Riding on a Bullet Thunderbird: Bangalore – Coorg – Kasaragod
On a sunny afternoon, in a time when winter was just making way to the hotter days, I took off from Bangalore on a bulky and noisy Bullet Thunderbird and headed towards Madikeri. Making my way slowly through the city traffic – thankfully I live at the edge of the town – I progressed towards Mysore Road in anticipation of the long ride ahead.
View Bengalore – Coorg – Kasargod in a larger map
Map and driving directions: Bangalore to Coorg and Kasaragod
Everyone tested my patience for the first fifteen minutes – the hot afternoon sun, the long waits at the signal, noise from the engines of BMTC buses that waited after me, the honking of impatient drivers in yellow numbered cabs and the auto-rickshaws that cut into my lane. I struggled past the crowds, balancing the huge bike that weighed three times my body. In the days of agile modern bikes that slipped through the traffic, getting on the Bullet felt like riding an ancient giant that has refused to come of age. It is supposed to be an ultimate symbol of manhood and make you feel macho and cool etc etc etc, but for someone who weighs 60 kilos and is used to going around in a lesser automobile, it is more like riding a bull gone out of control. And when the time comes to park on a rushed road that requires lot of squeezing in very small parking spaces, I am a worried man. But then, for this long journey I was about to make, there wasn’t much of choice but to endure the bull or suffer backaches and fatigue in a smaller metal horse. I chose the bull.
My first pit stop came quicker than I expected on sighting a tender coconut vendor. As I parked next to him and asked for the sweet water, a quick conversation ensued with another man with a brand new Thunderbird who had stopped to buy tender coconut and found some brotherhood in a fellow rider. Toys often help make friends. “Going on a trip..? Where..? By yourself..? Good! I am totally bored, I need to do something..” – “full bejaaragogide saar..”
Soon after filling up with tender coconut, I was off on wide roads without much traffic, cruising past Kanakapura Road, past the smooth toll road that links with Mysore road, past an accident that created a temporary traffic jam at Kengeri, and then Bidadi and Ramanagar. The uneventful ride on the two lane highway must have lasted less than an hour before it was lunch time. Lunch happened at Kamat Lokaruchi – the much appreciated and sought after place on the Bangalore – Mysore highway. Only five years back, Kamat was the only decent restaurant in the 140km long stretch. There must be hundred places now, but Kamat continues to draw crowds like then always did. I ordered their trademark Jolada Rotti Oota – the delicacy of North Karnataka – for lunch and followed up with ice-cream dipped Basundi for desserts. Delicious!
Another long and stretch of tide followed, taking me through Mandya and Maddur to Srirangapatna through the monotony of the plains. The rewards of the ride started showing up when I turned off from the highway after Srirangapatna, where fresh green saplings of paddy painted the earth pretty. It was beyond 4pm and I had much of the road to cover before evening, but the superb greenery would not let me go past without a short break for some pictures.
Turning off from Bangalore – Mysore highway, the road gets smaller and emptier for next 20 minutes. The small road has a lot more excitement and life built into it with its lush green fields, farmers treading back and forth in bullock carts and waterways of irrigation channels crisscrossing the landscape. Further on, it is back to a wide four-lane road on the Mysore – Coorg road that recreates the monotony and hurriedness of the highway from Bangalore. I wished for the wide well built roads to end soon and let me into the variety of the countryside that hasn’t lost a personal touch. To answer my wish, the four lanes converged into two before Hunsur and undulations started showing up in landscape as I moved closer to Coorg. The vegetation got richer as I rode ahead, and tall trees dominated the landscape beyond Piriyapatna.
It was sunset hour when I was nearing Kushalanagar. The hills of western ghats were becoming visible on the road ahead, and the road gently sloped up and down every now and then. The sun, now a beautiful red ball, went past a small hill to declare the end of the day. But he was back again for me to see when I rode past the hill the next minute, and disappeared for yet another brief moment when the road plunged into a depression.
I was hoping to get to Madikeri before sundown but fell short by an hour, and just made it to Kushalagar. Surprisingly, the 230km journey had not drained much of my energy. A mild pain in the back that nagged me for most of the day disappeared as soon as I got off the bike, and a quick shower refreshed me well enough that I barely felt any fatigue from the ride. Heavy bikes do have their benefits.
Kushalnagar was decorated that day with prayer flags, banners and posters to welcome His Holiness Dalai Lama who had arrived earlier. He was spending a few days at Bylakuppe to attend Losar – the Tiebtan new year festival. I was contemplating on a visit to the village, but the likelihood of big crowds and heavy security made me change plans.
The next morning, I woke up early and took off to Madikeri, up the western ghats and further ahead down the hills towards the sea, to Kasargod. The road, surrounded by thick greenery, started climbing up soon after Kushalangar. This part of the ride was pleasant – spotted doves wandered by the roadside pecking god-knows-what, and a few Rose Ringed Parakeets made quick flights as I drove through the forest. Occasional dazzle of red flowers of ‘flame of the forest’ created a distraction from continuous greenery. Once in a while the dense cover of the forest made some clearing to display the hills and valleys of the Sahyadris around me. After an hour’s ride, Madikeri emerged suddenly out of the greenery, and I was in the middle of the town before I knew it.
Stopping briefly for breakfast, I continued towards Kasargod. The winding road descended steadily through the forest, demanding little effort in acceleration. The next one hour took me through perpetual greenery and ridges that ran parallel to the road, with few villages and very little traffic. The landscape flattened and roads improved after Sampaje, a small town 30km from Madikeri. Now treading on easy roads with smooth tarmac, I lost my concentration on the road and day dreamed through most of my way.
The next break came in Sullya, somewhere close to the border of Kerala and Karnataka. The landscape turned hilly and picturesque again as I descended further towards coast, with the road forming a tunnel amidst thick vegetation that kept the hot sun away. Payaswini river skirted the road now and then, suddenly appearing as a flash of opening in the forest. Occasional opening in the forest opened up to vista of the rolling hills.
The arrival of Kerala was marked by a burst in political activism. Banners and logos covered the walls of bus stops, electric poles and compounds. Roads and trees were not spared either. Digital printing revolution has proliferated large posters with pictures of the self proclaimed leaders eager to uplift the human species.
There is a sudden demographic change on entering the national highway 17 at Cherkala, 10 kilometers ahead Kasargod. Now I was riding past dense population and the most unruly drivers on the way who seemed to find it a virtue to drive on the right lane, and believe that two wheelers do not deserve an identity. Thankfully it was a short ride from here, and I arrived at Kasargod at 2pm to end the long ride.
