Because the cell phone reception was poor, i could not share my triumphs with my mum. But, once we started on the return journey, i could not think of anything else except narrating the entire episode to my parents. So excited was i, that i did not notice that i had completed 100 kms straight, without stopping for a break. My pillion, Gautam, did not share the same enthusiasm as me. He on the other hand, ended with a rock solid butt, and could not even feel his own farts.
I stopped at Coorg Cafe. Though it is modeled on Cafe Coffee Day, the food here is so much better. The pudina chutney was too good. It was around 7 PM when we started from the pit stop. I avoid riding in the dark. It is a real strain on the eyes with all the glare, and demands extra concentration. But, i did it and soon, i was narrating the entire incident to my dad and screaming about like a little girl at home.
This journey taught me that biking is more than riding to your destination. The true beauty of it is in appreciating the journey and exploring the places. Taking in your stride the unplanned and unexpected are also part of the ride. I have to thank Gautam for being so helpful and patient. I have to thank my bike that it endured the journey. The Kodavas were very helpful and a special thank you for the locals. I have to thank the Highway which ensured we got home safe and sound.
Coorg is wonderful place. But as the locals told me, everything green doesn't mean prosperity. Monsoons and lack of good roads hinder the progress of the place. When they do build one, vast tracts of forest are consumed. Tigers used to roam the place, now replaced with deer and the occasional boar. No wonder, with all these difficulties, Kodavas become tough, man or woman.
This ride taught me to appreciate true friends and nature. I'm a better man for having done this ride.
Until next time....
Friday 15 February 2013
Tuesday 12 February 2013
MUGILPETE,PARADISE VIA HELL'S ROAD- PART 3 AT GODS GATE
The actual scenery wasn't like the movie. It was pretty dry. They say this place is heaven in October. Gautam had some experience in trekking. I had none. With the afternoon sun bearing upon us, i talked my iron butt out to Gautam. He was interested in the view, i was trying not to faint and tumble down. I had seen enough episodes of 'I Shouldn't Be Alive' on Discovery to know that things can turn bad quickly. There was not a single soul in sight. No signs of animal life, and we were literally on the edge of the forest. Anything might spring up and grab us.
I lost it when i saw a section of a spinal cord. Gautam brushed it off as some animal's. I was sure the Veerappan Ganeshan guy must be killing visitors, feeding them to his dogs and chicken and scattering the remains. Stones stacked on one another at regular intervals resembled graves to me, but it turned out to be mileposts.
The arch gate was finally in sight, when we saw a tiny auto parked. We checked around, but there was no one. We kept on walking, only to face a couple of bikes and a Santro. These guys had taken an easier route, which we would find out later. We also stumbled upon a forest guard, who was the Tamil actor Surya's look alike.
When we reached the check post, we were greeted by a young forest guard. I was amazed to see the room, inside which lay two cots and an iron trunk. Beside it was a man-made lake. The guard said that elephants and even tigers drop in to have a drink. AWESOME!
Another hill up, and we were at a watch tower. It looked down on the valley. Surrounding us was the Pushpagiri reserve and in the distance, Kumara Parvat. The wind was at its best, and when it decided to take a break, the sound of bugs and dry shrubs rustling took over. I knew I was closer to God when i looked down upon a forest. We were above birds, and below a sole hovering eagle. No words to describe it. Period.
I lost it when i saw a section of a spinal cord. Gautam brushed it off as some animal's. I was sure the Veerappan Ganeshan guy must be killing visitors, feeding them to his dogs and chicken and scattering the remains. Stones stacked on one another at regular intervals resembled graves to me, but it turned out to be mileposts.
The arch gate was finally in sight, when we saw a tiny auto parked. We checked around, but there was no one. We kept on walking, only to face a couple of bikes and a Santro. These guys had taken an easier route, which we would find out later. We also stumbled upon a forest guard, who was the Tamil actor Surya's look alike.
When we reached the check post, we were greeted by a young forest guard. I was amazed to see the room, inside which lay two cots and an iron trunk. Beside it was a man-made lake. The guard said that elephants and even tigers drop in to have a drink. AWESOME!
Another hill up, and we were at a watch tower. It looked down on the valley. Surrounding us was the Pushpagiri reserve and in the distance, Kumara Parvat. The wind was at its best, and when it decided to take a break, the sound of bugs and dry shrubs rustling took over. I knew I was closer to God when i looked down upon a forest. We were above birds, and below a sole hovering eagle. No words to describe it. Period.
