See the photos here
When I read ‘Paths of Glory’, the story of George Mallory, allegedly the first person to scale the Everest, I thought he was a mad man. Why the hell should he leave the coziness of his house, his beloved wife and children to face snow storms, blizzards and death? I didn’t know the answer then and I am not sure I know the answer now but I know the feeling. It was this feeling which made me attempt a Bangalore-Hyderabad trip on a bicycle rather than in the comfort of a zooming, air conditioned Video Coach often called The Volvo. The distance is approximately 600Km and my average speed is 20Kmph for around 90Km as against 80Kmph of a Volvo; cycling time would be 30 hours if I could maintain my average for the entire journey, but more likely it would drop due to fatigue and other unexpected incidents like punctures and accidents.
Why did I ever think of such a crazy idea? For one thing, I love cycling; riding within the city was not enough to test my endurance, I always returned home feeling I can ride more. That apart, it would be my best ever adventure, an achievement which I can boast about. Moreover, I left my hand pump in Hyderabad during my last visit so there was no point in carrying any puncture repair kit, but this did not deter me, it just made the adventure more adventurous. What would I do facing a puncture in middle of the lonely highway in the dead of the night? How long would I be able to ride and how fast? I was keen to find out the answers.
I posted my plan on the bike zone website and received many replies warning me about miles of featureless landscape, heat and crosswinds which might blow me onto the traffic - Volvos and Innovas. One guy, nicknamed cryptic_abbreviator, challenged me to do the trip, he offered to buy me six beers just because he wanted to meet someone who is truly mad. Why not start drinking beer this way?
“I am attempting a bicycle ride from Bangalore to Hyderabad. If I go missing, sorry! I have a few requests which I saved as a draft in my gmail account. Keerthi can break my password. Hint: *******”
Keerthi is my sister. I did not tell anyone about this plan, it was top secret, so was wondering what would happen if I go missing on the way – kidnapped or hit-and-run or a zillion other things. I came up with this idea, wrote this note and stuck it in my room. If I go missing, my room will be broken into and the note found. Jayanth gone missing on his way to Hyderabad on a bicycle sounded much better than Jayanth gone missing under unknown circumstances. It all seemed so movie like, just like in The Da Vince Code.
I wanted to keep my backpack as light as possible but I kept on adding things; few clothes, a towel, cell phone charger, ipod charger, soap, shampoo, oil, water bottle, glucose, cheese, cheeselings tooth brush, tooth paste, shaving kit, hand sanitizer, mini speaker etc etc. It became heavy but there was not one thing I could take out. I knew the straps would soon start cutting into my shoulders.
Day 1: Electronic City to Anantapur, 250Km, 6am to 12:30am
Everything packed, an informal Will ready in my Inbox and the pleasant climate, dressed in t-shirt, shorts, shoes, cycling helmet and gloves, I was ready to roll. I knew I was forgetting something and stood rooted in my room for a few seconds thinking. Convincing myself that I was just feeling apprehensive about the unconventional mode of transportation I hit the road. The smell of rain in the air was awesome and I started zooming towards Sarjapur from the IIIT Bangalore campus, Electronic City at 6am. After ten minutes I realized what I had missed, I put three eggs in my water heater before sleeping and forgot all about it. Chicken will be ready by the time I come back, I thought and jumped a signal on the Hosur Road, sniggering at a motorist who was patiently waiting for it to turn green.
I crossed the Bangalore International airport by 9am and with the help of glucose, water and a breakfast of Tomato Rice, I made it to the AP checkpost 125Km away by 2:00pm, 8 hours, 15Kmph. Volvos, Innovas and Civics were speeding past me, with speeds at least 5 times more but the cool breeze, the awesome misty landscape and the smell of wet freshly watered soil made me feel that it is sometimes necessary to slow down in life, travel not to make great time but to have great time.
I was famished and stopped at an AP tourism restaurant. It was beautiful with lawns, swings and slides. Hoping I was not too late, I secured my bicycle and rushed inside shouting “meals available?”. The waiter smiled and asked me to sit down. I choose a place beside the window, where the bicycle was clearly in view, I never want to let it go out of my sight. A thali filled with rice, sambar, rasam, curry, curd, papad, dal and a chapatti was placed in front of me. I smiled thankfully at the waiter but he was looking outside the window, wearing a puzzled expression. The moment the plate touched down on the table he rushed to the window and started frantically looking here and there, he then rushed to the door, looked around and then back towards me. I knew what was coming.
“Cycle?” he asked.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Ekkada nunchi?” (From where)
“Bangalore”
“Wow”, he exclaimed and I burst out laughing because of his accent, it showed he was awestruck.
“Endhuku?” (Why?)
