The Monsoon Ride 2015 - Varshada Sparsha 2.0 ...extreme curves

"For a Pilgrim, only at the end of an arduous climb up a mountain, will the Divine reveal its utter resplendence ".

 The Monsoon Ride 2015

Varshada Sparsha 2.0 – extreme curves

 Day 1: (The Happy Start)

After a year and a month, on a Friday evening, we were back in Shimoga City. Our Monsoon Ride 2015 had kicked off at Pingara Bar and Restaurant, chatting over spicy snacks and some cool delightful gold coloured concoctions of many shades. We shared our memories from the previous year's Monsoon Ride. (http://hrishikenatravelogue.blogspot.in/2014/08/the-monsoon-ride-2014-varshada-sparsha.html )

Other than Speed Demon, The Saint, Mr. Carbman, Mr. Bolt, The Farmer and myself, we had The Star, Mr. Widow and The Guru, for this year's edition of Varshada Sparsha, with a rather saucy tagline ..."extreme Curves"

We discussed some critical views on the quality of Royal Enfield bikes, how poor their service was, other new age bike technology, tyres and many such crucial topics for a bunch of riders.  

About the Ride we were about to embark upon, all i had to say was..

"Tomorrow, the moment you are unable to avoid a fall, leave the bike and walk or jump away"

Before drowsing away to sleep at the hotel, i felt a little apprehensive....

"Can our Bullets make it? The 2 KTMs seem pretty comfortable and the Kawasaki 650 has the build of a bull... these three will definitely thrash it out... but what about our Bullets? What if someone takes a tumble? ...Hope all the bikes have engine guards! ...Conquering the Mighty Kodachadri is indeed a big challenge"

The thought gently stirred itself into the good level of intoxication and watered down into a dreamless sleep.

Day 2:( The day of The extreme curves)

The peak of Kodachadri, (The hill of Kutaja- or Girimallika - Jasmine of the hills), stands at around 1300 m from mean sea level. On top is a holy place called Sarvajna Peetha, a place dedicated to the Great Shankaracharya, who would meditate there. A holy place visited by lots of people mostly from Karnataka and Kerala, before embarking upon their annual Penance journey to Shabarimala, in Kerala. Keralites have a special place in their hearts for this place and Goddess Mookambika at the nearby town, Kollur.

A late start got us under the hot sun on a Saturday morning. A quick check enlightened us that Mr. Carbman's, virus prone, cow loving bullet, (http://hrishikenatravelogue.blogspot.in/2014/08/the-monsoon-ride-2014-varshada-sparsha.html ) had traveled about 300 kms to reach Shimoga, on engine oil vapours in its oil sump. As we filled up our fuel tanks at a fuel station, the bullet swallowed 2 liters of red coloured lubricant like a bloodthirsty beast. We rolled out westwards from Shimoga on a straight flat road in a queue, except Speed Demon, who by his usual habit, had vanished into oblivion.

A deviation at Ayanur took us left, on the flat curvy roads towards Kodachadri. The weather was good and the bikes played along well with the rider's mood. 

The group broke into fragments. Some of the riders found an old fort nearby and rode up the fort with a beautiful view of a lake. 







Finally, we all met up at Ambika homestay at the foothills of Kodachadri, where we dumped our luggage, gobbled some food up, threw some coffee/ tea/ buttermilk into the intestines and chuckled at The Guru's witty dialogues.

If you have seen the logo of HIS MASTER's VOICE (the HMV Record company), there is a gramophone with a huge speaker, into which a dog is intently looking, with unbroken attention. Well, when 'The Guru' starts off on his rolls of narratives, all the group members are as attentive as the dog, at the beginning. Progressively (In case we had a similar logo like HMV) it would be inevitable that dogs would be lying on their backs, with laughter induced seizures on the floor.

We started the ride up to Kodachadri by 12 PM, on a beautiful flat serpentine road for a few kilometers. We took the left turn where the road would change the game for us...

"A deviation to the left and we are now on a slushy mud road, where the deep tread marks of the old time Mahindras, are the only Tyre signatures. The group slows down as the bikes start to slide. Panic gently creeps up our spines."

