Goobi's Soggy Shit

As much as I’d like to deny it, bike riding is torture. It hurts the back, balls, and the inner thighs become so sore that the mere act of getting up from the bike and walking a few steps is like an orgasm. I knew this from my Bangalore trip, and I knew it would be the same for the next one.

I don’t know what calls me to make a biking trip. Is it the poetic idea of ‘hitting the road’, or the fear that this is the only age I’ll get to ‘freak out’ so? I don’t know. So without an explanation as to why, I’ll give you a short note on what went down that road.

On the travel plan

I depend on Google Maps. I look through the images, jotting down my path. This time, it was a 400km straight ride to Mangalore, cut across to Metikali (Coorg), and ride through the Nilgiris, passing some flatlands in Kerala, Gudalur, climbing up into Ooty, and finally, Coonoor, where my aunt awaited my arrival with chocolates made just for me.

On Getting there

There weren’t any surprises. I had initially planned on staying at my uncle’s place in Mangalore, but I got there at ~2 in the morning. Add to that now-city is completely unrecognizabke from 3 years ago. Lodges were closed. I managed to find a lonely bus stop with ledges wide enough to accomodate me. It was some terrible mosquito ridden sleep, but I needed it.

I arrived at Coorg late afternoon, and got a royal welcome at Sujata and Anurag’s Eco tourism retreat—dad’s friends. Chilled. Ate. Slept (fucking cold). Left early next morning.

Nothing much to add here. Some rough roads in between, not the greatest of scenery, and food was nothing compared to back home. Fucking Keralites and their coconut oil. I reached Coonoor withi 48 hours of leaving home—actual riding time an unknown.

On Riding Gear

Unlike the last time, I decided to get me some good riding gear to protect me from the cold as well as reduce injury should I crash into a cow. I’ve got to hand it to the Cramster guys. Splendid jacket. Not only could I ride in extreme cold, the jacket beathes enough to make riding in the hot sun quite tolerable. At no point did I get any shivers of any kind, nor did I feel the need to take it off in the sub. Only, if I did stop in the sun , I had to immediately take it off because it just absorbed all that heat leaving me drenched in sweat. Overall amazing constriction, protection, safety, and it looks awesome too.

On The Nilgiris

It’s breathtaking. The green tea gardens, the deep valleys, the clouds beneath. Riding between Coonoor, Kotagiri, and Ooty was sheer joy. The roads are smooth and well maintained. The gear of course protected me from the cold.

After two days of this though, its artificial face showed through. Neatly arranged tea gardens doesn’t exactly spell out ‘nature’. There were of course evergreen forests; beautifully covering the road in certain areas, and I enjoyed riding through those under the thick canopy.

On Coldness

I hate the fucking cold. I hate sleeping under heavy quilts, I hate heating water every time I want to drink, and I hate having my dick frozen every time I have to take a piss. Maybe I’m too stupid to actually like the hot Goan weather; I just do. That is not to say I suffered all these days. I can very well take the cold for a few days or even months. But living I do only in the tropics.

On Aunt’s place in Coonoor

For all those family folks reading this, Anjie’s place is awesome. Really nicely designed, elegant furniture, utilitarian too. Awesome that she made time for even though she was so busy.

On Photography

I hate photographers who post awesome shots, and then complain that they didn’t get it right or some bullshit like that. Also, I’m not a photographer (yet), so I didn’t expect my pictures to make it to people’s desktop wallpapers. During my trip, I remembered something a photography great had said. It’s not about having great lenses, or having years of experience (although those help). Photography is about getting up early in the morning. It’s about hiking to the precise spot on that hill. It’s about stopping, setting up your equipment, and working just because you think a particular scene might end up being a good shot.

I certainly couldn’t wake up at 5 in the morning; it was too cold and I was lazy. But if you allow me to blame equipment for my crappy shots: First, I didn’t have a UV or Polarizer filter on my lens so there was all kinds of weird hues. Second, while travelling, my bag was tied to my bike. So I couldn’t leave it unattended. Third, my left toe was hurting.

On South India

It sucks. No one speaks English or Hindi, so all I could say was “illa placename“. Road signs are all in freakin hibberish—why would they renamed a lovely name like Ooty to Ugamimagadipadam?—and the the coolest place around town was a Cafe Coffee Day. The moment I crossed the Karnataka border into Goa, I could feel the difference. For one, there’s a bar every 200 metres or so (with increasing frequency until they’re actually touching one another). For another, the people are just fun.

On Aloneness

“Of course I’ll be joining you”, said one. Another had already set aside cash. Another was just a few hours away, so definitely. I knew ultimately I would be the only one going on this epic journey. First, I don’t mind the alone. While riding I don’t see how company helps other than for protection should something happen. It would have been nice to have someone on to roam around the place though. To see a breathtaking sight, and all you’re surrounded with are monkeys and yanda-gundu speaking people isn’t all that fun.

Oh I’ll be doing this again. For sure.