Mar 28 2008

The nostalgic thump – by Jaipreet Joshi

The spirits were high and so were we, naturally so, my wife and I had planned a short & sweet ride to Ajmer & Pushkar. The bag had been stuffed with the barest minimum stuff we would require for the next two days of our itinerary. The Bull was sparkling as I polished it a bit extra that day as a rider messages his charger before the race. Ma & pa thought that we had gone berserk; they kept telling us as to why we were not taking our luxury car for this journey. Confused were they, as much as we were in explaining to them, the ‘Zen of riding’ which only a few of us could comprehend or I should say ‘feel’ it. Kids, who were told to behave at their grandparents home bid us adieu and we thumped off from Delhi in the midst of a perfect early morning with clear skies and pleasant breeze. The Bull was warmed for the 400km ride ahead; the engine was in perfect harmony with the weather. The macho thump and the wind through the helmet visor made a perfect orchestra which we passionately devoured on board. The first halt happened near Amber Fort, Jaipur – a quick cup of tea with a parantha each did a magic in rejuvenating us for the rest of the leg. The road was wide and inviting but I self-restrained from revving beyond 60-70 kph. While we rode I kept thinking what was it that gave us the thrill in riding and not in driving? Was it a mere representation of an idea of being energetic and young, a mere passion, or a show off or what was it? Whatever it might be, it is a great feeling and one has to live it to feel it, so said Charu, my wife! We were nearing Pushkar! The setting was perfect, a narrow by pass from Ajmer with small cluster of houses or ‘deras’ unevenly spread out in the wide expanse of ‘kikar’ and sand.

Children waved at us while running behind the Bull while we reciprocated with smiles and waving hands too. We were away from home, yet everything seemed so dear and nice. The Bull was thumping in the holy town of ‘Pushkar’ – the ‘holy thump’ it was! The echo of the thump against the walled town made several eyes turn at us in a welcoming manner. Pink Floyd, well that was the name of the Hotel where we checked in. The walls were meticulously done with classic bikes and, bikers and varied albums of Pink Floyd – the rock group. The room where we stayed was – ‘the other side of the midnight’ – one of the many Pink Floyd’s albums. It was a time for something to eat and to have a good nap. So we walked up the hotel’s terrace top restaurant. The setting was amazing – floor seating, with rarest of rare posters and curios of Pink Floyd. We were just craving for the grub and hurriedly opted for some Italian stuff. The few minutes wait, for the order was killing. Wow! The food was exotic – really luscious, pasta & lasagnas (hope I spelled it correct). It was beyond our belief to have access to such exotic food in a small town which could give a run for its money to any of big restaurateur in Delhi or Mumbai for that matter. The next day’s dawn happened amidst the thump of the Bull and we groomed off to Ajmer. We paid our homage at Khwaja Saab’s Dargah and steered towards Delhi. We hit Delhi by evening, covering 400kms .The welcome was planned and elaborate, as if we had scaled the Everest, but to be honest the feeling was amazing – that of achievement! The ‘holy thump’ still sounds nostalgic!

Mar 28 2008

Baptism on the road – by Jaipreet Joshi

The bungee net was pulled over the luggage cramped on the panniers, a last minute check of the loading was carried out, everything seemed impeccable. Being a connoisseur of a couple of rides in the past did help us to take plan the itinerary and stuff, but the name Ladakh itself is good enough to send shivers down the spine of most seasoned of the riders. The ride finally precipitated after months of exchanging information from fellow riders of our Mecca – 60 Kph – a motorcycle travel club. Counseling at times, preparations and deliberations all jumbled up to ensemble. The Last Shangri La 2007 (name of the ride), not in absolute terms but because Ladakh was once under the influence of erstwhile Chinese rulers. Since China is better known as Shangri La. When the Chinese retreated this little piece of jewel stayed with India and came to be known as the Last Shangri La in the local parlance. Tees with the Last Shangri La printed on the front were pulled over with pride by the team:

Jaipreet aka Kaptan

Rajdeep aka Raj

Vijay aka Viju

Ashutosh aka (dare we!)

Day 1

My cell phone alarm buzzed uninterruptedly at 3:00 am on 11th Sep 07, I woke up with a certain freshness and zeal. Next thing I did was to give a wake up call to Ashutosh, who thanked in a hoarse voice, must’ve been cramped in his bed then! Charu bid me adieu with a seemingly heavy heart as I was moving away for 14 days, the longest period of voluntary separation after those forced ones we had during the stint with army. I reached the rendezvous – the flyover on the NH-8 near Gurgaon at 5:15 am sharp but kept pacing up and down as neither Ashutosh nor his bike’s headlights made an appearance till 5:45 am when I saw a small figure mounted on an overtly loaded Bullet. We wasted no time in exchanging pleasantries and kicked off to the next rendezvous which was Karnal Bye Pass, where the other fellow riders were to assemble. We were behind scheduled so we revved up at 70 kph and beyond in the fresh morning breeze. To our dismay, the ring road near Azad Pur vegetable market was crisscrossed with rickety trucks which had lined up in a haphazard manner in an endeavor to gain quick access to the ‘mandi’ as soon as its gate opened. There was not a single traffic cop to prevent this mayhem, we somehow snailed ahead but were forced to stall after some time. With some support from local volunteers and others who were in a similar hurry, we waded our way through the jam. But by this time the other two impatient birds had flown further towards the destination. I got a call from Raj that they were heading to Murthal and shall wait for us over breakfast there. The troubles did not seem to seize here, next was the turn of my throttle cable which snapped and gave away. But I decided not to be cowed down and kept riding, pulling the broken cable with my fingers, with slight difficulty though. The unison finally happened near Murthal, where we had grub and the cable got changed in the mean time. The journey resumed soon, though we were 2 hours behind schedule by now. The going was perfect till Ambala when suddenly my bike succumbed to a piston seizure. “What on earth was happening?” I murmured to myself. ‘Babla ustaad’ was where we were directed to in Ambala town. The customers lined up near his workshop and did not mix words to call him a Royal Enfield wizard and true it was. He repaired the bike in a record time and put it back vrooming. Thereafter, there was no stopping till we reached Ropar and halted for the night. Since we were a day behind the schedule and had initially planned to hit Manali the first day, we pulled up our Bulls and had a long day on 12th Aug 07 when we finally reached Manali but not before the last light. It had rained big cats and dogs whole day and made us no different from wet snails working hard on the road, layers of rain suits failed to keep us dry. We were drenched to the hilt but nowhere in our determination did we feel soggy. Even at one point of time, I got stuck in a land slide. The traffic from both sides had come to a grinding halt as big boulders continued to fall amidst heavy down-pour near Mandi. I had everything in my mind but to stop and wait, so I waded through knee deep slush and over the rocks helped by some local drivers who pushed my bike as I kept looking overhead for more rocks to come. God seemed to be happy with me and my stars helped me out of this catch. It was a relief to have a much awaited and snuggy clip of sleep at Hotel Sahil (recommended by Baba Barfanai – one of our biking pals, officially known as Vivek Sharma) at Ropar a.k.a. Roopnagar, though frequent whistles of the passing trains could do nothing to break our composure. A repeat of the morning chores took a couple of minutes and we were back on the road; where we were destined to be. Day 2

The stretch from Roopnagar onwards was simply splendid; the fresh spell of rains had further freshened up the greenery on either side which was a treat to the eyes. Continuous splash of rains did its best to dampen our spirits but fell face down against our grit, till we could see clouds dispersing by late evening. The evening numbness and silence of Manali town was disoriented by our over-heated bulls which needed a respite desperately. The lamps had glowed, which added to the beauty of this mountain town, we checked into a small budget hotel. Dinner followed, which was simple though a very native affair ¬- momos and thukpa. Raj & Viju gave me company but Ashu decided to refrain from so called adventure and had juices to the hilt of his gob. We retired back to our yet another abode and fell like rocks on the bed.

Day 3

As decided we had to acclimatize our bodies to the new heights so we called it a day in the sunny town. All our stuff, shoes, clothes and all had drenched completely, so the next few hours saw us spreading out our stuff in the sun. In fact, I had a severe head-ache, may be due to riding wet for almost 2 days. Raj’s medicine did wonder and I felt better very soon. A bout of complete body massage by local masseurs squeezed the pain out of our aching joints and muscles. We felt much fresher and rejuvenated, ready to take on the next on the itinerary. After a sumptuous breakfast, we decided to get across Rohtang at Khoksar before night. So off we started, log, stock and barrel for Rohtang. After clocking a few kilometers I could see none except Raj, so we decided to take an egg bhurji and tea break but still there was no thump to hear. So we decided to move ahead, the road was hardly there, whatever remained was bad, slippery and slushy piece of track. We worked hard and intercepted the obstacles with some efforts, soon Raj realized that both the tent, his and mine, which he was carrying seem to have been dropped, so a hunt for it began and I decided to wait for him at Marrhi. After a couple of hours Raj came back along with the other two with a long face as he could not trace the stuff he went looking for. We held our heads down but little could now be done. Ashu’s dream of camping by Pangong Tso seemed to fade, but we carried on with same grit. Viju’s bike came to a royal halt 7 kms short of Rotang La and refused to budge. Thanks to the instincts of Ashu, who fiddled with the carburetor and the bike fired. How? We still don’t know! “Wow!” Exclaimed all of us and resumed our already troubled ride. It was 1915 hrs and we were atop Rohtang La, with not a sight of a human but a herd of grazing horses surely gave us company, which I captured through my lenses. With darkness taking its toll, we decided to move ahead and night halt at Khoksar, which was a cool 25 kms away. It was now 2100 hrs and we were hunting for a hide out at Khoksar, suddenly a bright idea came from Ashu who found out a hotel at Sissu, just 12 kms away. Though I was hungry like a pig, we took the call and moved ahead. The road was pretty bad and to add to our woes ‘Pagal Nallah’ had literally turned mad causing a flood like situation on the causeway. With the help of locals we discovered another route through the village, uphill. It was now 2200 hrs and we were squashed too by the time we hit the hotel, had some dal and roti to eat and stretched out in oblivion.