I continued to tail the group, a little worried about how the terrain would change. Suddenly, Mr. Widow, Mr. Carbman and The Star came to an abrupt halt. Far, on the banks of the slushy road, i could see Speed demon, guiding Mr. Bolt on how to get the bike across the slush pool which was as wide as the road and about 20 meters long. The sight in front of me caused the shrinkage of certain personal assets. A Mahindra 4X4 crossed this section of the road with people clinging onto it , giving us a strange hostile look ..

"This is my turf you imbeciles, dare not tread on it"... glared the 4X4 at me and my Bullet, very much in a way the great villains of the black and white celluloid days would glare, at their about to be ravaged innocent female victims.

What we did not know, at this point, was that the next few Kms was a road made in Hell.

As Speed Demon helped the Bulleteers, The Saint and The Guru, who seemed to have crossed this mess pool easily, waited attentively. The Farmer, followed by Mr. Bolt crossed with extreme caution. The star followed them..

" The Star, who has suffered a broken hand a few months ago, wrestles with the slush, through his bike's handle. Just when i think he has succeeded, the bike slides to the right...The Star, as advised, carefully bails out, leaving the bullet crawling on the ground. Other riders who have crossed, run to help him pick the bike.

The Star mounts back onto his stardom, accelerates...

'not yet buddy' says the slush ....and the bike now slides left and stands perpendicular to the road, as if it has a mind of it's own, outrightly rejecting the rider's request to head straight. Some more help and The Star gets back in the right direction and continues"

I traced the tread marks left by the other riders, and crossed over as the next event unfolded in front of my eyes which were now trying hard to focus due to the bumpy road.

"The Star, attempts to turn left, up the first major curve and falls with the bike. The bail out is unsuccessful this time. Now the bullet has mounted The Star. Things shrink again for me. Mr. Speed Demon, quickly dumps his KTM and rushes to help The Star, who is pinned to the ground."

The engine guard had provided just enough gap, preventing the rider from taking the full impact of the fall, but the bike gently rested over the rider like a tired beast.. I skipped a beat, but was relieved to see that nothing serious had happened. The hurriedly abandoned KTM also crashed and broke a mirror .

Time just stood still for a moment. My mind raced to and fro over the lineup of events that had occurred. Few hours ago we were probably the safest looking riders on the highway. Now, bikes were leaping into the lap of mother earth, riders were trekking up and down to help the bikes trapped in slush and the fallen riders.

All the riders halted for a few minutes, with minimal chatter. I didn't know what was going on in their minds.

But, the spirit with which The Star shrugged off the incident and got back on the bike, left us not much time to think about which way to go. 
From where most of us stood at that point, there was only one way for us, ahead and up the hill. Giving up was not an option for me as i had charted this route for the ride.

We continued slowly, choosing the best possible path to climb the steep slippery surface, balancing our bikes on the outer and inner edges of the shapeless valleys of the road. 

Decades of heavy Monsoon Rains seemed to have set the perfect surface every year for the artistic tyre treads of the 4X4s, to carve perilous sculptures out of it. 

At that point a thought occurred to me....

".... we have not only taken on the Mighty Kodachadri, but pitted our Iron Horses against the 4 X 4 Metal of the Mahindra, with its occupants grinning at our plight as they pass by us..."

We slowly crawled up the tight curvy stretches. I had realised by then, that to rev up the engine was to invite trouble. I advised many of my comrades to bank on low rev torque which will get the bike's wheels to roll and hold on to the terrain, instead of skidding away from the intended direction. Especially the bullets seemed very good for this kind of work where low rev was the key.

The bullet operators quickly acclimatised to this reality and switched over to a low rev riding mode, with the clutch released as much as possible and climbed up the steep slippery terrain like spiders. The sounds of the well spaced thumps of my bike was the chant of the hour. In spite of the absolutely devastated surface conditions of the road, we got our bikes to cling to the surface and march up diligently.....though it was not the case with all of us.

As i looked up at the steep road, i saw The Guru and his Kawasaki, approach a left turning curve from the middle of the road and climb up to the outer line and attempt to turn left,

"The bike's limited turning radius, higher seating position and the wrong entry point into the curve puts the rider in a tight situation. The bike goes off balance and quickly embraces the road.. Luckily, The Guru has a clean bailout. Helped by Mr Bolt and The Farmer, the bike is pushed back on track."

The Guru rode up the steep section and parked the heavy bike. Next came The Saint, who cautiously approached the same curve.