MUGILPETE,PARADISE VIA HELL'S ROAD- PART 2 TIPPING TIPPER
Never had i heard the engine raring to go this much. It was deafening, in spite of the heavy helmet on my head. The road was a series of steep drops, with sharp corners which led to walls or down estates. This was fascinating and scary. The entrance to these estates is something to be seen to be believed. It seemed either 90 degrees up or 90 degrees down, never straight. They are always located at sharp corners. So if you miss your turn, you'll be tumbling down and get the Axe effect, coffee flavour.
I braked, rode in first gear and even stopped to control my descent. Finally, an old lady told us that two roads lead to Mugilpete. We continued straight. This is where it all began.
It looked as if the road was dug up from hell, to facilitate Satan to show off his dirt bike. The colors of the mud were red, yellow and pink. Maybe Gay rights are supported in Hell too. To climb the steep incline, Gautam told i must accelerate and not loose momentum between gear shifts. Having treated the bike as a soft humming marvel, it was painful to hear it struggle, thump, twist and creak. I could clearly feel the heat emitting off the engines.
If not for Gautam, i would have abandoned the trip or taken a different route. With his encouragement, i pushed forward. And then, i was faced with a wall of dust. It looked like a mammoth was charging at me. But it was a tipper. These trucks, with loads of soil, weigh tons.On the downside, it did not seem to have enough braking power. It horrifyingly slid down for a head-on crash. Thankfully, it stopped just in time, my eyes met with the driver and we both exchanged a sheepish smile.
Further up, the bike sunk in the sand on an incline. Some pushing later, Gautam drove ahead, while i walked. I puffed and panted, and with my biking gear, bandana and pot belly, covered in mud, i provided entertainment for the construction workers. It was almost noon when we reached the entrance to Madalpatti.
We decided to park our bike and trek the remaining 4 kms. The Veerappan like Ganeshan, with his four dogs and 14 chicken, old rusty jeep included, agreed to watch over our bike. Thus, we started off to see for ourselves the famous place where Mungaru Male was shot.
I braked, rode in first gear and even stopped to control my descent. Finally, an old lady told us that two roads lead to Mugilpete. We continued straight. This is where it all began.
It looked as if the road was dug up from hell, to facilitate Satan to show off his dirt bike. The colors of the mud were red, yellow and pink. Maybe Gay rights are supported in Hell too. To climb the steep incline, Gautam told i must accelerate and not loose momentum between gear shifts. Having treated the bike as a soft humming marvel, it was painful to hear it struggle, thump, twist and creak. I could clearly feel the heat emitting off the engines.
If not for Gautam, i would have abandoned the trip or taken a different route. With his encouragement, i pushed forward. And then, i was faced with a wall of dust. It looked like a mammoth was charging at me. But it was a tipper. These trucks, with loads of soil, weigh tons.On the downside, it did not seem to have enough braking power. It horrifyingly slid down for a head-on crash. Thankfully, it stopped just in time, my eyes met with the driver and we both exchanged a sheepish smile.
Further up, the bike sunk in the sand on an incline. Some pushing later, Gautam drove ahead, while i walked. I puffed and panted, and with my biking gear, bandana and pot belly, covered in mud, i provided entertainment for the construction workers. It was almost noon when we reached the entrance to Madalpatti.
We decided to park our bike and trek the remaining 4 kms. The Veerappan like Ganeshan, with his four dogs and 14 chicken, old rusty jeep included, agreed to watch over our bike. Thus, we started off to see for ourselves the famous place where Mungaru Male was shot.
MUGILPETE,PARADISE VIA HELL'S ROAD- PART 1 BEST MONDAY EVER
Screaming, shouting, honking, running, swearing; this is your typical Monday morning. But for me, on the 11 Feb, 2013, it was deciding, in a split second, whether to swerve left or right. I had to avoid either a red KSRTC bus or a grey majestic bull. Typical Indian Highway.
Me and Gautam* had set off to Mugilpete (a.k.a Mandalpatti) in Coorg district. Any ride to Coorg is always welcome. This was to the second highest peak in the Deccan Plateau (so i have been told). Gautam was my pillion for this ride. This was my second ride with him, and i was comfortable with him and he with my bike.
We set off at 7 AM.
State Highway 88, or Hunsur road as it's called, is a pleasure to ride. Well paved, less number of speed breakers and unlike the Bangalore-Mysore highway, there are sign boards to warn you of these "humps".
