple of young ladies staring out at me from the back of a Santro. Since this experience is as rare as the sighting of a wild elephant, I trail the Santro for more than a few Kilometers but then I get bored of these games and disappear towards Gundulpet from where a diversion is taken towards Kollegal to avoid the busy the Mysore-Bangalore road.
2000 hrs: The trip officially comes to and end and Arun do our so long and part ways.


Did I really go to Munnar? Was it the real Munnar or another place with the same name? Oh well it indeed was Munnar, but was it any justice, giving it just four days of my long wasted life.
The trip to Munnar is likely to remain as a memory like the elusive Varayad, the Tahr, which revealed itself but barely just, and leaving a thirst for more.

Living Roads(Interactions with the hills and seas, some musings and a travel story)

“There is a meaning in each curve and line”
The bike sounds good, its temperature feels fine, the throttle responds with pleasure. I stop and take stock of the situation. By my estimate, I am about 10 mins, and an equal number of kilometers behind the rest of the speeders. Fully aware that they won’t budge from the fork ahead until I show up; feel guilty in stealing this minute to stop the bike on the roadside. I breathe an eyeful of this view. Have just turned around a bend on a thinly spread hill road. The bike is kind of perched on the side of a giant ridge, and open before me is a vista, which promises never to return.
A green valley with crepe hills on the faraway bank, like a divine muslin, clouds separating the two of us, trees erect and defying the wind’s commandments in all colors of green and white. A grove with green branches and white cap is the only distinction to remind one that it is no matter of mere chance that they stand here.
30th April, annus mirabilis 2005, just after Sakleshpur, deviation towards Horanadu, There is something magical about this place.

7 hours ago I had woken up to an otherwise utterly lazy looking Saturday morning and packed a lot of useless stuff into my bag, loaded and taken off. The actors of this play had been a mix of mutually known and unknown, namely Ashvin, Vicky, Arun, Sanjay, Amith, Srinidhi and yours truly.
On the road, the wind had been flat and the sun mellow, a perfect occasion to let your creativity run riot. Actors had met, smiled and sailed stopping occasionally only for tea. Hassan was to be the first target destination.

The mango and mocha highways
Nelamangala! What do mango trees do to look so wild and beautiful? One particular tree – branchless up to its torso, 4 meters or so from the ground and suddenly a blooming mushroom of shiny green leaves and rough unripe mangoes only visible to a discerning eye.
The road has its crests and troughs. The crests offer a window into another world weaved in a golden thread, long stretches of plains smoking the morning mist and families of birds taking off to learn flying. The irony is that we came here to watch this play, but right now we folks are in a hurry. Not a new one by any measure!
Srinidhi who has been keeping a lookout for me in the distance becomes exasperated with my snail pace and takes off into infinity to do some riding.

The mango highway quickly disappears and Hassan is ahead of us. The one thing we spend time on generously is eating. Kamat-Upachar is the fuel station for the hungry and Arun is missed on the first meal of the tour, he skipped the lookout for the restaurant, and rejoins us at the Hassan bypass to Sakleshpur.
Sakleshpur too appears before long and its first sign is a coffee plantation enveloping the road. I shrug it off initially thinking it’s too early in the day for this sight. I am proved wrong in a matter of few kilometers. Continuous stretches of coffee plantations on both sides confirm that the pilgrimage indeed has begun. In Sakleshpur, Vicky takes us to his grandparent’s house, where hospitality is thoroughly enjoyed, and dudes are shortly refreshed.

After Sakleshpur a right deviation is taken. Red soil, green trees, blue jaded skies are all over the place in a mélange of colors with no definite line as to which color ends where. Probably a casual sight to an onlooker, but to the eccentrics, this is a cure.

Soon a deviation appears that will take us towards Horanadu and Agumbe. This is probably the beginning of a wild life sanctuary, and I hope to catch a glimpse of a bison or even a Langoor, but this hope will be carried into another trip.

The punishment for stealing moments on the road is that I am put in the lead of the pack.
What follows next is what every biker can feel but never explain. Whose hand has swathed these hills? Why do they HAVE to be beautiful? They might as well have been ugly had the God’s toss gone wrong.

Green, green, dark green, green, mellow green, green, red, green, green, yellow. There is no pattern in the color of these trees; they are, like their audience, completely random and unpredictable.
One has to kiss the roads to negotiate a turn here, no place for cruisers this. Which land does this road lead us to? A small bridge on a brook: a sudden change in the temperature and the sound, a gurgle mixed with the bike’s sound, then an uphill climb. Finally people appear and this motorized demon of a snake enters the Horanadu temple premises. Time: 1530 hrs.