"The Guru sends across his advice flying down the undulating, slippery slope of the road, telling him to take the outer line, like the way he himself did it. The Saint maneuvers around as advised and the same catastrophic result is replayed in front of us, again with a safe bailout."

After the rather misleading advice, The Guru sent across his sinister assessment of the fall to The Saint... saying ..

"Same spot... same spot..."

(What The Guru was thinking here is a very intriguing thought for me. LOL )
The Farmer Declared that Bullets were the best for this terrain.

The ride continued and after the next few extreme curves, the slopes gently eased out. We were now traversing the upper contours of the mountains, riding over jagged rocks and gravel, criss crossed by tiny rivulets. These sections of the road were exceptionally beautiful. I can only imagine how it would have been to ride up, in peak monsoon. I did miss the rain, which had not yet blessed us.

The deep valleys had innumerable shades of green. The sky was cloudy but allowed the sun to take a peek at us, once in a while. The cool wind was ethereal. 

7 of us had made it to this point where we stopped for a break, absorbing the timeless beauty of nature. Two of the riders had turned back and found themselves a little stream and indulged in a good water massage.

No matter what was said about the Royal Enfield bikes the previous night, as a standing testimony to its capability, all the Bullets had made it till here, without a glitch. A sense of pride filled our hearts to have reached this far on the most unforgiving road i had ever seen.

"We restart and in no time, Speed Demon has vanished. After riding about 200 meters, to my left is a vehicle track which climbs up at an angle of about 70 degrees, creating a jump up onto the mountain slope. The track then continues to climb at around 50 degrees angle, slowly curving right to reach the top of another mountain, with rocks sprinkled on top of it. The Star races up this road and heads straight to the top"

Mr. Widow, me and Mr. Carbman followed the trail. Mr. Bolt and The Farmer rode up behind us. The track levelled near the top, and the bikes were now balanced on the central rib along the length of the mountain, with steep falls on either sides. The visual this mountain offered on either sides as we rode, was enchanting. We caught up with The Star on the peak of this mountain,...

"..Where is Speed Demon, was my question.."

For which, The Star pointed his finger yonder, at another mountain peak, which looked much closer to the clouds than where we were. 

Far on top of the peak, a tiny looking Speed Demon stood in his own melancholy, looking away at what seemed to be an endless journey that lay ahead of him.

After riding up two dangerously steep sections, without thinking about how i would ride down these slopes, i parked the bike and trekked up to the peak to meet Speed Demon. Here awaited an exhilarating 360 degrees panoramic view of The Western Ghats, at cloud level. 

My mind was silenced for a few seconds. Every time i turned around, the panoramic canvas had a new landscape painted on it by the moving clouds. This made the landscape of the greens, greys and blue sky change perpetually in absolute silence, holding the Pilgrim's attention. We were indeed the Pilgrims who had not turned back from an arduous climb. By sheer willpower, we had taken upon ourselves an extreme physical and mechanical endurance challenge, and we had won.

"We have slipped, fallen, some injured. The bikes have taken the brunt. But we have ridden hard to reach these dizzying heights to reap the rewards. To come face to face with The Divine, looking straight back at us with its utter resplendence."

I could see the tiny little bikes of my comrades, climb down and up the mountains to reach us.

On one side, we could see the Govt Guest house of Kodachadri, where the Vehicle trail ended and behind it, was the Peak of Kodachadri, which could only be trekked. We spent some time on this peak.

After what we had experienced, over the past few hours, we cautiously rode down the 2 steep drops, and then reached the road that leads to the Guest house. The ride to the guest house was as gruelling, but it didn't matter any more. We all had mastered the art of rock climbing with bikes.

Now, the Mahindras and its occupants who passed by us, saw us with a bit of a serious look. The drivers seemed very intrigued by seeing us match their 4X4 performance and scramble our way to the top.

Just when i was assured that we had matched the Mahindra on its own turf, something caught my eye on the rear view mirror. I could see a small bike ridden by a local chap, who showed his entire collection of denture, with a little boy as his pillion whose eyes were wide open. To add insult to injury, he honked at us to make way for his royal chariot to pass by...

