This is a long read on my journey with Royal Amigos, a Kollam based Enfield club to Coorg in Karnadaka and back. If you saw this post pop up in your time line but is uninterested in bikes or biking please exit now only.
‘You must write a travelogue on this.’ Sleepy eyed, dead tired and drooping Nikhil did mange to tell me this before he rode off to his gate at Kollam and I dreaded ahead to cover 70 more odd kilometers to Trivandrum. I was at the final stage of our epic ~1500km ride to and from Virajpet to Trivandrum.
Couple months back Nikhil did invite me to join the Enfieldhead’s south Reunion at Coorg and I instantly brushed it off, but as the day drew close I wanted to join the adventure. For who wants to miss such an atrocious idea? I had a fanatical search for an Enfied as I didn’t own one and a couple of my frieds offered me theirs but it was my wife’s fried Midhun who finally got me one. A 2005 model 5 speed electra. A behemoth that was garaged for over two years, bit rusty and handicapped in the electric start. He needed to coaxed by decompression and multiple kicks to rise from the stupor, but once alive his roar did woke up the block. I instantly christened him pThor. Thor for the thunder he generates and p for, well fcuk it, its my story and I will write whatever I want. I took out pThor for a week to get used to his tantrums and to master the ‘taming the bull’ ritual. On the day of the ride I was joined by George on his Classic 350 and we left college on a half day leave to reach Kollam to get pThor’s oil changed and spark plugs cleaned up. Nikhil was already there suited up to the boots and riding suits from 7am and now baked in the mid day sun impatiently waiting for us to join. After the quick service thanks to the crew at Unnonny motors we were off to Kochi for our night stay. Nikhil had to fix a flagpole on his TB350 and hence he blasted off leaving George and I to a slow pace. We were soon caught up by Martin on his TB500 and Vipin on his Continental GT and we proceeded on a relaxed pace to Kochi until we hit the traffic there. A couple days ago I saw a post shared by Patrick about how Kochi for them is not a city but a feeling. I am sure. A feeling when you get stuck four times at the same traffic light sucking up diesel fumes while hoping that some debris loose form the metro pillars won’t squash you. Roight there dude, Its some feeling. George left off to his wife’s place and we rode on to our vantage point at Harbour view hotel were we met the co riders Vijay sir on his Standard 500, Nidish doc on his classic 350. After a bit of chat the Kochi duo left us to have our dinner and crash at our friend Abhilash’s place.
Our ride began in earnest on the second day. The plan was to start from front of Lulu mall at 6 am and to all our surprise we were able to do so by 6.15. Impressive display of punctuality, I would say but George will not for he had been waiting for us from 5.30 in the morning. Military discipline does suck when your friends are too much of a civilian. Vijay sir had printed Ozymandias for the dreams he chases on his bike and from now I would refer him as Ozy took up the role of the ride caption, Nikhil was deputed as the lead rider, Vipin or mechanic the rear guard while we the mediocre ones the riders. All of us had to run on head lights all the time and must be able to see the head lights of the rider behind us all the time, if not must slow down so that he can catch up. Cool rules, no problem I thought. But wrong, I was the fourth rider behind Nikhil, Ozy and Martin and soon I lost sight of them. pThor was not impressed at his younger cousins and neither was I. After around an hour of riding I initiated a pit stop and demanded that we go at a relaxed pace as if I wanted to be stressed out I would have just sticked on to my job and not join a ride. I wanted to chill out, I want to relax, so I want to have tea, have a smoke enjoy the view and relax my way to Coorg where I plan to relax some more before I relax my way back to Trivandrum. Ozy, the man on a supercharged 500 was not impressed on my monologue but still with a smirk he told already lets chill out but remember we need to reach Iritty by night fall, some 350Km away. Congratulating myself for putting my foot down, we had tea, then we had breakfast after some 30km, evenly spaced smoke/photo breaks and a stupendous dum biriyani at Calicut. By this time we were more or less in the rhythm of the ride and comfortably reached Kannur where we had tea and cleared off the bakery by unburdening them of all their snacks. I must confess you haven’t had authentic Malabar food unless you had it from Kannur, the irachipattiri and unnakkai was so damn good that we wasted an hour at that spot. The plan was to ride through Mahe. Oh you naught mind, you read that correct, but unfortunately we bypassed Mahe somehow and ended up at a place called notMahe. Now we were at a dilemma to go back or to proceed to Iritty and with the sun disappearing faster than the cash in our wallets, we decided to ride on. In the mayhem of the ride that followed we lost and found Nikhil once, I almost slipped on a gravel patch (quite sure no one noticed that) and reached Iritty by 7Pm. On the way itself me and many if the co-riders did notice independently that Iritty lacked the basic requirement for a Mallu’s survival, for we could not find a Bevco outlet anywhere. With heavy hearts and still heavier bags we lumbered into M2H residency. I am not making up this, that hotel was called M2H, I don’t know what the expanded nomenclature is but I am sure the owners had a great sense of humor when they named their hotel. Bathed and ready we set off to find beer and food rightly in that order and did find them for the first washed away our weariness and the food lifted our spirits. The night was well spend chatting while Nikhil, George and myself crashed in a bed clearly meant for one person.
