The Monsoon Ride 2017-Varshada Sparsha 4

The Monsoon Ride 2017

Varshada Sparsha 4   

Moto-Waltz to God’s Own Meadows

    

In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself astray in a dark wood where the straight road had been lost sight of.     

-Dante Alighieri 

 Day 1:

On a cloudy Friday morning, we embarked upon yet another motorcycle fest. The fourth edition of our annual Monsoon Ride kicked off from Bengaluru, with 3 KTMs, 1 Royal Enfield Bullet and 1 Ducati Diavel gunning down the damp road towards the little town of Kanakapura for Breakfast.

Strong coffee sealed the deal for the next few hours, and its flavor lingered in my head for a while.

This time, the Saint and i had upgraded our helmets with wireless communication systems. This helped us monitor the chain of bikes. More foresight was made available from the one ahead, to the one behind the chain, about unruly vehicles and unwanted unmarked kill Joy road humps.

By the time we reached our next check point just before the town of Kollegal, the sun was bright and the day was hot. Here our Mysore comrades, The Farmer and Mr. Bolt were expected to be waiting for us.

“But the Mysureans live up to their tradition of being late, and are not there at the rendezvous point. A phone call reveals that they are at least an hour away from us. After fueling the bikes at Kollegal town, we head straight on the road towards Malay Mahadeshwara hills and halt at a junction, where the road splits like a Snake’s tongue”

 A small box of a shop helped us with water bottles, as we waited for the late comers. Our deviation here would take us deep into Sathyamangalam forests, and slip us into the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu.

These forests were once ruled by the Notorious Forest Brigand Veerappan.

At the box of a shop, The Mysore riders finally joined us and were welcomed with gentle abuses and bear hugs.

A couple of people at the shop, sincerely advised us to take it slow and safe on these roads as several fatal incidents had occurred in the recent past, due to reckless motorists.

Just as we prepared to leave, a bunch of excited local boys walked in to take a closer look at the well stacked bikes. Speed Demon had just worn his ear phones and helmet, and at that exact moment when these boys arrived, he received a phone call in his helmet.

Speed Demon: Hello.

One of the Local boys: Hi

Speed Demon: How are you?

Local boy: I am fine.. how are you? “……

Mr. Bolt, The Principal and me were unable to hold back our bursts of laughter, until the boy realized he was an intruder into someone else’s conversation.

We started our Journey on a straight average quality road for some time and then entered the forests. Once into the forests, the road was wet, narrower with beautiful tarmac and tight blind curves. Speed Demon led the group carefully into the forest roads, with continuous hand gestures about the road and the oncoming traffic. 

Tamil Nadu greeted us with some amazing visuals of a valley on the left and spectacular road conditions. Now the group began to speed up and in no time, we were blazing on these curves. Then came the shocker.

“Apparently, The Farmer decides to make a video of us as we come out of the curve. To do that, he races ahead, but is unaware that the soil off the road, which has been exposed to very heavy rains, is extremely soft and slippery. The Farmer, who intends to make the video on his mobile, slows and goes off the road to stop. But the soil hauls the bike further and dumps it straight into the ditch. The bike dips its beak into the flowing water but The farmer manages to gain control and now stands with the bike like a tight rope walker”

“The Saint and me shoot out of a left turning curve, and are stunned to see a KTM with the front wheel in a ditch full of flowing water. Short man The Farmer is balancing the bike on the tip of his toes, resisting the gravity that is pulling him into the ditch. All bikers immediately halt and approach the bike. I advice others to park the bike on the tarmac and not off the road and turn my bike to make a video of this rescue operation”

By the time i had reached to the rescue ops ....the bike was off the ditch..but rooted to the slimy soil.

From where The Star saw, it looked like The Farmer had taken his horse to the water for a drink.

In my urgency to make a video, I too had put my wheels on the soil, but luckily not into the ditch. 3 riders had to help pluck the Farmer’s “birdie” out of the ditch, and then come to pull me out too, from the strange greasy soil.

Back on the road, we quickly joined the Chamarajanagar- Sathyamangalam highway. Once we crossed a place called Dimbam, the curvy road became perilous and we had to be extremely cautious. Some trucks would turn on the outer edge of a hairpin, halt, reverse to realign and then get out of the hairpin. 

One trucker literally power drifted through S-Curves, as he simply didn’t feel like slowing down.