I noticed that the fuel indicator was dropping fast. This was because of our combined weight, the gear and sadly, the fact that i was er...overweight.
Unlike the Banglore-Mysore road, which is peppered and salted with dhabas and eateries of all stars and sizes, Highway 88 doesn't offer you that many options, except in major towns and cities. Our pitstop for breakfast was Cafe Coffee Day.We did "sit down" for sunshine and a happy tummy. The Belgian shot is worth it. But someone needs to teach them the art of making a simple cheese sandwich. Mine was served with corn, palak paste and cheese. I managed to force it down with coffee.
Refilled and refueled, we headed to what seemed like endless diversions. If not for the locals, we would have been lost. After the last diversion, Mugilpete was roughly around 15 kms. Before completing this stretch, we stopped for a classic bikers' pee break. Unzip and let it all out in the midst of nature.
Up ahead, i had no idea what was about to hit me.
Up ahead, i had no idea what was about to hit me.
Saturday 9 February 2013
ONE PILLION IN A ZILLION OR NONE
Many friends are aghast when i tell them that i go on long rides solo. They often ask why they or anybody else were not invited. Having a pillion rider is always good they say, from a safety and companionship point of view. I agree.
But i have never been much of a "group" person. I'm addicted to the peace the road provides. The greenery, the black tarmac, the smell of oil and dust hitting your face; ridding into the sun is just too much of a temptation to resist and i don't want to share it. Having a talkative pillion is worse than a punctured tyre. You loose interest in the scenery around you and you wish that this trip would end soon. Relationship problems, assignments, chicks/dudes, parent issues and what not crop up, when you are right in the middle of a lush green valley, with the aroma of coffee and slight hint of mist. You wish you could pop a wheelie, dump you pillion and make a run for it.
In most of the bike accidents, you would have noticed that the pillion is more seriously injured, or killed, than the rider. This increases responsibility on the rider's shoulders. Your pillion should have the same interest in riding, exploring and importantly, knowing when to SHUT UP. Encouraging you to overtake, stare or honk at the eye-candys' bum or just stretching can throw you off guard, specially when you're driving at speeds over 70 kmph.
I have had only one pillion rider, who also acted as my navigator. There have been others, but i usually avoid taking one in the first place, girl or boy. If i don't know the route, or if the place is better explored with someone who has been there and done that, a pillion rider is worth it. Having a pillion with riding knowledge is even better. That way, he/she can take over riding if you are fatigued.
The above principles apply to a group too. Different bikes, riding speeds and attitudes make it a challenge. The habit of occupying the entire road and causing a nuisance to others is also an issue. Go for Har ek rider jaroori hota hai only if you guys are Brokeback Moutain (gays for the non-movie buffs), bromance riders or simply a bunch of nut bags of bikes.
For me, there can be only be one pillion in a zillion, or even better, none.
But i have never been much of a "group" person. I'm addicted to the peace the road provides. The greenery, the black tarmac, the smell of oil and dust hitting your face; ridding into the sun is just too much of a temptation to resist and i don't want to share it. Having a talkative pillion is worse than a punctured tyre. You loose interest in the scenery around you and you wish that this trip would end soon. Relationship problems, assignments, chicks/dudes, parent issues and what not crop up, when you are right in the middle of a lush green valley, with the aroma of coffee and slight hint of mist. You wish you could pop a wheelie, dump you pillion and make a run for it.
In most of the bike accidents, you would have noticed that the pillion is more seriously injured, or killed, than the rider. This increases responsibility on the rider's shoulders. Your pillion should have the same interest in riding, exploring and importantly, knowing when to SHUT UP. Encouraging you to overtake, stare or honk at the eye-candys' bum or just stretching can throw you off guard, specially when you're driving at speeds over 70 kmph.
I have had only one pillion rider, who also acted as my navigator. There have been others, but i usually avoid taking one in the first place, girl or boy. If i don't know the route, or if the place is better explored with someone who has been there and done that, a pillion rider is worth it. Having a pillion with riding knowledge is even better. That way, he/she can take over riding if you are fatigued.
The above principles apply to a group too. Different bikes, riding speeds and attitudes make it a challenge. The habit of occupying the entire road and causing a nuisance to others is also an issue. Go for Har ek rider jaroori hota hai only if you guys are Brokeback Moutain (gays for the non-movie buffs), bromance riders or simply a bunch of nut bags of bikes.