“Holidays and nice climate”, I answered, hungrily devouring the food.
The occasional enquiries continued and after 8 hours of lonely ride, I was enjoying the conversation.
“Inko papad kavala?” he asked watching me gobble up the last piece of the first papad.
“No, its ok”, I replied but he walked to the kitchen and returned with a plate full of papads. The cycle earned me his respect and extra papads. I never ate so much and was full after two helpings of rice but he forced me take a third helping.
“Thinali mee lanti oolu”, (People like you should eat) he said smiling and I swept clean the third lump of rice. For the first time in my life, I willingly left a tip of Rs10.
After loitering around in the lawn for a few minutes, I resumed my journey. Next stop Penukonda, 34Km away. That milestone would make it 185Km in a day, from Electronic City to Penukonda.
Within five minutes, it started drizzling and in the next ten minutes it started pouring but I did not stop. For a cyclist, sun is the enemy, rain is more than welcome. I faced the sky and tasted a few drops of rain, it felt refreshing. But within the next half an hour, it started pouring so heavily that I had to take shelter in an abandoned house which was already occupied by a few village kids. I tried to use the time to catch some sleep but the village kids started bombarding me with questions. I guess they were amused by my attire - helmet, gloves and shorts.
"From where are you coming?” “Why are you wearing a helmet?” “What is the cost of the cycle?” “Why are you wearing gloves?” “Is there no need to pedal if you have gears?” “Your dress made us think you are a foreigner”
It was kind of funny on the road too. People traveling on two wheelers and autos would turn around to stare at me. When they noticed me looking at them, the reactions were varied – few stared back defiantly, few averted their gaze immediately, few used to turn away slowly, first look at the sky and turn away as if trying to tell me "I was not looking at you, I was just looking around".
The moment rain had abated, I ran away from the place. By 5:30pm, I reached the town of Penukonda but I was not at all tired. I didn’t want to stop, not even for tea. As I was leaving the town, I saw a huge statue of a giant with little men all over him. It appeared as if the little men were trying to wake him up, I took a small detour to take a few snaps. Since the place appeared closed, I resumed my journey without attempting to go in. Later I found out from Dad that the giant was Bakasura and there was a restaurant inside his tummy! Missed it!
Anantapur, 66Km away was my next stop and I expected it would take me at max 4 hours. This milestone would make it around 250Km on the first day. I would be there by 9:30pm, I assured myself as it was getting dark. But I was missing something, something dangerous, something which would reduce my progress to a clumsy crawl; there were no street lights on the highway! By 7:00pm it was pitch dark and at times I would be the only lone guy traveling on the highway for as far as I could see with absolutely no lights. I could not see anything except a faint white line which marked the corner of the road. Like Mo in Wall-E, I started following the line trusting that on a National Highway there would be no ditches or speed breakers. Trust, very important and very dangerous, it makes life run smoothly but sometimes is deviously powerful. Vehicles coming up from behind me would help me map the road ahead like guiding stars but the opposing traffic on the four lane highway was a nightmare. After being blinded with the headlights, I would be thrown into total darkness; it was like looking directly at a tubelight and then having a blanket thrown over; I was often left unhinged for a few seconds. Only once I lost my sense of direction and I started cycling almost perpendicular to the road, after several sharp corrections, I stopped and reoriented myself. Was it Virtigo?, well perhaps? The hilly landscape full of shadowy shrubs started scaring me. Images of bandits, ghosts and animals filled my head and beads of sweat covered my forehead. Diversions were the worst part, short dangerous stretches, dangerous because they were single lane. I had to get off the road to give way to impatiently honking vehicles behind me because of the heavy oncoming traffic. By 8:15pm, I saw a set of lights beside the highway and increased my pace. Thankfully it turned out to be a Dhaba, a Sarforosh style Dhaba with lots of trucks stopped around it, one of the trucks being repaired. A bunch of truck drivers were enjoying a Telugu movie, the owner was busy serving them and a dog sitting under the tree. There was a bed too! A typical village style barb wired bed under the tree. With tea, biscuits and Chappati from the Dhaba and cheese, Glucose and Cheeselings from my backpack, I settled down happily on the bed for some dinner. The rustling of the leaves, cool breeze brushing my face, the dog barking in response to a far off howl, faint sound of the TV, laughter from the crowd, it was altogether a different experience.
“Ekkada nunchi vachavu?” a middle aged man came over and asked.
(From where did you come)
“Bunalore”, I replied, my mouth stuffed with Chappati.
“Cycle lo na?” he asked surprised. (On cycle?)
“Yes”
“Military training?” he asked giving me a knowing smile.
“Something like that”, I replied smiling back not wanting to explain why I was doing it for time pass.