But Speed Demon, The Principal, The Farmer and The Star, had gone berserk and vanished in and out of curves like Fighter jets in a dog fight. The view of the faraway lands, that this road offered was exceptional. We untangled down the hairpins towards Sathyamangalam Town. The bikes were fueled again and we pounced upon some Hot Tamil Nadu style Vegetarian lunch.

Post lunch, we took directions and headed towards a town called Pollachi, where we had planned to halt for the night. A few kilometers into the ride, the road became broad, with open curves and clear visibility. But the clouds ahead had turned dark and first few drops forced us to a stop to get the rain wear on. We continued to ride with unabated spirits, in the pounding rain. What caught my attention was that the rain blew onto me from my right at an oblique angle, closer to horizontal.

We were back under the sun by late afternoon and this region of Tamil Nadu presented us with a surprise…

"Relentless gusts of winds nearly shove us off the road. We push harder against it at formidable speed, firmly opposing this massive force. I gently lean my bike against the wind to my right and continue. Strangely, the wind carries me and my bike….. The road is narrow in these wind fields, and a bewildered me is at a strange angle, gently resting on an invisible air pillow....

Far on to my left, like a tiny sentinel,… first among the thousands, appears like a new life form… churning and feeding on the wind.

…………………………………Windmills… .. countless windmills pop up from the land as we proceed”

We finally reached the town of Pollachi. The burning hot bikes were safely parked in the Hotel basement and we took our rooms to freshen up. As usual, I didn’t have to share my room with any one, due to my mastery over the rare art of sno(roar)ing. The room I got was more of a corridor with a bathroom, more suitable for Junkies to get stoned safely.

About an hour later, we went into the restaurant of the hotel and ordered some tasty food. Several plates of fish and fries, deep fried chicken, onion Pakodas, doseys and liters of juices were demolished.

A huge, shadow like, unfriendly looking man behind a desk kept looking at us very seriously from the time we had entered the restaurant.

Since liquor sales were banned along the highways of India, we enquired the waiter about the nearest place to buy some beer. The waiter said we should discuss with the Bar Manager. 
That Big unfriendly looking man was the Bar Manager, who was managing a Bar which didn’t exist anymore.

But what gave away the big man’s mighty presence, was when he spoke. His voice sounded like an Indian Snake Charmer’s Trumpet. 

"Only KF Strong beer… ad onne saar available“… says the big man through his malfunctioning, air horn.“

The Farmer: Do you have Bud ?

Big Man: No Saaarr.. wonly KF strong.

Mr. Bolt: KF premium?

Big Man: KF Strong onne saar…

Me: Whisky, Vodka, ….?

Big Man: illey saar.. KF strong onne Saar.. only 10 bottles available.”

We gave up and decided to stick to the 10 KF strongs and requested him to serve it chilled, by 7.30pm.

The word “chilled” seemed to have a different meaning to the Bar Manager, as 7 bottles of frozen beer arrived at the party room. To add to the cold misery, the thawing beer started to send the fizz out first. 

We were now suckling on fizz from beer bottles which looked like ice volcanoes. I decided to add some water to help it thaw faster, and that helped to a great extent and made the beer lighter. The Party continued with dinner ordered into the room.

Day 2:

I got up from a deep, satisfying sleep and was ready to ride in 45mins. Mr. Bolt too was up and restless. But other folks had to be forced out of their beds. This caused serious delay and added two and half hours to our planned start time of 7.30am.

By 10am we rolled out of Pollachi, towards Udumalpet and then we would cross over to Kerala State. On this beautiful road, we got to see some spectacular visuals of the windmills with far away mountain ranges as the back drop.

After Udumalpet, the roads entered dense jungles. Kerala welcomed us with an amazing road packed with quick curves, clear visibility and all of us started cornering to our hearts content. 

Narrow roads with amazing scenic views of valleys and a far away waterfall made this section of the Chinnar Wildlife Sanctuary, absolutely sublime.

“This is a tailor-made road to learn and practice the art of cornering motorcycles. It takes you all the way till Munnar Town and beyond….

Trust me .... that’s long enough to drown innumerable times, deep into serious motorcycle cornering desire”

The shimmering tea estates and mountains continued till we were out of Munnar. 