Day 4

It was a bright sunny day with no sight of clouds or rains, which had already caused enough predicament. Ashu got his pannier welded which had ripped off as a result of his impeccable riding skill (little pun intended)! The journey seemed to be taking us on a higher plane every day, the open meadows with smiling faces of locals which almost squeezed their eyes added to the excitement. At Tandi we got our tanks topped up and also the jerry-cans which were empty till now as the next filling station was in Leh, good 365 kms away. The day was long but exciting as we kept riding through the spiraled roads. It was getting noon and we were crossing Jispa, where a pretty young girl cried “Lift”! Someone missed a beat when with a heavy heart she was denied the call. The memoirs of that brief incident still linger in the minds and shall I say hearts of some of us. Lunch break happened at Darcha, which is a picturesque spot by the wide span of river Chandra Bhaga, several shutters opened capturing the elegance and splendor of nature in its truest form. We kept riding that day over – Baralach La at 16,500 ft. Baralach La means big pass where river Chandra & Bhaga originate and form river Chandrabhag at Tandi and assumes the status of Chenab in Doda dist. of J&K. Having ridden through nallas, small villages and gata loops we finally reached Sarchu. Wow! What a splendor of nature one witnesses here with huge meadows and artistic chisel in the rocky mountains, gracefully securing the environs of Sarchu. We decided to camp it out here and hired 2 tents from one Mr. Dorjee for Rs. 200/ each. The night was cold, very very cold, the wind chill made it worst but we stretched in the warm kitchen tent of Dorjee where we met some Israeli and a French guy (though he sounded more like a Briton). The French guy had guzzled couple of beers and had a puff of ‘chilam’ from the very hospitable Israelis who offered the same to us but were reciprocated with a negative. The spirits were high, so a French song of soliloquy was a treat, but only that we could not make a fig out of it. We retired in our tents and kept tossing over on the bed as we could now feel the heat oops cold, or the high altitude effect.

Day 5

The day was bright and sunny but Ashu was on the contrary. I found him puking badly in the wee hours, though he was uncomfortable the previous night too and we had given him our share of medicines which I & Raj had carried but we found him deteriorating. So I rushed him to the nearest Army Medical unit at Sarchu where he was attended by a nursing assistant, in the meantime Raj & Viju made use of the time capturing nature in it prettiest form. Day 5 was presumably the toughest so far, we crossed 3 more passes – Naki La, Lachung La and Tanglang La. Before the quest for Tanglang La began, a request came in from all 3 to take a break at Pang but I pestered them all to pull a bit more and cross over the pass and halt the other side. What I had in the back of my mind was a day by which we were behind the schedule and the need to compensate for that. Whether the decision was right or wrong still hovers in my sub-conscious. To add to all the psychological and physiological misery, my bike got flat 5 kms short of Tanglang La with Raj & Viju nowhere in sight, the only help which was available was in the form of wounded soldier – Ashu. The removal of the wheel and the replacement of the tube followed by pumping air in it at a height of almost 16000+ feet, still sends shivers down my spine to this day. Ashu put in his best in assisting me, without him I probably could have not done it… thanks buddy! After riding 5 kms beyond Pang we were welcomed by the mighty Morre Plains. Scenic and simply awesome, heaven on earth, and I mean it. A mix of sandy hills, rocky vertical cliffs, roads through sand dunes, sleet, wind chill, sun burn all combined into orgasmic beauty, absolutely untouched and unheard of. There was no stopping thereafter till Rumtse where we decided to take a night break. Raj too took a brief break atop Tanglang La for reasons best known to the foursome! Raj now speaks with authority on the medicinal values of wild herbs of Himalayas for the valuable time he spent atop Tanglang La. The spine chilling bends and curves of the road from Tanglang La finally brought us to Rumtse, a small sleepy hamlet amidst the mighty Himalayas with a couple of houses which welcome guests. The night halt was a luxury as we slept on proper wooden beds followed by a brief round of rum in hot water. We also wished Charu (my wife) happy birthday as that was the best we could do sans telephones, cells or any other sort of communication whatsoever. Though we were far away from civilization the feeling of achievement kept us going all through out.

Day 6

The morning breeze was fresh and revitalizing. The homely atmosphere of our guest house was magnetic and we felt like stretching ourselves a bit more. The local kids gathered around us when we tied our luggage and giggled innocently. They seemed to be absolutely untouched by cunning and astuteness as prevalent from where we come from; all in all it was a treat. Viju bought some sweets from a small shop and distributed it amongst crackles of smiles and dimple cheeks. The warm sun elevated our energy levels as we rode our way to Leh. The first sight of civilization happened at Upshi, where we saw scores of defence establishments and personnel. As we rode along the river Indus, which is the origin of our civilisation, we found heading to Karoo, one of the biggest military stations in the country. It was a strange feeling to see such a beautiful terrain smeared with very cosmetic military green huts and barracks, what a pity! But except for feeling bad there was little we could do, so we decided to concentrate on the generous garnish of beauty bestowed upon by nature on Ladakh. Our average riding speeds had now revved upto phenomenal 45-50 kmph which was exhilarating after clocking 12-15 kmph in the past 2 days. Entry to Leh was marked by giant Photangs and Thiksey, majestically standing along the national highway. Though none of us had faint knowledge of the architecture it was a treat to the eyes to see the very pragmatic and exquisite designs undaunted by the sands of time. Soon we were thumping up the Old Leh road, where after brief hunting; we decided to spend the next few days at Hotel Kang-La, which we later realized was actually ‘Kangla’ (impoverished) hotel. The owner, Saleem Bhai, was a peculiar character, a smart young man of about 30 yrs of age who would not know when to stop once he would start yapping. His narration of the horrors of Jozilla Pass still echo in our ears – “Jozilla bahut khatranak hai, thik hai na! Bhaut oonchi pahadi hai, par itni oonchi bhi nahin, thik hai na. Wahan, baap bete ka nahin aur beta baap ka nhin. Agar gir gaya to haddi nahin milta, thik hai na”? ‘Thik hai na’ was a jargon which he would make use of unhindered in all his conversations. The mouth watering helpings of butter chicken, dal, naan and papad made us hog like pigs. It was a treat to devour a delicacy called ‘roti’ after morning to night rounds of noodles or rice. A chilled bottle of beer each, acted like a wonderful appetizer. We retired to our rooms after the lavish extravaganza to soothe our spines and all those bones which moaned. Evening was spent leisurely strolling thought the streets of Leh, curiously picking and appreciating various artifacts exhibited on the road side. The night was a welcome retreat and we gave it the honor it deserved by sleeping till late the next day.

Day 7

The bikes moved fast and furious in the vicinity of Leh without our trademark – luggage, tank bags and rickety tarpaulins. Our bulls never felt so light and energetic riding in the plain roads of Leh. The day was spent visiting Himis Gonpa near Kaaru – the biggest Gonpa in the whole of Ladakh which houses more then 500 monks, Thiksey, Zoravar Fort near the airport (hardly a fort, its more of a decaying stable for famished horses), Shey Palace and host of other not so conspicuous places of interest. A part of the previous day was spent with Juma (the bike wizard) who inspected our bikes and carried out minor repairs/ adjustments etc.

Day 8

After a lavish breakfast at Garden Café, we vroomed our way upto Kardung La. The road was a treat till we were 10 kms short; thereafter our machines were put under terrible grind and test. But, none could hold us back, because this was what we were there for, atop Khardung La. Various rounds of photography, frames after frames till we finally decided to venture into the other side of the pass into the Nubra valley. There was a certain amount of elusiveness and mysticism in the air, something which pulled us faster into the exotic Nubra valley. After getting our permit checked at North Pillu we rode upto Khardung village where we decided to halt for meal – hot magi complimented with a cup of tea. The ride resumed after a 45 minutes of well deserved break. The night halt happened at Hunder – a sleepy hamlet where the sand dunes and Bactrian camels were a sure treat to the eyes. Viju & Raj spent time angling various subjects in the splendid environs.

Day 9

It was time to return and we crossed over the mighty Khardung La standing tall at 18,350 feet and reached back to our Kangla hotel by afternoon. The evening was spent picking up things for our near and dear ones and finally retiring to our rooms.

Day 10

Till the previous night we thought Pangong Tso was ruled out as self and Raj were not feeling sort of well. But as luck would have it, things turned out fine and we finally started off for Pangong Tso. The entire length of journey was interspersed with meetings with hosts of military personnel who offered lot of hospitality on knowing my antecedents, rest of the gang would surely have felt bored for those brief durations of meeting I am sure? If there is a heaven which you could see here on earth then it is Pangong! It was simply mesmerizing and awesome – in fact is a very small word to define Pangong. The icy blue waters which turned green and kept changing colors with passing time, was awe inspiring. The boat ride was a welcome change from the bulls. The jawan from the Corps of Engineers – 235 Regmt took us 6 kms into the river, what a ride it was! Sea gulls quacked at us in amusement and chased us as we returned to the banks of this mighty river at a height of 4403 mtrs, 145 kms long, with as deep as 205 mtrs at some places. This salt water lake at this mammoth height is an absolute wonder of nature, why should it not be include in one of the natural wonders of the world? With heavy hearts we bid adieu to the army detachment who offered us dal, sabzi, rice and rotis. We reached back to Leh by evening and started preparing ourselves for the descent which was to come the next day.

Day 11

Leh to Drass was a long ride. We crossed Kargil, a beautiful town set along the river bustling with activities. The left over bunkers and fire walls reminded us of Operation Vijay in Kargil sector where our troops vehemently threw out the adversaries from our motherland. We reached Drass, 2nd coldest inhabited place in the world by night. Raj was offered a stay in the army camp but we decided against the same considering the liberty we would have to lose. So we checked in hotel Hotel Hill View and retired to freshen ourselves for the next day.