The plan for the second day was to start early as we had a patch of forest to ride through and George was sure we can witness some wildlife in the dawn, so we were locked and loaded by 6am and did very promptly did not start by 8.30am. It was Ozy the most unlikely person who delayed us as he cramped his thigh and had to wait for a couple hours to find his feet. With the hope of wildlife gone and rain clouds gathering we warily began the ascent to Coorg. Some of you may know that I cycles a bit and have done the Ponmudi route in Trivandrum couple times. This route was similar to the Ponmudi road and I felt that while I am laboring up Ponmudi on my cyclel I can hear my heart pounding, crank clicking, chain straining, birds chirping, monkeys chattering, a million insects buzzing, I can smell the forest, my lungs are filled with the virgin air so cool that it takes to a meditative stage that the yoga dudes seems to achieve standing upside down. But as our machines sped through this forest, all I heard is the roar of seven Enfield’s, backfiring of Martin’s TB500 and the smell of spent gasoline. For me it was disgusting, and it was the one part of the trip I hated. I would rather gladly cycle up those Ghats taking four hours instead of ripping it off in thirty minutes on a motorbike. An hour or so into the ride we took a piss/photo break and donned our rain jackets as a drizzle began. I did wander around the road for a few minutes to stretch my legs, leaving my commonsense home I walked on the damp grass wearing a low shoe and shorts. A couple minutes into the ride I felt something crawl on my left ankle and my instinct reflex helped to pick and throw off the leech before it could attach itself to feast on me. I am sure that leech that I dispatched off during the ride was not that one that landed on George and devoured his blood leaving trails of red lines on his legs, but he was not very happy about that. We finally reached Coorg by 11 am.
There was a registration process to join this REunion with a fee of 5500 for our accommodation at club Mahindra resort, food and festivities and me being the late John was unable to pre register. Martin took up pains to get a spot registration for me while the others got their room keys, tags and such. After an hour of unsuccessful deliberations with the constipated looking fellows at the counter we decided to head to the rooms. They place was pretty good and quite as we were the first set of riders to reach. After settling down we decided to attend to the matters of the stomach. The question is should we have a gourmet brunch at the resort that will most probably cost more than our bikes or should we ride to the nearest town and have food? The trip to the town was a quick affair with me going pillion on Nikhils TB350 watching Vipin pop up wheelies on the Continental GT while others rushed past. We made it to the town in good time and it was a feast for eyes, take it from me if you are ever asked which place in India have the prettiest girls, the answer is always Coorg ! He had our brunch from a hotel shared by a bunch of very noisy bikers from Madhuri I think lead by elder dude. On our return ride we saw may rider clubs pull in, The Royal Pandians, Road Shakers etc. I found it funny that there were dudes who loaded their bulls in pickups while they travelled in chauffeur driven cars in complete riding gear only to unload and ride from the gate of the resort to the parking lot, reaving the fcuk out of their machines. Post the brunch it was time to decide what kind of spirits we must acquire for the evening, the clear ones or the colored ones and finally the colored ones got picked. In life most of the problems occur when we either overestimate or underestimate something, in case of Mallu’s and booze it’s always underestimation. On reaching back, we immediately dispatched off the spirits and were still standing. It was then a dull wait for the DJ to start so that we could have dinner afterwards. By around 7pm, we left off to shake a leg at the DJ and fill up the growling bellies. This time Martin managed to secure a registration for me and I became a citizen of Enfieldom form a being an illegal alien. One think I must tell you dear reader, Reunions are sausage fests, if you are a adrenalin crazy, testosterone pumping, beer drinking engine revving overcompensating middle aged man, you have come to the right place, else excuse. Soon the DJ and the actions grew on us and we decided to call the day off.
