Dudhsagar Falls Trek, etc.

I’ve been meaning to put a lot of travelogues in here. I would start writing them in my mind after the journey is over, and in the best case, some scribbles would make way to my pocketbook, mostly on the way back on train (and this too mostly on Maveli Express, since most of my journeys originate from Mangalore) when you are really in the tired, content and retrospective mode, and invariably my laziness would always get the better of me to actually type in stuff.

 

So one of these weekends I was bit by the travel bug again, and we travelled in total about some random 1000 kilometres in three days. Documenting the whole journey in words is too much pain, especially so considering this constipated-for-words predicament that I am now perennially in, so I will recount the best part of it, which was our second day, the trek to Dudhsagar Waterfalls – partly because my travel mates had asked to do it, partly because I feel a first-hand account would be useful to people who are actually planning to visit the place (whatever be the odds that this actually comes up in a search result), and more importantly, to inspire people to experience it. The latter is too ambitious for an intention, and counts perhaps too much on how I can transfer the experience to words - I will come to this in the end.

Here is the wiki link, if you are into that sort of thing. Research, I mean.

Now, there are two main routes by which you can reach the falls from Madgaon. One is via Castle Rock, and the other one via Kulem.

The one via Castle Rock is the more popular one – Castle Rock is a small village located in Northern Karnataka, the part that shares its border with Goa. It is about 70 kms from Madgaon and I assume, 7.84 kms from Dudhsagar (DDS) Railway Station (this was the distance written at the Railway Station) - means around 9 kms from the actual falls. If my assumption about the distance is correct, this is the shorter of the two routes. You could reach Castle Rock with your own vehicle (not so sure about the buses plying between Castle Rock and Madgaon), either catch a train and alight at Dudhsagar Railway Station or choose to trek the distance to the falls by rail. There are trains plying on the route – again, not sure of them all, but you will need to make sure prior hand that it does stop at DDS. Alternatively you could make use of the many freight trains that travel in the route.

The alternate route is from Kulem Railway Station. Kulem is a small town, part of Goa, located around 40 kms from Madgaon, and around 11 kms from the falls. This is the less popular of the routes, perhaps because the distance to the falls is more or may be because that the freight trains from Kulem that pass via the falls don’t stop at DDS (since the track goes uphill). You could search for passenger trains that stop at DDS from Kulem, or rail trek the 12km to the falls.

We intended to take the shorter route, but mistook the Kulem route for the shorter one. And I swear we don’t regret it one bit, now that you think of it.

We started from Madgaon on a rainy Saturday morning, aided by google maps and navigation which I hold as inarguably Google’s second best contribution to mankind. Goa is majorly known for its beaches and churches, I felt it is much underrated as a monsoon destination, (when the North Goa literally shuts off), at least that was the impression I got based on my preconceptions as we travelled through the beautiful landscape, looking all the more beautiful when drenched in rain. 

Okay, perhaps those pictures dont justify my description of the beauty of the place but they were the ones I could manage from the backseat of a running Scorpio.

The road started getting narrower, the vegetation on either side of us more prominent and the number of people/houses on the way scantier as we neared Kulem. We finally reached a railway station which read Callem, and took it for our destination, assuming it to be a typo on Kulem, and would have started our trek from there (in which case we would have been dead from exhaustion by the time we reached the falls) but were saved by this lady who explained to us that both of these were two distinct places and that we still needed to go about 10 kms further in the direction of Vodlem in the board below to reach Kulem. The place names can be a bit confusing, because there were three places named Kulem, Callem, and Kalay in the vicinity of each other.

We finally reached Kulem, parked our vehicle, asked for directions and a couple of people appeared skeptic at our intention to rail trek the distance to the falls. “Chalkar Jayenge?!” One guy actually gave us pointers to bike to the falls for 600 bucks/person - They lead you to the base of the falls. All the people we interacted with during the journey firmly reiterated my belief in the observation I have made after all my journeys – the more farther you are from “civilization” and the hustle bustle of the towns, the deeper you go down into places, the more helpful and genuine the people are.

So, armed with a backpack consisting of food supplies (couple of packets of bread, and some biscuit packets) and around 4 litres of water, we headed out to the railway track to start the trek. We had a packet of salt and a bottle of an irritating-smelling deodorant as a precaution to leeches which we expected to find on the way. When we started the trek we found that the track passed right through a forest (part of the Bhagwan Mahaveer Sanctuary and Mollem National Park), and we weren’t really prepared to face random wild animals on the way, and even if we were to be, it was too late to retreat back then.

