Motorcycling – Page 4 – yonder blue mountain…

Coorged…(as opposed to Leh’d)

January 29, 2017January 30, 2017atullakraLeave a comment

2013 was our year of rides. I did many short rides through the year, most of them with my group Enfield Explorers, and two long rides with my wife and brother in law, also a keen motorcyclist. Our ride to Coorg, around Easter Weekend, turned out brilliant. The weather was good and our place of stay, beautiful- but on this particular trip, it was the motorcycle friendly, smooth roads with lots of twisties that were particularly awesome. Add some really intense, flavoursome coffee to the experience, and one comes back completely ‘Coorged’. 🙂

Moto One- Royal Enfield Classic 500 EFI- Photo Credit-http://tusharekka.com

Moto Two-Honda CBR250R-Photo Credit-http://tusharekka.com

The Motorcycles…

The motorcycles could not have been more different- one carried the burden of decades of nostalgic tradition on its shoulders (besides my wife, me and luggage) and was out to prove its touring friendly nature with a new UCE engine. The other was a quarter litre sibling of cutting edge, modern machines that promised performance and hassle free touring for years to come. One was all metal, a remnant from the realm of ancients, with retro dials and spoked wheels, flaunting an incomplete electronic fuel injection circuit in the name of high tech gadgetry. The other was a fully faired, shiny red crotch rocket loaded up with fancy instrumentation, EFI, dual disk brakes, ABS and a whole lot of fibre. Once out on the road however, both machines stuck a chord with their respective riders. My wife was happier on the Classic, thanks to the comfy seat and some back support she got from the tail bag. My brother in law enjoyed the smooth mill and great handling- he had just finished the running in period on the bike-so the trip was an opportunity to open up the engine a little. I really enjoyed the torque from that half litre single-riding two up with luggage was a breeze. Holding a straight line without vibrations numbing my hands at 120kms per hour, wasn’t.

The road to Coorg…

is paved…

with great labour…

and good intentions.

The Roads…

I must say this at the outset- this was 4 years ago, lest you go check up on me- the road conditi0n is no longer the same. Having said that, the roads, circa 2013, freshly laid or resurfaced, took the cake. The stretch from Mysore to Coorg especially, was heavenly. Gorgeous two lane blacktop flanked by rolling coffee plantations and tall Silveroak, Sapota, Eucalyptus pine and other beautiful trees. There was little or no traffic, and the twisties were wide enough to power through without the need to lose speed. Motorcycle Nirvana. All hail the State Roadways Division.

Coorged — View from the cockpit 01-Approaching Kushalnagar

DCIM100GOPRO — Yours truly loving the bends

dscn0424 — Short breaks are important on long rides

dscn0403 — Riders banter on the pros and cons of two different touring machines

The Ride

The ride to Coorg was my first long ride on a motorcycle in South India. I had driven to Coorg twice before, but for both my wife and me, riding down was a whole new experience. The ride in was particularly good, we started early morning and reached Coorg by noon- with the weather playing its part. The next few days were spent pottering around Madikeri and Bylakupe and visiting the Elephant Camp at Dubare. The motorcycles proved indispensable, and helped us explore some areas off the tourist trail as well. Apart from the ride itself, the fun part was also planning the ride as a family- sorting out stuff to pack in saddle bags, gearing up, talking my wife out of carrying too many items of personal use (the hardest part), and establishing road rules with regard to loo breaks, hand signals and points of re-group in case we lose each other en-route. All in all it was a fantastic ride and a great memory- one I hope to revisit this year, on the Himalayan.

Republic Day Ride

January 27, 2017January 27, 2017atullakraLeave a comment

Republic Day 2017, marked the beginning of rides for the year, with a short half day ride to Kolar and back. I was joined by my brother in law on a CBR 250R and my cousin on another Royal Enfield Himalayan.