We had just managed to cross Munnar town by lunch time, while the actual plan was to reach Vagamon for lunch. Vagamon may be a lesser known hill station for people outside Kerala, but that could be the exact reason why it remains pristine.

“The Star, sweeps his bike from edge to edge. The additional carriers on the sides of the Bullet nearly touch the road"

A White Mercedes approaching from the opposite side, was forced to a grinding halt by The Star's edge to edge snake dance. The Merc driver looked shell shocked but the Lady Co-driver seemed to have a hearty laugh.

Some biscuits and chocolates at a small shop helped energize ourselves. We were now completely Butt Numb, deeply engaged in serious cornering and speeding on these beautiful roads. I failed to notice that The Saint and The Farmer chased me at very close quarters. Later, I got to know that we had done some synchronized riding for a very long duration, engaged in a new dance form, which i called ...."Moto-Waltz".........😀

At last, a board indicated the deviation to Vagamon which led us into a fairly damaged, narrow road which climbed. Several more kilometers later, boards of small home stays and resorts started to dot the roadside. The road abruptly curved down and right, taking us in between walls of massive rock formations on either sides. Finally we reached the resort where we were to halt over night.

The resort Manager was a young boy, who said …

“Yes Sir, Ok Sir, Shoor Sir…” without understanding a single word that I uttered. I had to repeat things multiple times to assure myself that he understood.

A huge mountain with Pine forests was a visual extravaganza that this place offered to us.

“If Kerala is God’s Own Country, then Vagamon is God’s Own Meadows”

The enchanting beauty of this place had a healing effect on my tired body and mind.

A late lunch by 5 pm on fantastic Kerala Style roasted chicken, chapathi’s, Veg kurma and other preparations was satisfying. The Principal, The Star and Speed Demon snored away while the rest of us were engaged in chit chat.

Our party liquids arrived when we had finished lubricating drive chains of the bikes.

By 8 PM a great party followed with waves of laughter vanishing into the silent meadows.

Day 3:

A very late dinner the previous night delayed our awakening at dawn. An even more delayed breakfast service from the resort yet again added 2 hours to the ride start time. The original plan to trace the route back to Munnar, to ride those wonderful curves and head to Coimbatore was now changed by Speed Demon. Since majority accepted the change in plan, we now headed towards the City of Trissur.

The road from the resort took us through some scenic views of the meadows and through Vagamon Town. People flew kites from mountain tops and the inflow of tourists was heavy as it was a Sunday.

Every turn threw at us a superb visual of the huge mountains and stark rock faces. The road was quite rough and led us into some deep interior regions of Kerala.

“Curvy uphill and downhill roads, with a thick canopy, make certain sections of the road almost dark, preventing the sunlight from touching the tarmac. Each curve thrusts us up at unsafe gradients and altitude gain is exponential”

Once these tight sections eased out, we were blazing in and out of broad curves, lined with rubber plantations, huge bungalows and stone masonry walls abutting the road. A small folly in cornering could paste you like a poster on one of the stone masonry walls.

We rammed in and out of these curves and thoroughly enjoyed the outcome. However, the intermittent road construction works were a kill joy and seriously added to the ride time. We stopped for lunch at a very neat restaurant in a town, the name of which I am unable to pronounce.

Post lunch, we entered a broad 6 lane national Highway, which led us to Trissur. The ride now switched over to a high octane engine thrashing mode. Speed Demon put the new additions to his KTM, a 3^rd Party performance ECU and transmission Quick Shifter, through ultimate endurance test, multiple times.

After tea at Trissur Bypass, Speed Demon started first but was quickly halted by a police man. Seeing this, The Star and i tucked ourselves behind a truck, out of the Cop's sight and managed to slip through, while most others were halted and then allowed to go. Speed demon was fined Rs.100.

“The reason I can best describe as ,...lack of hind sight”

It took us more than an hour to get back on to the 6 lane NH, as the next 15kms from Trissur was packed with traffic and there was no defined road. Everywhere there was construction happening in an attempt to build roads and flyovers, and everywhere there was traffic congestion. It looked like some kind of a wild migration of vehicles from all directions.

Once back on the neat roads, we were troubled by traffic signals every few kilometers. The Saint and i decided to shoot off like drag racers every time the green lights turned on. The Sun set behind us by the time we reached the Toll booth before Coimbatore.