The route was beautiful – the monorail was flanked on both sides by pristine forest, and thankfully we encountered no wild animals on the way. It rained all the way through our trek, and we were all soaked to the skin within the first 10 minutes. The rain actually helped, since we never sweated even once, and walking on the tracks can get really weary after sometime – there was no other option but to keep to the track since except at some places there was no way on either side of the tracks to walk on. The heavy rains had created mini waterfalls out of small streams all along the way, so during most of the trek we were treated to the sound of falling water. There was also thankfully no fog along our way.

We were able to calculate the distance travelled and remaining thanks to the marker milestones that were placed by The Railways at every 200m. We occasionally encountered workers who were doing maintenance on the track, and I duly unleashed at all of them the only Kannada sentence that Multi (who had arguably picked up some basic Kannada during his PUC years at Bangalore) had helped me structure – “Dudhsagar illinde eshtu kilometre ithe?” Not that we needed to know the distance, since the markers were always there, but you know, just for the heck of it.

After a while on the way, and a couple of food breaks and rests later, we met with two guys who introduced themselves as forest officers, which we didn’t buy at first, but had to when they produced an official-looking ticket machine and gave us tickets for entering the forest. They turned out to be kind gentlemen and gave us directions. They showed us a muddy parallel road a little down below us to the left, which also led to the falls, they said, this was the motorable road that led to the base of the falls (probably the one which we would have taken if we had travelled by bike from Kulem). Travelling on the same with a car was impossible, they explained, since due to the rains the points at which you had to cross the river on the path had become a bit deep.

We continued along the trek, and came across our first of the five tunnels on the way. Contrary to what we had imagined, the tunnels had enough space for one to stand beside even if a train were to pass through them while one were inside it. This is not advisable though, because as we found out during our return, the noise level can be deafeningly high.

We passed more tunnels, and soon sighted what seemed to be like a small railway station of sorts - which means a couple of house-like structures and a board, that is. I had seen this one up while googling, and though google said the place name was Sonalem, the yellow board proclaimed “Sonalium”. Desperate, we knocked in and asked the only guy we could find there if there was any way we could get five teas? Negative, he said, and told us there was no way you could get tea anywhere in the near vicinity. We encountered a couple of batches of guys on their return journey, who were visibly dejected when we told them Kulem was at least 9 kms away.

 

We went further along, and were soon rewarded with the first glimpse of the falls. Yes, the much famed view with the bridge in the foreground, narrowly visible as a blue line in the mist - Majestic. The first of the many Masha Allah moments.  This is the best I could salvage with my phone camera during rain, and in any case, for that close yet detailed shot that one gets to see in the forward mails, you need to have an SLR cam or a decent point and shoot at the least.

 

The thought that our destination was just around the turn made us cover the last two kms in no time, and by this time we could see a lot of other people. We got through the last tunnel before the falls and there it was – a sight more spectacular than we all had imagined at all. The good monsoon had helped in no less proportion to embellish the grandeur of the falls. We all gaped at each other for a good minute, spell bound, before breaking into a war dance that would have made any aborigine proud.

The falls is multi-tiered, and the railway bridge stands across the strip of land on either side of the falls, directly facing the falls. The falls in the first tier, just near to the railway bridge, causes the water to hit, explodes into a million droplets and hits you as a travelling aerial wave that soaks you.
I cannot describe enough the feeling when you stand on the bridge, facing the falls, and trying hard to catch a glimpse of the falls in between the spraying of the water droplets. Arms spread sideways, eyes closed, I stood, humbled and let myself the moment sink in. The droplets hit me wave after wave drenching me all over again and again, and it was as though they washed out all  the thoughts inside you one after the other like from top of a stack, with a growing sense of content, and all that was left was the basic underneath sensation that I was alive. And you realize how fulfilling a feeling it is. You are alive, you are experiencing that moment, and that is enough to be thankful for.

I am sure many people felt the same as me, because the place seemed to bond people in a strange way. On top of the bridge every random stranger you met exchanged smiles with you; maybe euphoria does that to people. And so did all the passengers of the Amaravati Express which happened to pass through while we were on the bridge. 
We spent around half an hour on the bridge, and then retreated to this small establishment where they sold tea and some assorted snacks. Tea, finally! After some more time of gazing at the falls from the other side of the bridge, we decided it was time to leave. We waited near the tunnel for some time for any freight trains going in the direction of Kulem to pass through, but none came. A guy who looked like he belonged to the place told us there was a train at 4:30 PM to Kulem, and we walked in the direction of DDS Railway Station. There was a very big crowd already gathered on the railway station for boarding the Goa Express, which was the last train to Castle Rock. The Station Master told us there were no train going in the direction of Kulem at 4:30, and that though freight trains did ply between in the route, he would not be able to guarantee when and if one would come at all (since they doesn’t follow a time table), and that it would be good for us to board this last train and either
- Alight at Castle Rock and ride our own luck in trying to get a taxi and then go via road to Kulem (around 35 kms)
- Alight at Londa station, a fairly big town, about an hour’s journey on train, and then get a taxi to return to Kulem ( around 60 kms)

