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This travelogue is participating in Wrangler True Wanderers 3.0 contest. If you like what you will read ahead, please consider voting for me on: True Wanderers 3.0 - Finalist Travelogues
Comments most welcome!
Trailer of things to come
An unexpected call
About the contest
The truewanderer contest is a unique platform, where two different breeds of homosapiens, one of crazy bikers, and other of corporate professionals, come together for a common goal. The interaction is often amusing, and sometimes bewildering. For example, as a motorcyclists I was prepared for touring related questions, but then myntra guys bowled me over with fashion related interviews!
Route
Once upon a time
Preparing for the ride
Collecting the tees and denims from Wrangler store was a joyous process. I tried a number of tees, and had a hard time finalizing the ones that would join me on this tour. The denim selection was comparatively much fast, as the main criteria was fit.
The gear
This travelogue is participating in Wrangler True Wanderers 3.0 contest. If you like what you will read ahead, please consider voting for me on: True Wanderers 3.0 - Finalist Travelogues
Comments most welcome!
Trailer of things to come
An unexpected call
When I entered in the Wrangler True Wanderer 3.0, I recalled my entry 3 years ago, in True Wanderers 1.0. I had been a part of the final ten of that contest, and I had an idea how things would move on if I were selected. As per my last experience, if I were to be selected in this contest as well, then I would get a call a few days early before the announcement of the result. Someone from xBHP would first confirm availability and my sanity whether I could ride for seven days, and then only my name would go on the final list.
As the result announcement date - 12 April 2014 - approached closer, my hopes of being part of this TW3.0 diminished gradually. I could see some travelogues getting 3000-4000 votes, and would wonder, what chance do I have against such giants of social networks, who have such great network of people!
I could feel my heart drop a gear and give accelerator, such was the sudden increase in my heart beats. Could it be? But how could it be? But then what else could it be??! I gave some lame reasons excusing myself out of the meeting room, and picked up the call. Astonishingly, it was for informing me the possible selection of the top 10. However Sunil did not confirm for sure that I was selected, he said that I had a chance and could only be confirmed once they declare the list on the truewanderer.in website.
About the contest
The truewanderer contest is a unique platform, where two different breeds of homosapiens, one of crazy bikers, and other of corporate professionals, come together for a common goal. The interaction is often amusing, and sometimes bewildering. For example, as a motorcyclists I was prepared for touring related questions, but then myntra guys bowled me over with fashion related interviews!
This time, Wrangler has launched some new collections of denims and tees, named Sun Shield and Silver Shield. I will be wearing this collection on my ride for next seven days, and will review the performance of these collections once I finish the ride.
Route
Once upon a time
Once upon a time in a far away land
there lived a wanderer, a mighty happy man
everywhere he'd go, he'd mingle and jingle
Everywhere he'd go, he'd march his band
there lived a wanderer, a mighty happy man
everywhere he'd go, he'd mingle and jingle
Everywhere he'd go, he'd march his band
When he was a tiny lad, he'd bobble everywhere
Walking for all afternoon, holding his dad's finger
And especially devoured were the trips out of town
This was a time where he enjoyed on his own
Walking for all afternoon, holding his dad's finger
And especially devoured were the trips out of town
This was a time where he enjoyed on his own
The years kept on rolling, and the lad kept on growing
Like every teen-ager, he too tried to be all-knowing
but the world kept him on leash, humbling him down
soon he found his nirvana was in exploring the lands around
Like every teen-ager, he too tried to be all-knowing
but the world kept him on leash, humbling him down
soon he found his nirvana was in exploring the lands around
He kept on yearning to explore, taking paths, trains and buses
Depended on people and friends who made tall promises
That we'd go here and we'd do that, this Sunday for sure!
Just to get busy somewhere and to forget all they said
Depended on people and friends who made tall promises
That we'd go here and we'd do that, this Sunday for sure!
Just to get busy somewhere and to forget all they said
No more was he bounded by fake commitments of others
No more was the need to depend on anyone else
Be it summer or winters or blazing monsoons
All he needed was his motorcycle and himself
No more was the need to depend on anyone else
Be it summer or winters or blazing monsoons
All he needed was his motorcycle and himself
He learnt in his rides, not matter what part of the land
People just looked different, yet moral was same for all their stories.
Everyone was slave of their own selfish desires
Everyone was a prisoner of his or her own worries
People just looked different, yet moral was same for all their stories.
Everyone was slave of their own selfish desires
Everyone was a prisoner of his or her own worries
Preparing for the ride
Collecting the tees and denims from Wrangler store was a joyous process. I tried a number of tees, and had a hard time finalizing the ones that would join me on this tour. The denim selection was comparatively much fast, as the main criteria was fit.