That evening at the hotel, as The “Beer filled” Star, sang some old Hindi and Kannada songs, we lip synced those with some Tamil movie sequences on muted TV, which created a hilarious combination of Audio Visuals. 
The neighboring room was occupied by a Priest from Kerala...

"Looks like one of those shady looking children of black magic".. i had thought.

 In the hotel corridor, I had seen him advising someone over his mobile, about some worshiping procedures to correct a planetary lineup issue.

I was pretty sure, our loud laughter would have resulted in 7 dolls with pins on all vital organs, on the table in his room.

Delightfully colored liquids kept brimming up the glasses, followed by a gorgeous dinner.

Day 4:

This day of the ride had some unexpected weather conditions. The road that climbed from Coimbatore to Coonoor was stunningly beautiful, but unforgiving if slipped. The hot weather was replaced by dark grey clouds once we entered the upper contours of the Nilgiri Biosphere.

Just before Coonoor, some of us stopped and got into rain wear. Unfortunately, The Saint’s Jacket was deprived of the inner water proof layer, as it was lost somewhere in time during the past 2 days.

We continued to climb and the rain pounded on us. I could hear The Saint screaming over the wireless, as the water trickled into his jacket. Every time the ice cold water touched him in a new location, a loud “F*$k” or “S*#t” or something related to someone’s sister was transmitted into my helmet. I responded with unsympathetic loud spells of laughter. In spite of having the inner lining ON, I felt absolutely cold. I can only imagine The Saint’s condition…

..” and we are far from the next planned halt at the hill top town, Udhagamandalam or Ooty”.

The ride continued and I hardly got to see any particular detail of Coonoor due to the heavy deluge in the atmosphere. The Monsoon which was silent after day 1, had suddenly woken up and was now gunning for us.

A 3 or 4 Kilometer Traffic Jam welcomed us as we entered Ooty. We would keep nudging into the wrong side of the narrow serpentine road, but would quickly restore ourselves back in line when anything came from the opposite side. It was a battle to reach the middle of the town, where we regrouped. This time, Speed Demon was missing. A phone call revealed that he was a few kilometers ahead. My stomach was empty and the cold rain had kicked in a large appetite. There were several hotels inviting us, but we had to catch up with Speed Demon.

“The ride continues ….and suddenly a Mobile phone jumps out of an auto and slides on the road. I am behind The Saint, who is behind that Auto. I watch the phone slide towards a cow that’s resting on the side of the road. I am sure that phone will safely hit the soft belly of the cow.........

But the Saint thinks differently. The saint intercepts the sliding mobile, puts his leg out to stop it. The mobile bounces off his foot and heads straight towards a gutter. The phone stops over the metal grill of the water logged gutter, precariously poised”.

Upon asking over the wireless what that stunt was all about, the response was the sound of a guilty grin. There was no way the phone could be kicked back into its owner who sat inside the Auto. But the attempt was definitely worth it...

"In the land of Rajanikanth..., you never know....."

When we met Speed Demon, all hotels had vanished and we were all famished. Just a few Kilometers further, we found a lineup of stalls selling tender coconut, freshly boiled golden colored corn dusted with salt and red chilly powder, fresh cut fruits, tea, bread and omelette. A street side feast began and continued for nearly an hour.

After that, we hit the road fully refreshed and some stretches were like tunnels through thick vegetation. Intermittent drizzle made me and Mr. Bolt ride slower than the rest and absorb the serenity of these forests. Getting down the hill was also depressing.

 
“The end of these beautiful curves, have also signaled the end of  this Journey. Now, the feeling of heading homeward glows dimly in my heart”

Once off the hills, the road was absolutely stunning and we crossed over to Karnataka State. Bandipura Tiger Reserve welcomed us with a group of Elephants feeding on the road side, a Wild Gaur, a herd of Spotted deer, a couple of Sambar Deer and colorful birds, frolicking under the trees. Thick clouds silently took over the skies of the forest.

We reached Gundlupete town at around 4 PM. 

This Year’s Monsoon ride concluded safely at Gundlupete, as the group split from here and headed homewards. With bear hugs we departed to our planned destinations. A heavy drizzle began to take its course on this little town.

“The group departs from this little town...Thick grey clouds are ready and waiting at the gates.... with smashing intentions....
Bengaluru is at least 6 hrs from here.....Long enough for the rains? Maybe. ...

... but never enough for us”

We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started... and know the place for the first time.     

-TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot

                                                                                                                                                - SLr

A Mid Summer Escapade

"On a warm summer morning, a busy urban life starts with my ear picking up the sound of the mild wake-up call from the mobile phone. Looking at the ceiling fan blow warm air swiftly, it feels like another journey has started on a treeless road and the destination is nothing but the End Of The Day. The day then goes by quickly on this scorching road, with nothing new to learn or a need to unlearn, not a single vehicle in the rear view mirror of this journey.. or in front, ....just cruise control ON,...till the end of the day.

And what it makes me at the EOD? Nothing but a burning hot steam engine, which has run out of water, sweating and looking back at the ceiling fan blow hot air swiftly…with an aching mind, thinking of an essential break, day dreaming of a real journey, that can act as a pain killer.... with no EOD,... just pure AOD - Adrenaline On Demand"

Day1:

On an early summer morning, Bengaluru city was in the twilight zone, in the middle of possibly the hottest summer in its history.

But cool winds charged into my jacket vents, as I rode along with Speed Demon and The Saint. 2 of our frantically raging KTMs were mellowed down by the fluttering boom of the GS1200 Beemer. We were fast and swung through the Saturday early morning's moderately heavy traffic on Bangalore-Mysore road leaving Bangalore for the weekend.

But we weren’t racing each other or the traffic; we were racing against the Sun, who quickly rose, visible once in a while on the rear view mirror. The plan was to stop at a place called Yelwala, on Hunsur road to meet up with 2 comrades from Mysore. As it has always happened, we had to wait for a good 30 minutes, letting the sun chase and run us down, before their arrival.

But their arrival brought in a lot of excitement. Mr. Bolt’s brand new, Unregistered, Kawasaki Versys 1000, looked like a beautiful bride. 

After some casual chit chat, and keen observations on The Bride’s curves and other Very Important motoring discussions about KTMs, BMWs, Tyres, Brakes, bike Tech, Girls, etc.. we shifted to a nearby road side vendor who sold tender coconuts. The five of us drank a dozen of those coolers, and quickly …the mood ………was to start racing.

The road to Hunsur was broad and flat, inviting us to push harder into the atmosphere. Our plan was to pass Hunsur, Gonikoppa and hit the little town of Kutta. (which balances itself on the border between the States of Karnataka and Kerala)

Once we entered Coorg, the curves became tighter, road narrower, and each curve sling shot us into another curve, which turned the other way. The bikes held the road neatly.

The ride was fast and by 11.30am, we entered the narrow life lines of Kutta town, which took us down to a small home stay called Green Retreat. The host received us and showed us a garage to park the burning hot machines.

An entire ancestral home (several decades old), with innumerable rooms and beds was given to us for the next 2 nights.

The sun had incinerated us and a quick water service on ourselves was refreshing. By 12.30 PM we were riding down the ghats, passing a heavily packed public hall, which we guessed was hosting a traditional Coorgi Wedding.

Famished and burnt, our lunch was planned at Café Robusta, just off the road, at the bottom of a small valley. Liters of splendid lemon Juice and butter milk were consumed in a matter of minutes, as large portions of food ordered and reordered, came in like waves and we demolished it all.

We paid and left lazily under the afternoon sun, but rode quickly to reach the cool home stay. We took our places in the living room which had beds, chairs, a dining table and a very old BPL TV. Slowly wickets fell, and all were in deep slumber for a couple of hours.

By five, the sun had calmed down and we decided to take a ride into the neighboring State of Kerala.

I led the Raid to Kerala followed by the rest of the troupe. The roads in Kerala were neat, inviting us to start cornering. 


It must have rained for some time, before we breached into Kerala, as the road was partially damp. But that didn’t stop the bike bending and banking business. Speed Demon Vanished, followed by The Saint and The Farmer.

Quickly Mr. Bolt over took me and banked his New Bride rightwards at a staggering angle which left me hitting the brakes to wait and watch what happens. The bike banked right at an unholy angle, burst out of the apex and sped away leaving me at awe. Mr. Bolt had always done this kind of high speed corners before, but never this deep into any curve. My attempt to catch up was futile, so instead, I absorbed the beauty of the forest.

The quick Raid into Kerala halted at a small village. The road hit a T-junction. Right turn would take us deep into God’s Own Country and the Left would take us to a place called Kuruva islands.