The ride plan had been in the making for Kabini, with the idea of a wander round this beautiful body of water, as indicated in the map below. Now I’ve been to Kabini one too many times, but always in a car. On every visit, I have wanted to re-visit the place on a motorcycle. Unfortunately, the ride plan fizzled out as many of the riders in my riding group dropped out. We decided to make it a family affair, and head somewhere closer. Kabini, remains on the to-do list…for the next ride.

screen-shot-2017-01-23-at-12-11-23-am — Kabini Reservoir- ride around…

Sometimes, all you need to do, is get out of the city, take a beaten path into the hills and thank your stars for living in this moment.

From the Archives_Make life a ride_BMW Motorrad

January 8, 2017January 8, 2017atullakraLeave a comment

Digging around for a file in the back up from my old computer, I found these. My collection of brilliant BMW Motorrad advertisements, downloaded when just published at the time. To this day, I have not found any ads that capture the spirit of motorcycling in such a soul stirring way. One look might make you want to drop everything and head out on a ride! Enjoy!

Nothing like two soulmates on two wheels.

And I’m sure most of us who ride to work, have felt this one day or the other.

longway-round — And then, these two blokes came along. The rest, as they say, is history.

By the cold light of the moon

January 8, 2017January 8, 2017atullakraLeave a comment

As the city slumbers
We roam its streets
Whitewalkers in the dead of night
Pale shadows who drift at the speed of light
Around dying embers we try to be warm
And keep on riding
Till the break of dawn.

My riding buddy is a relative- it runs in the family

Crossed 4500km-the engine is one smooth mill now

All the gear, all the time.

September 20, 2016September 24, 2016atullakraLeave a comment

On a ride out to Melukote, I experienced a first. They say that nothing ever quite prepares you for what you may encounter, when you ride a motorcycle in India. Well, I’m as Indian as the Indian next door, so I was inclined to believe, what ever Incredible India throws at me, I should be able to acknowledge, accept (as the Indian way of life) and move on. This one was a first though. It happened in a matter of seconds- I am passing some fields on my right and out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of white- something whizzes past my visor, a fleeting glimpse of feathers, a faint scratch on my visor, a faraway shriek and its gone. I gather my senses and what’s left of my wits and manage to stop. I had missed being bird-hit. From a heron, by the looks of it…and by a whisker. Beat that. In all my years of riding motorcycles, I had not imagined a scenario like this. I mean pilots get bird hit man, not motorcyclists!

A friend recounts an even more bizarre story- he is on his daily commute, he is approaching a turn he goes through every day. As he leans into the corner, on this sparsely trafficked road, he sees a sheet of paper flying in a gust of wind, and its about to land in front of him. It’s a little late to alter his line of approach, and in a snapshot he thinks, its only a piece of paper. What happens next, I guess, should unfold in slow motion. The front wheel misses the paper by a margin, the paper touches ground, the rear wheel, slides over the sheet, which is now also sliding across the road surface- some strange science enables loss of traction, and the ride and the rider are sprawled in a heap. And I thought the worst damage a piece of paper could do was cut your finger!

It’s instances like these- the ones more out of the ordinary, that make me value riding gear. Over the years I have tried to develop the habit of using ‘all the gear all the time’. If I don’t have my helmet, gloves, boots and riding jacket on, I feel strangely inadequate- like I’ve stepped out of my house in a suit without wearing socks. A little touring experience and more than 12 years of commuting on two wheels has taught me one thing- 9 times out of 10, you have already hit the brakes, before you fall. You have either wholly avoided the obstacle, or have managed to stop while also hitting the obstacle. In both cases, a fall is mostly inevitable. It is at this moment, as you let go of your beloved machine, and brace yourself for impact, that riding gear stands up and takes the hit for you. My riding buddies are witness to some of my dead stop falls- as I am to theirs. In almost all cases, I have gotten up, brushed the dust off my armoured riding jacket and walked away. In one instance, not so long ago, I hurt my knee…and realised that was the last exposed part of my self that needed protection. Knee guards were bought the very next day.

A lid, gauntlets and body armour- essential for the iron horse.