I was very happy to see that I needed one size less that usually required when I tried the Silver shield jeans. However, later I found that I require the normal size in the Sun shield collection. So please keep this in mind when you are buying Wrangler denims.
I never get to have so many bags full of new clothes for my own!
After collecting the attires from the Wrangler store, getting the stickers to paste around the bike, and managing to finally cool the nerve, I was slowly getting ready to ride. Maharashtra weather gods were no mood to show mercy though. It continued to be rising mercury for most part of the day, and the idea of getting slowly roasted was hardly enticing, if at all.
Even though the full plan refused to materialize, I had a definite idea where I would begin, even before getting selected in the TW3.0 contest. It must be an exotic place, so beautiful that it should be out of this world, and one of a kind. And I knew just the right place.
The gear
I am also carrying a Dell laptop for typing my thoughts, as no mobile has big enough keyboard for a person with finger-eye coordination like me.
The day began early, and I am sure even Vesta was surprised to being woke up so early.
Now that Vesta stood gleaming bright after the bath and polishing session, I started to put on the armor on her. The custom made saddle bag carriers made to protect her side panels from scars from the bags, the mount for the Wrangler flag, the extra cables, all made their way one by one on Vesta, taking a liter of my sweat (and some took parts of my blood too, those damn tight nuts!).
Then came the time to put on all the stickers of the sponsors on my helmet and my ride. Removing a sticker, especially a complex one such as cursive Wrangler, can be quiet tricky. It led to many situations that could have led to divorce had one of the quarreling parties (generally me) not taken a calmer stand. Finally the stickers too found their respective places in the world, and I was ready to move out.
Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, I zigzagged through the maze called city roads, and parked Vesta in front of the Wrangler showroom, bang opposite Sambhaji Park, on JM road, one of the most prominent roads in Pune.
We were enthusiastically welcomed by the store persons, and glasses of sugarcane were thrust in our hands.
We were give a free reign to pose around the store and click ourselves. The store packs most collection of Wrangler, and it is worth a visit if you are planning to buy denims or tees.
Finally, it was time to take off, and the persons from the Wrangler stores as well as neighboring shops gathered around in curiosity.
I am sure other contestants too would agree with me, that this is perhaps the best time of the trip. Here you are, with your motorcycle throbbing under you at 1300rpm, and you feel the your own gloves grabbing your hands wishing you good luck, your own jacket and denim hugging you to give you moral support, and your helmet showing only those things worth seeing. You see people in front of you, with their eyes full of curiosity, and care too if it is a friend or a loved one. It is this moment that you realize you have become a wanderer.
The old temple at one side has an idol for a Goddess of many faces. I could not find a back story, but my guess is that the Goddess represents the potholes of the site. Such was amazing faith of the believers that the pots were not sights of the devil, but rather a sign of a Goddess.
Day 2 - Little bits of craziness
From Shikrapur, I took a left for heading towards the village, and the scene turned partly urban-rural type to fully village scene in a matter of kilometers. Soon I was out of the manmade jungle of flats and plots and dubious schemes advertising proudly on both the sides of the road. The view changed completely, and I smiled under my helmet to see green fields popping in view from both sides. Fields where men and women invested their sweat and their lives to see them bloom, and not depend on fooling anyone for making a living.
I stopped at a lush green field of coriander. Coriander is an important part of the Indian meals, and I have always seen it being quoted at the lowest price in vegetable market. Looking at the big field with people working intrigued me, and I parked Vesta next to the field.
A whole family along with couple of workers was working in the field. Seeing the size of coriander rolls collected at one side, I could see they were working on it for a long time. Here I was, cribbing about the Sun and the heat, and here they were, working under the very same Sun at the very same temperature, happy that they were working for the betterment of their family.
There were a bunch of kids following me around all over the field with curiosity, so a parting shot with them.
The roads were good, and I should have been making good speeds, but the calm green views at both the sides were so inviting, that it was hard to ignore them.
But the field of pomegranates is a different matter altogether, so I went it and clicked around.
The entrance to the field was beautiful.
Soon I was heartily welcomed in Chincholi Morachi by a sign board that heartily welcomed all its readers.
I noticed there were a number of home-stay options. Some looked very professional and inviting, while some looked way too rough. Mine was out of the village, right in a field, so I passed all the home-stays in the village, bumping in every speedbreaker that every home-stay has installed around its gate.