For me, there can be only be one pillion in a zillion, or even better, none.
Monday 4 February 2013
DUMPED BY A BITCH, ADOPTED BY THE HIGHWAY
I had begun to master the bike. I had done some stupid tricks and taken unnecessary risks too. I paid the price in scratches on the bike and bruises on my body. One thing i was sure of though, that this beauty was built for much greater deeds. So i decided to take it on long rides on the highway. Initially, it was not more than 40 kms and always with a more experienced partner on the pillion The going was good, until one day, the unthinkable happened.
No, it wasn't an accident on the bike. It was on a personal and emotional level. A girl, YES A GIRL, dumped me unceremoniously. I was crushed and went into depression. I realized why they call it a heart break.
I had heard about this place called Bylukuppe, on way to Coorg. It was a Tibetean settlement. I had heard about the peace and tranquility of the place. I hoped that it would be the cure for me. I informed my parents that i was heading on a short tour, alone, and will be back by evening. I left early, and reached the place by afternoon. I sat, watched the monks pray and from out of nowhere, i felt a sudden peace envelope me. Basking in tranquility, i headed out to the parking where i saw the board. COORG AHEAD.
Till this day, i do not know what happened in that moment. But a few hours later, i found myself in Coorg. It was as if some divine force possessed my bike and it drove itself. I refueled once i reached the top and found myself staring at the road below at Raja's seat. I struck a conversation with a guy over there, and soon, he was my unofficial and unpaid tourist guide. Coincidentally, even he had gone through a heart break. We bonded instantly, or you could call it bromance. We had a great conversation while exploring ancient forts and ruins, just like our love lives.
We eventually parted ways and i was on my way back home. I did stop periodically to ask for directions and even picked up a guy who asked a lift till Mysore. "Hop on" i said, and even treated him at Cafe Coffee Day. The country bugger was shocked that a coffee costs 50 bucks! But he was grateful for the lift. I reached home at 8 pm.
A gang of bikers, 8 of them, were shocked when i told them that i am from Mysore and i have no company, when they overtook me at Coorg. They were right. Only a crazy person, or one lost in love,would drive all the way to Coorg, solo and back to Mysore. I had even dozed off, temporarily, while driving back. I had pushed my bike and my body to its limits.
This incident was the starting point of many more bike adventures, especially solo ones. Not once have i met with an accident nor crashed. I have always made it back intact, with the bike. I guess i have a guardian angel, and have been adopted by the highway.
No, it wasn't an accident on the bike. It was on a personal and emotional level. A girl, YES A GIRL, dumped me unceremoniously. I was crushed and went into depression. I realized why they call it a heart break.
I had heard about this place called Bylukuppe, on way to Coorg. It was a Tibetean settlement. I had heard about the peace and tranquility of the place. I hoped that it would be the cure for me. I informed my parents that i was heading on a short tour, alone, and will be back by evening. I left early, and reached the place by afternoon. I sat, watched the monks pray and from out of nowhere, i felt a sudden peace envelope me. Basking in tranquility, i headed out to the parking where i saw the board. COORG AHEAD.
Till this day, i do not know what happened in that moment. But a few hours later, i found myself in Coorg. It was as if some divine force possessed my bike and it drove itself. I refueled once i reached the top and found myself staring at the road below at Raja's seat. I struck a conversation with a guy over there, and soon, he was my unofficial and unpaid tourist guide. Coincidentally, even he had gone through a heart break. We bonded instantly, or you could call it bromance. We had a great conversation while exploring ancient forts and ruins, just like our love lives.
We eventually parted ways and i was on my way back home. I did stop periodically to ask for directions and even picked up a guy who asked a lift till Mysore. "Hop on" i said, and even treated him at Cafe Coffee Day. The country bugger was shocked that a coffee costs 50 bucks! But he was grateful for the lift. I reached home at 8 pm.
A gang of bikers, 8 of them, were shocked when i told them that i am from Mysore and i have no company, when they overtook me at Coorg. They were right. Only a crazy person, or one lost in love,would drive all the way to Coorg, solo and back to Mysore. I had even dozed off, temporarily, while driving back. I had pushed my bike and my body to its limits.
This incident was the starting point of many more bike adventures, especially solo ones. Not once have i met with an accident nor crashed. I have always made it back intact, with the bike. I guess i have a guardian angel, and have been adopted by the highway.
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