Food here is free for the pilgrims and who is in need of it more than us? After the food a small nap ‘mangta hai’, will substitute it for a cup of tea some kilometers ahead.
Amith and Srinidhi decide to turn back from here. They wish to write a different log. Photos are done for the leaving duo. Best of luck!

A horse that does not run
Destinations change often, one of the reasons everybody loves to travel. We set sights on Kudremukh: the horse’s face. Through the Kudremukh national park we go. The jungle on both sides is so thick that nothing is visible beyond the first line of trees. A fine trail, I muse, for a trekker who wants to go nowhere in particular.
The horse’s face appears suddenly after a bend, and is it a giant horse!
After riding a few more kilometers the pilgrims find their deity; a spectacular view of Kudremukh hills over the Lakkiya dam.
It is wide like an ocean of hills bursting into the sky. It’s impossible to catch all of it in an eyeful. The hilltops are naked themselves, but the trees fill the crevices in abundance. I imagine if the trees were showered later on the hills and they all got deposited in the folds?
If these hills were white they could be mistaken for Himalayas. The dam itself is full of quicksand and iron ore and the opposite bank is whispering in the horizon only to be saved by the mighty hill range

1730, Vicky and Sanjay decide to set the pace and make it to Agumbe, 55 Kms ahead, in time for viewing the sunset. I let go of my throttle and the run-in precautions, the bike swallows anything that the hills throws@ 85 Kmph, but after 20 mins the sun is already setting. Change of plans: caution mode is back as the darkness sets in.

Night on a semi finished flyover?
1900 hrs, Sringeri arrives, or rather we arrive in Sringeri. The town has a genuine character to it and it can be felt as we go though its streets. The mutt is a serene place a mix of ancient and new buildings. The ancient ones are grand and magnificent and subdue the conscious, while the new ones are fake replicas, attempting to recapture the old glory at a low cost. We leave after darshan and some photos.

Whoever thinks we travel to see places is only half correct. What about the sounds, the smells, the changes in temperature near the motes? These take over at night.
I nearly fantasize open eyed the sounds of the whining shoots, and mating crickets and lizards, and the pictures of Nelamangala mangoes appear in the mind’s eye. The Agumbe sunset point is reached, albeit at night. At the end of horizon, a glow of light is visible. Vicky points out that the place is Mangalore, 150 Kms from this point. It is 2120 already. After a few ‘neeru’ dosais everyone is refueled to push ahead. Through Hebbri we go, and take a diversion towards Mangalore, through some smooth and some wicked roads, and some check posts which inform us that some highwaymen have struck come distance ahead.

1st May 2005, 0130 hrs. We bypass Mangalore and enter Kasargod. Communist insignia and IUML slogans confirm that this is indeed Kerala. It’s a big pain to find a hotel room at 0200 hrs and some bystander suggests a nice seaside resort at the Bekal fort 15 Kms away.
What is found there instead is an office of the tourism deptt. 15 more Kms ahead is Kanhangarh, which, it is promised by the watchman, has plenty of hotels. We go to one and the owner refuses to open the door. Black night, no place, and no energy in your body: a way of getting high and start spewing weird ideas. Praveen suggests that we sleep on a half constructed flyover nearby. Ashvin suggests we sleep right there on the footpath, I blink at this latter idea and think that the morning chores would be easier to do over the ledge of the flyover.
At 0300 hrs the life isn’t getting any adventurous. All I ask for is a place to crash. Vicky and Arun’s cool headedness comes to rescue as they discover and negotiate a hotel room somewhat magically.

Everyone is in the need of a new pair of butts. Hopefully we’ll have them delivered in time for tomorrows ride back home. Godspeed!

Of seas and black stones, and their lovers
Begin the day at 1100 hrs, not a thing that mom would approve of. Breaker à Dosai + Coffee. Bekal fort is a low-lying fort, which faces the sea in a short cliff and is chiefly composed of gun-stations. Flat approaches to these make one wonder, what howitzers must have roared here and to protect what. Probably a west coast military strategy borrowed from the Portuguese / Goans

The sea is a direct antonym of the hill, and yet they are both the manifestations of the same force somewhere at the base. The vast nothingness for as far as the sight goes, and assuredly even beyond that, and the defiant capes piercing this deadly authority…what does all this mean? Is it not an obligation to live life deliberately?
Kappil beach is not very different but it is extremely pristine. Park the bikes as far as they would go and then enjoy the water. There is more to this beach than meets the eye.
Creatures live beneath the first layer of sand and the waves leave holes in the sand where the creatures breathe.
1540 hrs: time to head home. Somebody has appropriately named this the MotoGP track, a perfectly smooth road from Kasargod to Talacauvery. Déjà vu: race against the sunset, which is to be viewed at Talacauvery. The Sun wins hands down. We regroup at a roadside hanging bridge over a brook. The sun is almost set and sends golden reflections into the rippling rivulet; the water is smoking and some cranes play around while returning home, in this green bowl, the home of Nordic Valkyries.