Day 12

Crossing Jozilla was a little tough (as guided by Salim Bhai) due to the bad road and slippery descent into Sonamarg. We had a nice hot cup of tea and halwa at a small time dhaba in the picturesque town of Sonamarg – it was awesome, but the only grudge was that we could not enjoy its beauty beyond our breakfast. Our machines had also gotten a well-deserved halt and we were thumping again on the roads. Reaching Srinagar happened without anyone realizing so as the average riding speed was 60kph. Viju was to stay at Srinagar for a couple of day as he had his train from Jammu on the 28th. So we hugged him and took leave from him after a lunch near the famous Dal Lake. Infact, Srinagar is no parallel to the beauty of Ladakh and surely Pangong beats Dal by 100%, so there was no inkling to see Srinagar. By 1900 hrs we were at Ramban, a small place 35 kms ahead of Banihal where we decided to night halt.

Day 13

Now it was three of us, and the volume of thump had obviously mellowed down a bit. Now everybody wanted to be home as quickly as possibly, there was no attraction left in the ride now after having crossed over J&K. We kept riding and finally reached Ludhiana. Ashu caught us a little later as his bike had gone bad and he had stopped near Udhampur for repairs. A hot water bath was a treat to the tired frame and after a lavish dinner we retired to our beds with dreams of being in the arms of our beloveds.

Day 14

We kicked off from Ludhina at 0830 hrs and after cruising comfortably re-entered the environs of Delhi at around 2:00 pm. It was back to madness but this is where we belong. The ride was amazing and nothing short of being superbly awesome. Though I have ridden before this too, the real baptism into riding happened during this ride to Ladakh. The enlightenment which ushered on to me after this nostalgic ride may be bulleted as:

~ If you love riding – ride through Ladkah, there can’t be a more pious baptism as a rider than this.

~ No plan is best plan – though prepare for all eventualities meticulously.

~ Welcome COPs – Change of Plans, because in hills that is one thing which works.

~ Last but not the hills – ride without inhibitions, ride tough!

Mar 28 2008

Memoirs of a Wandering Nomad – Part 3 – By Shreekant Vijaykar

Here’s to the third absolutely crazy madcap bike ride of the three Nomads. This time, the distance is the greatest ever. The terrain we scaled is equally great in beauty and the fun, unimaginable…

There’s nothing like unplanned trips. Correction, there’s nothing like trips planned for one thing and which materialize into something totally different.

This is about a trip planned to Mussoorie, which went right out of the window the night before, because of one bright idea. The idea is that we’ll go to Chail (near Shimla) rather than Mussoorie. Reason? Just like that. So we leave Noida Saturday morning 17 August 2002, 7:15am. The weather is pleasant, rather sunny. We travel 30-odd km through Delhi, passing Rajghat, Red Fort and ISBT. We come out of Delhi. The road turns to the right and slowly the signs of the metropolis fade into the background. We cross Sonipat (50 km) and then Panipat (another 50 km). Only a Maratha knows what happens to him with the mention of the word “Panipat”. The Panipat of the actual world is however too crowded and urbanized to be even compared with the Panipat of Imagination. I keep the Panipat of Imagination untouched and move on.

The road to Chandigarh (NH-1) is huge, sometimes three lanes wide. There are lush green fields on both sides almost all throughout. The road is marked with signs of Chow Devi Lal and slogans of Chautala. I hardly had any sleep and the roads with their wide and straight stretches are highly soporific. I find it hard to keep my eyes open. Ambala is 200 km from Delhi. We notice the huge railway yard to the left of the road and the Ambala Cantt to the right. The road gets narrower, has tall trees on both sides and has some character (i.e. some curves!). It is customary that a bee stings Imran every time we go biking. This time it’s even better as two bees bite him at the same time. He screams with agony. We halt at Verka milk outlet, have flavoured milk and ice creams. Imran keeps modulating the screams. We are now 15 km away from Chandigarh. We turn right for Shimla, planning to visit Chandigarh while coming back. We halt at a dhaba on the outskirts of Chandigarh. Bad food, but anything’s good for a hungry stomach. The road takes a slight inclination and we reach Kalka, the base of Shimla hills. The main road through Kalka market is steep uphill and by the time we come out on the other side of Kalka; we see a deep green wall of mountains facing us. The fog on the hilltops makes them look more towering.

The journey here on is beyond description, with the smooth blue road zigzagging upwards and deep valleys on both sides. We pass through Parvanu, a small industrial town. Further up, we see the base of the mountain trolley called Timber Trail. 1.5 hrs on this road and we reach Khandaghat. We leave the main road that goes to Shimla, and take the right turn to Chail. The road gets narrower and more winding. Chail is 37 km from here and the road is simply superb. It winds its way through cedar forests and the chill in the weather suddenly jumps on us, like a white kitten hiding behind a door. Some 2.5 km before Chail, I notice that Imran’s rear tyre is flattened. Thankfully, there is a hotel on the other side of the road, on one side of the valley. The owner of the hotel is a kind old man. He calls up a mechanic in Chail market to find out if the shops are open. We remove the tyre with one collective effort and Imran and Lalit go to the market to get the puncture undone.

I sit in the veranda facing the valley with the hotel owner, with a cup of hot tea in one hand and my sketchbook in the other. The hotel owner, G B Verma, is a retired army chap and has a lot of stories up his sleeves. We talk about life, universe and everything else. He offers me some apples plucked from his own apple orchids. I invite him to Delhi. He smiles and declines. Says he is better off away from the clamour of the metro. Once the two are back, we resume our journey to Chail. It is 5pm by now and positively chilly. There needs alteration to our initial plans of reaching Kufri by evening. Anyway, Chail is so beautiful that it is difficult to let it go behind so easily. Also, Verma has told me that the road to Kufri is very beautiful and if we scale it at night, we’ll lose the fun. We decide to spend the time in Chail. Wise decision in retrospect.

There is a steep uphill road starting from the main mall of Chail and going up in deep green forest, which has a good “road closed” board placed at its beginning. But the sight of the road is so stunning that we cannot resist ourselves and push our machines through the opening. This is perhaps the steepest our bikes have ever scaled. Once on top, we find ourselves near the 75-year old Military school of Chail. Some further steepness takes us to the world’s highest cricket ground (7500 ft). The ground is Military area and properly fenced. But you can see the ground through the barbed door. There is a football ground and a basketball court too. There are a few people playing football and few dogs playing their usual games. We travel back down to the market and then to the famous palace of Chail. It is getting dark by now. There are quite a few visitors strolling the lawns of the palace. The palace is well lit, since it is quite dark by now and fog is setting in the area. The managers mistake us for NRIs, with our bikes and trekking sacks. They are very sorry that it is a busy weekend and they do not have any rooms available. We make sorry faces, make them feel miserable and then walk out, trying hard not to burst out laughing. The tariffs are in the range of Rs. 4000/- per room.

We climb down once again to the market, hunt for a hotel, get a room for Rs. 250/- (this is called really climbing down from the palace!) and then have grub at a decent place and hit the sack. The next I know is Imran calling out my name, for it is 7:30am in the morning. I am positively annoyed at Imran for waking me up so early, but keeping in mind the long day ahead, I know he’s right. So we pack our stuff and get out of the room. The hotel owner is busy in his daily pooja and does not notice us taking our bikes out. I wait for him to finish his pooja and then ask him what he would have done if I had gone off without paying. He smiles and asks me, “How much can you take from me?”. I feel better about life already. I pay him happily and wish him well.

The road from Chail to Kufri (26 km) is heavenly. The cedars are tall and huge. The road is old and unattended. It has patches all over and looks like an old ragged mattress. There is very little conversation among us, for the scenery and the bad road keep us sufficiently pre-occupied. I am filled with unbounded joy and peace. We come across a huge resort at Shilonbagh. We plan to have tea and park our bikes in the porche. The place has a full-fledged buffet breakfast and the managers are ill at ease having three vagabonds asking just for tea. We curse them and they give their well-practiced sugar-coated smiles (meant specially for irate customers). We, in turn, have good fun at nobody’s expense. A five-star hotel that does not even have tea! Bah! (It is a different story that the breakfast, inclusive of tea, along with juices, omelettes and what not, is for 200 bucks).

We near Kufri, just before Kufri, we pass through a wildlife park. The road follows the raised & barbed fences of the park. This part is at 8500 ft, the highest motorable road in this region. I have a strange pressing feeling in my ears. Soon we start the downhill and I feel better. At Kufri, we halt near a small joint, order omelettes and tea. The omelettes take long, but are very good. The bread is especially soft. And the weather is just right for tea. We eat silently sitting on the bikes, facing a valley and the apple orchids in it. The downhill road to Shimla is wider than the road we’ve been travelling since morning. Kufri to Shimla is 16 km and the road is quite pleasant. It scales one mountain range to another and we see the entire loop we’ve covered since yesterday. The first sight of Shimla is obscene and unattractive. Shimla is a city. That too, it is the state capital. So it is as filthy and populated as any other. Only it is built on hills, and so the roads are inclined. There is hardly anything beautiful in Shimla (apart from the native girls, of course). So we speed through the city, drop the idea of visiting the mall as vehicles are not allowed and take the road back to Khandaghat. This road is wide, yet winding. It is fun riding. It is also the scariest part, since the traffic is quite thick here. We reach Khandaghat by 12:30pm and resume the road to Kalka and then Chandigarh.

