The best trips are those, made without plans. Impromptu. Said a wise man (Me).
Brain damaged by planning and scrapping close to a million outings, 450 and me thought we would go biking. 'Thinking of going biking to Belur- Halebidu-Chikamagaluru. Joining me? ' was the message. Immediately leaves were applied and the deal was sealed.
Come Monday morning, and we were off on our bikes (oh, those awesome bikes). We left Mysore at 08:30 Hrs and took the Hunsur highway. It is a treat to ride on such roads, it really is. A short distance from the deviation off Hunsur road, we saw a quaint little temple by the banks of the River Laxmana Thirtha. 'Let's go and check it out' was the call. So we did. Unfortunately the temple was closed.
A few clicks and stretches later, we were on our way. Clement weather and sparse traffic on the road foretold of a good day for biking.
Crash course in tobacco curing/ syrupy tea
Just when we were about to reach Hole Narsipura, it began to pour. We quickly parked our bikes and rushed to the nearest shelter which we saw. It turned out to be a tobacco leaf curing unit.
We met some very hospitable and friendly folks there, who arranged for a round of piping hot and sweet tea for everyone, and explained the process of tobacco curing. After the leaves are plucked, they are dried for around four days in huge kilns made of mud, with steel pipes running through them.Firewood is burnt outside and the heat carried inside dries the leaves, after which it is sold in the local markets. The warmth of the cinders was a welcome relief to us, soaked in the rains.
Mavinakere
We set out from here and made our way to our next stop, Mavinakere temple, along the highway. A paved road and a flight of steps take one to the top of the peak, where the temple is situated. It provides a good view of the surroundings. A row of windmills far far away made for some pleasant viewing, it foretold us of what was to come.
As we resumed our journey we were greeted by more interesting sights on the way. We came across ISRO's master control facility, from where our satellites are monitored and controlled. Nestled in a location surrounded by fields of spices and flowers, the facility looks alike an anachronism, with all its huge dishes and watchtowers.
Deja Vu
From here we made our way to Dwarasamudra (Halebeedu). It used to be the capital of the erstwhile Hoysala kingdom. As me and 450 were bad in history, we decided to employ the services of a guide. From then on, it was Deja vu.
Even though you might not have visited Belur and Halebeedi, to go there is a trip down memory lane. It is to go back to your childhood and swell in nostalgia. It is to revisit with warmth and fondness, the stories from your mom, listening to which you grew up, so that you could plunge headlong into the future, armed with the same. It is to nod vigorously (not head bang), when the guide speaks of govardhana giri Krisnha and other stories. The place defines what poetry in stone means.
We were told that the temple was built over a period of around 800 years. The carvings on the stone are of an amazing level of complexity, and Never had I seen such great detail on stone. It is the pinnacle of utmost devotion and dedication over generations of sculptors, art of unimaginable beauty. My jaw had to be forced shut on coming back to reality. It was equally painful to see many of these sculptures plundered and ravaged by many an invasion, the latest of these heinous acts being attributed to the British.
Belur
With dusk approaching, we moved on to Belur, when rains greeted us on the way. We decided to ride in the rain, and in the confusion, we overshot our destination. Hungry, wet and tired on reaching Belur, we indulged in snacks and tea. The rain subsided and we made our way to the temples. Basking in the afterglow of twilight and drenched in the rain, it was another sight to behold. It is bigger and more grand than Halebeedu. We hitched along with a group who were looking around, with a guide. There is only so much that one can grasp, so much beauty than one can admire in a day. This was a brutal attack , an overdose. Sections of pillars made of stone, which can rotate (!!), filigree on maidens carved in stone, an impossibly detailed ceiling. I questioned reality, conjured theories of advanced alien civilizations, whose handiwork the temples might have been so that we could get puzzled to no end, and got out of there before my fabric of reality would be crumpled beyond repair.