Its also heartening to see that the world over, motorcycle safety and good riding practice gets promoted by manufacturers, governments and media in a big way nowadays. Many motorcycle clubs in India also encourage safe riding and refuse to admit new members who do not have proper gear. Quality riding gear is now more affordable than ever, and readily available through motorcycle stores in almost every corner of a city like Bangalore. I have also become a fan of Shubhrata Marmar, a motorcycle journalist and editor at Overdrive, whose insights into everyday motorcycling are a tremendous inspiration. It is good, honest advice, and although he hasn’t told me how to tackle a wayward heron yet, I’m sure its only a few issues away.

There are plenty of online sources from which to order gear- however, I would always suggest go to a store and try gear on before buying. Some folks, like the ones at Biking Spirit, are extremely knowledgeable and helpful when it comes to selecting gloves, jackets or helmets for yourself. Here’s some links to some good stores in the city-

http://bikingspirit.in

https://www.facebook.com/letsgearup.in/

https://www.facebook.com/Motoarmour/

https://www.facebook.com/BigThrottle/

http://www.nh4motorheads.com/store/

http://www.cramster.in

Wanderlust

September 13, 2016September 22, 2016atullakraLeave a comment

High and dry in the long hot day,

Lost and lonely, every way,

Flats all around, sky up above…

Yes I need a little water of love…

Dire Straits: Water of Love

The sky is the greatest distracter….

Imagine a clear, azure blue sky. A few flecks of cloud dust drifting, in the whereabouts of this empty vastness. Down below is the barren desert, flat and featureless except for an odd tree dotting the arid landscape. You are a weary traveller, tired from the long walk across this dry ocean. You pause, take a break. You look about, look up and notice the sky. The languorous, aimless journey of the clouds tempts the eye. Following their movement is like following time itself. It puts one in a sort of hypnotic trance until at last the mind bores itself of its silent reverie and focuses attention on objects closer to mother earth.

It picks out a naked tree. Its trunk sporting sleek, sinuous veins that snake up to the unfolding branches and reach out like long, slithering tentacles into the sky. Your focus reverts to the emptiness above. Somewhere below is the lonely tree trying to answer the call of this beyond. It is at this supreme moment then that you forget your long tiring journey ahead. The pressures of the material world from which you have run and remain suspended in time wondering… at all around you. The blue sky beckons, happily, loftily, away, unknown perhaps, to all the worries that plague you on mother earth.

The long lonely road to nowhere…

An oft used phrase, this one is so scintillating in the depth of its cry. There are them Harley Davidson angels, riding the breadth of the continent. They burn America’s interstates, the wind in their hair, the sun on their faces, the distant horizon calling them as it recedes further and further away. To a layman they are aimless drifters. They shape their lives on the highway with no known purpose or ambition. But sit around with one of them in one of them countless motels along the way and you will discover that they will describe the land better than any map or journal can.

Every creek along the way, every bend in the road is firmly etched in their minds. Life is a journey without an end. To stop is to decay. As Louis L’ Amour, the famed Wild West writer puts it, “When a man settles down, he stagnates and dies”.

Imagine then, this long lonely road to nowhere, snaking here between pine clad mountains or burning flat across the desert floor. Every where, of course, there is the same, clear blue sky above; the universal binder… the greatest distracter.

The land is the simplest form of architecture….

(Frank Lloyd Wright)

A lot about traveling the land is noting little details that occur in the surrounding terrain. The long serrated line of ridges broken by a craggy mound; the sweeping plain complimented by a lonely tree; the wheeling hawk mirrored on lazy river… the list is endless. A good landscape photographer always looks out for details of the kind. Knowing the lie of the land and all its myriad features thoroughly calls for sharp powers of observation.

A photographer traveling across the English countryscape supplies an amusing anecdote. Cows, he says, are the most awry of all animals. They are always scattered on the terrain, never in a composition. All animals, he argues, should be like sheep; sheep that just mould themselves into the topography in perfect harmony. A photographer’s delight. On a recent trip to Khajuraho, I had the opportunity to observe this phenomenon myself.