In short, we were very much screwed. The Goa Express had only a stop time of about 2 minutes at the station, and there were already a lot of people swarming around. Walking back all the way was an option, but we were too tired for it. Also, thick fog was settling in, the route would be pitch-dark, and we didn’t know what else expected us on the route during night. A worker at the station guaranteed us there would be freight trains plying in the direction of Kulem, and another passenger who was a local concurred. So when Goa Express did finally come at around 5:30 we were too confused and undecided to take the trouble to board the train amongst all the din.
The Goa Express left, and by some miracle scooped up everyone but us on the station, all within about two minutes or so. We were pretty much the only ones left at the station then, and dejectedly walked to the signal board just after DDS Station where we all sat, huddled inside one umbrella, waiting for the miracle train to appear, even considering spending the night there in the open at that sequestered place. After waiting for a long time, the signal turned green, and to our dismay a freight train passed again in the direction of Castle Rock. We snapped, and decided to walk back all the way, come what may. When we passed the DDS station again, we again saw the worker guy who advised us to wait, and he strongly advised us against crossing the forest at the time, and guaranteed that a train would come sooner or later. Confused again and now resigning ourselves to whatever that may come in the way, we waited at the railway station for about 15 minutes, when the station master suddenly came and announced that he was expecting a freight train in the direction of Kulem in another 5 minutes.
 

Elated, and with new found strength in our legs, we ran for our lives to the signal board again. And there it was, the light beam, and I can think of only less moments of being more overjoyed than then.  We waved frantically to the engine driver (who was about to stop at the station anyways), and when he stopped, out of sheer relief I wanted to go inside his cabin and hug him, er.., in a non-homosexual way, of course. Some guys already aboard the train advised us to wait for the guard’s cabin to arrive, where in there may be space for everyone to stand but we were in no position to wait, and we all climbed up the engine cabin, and stood in the narrow walking space to the cabin. It was about 7:30 PM, and our miracle train had finally arrived.
The train stopped for a good 5 minutes at the station, and then started moving very slowly, and this was another new experience to pin on to the day’s adventure. It was getting dark, and from the train I realized how stupid it would have been had we decided to walk the way back. The only light was the flickering of hundreds of fireflies from in between the trees. The train moved very slowly, and I wished it had arrived a bit earlier, so that we could have enjoyed the ride and would have had a better view in the daylight. We reached Kulem at around 8:30, and reached our room in Madgaon at 10.

Later the next day, on the way to Jog Falls, while we were relishing the previous day’s experience in the car, while opining about how to best describe the experience to a third person, Faji said what I believe is the best way to describe it, which is that “There is no way to describe it. The best you can say to someone is to pack your bags, go and experience it for yourself. Its worth it.”
 

That is what I have to say too. It’s not just my handicap in expressing something completely to words, but I believe even the best documenter would advise you the same. Choose a monsoon time; take your backpack and go. Railtrek from Kulem, experience the falls, and if you are lucky, get stranded too on your way back.

09.05.2012

Nothing like travelling with people with whom you can be your full psychotic self.

I intended to make a boring travelogue, but it ends up in just this picture, one of the best moments of our journey.
(Apart from when Kompany scored that header, of course ;) )

A lot of moments in life have to be savoured and not read about. There is only so much you can transfer on to words.

Thanks guys.
It was a privilege.

15.4.2012

It  was the Vishu weekend, and thanks to lack of planning I had no tickets nor prospects of getting them. I was not feeling particularly excited about the usual weekend with bouts of lethargy attacks.  A momentary impulse in the morning led me into thinking this over. Some googling was done, a couple of enquiries were made and that was it.

I left office at 3:30, and started from home at 4. Preparational stunts were minimal, so most of the stuff that happened to be on my bed made their way into the bag. Thankfully I didn’t forget to take the spare batteries for the cam and the phone charger. Close to 15 minutes were lost at the petrol bunk near SEZ waiting in vain for someone to come and check up the air pressure in my bike tyres. I decided it could wait, and filled my tank to levels that it reaches on rare occasions like these, from the bunk just after the toll point after the Aakkulam Bridge.