"...WTF..? ....this chap looks very happy to see us along these roads, asks me where we are from, compliments Mr. Widow for the efforts of reaching so far, overtakes and belts his way out of our sights.... Just unbelievable"

For all that we had been through, he made us look like Jokers ... LOL. As told to me later, Mr. Widow complimented back to this fellow telling,..

" ..you are great Saar... riding on these roads with a stepney seated behind you..."

We all had a good laugh at the guest house. A service of cold water from a tap, recharged us and a good long smoke settled my mind.

We carefully untangled our bikes down the perilous mountainous roads, with minimal chatter, and with no folly in our riding technique. The ride down was easier but was strenuous on my arms. We all reached the safety of the check post at the foothills of Kodachadri.

Eventually, we too found the little stream, that the 2 riders who had turned back had taken a dip in. The Star stripped and plunged into it, while some of us just dipped in till the knee. Speed Demon, The Star, Mr. Bolt and The Farmer gave an under belly wash for their bikes by daring into a river crossing act on the little stream. The Farmer's was the most memorable, as he almost nailed his bike into a wall of mud on the banks, before pulling it back on track.

As they carried on with their water sports, i stood there with a hungry stomach and a smoke in my hand...my mind drifted..

"Standing on the bank of this little stream, I look up for a while, trying to mentally trace the path that we had taken to reach the top ...i cannot see, what i am looking for... But, i know now,.. The Divine resides somewhere there on top...forever"

Back at the homestay, a late lunch at 5 PM of some cold Veg. Pulav, warm Puliyogare, oily Chattambade and curd rice brought back life into our tired bodies, and some of us decided to take a nap. I sat outside the homestay chatting with Mr. Widow, waiting for the 2 riders who had gone to visit the temple at Kollur. 

I was surprised to know that this was Mr. Widow's first ever bike ride. Also got to know he had slid and fell on the way down, and with no one around to help. Somehow, he had managed to pull himself and his bike up all by himself. His strained forearm needed some medical attention.

By 7.30PM, the party had started and by 8.30PM, The Star was fully charged and had delivered some memorable performances as he sang some old Kannada and Hindi songs, adding to the intoxication of the starry night.

The sky outside was clear and a stellar visual spread looked down upon us on a chilled night. The sleep was deep and refreshing at the end of the longest day of my life.

Day 3: (One Day of Monsoon)

The monsoon had evaded us on the first 2 days. The rains had evaded this region from the past 25 days and hence it didn't feel like a Monsoon Ride this year. I had mentioned this casually to my comrades while we were on the ranges of Kodachadri, and wished for rains. The Divine had probably heard me and blessed us with what i had asked for...probably blessed us with excess of it, on this day.

On day 3, it started drizzling by 8.30 AM. We force fed on some badly made Kharabath, cold ugly dosay and chutney, served from dirty looking vessels. By the time we started our ride by 10.30AM, the rain had grown stronger with a moderately heavy downpour and we were all forced into our rain wear.

 We were fully drenched before we completed the first 15 to 20 kms, and had to stop at a small hotel for something decent to eat. Hot Pooris fried over an old wood fueled flame, with chutney and hot saagu. This was also a part of the blessing i guessed. The cold rain and poor breakfast at the homestay, made me hungry and i ate half a dozen of those delectable Pooris, with the rain continuously pouring outside. 

With our stomachs consolidated with coffee, we slowly rumbled in the drizzle, towards Sringeri town. Our destination was to reach Sakaleshpura by evening, via Sringeri, Balehonnur, Aldur and Mudigere. The road was bumpy in the beginning, but the damp curvy bitumen roads were very inviting. We took the narrow and rough Thirthalli bypass road and headed towards Agumbe.

Once the bypass ended, we were on yet another race track.

We were hit hard by pounding monsoon rains for the the last 15 Kms to Agumbe. My knuckles were hit by blunt needles, reminding me of Day 1, during the previous year's Monsoon Ride.

We were soaked to the innermost crevices by the time we reached Agumbe and had to take a break. We warmed up at a small shop which served tender coconuts, tea, etc. 

Agumbe, the town known as the Cherrapunjee of the South, also happens to be the fictional town of Malgudi. (Of Malgudi Days tele-serial). Agumbe forests are a safe haven for the King Cobra. Several King Cobras and other species of deadly snakes are saved from human settlements, by the team of experts in Agumbe Rainforest Research Station.