Sanjay’s bright headlight becomes the harbinger of this hippie group, which would go anywhere this road would go, in this case Madikeri.
After some more of churning twisties, 2045 announces Madikeri. Fuel for the machines. Fuel for the riders takes more time though and we exit the place only at 2230 hrs. After the twisted ghats are done under the psychedelic delusions of bed and tea gardens, the guns start blazing. I feel sleepy. The group system, a legacy from the Wayanad trip is to be followed now. Praveen, the person following me, is overcome by the clean road offered and overtakes a sleepy rider named ‘me’.

I suspect a following lorry driver of trying to murder me and I take off like anything. In an hour or so of this murderous hide and seek, I give up when the lorry drier amazingly passes peacefully. Regrouping. Every star, which is close enough to send its light to the earth, is visible in its majestic radiance. I recognize a few constellations: the dragon, the serpent. Wonder if this could be a spot for an all night star gazing party.

2nd April 0230 hrs, Srirangapatanam is where one should be cautious, when home luck turns around. Last time it was Aadi who had had a fall, this time it’s Vicky with a nail in his rear wheel. It’s almost 0400 hrs when the tyre is mended and the gunslingers are ready to burn the roads. I follow them some distance behind and finally the sunrise is caught on the Mysore highway near Ramanagaram.




Ruminations
I must confess that it was a BIG mistake to go where we went and lived those moments, which we did, on our bikes. It’s a place where you go in your dreams, or on foot. Probably in a couple of years, it will be a huge confusion to see these places in dreams and pictures and then wonder if we went there at all.

I stand accused of quoting Proust here:
“The voyage of discovery is not about seeking new landscapes, it's about having new eyes”, and new eyes is what I need.

It’s a very unsettling process of going somewhere, having a thousand questions raked up, philosophizing and contemplating on simple things and then trying to figure out the big picture. Hopefully these thousand questions will help in coming out of the mollusk shell and then knowing what drove me. Till then it always seems as if the moon was coming closer. For a yet unknown reason, I love this process, and that is why I ride motorcycles.

Born to be wild

Born To be wild: Story of the bikers G2G, Bangalore to Wayanad

“Just in one word, all the good things are wild and free”
- Henry David Thoreau


Day 0(Thursday, 24th March 2005): Bad Moon Rising

After an eventful evening full of colors and booze from the Holi bash, I go to bed wondering if I’ll be able to wake up in time for the G2G tomorrow. I am in a real bad mood thanks to the drunken philosophy lectures forced upon me by a peer, apprehensive about tomorrows ride because I know none of the fellows that I am planning to spend the next 3 days with, and a tad bit doubtful if everything is alright with my bike. Hmmm…. some omen for an 800 kms trip.

Day 1(Friday, 25th March): Adi’s Day out

Wake up at 0400 hrs, get a bath to kill any hangover from yesterdays excesses, pack my bags and leave for the meeting point: family mart on kanakpura road. Since I am completely unaware of the location of this place I casually take a chance on a CBZ, which is waiting on the roadside. It turns out the Praveen and Anuroop (who shortly joins us) are going for the same G2G. These two superb people lift my spirits and I secretly pray that all the other bikers be as cheerful as these two good-humored folks. I follow them to the LZ.
11 shiny bikes and smart fellows dressed in biking gear is a welcome sight at any time, more so if you are at the gates of dawn, the mood is cheerful and you are going on a long drive.

After a quick round of introductions and filling in details like emergency numbers, blood group etc., groups are divided because the numbers are huge: 14 bikes, 15 riders, 800 Kms. I meet Sri, Paachu and Ashvin: the guys who hold the mantle of this congregation, the heroes of this trip. Photos are snapped, and cheers are done. Quite a few bystanders are curious by now, about this motley mix of bikes and their proud owners, or maybe about disturbing their peace at such an early hour.