I don’t know if this had to do with the occasion of a Vishu Weekend, but my initial 20-25 kms were a wretch. Damned traffic that stretched my patience to some very tight corners.  For a long stretch I kept chasing asses of huge trucks and KSRTC buses, and whenever I passed them, they would fart their big hot black smoke upon me. I stopped for prayer at some place near Neyyattinkara, and filed an extra petition heavenward for a reduced traffic on my way forward.

The weather was gloomy, just as per I'd have wished it to be, as the rain clouds had loomed over since afternoon. I would have preferred them to remain so but they did precipitate a bit later, and I promptly pulled over at a place called Kottaamam – no heroics against nature. Thankfully, it didn’t grow into the downpour as I had pessimistically anticipated, but resulted only in a small drizzle. Nothing could have been more helpful, since it cooled the air big time. I rode without the helmet for a while. The lighting was quite poor, and I was eager to avoid driving at night, so I decided my tea could wait till Nagercoil.

The tyre air pressure got fixed at a huge petrol bunk at Kuttivilai. I rode on, and the imagery on both sides of me started getting picturesque as I started getting close to Nagercoil. Small hillocks appeared in the background, always there, as in a RoadRash game.

[Note: Click on the pictures to enlarge.]

 There was this place, where they had like acres of banana cultivation on both sides where I stopped to take a good look and to stretch my back.

The road, which was quite good generally, save for a small stretch right after the border, started getting a little less smooth as I closed on Nagercoil Town.

The pit stop for tea never happened, as I went on, after a small ATM break. I reached Kanyakumari without any major hassles at about 6:45 PM. I did miss the sunset, and I hadn’t expected not to, but I stopped in the stretch of the very beautiful road of about 5 kms just before reaching Kanyakumari to see the sky lined hues of red, with the sun already sunk in to its retreat. I did take a picture, but it turned out to be blurred.

The big highway leads you to a T Junction, from where you have to take a left to reach the Kanyakumari Junction.  (ജങ്ക്ഷന്‍ ഇല്ലാത്ത നാടുണ്ടോ?).  I took a left and headed randomly into a small downward road where I could see a lot of lodges and hotels. Just as I descended and started moving slowly I was accosted by two guys saying “Room?”. Now, to tell you a fact I learnt from my experience. It is VERY hard to get lodging in Kanyakumari if you’re all by yourself and looking for a single room. The reason being that there were some suicide cases reported of late, and no boarder was willing to take a risk. Why not poison yourself at home, I ask. So I had enquired at a couple of hotels on the way by myself but they were not even ready to consider my case when they see me alone. So one of these guys whom I was speaking about walked with me to a hotel and asked for room, which was immediately rejected. He went to the next one, and made a case for me saying, “Bike! He came on a bike!”.  Cool. Apparently I’m not from the Suicide Gang. I’m just a random traveler.  I looked the part too. Dusty jacket, haggard face, disheveled hair, and tired eyes.  

“I need some ID”, the inn-keeper said.

I showed him my driving license.

“From Kerala?”

“Yes”.

“Whats the purpose of your visit?”

Man, who am I ? ShahRukh Khan at an American Airport?

“Sightseeing”

“I need to make a call to your home”

“Yeah, I am a seven year old kid”. Only I didn’t say that loud.

“Please dial this number”, says he pointing to the number in my license.

Be Damned! This will spill the beans. I had really no option other than that though.  I made the call home, summarized my situation to Mom who grew more confused with each passing second, and gave the phone to the guy.

“Rameez Rahman. Who are this guy to you?”

“Ok. Is it ok to give him a room here for stay?”

That was it. There were a lot of questions from the other end when he handed the phone back to me. I said I’d call later and cut the call. I tipped the guy who led me to the inn, and they gave me the key.

The room was on the first floor, and was quite nice, except that it was very hot inside. There was a double bed, a cupboard, attached bathroom (with running water, a luxury) and a TV.

I was about to go out from the room after Magrib, when I got the expected call from Dad. He freaked out, and I remained silent.

I went out after that, headed to the main market, and was looking for some place to park my bike, and ran straight into two policemen. Once again I had to take out my license, and then they made me blow into their nose to prove I was sober and they let me go.

Most of the shops displayed handicrafts, spices, and showpieces made out of shells and the like. I roamed about carelessly, stood for sometime before a stage just in front of the temple where a family was singing songs on the deity. My sister called then, and asked who was crying in the background.

I made the worst choice for a restaurant to have dinner after a lot of searching, as it turned out. Please avoid Sangamam Restaurant a miss at any costs – overpriced, tasteless food. Pathetic reason for a restaurant.

