BiKronicles 4: Lavasa Valley City

Happy Deepawali

This time Diwali was a scramble about town. When you are a couple you have much in common or rather end up having much in common. This is good. Then come those occasional uncompromised-able uncommon factors, which I think are fun cuz THAT makes us individuals. Diwali is lights, sweets and full stop at 10:30pm as per mister Abeer. Diwali is “woooow” “oh my god oh my god” *whaaaam* *BOOM* #nomnom “do I look fat” “haven’t I lost any weight” “where is your traditional avatar” and the likes as per et moi.

This time we played it slow and all loved up. I found a dress and wore it. There were no loud crackers and no severe abuse of the arteries. I decided to play it mellow too on the condition that we AT LEAST fuse up a few phuljhadis which we did :D These sparklers were also to cheer us up for the ridiculous struggle and failing to plan our Diwali weekend (or so we thought at the time). Every resort, beach property, hotel, home stay and everything that all websites and travelogues could offer had gone up fpr grabs like it was the last vacation on this god forsaken planet. Long weekend √ Family festival √ Firecrackers √ Mumbai √ Getaway options and offers √ - Who wouldn’t run outta town the 1^st blip they got. So we decided to stand our ground on the leave and take off.

We chose Lavasa valley city as our new exploration and decided to follow it up with Khadakwasla Lake the same day or the next. NH47 our standard route and an early start at near dawn i.e. 6am was the kickstart of the weekend. Not surprisingly, cracker echoes were still ringing into the pre-sunrise sky. We were glad to escape the heavyset smog and evident gunpowder pollution. Following the route and now covering it in lesser time than we used to, we took a turn at the Wakad circle and headed right. The road was pebble-like and had tons of gravel for a while. The locals and petrol station warned us of that. But after a few kms it was smooth as butter and absolutely scenic. By now we were used to scenic routes but when green valleys and plateau like visuals were replaced by reservoirs, unending and winding lakes and huge dams, we just had to pause for a break. What strikes at 1^st is the sustenance of the area. The locals look like they are well maintained, have ample job opportunities created by those who paved the Lavasa valley city and dams and have their own produce and resources tended to. The good thing is that there are still miles of untouched and un-hawked zones on the driveway to the valley city. That’s why it’s imperative to stock up on chai and water any chance one gets.

We noticed many bikers this particular weekend. Especially the Dukes and KTM riders (more like racers), a whole lot of Royal Enfield groups probably on one of their breakfast rides and also a stray few Harleys. All the key scenic points were stacked with bikers and each one was checking out the other. Abeer and I were the stray lone ones not part of any groups. However, the thrill of overtaking or riding along with one of the passing groups, even if briefly, is something I am always prepared for. We reached Lavasa valley after what seemed like an ascent, a descent followed by another steep ascent overlooking Temghar Lake. Temghar Lake starts with a humble scenic water body and quickly expands into a winding massive water body that provides resources (water, hydroelectricity, harvesting etc.) for 1000s of kms of land and forest area. Lavasa city is built on one of the banks of a hilly region overlooking Temghar lake and has its own Dasve Dam bridge that connects the waterfront from one end to the next. It’s a brilliant concept based on a European design and always draws a ‘mini EU in India’ comparison. There are ample places to eat and explore despite them being WIP. We lunched at the All American Diner where there was an offer for a few course meals at fixed price. We were starving and foodies that we are, offers always cheer us up. Therefore, we did indulged.

Temghar Lake Dam

A quick ride around the entire property across the riverfront, a bit of a walk and the day just sped by. Lavasa appears to have been made rather clean and ecofriendly. Again it was quiet and the crowd was scanty. The same cannot be guaranteed on a crowded day or event. The properties looked promising and rather inviting but I was clear I wasn’t looking for a community. I was looking for my own lone cabin by the lake. We left for Pune and had an eventful rest of the weekend by ourselves. It usually involves lovely meals, some real us time together and of course a good watering hole. This weekend we checked out a new joint and an old all-too-familiar brewery – Flambos and Irish Village. Khadakwasla was saved for another day given that we woke up rather late and didn’t quite feel like copping another long ride.