What is it about the beauty of the distant horizon that compels great artists to render masterpieces?

The uncharted wilderness…?

The infinite loneliness…?

Or is it just plain curiosity.

I do not know.

I wonder though if there is a way to connect to all of this: The sky, the wind, the earth, the sun and the rain. The bugs, the flies, the heat, the dust, the fog, the mist. The road, the tree, the ever compelling horizon, the pain and the joy?

Maybe there is…

Take a camera and go on a trip to the nearest scenic spot.

Read a book by Louis L’ Amour.

Take a course on the Zen Philosophy.

Yet better still, try riding.

A motorcycle.

jungle-highway — The early days- a 115cc Kawasaki, backpacks and backroads through the Aravallis, Circa 2001

It’s a pity we do not exploit the freedom this wonderful machine can give us. I do not mean struggling with an infernal machine on the congested streets of Delhi. But try riding in the country. On those rutted dirt roads and the dusty state highways. You will feel things you never experience in the air-conditioned cocoon of a car. The wind in your hair. The sun in your face. The dust in your eyes. The tarmac slipping by below your feet. At sixty miles per hour, life is a dull roar in your ears.

You stop at will. Look at the land. Fall in love with it. Look at the sky; notice its changing hues from dawn to dusk. Follow the unending road, forget your tomorrow and forget your past, present and future. Your worries, your pains diminish in the horizon. Loneliness is your greatest companion, the sky your source of sustenance.

Atul Lakra

Article, etecetera, the students’ magazine, school of planning and architecture, New Delhi, May 2000

A tale of two motos…

July 30, 2016September 24, 2016atullakraLeave a comment

Thought I’d take the opportunity to talk about life with my two machines, while the joy of owning two motorcycles is still something I can call my own. That heart tugging decision to let the C5 go, has been taken, and I may have found a right nice guy who will take good care of it.

Perspective plays the strangest tricks. Couple of months ago, my entire riding interest and experience was focussed on the C5. Whether it was the daily commute to work or a weekend jaunt into the nearest woodland, the C5 was the centre of my appreciation, jeers, joys and disappointments. There were times when we were in absolute communion- man and machine in well timed harmony, that grunting British single on song. And then there were times, when you wondered just how you’d been tolerating this beast for 4 years- a broken clutch cable, a misfiring exhaust, lights not working, dead battery, pushing deadweight on a puncture, blown fuse, chain’s loose… you get the drift. And to top it all off- vibes. But then that’s the charm of this half litre royal singleton. And you get used to this dichotomy. Nothing is ever perfect for too long. And nothing bad lasts forever. I was once told -its not an ‘ownership’ with Royal Enfield, its a ‘relationship’. You get the good with the bad. And I got used to it.

This coaster from Happily Unmarried summarises it all. 🙂

In walks that horse of a motorcycle. From the Royal Enfield stable no less. Two days on the new machine and I realised that the level of sophistication on this brute was way past anything Royal Enfield has ever churned out before. First thing I notice- gone is that majestic thump. Second thing I notice- no vibes. None. This, clearly, is no ‘Bullet’. Nope, not even close. Now don’t get me wrong. I am no ‘Bullet’ worshipper. And I am no fan of that legendary ‘thump’. Nor do I believe that louder is better. In-fact I cannot understand folks who buy a Royal Enfield Bullet- Classic, Standard, T-bird, GT… whatever, and then fix that mega-phone exhaust to announce to the world that they have ‘arrived’. The roads would be much quieter without them, in my opinion, and the world, probably a better place. Besides, they kill their engines with those aftermarket boom boxes. I digress… Back to the Himalayan, then. On every commute, I am hard pressed to believe that I’m actually riding a thoroughly modern, bare bones moto that has been well engineered, and is capable of taking on almost anything you throw at it. There is an assurance of rock solid dependability on every ride, and from every department- the engine, the electronics, the suspension, the ergonomics, it all works! Surely, there’s been a mistake- how can this be a true Royal Enfield? Where is that endearing character? That promise of uncertainty? That lure of the unknown? It fails to show up. Repeatedly. I wouldn’t say that the machine is without niggles and issues- but most of them have been sorted out for me after the first service. And there’s character too- past the 600km mark on the odo, the exhaust now does some lovely pops and cackles when de-accelerating. There’s enough grunt to the throttle and once you are used to it, you realise, this is a refined traffic carver.