We reach Chandigarh by 2:30pm. We have a tiny rendezvous with the Chandigarh traffic police. The friendly chat mainly revolves around the fact that we had broken a signal and gone the wrong way of the road. We pose as college students, bail out our sad story and somehow come out of the conversation. No monetary loss, thankfully. We celebrate the success of the trip with some coffee in the Chandigarh Barista. There is hardly any reason for me to mention about the Chandigarh girls, for their fame is well spread. We leave Chandigarh by 3:30pm, with our minds and bodies rejuvenated. Some 10 km before Ambala, we get caught in a torrential rain. The visibility is next to nil and our bikes shake with the heavy wind. We are drenched and as wet as one can be. We ride cautiously at 15-20 kmph. With Ambala behind, the furry of the rain subsides. Another 10-15 mins and the rain stops completely. We have a new problem though… the wind. I am pretty sure by now that all three of us are going to go down with pneumonia by the time we reach Delhi.

We halt at a dhaba where I change into some warm clothes. We have “garam garam” pakodas, daal makhani, rotis and chai. Life is much better now. Dusk sets in soon as we resume our journey. The road, as mentioned before, is wide and straight and therefore rather boring. It is the last lapse that is most tiring in any journey. It is so here too. Kurukshetra – Karnal – Panipat – Sonipat… Problem.

Just after Sonipat, some 30 km before Delhi, Imran’s bike does a jigg at 80 kmph in the middle of the road. Our souls come out of our bodies for a moment and then feeling the cold get back inside. The rear tube burst. We were lucky to find a mechanic just across the road. Another half an hour goes. We reach Noida by 11:30pm on Sunday 18 August 2002, safe and in one piece each. People ask me what our next plans are. They are surely joking. Right now, I just want to sleep… sleep like there is no tomorrow. But I also know that by the time the next weekend comes, the Northern wind will blow once again in our ears and we will be once again out on the roads.

– Shreekant

Mar 27 2008

The AP Triangle – by Ajay Sharma

The AP Triangle:

Well this ride isn’t about a sail in the Bermuda triangle, but still it wasn’t a bit less interesting than that. We have our own AP triangle to travel in Andhra pradesh from Hyderabad. Hyderabad – Nagarjuna Sagar - Srisalem – Hyderabad. A journey in a triangle.

The Preparations:
This ride just happened, like a jiff. My friend was visiting me from Delhi, who is as crazy and as keen on traveling as me, so he wanted me to take him for a ride. Well at that time I had Medak in mind to go, but Anand suggested me to go for a Sagar – Srisalem ride. As it turned out to be, a fellow wanderer Stephen Jhonson also wanted to ride out there. So we decided to hit the road on Saturday, 28th Feb, 2004.

The riders: Ajay, Nishant (pillion) and Stephen Jhonson.

Before We Ride:
Well we all had some work to catch up satruday morning so we had decided to leave by 12.00 noon. But it wasn’t supposed to be that. I had a test cropped up at last minute in college, so I called Stephen that we have to postpone the ride by two hours and we decided to start by 2. But than Jhonny calls up and says he has some work so can make it by 2.30 pm only and finally we both met at the Panjagutta at 3.00 pm. All set to go, as I kicked start my bike, something very strange happened. My 6 years old CAT Shoe gave up. The whole sole came apart turning my shoes into air conditioned and I felt the ground through it. So thus started the great shoe hunt in Hyderabad. As I had just enough dough for the ride, I didn’t wanted to spend on an expensive shoes, so after a lot of searching, finally got a good deal on a bata sports shoes at secenderabad. But this made us awfully late and finally we were able to start from Secunderabad at 4.30 PM.

Way to SAGAR:
As soon as we left behind the crazy traffic of the city, it was fun. I had never been to sagar or salem before. So was quite excited about it as lots of wanderers have done this route and had lots of story to tell. Little did I knew that after this ride I will have my own story to tell, a different one though. We took our first stop 100 kms out of Hyderabad, it was dusk time and I never like to ride at that time as its neither dark nor there is enough light to ride, and its quite irritating to ride with few vehicles with there lights on and few without them. So we decided to have a break and eat at a road side dhaba. We all had a hearty lunch cum snack, though that place had nothing much to offer, but they made excellent egg bhurji, so we just hogged on to Parantha’s and Egg Bhurji. After the dark we resumed again towards sagar, and on the way there was this Honda Passion guy, who over took us both and was quite happy about it. He had his kid behind him as pillion. Me and Jhonny decided to Have some fun with him. We started taking turns to over take him and wait for him to let him overtake us again and lots of time he was in middle of the both the bikes. Sagar road is quite lonely at night and it’s quite scary for a normal person experiencing this, so that guy slowed down or maybe stopped until both of us have disappeared out of sight. Soon we hit the ghats section just before the sagar and boy what fun it is to maneuver through the ghats in night. We thumped into Nagarjuna Sagar at around 9.00 pm and tried to get accommodation in the couple of hotels, but being a weekend all non ac rooms were full and we didn’t wanted to waste our money on an ac room. So we decided to check out one more Hotel on the other side of the dam. But there also, all non ac rooms were full, but we were able to talk that guy into giving us a 100 Rs Student discount 😉 for an ac room.

There was the Moon in the Sky:
After having dinner and freshening up, we all were supposed to sleep as we were a bit tired driving in the night and we wanted to get up early and look around and see the dam. But I had another plan in the mind. There was a lovely moon in the sky and I wanted to see it in the water at the dam. I told Nishant and Jhonny that I m going to the dam, and both of them said “ At this time? Paagal hai tu”. It was around 11.30 in the night at that time. I said I wanna go and enjoy. Well but while I was preparing to leave, they both also got tempted and before we knew all three of us were standing on the dam. It was such a clear and calm water, with the reflection of the moon that it got me spell bounded. I wanted to take my bike down to the water level, but as I didn’t knew the way around that place and really dark couldn’t find a way to go that low, though we tried few of the off roading which lead us to a grave yard, and also asked a guy there about going to the water and he got scared and ran away. Than even tried to go and have a look at that power station but ended up being chased by the security. Took loads of pictures of my bike and jhonny’s TB under the moon, in the night at the dam. We freaked out on the dam till around 1.30 am, and than we decided to head back to room and sleep.

No water and the Water Fall:
I was the last one to wake up the Sunday morning and found, both Nishant and Jhonny all ready and dressed up. I told them to go order for break fast while I take bath and get ready. But as soon as I had applied the soap, the water ran out and there was no water, I had to shout and scream for the hotel people to get some water, while waiting for it, I saw out side the window and was quite irritated to see a huge dam filled with so much water and still there was water problem here. Soon we ate our breakfast and headed for the Ethipothola – the water fall. Its an AP tourism maintained sited with a commanding view of the water fall. A nice place to sit, but a bit commercial for my taste. Jhonny and Nishant wanted to get down in the water 😉 but a certain guy’s advice (crocodiles in water) changed there mind.

Jaana Hai:
It was already 11.00 pm and we were still at Ethipothala. So we decided to hurry up and try to reach sri salem as soon as possible. The stretch from N. Sagar to Srisalem is a very good stretch (though roads are not that good) but they are interior roads and I love interior roads. Lots of small ghati sections. At certain place we found lots and lots of red chillies drying at the fields. So we all stopped for some photo shoots, but jhonny and nishant were more interested in some fresh chillies right from the field. So I think they got around 2 kgs of dried red chillies. Around 85 kms before Sri Salem comes a Hillock very peculiar in shape, like a gumbat of a temple or something. From the road only one can get a commanding view of it. A small photo stop. On the way Jhonny also gave a life to a localite, who lived around 40 kms before Sir – Salem. It sure was hot and I could feel the heat burning my head, but didn’tknew what was store for me next.

The fall of the warrior:
Just 80 kms before the Sri – Salem, we were ripping like hell, as we were in hurry to reach Salem, but suddenly I felt a sharp sting on my right hands thumb. It pained so acutely that while riding only I had to tear open my driving gloves in order to rub it. The bikes came to halt, Jhonny asked what happened, but all I could see on my hand was a large around half inch long sting, I thought it might be a honey bee, maybe with an extra large sting, so I had just put some water and continued again. We reached at kinda foot hill of sri – salem, the place from where the ghat sections start, for next 50 kms till Sri – Salem. This was the place where the localite to whom jhonny gave lift, wanted to get off, it was his village. So he was just bidding good bye and was maybe asking something and nishant was with him, at that time I had to get off my bike, and just had to lie down on the road side. After this, till evening 6 pm I only remember in bits and pieces, later jhonny and nishant told me
about what I had been doing all this while. Well I was asked to lie down in shade; the sting of that insect was quite poisonous. I had rashes and marks all over my arms and chest. They asked me to drink loads of cold water. Later somehow I gathered enough strength to get on my feet and got on my bike. Once on my bike I was feeling comfortable and safe. From here was the ghat section, and well my pillion nishant later told me, that it was the most scariest ride of his life. I was not in my senses and could hardly see or think. He told me I was swaying my bike from left to right and he had to tap me on my shoulder every 30 seconds to ask if I m awake if I m feeling good. This went on till he suddenly jerked my shoulder and I applied my brakes full on, only to see feets away from a drop. I was totally zonked out. I just got off the bike and slept off there at road side. Jhonny and nishant waited for me to get up, they did some walk in the jungle it was around 3.00 pm at that time and later I just remember waking up at a punnami hotel room at 6.00 pm. Nishant told me from that point onwards he drove my bike till all the way to sri salem, and as I wasn’t feeling good they took up the room and I just fell asleep, they had also given me some medicines which I dunno.

Back to Senses:
I woke up at around 6.00 pm, surprised to find myself in a hotel room and jhonny and nishant watching tv. They told me whatever had happened, and I still had this severe head ache. I again slept off for another half an hour, meanwhile I asked jhonny to call up Anand, as he was the only person who knew we were on this ride. After hearing all this anand was at the tenter hook, all worried about us. It was already getting dark, and we were told lots of time earlier not to cross dindi after 9.00 pm in any. Its not safe to do those ghats in night and the naxals roaming that area. So I propsed jhonny and nishant to ride ahead as I m in no state to drive rite now and will come back to hyd next day morning, but they didn’t wanted to leave me back, and nishant had a train early next morning to catch and jhonny office, so well we finally decided to leave by 8.30 pm from sri salem, after I had another bath and some snacks.