Beer samplers at Irish Village

All in all it was a gorgeous weekend. Lovely sights with simplicity being the order of the weekend. In addition, our bebe and beauty –RoyalEnfield Classic Tan 500cc series (I call her Limited Edition) <3.

For a top-of-the-hill view of Lavasa Valley visit the following clips I shot on Instagram: http://instagram.com/p/ujwkWivrWa/?modal=true and another video taken from the middle of Dasve Dam http://instagram.com/p/uhpcYFPrVn/?modal=true

 

 

BiKronicles 3: Nashik-Daman and Diu (Wining and Dining)

It’s been > a week since our epic trip to Nashik and Daman and Diu. A complete tangent ball game from our otherwise smooth rides. I was prepared and then not-so-prepared for this trip.

The ironic Monday after the week came with an anchoring feeling. Sinking would mean I could swim back up. This was heavy and leaded. The feeling was slightly eased by changing my shift from 6am-2pm and celebrating Eid-al-adha with my truly. I was glad I worked my ass off prior to the long weekend cuz that meant no anxiety attacks this workweek.

The trip was perfect until the evening before when an evil and honestly useless custom plagued me. Dry day on 02 Oct when we had planned to visit vineyards and thrive under vino-isk magic. Abeer eased my nerves; said, “Let’s just go and see what we can do!” to which I added “Lets buy wine and go to vine country!” Both extremely wise and useful decisions. Having gotten a steal at our choice hotel IBIS, I was pinched about paying more than double the difference to change our dates of travel. Glad I was talked out of it and lured with spirit (literally speaking). After having packed off the cats to foster care, which was a huge adventure in itself, I took off on the bike – this time new and revised gear and better prepared. Riding in the morning has a serene ‘leave this world behind’ sort of theme. There is literally nothing to interrupt you. Even if you need breakfast, you are seriously lucky if you find something of choice in the same route of travel at 6:30am. Starbucks, Powai it was. This was also the 1^st trip where the much coveted, hunted and finally acquired Cramster saddle bags made its debut on our bebe’s booty. The bags just slide over the seat, do not interfere with the pillion footing or support and have easy to reach into pockets for quick bites and water bottles. The 48ltr capacity was perfect for packing in 3 days’ worth of whatever we needed and it had room. Abeer joked that I could use 1.5 parts of the bag. I was good and used only 1. J 

Abeer's idea of a flattering pic of me!

The road was relatively smooth with the occasional ‘excavations’ caused by cargo wielding transport. The potholes and speed breakers were the kind that can send you straight up before you even realize what hit you or vice versa. Road condition is something that prompts me to be Abeer’s absolutely 100% fail-safe vision. Even if he is busy sightseeing whilst hitting the 100 speed mark, I ensure that I’m watching the road. There is also the selfish motive that prompts me to watch out for me more cuz the rider will be safer than the pillion who might slip off, fly or just fall off due to obstacle+speed making merry. We tried hard to ignore the near 40°C weather and rode on. The route was scenic and divine and we stopped to get a few clicks inspired by the scores of Instagram handles that glorified biking in all its panache and had us hooked. Maharashtra is truly scenic and beautiful. There is untouched rawness, which I believe is maintained partially by the locals who aren’t plagued by greed and destruction.

Once at Nashik, we reached IBIS, made a smooth check in and were met by the most ergonomically designed hotel room. Perfect use of space with comfort and no short-change on any aspect. I never tend to believe any and every ‘review’ posted on multitude travel sites. People are fussy and imagine the presidential suite at the 4 seasons in regular hotels at meagre shillings. Take a hike buddy. People forget that the room is to rest, shower, and get out of… not LIVE IN. Aaaaaaaarrrrgh. Moving on. We doused ourselves in AC coolness, showered and moved to Sula Vineyards. FYI all other vineyards were shut even for basic dine in or tours. Sula remained faithfully open and that’s where I felt comfort revisit me; that I didn’t cancel/change the travel plans. There was no wine serving or tasting. But there were wine infused dishes on the property’s French kitchen aptly named ‘Soleil’. Although named after its ingredients it was the likeness of coq au vin and lovely prawn bisque followed by fish steak and salsa.

My love and his love (Nexus 5)
in a frame at Sula!