I retreated back to my room, watched 3 overs of the IPL Match after prayer and got sick of it. I took out the Vikram Seth travelogue, and slept sometime afterward. When I woke up at around 1, I heard shouts from the outside. They were a couple of guys shouting in hindi, frustrated and angry at the fact they weren’t given a room to stay anywhere. The guy who had helped me was seen with them, trying to calm them down. The thought of people who had ended their lives (perhaps in the same room?) wasn’t very comforting, so I had a disturbed sleep. The couple of times I woke up, I looked through the window to check if my bike was there.

I woke up at 5, and felt very energetic after the prayer, so I ventured out. It was still dark, but there were a lot of people on the streets, heading towards the temple I suppose. Some coffee shops were up and running, and I had a hot coffee. I walked around a bit, but it was another half an hour more for the spectacle to begin, so I went back to room. Damn I slept for about 35 minutes, and it was very much crowded when I reached the place to watch the sun wake up.

It was beautiful. And majestic. The sky kept changing its hues slowly, and looked like an artist’s palette. The Sun started to push outside, slowly and mightily over what was the confluence of the 3 major water bodies – Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal and The Indian Ocean. I stood along the people, spellbound, even forgetting to take a picture until when it was almost full up in the horizon.

I rode along to some distance and reached a point at some height from the sea, where there wasn’t any crowd, but had the full view of the beautiful calm ocean. If the sight of that doesn’t humble you, then I don’t know what else does. I sat there for almost an hour.

Beautiful, eh?

The Light House

The Vivekananda Rock (left) and the Statue of Poet Thiruvalluvar

I returned to the main junction again, where a crazy queue had already been formed by crowd for getting into the ferry to take them to the Vivekananda Rock. That wasn’t in my plans anyways, so I started walking again. The shops were opening, but there was a milling crowd already on the streets – many of them taking the plunge into the sea at the other end, near the Gandhi Memorial. The Vivekananda Rock and the Thiruvalluvar Statue stood tall, basking in the morning sun. The sun was against me, so getting properly lighted pictures of the sea was very hard. (Ok, call it a lame excuse for my poor pictures.)

I went back to the room, had a bath and checked out from the room. As I handed the keys over, there was the guy who verified the amount of my suicidal tendencies (or the lack of it) yesterday.

“Good morning”, he smiled.

“Morning. Alive, you see”, I said.

He was apologetic and said that just one case could give them a lot of pain in the behind for a long time, that’s why they were taking no risks. I thanked him anyways for taking me in, and set off. I had food from the small vegetarian outlet right opposite to the mistake I made the day before. Tasty stuff.

My Tamil, very broken one at that though, was greatly helpful in asking for directions and for general queries. I headed to a small fort nearby Kanyakumari, called Vattakottai, about 6 kms from it. I passed through a couple of small villages, and reached the place. It was around 10:30 and the Sun was about to get to right above my head. There was no entry fee, and I went in. Here’s the wiki link for more info. What you see in the centre in the below pic, is a tank of water which, as the board outside the fort says, "supplied perennial water for defense personnel".

There’s an end of the fort that extends itself above the sea. This point gave me one of the most beautiful views of the sea I had seen in my life. I bet you the water seemed turquoise blue as it hit the shores, like you see in Maldives Wallpapers. I cant describe them well to express the effect, so I throw in a couple of pics.

I wished to stay longer there, but it was getting more hotter upon the top, so I had to retreat. For a more detailed account, please do read this.

I set off again, reached Kanyakumari once again, and started my return journey, very slowly. I had to enjoy the ride before the traffic became too crazy. 

The heat was bearable, the dust wasn’t. I masked myself with my towel at a point, and rode on. A couple of stops later, at vendors selling tender coconut under shade, I started getting the crazy traffic I had anticipated, and then there wasn’t any stops and I rode on, avoiding the saddlesore and as I neared the Trivandrum City, the traffic became unbearable. I reached Trivandrum City at around 1:30, and headed off to Black Pepper for lunch. I assume I were quite a sight after the journey since the waiter flinched a bit.

At the end of it, when I turned the machine off, the trip meter read 245 kms. It was sad, as I had miserably failed in the endurance test.

I am almost as much as tired as then from non-stop typing for now.

That’s all.

11.04.2012

A snap, slightly, or maybe even by a bigger magnitude, adulterated by post processing (for the better or worst, you decide) by me, taken at some place in between the Alappuzha - Kollam Road.
We were lazing along, it was about sunset, when we passed a strip of road which lay so adjacent to the sea (around 50-100 metres from it) so that you feel you're driving across a shore. We looked at each other, and instinctively, I pulled over, and we went on to imbibe in the sunset. A sense of calmness swept over and overwhelmed us, and as I stood on the wall of rocks, against the wind, one of my favourite lines by Ernesto Guevara resonated in my head.