Chikamagaluru
We reached Chikamagaluru, where 450's uncle pulled a few strings and got a place to stay at the p.w.d guest house. After dinner at planters court, we called it a day. The next day we would ride up Karnataka's highest peak, Mulayangiri. As we approached the base, the imposing sight of the range presaged what was to be. Clouds lay claim over the top. They hid the grandeur of the hills and accentuated its beauty at the same time. We made our way up the snaking path, our awesome bikes making easy work of the gradient. Riding in the fog, an experience to have. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road, with the pepper white clouds beckoning a potentially fatal gaze towards them. The roads got narrower and the winds, stronger. Visibility had dropped to a few metres. This was the high point, euphoria. To know that you cannot see beyond a point, flirting with danger stealing glances at natures bounty, the wind threatening to nudge you off the cliff. The moment is lived. It was to float in a dream.
We reached the top cautiously. At the peak we parked our bikes against the wind, which was so strong that we really feared that it would flip our bikes over, into the chasm below! We clicked a few pictures and headed to Kemmanagundi.
Kemmanagundi
This 20-odd km stretch took a hour and a half to cover. The road was almost non existent. In its place was loose rocks and slush mixed in a dangerous recipe thanks to the incessant rains. In many places,gushing rivulets had lay claim on the roads. We treaded carefully and made it to the destination in one piece. Cold, battered and tired, a couple of piping hot bread omlettes and syrupy tea infused warmth and life into us.
Home
The next morning we set out back to Mysuru. We came across the wind turbines along the way and made our way up the hill where they were situated. It provided a nice view of the surrounding regions. Standing below the mighty turbines was scary, with the strong winds whipping the three long blades into motion. It was reassuring that here clean energy was being produced, in a world threatened by rising amounts of Carbon di oxide.
Overall it was a great feel good trip. It is always amazing to be on the road with your bike, to travel to different lands, to know our wonderful culture and rich history, at the same time to take detours according to your whims. Who knows what you will find :)
Brain damaged by planning and scrapping close to a million outings, 450 and me thought we would go biking. 'Thinking of going biking to Belur- Halebidu-Chikamagaluru. Joining me? ' was the message. Immediately leaves were applied and the deal was sealed.
Come Monday morning, and we were off on our bikes (oh, those awesome bikes). We left Mysore at 08:30 Hrs and took the Hunsur highway. It is a treat to ride on such roads, it really is. A short distance from the deviation off Hunsur road, we saw a quaint little temple by the banks of the River Laxmana Thirtha. 'Let's go and check it out' was the call. So we did. Unfortunately the temple was closed.
 |
| Pit stop 1: Arkeshwara Swamy temple |
A few clicks and stretches later, we were on our way. Clement weather and sparse traffic on the road foretold of a good day for biking.
Crash course in tobacco curing/ syrupy tea
Just when we were about to reach Hole Narsipura, it began to pour. We quickly parked our bikes and rushed to the nearest shelter which we saw. It turned out to be a tobacco leaf curing unit.
 |
| Curing tobacco leaves |
We met some very hospitable and friendly folks there, who arranged for a round of piping hot and sweet tea for everyone, and explained the process of tobacco curing. After the leaves are plucked, they are dried for around four days in huge kilns made of mud, with steel pipes running through them.Firewood is burnt outside and the heat carried inside dries the leaves, after which it is sold in the local markets. The warmth of the cinders was a welcome relief to us, soaked in the rains.
Mavinakere
We set out from here and made our way to our next stop, Mavinakere temple, along the highway. A paved road and a flight of steps take one to the top of the peak, where the temple is situated. It provides a good view of the surroundings. A row of windmills far far away made for some pleasant viewing, it foretold us of what was to come.
 |
| A huge boulder at Mavinakatte |
As we resumed our journey we were greeted by more interesting sights on the way. We came across ISRO's master control facility, from where our satellites are monitored and controlled. Nestled in a location surrounded by fields of spices and flowers, the facility looks alike an anachronism, with all its huge dishes and watchtowers.