The home-stay I was staying had some dirt road to cover. Just when I entered this dirt road, two suicidal kamikaze chameleons, one after another jumped in front of Vesta, and almost made me fall due to sudden braking and turning in the sand to avoid hurting them. Afterwards, I decided I would not to be so kind henceforth and would let them meet their destiny on their dangerous game. Perhaps they too sensed it, because I did not see them later. Or perhaps someone did arrange their meeting with destiny.
When I entered the home-stay compound, I was greeted by two peacocks grazing carelessly some distance away.
The road quality so far away from the main highway was surprisingly good, and I was able to manage a 70-80KMPH speed very comfortably. I never speed in residential areas, but on open roads, it is an invitation.
Rolling down fast towards Nighoj, I entered a bridge at speed, and was mesmerized by the beauty at both the sides of the bridge. I stopped despite the hurry to move on, such was the calm beauty of the place. Sun was setting at one side of the bridge, and it looked stunning in the reflection in the mirror-like calm water underneath.
Rolling down fast towards Nighoj, I entered a bridge at speed, and was mesmerized by the beauty at both the sides of the bridge. I stopped despite the hurry to move on, such was the calm beauty of the place. Sun was setting at one side of the bridge, and it looked stunning in the reflection in the mirror-like calm water underneath.
After a quick photo-session, I moved ahead to Nighoj, cautiously asking my way around. There are lots of turns and twists in the village roads, and one unknown turn would land you far away from your original destination. Later I realized that I was not needed to be so cautious, as it happened to be a day of the fair of the Gods on the banks of the potholes, and whole surrounding populace was heading towards Nighoj.
Due to this fair, I had a lot of company from people from various parts of the neighborhoods. While I reduced my photography possibilities, it enlightened me to see and meet and greet so many new people at one place.
Ranjankhalge, the place of potholes, by itself is very beautiful and very scary at times. Some of the potholes were better called stand alone hills, with deep crevices. After a good amount of walking and searching, I managed to get some good photos to introduce Nighoj to many new readers who might not know of it.
Testing out my Wrangler Sun-Shiled collection
A shaky footbridge connects two temples that are on the two sides of the river.
The river flows with such strength that it brings not just the stones but also bigger objects with it.
The old temple at one side has an idol for a Goddess of many faces. I could not find a back story, but my guess is that the Goddess represents the potholes of the site. Such was amazing faith of the believers that the pots were not sights of the devil, but rather a sign of a Goddess.
I also noticed an interesting phenomenon. Whenever someone would make a donation, an announcer would speak in a loudspeaker announcing to the vicinity the name of the donor and the amount donated. Sometimes (actually a lot of times), I have observed that the higher donations are given priority over smaller donations, those donors are treated better etc. However in this temple, I noticed that the announcement were equally enthusiastic for all range of donations, so I listened an announcement of a donation of Rs. 1001 followed by equally toned announcement for Rs. 11 as well. Felt happy to know that Bhagwan ke ghar sab saman!
The fair was closing down, and the sellers were packing their goods. There was a great hustle at the sight, now that the night was falling and everyone wishing to head home in his or her warm bed.
I too made way to Vesta, standing serenely in the parking lot, and proceeded to my stay for the day.
Day 2 - Little bits of craziness
I threw on my pajamas, grabbed my camera bag and ran outside. The peacocks were coolly grazing near the house. Yesterday there were only two males, today they were joined by many females as well.
I felt like a dog today morning, and chased a lot of peacocks with a grin on my face. The field was fertile, and the owners were making full use of the land. In one part, they had planted mango trees which were carrying raw mangoes. The sight of ripe mangoes at such a low lever must be quite exhilarating.
After a round or two of homely breakfast, I was ready to move out. The home stay owner gifted me two feathers of peacock, shed some time ago.
On my way, I saw a poultry farm, and halted there. Many broiler chicken were there, awaiting their day of ending up in some meal. Went in to click their photo, only to have my nostril hairs burnt. The strong stench of the hens was horrible! And the care taker was roaming around without any visible sign of distress due to the stink. Guess he had lost the smelling sense a long time ago.
One non shaky photo I could manage with one hand, while other gripped my nose:
While my plans were grand, my execution proved to be awfully poor. As per the map, I decided 3-4 halts that I would ask people around, to move forward. I must have made some mistake somewhere, because when my calculations showed the destination should be 5 kilometers away, people around were giving me looks as if I was asking direction for the moon!
Some sights along the wrong way:
I parked Vesta at the scampering shadows of a colourful Gulmohar (Delonix regia) tree, and made my way to the small flight of stairs.
The temple is made up of black stone, and as with any black stone, it was H-O-T due to the Sun. I removed my shoes and tip toed my way inside, hushing and hissing due to the heated floor. However once inside the temple, you climb one storey up through the stoney path, and it is surprisingly much cooler. I forgot to take a reading, but I guess it was at least 4-5 degrees cooler if not more than outside.
