"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.
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.
(“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.
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.
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.
“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.
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,
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.
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
"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.
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.
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