I remember my first extended ride on the Himalayan. On the second night of ownership, I have a CBR250R for company and we are headed to the Airport for a cuppa. The Himalayan is a breeze to ride at 70kph. Its easy riding with the CBR- two cool runners- I think, this is nearly up there with the super smooth Honda. There’s dazzling instrumentation in front of me- ‘all systems are a go’. Speed, heading, RPM, temperature, fuel, time, trip distance- there’s a host of details. I’m cruising. The engine, after a few days of running in, is slightly more rev happy, and I’m having a ball. And standing on pegs is so damn easy..!

The console on the Himalayan, seems borrowed from a spaceship, when compared to the C5.

The console on the C5-utilitarian, at best.

Some days on, I feel a pang. Something’s calling me… a quiet pull at my shirtsleeves, while I’m looking away, all in awe of this newbie. I finally notice it one day- that hulk of old, shiny black metal. Standing solemn next to the white horse. Counting its days with me. Waiting…

Two weeks of riding the Himalayan, and that pang has gotten intense. I’m used to the Himalayan now, I tell myself. I know how that corner feels. I know what speed to tackle that speed breaker at. But I’m asking myself, how was it on the C5? Do I still remember? My hands are aching for the feel of those handlebars. That vibey assault on the senses. Those days of hard cornering. That instant feedback…that guttural thump!

That’s it. I’m riding the C5 out today..!

Lost in the hinterland

July 26, 2016September 22, 2016atullakra1 Comment

The Himalayan on its home turf, July 2016

I had been raring to take the newbie (Himalayan) out of the city and last weekend presented that opportunity. Three of us ‘weekend enthu cutlets‘ from the workplace decided to do our usual Sunday breakfast run. As the engine is still running in, I was keen to choose a slow, scenic route. A Facebook post by one of the bikers about a route to Jawalagiri Reserve Forest on the outskirts of Bangalore, had caught my attention- the road promised to be a divine little sojourn through a beautiful forest. WhatsApp invites were sent out, but as is often the case, everyone dropped out at the last minute, and we ended up like we always do- three messieurs always ready to ride.

An early morning start, and we were cruising down Hosur road by 5:30 am, for a quick run till the outskirts of Hosur. We turned off on the ring road circling Hosur- and at that point Google Mausi tells us it would be an hour till Jawalagiri village. Now if you want to ever do this circuit, be advised, the first one hour or so from Bangalore can get extremely boring- all we had was a four lane ring road, which dissolved into a two lane blacktop with bits of uneven tarmac. This is a fairly urbanised stretch with lots of factories on either side of the road. Some 30 minutes on this road and I was really beginning to not enjoy the scenery- here’s a biscuit factory, oh there’s a cement factory, there’s one that makes spare parts- in short, too many factories…and it was boring. We seemed to be cruising through the heartland of small scale manufacturing. And it was plain BORING! This wasn’t great, I told myself- not the best route for a breakfast ride!

Screen Shot 2016-07-26 at 11.37.15 PM — The route- the first stretch till Thally, is well, boring. July 2016

And where was breakfast?? It was getting on to 7am, and I was hungry. We seemed to have left even the semi decent joints behind in Hosur. We reached Thally, a nondescript village with two cross-roads that seemed to signal the end of factories. We weren’t keen to stop here- and a passerby told us you could get a cup of tea further ahead. Now, part of the reason we had chosen this route was that we were under the impression that this same route leads to Hoggenakkal falls-a popular waterfall at a distance of 150 odd km from Bangalore. This route wasn’t the regular route to Hogennakkal however, and none of us knew how exactly one connects to the falls from Thally or Jawalagiri. The FB post photos seemed a bit hazy now- and we continued with some trepidation.