The carvings are extremely intricate, depicting dancers and tigers and elephants. There is even a carving of God Ganesha in a woman's form, called Lambodari or Ganeshyani.
A little meditation in the temple, after all motorcycling is a kind of meditation for the wanderer!
I came out of the temple, donned my shoes and looked at my surrounding. Being situated on top of a hill, the temple and the campus offers excellent views all around. It is the season of the Gulmohar bloom; many of them were sporting excellent colours, and were looking soothingly calm against the bright backdrop of 12 noon Sun.
I had choice of routes, and I chose the fastest one, from Pune Satara highway. Consulted the GPS and it showed that the highway was only 50 kilometers from me, and once on the highway, I would not have to care for bumpy internal roads and would make up good time.
(Sorry for the out of focus photo, I guess my camera skills need a lot of brushing up!)
Once I was on highway, Vesta started chatting with the wind. Soon we were at 90-100KMPH, and we were munching kilometers as fast as possible. The big guys of the road, buses and trucks, were not idling on the sides either. They too took part in the race and dominated their way throughout. In one such tricky overtake, I smelled some burning rubber, but that smell disappeared once I overtook a sluggish truck on an up-climb. I wondered whether it was just a smell from his tires, or whether my smelling sense was not yet recovered by the strong hen coop stench this morning. Yet I kept a mental note to stop wherever there is some shadow on the highway to park Vesta.
As luck would have it, there was no shadow anywhere for next 20 kilometers. Once I passed a toll booth, I stopped on a side of the road with little shade from a tree, to check the reason for smell. I need not look hard, the smoke marked its way clearly. The right side of my saddlebag was evidently touching the exhaust, and smoke was rising fast from the top of that bag.
A tempo too braked hard ahead, and its driver and his assistant came running to me.
The driver engaged in a conversation of the whereabouts with me. While we were waiting for the smoke to subside and the exhaust to cool down, suddenly the assistant cried out loud.
And ran hurriedly to his tempo. Startled, I looked at his tempo to see which part caught fire, but in an instant I realized he was shouting about me. The smoke rose at an astonishing rate, and I could see small flames dancing around in the saddlebag!
I quickly put away my camera, and remembered I had refilled my quota of drinking water in last village. I threw the water both from the outside of the fire as well as poured in the bag. The little fire was put out before it could do any substantial damage.
The assistant who shouted and ran away came back with a bottle of water. It was half the size of the one I was holding, and was partly filled. The driver looked at the bottle and his face turned very ashamed. Trying to act cool, he took the half filled small bottle and offered it to me.
Luckily, the wrangler clothes were in tank bag, so main part of the clothes was saved. When I finally opened the burnt clothes, I found that mainly my Jockeys and VIPs were the victims of the unfortunate event.
Once on the highway, I regained my composure, and resumed high speed riding, albeit with a heightened sense of smell. Fortunately the exhaust kept its respectful distance from the saddle bag, and there was no fire incidence that day.
I halted at Satara, at one of the big hotels by the highway famous for their Non-Veg Thali.
After a scrumptious lunch, with heavy tummy and drowsy eyes, I continued on the highway. It was so hot by now, I could feel the heat radiating from the highway surface, from the hot engine running hard at 90KMPH, and from the Sun glaring down at high steam. I could feel what a fish must be feeling in a pressure cooker! Cutting through the hot air encompassing us, Vesta rode through hurriedly to get away from this inferno.
Actually Koyana nagar is a huge area, and when one wants to visit Koyana nagar on tour, he or she means to visit the village Humbarle. Once you take on the climbing road winding upwards from the ST stand, you pass a number of good hotels. I chose the last one situated at the top. After the regular questionnaire of who, what, where, I was allocated a room with an excellent view of the water front. I confirmed whether the lights would be available all the time, and got a very affirmative answer. The reason behind this conviction was revealed on the next day.
My room had a nice balcony overlooking the Koyana Dam. Even though the water had receded, still the sight of such huge water body surrounded by green trees on all sides gave me happy feeling inside. After getting cooked in the burning highway heat, I truly appreciated what green trees and blue water could do to a thirsty soul.
After dinner, when I sat in the balcony looking at the lake somewhere in the distance, I recollected the events of today and kept on smiling. It was all craziness, to run around peacocks, to offer sweets to God and actually have them accepted, to ride so hard that the bag would catch fire, to decide the destination for the night as and when the time arises. But this was just what I needed, little bits of craziness, to preserve my sanity in this mad world.
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