The rain kept its tempo and did not subside till we were about 20 kms out of Agumbe, towards Sringeri. We reached Sringeri by 1.45 PM, with the engines running on vapours. All the beasts were fed first, and we moved into the town, for some lunch. We were as usual, hungry people, who loved feeding, when not riding.

When we were about to leave Sringeri, all the pride i had about my Bullet vanished and now i felt the words on quality issues with Royal Enfield, rudely come back to me. The bike developed a strange electrical issue. Any electrical operation like horn, light, indicator, even the brake light, if triggered ON, would cut the off power to the Fuel Pump and the engine would not fire. As advised wisely by The Saint, i unplugged the brake light wirings from the tiny sockets and continued, so that braking didn't affect the engine work. But the bike seemed to have developed its own intelligent way of extending the trouble into the electrical system, seriously hindering the engine operation.

I informed this to the group and wanted a couple of guys to stay along with me, in case of a complete disaster. The Farmer and The Saint tagged along with me, as the rest of the group headed towards Sakaleshpura. The bike finally croaked at Balehonnur, ...at around 3PM...Sadly on a sunday evening.

A mechanic checked but didn't know electrical work. He linked us up with a moody car electrical works chap. After a lot of pleading and buttering, he turned up by 4 PM. He conducted some serious diagnostics on the bike, with sparks flying each time he touched the metal parts of the bike, using a highly complicated handmade customised tool of... 3 pieces of wasted electrical wires.

".. Nothing is working Saar... one last attempt, if it works you can take it home and get it checked with a specialist. Else, i don't know what to do...what to do saar...i am a car electrical fellow.."

My heart sank, as i assisted this Electrical genius, by holding one end of the wire at the battery terminal, for his last ditch attempt to bring life back into my Bullet.

Then there was a Divine intervention (i guess). The Neutral light turned on, and the fuel pump on my 500 EFI hissed. I lifted my head to see the check engine light just turn off. The Jungle genius had done it. He used the same 3 electrical wires and created a bypass of some sort and fastened the wire to the engine guard. He humbly requested us not to mention if someone asked who did this.. (seriously, don't know why?). We paid him and were now speeding to reach Sakaleshpura by night fall. The road was fantastic with neat curves and we were in a splendid mood for racing.

We reached Sakaleshpura Planter's club by 7.15PM and it was already dark. Mr. Bolt had left the group by then, and continued riding back to Mysore due to other engagements. Every thing that we wore was spread on every possible furniture in our room along side currency notes, all the secret contents of our wallets, mobile phones, ...everything, for drying. A good hot water bath charged me up for the evening party.

We all assembled at the balcony of the beautiful bar of the Planter's club and partied with a lot of relief at the end of day. As Madira Devate trickled and eased into us,  The Guru had taken over the stage from The Star this evening. We got to hear some absolutely stomach splitting narratives from The Guru's good old days of the early and mid 90's in Bengaluru. Hilarious occurrences between The Guru and those from the Venus, The Guru and the cops and many more. The narratives gave me a clean pair of lungs, at the end of it.

A long day of curvy roads, unforgiving rains and a little bit of splendid evening sun, had ended well with a great dinner at the planter's club. This edition of the Monsoon Ride had officially ended as we all slept well.

Next day, The Star and Mr. Carbman were to start early and reach their workplace by 10AM. The rest of us planned the long way back home via Madikeri to Bengaluru, to gulp up one last measure of riding the curves in the Western Ghats.

As i finish writing this blog, ...

It dawns upon me that the risks were much greater than how they appeared, when we took them....

The dangers were as real as they could get....

The only thing that made it possible was the deep rooted desire for adventure...

Sitting amidst this chaotic city life, my mind escapes and goes back in time, to the mountains and the roads that we had passed through.

A fantastic Monsoon Ride 2015, had put us to test, on human and mechanical endurance, and it had ended safely on a victorious note.

Looking forward to 2016, ........ i wonder ....where the next Monsoon Ride will take us? 

down south? 

or will it be up North? 

or could it be the .... North east and beyond?.

Only time will tell..