The caravan starts at 0615 hrs; the bikes start roaring and pushing. A chill of breeze brushes past my jacket sleeves and a shiver passes down my spine, the excitement is too great. I am overtaken by a lot of bikes from my group; one of these is Adi on his enticer. The bike looks as if it was built for this guy. Its short and stocky like him, and its excited too. The flying laps happen in a jiffy and we soon reach MTR outlet for a breakfast. The group system, which till now was only theory, will strictly be followed henceforth, so promises everyone. The bikers consensually curse the bus drivers, have the quick meal, and push forward.
Soon the adrenalin takes over and the group system is thrown to the wind again. The red soil around the roads takes my mind back to my own land, to the plains with tall relics from history littering the landscape. The sound of the wind inside the helmet is like a shrill turbine and it increases/decreases with the speed. I try playing around with it.

Soon we are near Mysore, and habitation appears. I see Joel at the horizon waving his arms standing beside his Fiero. Adi is with him sitting on his enticer. I slow down. Adi is busy waving a broken front brake lever and asking the question “How could this break man!”. It turns out that Adi has had a fall at a low speed near a diversion, and in the process of lifting his bike; some sympathetic bystander broke the lever. Consensus is reached that what is broken must be repaired, and the plan is changed to entering Mysore instead of bypassing it. Time: 0930 hrs. We wait in Mysore in front of the palace for 90 mins before the issue is resolved, and Adi is back with a grin.1130 hrs the caravan starts again. Moats and ponds start appearing, each so green as to put a ZX-6RR to shame.
Opiated by the greenery, cruise along watching the world as though through a green glass. On the plains visible for kilometers at a stretch the hills appear at the edge of horizon, they herald the arrival of the wrinkles of Western Ghats. In no time we are cruising through the Bandipur National Park where we slow down. We take a break for the benefit of Vicky, the photograph buff, when the news comes that Sachin has skidded off the highway and has got grated in the mud; thankfully he only has suffered some minor scratches. His group eventually catches up with us. I am surprised that despite this minor setback the mood among the bikers is as much, if not more cheerful as ever, some bonding has started to happen amongst perfect strangers! Bikes are as much powerful in bringing the nicest people together.

Imagine a dense teak forest with a curvaceous road laid out in the most improbable locations offering breathtaking sights and bird calls, as Simon and Garfunkel put it: the sounds of silence. Reality can sometimes get the better of imagination. I hope the thickets and the sights would never come to an end; and in the 30 minutes of riding this stretch alone, I quickly steal a few moments and stop the bike to bathe in the force of this spiritual experience.

The good thing about roads, unlike life is that they never end, and so in our journey, we are launched into the hill hamlet of Sultan Bathery. Kids, town’s folks and women are most amused by a gang of bikers roaring their engines for public benefit and show power. Heads turn bigtime.1600 hrs. After checking into a guesthouse and having had our standard gravy and chapatti, and of course the Kerala special soft drink ‘cock’, Edukkal Caves is decided as the showcase event of the evening.

After a superbly scenic drive, which I imagine can easily be a part of a motorcycle ad featuring a lonely girl asking for a lift (at this point I suddenly I think what am I gonna do with my bungee chord and stuff?) which lasts about 30 minutes we reach the area of Edukkal caves. The approach path is under construction and has an 18-inch strip of cement on a 35-degree incline. Adi is following me, I see him give his bike a free reign but he miscalculates, I see his form stopping momentarily, then skidding back a little and then toppling completely into the presently dry rain ditch. Another setback for the poor guy! Eventually the incline claims its second victim in Neil’s thumper, which was trying to pull two of its riders, Neil and Sai. The village folks around enthused by this incident, converge on the bikes in no time and amidst loud cheering and songs pick up the bikes with their riders on them and place them safely. The two bikers escape without so much as a scratch. Joel and Ashvin do some stunts for the cheerful villagers, which make their jaws drop. Our official stud Ashvin then leads the bikers up.


After having seen the caves and their awe and terror inspiring geography, we start to head back for the guesthouse. A few villagers on our way back demand an encore of the previous performance from Joel, which of course is gracefully turned down by him with the word “Balls!”

At the guesthouse, a lot of jokes happen and biker dudes pour out the stories of their machoisms. A lot of biking legends, some first hand and some second hand are exchanged. Plans are made for tomorrow, beer is arranged; the party is in full force. Adi’s video camera is a center of attraction amongst the many other distractions of good life.
Suddenly it is discovered that the camera has developed a snag and we may be in the danger of losing the days videos. Adi is now so tired by the day’s setbacks that his sole comment is “I must have seen an evil face before starting”. 2300 hrs. Everybody retires later. Another big day of nature worship is ahead of us.


Day 2: (Saturday, 26th March): Dream theater

The amazing race that was supposed to begin at 630 hrs is still not on by 830. I take a look at my bike: hmmm…not good, one or probably two of the oil seals are broken.