..we would look out over the immense sea, full of white flecked and green reflections, the two of us leaning side by side on the railing, each of us far away, flying in his own aircraft to the stratospheric regions of his own dreams..

Rahul was on a small road trip from Calicut to Trivandrum which would amount to some 400 odd kilometres, and I joined from my home, where he stopped for a small breakfast. We kept to the coastal route, Calicut - Ponnani - Cochin - Alappuzha - Kollam - Trivandrum.

The only resolution was that there would be no race against time or no deadline set to reach our destination. We allowed ourselves to be distracted easily, resulting in us giving in many a times to the lure of signboards from the Kerala Tourism Department - Cherai Beach and Varkala for example. There were a lot of pit stops, and the prickly summer heat didn't help either. What helped the cause were some great music, stretch of very good roads, sunday traffic, and discussions, from football and movies to the subject we were experts on in our own right - our lives, and silence.

Oh, and I am separately mentioning Google Maps. Its a gift to mankind.

Quite contrary to my presumptions, most of the road we covered turned out to be very good. If you ask me to pick up the best stretch it would be Ernakulam - Alappuzha.

Sheer bliss!

Also, there were a lot of milestones and boards with directions put all along the route and in places where their placing makes sense, and these help you a LOT.

Here's Rahul, with his hard earned coffee from a roadside shack near Alappuzha.

He says hi.

 

11.09.2010

Disclaimer: Looo………ng Post after an even loo………..nger time.

There have been times when I think I’ve gotta thank the ‘mundane-ness’ associated with life at those particular points of time. Simple reason being that I think of taking a break and of ways of escapade. I’ve found that such times rekindle the wanderlust we’ve deliberately put in a hibernation mode inside ourselves.
Not that my training stint of eventful 7 months at the world’s largest corporate university at Mysore was a bore or anything (it was far from that), but during the Technology Specific Training period of our training, towards the last stages, after a string of particularly draining modules and hands-ons, we felt too jaded and it was Nithin who suggested the best way to recharge ourselves – an adventure.
Thus we planned, with me a bit apprehensive about the planning part, since from my experience – limited and therefore handicapped it is though- I’ve come to see that planned ones, the ones with a strict itinerary are less fulfilling than the ones which are being set out on just like that, on an impulse. But I was relieved as we faced many obstacles while planning - that’s a good omen. That Ram would accompany us we took for granted, but Thomas was the doubtful one. He was one after our own heart, crazier than us about exploring, but since it was his compre weekend, (for the uninitiated, the Compre is basically a test, the outcome of which decides if one stays in the company or not) he had to drop out.

The destination wasn’t decided as such, and I consulted Nadil, colleague and biker . When I mentioned 100km, he suggested Shivanasamudra Falls. He assured a good ride, but Nithin wouldn’t even hear of such a ‘walkable distance’. So, ultimately, Ootacamund was zeroed in. I consulted Nadil the second time, and received a bigger thumbs up, and that was that. On D-Day, after I got to see what it is like out there at 4:00 AM in the dawn for the first time after coming to Mysore, we loaded our backpacks and got past the campus gates by 5:00 AM, on the two machines we got – the Bajaj Pulsar 150cc and the Bajaj Avenger. We set off, first through the ring road that led to the Mysore-Ooty road, aided by the directions from three joggers, numerous signboards and an old guy sitting on a milestone with his goat, who vaguely remembered me of the man whom I had pictured of the old king who meets Santiago in the ‘Alchemist’ :) ( Talking of ring roads and signboards – one among the many things that the ministers and Govt of my state can learn from their northern neighbours, if at all they get some time to themselves in between the perpetual fighting, conferences and thozhuthilkuthal – planned development of a city.) I had an uncertain route map in mind then which looked like

Infy Campus –> Nanjangud –> Gundlupet –> Bandipur –> Gudalloor -> Ooty

The ring roads were pretty good and wide, and we had the whole 4 tracks to ourselves. But the one to Nanjangud reminded me again a bit of our own state – there were a lot of potholes. I said only a ‘bit’ because they were afterall, only potholes and not trenches in which a ship can comfortably anchor, as in Kerala :). After we made some 20 or more kms, Ram said he heard a rambling sort of noise from his engine and we had our first pit stop, at the Kerala ‘Stale’ Restaurant – the food was nice, though – and set off again.
We were moving towards Gundlupet, and I’d already got the feeling of having left civilization far behind, for the whole stretch of land we were moving through was sparsely or not populated at all, and all we could see were fields stretching out endlessly on both sides, in various stages of cultivation- some just sown, ploughed and some in full bloom, with sunflowers, thousands of them, a feast for the eyes. By the time, the travel bug had caught on, and I felt that incredible sense of freedom seeping through as the fresh air hit me as we moved on, one pit stop and some snaps later.