A Night at Ghats:
I never knew ghats could be so majestic and commanding at night. Me and Jhonny were riding real close to each other, a small stop over at the sri salem dam was amazing. It was well lit up, and no one was there, it was quite a place to be in night. From here we wanted to go fast till dindi, as we were told that the gate there gets closed after 10.30 pm and it was already 9.30 pm, so we rushed and rushed, but I also wanted to enjoy the jungles and the ghats at night. So we did stopped at some places, and man what a remoteness, it was so quite that once we shut off our bull’s engines, I could here every voice of the jungle. And to add to it, it was kinda spooky too. All in all I cant describe how a night ride to sri salem is. It just amazing.

Back Home:

Untill we crossed dhindi, anand and lison were at the edge of there seats, quite worried. I called them up from dhindi and than they were relieved and assured we gonna make it back alive, and I guess they even popped a bear to celebrate;). We reached back to Hyderabad at 12.45 am, and rushed straight to Bashar restaurant to munch on some biryanis as we had not eaten anything substaintial since breakfast. It
was just amazing, the ride through the AP Triangle – enchanting, thrilling, dangerous and for me lil bad luck. But still I loved that experience.

Mar 27 2008

Jalori Pass over weekend – by Shekhar Patil

Frankly, having read so much about Jalori yet never bothered know at what height it was. I always compared Jalori to Rohtang or other passes on Leh route but less in height. To me a pass meant barren landscape at a height of 3500 mtrs plus. All these myths were broken once I reached Jalori Jot. This is a pass where there is a lots of greenery around you. You are amidst trees through out and except its steep hike (probably steeper than Rohtang) its is easier and very enjoyable. There is something about Jalori which attracts and you want to visit this place again and again. No doubt it is amongst the few rare places left in Himachal untouched by the city revelers visiting the hills in their air-conditioned vehicles. Jalori is still the old world what probably Shimla might have been a century ago. So whoever is reading this and if he /she has not been to Jalori, I strongly recommend to visit it as early as possible, simply because the wind of economic development may reach this part of the world sooner than you can imagine and we will have added another Hill station cum resort in Himalaya.
—-x–x—x–
With over six months without a ride it was mandatory to go somewhere on Holi Weekend that was 22nd and 23rd March 2008. Making sure that my absence for two days is not going to bother any one I decided to go somewhere. Jalori? The thought itself was so exciting but had that apprehension that in two days it surely cannot be done on Bike when a distance was approximately 600km from Noida. Dropped the idea of doing Jalori all together made an alternate plan with the help of dear friend Barfani Baba aka Vivek Sharma who suggested to do Delhi- Solan-Rajgarh-Renuka -Delhi which was doable in two days. Friday was as usual at the office but was free by 4’o’Clock and at home by 4.30. Jalori thoughts were still struggling to overpower the alternate plan. Quickly calculated that if we leave now, at least some time can be saved for the next day ride and it was possible to do Jalori over weekend.A call was made to my 60kph fellow member Shuja (he too wanted desperately to get lost in the hills over weekend) who was taking a good afternoon nap, checked with him if he was ready to start now and he was more than willing. One hour later we were zooming towards the hills on our respective Enfields. By 10.30 at night we had done roughly 200 km which was a good pace. Now that for the next day only 300-450 km was left to do, we decided to take halt for the day. The nearest place where we could find a Hotel was Kurukshetra.
Saturday, 6.30 am we were again on the road and by 10.30 after crossing Solan took our first break for break fast. Almost sure that we can make it to Jalori, decided to go straight towards Shimla rather than taking a right turn towards Rajgarh. The next halt was at Naldehra, no lunch, just the tea and few photographs and we started again.

Before I write further , let me tell you that I didn’t check any map and my knowledge of Jalori was limited to the fact that it lies between Shimla and Manali. I was sure that we will find our way out. While discussing the plan with Baba some how was misunderstood that we have to go via Tattapani so we made our pilgrimage to tattapani, still no lunch but few photos later we were enquiring about the route and no one knew where Jalori was. The road was directing us towards Mandi, we decided to continue and another 50km ride and we attempted for another enquiry at Dharmor and were shocked to know that we have missed the route to Jalori all together. From Naldehra we should have taken the road to Sainz. Ab Kya Karein. Shuja was looking at me as if wanted to eat me alive. Again Baba came to our rescue and offered us another route via Karsog. He informed usthere is a route to Jalori if we take the Rampur Road from Karsog and via Behna,

we can go to Ani and Khanag. It was supposed to be 80-90 km from Kasog. The time was 2.30 pm, Jalori to jaana hai. The plan was changed ,we will ride till we can. Make a halt and next day early morning-do Jalori. By 4.45 pm we were at Ani, 40 km short of Jalori. Checked about Jalori, the tea stall guy showed a mountain quite far away saying at the top of it is Jalori and we can still make it till khanag which has a rest house. Distance to Khanag is 32km. By the time both of us decided to make it to top. Quickly we had our tea (still no lunch) and we were again riding. It was climb all through till khanag and by the time we reached it was already 7 pm. Finally reached the rest house and after lots of buttering the keeper cum chef cum attendant allowed us to stay for the night. Till now I don’t know what height we were at. A casual glance at Rest house plate informed us that we were at 2440 mtr ASL.

Since the original plan was to cross Jalori during day time and stay on the lower side, we didn’t bother to carry any woollen with us except the riding Jackets. I had 3 Tees with me and wore all of them and topped it with Jacket. The buttering and some tip made the trick. Chain Ram ji became very friendly and served us with hot fulkas straight from the angithi and we had our dinner served hot.

Didn’t kept any count but both of us must have finished over 20 chapaties. Next day (Sunday) we were at Jalori after a 5 km very steep and phadu ride. And it was worth all the pain we took to reach there. Spent sometime at the top with lots of snow around.

The time was to start our return journey and target was to reach home by late evening. We started our descent via Banjar-mandi towards Delhi. After riding 575 kms through out the day we were finally at home by 11.00 in the night same day.

Ride dates: 21st-23rd March 2008
Riders: Shekhar and Shuja
Route: Delhi-Kalka-Solan-Shimla-Naldehra-Tattapani-Ani-Khanag-Jalori-Banjar-Mandi-Delhi
Total distance covered: 1175 kms
Total Expenses incurred per head: Rs. 1900/- including Petrol

Your link to photographs

http://www.flickr.com/photos/shekharpatil/sets/72157604260161463

Mar 27 2008

Romancing my Cinderella – by Amandeep Saini

Right from the day I brought home Cinderella, I’ve had an undying urge to take her on long rides. I had done the anniversary ride with the RoyalBeasts, which was a 200 kms ride for me as I stay in one corner of Delhi and the party was on the other end of the metro. Anyways, on the 1st of October, I finally decided to go on a long ride on Bapu’s anniversary the next day. That was the day when the other RoyalBeasts were to head for Kinnaur on a 4-day ride. I had to sacrifice that ride on the alter of family commitments. So I decided on a ride all alone. On the eve of my ride, I checked the bike, topped up the oil and then tried hard to sleep. I couldn’t untill almost midnight, as I was too excited about my first long ride alone. All alone!

I got up at 4:30 in the morning all excited and in about half an hour I was all set to go. A 5:10 a.m. I left home wearing a windcheater as it had become a bit cold in the mornings recently. Till Faridabad I maintained a constant speed of 60-65 and by the time I reached Ballabgarh, the sun was already shining down on me.

I had thought of taking my Discman along but then dropped the idea. I told myself that instead I’d just listen to Cinderella. Believe me, this babe sure has a bewitching voice. And it’s all you want to hear on the road, every note, every tenor thrilling you no end. I recalled the very first ride with Cinderella when I was quite new to the Royal Enfield family and the immense delight that transported me to a world of my own.

NH 2 is beautiful, simple and straight. I maintained a constant speed of 80-85 and in between hit 100 too. There wasn’t much traffic on the highway. I had done this strip a number of times by car before. But believe me, it’s a different story doing it on Cinderella. I was amazed when I hit the highway, the endless stretch of road, the green fields on either side…and the voice of Cinderella cutting through…it was magical.

The last time when I went to Agra in my car, I had to pay a toll at Palwal. Keeping this in mind, I kept money handy in my shirt pocket and stopped at Palwal tollgate only to be told that the toll was for four-wheelers alone. Hurrah!

At the Haryana-U.P. border, there was a long traffic jam with numerous trucks and cars waiting impatiently. I found that I could negotiate through the gaps between cars and trucks. Soon, Cinderella was again ahead of all the traffic after manoeuvring through the jam with ease. From the border till about Kosi, there was nobody on the road thanks to that pileup I’d left behind. Even as I write this, I remember doing that stretch vividly… it was simply amazing.

I reached Vrindavan at 7:35 am and promptly went to ISKCON first and then on to Bihari ji’s mandir. I came back to the ISKCON restaurant for my breakfast and left Vrindavan at 9:00 am. On my way back I did not halt in between at any dhaba. I entered Faridabad by 10:30 am and from there it took me one hour in the usual Delhi traffic to get back home.

That was a real good ride, my first one alone. It revved up my confidence in Cinderella. I’m sure I’ll be doing much longer rides on this babe soon.

Route: Delhi – Vrindavan – Delhi.
Odo reading at start: 7890 kms.
Odo reading at end: 8181 kms.
Total distance covered: 291 kms.
Starting time: 05.10 IST.
End Time: 11.30 IST.
Total riding time: 5 hours.
Time spent off the bike: 1.5 hours.