Lazed and passed out like 2 tabbys under heavy quilts and loaded on wine from mid noon to the next morning. We were THAT tired. Well rested, hungry as hell (read pestering front desk for when breakfast service will start); we sauntered down ready for our next pit stop. THIS was something we weren’t prepared for. The route from Nashik to Daman was a dirt road that touches NH8 – calculated at a decent 2.5-3hrs at constant speed. We took >6hrs, thanks to long winding inner roads and near missable exits. I was on GPS and even diverted us once to what was understood as a ‘shortcut’ to NH8. Boy was I wrong. It was riddled with gravel, stones, and sticky clay like mud that made the bike skid. Add to that the heat and high cliffs and no human soul in sight. This was ideally asking for trouble and we wasted 30mins in diverting and then backtracking. After this, the tempers and the heat took turns to soar. Abeer was of course the diffuser for both. He calmed me down and occasionally gave me a sound hearing, which involved a verbal dismissal or a nice speedy dash over a rough breaker (the latter I did not appreciate).

Absolute slices of heaven enroute to Daman via interior roads

I kept reminding myself to focus on the route and the scene because THIS was something we would not get to see too often. There was absolute pastel color beauty everywhere. The kind you see in nature paintings capturing ideal settings: a brook or stream, lakes and ponds, sunrise and sunsets, shades of brown from the tree trunk to the surrounding soil, a quaint lil poetry bridge (very romantic), water flowing musically over rocks and shiny pebbles, valleys of colorful flowers in patches… I may sound like I’m losing it but it sincerely was such. Interior Maharashtra is likened to an uncorrupted virgin in mind, body and soul. We periodically whizzed past tiny near insignificant villages and then the occasional large village townships as I would call it. The latter if cemented and founded with bricks to define housing and living structures. Everybody walked. Vehicles were a rarity and 2 wheelers a probable life saver here. The locals were friendly and always appeared blank on conversing as the Marathi dialect I belted out was nowhere close to what they spoke. Surprisingly Gujarati was a winner when all else failed. I constantly wondered what this place would be like in the rains and the answer will be visually astounding if I ever do return for an encore. There were structured and manmade roads but no light installations or provisions that made me realize that unless you know the terrain like the back of your hand, DO NOT travel or explore post sunset. It is indeed asking for trouble as there were many detours and routes; the main road itself a narrow 2-way for traffic which whooshed by and rattled you for a few seconds.

A good 3hrs into the ride and I was tired and hurting all over. The heat wasn’t helping and distractions were few to none. We barely communicated and used music to calm the nerves – EDM. Locals were helpful in pointing out the route but it was all guesswork. One said NH was 5kms away and in typical Indian fashion, “Haan haan seedha jaao mill jayega” (yes yes keep going straight and you’ll get it). Another said the same except he calculated 10-11kms and made it sound like it was around the next bend. India… Lol. Ultimately, after all the riding we touched NH8 and it felt exactly like Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) meeting Ellis "Red" Redding (Morgan Freeman) in Zihuatanejo. There on the roads and highways could put Maharashtra to shame. We cruised an easy and smooth 120 without so much as a break or a glitch. The speed breakers also break speed but without the risk of hitting and turtling if not caught in time.

The Daman Fort that encapsulates all Govt. buildings
and heritage sites.

Daman is THAT part of Gujarat that is no longer a part of Gujarat. It is quaint and little and has a stark contrast to architecture and crowd across the Daman Ganga river. We stayed put on the Devka beach part of town and explored it on the bike. Point to note was that we stuck out from the crowd and that drew a lot of attention. When we stepped out of the hotel we were followed with barely a foot’s worth of distance. Abeer didn’t want to compromise our safety and I didn’t think that in worse situations he would be able to defend us against half the drunken population of Maharashtra and Gujarat who had driven down here for the long weekend (read dry days). So we took the bike around, ate seafood and drank beer in a few upscale places, stayed away from dimly lit and isolated spots and returned back to our abode, Hotel Gurukripa (I recommend). It’s a decent place to stay with all the amenities, good breakfast and reasonably priced. My sights were set on The Deltin, Nani Daman. Someday baby someday.