SLr

Wilderness Absolute on the banks of Kaveri

Many years ago, my partner had asked me if i was scared of Ghosts. I remember telling her, " no, i don't believe in Ghosts,.. but if a wild animal like, say a, Tiger or an Elephant were to appear, i will run for my life and so should you". The conversation had ended with how unheroic i was and... etc... ;-)

Adrenaline "Explosion":

"The moonlight reaching the earth seems buffered by the monsoon clouds, creating an eerie greyish dark night. Though the monsoon rains are intermittent, a sudden gentle burst of rain drops scatter all over the river bank on which we are perched. In front of us flows the mighty Kaveri, with the unbroken sound of the cascading rapids, surrounding us in the silence of the night. A small fire burns at the edge of the bank, where the river skirts along, gently touching the firewood once in a while. Most of what is visible are the dark curvy silhouettes of the hills that stand across the river and the near by bushes and tree branches. The inner eye seems to be wide open. I am a little tense, fearing an elephant charge from behind us, or a sneaky crocodile just by my feet."

 At approx. 100 Kms from Bengaluru, Galibore is a place tucked and well hidden, in the wilderness of the Kaveri Basin. We wanted to take a quick escapade for the weekend and booked ourselves a cosy tented cottage at Jungle Lodges and Resorts, Galibore Nature Camp. Once upon a time, this camp was famous for Fishing as a sport, but now fishing has been banned. The camp sits along the river and offers the perfect place to spend hours in solitude.

We started riding by 7.30 AM from Bangalore. The breakfast left my fingers with a thin layer of fresh butter, that was plonked generously on to the hot batter, spread on a sheet of cast iron, fired up by wood and coconut shells. The burning hot Davangere Benne (Butter) Dosay, was accompanied with a simple Potato onion side dish and spicy garlic coconut chutney. Two such dosays, shallow fried in butter, switched my mood straight into Riding mode.

The planned route took us to Kanakapura, about 50 Kms from Bangalore. From here, we had to deviate left to reach a place called Sangama, where the two rivers Arkavathi and Kaveri unite and flow towards the famous Mekedatu. The road passed through a few villages and then through a very nice patch of Jungle. The last few kms to reach Sangama presented a few opportunities to swing the bike through some amazing but dangerous curves. The road coiled down, reaching the Arkavathi river banks on to the left and headed straight towards the junction, where the two rivers united.

For us, the actual ride started here. I never expected this trip to drag us into such stunning, unexpected, adrenaline packed moments. A board on the right hand side indicated the directions to Galibore Nature Camp. The distance was 9 Kms. The first few meters started off with a worn out metaled road, after which, it was just a game road taking us through the forest all the way to the camp,..

".....curving and twisting gently, heading west, upstream of river Kaveri...."

The bike would slide on the sandy road and hold on to the jutting natural rubble at its edge. We were very excited and jokingly called it our official bike safari. I guess what we had uttered was heard by mother nature, who probably did not find it funny.

As i finished taking a video of ourselves with one hand, and accelerating gently with the other, a huge mass of elephant dung was visible on the road. I casually mentioned it to my partner. Few more meters ahead, several tree branches were stripped and thrown on the sandy road. My mind was on red alert. Very calmly, i expressed my concern to my partner,

"what can we do now, if elephants are there... they are there... " ....was what she had to say ,with aplomb that there was no way we would encounter the pachyderms..... indirectly hinting at me to stop overreacting.

My mind kept going back to the elephant charges that we had encountered during our safaris in Bandipura and Kabini Forests. Normally peaceful, these gentle giants aren't very gentle with their little ones around, or when it's a Tusker with increased levels of testosterone.

We travelled for some more time and my nerves calmed a bit and the grip on the handle loosened, but only for a fraction of a second.

"The first sign of a moving trunk, about 150 meters, dead ahead on the road, under a tree. The elephant is busy stripping branches and feeding only on parts of it."

My partner was stunned as the ride came to a grinding halt. At the sight of the elephant, the halo on her head vanished.

"What do we do now?" was THE question.

I turned off the engine and we decided to wait. The forest was filled with birds chirping and frolicking and the pachyderm stood there, feeding. I saw her, (i presume the matriarch) stop feeding and look down the road at us. Immediately, i turned off the pilot lamps which were ON. She continued feeding and just when i was about to lose my patience, a miniature trunk appeared from behind her. The little head of the calf was now visible. Then came another subadult from the thicket from the left and joined the calf. They fed with a very relaxed demeanor, as time ticked for us. I decided to turn the bike half way around, and wait for some more time. Inspite of the situation we were in, deep inside, i enjoyed being there, but fear had laid its blanket on the pleasure. I kept looking all around, just in case the Bull appeared, from some other location, to take a closer look at us.