Mar 25 2008

Anniversary Ride : The Dangs – by Mandeep

A strange but known feeling goes through my body and I open my eyes with a start, just to remember that it is only the cool water from the showerhead. “Was it two days ago?” I try to remember when we last had a bath. As I work up a good lather and get under the shower again, the heat, the dust and the grime of the last two days washes off and it feels like if there was heaven anywhere in the universe or out of it, it was right here, in my bathroom, under my shower. Remembering the two days gone by brings a smile to my face (I noticed it in the reflection on the bathroom mirror that I was smiling) and I start toweling myself dry. This has been the fifth long ride through the bamboo and teakwood forests of The Dangs (9th for me, including two camping trips and a couple of one day flybys). The idea started somewhere in April last year when we were looking for a riding destination where we could freak out without any need to worry about the continuous ringing of the cell phones and the piling workload in our respective offices and workshops. I had done the Dangs quite often earlier and not knowing what response I would get, I suggested it as a probable ride destination. Zenosh had been through the area earlier and he seconded me and that was that. The ride was finalized; we had a hell lot of fun during that ride and three more rides later on in the same year. In short, everyone was hooked. We wanted to do a final ride of the season before summer set in its full glory and it was too hot to move outside. We also wanted to do an anniversary sort of thing to commemorate the first Dang ride we had done. So when I put up the suggestion of another ride through Dangs last month, the group responded with a positive attitude. Lots of deliberations, yeses and nos and maybes later Anshuman, Chandraprakash, Gaurav and I were the final list. Aviral had yessed, then noed, then maybed and then yessed and then noed again. Uncertain as ever. Rocky had exams so it wasn’t possible for him to ride. Others had commitments at work, as it was the end of the financial year. Compromises were made but the ride was on. Anshuman had to come to his sasural to visit. And it was decided that he would be here on the evening of 24th. Chandraprakash (CP) was supposed to be at home with his family in Barmer, Rajasthan to celebrate holi as this was the first time his dad was in India on a festive occasion. On the 16th he called up his folks in Rajasthan and told them that he had exams during the holi and wouldn’t be able to join them. He was in for the ride. I, as usual, had to ride just for the hell of it. There was too much fuel in the tank making me uncomfortable. Even the bike was itching to do a high-speed stint so that it could breathe freely on long winding roads rather than suffocate in the city traffic. Just a few days earlier CP’s bike had started behaving strangely. We decided to check it out. Prevention is better than cure. But when we opened up the head there was nothing to be prevented. The damage had already been done. Not by CP but by the mechanic whom we trusted. He had done up CP’s engine just 3000 kilometers back and it was already showing signs of damage. On closer inspection we came to know that not only the mechanic had done a bad job on the engine, he had also swapped good parts and put in damaged or old ones. Even the piston was an old third oversize seized one in an over-bored standard block. The floating bush had floated to heaven and the bearings were shot to hell. We decided to try to do up the engine ourselves. After all we were just going to replace all the bad stuff. But then we decided to entrust this job to my old mechanic who had done up my 500’s engine about 6 months back. We went looking for him and fixed up a day when he would come to my place and open up the engine at my home itself. We had to get him the parts and he would ensure that it was money well spent. We agreed and he completed the job on the 22nd evening. We had a dilemma. The weather was bad real hot and the engine was new. We started deliberating whether to take the bike on the ride or leave it at home and run it in at leisure. The ride got better of us and throwing caution to the wind we decided to take the bike. Anshuman and I agreed to ride slowly and keep CP in our rear views all the time. The evening of the 24th arrived and we were waiting for Anshuman to arrive. He called up to say that he had had a small spill, nothing serious, near Navsari and was taking care of it. We asked him if he needed help, we would ride down and put everything in order but he said everything was ok. We decided to wait at Hotel Valsad for him and gave him the info. An hour later Anshuman arrived and after a short chai session we were off to the World Famous Now in India Hotel Satnam. CP hadn’t had anything since the morning breakfast and Anshuman had a long ride behind him to make both of them hungry. Half a dozen alu and gobhi parathas and half a kg of dahi later everyone was fit enough to reach my place, the stop for the night. Anshuman also brought bad but expected news. Gaurav, as usual, wouldn’t come for the ride. Something important had come up at the last moment that couldn’t be avoided. CP said he’d have a pillion. We decided I would carry the pillion and CP would travel light with a little luggage. Most of the luggage would be on Anshuman’s bike as he had a luggage rack fitted. Until this moment the route for the ride was not even discussed once. An old phrase came to mind “Sometimes the destinations are not important, but the ride is.” At home we packed our stuff. We took as little as we could to avoid loads, just the bare essentials. A change of t-shirts, oil for the bike, sleeping bags, light windcheaters, cash and cameras. The morning of 25th arrived with a clear blue sky and cool gusts of wind. We got ready and had a nice breakfast of alu subzee and pooris, complementing it with chai. Picking up our stuff we went down the staircase to the garage and started loading the bikes when CP called and said he was waiting for us downstairs. He also had brought the cameras with him. We asked him to come inside so that we could load the stuff and have a final check of the bikes. Anshuman’s bike had some clutch problems and had an idling difficulty. I adjusted the carb a bit and the idle held better. A cursory glance at CP’s and my bike and we were ready to ride. Then the bombshell dropped. CP introduced us to his pillion. NIMBARAM or NIMBA. A good guy at heart who wont speak unless he had a comment to make and that too a nasty one. That’s when the legend of Nimba was born. I took him pillion and Anshuman and I raced off to the petrol pump while CP followed with Gaurav and Sandeep who saw us off till Dharampur. We headed off to Dharampur. The roads as usual were deserted and beautiful with the scent of mangoes in the air. The orchards lining both the sides of the roads threw a much-appreciated shade on the roads. We rode at a leisurely pace of 50 to 60 kmph, taking in the greenery and the morning cool. In a couple of hours was going to get hot. A few kilometers later, Anshuman and I decided to speed ahead and take some photos while CP chugs along with Gaurav and Sandeep. Some kilometers down the road we stopped and started the mandatory photo session, the first of this ride. I don’t know whether there is something in the road or what but no matter how fast or how slow you ride, you are in Dharampur in 20 minutes. And so was the case this time. We parked by the roadside at a chai tapri and ordered chai for everyone, while CP and Nimba went crazy over bananas. A short photo session later, Sandeep and Gaurav bid us goodbye and after the mandatory ride safe advises we left for Wilson hill while Sandeep and Gaurav raced back to Valsad. Wilson hill is a toughie, with 11 loops that go round and round. The roads are bad but it has to be done just for the sheer fun of doing it. And the views from various stops along the route are fantastic. We reached the starting point of the hill and started riding a bit slowly as we didn’t want CP’s bike to suffer. But there was a kahani mein twist here. CP’s bike was doing great. It was Anshuman’s bike that was overheating. So we waited at the end of the 4th hairpin for the bikes to cool down. A few sips of water for all of us and sutta for Anshuman and CP. I took some photos with the handycam and tried out the 16x zoom that was impressive. Someone had dropped a couple of eggs there and their shells had broken up. We noticed them only when CP was sitting on the rocky ledge above them. We made a huge story out of it and called them CP ke ande. This got CP very worked up while Nimba enjoyed it a lot. After some more bickering around we decided to quit Wilson hill and go to Vansda and have lunch there and plan out our next step. All agreed. The ride to Vansda was uneventful. The soft curves of the road were as inviting as ever and throwing the bike into a corner and seeing the other two bikes behind me imitating the same motion in tandem was hypnotizing. Took a lot of photos along the way and stopped quite often. It was noon and the heat was hot. Any spot of shade was a welcome recluse from the sun beating on us. We reached Vansda by lunchtime and heaved a sigh of relief. Anshuman’s bike was causing some problems and we wanted to get it checked from a mechanic. Looking around we were directed to one but, it was holi and the mechanic was closed for the day. We decided to have lunch first and go to Vansda town to see if someone would help us out. Lunch was good and after relaxing again for the umpteenth time we proceeded to Vansda to hunt for the mechanic. Holi and weekend meant that Vansda was celebrating. Roadside stalls of various local items, imitation jewellery that even Bhappi Lahiri wouldn’t have seen in his wildest dreams and goggles to put Govinda to shame were being sold. Locals dressed in the traditional outfits were performing some sort of dances and a procession was going round. We asked around for some mechanic and a kindly soul led us to a bullet specialist’s home. The guy, Usman bhai was there and while Anshuman went back on foot to take some photos of the locals, we explained to him what was wrong with the bike. He took a test ride and asked us to follow him to his garage. He would open it up and do all that was required at the garage as he had all the tools there. We had a tool kit and we offered him to use it but he politely refused saying he could work better at the garage. We followed him and were surprised to find that this was the same guy to whose garage we had been earlier and found it closed. So after a chai he started working on the bike. The tappets were too tight and the clutch too loose and he adjusted them both. Anshuman took a test ride and we took some pictures. Satisfied with his work, we asked him how much we owed him. The good soul refused any money and said that today was a chhutti and chhutti ke din hum kisi se paise nahin lete. No matter how hard we tried, he didn’t accept a single paisa from us. In the meanwhile we got talking about where we were going and what our plans were. I asked him who the range forest officer for Vansda was these days. It looked like it was our lucky day. We knew the range forest officer very well and not only that, just as we were talking about him, his driver came to get some stuff. I introduced myself and he remembered me from my days at the Tata workshop. He gave us some tips about who to meet at Vansda national park and how to go about getting the permission as the range forest officer had gone home for holi. We thanked him and raced off to Vansda national park. Jayantibhai, the national park gate incharge and Faruq, the chicken swindler, met us at the gate. His eyes started shining as he saw potential customers ready to be swindled and imagined his own plate full of chicken leg pieces, which he had cheated us of. We didn’t want to have chicken for dinner. It was too hot for chicken. Jayanti bhai told us to meet Mr. Bamaniya at the timber depot in Waghai village and he would provide us the use of the campsite with the machan and entry to the national park, we thanked him and headed for the timber depot. The district forest officer and the assistant conservator of forests had paid a surprise visit and Mr. Bamaniya was busy covering up his problems. We waited outside for the DFO to leave. Passed the time clicking photos. A guard came to ask us whom we wanted to meet and when we told him, he took us to him. When we requested him to grant us permission for the campsite and a visit to the national park, he started asking us foolish questions, but luckily the ACF was an educated and a reasonable man and he actually ordered Mr. Bamaniya to grant us a written permission for everything we asked for. After thanking the ACF profusely, we went to get the written permission inside the office. Not to be intimidated, Bamaniya started his nonsensical questions charade once again. Why we wanted to visit the national park, why we wanted to sleep at the campsite in the machan only, why we were traveling on bullets in this hot weather through Dangs, these were some of his questions we tried to answer sincerely. He asked for some identification and I showed him my WWF membership card. Then I let the bomb fall. We had been coming here since the last 8 year and were in constant touch with Mr. Barad, Mr. Pandya, Mr. Joshi and Mr. G. I. Naik, the chief conservator of forests himself. This seemed to do the trick and we were out of his office with the written permission within five minutes. While we were coming down from the village, we saw Jayanti bhai going some place and assuming safely that it would be some time before he got back to his post, we decided to go to the Gira Falls. Gira falls do look wonderful during and after the monsoons, with lush greenery all round but they are amazing with the onset of summer. The trees and the grass on the surrounding hillocks had dried up and there was no water at the waterfall. The tourist season is almost over for this place. So we took our bikes right to the top where we got the best view all around. Parking our bikes we decided to do a short trek to the other side and see how the surroundings looked from the other side, a different perspective. The trek did us good. Loosened up the stiffened limbs and a chance to go somewhere we wouldn’t have gone otherwise. The view from the riverbed was amazing. We saw parts of the forests surrounding us we had never seen. The sunset and the moonrise began all at once and it was one of the most beautiful scenes we had ever seen except for dating some supermodels or driving fancy cars or riding super bikes in our dreams. We clicked photos like mad, to capture all this beauty in the cameras we carried. It would be quite a long time before we returned to this place and till then it would have a different character, lots of changes would take place, just like we change continuously. A strange but comfortable closeness arises when you think of the similarities between a human being and nature and gradually you begin relaxing and feeling at home. We felt at home too. Realizing it was getting dark, we hurried back to our motorcycles and were ready to ride off to the gates of the national park, but not before we took a handful of pics again. Then off we were to meet Jayantibhai and make our arrangements for the night and the next morning. Jayantibhai to our disappointment was not back but the guard, as it was holi and he was fully drunk, claimed that he was the king of this area as of now until the hangover went away and he and only he could approve us whether to stay at the campsite and visit the forests in the morning or not. I quietly told him that I knew where the Incharge Officer, Bamaniya Saab lived and I would be glad to fetch him and bring him here and show him your condition. Listening to this he was all ears and started supporting us and talking in friendly terms. But again there was a problem, his drunken senses didn’t let him understand what the written permission contained and he insisted that this was a permission only for three people and we were four so he wouldn’t be breaking the rules by allowing one extra person. It took a long time to convince him of the contents of the letter and finally he saw the light and agreed. While leaving I put 30 bucks in his pocket and he even wished us good morning and sleep well. Laughing, we left for the campsite. Doing the dirt tracks at night is one of the most wonderful forms of riding a motorcycle. Especially when the track leads to your bedroom is 2 kilometers long, has a full moon shining and reflecting in the river on one side and the forest on the other side. We did a slow run absorbing the beauty of the night by the gallonful into our minds and hearts and reached the campsite where we went straight to the machans. A familiar voice, one that I had heard many times earlier greeted us and I realized it was Mandu, our guide during all our previous rides and the caretaker of the campsite. After the usual greetings and hellos we showed him the permission letter and asked him about the sleeping arrangements. It was a bargain. 