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