Deja Vu
From here we made our way to Dwarasamudra (Halebeedu). It used to be the capital of the erstwhile Hoysala kingdom. As me and 450 were bad in history, we decided to employ the services of a guide. From then on, it was Deja vu.
Even though you might not have visited Belur and Halebeedi, to go there is a trip down memory lane. It is to go back to your childhood and swell in nostalgia. It is to revisit with warmth and fondness, the stories from your mom, listening to which you grew up, so that you could plunge headlong into the future, armed with the same. It is to nod vigorously (not head bang), when the guide speaks of govardhana giri Krisnha and other stories. The place defines what poetry in stone means.
 |
| Halebeedu |
We were told that the temple was built over a period of around 800 years. The carvings on the stone are of an amazing level of complexity, and Never had I seen such great detail on stone. It is the pinnacle of utmost devotion and dedication over generations of sculptors, art of unimaginable beauty. My jaw had to be forced shut on coming back to reality. It was equally painful to see many of these sculptures plundered and ravaged by many an invasion, the latest of these heinous acts being attributed to the British.
Belur
With dusk approaching, we moved on to Belur, when rains greeted us on the way. We decided to ride in the rain, and in the confusion, we overshot our destination. Hungry, wet and tired on reaching Belur, we indulged in snacks and tea. The rain subsided and we made our way to the temples. Basking in the afterglow of twilight and drenched in the rain, it was another sight to behold. It is bigger and more grand than Halebeedu. We hitched along with a group who were looking around, with a guide. There is only so much that one can grasp, so much beauty than one can admire in a day. This was a brutal attack , an overdose. Sections of pillars made of stone, which can rotate (!!), filigree on maidens carved in stone, an impossibly detailed ceiling. I questioned reality, conjured theories of advanced alien civilizations, whose handiwork the temples might have been so that we could get puzzled to no end, and got out of there before my fabric of reality would be crumpled beyond repair.
 |
| Belur |
Chikamagaluru
We reached Chikamagaluru, where 450's uncle pulled a few strings and got a place to stay at the p.w.d guest house. After dinner at planters court, we called it a day. The next day we would ride up Karnataka's highest peak, Mulayangiri. As we approached the base, the imposing sight of the range presaged what was to be. Clouds lay claim over the top. They hid the grandeur of the hills and accentuated its beauty at the same time. We made our way up the snaking path, our awesome bikes making easy work of the gradient. Riding in the fog, an experience to have. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road, with the pepper white clouds beckoning a potentially fatal gaze towards them. The roads got narrower and the winds, stronger. Visibility had dropped to a few metres. This was the high point, euphoria. To know that you cannot see beyond a point, flirting with danger stealing glances at natures bounty, the wind threatening to nudge you off the cliff. The moment is lived. It was to float in a dream.
We reached the top cautiously. At the peak we parked our bikes against the wind, which was so strong that we really feared that it would flip our bikes over, into the chasm below! We clicked a few pictures and headed to Kemmanagundi.
 |
| Crusaders in the mist |
Kemmanagundi
This 20-odd km stretch took a hour and a half to cover. The road was almost non existent. In its place was loose rocks and slush mixed in a dangerous recipe thanks to the incessant rains. In many places,gushing rivulets had lay claim on the roads. We treaded carefully and made it to the destination in one piece. Cold, battered and tired, a couple of piping hot bread omlettes and syrupy tea infused warmth and life into us.
Home
The next morning we set out back to Mysuru. We came across the wind turbines along the way and made our way up the hill where they were situated. It provided a nice view of the surrounding regions. Standing below the mighty turbines was scary, with the strong winds whipping the three long blades into motion. It was reassuring that here clean energy was being produced, in a world threatened by rising amounts of Carbon di oxide.
 |
| Me and my investment |
No comments:
Post a Comment