200 bucks for one tent. The tent included gadda, takiya and rajais. We ditched the tents in favor of the machan and within no time Mandu and his helper had all our luggage untied and stowed away at the top of the machan and the bedding laid out invitingly. But we still had one job pending, dinner. While we were getting ready to go for dinner, Jayantibhai came personally and asked us if everything was fine and up to our expectations. We thanked him profusely and asked him to join us for dinner but he politely declined. His family was waiting for him. Mandu had the same reason though we managed to rope him in for the morning breakfast. We rode off for dinner. Alu parathas, paavbhaji and poha for dinner followed by chai for dessert with lots of leg pulling in between and we were back at the campsite to sleep. As we climbed the machan, the full moon was illuminating everything in its full glory and we couldn’t help but click some photos. Nimba discovered that only the on button of Anshu’s Discman was damaged and if he held the button continuously it would work ok. We went crazy with the logic and laughed. We were amazed at his prowess in sleeping. We continued for some more time about this and that and when the conversation steered towards English novels and films, CP went to sleep. Anshuman and I were still awake and suddenly with a sudden burst of energy Anshuman started singing and shaking CP and Nimba awake. CP got up with a start like he had been slapped hard and Nimba didn’t even budge. His snoring continued. After some foot tapping Nimba Ho Ho Ho singing we gave up and the three of us kept talking till each of us dozed off into a comfortable slumber. The dawn came up a bit chilly and as we came out of our blankets and stood on the machan shivering a little we took in the campsite bit by bit. I had been there a lot of times before, but Anshuman and CP were really impressed. The morning began with an unmissable and ever-present photo session. Then we headed off to the bathrooms to freshen up and get ready to take over the forest trails. CP and Anshu wanted to have tea first so they headed off towards the restaurant while Nimba and I brushed our teeth and washed our faces. Leaving the luggage on the machan we decided to join CP and Anshuman and have breakfast. Nature has a way of making u feel real hungry and that’s what we were feeling. Ready to tackle a grizzly with our bare hands we headed off to have breakfast. While we enjoyed Poha and tea, Anshu and CP came back to refresh themselves and came back with Mandu. After all of us were satisfied and our stomachs full we headed to the national park. Taking the fee receipt and paying the entry fee took 10 minutes. the same guard who was the king last night did the honors and he didn’t forget the money I had put in his pocket. He overlooked the cameras and even the bikes making out the receipt for only 4 people who were trekking through the forests. After thanking him we kicked the beasts to life and thumped our way slowly to the mango orchard in the middle of the forest, which would be our first stop inside the forest. The trees had shed their leaves and it was early morning so heat wasn’t such a big issue. Here and there clusters of bamboo stood, waiting their turn to dry up as the earth lost its moisture. Some brave teakwood trees with their feet in the water and heads in the skies were still green, having reached some source of water that would sustain them for a few days more. The others looked at them with some admiration and some jealousy. But it is the way of nature. Forest fires had been started in some areas in a controlled manner and large areas earlier covered with grass were now just flat grey plains littered with the ashes of the burnt grass and shrubs, which would serve as a fertilizer as the rains came making the forests the greenest of green once again and rejuvenating the drying flora. We took all this in with a barely suppressed admiration of the strange ways of nature and rode on shaking our heads in wonderment. At the wadi, Dasru the caretaker welcomed us as usual. I’ve been here many times and know him personally. We’ve even slept in his thatched hut and he has been more than happy to kill his private chicks for us for dinner when we were tired of the camp food. His eyes crinkle at the sides and his smile creases his ebony face as he shakes hands with us. He is in a bit of a hurry and asks us if it would be fine if he couldn’t join us. We let him go his way and we trudged to the river bank at the bottom of the wadi traveling over a time worn path, now filled with leaves of bamboo and teak trees which form a mosaic of golden, sepia, brown and green like a welcome carpet for some important visitors. The site of water was welcome to all of us and soon we were removing our shoes to dip our feet in the cool water of the river. Anshuman and I went to the other side and clicked some mandatory images while CP and Nimba dry cleaned themselves as best as they could. A couple of hours later we decided to ride down the other couple of trails around the forest and then have lunch and head for Mahal, our stop for that night. The trails were hypnotizing with the trees having shed almost all of their foliage. We had a clear view up to very good distances. Only the crunch of the leaves as our tires went over them, the muted thump of the bullets and a steady clatter of loose tappets accompanied us as we picked our way through unearthed stones and fallen branches. The birds kept a running commentary for the information of other spectators who were monitoring our progress remotely somewhere. We stopped at a couple of places to click the langurs who seemed to be everywhere except where our cameras were pointed. They made a hell of a ruckus and shrieked and ran away no matter how softly we tried to reach them. The jungle does have ears. We reached the watchtower where the forest guys climb to see the progress of the forest fires and took in the view around. Then we came down and took a detour to another trail, which led us to a village some 5 kilometers inside the forest. A Parsi who runs a school there welcomed us and we had the sweetest tasting and the coolest water there. His house was strongly built of bamboos, mud and teak rafters and was a cool respite from the heat that had entrapped itself in the forests. We sat there for some time and just let our bodies and bikes cool. Then we started back the way we came to come out of the national park and have lunch and head off to Mahal before it got too late. Coming back to the campsite where we had slept for the night we settled the dues and gave something extra to Mandu who was all over us and started for the restaurant. After a semi lunch sort of thing, we headed off to Waghai to top up our fuel tanks and run off. CP’s ORIGINAL machismo seat clamp broke and he tied it with Anshu’s Bhangi Cord. Mr. Barad, the old RFO of Vansda had been transferred to Kalibel and we were anxious to meet him as he would be our support to get us accommodation at Mahal forest rest house for the night. The afternoon heat was shimmering in waves on the road and after a couple of bends we came to a fork in the road. We took the upper road and soon we were at a place from where the road we were going to take was clearly visible. We took some photos while CP and Nimba strutted around half naked, changing their clothes. This is where Nimba revealed the innermost and the most feared secret of his torn ganji. After this brief rest session and a few sips of water we started for Mahal again. A few kilometers uphill and CP sounded his horn. We stopped and he said he felt his bike was losing power and overheating. Being cautious as he was running it in, we stopped again and shared jokes and viewed the photos taken earlier on the handycam. Then we started again and took the turn to Kalibel. The heat was increasing by the minute and we didn’t want to stress the bikes so we stopped again after some kilometers and decided to wait out the heat a couple of hours. CP produced Five Star bars from his saddlebags and we chewed on them gratefully and took long swigs of lukewarm water and dozed a little. A strong and hot whirlwind blew by waking us up and we decided it was time to move. The temperature had dropped a bit and we were feeling refreshed. We chugged towards Kalibel and entered the village at a sedate pace. The village was empty due to the holi and a few hombres were loitering around. We asked the direction to the forest office and on reaching there asked for the concerned person. Bad luck he was not there and we were told to head off to Kalibel check post where someone might be able to tell us something. Keeping our fingers crossed we headed off to the check post. A few kilometers later we were at the check post and we were told that he had left for his hometown just a couple of hours ago. Disheartened by our bad luck we decided to have something to eat and we could do the rest later as we were hungry. The nearest place where we could find something edible was Vyara, which was 30 kilometers away. Having no other options we headed to vyara. Moods spoilt, we were stopped by kids asking for money due to the holi. They had blocked the way with bamboos and would throw color on you if you didn’t pay up. Seemed like CP was the worst affected. As soon as the kids demanded money CP jumped off the bike, put it on the stand and went to the nearest kid who was holding a jar of colored water in his hands. CP snatched the jar from him and ran after him like death incarnate. The kids were so scared that they dropped the bamboo and raced off to their respective homes. Hoping not to make a big scene out of it we revved up our bikes and raced off from there. We reached Vyara and were hunting for a restaurant where we could get something to eat, when suddenly Anshuman spotted a sugarcane juice stall and we all halted there for a glass of refreshing fresh juice. It was three glasses later that we posed the million-dollar question to the juice stall owner, was there a restaurant where we could get some food?? While Anshuman switched on his phone. The phone started going crazy with all the sms that had not been delivered. Anshuman checked them and gave us the good news that a big contract had been finalized by his partner and the bad news that he was needed in Ahmedabad as soon as possible. Now this was a brain twister. On one hand we had this wonderful trip and on the other hand Anshuman had this really really good contract. Forests can be visited again. A gone contract is a bad thing. We decided to cut the trip short and headed to Valsad where Anshuman could pick up his luggage and head off to Ahmedabad. To make this trip worthwhile in the last moments, we took a different road that passes through Bhenskatri and emerges in Waghai village. All thought of food was abandoned as we raced the sun to reach Valsad. Anshuman’s headlight bulb had given away and only one filament was working. As the weather was getting cooler we picked up a bit of speed and hit Waghai at a dead run. The market was open so we decided to take a breather. There was chicken biryani being sold right in front of us so Anshu and I ordered a plate each and CP and Nimba went to search for something vegetarian. Just as we were discussing about CP and Nimba having raw baingans and pattagobhi, they emerged satisfied with something good they had. We ordered a round of lassi and after the glassful disappeared everybody looked like the cat that had eaten all the malai from someone’s kitchen and was smiling to itself. For the first time in the whole day we could think straight. Paying up for the lassi and biryani we raced off towards Valsad. At Dharampur we stopped for a chai and called up Sandeep and Gaurav to come to Satnam dhaba where we would have dinner together. They agreed. When we came out from Dharampur a puny biker with triple seats started racing us. First we didn’t mind, but then Anshu’s headlight went off completely and this guy started doing dangerous things like overtaking us wildly and slowing down abruptly. My 500 has an exhaust leak somewhere and whenever I hit 110 and let the throttle off suddenly it gives a loud bang accompanied by a ball of fire. I didn’t tell anyone about it but told Anshu to be ready to follow me as I start racing with these idiots. Anshu agreed and soon I was picking up speed. The clutch had gotten quite free and was slipping like hell so I said whatever happens I am gonna scare the daylights out of these guys. So I throttled up the bike as much as I could. As the clutch slipped the bike gathered rpm but moved sluggishly. The guys thought that bike mein dum nahin hai and were just starting to get happy when the 500 shot out like a real bullet from a rifle and off I was whisking right by them, Anshu in tow. These guys got the adrenalin rush and started picking up the pace. Just as I crossed 110. I noticed that these guys were just some hundred meters behind me, I suddenly let the throttle off and the flash bang happened. It was enough to scare these buffoons and while we laughed our way to Valsad, they were not to be seen again. We stopped at a bridge to take some parting shots when we saw the headlights of a motorcycle approaching. We waited to see and these were the same guys. After the blast they had stopped somewhere so that they could let us pass off and they could come easily. The blast had really shaken them up. We decided to have some fun and let them pass a good distance. Then we started the whole thing again and flash banged them once more. They were so frightened that we didn’t see them after that. At Valsad, we were greeted by Sandeep and Gaurav and when we told them about the incident they went crazy laughing. We raced off to Satnam dhaba for dinner and talked a lot of nonsense on the way. After dinner all of us headed to my place where we uploaded the pics to my computer and viewed them nicely for the first time. After that CP left for Daman with Nimba and Anshuman packed his bags for his ride to Ahmedabad the next day. We slept a satisfied sleep and woke up at 6 am the next morning. I woke Anshuman up and after a cup of tea went down with him to load his bike and perform some final checks. Everything ok he started the bike and let it warm. After the mandatory and heartfelt ride safe, I watched Anshuman take a left and merge with the early morning traffic.