The event #1 for the day is breakfast, and of course no compromises are done in filling up as much as possible. 0930 hrs: Head off for Meenmutty falls. Tea gardens galore! Coffee plantations aplenty! Rolling hills covered with tea and coffee plantations, interspersed with rubber trunks! An unbelievable sight! Ghat road with small cottages and log cabins in isolation shows up and leads me into another, and now forgotten fantasy.
Wrong road!! Go back a few kilometers and take the right diversion a muddy dirt track, which would put a few motocross tracks to shame. If I fall I’d be chewing coffee leaves: an unenviable proposition. After taking my thumper through this heady treasure of a Zen garden, reach a spot where bikes cannot go any further, as there is a 50-degree decline.

Preparations are done for a brief 1.5 Kms terrain trek. Bad time to be caught chubby. The trails start and after a while the cursing about the terrain also starts, sheer drops and steep walks; after all nothing is ordinary here, and we aren’t here to be amused by the ordinary. Thickets…well, only grow thicker and make movement more and more a punishment. A stream appears and then a crest, and the sound of Meenmutty can suddenly be heard in the distance. After immense toiling imposed upon da-dudes by Mother Nature, human will triumphs and we emerge to a most intoxicating sight called the Meenmutty falls.

Suddenly the suppressed inertia is released and people grab a place to relax. After a while the eternal enthusiast Paachu (Prashant), initiates what has been on most minds and takes a dip. In a few minutes everyone is undressing to take a dip. Natural Jacuzzi spots are discovered and the bikers now take their royal cake of a free and natural (probably herbal?) water-massage, some others are lured into the thickets by the beauty of it all.
1330 hrs: After a long time of this royal treatment, the two-day bikers discover that now it is too late to leave for Bangalore. What the heck! Let’s spend life till its good. So the early leavers decide to stay.

Trekking thy name is drudgery! To go back up is a worse torture than ever imagined. Breaks are taken every 10 meters, the fat bottomed ones are left behind, the headstrong are cursing, spitting out ‘fuck this, fuck that’ with every breath, others are short of breath or ideas to mutter anything. Finally the bikes are visible again and a rush of relief pours in. Limewater /Buttermilk are consumed in large quantities. A motley mix speaking different languages and riding assorted bikes is turned into a band of brothers.

Jubilee is a good restaurant. So? So have lunch there: standard chicken, paneer and cock.
1645 hrs: Question: What next? Answer: Debate. Topic? Ooty or Calicut?
Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner, Ooty, takes it all; all15 bikers.
The fun part begins now. Since it is already dusk, some rules are formulated to ensure safety. All the bikes would ride in a single file, horn codes would be followed to signal distress or caution, regrouping would happen at least every 25 kms etc. And so the biggest ever recorded bike caravan ready to do moonlight hill biking starts rolling. BIG FUN!! Like a fast snake with a bright red taillight every 10 meters starts zooming, needless to say, the bystanders or drivers who see us on the roads are not going to forget the sight in a long time.
1850 hrs. Noodupuzha announces the arrival of Tamil Nadu. Our bikes are frisked for any plastic we may be carrying. I feel satisfied that the jungles are being looked after, and something is being done about plastic.
The night jungle brings with it strange smells of spices and sounds of the nocturnals. My head starts buzzing slowly because of the chill, the smells and the change in moisture and the thump of my bike. The horn code seems to be working well. There is a nagging worry in my mind as to if my bike would be an embarrassment, the oil seals are pretty bad by now, and the chain is slack because of oil dripping on it for hours.

The Bamboo shoots are rubbing each other and whining. It’s quite possible that I am confusing this sound with that of the wind striking against my helmet. The effects are straight out of JRR Tolkien’s imagination. But the best sight of all is that of the six or seven bikes ahead of me making that curve one after the other with a 20-degree incline of the bike. Though I can’t see the bikes because of the darkness, but I can see the bright red taillights. I realize what speed I am riding at when I see the bikes in front of me doing that curve. They look as if they are cruising when suddenly they make that curve and vanish into the bend leaving behind only silence and a diffraction of their taillights.

Soon Guddalur arrives; where every normal bystander who sees our congregation wonders, “how can so many insane people be traveling together?” But doesn’t it take abnormality to understand insanity? We don’t, unfortunately find any people who would enquire about our journey. Time: 2000 hrs. Ooty road starts. So do the series of potholes and the strong smell of trees. The time is well spent in avoiding the potholes and sudden hairpin bends. I am suddenly amazed and embarrassed when a middle-aged person on a scooter with a pillion overtakes me. A distant rumble of a truck trying to switch gears is heard, but no lights are visible in that direction. Breaks are taken for photographs and relief of bladders. The temperature is so low that a small jog is entirely in order, but no time for that.
The forest is almost whispering something all the time and there is a strong whiff of eucalyptus interspersed with the smell of flowers. I am confused sometimes if what blinked from the approaching tree was an owl or a bug. Longing for a mug of coffee grows like an urge to relieve the bladder. Ooh its really very cold, foolish to be traveling without gloves.
The ride of the lifetime is in full majesty and the bikes curl and curve and tackle anything the roadways dept has to throw at them. Seven bikes ahead of me tackle a hairpin bend and climb up. I see the rare sight of seven bikes above and six below me as I do that curve. The sight is more than words can express. Well, languages have their limitations.