Next morning we drove down to Jampore beach at 6am to watch the sunrise and that other part of town. It was very domesticated, beautiful smooth roads, administration and policing, housing, shelter, and a whole little Daman community tucked away. Our exhaust rattle must’ve woken most of them up but we just cruised along. People usually kept to themselves but when approached they wholeheartedly helped and spoke at length. Suddenly I felt safe and wanted to explore. A quick semi-continental breakfast, packing in and leaving we cruised through Moti Daman’s architectural and historic offerings of a fort, lighthouse and churches and went on our way. We touched Mumbai in a stupendous 3hrs. Nonstop at a speed of 120 and not once did I feel rattled or unsafe. The roads were THAT good. Once in Mumbai, smoke, smog, heat, anger, impatience and general annoyance settled in a matter of minutes. I dread this feeling ALWAYS.

Came home, cleaned up and unpacked and thanked our stars we had a whole Sunday to recover from this mini adventure of ours. I just hope our life (Abeer and mine) are always full of these <3.

Us 2 and our bebe at the Daman Fort and Lighthouse.

 

BiKronicles 2: Mini revisits (Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar)

Deep ink blue. That’s how I feel this morning. To replicate that heavy feeling is a looming dark cloud just outside my window with ‘Monday’ and ‘Long weekend is over’ etched in it somewhere. I can’t shake it off with my cuppa chai or even exchanging sweet morning msgs with my love. All I can do is wait for more colors to dissipate this one.

My excitement post getting our babe (REClassic500) was synonymous to a 5yr old being told they can go to Paris. Disney Land. Sit on ALL rides. Buy everything they touch. And the likes. I think it made me happier than Abeer to get her. I haven’t stopped planning trips, gear, safety, routes and what not. The last week of August took both of us by the neck. We were burned out, exhausted and I hadn’t slept in days staying up from 3am to 3am literally. It was a 4 working day week and that Friday was off was the bane and boon of our existence. It meant long weekend at the cost of a short weekday. We didn’t have the capacity to even sit and consciously map out where we were about to traverse. But I found the time to bug friends who had been on this route many times. Thus, fell our plan into place.

The day before the trip, I was zombied and my worst – a state my friend Simin and I used to synonymize with the zombies of the ‘Walking Dead’ series. I was battling some serious workload, packing off 2 stubborn cats with help from my momma and staying up all night. This resulted in a bit of a delay the trip day and forgetting my helmet at home causing the grump start. Helmet retrieved, arguments done, we started off. I was in severe discomfort and pain due to my monthly monster cycle coupled with no nutrition or sleep. If I thought I was in trouble, 3x that was the compromised safety of my boyfriend aka rider. I controlled myself from not physically assaulting him. He was loving and sweet and managed to make the journey bearable and as we intended all month long.

Our 1^st detour from plan was to stop in Pune and stay the night rather than continue nonstop to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. This was for both our benefit. The Ganpati weekend provided enough maneuverable traffic and obscene volume of music everywhere. We crashed in, slept like 2 heavy logs, did a bit of sheesha at a shady outlet named Jashn and then some amazing sizzler dinner at 11 East Street. Ambition and some lightheadedness from the hookah made us wanna catch a late night movie. Instead we called it a night cuz my man here loves a 5am wake up and a high-speed readiness to take to the road. I am now used to this routine and can only stress on the benefits of always hitting the road early; NO traffic, NO pollution, NO annoying people, NO heat dust or smog, NO dullness and so on. It’s beautiful and romantic I might add.