The penultimate day of the ride began with a short excursion to the town after a hearty breakfast to get some souvenirs for the folks back home and ended up in a big debate of whether we should stay at the resort and enjoy the overpriced amities or should we head out to explore Coorg. After a prolonged meaningful debate including morons, jokers, fcukers and such we decided to ride to Madikery fort to have the famed Coorg pork dishes. There was a slight drizzle and the 30km ride was enjoyable, we reached a disappointing fort where Ozy took some excellent photos while we wandered around. I have been to this place a few years previously in my college days so played the guide. After the fort we crashed at the nearby hotel and devoured a selection of pork. Pork pepper fry, pork masala, pork roast, pork in bamboo shoot curry and the every other pork selection available there. I am sure we had eaten an entire pig among the seven of us. Astrex would be so proud. By now the sun was playing hide and seek among the rain clouds and there Ozy and George decided to get back to the hotel to enjoy the pool while we morons decided to proceed to Kushalnagar to see the famed Tibetian monastery and golden temple. It ride was a constant uphill matter followed by a stretch of flat road so beautifully paved that the hot heads among us had to do 120kmph to ecstasy, while the mediocre me followed at the pThor’s top speed of ~90Kmph. We reached the Tibetian colony in good time and explored the area. It was here we noticed that we were acutely short of cash and the nearest ATM was another 15Km away and none of the shops accept cards. It was a great disappointment for me as I was planning to go on a shopping spree, and maybe it was a self protective mechanism done by my conjoose brain ! By around 5Pm, it was getting darker by the minute and we decided to head back to the hotel as it was a good 80km ride and it was then the heavens opened up to unleash a torrent. We were in for the toughest ride of the trip. Every time rain threatened us Ozy will comment, ‘Lets see who is a real biker and who is not, are you morons tougher than your bikes?’ Well we put it to the test on that day. I was wearing a cotton t shirt, shorts and a thin rain liner and soon began to shiver. The rest of the team were better dressed and was in a better shape than me. The fog that joined the rain reduced visibility to almost zero and we put our left indicators along with the headlights to signal the ones behind. I meekly followed Nikhils tail lamp while he followed the lead rider Martins. Among the five of us, Nikhil is the bike fanatic who keeps his ride in mint condition, eager to replace any part that may show signs of wear and tear rather than repair it, while me on the other hand resorts to duct tape to fix the torn seat cover. I could make out in the face of our mechanic his distress whenever he laid his eyes on pThor as he was sure pThor will die in the most inhospitable of conditions and will make us push him. But it was as always the best laid plan that failed first when Nikhil’s TB350 spurted and died. I was afraid that pThor may follow suite if I turned him off and kept him running throughout the time Vipin attempted to fix the TB and finally diagnosed as some problem with the battery terminal. Vipin took over the TB350 while Nikhil rode the TB500 from there on. Around 20Km from our stay we took a break and to acquire some spirits for the night. I fished out my mobile from the flooded pocket of my rain liner and was surprised that it worked. I made a call to my wife at a bus shelter and found an insect turned upside down struggling there. It was that beetle with the fcuking huge pincers and my first instinct was to stomp the pulp out of it, then suddenly maybe because of the sense of peace I got from the Buddhist place, I decided to spare it going all philosophical, I thought that all living being have a place on earth and I must not take a life unnecessarily. After I finished my call I was joined by Nidish doc to a nearby shop to get some supplies. It was still drizzling and I pulled up the cape of my rain liner and my fingers brushed on something on it and I groped around it only to be rewarded by a pain so intense that even getting your vital in the zipper could be called trivial. I pulled out my hand and shook it violently to throw off whatever was sawing my finger into half and in the corner of my eye I saw the huge pinchers slicing through my flesh. With a flourish of my wrist I managed to throw off the creature and examined my blood soaked finger to make sure I haven’t lost enough of the digit to consider a shift in carrier. Then and there I decided that such creature that flaunts pinchers, stings etc does not have a place on earth as they are some abominations that escaped through the cracks in hell and must promptly be sent back if seen anywhere ever again. So much for piety.
Half an hour later without we reached the resort and changed from rain soaked apparel. Pulling out Nikhils riding boot took all the might of four of us as it was stuck at his ankle and finally we entered the room after getting duplicate key cards as Ozy and George could not be found anywhere. The wonders a couple dry shots, some puffs and a warm bath can be experienced best after a rain soaked ride is one of the rewards a garden variety biker can hope to achieve, but take it from me, it’s a great feeling. Refreshed and pumped up, we strolled to the lobby for dinner and found Ozy and George worried as they were unable to reach any of us for the last few hours. We gorged on the buffet and met few fellow bikers who had rode far and wide and had come in hordes from the corners of the country to be at this event. Therese are not the usual bearded, overweight drunks or not the senseless prepubescent’s that endanger themselves and everyone else on the road with their rash riding but level headed respectable professionals who give true meaning to the passion of riding. I had a great time interacting with a few of them and stood openmouthed hearing their ride stories and experiences that I may one day hope to do myself. We then left to the parking lot to fix Nikhi’s TB which Vipin did with ease and little after 12am we decided to hit the bed and to wake up at 5am so to start back home by 6.
