Waking up early on a Sunday morning can be difficult. All the more difficult when the air is nippy, the sky is black, roads wet and warm blanket is on. So the plans to get up at 5 and leave by 5:45 were never going to materialize. And it never did. By the time we left, it was 7:30, a good 100 minutes behind schedule.
The plan was a bike expedition to Penukonda Fort in Andhra Pradesh, some 170 km from Bangalore. We were 3 bikes and 5 riders. On Bajaj Avenger were Neelabh and Jayant, on Black Pulsar 150 were Kunal and Mithun and on my Sliver Pulsar… it was me and only me. It started with a tea at the Silk Board Junction, where all riders were supposed to assemble. Wearing a riders jacket, holding your helmet in one hand and cup of tea in other, in a early morning sprinkle of retreating monsoon… there are few things more blissful you can do in a metropolitan city. Kunal, one of the riders was not in best of health, so riding in rains was ruled out from the outset. At 7:30 when the rains finally made way for us, our bikes’ engines roared to life. Few standing throttle revs to get the sleeping giants awake and declare to the highway… “Here we come”. Trip meters set to zero, punching knuckles with each other, we set free…
We decided to take the outer ring road to reach Hebbal to avoid the city traffic. Though the route was some 8-10 km longer, but straight roads make better sense than traffic lights. Still, however straight, first 25 km were essentially city ride, until we reached Hebbal Flyover. Right blinkers blinked on every bike and we touched the tail of the snake that we plan to pat the head of, the Nation Highway 7. Our destination is some 150 km straight on NH7. The upcoming of Bangalore International airport at Devanhalli on NH7 has made the stretch till the airport busy. The roads have been rev-upped, broadened and well lit but still till you actually cross the airport, the real feel of Highway doesn’t seeps thought the tires to your adrenaline. So another 20 km were spent waiting for real highway to start. And as the luck would have it, some 5 km into the real highway and the rain gods were furious again. We had planned a stop after 60 km or 1 hour, whichever was later. But rain stopped us before we could achieve any of those deadlines.
At 55 km was out first pit stop. On a highway tours, what petrol is to bikes, Chai is to riders. You need your dose every 100 km at least. It was our first stop, so chai was accompanied by breakfast. Road side dhabas make such memorable Idly, cooked on wood fire, not in the huge steamers in your regular city restaurants. We were 5 and they had only 4 stools. The cook picked up a huge container, probably containing the Idly batter, off one stool and offered it to us. He could speak and understand only Kannada, but he didn’t need to speak the feeling of hospitality he was willing to offer, neither did we speak to express our gratitude. Some emotions are best talked through eyes.
4 Idly, 2 cup tea and some 35 photographs later, we left. Again measuring the NH7. 25 km more and we were in the city of Chikkaballapur, probably the last place before our destination, where we could find an ATM. We stopped, stretched and withdrew cash. We thought of chai, then though otherwise. We counted this as stretching break and decide to stop 60 km from there for next chai break. At 140 km we took another chai break. But real pleasure was waiting some 15 km ahead.
On the banks of highway, the rocks were being blown to make concrete. A tiny steam of water sprouted from the top of the rocky terrain and the crater created by the blown away rocks was filled with water. An oasis…! Did I hear…?? Disk brakes almost automatically jammed the front wheels of all 3 bikes. All three bikers looked into each other’s eyes; a faint nod from all 3 and the bikes left the tarmac behind and embraced the rocks. “Into the waters…!” screamed one of us. Without knowing who it was, 3 front tires were wetting heels in the water next moment. The land ahead was soggy and venturing further didn’t seem to be the wisest of decisions. Bouncing stones on the water surface, trekking to the top of the rock, slashing big rocks into the water and clicking everything from every angle, 30 minutes had passed before we looked to the watches.
We were 155 km from the tea stall at Silk Board. The Penukonda was another 15 km. This was the first bike expedition to a fort, first time my lil devil was about to conquer a fort. The first view of the Fort Entry Gate, through the bustling bazaar, was encouraging. But the fort was conquered already, before we reached. The Penukonda Fort, for starters is not a protected monument. And hence was encroached. Or should I say, was not evacuated. Maybe these people didn’t encroach; maybe they were there since the day fort was built. At first we felt disappointed and a little cheated. But when you enter the fort city, when you see people living in the fort, when you drive pass houses with gigantic gates with stone engraved pillars in the courtyard, when you get your first Goosebumps of driving IN a fort, it all starts to seem worth.
171 km and we are at a lake, used for public bathing in the times of king. Today, it’s used for fishing. There’s no official boat ride available. We offered the fisherman a hundred rupees for a 20 minute ride. The other bank of the lake looked un-naturally manicured. In the backdrop, a U shaped hillock, with a temple like structure in the middle of U. It was too mysterious to let go. We asked the boatman to leave us at the other bank. First plan was to explore the temple like structure. With no defined route, we had to trek through the bushes and rocks. After trekking for more than half an hour, we could see the lake was left far behind, but the temple in the U hill was still looking as far as it was from the lake. It was like a mirage in the desert.
Nothing for the tummy after that wood-fire cooked idly, no water to drink for last 2 hours, sun starting to tear down the clouds, the path not treaded before, rocks a bit too huge to climb and about half hour of trek giving apparently no results… should be go ahead with the trek to the unknown temple or return to the refuge of city, have something for the burning tummy and droughty throats… it was not a difficult decision to make. Walking along the sides of the lake, we came back to the starting point. The engines of the bikes had become lazy in the mid noon sun. it took more than usual efforts to get the lazy bums to life again. The bikes were ready with retaliation plan, the seats were pepping hot.
If you are at Penukonda, not eating at Friends Dhaba is a sin. Not for the delicacies they offer but the sheer presence they have made in the minds of localites. Ask anyone, just about anyone a good place to eat and they speak in chorus “Friends Dhaba”. Honestly though, don’t expect any mouth watering food, but not bad by any standards. The Daal Fry is a must try.
While we were filling appetite, the rains outside were washing of the roads. And we both were done almost simultaneously. But the village roads were not prepared for such a wash… water logging obstructed our way ample number of times to be called as obstruction.
It was 3.30 pm already. We had to travel about 170 km, so to everybody’s disliking we decided to cut on number of chai breaks. Only one it was. After some 70 km. it was also the place for last set of photos. Thankfully the NH7 is never too crowded, and we could speed through it at will. we had decided not to take any more chai breaks, but once we crossed the airport, once the city light were visible, once the NH7 was busy and jammed at every signal, we were already feeling at home. We stopped, this time not at a highway dhaba, but more urbane version, a CCD. Its was time to cool off the tiring muscles and settle all the finances we incurred in the trip.
The snake was caged. Finances settled. Promise to meet soon, another punches of the knuckles and adios till next time…
