Whims of a few men
After much procrastination I could finally pull my soul up the cliff side and get it to start writing again.
Some people say long distance motor biking is stupid, we say it is a Zen thing, or even one of our many stupid ways of faking it. Few things come as alternatives to an endless stretch of road and a good bike. It also boosts the male ego in many ways. So we’ll take it.
Bangalore-Satyamangalam-Conoor-Mysore-Bangalore, 600kms, 36 hours.
It all started with some confusion at Arun’s but we finally found ourselves putting the rearview mirrors back on his bike early Saturday morning. He’s one of those college guy wannabes who thinks the rear view will affect aerodynamics in bumper kissing traffic. Anyway, the sun was up, kinda laughing at us that we didn’t get a head start. Finally we were off for good (after Ved returned with his phone that he’d left behind in my house).
The men:
Ved, works with Arun. Was 16 when we started, 20 when we returned.
Arun is a top class match maker who works as a part time chartered accountant.
& I went too.
The Road:
For those who’d like to experience it (please be responsible) the route was Bangalore-Maddur-Malavalli-Kollegal-Chamarajnagar-Satyamangalam-Bhavani Sagar-Mettupalyam-Ooty-Mudumalai-Mysore-Bangalore.
Bangalore to Maddur and Mysore to Bangalore is the same stretch of highway, open roads, not very interesting, mad drivers and several dhabas. This is where you make up time (tough though) that you can use along the rest of the route.
Maddur-Malavalli-Chamarajnagar :
Single lane carriageway but the roads are mostly good. Some (slightly unnerving) hard turns that surprise you. Green fields and lush paddy is a therapy for sore eyes. A few little villages on the way still retain the old world charm. Colourful houses with stout wooden pillars, with a raised platform on either side of the main door that serves as an outdoor living area, to socialize with the neighbours, play a few games of local checkers using tamarind seeds, and to sleep during hot summer nights. Village folk who observe us as we pass by, vendors selling coconut water etc.
Chamarajnagar-Satyamangalam :
Same kind of road as above, lined with more trees as you enter the forest. Colourful Gulmohar blossoms set the skies on fire. You enter into Tamilnadu, less the culture shock, eased in by little signboards in Tamil and small villages, the colourful state transport buses and the fact that most of the occasional passing vehicles are registered with TN.
The road gradually works its way up the Nilgiri foothills without making it very obvious. Your bare necks are almost forever protected under a constant canopy of trees. When it is time to come down is when it gets dramatic.
The landscape is mostly rocky; the road descends at around 24 feet every 50 meters. The engine is rev happy and very soon you see why this stretch is notoriously dangerous. The many hairpin bends are seductive and unforgiving. Seductive for those on two wheels (even then your head should be firm on your shoulders) and unforgiving like we saw, for a couple of truck drivers who must have smirked too soon as their lorries were lying sideways at two of the bends. One of them had been unfortunate at the penultimate turn.
Satyamangalam-Mettupalyam-Conoor-Ooty
Satya to Mettu is straight stretches of narrow empty road. Another stretch where your head can be pointed straight and the throttle twisted till it is sweet. Beware of the loose gravel at a few places though.
Mettupalyam to Ooty is where the hairpin turns are back at work. Climbing up hill, overtaking a long line of tourist vehicles, and often stopping to admire the breathtaking scenery of the Nilgiris. Steep drops, tropical forest, towering rocky mountain faces, towns with colonial names, this stretch is best enjoyed cold.
By now our backs were starting to hurt a bit but the hills kept us cool and the air was refreshing.
Ooty-Mysore
This can be divided into two parts, the descent and the national park. As soon as we leave Ooty the road forks into two, the lazy bus road which descends easily and the back breaker which almost falls off. The latter is definitely shorter and faster but involves a lot of braking as you descend sharply via 30 odd hairpin bends that devour your butts.
Stopping here is never quick and affirmative as the momentum builds up very fast and gravity laughs hard. Through the descent, you are so involved in making sure you turn right and not take a shorter route off the parapet/rails that you respond to your backside’s SOS only when the road is flat and feels better.
After this, is a long ride through the Mudumalai/Bandipur national parks. Thick forests with regular Bison, deer & elephant crossing. Shy peacocks blush when admired and an occasional wild cat streaks across the narrow highway. This stretch is closed during the night to protect the animals. So plan accordingly.
The machines:
This is my favourite part. One oil-cooled Pulsar 200 and another, Yamaha FZ 16, both potent commuters but I had never used either for my few long rides.
The Pulsar can breathe better and is great on straight stretches. But behaves like a pampered race horse at low speeds and corners. Really, it seems to have a mind of its own, the one that says go straight. So you need to be the lone rider who knows when it is in its moods. Then the seating, aggressive stance to go fast, but the options should have included a place to fasten your luggage (except on your back) and an angel to massage your shoulders as you fly.
Then the FZ 16, little rascal. This ride was enough to convince me to get one for myself. Is not as fast as the Pulsar, but with a good rider is not far behind as well. Nice seating position, looks like a handsome bulldog. Happy engine and the best part, it handles like a dream. It loves the bends, working through them by touching the right spots, so much that sometimes you have to shake yourself off your fantasies and then start indulging again. The 140 wide road hugger tire has good rubber to let you scrape the soles of your shoes on the road during a turn, without taking them off the foot rests. All this with a mindset of finding a parking spot. The nippy little engine behaves like a happy pony running amok in narrow European marketplaces. All smiles and hops. This was love story.
The Sun:
As summer comes to an end, the sun made it a point to say that the war is still not over. No matter how much I tried to convince it that I loved summer as much as I love another season. Looks like the rays are now an upgraded version, like a V2.5 or something, with added spikes and tan strips that tightened around exposed parts of our body like a straitjacket made of raw coir.
The Nilgiris:
Very beautiful, The stretch between Mettupalyam and Mysore Via Conoor offers splendid views of the blue hills and many places to drink tea in the rain. Good roads to ride hard and some spine chilling moments. Between Ooty and Conoor are a lot of lovely little towns that were mostly named by homesick Europeans. Lovedale, Wellington, Charing Cross and Bedford to name a few. Nice.
Between Ooty and Conoor I’d choose Conoor. And if you ask me what you can do there, I’d say take the toy train ride, really worth it, especially on the onset of the monsoon or immediately after. People in love seem to have a longer list, will include it when I learn and if appropriate.
The Mettupalyam Conoor Ooty Toy Train:
This is where I did a lot of proof reading and editing. I can go on for days trying to tell you how I felt but I didn’t want to be rude. So, it is really cute. Blue wooden coaches with big windows. Green diesel and royal blue steam locomotives, India’s only railway with a third corrugated rail in the middle for the steam traction to grip onto during steep inclines and descents. It wanders across the hills, through little towns with nice names, over viaducts and by happy faces that gape and wave as it chugs by slowly but steadily. Strongly recommended that you take a ride in this from Mettupalyam to Ooty. You will realize you are not that old after all.
Forest guards at Satyamangalam:
Were kinda awestruck that we were riding all the way from Bangalore, they clearly haven’t met the larger riding community. And were kind enough to point out that Ved looked better than Arun and me because he was a non vegetarian. Anyway they checked our riders’ license and waved us off with smiling faces.
Finally us sedentary 21st century models of primates:
When we returned, we felt like old robots frozen solid to stay in shape and keep parts from falling off.