2300 hrs: Ooty is reached. A hotel is arranged after petty bargaining. Bags are dismounted and thrown in. The only time I have is to take off my shoes and leap into the blanket. Not so for the others, sheer enthu drives them to have a swill of whisky and chat. 2400 hrs: everyone else is sleeping. I dream about the girl in that imaginary ad.


Day 3 (Easter Sunday, 27th March): Born to be wild

“You are free, and that is why you are lost!”
- Franz Kafka

Committed to efficiency, honesty and human goodwill, our group is awake at 0700 hrs. Bikes are roaring by 0730. Mine asks of me about 25 kicks before even giving a putter. 30 kicks hence it starts. Now my worry is turning my brains. The oil seals are totally gone, engine oil is dripping, and the sound is no good.
The agenda for the day is as follows: we’ll go to Mudumalai national park, through Bandipur national park, and finally to the Gopalaswamy Betta peak, and then to Mysore and then back to Bangalore.
Joel though wants to be home by 1200hrs for the Easter lunch. So after a brief session of loud thinking he decides to go it alone and make it home as fast as possible. The goodbyes are done and Joel soon vanishes into horizon. Man! This dude totally rocks; most of us are going to miss his wheelies, stoppies and enthu the rest of the day.
The tired caravan starts to roll again. This time the engines are mostly silent while the brakes are overworked. Lots of boxes-on-wheels are overtaken, some of them looking shocked at this procession, some disdainful of this ‘sub-human’ effort at show-off. Bison point beckons us to stop. Graffiti, the eternal scourge of Indian tourists is in full show on the walls – “Suresh loves Latha”, “Usman (arrow and heart) Rehmana” and even an “Infosys: driven by values, powered by intellect”. We continue our journey after a few photographs, with a lingering bad taste in the mouth.

The hairpin bends never seem to come to an end, and at one time my brakes start fuming with the effort they are doing. At least the engine is not overworked, I think.
The most beautiful sights and sounds come around after each bend and curve, hills covered with autumn trees, look brown and gray in the distance, the clouds overhead make me unsure, what color is it really? There is play of light on every depression and crest. The enormity and beauty of this creation brings out a lot of questions. To reproduce the words of Robert Pirsig, “What is in mind is a sort of Chautauqua”. This greenery, that pond in the distance, these autumn trees waiting for their leaves to come back, 15 unknown strangers acting like best buddies, how can all this mess of a contradiction co-exist?
This wayward group has but one thing on its mind: keep going!
The scenery is as fragrant and wild as ever, probably not many 4 wheelers pass through this zigzag highway, and that is the reason that the road looks delicious. Kilometers become meters as the hours become minutes. The color of the grass blades changes and imperceptibly the humidity and temperature change too. 1015 hrs. The country is perceptibly different now and the hills are fading back.

A check-post announces the arrival of Mudumalai National park and we go in without feeling much different, sometimes slow, and sometimes quite blazing, suddenly the procession slows down. A deer has been sighted alongside the road. It looks at us almost in a detached way and then grows conscious of the presence around it. Then it briefly disappears in the shrubs, but we have had our photographs by now. Some distance ahead we overtake a van full of girls. The bikers enthused by this never before chance to show off, display their speed and macho abilities to the max, the girls look impressed in the rear view mirror.

Some chained elephants cross the road; my heart breaks to see such wild majesty restrained by human greed and indulgence. Then I blink and think if it is right to be judgmental.
Take a break at the paws restaurant where the cricket scores are checked. Some more Britney Spears style bikers hop into the restaurant for break, but neither they, nor us are interested in each other.
Our convoy moves on and Pramod, who has been a constant source of repartees, enthu and laughter departs from the group, he has to make it to Manipal by the end of the day, we wish him a safe journey and depart towards Gopalaswamy Betta.