By about 8:30 or so in the morning we had moved past Gundlupet, and entered the route to Bandipur. We found ourselves moving through small villages – villages in their purest sense- a very rustic and austere setting. We had a brief pit stop there too, in one of those thatched-roof sheds. A few snaps, and we finally entered the limits of the Bandipur National Park.

I was riding the Pulsar–150 since our kicking off, and by this time I found myself in slight discomfort, with my wrists and forearm aching, my hips sort of cramped and my back also hinting signs of weariness due to my posture. I thought it would be the distance, and thought a pit stop and loosening myself by stretching a bit would help, but I was amazed as to why Pumbu didn’t even show a trace of anything. He suggested that we switch our machines, finally winning in persuading me to try the Avenger ( something which he regretted later ) I was quite apprehensive about riding this one, because I hadn’t ever ridden a bike of this segment, and was again doubtful if I would be able to handle it, with my six packs and all. But there was no harm in trying, and I could always switch after 5 minutes, I thought. Only that the 5 minutes extended to 45. : ) I was totally hooked within just about 5 minutes of mounting on the thing. Awesome! The easy sitting posture, just like you are about to read a newspaper or something, which gave minimal strain to your back and the body as a whole, the smoothness, the sturdiness, the stability… I am not getting into the technical specifications, because I am pretty weak or truth be told, totally ignorant in that area, so what I’ve scribbled is what I felt. I had always wondered earlier why people had a thing for these costly, weird-looking cruiser bikes, and I now totally got it. I mean, for very very short trips like the one we undertook you can adjust with a bike like the Pulsar, but for serious touring you need to have a cruiser bike, if you plan to do things like returning home and all. I got to feel the difference very pronounced later on our upward journey to Ootacamund – the stability that the Avenger displayed while negotiating upward, downward as well as normal curves and turns, was simply too cool. You could almost do with the curve without having to change the gear at all. There was but, the difference in power for both the engines, still…

So we entered the Bandipur National Park limits and Pumbu set the speed limit to 60. When he sensed the slightest breach of conduct from me he would come par and reprimand. And who was in a hurry?
Our path was now flanked by dense, wild forest in all its virgin beauty, on both sides, the air and the whole ambience pure and cool. The only glitch was the innumerable road bumps they had put on the way, as a speed control measure. Our sightings on the way counted to a couple of elephants, some wild boars, one peacock, deers, and monkeys, lots of them. And it was a pleasure indeed to watch them in full freedom, unrestrained, enjoying themselves, unlike in zoos, and giving us the what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here-dude look. We stopped at the reception centre of the national park for some time, but resumed shortly afterward as we saw our bikes about to be taken by taken by a horde of monkeys into custody.

There was a checkpost and a bridge where Bandipur National Park limits ended, and we crossed the Tamil Nadu border and entered directly into the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve. We had zero sightings on the way here, and was thankful for that too, as we weren’t actually prepared to greet a couple of tigers on the way.

Now, there were actually two routes from this point onwards to our destination. One via Gudalloor – the longer one, and the other one which we came to know only later, the riskier and shorter one which would actually cut short the distance by about 30 – 35 kms, steeper, with 36 hairpin turns. Yes, you read it right! 36 hairpin turns!! Nadil had also mentioned about this route, but I forgot where to take the diversion. So we headed for Gudalloor, and just after we had left Gudalloor town, there was this small check post where I was stopped by a policeman. He was also headed for Ooty and could we offer him a lift? I was more than happy to help ( as if I had a choice), and he joined us.

By then it was already about noon time, but as we climbed up the altitude through the beautiful, lush forests of eucalyptus, silver oak and god-knows-what, it was getting quite cold, and there was a slight drizzle as well.

