JAMMING IN JAMMIES WITH JAMULAPATI AT OOTY- DAY 2

After having pizza at Dominos, falling in a crush with a girl who worked there, and getting lost in the dark, we reached our pit stop for the night, YWCA hostel, Coonoor. We got our rooms and just plonked on our beds. We could not sleep. So Vikram rattled off his life experience in college and girlfriends lost. He started to weep and had a running nose too. But he was not overcome by emotion. Instead, the smoke from the mosquito coil got the better of him.

We started early the next morning. A healthy breakfast of dosas, sambar and coffee fueled us. We headed to  Dolphin nose and surrounding areas. It was breathtaking. A narrow road, mist, blind curves and to top it all, a fall 200 feet down. We did reach the place, sipping tea and eavesdropping on the legend that lovers commit suicide here; a fall so great that body remains fit into matchboxes. That sent shivers down our spine.

Next were a few gardens here and there. We left after a light lunch, at Dominos, again and for the last time, i saw the girl on whom i had a crush. From there, we took the longer route back to Mysore. The road was pretty bad and Vikram raced ahead. He even overtook a Volvo and almost collided head-on with a truck. I rode a little cautiously. I did steal a few glances of the tea estates below. 

We had to speed up. The gates at the Karnataka border closed at 6 PM. Once we had crossed it, the drive through Bandipur was awesome. The light was fading, and the animals were out. I saw a wild elephant and a Gaur. This massive beast was elegant. This was the first time i was seeing one at close range in the wild. I finally caught up with Vikram, and after a cup of coffee later, the journey towards home began.

I enjoyed this journey. The early morning walk, freshly brewed tea and simplicity of life charmed me. Ooty and Coonoor are a must visit for any biker. The biker soul gets revved up after a ride to these places. One of the best long distance rides i ever undertook.

JAMMING IN JAMMIES WITH JAMULAPATI AT OOTY- DAY 1

15 minutes to go before the exam. I was outside the hall when i saw a boy studying under the shade of a tree. I had a quick chat with him. Five years later, he was my biker bud on my first inter-state ride.
Vikram was your chocolate boy, with good looks and a great sense of fashion. He had the same bike as me.  His knowledge of books was quite impressive and since i was an avid reader myself, our friendship grew stronger. After my Master's exams were over, Vikram suggested that we go to Ooty. It would also be the first time i had stayed overnight during a bike ride. My parents agreed and off we rode to the beautiful place.
Vikram was the perfect guy for this. He had studied in Ooty and had been there before by bike. He knew places which were not found in tourist maps. The road to Ooty, the one with hairpin bends was a tough one. I had a clumsy bag tied at the back which often shifted its weight. I was left with no choice but to carry it on my shoulders, which tired me. The bikes were put under stress up the steep incline. Yamaha Gladiators were not meant for this. The worse part was when a SUV full of gorgeous girls was parked at the side, and the bike just stopped, as if to stare at them. It would not move from there. The incline was just too much. I was left huffing and puffing, trying to push the bike.
The cold air, the mist, the smell of tea and the sight of those tea-workers with baskets filled with green leaves; no matter how many times you visit, you never get tired of the place. The old British style houses told a tale of their own. Our first stop was a grave. The peace i found in that place was just surreal. It was a very old one, with some graves dating back to the 1800s. The in-charge of the place was kind enough to let us inside the chapel.
After many churches and schools, we made a stop at a park, where we spotted an old guy, his young wife and two photographers who made them pose in awkard positons. This was when i came up with my most innovative phrase for lovers in public places, 'Mr & Mrs. Dick Banger'.

MUGILPETE,PARADISE VIA HELL'S ROAD- PART 4 MAMA I'M COMING HOME

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....

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.

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.

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.

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.