Day 2, 30 August, we left for an all day trip to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. I learned a lot about Abeer on this trip. It’s not just a ride or a trip, it’s a journey. He just pauses, breathes in places, checks his watch and is ready to move on… very characteristic of his own personal attitude. No looming, lingering, or hovering. I, on the other hand, am all about the loom, hover, hang. Until I have not completely soaked in what I needed to, I just cannot leave. My logic was we traveled all the way; hence, we must do justice to the destination. Our time allotted to the justice-ing was off between each other. But as always we found balance. We let each other be but we couldn’t be more in sync if we tried. He is kinder, softer and more attentive on such getaways. The phones get some rest and I get so much more face time with him. That’s why I’m addicted to these times and journeys. In the city, it’s a challenge. The phone (his Nexus 5) is the 2^nd wife I have had to adopt and give an occasional smile to. Anyways back to the road. We battled some pleasant and not so pleasant rains. The not so pleasant part is attributed to bad roads, potholes the size of craters and not so easily visible until too late and Abeer’s not so strong vision. Managing the gear, a huge helmet and glasses is not as easy as it looks convenient. I just kept his and my spirits up; we played road games scoring how many potholes he missed versus not and then kept count. On a long open road with no visible vehicle either in the front or back of yours, silly childlike games keep you going J When I would be upset and not respond and sit quiet for hours, Abeer, my love, would break that monotony with a big 5 in the air out of nowhere and I would wonder what just happened. I would see he just dodged a pothole and was scoring for us… we would burst into giggles and there would end our pseudo-feud. Silly me.

After what seemed like 3hours straight, we were up a steep hill climb, the valley view getting more picturesque, and the turns getting more sharper and dangerous. The view immediately took me back to the time I would be dropped off to boarding school by mum at the start of the academic year. The treachery of knowing I wouldn’t see her for a year would be eased by me riding in an expensive comfy cab in her lap. Here I was, behind my man, showing him parts of the state (Maharashtra) and places of my childhood. He loved and marveled at everything. We reached Panchgani at early noon, after a brief stop at Harrisson’s Foley. We went straight to Table Land and witnessed the lake, the valley and a bad angle view of the Devil’s Kitchen. Little walks and views were followed by some much needed Maharashtrian infused lunch. Dosas (very different), missal and ussal pav and what not. We rode some more down the road, passed my school Kimmins High school where I just HAD to squeal, some ogling at lovely homes and properties, and straight through a divine road with intervals of Malas and Mapro depots and signs. Mapro of course dominating with Malas as its sidekick. For the lesser informed, Mapro and Malas are brands/companies who specialize in sweet treats, jelly and fruit confectionary, berries and jams, crush and syrups etc. A whole load of sweet to put you in confectionary heaven. THAT is what I will eventually use to describe the Mapro Farm (an absolute must visit). We were disappointed not to find any fresh strawberries or mulberries that we so desperately chased but realized it’s out of season. We settled for their homemade ice cream and toppings and bought some amazing organic honey and jams to take back. I also shopped some ridiculously cheap scarves and a pair of biking gloves at a Kashmiri handicraft store. In Mumbai, there would be attempts to rip me off with 3 figure demands and much haggling. Here the digits fell to 50 bucks and 250 bucks, respectively. I got greedy and didn’t haggle at all :D

Pause

We rode further down to Mahabaleshwar. Going to some signature points like Kate’s point, Echo valley etc. spent much time there and moved on. It was breathtaking and I managed to steal a pic of 2 haggard, roughed up bikers standing next to each other. Hardly the loved up scene I wished to capture. We stopped by the town’s only CCD and paused for a good amount of time. Drank 2 coffees as my biker boy exclaimed that we were ahead of schedule so we had that precious time to waste and while away. Which we did where our numb behinds finally had restored sensation. Coffee and recommended bathroom breaks after we rode back to Pune. The ride was fantastic through Wai until we hit the traffic of Pune. The welcoming pollution and maneuvering traffic was worse than the downpour we endured on our return journey. We went straight home, cleaned up and went to Dorabjee’s where I ate like I hadn’t been fed in a decade. Wolfed down was more like it with one leg on the chair like a Panchayat head. Everyone else around me thought what a pretty but hungry girl. Wonder why she looks so starved. Hahaha. The rest period was good bonding time. Checks and gossips over music and what we can do next. What trips and what routes. What scenes and what gear. What went wrong and what we can do better. Our amusement for the day was when we passed a group of seasoned Royal Enfield riders who took great offense to our new tan Classic version overtaking their hierarchically synchronized ride. They eventually made some dangerous cuts in traffic on the National highway to prove a point and overtook us… I think my bubblegum pink Vega helmet added insult to injury…. Lol… Boys…