I was in the lead, and in the last stretch up to Thally, I had been riding fast, mainly because I wanted to not have to look at those dreadful factories around. I continued in the same manner past Thally, not expecting much. A few miles out of Thally, and the road changed. I was past a beautiful spot before I could see it- there was a lake, I noticed Deepak slowing down, but I was too focussed on the bend up ahead. I come around the bend and there’s a forest! Really? Where did those factories go? So from here on till Jawalagiri village, the road becomes more bearable. We stop at a village tea stall- and a lil birdie alights on OP’s bike. It’s a sparrow. Now, I haven’t seen many sparrows in the city- all you see are those nasty pigeons- with their nasty shite all over the place.

A sparrow! Don’t see them in the city much. July 2016

Further on, the road brightens up. We enter Jawalagiri forest. And inspite of a cloudy morning, the sight lifts us up. We stop for photos- I take the Himalayan into a field as the country opens up- more photos. This is turning out like one of our regular rides- not too bad, I think.

The Himalayan off-road-photo op. July 2016

We are now headed towards Anchetty- from where, we are told, we can connect towards Hogennakkal. The road narrows down, and we pass through another village. We seem to be in rolling country now- and we are climbing-I see hills in the distance. Past the village, the road turns, and suddenly we come upon a gorgeous vista.

A view we did not expect on this road, July 2016

We are now in beautiful hinterland and we are not sure if we are headed in the right direction. It doesn’t matter- we are three mates, lost on a Sunday ride. Photo opportunities in this lovely, dale-ish country abound and we don’t miss them. This is what Sunday mornings should be about, I tell myself, take your moto, take your mates and get lost in the process of discovering the lie of the land. I have forgotten all about breakfast.

Hillocks, rolling fields and a moto you love. Bliss.

These roads are meant for motorcycling through. July 2016

I can see that the others are loving this too. We are in the heart of motorcycling country. There’s nary a cart on the road-and at this hour in the morning, there’s not many souls about. There are three motorcycles traversing through gorgeous landscape. Perfect.

Motorcycles, and an open road. Sunday morning recipe.

On almost every ride, you often come across what one would call ‘the spot’. It’s that definitive place you discover, one that captures the ride’s memory for days to come. On this ride, ‘the spot’ was a hidden gem. And it was somewhere midway between Jawalagiri and Anchetty. Go figure.

We finished the ride at Anchetty- had delicious dosa for breakfast and piping hot tea brewed in a copper vessel, before calling it a day. A minor fall on the way and a bent handlebar on my newbie, was the only lowdown on what was a brilliant ride and route. I was glad Shadowfax finally went in for a gallop, and what lovely woodlands it was able to roam!

Photos– OP San

Riders– Deepak- TBird 350, OP-C5, Yours Truly-Himalayan

On Any Sunday…

July 13, 2016September 22, 2016atullakraLeave a comment

Here’s what you do for an awesome Sunday-

1. Round up your mates
2. Start your engines
3. Head for the nearest patch of woods
4. Grab some idly-vada and great coffee on the way
5. Banter with mates on whose bike is better
6. Watch out for elephants en-route
8. Consult Google Mausi for directions in the woods
9. Ride home in time for ‘Real’ Breakfast. 🙂

Sometimes, the best rides are the ones which have never been planned. The young blood in office had been clamouring for a ride. Now, as is the case with young blood anywhere- they lead glamorous lives. Folks in office are no different. Saturday nights are spent partying till late and Sunday mornings in mournful stupor about the impending Monday work blues. So it was a pleasant surprise when the youngest ones turned up on the dot, at 4:00 am, and had to wait for us older paunches to roll in-a full 10 minutes later. The route had been decided vaguely the night before. Google Mausi had shown us this:

Google mausi’s back of the woods circuit. March 2016

This was a good 100kms loop. Breakfast was planned at our usual Harohalli joint on Kanakapura Road, a favourite since my days with MOT. We would be skirting the edge of the Bannerghatta Reserve Forest- and on a previous ride, I had seen this road to be scenic and of good surface. What I did not notice was the roadworks sign at Ragihalli.