After a quick bath, pathetic attempt of self made coffee and hectic packing we bid adieu to club Mahindra by 7am and started the descent through the winding roads to Iritty and reached there in good time. Nikhil, Vipin and I needed to be home by the day while Ozy, Martin, George and Nidish doc were planning to halt at Kochi. So the former three had to ride 250 extra km and I being the one with the longest way to go was on the edge. At morning I found that my phone had died of drowning in the previous night’s rain and now I was communicating with my wife through Nikhils phone. Her messages became less friendly and more threading as the time passed on and Nikhil was keen to make sure I reach home before my wife reaches the threshold of her fury which he was certain will be directed at him while I stand dumb as a rock. The breakfast at Iritty took more than an hour and by now we lost our patience and decided to split the pack. Nikhil and I raced off with the idea of minimum breaks and 100km ride slots from there on. It was the beginning of the ride that truly tested my mettle. We buzzed past Mahe, Kannur and reached Calicut by noon and were very happy at our pace. We were caught up by Vipin and Nidish doc by then, had a chocolate milkshake from Calicut and rode on quickly. Reached Kodungaloor by 3Pm and were hopeful that the pace can get us home in time and decided to take a break to cool of the bikes. Vipin noticed that pThor’s chain was sagging and tighten it up and increased the rear brake tension also. After a tea we were off to Edapally and it was then I noticed that pThor was not pulling like before and I was falling behind and I suspected that I smelled something burning. Quickly I stopped the bike and was terrified to find smoke from the rear wheel hub. Apparently the rear break that was hot got jammed while tightening and we had to wait another 30 minutes to get it corrected and cooled. By then the rest of the crew had caught up with us and we were not happy that we wasted an hour, from there we continued on to Kochi and reached by around 6.30 and halted in front of Oberon mall to bid goodbye to Nidish doc. Nikhil noticed that he had got a text from George that Martin wants us to wait as he is too coming to Kollam and we waited for an hour. By then I was clearly impatient and coaxed Nikhil to join me as I still had around 250km to go and I wanted to reach Trivandrum before 12am. We left Vipin to give company to Martin and started the final lap. Nikhil and I decided on the code that he would ride in front and would now and then put on his left indicator and I had to respond to the same by flashing my left indicator if all is well and I must put on my right indicator if I wanted to stop. Someone who had never had a true ride reading this account will feels such things trivial but to someone who had been on the saddle for more than 12 hours every trivial things matter for his safety. Chertalla, Alapuzha and Ambalapuzha flashed off and we did a tea break at Karunagapally and twenty Km from there Nikhil made it home just past 10pm and I rode along into the final 80km.
Once alone in the road, I was getting sleepy and started to get hallucinations. Shadows and light plays giving me impressions of people walking into the road and eerie sound of the nights disturbing me. This must be how the legends of highway ghost are born, weary travelers witnessing normal shadows and seeing white clad ladies attempting to eat them thanks to the cliché of Indian movies. More than supernatural I was more worried about my bike dying in this desolate patch of road or me hitting a pot hole and falling down. Sleep too was creeping up my eyes clouding my judgment and I almost rammed a crossing stray dog. Rest easy Manekaji, I missed it. More than sleep or the strays something else was bothering me, I was getting seriously Son-sick. It is a variation of home sickness in which you do not want the trip to end and go home but you desperately want to see your son, hold him I your arms and see him smile at your monkey face. I stopped somewhere near Kallambalm and poured the last bottle of water over my head and ripped the road till I got home. Dismounting at my house after around 18 hours and 600km on the bike I felt my head wobble and the body refusing to stop believing that I had finally stopped riding. I rang the bell and there was my wife with her sleepy eyes and happy smile at the door, smiling at her I marched to our bed to find little Sid sound asleep with a smile on his lips for daddy to reach home.
So dear reader, what did I achieve with this death wish of an atrocious act that costs a fortune? Well I felt alive. As I read some were, most people die at 25 and are buried only by 75, but in the last four days I felt alive than ever. There is no better de-stressor than to follow your passion and have the company of a bunch of friends with the same level of retard-ness like you. The lessons I learned includes never ever attempt to ride more than 500km in a day or spent more than 12hrs on the saddle; never trust your rain liner to protect your mobile and finally suite up well for any ride. And yes if you ever come across the beetle with the huge fcuking pinchers, stomp the pulp out of it.
Will I ever do it again? An Enfield Reunion? Probable not, I found it is as boring and as expensive as the Dental conferences I frequent; sans the awesome people I met. A ride with the Royal Amigos? Hell yes, it’s an adventure to cherish until you have done something even madder.
Thanks for reading
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