The Matriarch now started moving along the road casually, heading towards us for a few meters, before she moved to our right hand side. The distance we maintained was enough for us to make a quick escape. After all, it was we who had intruded into their territory and it would have to be us to leave.

But the pachyderms obliged, and the other two also followed the female and moved off the road. Then came the surprise. 5 more followed the line and slowly moved towards our 2 O' Clock. The last one stopped on the road, quite indecisive whether or not to follow and waited there for another 3 to 5 minutes, before largest one joined and they both walked away, into the thicket. I started the bike and waited for a while till i was sure we could quickly pass by the pachyderms and when i was sure of making it safely, we went for the dash. The pachyderms looked at us as we passed at a safe distance. My partner made the most memorable video in recent times, as i kept a look out on the road. 

My palms were wet and my head in the helmet felt more like it was in a pressure cooker.

We slowly rode over the terrain which now became rough and passed over mounds. We crossed a concrete bridge and plains with huge rocks.

"You can never guess, what could be around the next big rock or around the next curve.... or am i confusing another elephant for a rock? "

I was relieved as the Jungle Lodges board came into my field of view. We entered, met the Manager, Mr. Sunder. A humble talkative man, who was more than willing to help guests in every possible way, to ensure their comfort. Seeing the elephant video, he expressed his excited happiness at such a great sighting. Our bike safari had ended.

Adrenaline "Overwhelms":

Too much adrenaline had entered my system. We checked into the tented cottage, freshened up and sat outside, absorbing the timelessness of this place, served with cold beer. We had loads of time to just relax and i took a very refreshing nap, listening to the calls of the Grey hornbill, the Crested Serpent Eagle and the Asian Paradise Flycatcher. The lunch was heavy and fulfilling, followed by another hour and a half, spent inside a cozy, dreamless, silent sleep.

By 5 PM, we were woken up, and invited to go for the coracle ride by one of the JLR staff.

"Banal Coracle rides, ... how many times have we not done it.."...was our thought.

We politely informed him to carry on, and slept for another half hour. At that point, we were unaware what would knock us down in the near future, on Day 2.

By 6PM, we reached the open banks of the river, where chairs were being set up for the eveing barbecue and a huge bunch of dried wood was placed, touching the waterline of the river. First time i had ever seen a camp fire placed almost on water.

I spent some time making images of the flowing river and the still green banks. One of the JLR staff came over and we had a very friendly chat regarding the wildlife around the region. He mentioned that bears arrive in this season, on the opposite bank to eat the fruits (Nerale Hannu or Jamun fruit), that would have fallen off the trees. I didn't take it seriously then. As the sun vanished behind the clouds, the evening became cooler and the gusts of breeze put me at ease on the banks... for a few moments only.

"Saar, Kardi ..kardi.. (Bear.. Bear)..."

OMG, 2 bears were foraging the bank on the opposite side, feeding on the fallen fruits. A big one walked ahead followed by a smaller one. I could not believe my eyes, as the bears went behind their priceless quarry. Some guests tried to make images of the far away bears. Undisturbed by anything, the bears continued with their routine for this season and took their own time, before vanishing into the thicket. This place was really wild, with elephants, bears, birds and most importantly Crocodiles (which had eluded my watchful eyes so far). 

After the sunset, a beacon was made of wooden logs at the river's edge, and guests sat on the chairs on the bank, with minimal chatter. The barbecue had begun to smoke up with burning ember. The first round of gentle shower suddenly scattered around us. Me and my partner had placed ourselves on the opposite end, away from the barbecue corner, facing the river, as it was much more serene there. I was surprised when one of the staff members walked up to a small patch of land behind us, and lit up another bunch of firewood and made a slowly burning flame. Upon enquiry, he said..

"Elephants Saar, ... Some time ago, a tusker stood behind the barbecue counter behind the trees. When we shined a torch to see if there was something there, it charged at us. Luckily, it was a mock charge and it turned around and left."