After breakfast at Harohalli, we took the first left and came upon a beautiful stretch of tarmac. Popular with cyclists, this two lane minor state highway is a gorgeous connector between Kanakapura Road and Hosur Road, both arterial highways leading out of the city. Roadworks at Ragihalli village, however, forced us into a detour through the sleepy hamlet, and we missed a turn at the fork. We unknowingly entered the reserve forest on a dirt trail. About 20 minutes of riding brought us to a point where the trail petered out at a line fence and its makeshift barrier. The area up ahead looked like a forest, and was inviting. I crossed the line fence through the barrier and was about to downshift to take on the incline, when I saw this sign. And stopped.

We noticed that the fence was (supposedly) electrified, and we were bang in the middle of an elephant corridor! We had barely done forty odd kilometres of riding , and here we were, in a state forest- with real live elephants! Needless to say, we calmed our fears of getting raided by tuskers and posed for some photos- this photo op was not to be missed.

A young blood shoots the pack, March 2016

Lonely Rider — Another young blood shoots the lone wolf, March 2016

We decided to continue onward as Google Mausi, told us of a secret path out of the woods. Soon we were passing through some lovely stretches- like the one below- this was real country!

motome — Run through the jungle….can you hear CCR in the distance? March 2016

About another 40 minutes of riding and Google Mausi decides to give up the ghost. I had been standing on pegs in that stretch, and as I sat down, I noticed Mausi is silent. I beckon others to stop and we do a quick look around.

When I pulled a stunt and *Google Mausi* died! March 2016

Nothing much around- a quaint little temple, where the Pujari probably visits on a fortnight, some make believe grass and a beautiful Jacaranda tree. Photo op not to be missed? You bet!

For some, finding a place to chill involves some serious off roading, and a forest. March 2016

There wasn’t much to do beyond that in this place. So we decided to move on. Now did I tell you that Google Mausi moonlights as a Goddess? (To understand this phenomenon better, I suggest you read American Gods, by Neil Gaiman). Well Goddesses, often find favour with the cool candidate. Deepak has a cool bike- therefore Goddess lights up his phone. We discover a way out of there- turns out we just need to keep on moving down the same trail.

Well, that broken forest road throws up another surprise- and we find a boulder outcrop with a great green vista. Needless to say, the bikes were lined up, on the rocks. Metal sided with plastics and looked onto the great greenfield beyond!

When raw iron and pure plastic stood by one another! March 2016

Soon however, we stole the thunder from the plastics! March 2016

After this call of duty it was time to bid goodbye. We left our separate ways and joined that rush of weekend traffic and caged imbeciles on the road. It’s always fruitful to start a great Sunday by getting lost in the neighbourhood wilderness!

TEMC

July 12, 2016September 24, 2016atullakraLeave a comment

For professional reasons, I am not at liberty to reveal what TEMC stands for. Rest assured, it has something to do with my workplace. And yes the last two letters stand for Motorcycle Club. Now it so happened that parking lot discoveries revealed to me that there were quite a few ardent motorcyclists in office. It was only a matter of time before a Whatsapp group was created. Official emails were sent and the first day ride was organised to Yelagiri on August 28th, 2014.

First photo op_on NH7, Ride to Yelagiri, August 2014

We were a motley bunch with most of us riding Royal Enfield motos and a couple of lads on an Avenger 220 and a Yamaha FZ 150. The plan was to cover the 160 odd kms to Yelagiri in good time and start real early.