The incline is very steep but not enough to slow down the bikes and we eventually reach the peak. Darshan is done in a jiffy and Vicky clicks away his camera. Some guys catch fancy with the sweet lass there who, we imagine is curious about us. The convoy then does what it does best: moves on. 1330 hrs. Santosh wants to check if Joel made it safely to Bangalore calls him up. Joel has reached safely: the spirits are up again. Cheers are done!
To the roads again…
After a few Kms I feel jerks in my bike, I start praying feverishly that it doesn’t breakdown. It does not but that doesn’t help to abate my worries, the engine assembly is bathed in oil and I ponder there if more oil outside the engine than inside it.

The folks start ripping the roads and I try to catch on. 1440 hrs. After one regrouping and taking off my bike suffers a breakdown. The wild buses that I had just overtaken jeer at my plight. I am convinced that the problem is about over-heating, and I pour in the reserve engine oil, which I had bought thanks to Neil’s foresight, into the engine, and it roars to life. But I am scared to bones now because I’m alone. I ride slowly and meet the folks at the next regrouping where I ask Sachin to please stay with me for the rest of the ride. Sachin is quick to understand my plight and henceforth stays with me. Life becomes cool because of his cheerful and understanding company.

1620 hrs. Country club Mysore arrives. Food is gobbled, swimming is done and pool is played.
1750 hrs. I selfishly ask Amith to stand by me for the rest of the ride, knowing inside, what fun I would be taking away from him if I ask him to drive at my speed. Without a sign of disappointment Amith approves. As somebody has said, “Character is power,” Amith volunteers for this unenviable task, and we ride on. Soon I also induct Sri into this avoidable club of slow riders, and he too without batting an eyelid promises to drive at my pace.

1930 hrs. The evening turns into night and our whole group starts facing troubles from various weekend trippers returning home. Strategy is formulated on regrouping: all 12 of us would follow a single file, no overtaking each other and maintaining slow speed (relief for me!). Adi in the meanwhile fails to stop for the regrouping and is separated from the group for the rest of the journey.
Now begins the fun part, as 12 bikes and smart riders put up a show of brotherhood and togetherness, our troubles melt away as the boxes give way to this giant and overwhelming snake. In the rearview mirror I catch the most amazing sight of the journey: a seemingly infinitely long line made up of lights and shiny helmets crawling up and eating the highway. The daughter of neighborhood uncle sitting in the car looks impressed, some take a chance and smile back.
The problems totally vanish. The power of a good idea is this: it may seem impractical and useless at first, but if you try it out once you find that nothing else works as good as this. The idea of going in a single file, coming from Paachu works wonders and suddenly we are at the edge of Bangalore.

2200: Outside PESIT. Few snaps and some chat are entirely in order.
Loud Cheers are done!
Lots of photos are done, Strategy for sharing these photos is decided.

Hearts come home!!

Some reflections and thanks

Twenty years hence if I wonder if I have lived my life to the max, this trip will be on the left side of the table. Also I hope many of the friends that I made on this trip will be around to discuss these glory days. If somebody said traveling opens up ones mind, I believe he would be a wise man.

“The truth is out there, get out of your couch”
-Praveen

This story would not be finished if some personal acknowledgements (in no order) were left to reader’s imagination:

Vicky, Sri, Pramod, Adi, Santosh: For the superb photographs and videos.
Pramod, Praveen, Anuroop, Sai, Joel and Santosh: For being on this trip and making it memorable.
Sri, Paachu, Vicky and Ashvin: you made this trip possible, and wonderful.
Neil: For helping me out with the mechanic at Bathery and having the foresight for oil J
Sachin, Amith, Adi and Sri: for watching my back when my chips were down.


Trip log

Here are the hard figures about our G2G.


Day 1:Bangalore-Mysore-Gundulpet-Sultan Bathery (Wayanad)+some more inside Wayanad (Edukkal caves)~300kms forthe day

Day 2:Wayanad-Meenmutty falls-Wayanad 50kms (but we traveled a bit extra)Back to roomsSultan Bathery-Noodupuzha-Guddalur-Ooty ~140kms

Day 3:Ooty-Mudumalai-Bandipur-GopalaswamyBetta-Gundulpet-Mysore-Country club-Bangalore ~300kmsand a little more travel here and there. Total distance ~800kms