Abeer and our bebe

Mumbai return trip was beautiful and perfect. Relaxed with stops to the smog engulfed Lonavala valley, a cup of boiled butter corn from our usual suspect and going through dewy rainwashed routes. We stopped briefly parallel to Khopoli on a lone route taken only by bikers once you get off the expressway. The scene was straight out of a book or photoshopped magazine cover. We paused to take some pictures which eventually earned us rave reviews and a great many fans (miniscule but great for us). It was EPIC. The city entry was divine followed by nightmare of sore backs, painful legs, near-exploding bladders, growling stomachs and torrential downpour. It was probably the 1^st time in 3 days I just wanted to get off the bike and lay flat and not get back on. Yep it was the too-much-of-a-good thing syndrome. Abeer was exhausted. Through this journey I solemnized that I would fulfil my dream of learning to ride one of these babies and have the ability to take over when Abeer needed a break. If we were gonna be biker hogs then me riding pillion forever would be a very selfish move for him as well as for my dream. So I returned with a good trip, good memories, loads of newfound love for the road, our trips, new passions and my man. I also came back with determination for a better week, a new journey to plan and to learn a new skill :)

Watch out for BiKronicles III. For pictures of the journey, visit my Instagram handle (gatacdo7) and Abeer’s (tipsies).

Backpacker (Mumbai): Creating diaries!

“A true traveller has no destination.” Excerpts from an anon source and modified by me. Smart effects of 30 I think…

It was a random mention by Abeer about adding Gokarna to our travel. By now he and I had ‘travelled’ many exotic locations in conversations over Starbucks offerings and some of our delectable meals over the many metro adventures we had traversed post-work. I wanted the Kerala experience with the backwaters and the romance in the air with tropical sunsets, dewy mornings, golden skin and bare minimum clothing. Yep I did. I needed more than a single tree and a pavement and unwelcome stares at my higher hemmed skirt. Gokarna - which until now was a familiar sounding town in my basic geography- landed on my holiday trail as the biggest tourist destination. 

Curly and packed up Kat

I read up n researched it like my beau does about things. I grew more and more fascinated. I worked feverishly through my whole work quota well before time and managed somehow to finish 3 weeks’ worth of work in 1 week. Behaved like a million dollars lay at the end of this trip. For me this was more than a trip. It was time away. Away from the city and gadgets and comforts and all that was familiar. It was uncorrupted organic time with Abeer which would involve looking at each other instead of phone screens and sharing real emotions instead of expressing them through startlingly and readily available smileys on EVERY social medium. It was important to me. Our 1^st trip away. Esp. with the jolt of dealing with unplanned or cancelled trips in the recent past.

My love

I agreed to go rustic and backpack – live like how he did. I wasn’t afraid to explore cuz I had the best guide who had literally been-there-done-that. His experience and “who plans!?!”  attitude appealed to me. We were perfect. I planned and cribbed and called and informed ahead. He just trudged along and made decisions that lay enroute. I was afraid that if I didn’t bring up the trip once in a while or discuss or plan it, it would cease to exist save for a few notes in my calendar. That’s why when Abeer’s office folks granted him the leaves; even courtesy checking with me for the EXACT dates, I was floored. J

As tradition goes, we fought before the trip. Actually, we don’t fight anymore. We have maun vratts (silent treatment) followed by exchange of caustic to citrusy dialogues. Until one of us adds some much needed sugar to balance the flavours and bring back the love. Yep… we are pastry. Since Abeer is the natural chef between us… he usually adds the sugar and I am more than happy to be dusted with all that icing. So we made up a day before the trip, packed a few hours before the trip, had a squabble and make up enroute to the 1^st leg of the trip and then settled in as us. We were kids. I wanted JUST that. Thus began our train diaries on the Ltt-Mangalore Matsyagandha Express. Until the train didn’t jolt its start from the station, I ceased to believe that the journey had begun indeed.

Sunset from the door of the Matsyagandha Express

Here on I looked forward to some LSD between Abeer and moi. I realized I should’ve carried my Nikon camera cuz the perils of clicking from your phone is that you spend the next hour instagramming it, checking for likes and comments, grumbling and fumbling for network and then needlessly ignoring the REAL picture – us. I didn’t care for any squabbles. I wanted to be loved up and wanted to do the same to my man. Over the next 10 days <3

Gokarna – Mangalore – Kerala – Goa – Whatever randomness that lay ahead.