Now this ride was a first with folks from my office. My expectations from this ride were so so. There were some inexperienced riders in the group who would need some amount of shepherding. At the same time, four of the riders had done a lot of touring- A moto couple, Vaishali and her hubby Ashutosh, had also done the Leh/ Ladakh circuit. Sabith and Rajeev were experienced riders. I had had my share of rides.

We assembled in front of Total Mall, Koramangala at 5:00 am and most of us showed great discipline and turned up within minutes of each other. The last rider, Sabith, was to join us somewhere near Hosur. We made a cracking start and were at the second rendezvous in no time. Sabith turned up some 10 minutes later and it was surprising to see him sans his riding jacket. Instead he had a yoga mat strapped with a bungee cord on his seat! I still wonder what he had been thinking at that time…

En route to Yelagiri. White helmet, black machine-yours truly. August 2014

On and off, the group would fall into a two by two ride formation, but it was mostly each man for himself. Ashutosh had the good sense to ride tail and make sure no one was falling behind. Breakfast halt was at Shoolagiri- and many a masala dosa, idlis and vadas were gulped and washed down with steaming filter coffee. We made good time after that and reached the foothills of Yelagiri by 7:30 am.

The real fun started after that, the ride uphill was exhilarating. At that hour, there was no traffic, so you had all the bends to yourself. I could see Sabith, just ahead, scraping his footpegs on every corner. On this ride I had a custom performance exhaust strapped on my bike and this was a good opportunity to test it (more details here- https://yonderbluemountain.wordpress.com/2016/06/26/c5-evolution/). I gunned the throttle and took pole position. I think that was the fastest climb I have ever done in my life. I had no time to count the bends, nor to admire beautiful mountain vistas flashing past me. All I could see was the corner ahead and Sabith in my mirrors, hugging bend after bend. The logic was simple, slow down just before the corner, accelerate through the bend, make sure you time yourself around the corner and keep your eyes glued to a spot at least 50m ahead. Before long, the entire fast bunch was at the top. This was good riding, I told myself.

Yelagiri is best described as a sleepy hill side town, I would go to the lengths of calling it a kasba-something between a town and village. The townsfolk were just rising- a tea stall owner was setting up his pots and pans, when we rolled in. It seemed like a scene from an old western. There you have it, a main street. Townsfolk just starting to go about their business. Shops starting to open, smells of breakfast wafting into the street from a few meagre cafes and schoolchildren being cajoled out of their houses by their frantic moms. Suddenly, there’s a thunderous sound, and a bunch of cowboys ride in on iron horses. We get stares. Some appreciative glances from a few youngsters. A few minutes of drama and we are the centre of it all. But this town is no stranger to visitors. We park and dismount, kill our engines, and the towns people just shrug and go about their business. This is clearly no event for them.

We stand together, sipping coffee when one of us glances at his watch. Its 8:30 am. We applaud each other- wow! We made good time. We are happy. And then it strikes us! This was meant to be a whole day affair! We have made it to our destination too early! What are we supposed to do now? This was surely a first in my history of rides.

Grand plans are charted immediately, some of which promise to be a mini tour around half of South India. We soon remind each other that we have wives, children, uncles, aunts and mouths to feed. Indeed the nation’s economy hangs in balance until our return- not to mention the rest of the office eagerly waiting for us to return to work! We finally decide to survey and explore local flavour. Directions are asked of village folk and we take one of the smaller roads leading out of town.

Local knowledge is best when it comes to directions! August 2014

An old gent tells us of a spot on a hill and we head off in that general direction. A spot of off-roading and a steep climb leads to a hill top parking lot- with views to behold.

To get up to the parking lot, we had to ride this trail! August 2014

Some of us head off for a trek after that. I lose and find my phone on the trail. A lonely goat herd doubles up as a guide/ sneaky murderer in our collective, fertile imagination. A couple of hours later, we decide to head back home. Some photo sessions on the way down and we conclude that this has been a good day out. A short detour to Krishnagiri dam turned out disappointing, but I did manage to take a couple of photos.