The Railroad Trek

I take the same strides as i walk into my workplace this fresh morning, i take a deep breath like everyday. I look out into the morning sky out of my window, a beautiful blue aeroplane on the horizon preparing to align itself with the landing strip. I sip my morning coffee with ease, and then slip into my ergo-luxury chair... of course like everyday.Or has something changed today? it is not quiet like everyday. While i hold my cup of coffee , i can feel and attend to the fact that it is warm against my palms, i can feel that the cup has a certain softness to it. The coffee smells like it has never smelled before, or maybe theres something about my olfactory senses today. I am giving each step a little more thought today than i have ever done in the past. I have a feeling of being very lucky to be sitting on chair today and knowing that i will be very safe and comfortable here. I have seen the airplane, the means to communicate with people, the internet, the TV. I feel alive today. I am living today unlike any other day.I have been amongst the glories of nature yesterday, i have been hiking.
40 Kms in two days on foot out there in the wild, a day out in the sun on the beach and the clear sea : a thought to open the senses dormant for 23 odd years. A trek to be remembered 5 lifetimes.
Three days back.
The beginning is full of expectations, and every step is a discovery, the first rock-spring which is opposite the usual road, the first bridge which makes the spine go stiff, the first tunnel which one thinks would never come to an end. the railroad in between flanked by the natural beauty which has missed for years, the sound so harmonious that i wonder what music I have had been listening to all my life, the moisture and the temperature, which change every ten steps and yet make each step an invitation to bliss.
The smell of invisible calendulas and orchids hiding behind those smoking forests, all play their part, and I just about get a glimpse of heaven.Beginning is like "anything else", shaky, full of apprehensions and the negative brain programming which has happened during my academic life, is at work. But take the first steps without even thinking, drugged by the sheer spiriual force Nature is imposing.Slowly the apprehensions die. Footsteps become surer after the first bridge is crossed, the first challange met, a mental block tackeled!The best thing that God created is life, think as I walk through this forest. All this beauty and serenity, the hills in the distance covered by the carpets from the high poet coleridge's imagination? Such a waste if nobody were alive to appreciate its existance. I compliment its existence because I appreciate it. I am alive. And love it.
Food is not always desire. Discover this in the middle of a bridge but that is only after I discover the existence of each muscle that is in the webbing and on the inner side of my feet, near the heel. After covering 8Kms. I eat a couple of buns, half a pound of bread, a pack of biscuits and half a litre of water. The Sun had made its appearance quite a while ago, but it is only now that I realise that things are so much brighter here. The Sun does not hurt me. He is my friend. I secretly pray to him. I kill the leeches that have been on me for the past hour. Life is so short, a click of salt is enough to end it sometimes. But they have great endurance these leeches, they comeback so very often even though they know that they are going to die eating food. Probably they feel great about being alive like I.
The destination of the day arrives after a most beautiful Waterfall and a sharp curve. It is a quaint station yedukumeri, manned by a helpful person- kaka we call him, who makes no effort to have his presence announced, or to show us for how many years he has been living this life. We exchange some of our sugar for his tea leaves, for the tea that we will never really prepare, the tea leaves though, make a good memmory.
After sleeping in the Sun for two hours, wake up to an evening superior to the imagination of the poet. The station here, notice is only built on the side of the hill I have been trekking, and there are no houses or roads here. Certainly no humans except for the kaka. Logic has gone for a toss , and it is only later while writing this treatise that I will think of the question that why need a station when there is no road or people. After a short treat of about a pound of bread and jam, some noodles and a glass of warm wine, ask the kaka to show me a place to bath and he takes me to a spring parallel to a bridge .A heavenly spring. You either take the track thourgh the bridge or through the spring, I would have missed the spring had not kaka shown me. I wonder how many such springs I have missed when I did not take the alternate way, just because my companions had taken the bridge.
The next day is easy, I wake up before dawn. Walk out of the gang-hut wary of the hunters that stalk these parts at night in search of game, snakes or anything that can sell or satisfy hunger. Could I befriend a hunter? The night sky is glorious and each of the smallest star glows like a wedding bulb. Orion is so large, his belt so bright.I am getting lessons into getting opiated on the starry nights like van gogh. Walk down to the spring, fill up my bottle. This morning Nature is spreading its charms and exerting great influence on anyone open to it. All my thoughts sudenly vanish and its like a deep meditation for me , the next 10 Kms. pass by by under the effect of this divine drug. Our destination which marks the end of the railroad trek and the beginning of jungle tre is here.
Break off the railroad and follow the tracks made of elephant dung and footsteps. The Sun cannot be seen because the bushes are so dense. I am assured nevertheless that he is there for me.Deep down in the ravines a river is audible, and it makes different sounds every curve. But it gushes with a roar most of the time. Someone had told me that the river doesn't permit crossing it before Diwali.
At the end of the long black track in the jungle, reach the footsteps of the hill and take a wrong turn, only to discover a very beautiful rivulet which is merging ahead in the mighty roaring flow. A dog is cooling himself in this rivulet, and is not disturbed by the presence of humans. Every man for himself!
After gobbling some more food, we are on our way to civilization.
A nature walk of a lifetime.