Mar 25 2008

Nothing Can Beat……

– Nothing can beat, bunking office for a ride,
– Nothing can beat, when you plan an early morning start but start at 8.30 a.m.,
– Nothing can beat, when u apply sun screen lotion on your arms but forget the face,
– Nothing can beat, when u touch the highway and your frustration gets blown away by the hot summer wind,
– Nothing can beat, when u stop for a cold Lassi after that,
– Nothing can beat, when your rear wheel goes flat at 90kph and nothing happens to you,
– Nothing can beat, when u ride more than 100 kms in one go,
– Nothing can beat, when u stop for water and a stranger offers you a chilled Pepsi,
– Nothing can beat, the first sight of mountains after doing 250 kms of hot summer riding,
– Nothing can beat, when you start riding on the Ghats with one eye on the road and the other on the beautiful landscape,
– Nothing can beat, when you stop for lunch at 5.00 in the evening,
– Nothing can beat, when you reach your planned destination without any hitch,
– Nothing can beat, when you look for accommodation and find no hotels,
– Nothing can beat, when you lose your camping gear,
– Nothing can beat, when a bottle of whisky fetches you a VIP room from a PWD caretaker,
– Nothing can beat, when you see a beautiful girl sitting on your bike,
– Nothing can beat, when she gives you a smile,
– Nothing can beat, chilled beer under the stars watching the full moon rising from ‘Choordhar’ peaks,
– Nothing can beat, peaceful sleep,
– Nothing can beat, returning through unknown routes with no traffic,
– Nothing can beat, riding on bad stretches,
– Nothing can beat, when the locals say the bad stretches are for just 2 kms but they actually stretch to 14 kms,
– Nothing can beat, when some one shows you a shortcut that saves you 40 kms,
– Nothing can beat, when you find routes more beautiful than your imagination,
– Nothing can beat, when you decide to comeback again,
– Nothing can beat, when you reach home safely and your wife welcomes you.

– Nothing can beat, Himachal Pradesh,

– Nothing can beat, a Lonely Ride.

– Nothing can beat, the ROYAL ENFIELD BULLET
Ride (740 kms): Delhi -Rajgarh – Baru Sahib -Delhi

Mar 25 2008

The Pleasure……..

The pleasure is when you finish your day ride, and reach in one piece. You are the smallest vehicle on the road, and you survived.
The pleasure is when you take off your wristwatch, and see a band of untanned skin.
The pleasure is when your motorcycle and you move as one single united form. Whatever shape the road takes, whichever end of the compass it leads to.
The pleasure is when you use your hands, arms, thighs, knees and feet to steer.
The pleasure is when you take off your riding jacket for a break and feel the breeze dry your sweat.
The pleasure is when you sing to yourself on an empty road. You are the world’s best rock star.
The pleasure is when your rear wheel slides and you bring it back, when the front wheel lifts and you take your time bringing it back.
The pleasure is when you cut through air, at 50 kph or 100.
The pleasure is when you reach a place you never been before, and someone you have never seen before asks you for a ride. And comes back grinning.
The pleasure is when you wave to village kids, and they wave back.
The pleasure is when you almost, almost fall. But don’t.
The pleasure is when you fight the wind, and win.
The pleasure is when you get up that narrow path for the view you never forget.
The pleasure is when you view the world at an angle.
The pleasure is when you eat bugs at 90 kph.
The pleasure is when you look at a dust-streaked face in the mirror after a 500 km ride, and don’t want to wash up.
The pleasure is when your pillion moves with you.
The pleasure is when you can see the petrol after a top-up.
The pleasure is when your throttle hand has calluses.
The pleasure is when you jump a speed breaker.
The pleasure is when you stop to help push a stranded car to the side of the road.
The pleasure is when you stop at the smallest of towns, and somebody asks you technical specifications.
The pleasure is when your book of roadmaps gets dog-eared, rain-splashed, tea-stained.
The pleasure is when you give a stranger a lift.
The pleasure is when you have battle-scars.
The pleasure is when you can feel the cool morning and the hot afternoon, the light rain and the damp fog.
The pleasure is when you leave four-wheeler traffic standing in a jam.
The pleasure is when you aren’t lulled by an air-conditioner.
The pleasure is when you are free. Open. Independent. Liberated.
The pleasure is a royal Enfield Bullet.