He requested us to sit closer to the other quests. I wondered if fire at the water's edge was to keep the crocs away. We willingly obliged and moved in closer to the others, but only for a few minutes. We had to run with all the party materials in our hands as rains poured heavily. We took shelter under a tree, higher on the banks while most of the other guests were now in the dining area. Luckily, the rains ceased after some time leaving the banks empty for us. A couple walked down followed by us, and we sat there, enjoying the night. The manager joined us for some time as we spoke about his experiences in wilderness. I was intrigued as to why the other couple kept shining their powerful torch across the river. Finally they left for dinner.

It was when the vodka had kicked in well and we were to move for dinner, a JLR staff member walked down to the river's edge and sprayed his torch light onto the opposite bank. There it was, only the shining eye visible, just peaking out of the water surface from the opposite bank.

"The Crocodile"

The shining eye kicked the vodka out of my blood. It was adrenaline again which was in place. Half the float in my head vanished. It was indeed mesmerising to watch this beautiful sight, the shining eye, with the sound of the rapids adding mystery to the scene.

We had a great dinner and sat in front of our tent for some more time, absorbing the night and its sounds.

Adrenaline "Extreme":

We woke up overwhelmed by the previous night's experience on the Great Kaveri river bank and how wilderness had a magical effect on us. On the previous night, the manager insisted on not missing the coracle ride. Though we were not too keen on the slow coracle ride, we did take the Manager's words seriously and decided to leave at 7am. The road got worse as we sat in the bouncy jeep, with a carriage attached, onto which a coracle was tied.

Once we were on the river, the 3 of us including The Coracle Master, we could not blink, as the beauty of nature unfolded all around us, pristine and untouched. 

I knew it was a perfect decision to take the coracle ride. We had chosen to go upstream from the resort, and ride down the river to resort. What we did not know, was this stretch was better suited for River Rafting. The coracle travelled faster than usual and finally we hit the rapids.

When you steer a car, it turns and you know how much it will turn. Do you know how to steer a coracle? Well the coracle itself is a steering. So if you were to sit on the steering, how do you steer it? without making a turtle out of the coracle... This man was a genius at his job as he solved the labyrinth of rapids, with a single oar gripped in his deft strong hands. He told us the name given to the rapids at some places, asked us to hold on to the coracle frame tight and enjoy the ride. The coracle swung at The most awkward that angles you can imagine. To add to the swing, every time it entered a rapid, Mother Kaveri blessed me. I was almost completely wet, at the first rapid itself. Larger swings were to be mounted as we floated quickly over the waters. I was not at all prepared for this, and neither was my partner.

Again, no blood in my veins,.... only adrenaline.... clinging on to dear life were my palms without any efforts from my side. My camera was completely wet.

Though i had done river rafting several years ago, there was a very basic difference. There, we got into an inflated rubber raft to go rafting. Here, we got into a humble coracle, to go rafting. 
The Master would give out a veteran's laugh after a rough ride and parallely share his humble experience in these pristine forests as a young boy, as a youthful adult and now, as a middle aged adventurous man. My heart went out for him as he shared bits and pieces of his life with us.

A Grey Headed fish Eagle, called from somewhere far away. We were at ease mentally, yet extremely alert and active physically. Like a newborn who clings on to his mother, confident that she would not drop him, i clung on to the coracle and its Master's stories, as he steered the coracle around the rocks amidst the rapids, showing us the deadly ubiquitous whirlpools.

Atlast, we reached calmer waters and after a while, landed on the banks of the resort. I found my palms shivering due to the continuous hold it had subjected itself to, without my permission. We thanked him well for his time and skill. We headed to our tent with rejuvenated exuberance, freshened up for the day, packed and headed straight for a wonderful breakfast.

We rumbled out of the resort by 10 AM. I was extremely careful and cautious as the elephants had been sighted around the same region, previous evening by other guests and JLR staff. We finally reached Sangama, and headed uphill, towards Kanakapura, on the winding roads.

"4 days after this experience, as i write this blog, i can still feel the power that surged into my body, prepared for anything that would be thrown at me in the middle of wilderness. I guess Mother Nature has spared me there, in the forests of the kaveri basin, by only chipping in with what's needed for my imagination, to strike out a string of feelings in my heart,.. that made me feel both fear and overwhelming emotions, all in their purest form. Most importantly, i did'nt abandoned my partner and run for my life ;-)"

:-)