The Farmer had tried to wedge his mobile phone behind the front number plate of his KTM and cracked its protection glass, giving us a good enough reason to laugh out loud.

He had somehow managed to make a video that was way beyond ridiculous. I was unable to figure out what had confused him, the front or the rear camera of his mobile phone or a dull display on its screen…but the entire video was a grand visual of the KTM fuel tank, with the Farmer’s groin gently rubbing about it from left to right and right to left, with the frantic rattle of the KTMs single cylinder… ( ;-)..LOL…)

For the rest of us, tears of extreme joy flowed, after seeing this footage.

Speed demon bought a load of bananas (Nendra Baaley or Phalam) and most of us apes were feeding again.

Just then, a police vehicle passed by us, halted at the T-junction, and started routine traffic inspection of unsuspecting two wheeler and rickshaws.

Now, I looked at Mr. Bolt, realized we both were thinking alike. The Bride was yet unregistered in an RTO. The KTMs orange made every one turn to look at the line up of bikes. 

“What if one of these cops gets attracted to the Bride, which was standing there without a street legal ID on the number plate?”

I expressed my uneasiness about the scene to which Mr. Bolt seriously acknowledged, but were shoved off by the rest, who wanted to further enjoy the bananas.

Speed Demon was in a mood to dip the banana in a cup of hot milk, infused with Horlicks

(“I wonder what that tastes like!!!”).

However, after only a few minutes, we gently insisted and started moving towards the bikes to push off from that place. 

“We walk across the road and I advice Mr. Bolt to quickly leave and wait after a couple of curves in the forest. I get on to the Bike, when I hear an explosion of laughter by Speed Demon and The Saint. Ignoring them with an eye on the cops, I tried to unlock the bike, but the key doesn’t turn.. perplexed….I try harder, as my comrades laugh louder and inform me that I was on the wrong bike…"

This key on Speed Demon’s Bike was, not working.

“Damn the KTMs… they all look alike,…especially when I am attempting to make a quick getaway!!…and I am left churning my teeth instead of the ignition  key”

We finally rolled out and headed back towards Kutta.

Soon the Speed Demon nosedived into a curve and vanished. The cool weather, dusky illumination of the road and the curves made the rest of them replicate that nosedive, one after the other, behind Speed Demon, and they vanished.

I remember the distinct Booming Grunt of the Beemer bellowing, as it over took me, with The Saint pushing it to staggering speeds on curvy roads, while banking at scary angles. This time I decided to chase them, if not corner like them.

Quickly we were back in Karnataka, and now headed towards the Nagaraholey National Park entrance gates. The gate was a dead end for us, as two wheelers are not allowed beyond this point.

We spent time making images, as the sun vanished. 

We started riding back, but soon we had to halt to watch a “Local Michael Jackson” dancing next to the road. The fairly loud engine acoustics of the chain of bikes must have kicked up his zeal and he gave a commendable performance, without the hint of any music…

“… dancing at his will...”  

Back in Kutta, we sat under the open sky in front of the ancestral home and a great party followed. We got to hear Speed Demon’s experience with the California Superbike School. He had opted to learn from them, to reach higher Echelons of super biking. He shared with us, his experiences, his learning, the talent pool in that place, the kick-ass female rider who left all other riders of that batch behind, to smell the rubber she had burnt… and how a Ducati had to be hauled home on 4 wheels.

We decided that the next day, we would take the longer winding road to the hilltop town of Madikeri for lunch and back.

The intoxication and a Great dinner resulted in a perfectly tuned snoring pattern by me, who was now exiled to a solitary confinement for the same reason.

I just prayed the house was not haunted before entering an overnight coma…LOL.

Day 2:

We woke up by 7am, with the sun burning down upon the beautiful coffee estate. Breakfast was a feast on superb Dosey, Chutney and a superb version of Channa Masala, making it a simple and perfect marriage between North and South Indian cuisine. A round of nice Tea in Coffee land was pleasant.

We rolled out of Kutta towards Madikeri by 10am under the hot sun. As decided, we took the longer, narrower and curvier road, via Shrimangala, Ponnampet, Gonikoppa, Pollibetta and Siddapura.

This road was exactly what we had asked for. Keeping in mind cornering tips by Speed Demon, I tried to corner a little harder. 