Thus our timing proved to be perfect since we could were able to evade driving at that time under the sun in the highways. The police guy, Ravi Sir as he will be called henceforth, turned out to be quite a good guy, too good to be a policeman, actually, very genial and sincere. He switched to his broken Malayalam as I started conversing to him in my ‘Tamil’. : )
We took a small break at a town-sort of thing. Not town in the literary sense, it was just a conglomeration of some shops and a few houses, and there was this small tea-shop. I tell you, there’s nothing like sipping hot, steaming coffee (and a cigarette puff, according to Ram and Pumbu) in that chilling and pure weather. It did rejuvenate us a lot physically. I earned my first glare from Ravi Sir, when I reached out for my purse to settle the bill. “On me”, he commanded, and that was that. It was a beautiful setting there – some stretch of plain grasslands, a small lake meandering through, some donkeys grazing idly and to complete the picture, the mighty and lofty Nilgiris in the backdrop. We switched bikes, and then set off, the temperature getting lower as we ascended. Pumbu was hit the most, as he chose not to put on his jacket. Much more macho. At about 12;30 we reached entered Ootacamund, and headed straight to the Police Headquarters there. Ravi Sir introduced us to all the tough guys out there, - “namma pasanga thaan… ” He bought us food again, dialed a few numbers and found us cheap and good accommodation too. And again, as a parting note, he told, “Enna prachna irunthalum yen numberkitte oru call pothum ok” The MAN.! I decided that my perceptions about policemen needed a revision. He called us a couple of times again afterwards, just to check if accommodation was fine, everything was alright, etc… He was like we had just saved his daughter from drowning or something. The MAN!

We found our accommodation at the Lower Bazaar, overlooking the bus stand and the race course, a lodge run by malayalees, quite cosy and warm, and was more than what we would have settled for. Again, we were given the privilege of Ravi Sir’s “pasanga”. We parked the machines, and set out on a walk to find out all the cheap and good eating joints, which I must say, are a lot of them, but lacked variety of food. It was the quintessential Tamil Nadu menu everywhere – Dosas, idli, vada and the like, or we looked at the wrong places. I said we were talking about cheap joints. How typically us. :)

After a while, we thought we’d take our machines for a stroll in the town, and we found ourselves in front of the Botanical Garden, crazily crowded like hell as usual. Still, we did promenade a bit around there, for some snaps. There were some 3 or 4 options for us after that, but found them quite far from our point, and finally fixed on Doddabeta. I had a small plan of retreating to Conoor from there, but then decided that Conoor deserved at least a day more. The Doddabeta Peak, the highest peak of the Nilgiris, was about 8 kms from the main town, a narrow road that spiralled upward. Doddabeta reminded me of the last time I was there, with X3KnZ, and felt greatly nostalgic. The view was breathtaking, and we had another coffee while marvelling at it. Our snap session was interrupted by a guy who shooed us away saying it was the closing time and all. We returned, at a very leisurely pace, and stopped at one of the sweet shops, bagged some home made chocolates which had tempted us on our way, and headed for room.

The night prowlers we are, we went out for dinner quite late, and while returning, we took many detours into the squalid alleys, sub-alleys and sub-sub-alleys of the street. It was fun walking along those lanes, and there was a Subramanyapuram look and feel to the whole street.

We hadn’t planned anything for the next day, actually, and it was decided that we’ll return by 10 in the morning itself, since we felt that the journey was more exciting than the destination. So, after thankfully declining Ravi Sir’s invite to the Shooting Medu, we set off, with an even lower speed limit set by pumbu. I don’t want to repeat what I described about the road and the drive. Killing landscape. All I can say is, in a Jim Carry-ish way, B.E.A.utiful.

There were more frequent pit stops, and snap sessions, and we resumed after a heavy lunch at a malayalee-run (Yeah, we’re there everywhere! I doubt if there is actually some truth afterall, in that old joke about Neil Armstrong finding a Nair’s tea shop after landing in Moon) hotel at Gudalloor, where Nithin and Ram got to eat fish to their heart’s content, and we stopped again at Bandipur National Park. We had a small tour around this time, and met a REAL biker on his way, on a machine that reminded me of the ‘La Poderosa’ of Alberto Granado in the Motorcycle Diaries. We rested there for refreshments, and after some more snaps later, we were off again, to Mysore. There was a slight glitch this time, as by the time we reached outside the National Park limits to the deserted highway, it was around 3 or so, and the sun was still blazing. Thus we had our most tiring stretch of about 20-25 kms, which was only helped by occasional breaks where we found coconut vendors.
It was about 5 in the evening that we finally reached the campus, refreshingly exhausted, charged and at peace with ourselves.

It’s been more than a month since this small adventure, but I still relish every bit of it, and it gave me immense pleasure to see that this route (Bangalore - Ootacamund) selected as one among India’s best 5 roads for biking by the bikers’ bible in the country, the BIKE magazine in its July edition. There was another dream destination of mine too in the list – the Dil Chahta Hai inspired Mumbai-Goa. Only I need a convertible Mercedes, truckloads of money and time. :)

Strongly recommended for all fake, wannabe adventurers like me, and the rest.

PS: I am also unhappy at the way my so-called blog is becoming one sick journal.

Sigh.


So, see you when I see you next, which I also pray not to be longer.

- r a m z