“Trust me, when you breach the set mental barrier of a certain angle on such roads, you will know.. because your heart skips many beats simultaneously till you come out safe from the apex of the curve …

There is some kind of a connection the brain has to develop…this connection then feeds the desired reflexes to the body …and the body reacts exactly to achieve the balance, and bike just plays along in and out of the curve at staggering angles.

For me, this art is yet to be practiced harder to enjoy it better”

In Ponnampet, we saw a lot of crowd gathered along the road. The road ran on an embankment with a steep fall to the left.

I thought an accident had attracted all the attention, but was surprised to see this…

“A large piece of slushy land has been converted to a dirt racing track. A vehicle is wrestling with the slush and we can hear announcements for the next line up. We stop to look at this motor sports event. Coorgi folks are known for their keen interest in Motor sports and this is a live example as to how they have kept this as an integral part of their social life”.

The ride to Madikeri was led by Speed Demon. All the skills from his training session were being put to use, but in a manner… ..that was extreme…

“..Speed Demon overtakes me and I see he has a mobile in his left hand,(… we are travelling at not less than 70 Kmph). I assume he is trying a selfie as we approach a curve…. but, I decelerate, to understand what Speed Demon is up to.

Speed demon dives into the right turning curve, using only his right hand on the throttle and is now much closer to the horizontal, comes out of the curve (back to vertical), hits  the next left curve, balancing the bike on edges of its Michelins, and then again,..back to vertical…

.. This continues for some distance and the gap between Speed Demon and me, keeps increasing. I realize that he is making a video in one hand and riding the bike with the other… “

The word “Riding” seemed like an understatement..

“Now, Mr. Bolt must have observed this from the back. He zooms past me and starts plunging his Bride into the curves,… replicating the Speed Demon”

At this point I felt Speed Demon was really pushing it hard and it was not worth taking such risks. 

“A few kms later, the duel seems to have ended and we catch up with them…but I am wrong.. Speed Demon slows down and now starts making videos of The Farmer’s cornering skills. Again the same madness continues for a few more kilometers”.

This circus with the camera continued with the Speed Demon filming almost all of us in turns, repeatedly.

We stopped just outside Madikeri town when I decided to politely tell Speed Demon and ended up saying,

“your brain has been wired differently… you can only be some sort of a Mental Man to pull off that kind of Mad stunts”

The “cornering human camera stand” only smiled back with glee … ...

“Oh dear God,..this madness is going to continue post lunch…” ...was my next thought, as i read it off his happy face...

A lip smacking lunch  at Hotel East End in Madikeri recharged us. We unwound ourselves from the hills and headed back to Kutta under an angry Sun. Luckily, Speed Demon’s mobile phone battery ran out quickly….and he had to stop his Block Buster movie production… “Thank God”.

We were back in Kutta by around 4 PM. Fresh Jack fruit and tea were refreshing and after a good bath, we decided to while away time till sunset, doing nothing but relax in silence. Some of us slept, and we all did take a walk into the beautiful plantation before sunset, that evening.

After sunset, we went to Hotel PPM in Kutta Town, for some delightful Mint Lime juice and packed some fish Fry for the night party.

Just when the first round of party liquids started trickling in to our veins, the home stay owner gave us a visit and checked if we had gone on the road to Kerala, which happened to run along the border of this plantation. Lucky we didn’t, as there were a few Elephants which had blocked the road for a while and were now foraging in this plantation.

Silence fell upon us like a dark blanket. We were sitting under a starry sky, next to the well lit house and there was definitely no need to panic. We did hear the sound of breaking trees once in a while.

A heavy dinner and we were all now riding down a “deep sleep highway”, after a long, tiring, yet satisfying day of riding the curves.

Day 3:

On the last day, we rode back to Bengaluru under the burning hot sun who incinerated us further more. I had done the whole trip in shorts with knee and shin guards, which left my calf muscles, exposed. This resulted in some artistically tanned calf muscles… making two baby Zebras out of them.

We all knew that we were riding back to that life again, ..that warm summer morning, in a busy urban life,..

However, the day I started this blog, the memories of the couple of days of AOD were enough for the mind to travel back on a Solitary Loiter, like a spectator who was a bystander on the roads, or behind a tree, looking at all these travelers on their bikes. 

Guess that is the best part about such quick journeys... 
For us apes, these little biking expeditions, are like small doses of AODs for peaceful EODs. 

-   SLr