“Naaku telusu, lekapote yavaru ila cheyaru adi ratri”, he said with a knowing smile and walked away.
(I know else no one else will do anything like this, that too at night)
I saw him whisper something to his bunch and they all turned and looked at me. I just concentrated on the Chapatti.
“Mujhe gandu bhulaya! Kitna himmat!” someone shouted and I woke up with a start.
(How dare you call me a Gandu!)
It was 9:30pm, I happily slept off on the bed for almost an hour! There were more shouts and I watched as it turned out into a fight. Deciding it was time for me to leave and knock off a few more kilometers, I put on my backpack. The straps dug into my shoulders. It was time to do something about it. Five minutes later, I started wishing I had done this earlier. I strapped my water bottle and cheeselings to the front rod of my bike with my belt, towel and few other clothes. I wore two baniyans and two t-shirts which reduced the weight further and will save me from the cold too. With almost nothing in it, the backpack felt light and I, rather foolishly, resumed my journey at 9:40pm on the dark National Highway 7.
I reached Anantapur Bus Stand by 12:30am and the moment I entered the Bus Stop I was surrounded by Auto Wallas shouting “Sir Auto? Bicycle will fit into my auto”.
Dudes, I rode from Bangalore. I don’t need an auto!
I just ignored them and secured my bicycle to a pole. Two people were sleeping on a steel bench leaving enough space for one more guy; I joined them. Bitter cold, mosquitoes and honking of the buses allowed me to sleep only for a few hours and I was wide awake by 3am. Having nothing more to do in the bus stand, I slowly made my way out of Anantapur and headed towards the highway. The scariest part was a short stretch of road over a drain. I could hear water flowing but could not see anything, there was no white line to guide me, one wrong move and I would be off the road and into the drain. Slowly I reached the highway.
The crosswinds on the Highway were very strong, threatening to blow me onto the traffic. Out of the mist came a pair of headlights, zooming towards me and I jumped off the road in the last minute. With the news of the looming cyclone Laila, I decided saving a few hours is not worth the risk and was heading back when I found a few abandoned cement pipes beside the road, I just climbed on one of them and slept!
Day 2, Ananthapur to Kurnool, 150Km
By 5:30am it was dawn and few people were already milling around. I jumped off the pipe, stretched myself and started off. Sleeping in the cold mosquito infested places - bus stand and on cement pipes and saving a few bucks turned out to be expensive, I started feeling sleepy and dozed off a couple of times in the warmth of the sun while cycling. Unable to stand it any longer, I stopped near a milestone and tried to sleep behind it but zooming vehicles made the task impossible. Cycling a few yards, I found a partially constructed rectangular stone wall and happily slept for an hour with the cycle locked close to me.
The journey from Anantapur to Dhone through Gooty, 100Km was a nightmare. It took me 8 hours. Sleepiness and the hilly terrain made my progress very slow.
Dhone 34Km and after peddling hard the next milestone would show Dhone 33Km, Damn! All this hard work knocked just 1Km!!!!! It was then I decided that Kurnool, around 80Km would be my final destination, I cannot cycle alone 200Km another day!
Zooooom.. Vroooom.. Screech! I was eating glucose beside another milestone when I heard a Toyota Quallis screech to a halt and zoom back towards me. I was hoping it would be someone interested in talking to me but was not very hopeful because people traveling in Scorpios and Taveras would be more interested in real estate rather than a lone cyclist. I was concentrating on washing down the glucose stuck to my mouth.
“Gear Cycle?” asked the driver amused. The owner, sitting beside him, was looking at me with equal amusement; he was scanning me, my helmet, gloves, shorts, and shoes and then his eyes rested on my sleepy face.
“Yes” I replied with a bright smile.
They both got down and started inspecting my cycle asking the usual questions.
From Where? Bangalore. Wow. Till where? Hyderabad. In cycle? Will take a bus from kurnool.
The last answer made the owner look up at me sharply.
“Why bus?” he asked
“I am feeling tired, don’t think I can ride another day”
“Don’t break it, take rest in Kurnool. Rest for a whole day, in Hotel Mayura perhaps, and continue after a day. It will be an achievement” he said and I just smiled.
Yes! I am going to rest in Kurnool and complete my mission. I started cycling with renewed enthusiasm.
Rice, butter chicken and a proper nap in the Reliance A1 plaza strengthened my resolution to ride all the way. I even started thinking of cycling during the night so that I can reach Hyderabad by noon or latest by afternoon the next day. But,
What do people zooming in Innovas know how it is like riding a cycle alone?
The lonely ride and the extremely slowly trickling kilometers killed all my enthusiasm. I was not exactly tired and if there was a reason, I could have done the next 200Km but loneliness started creeping into my every nerve. The beautiful, rainy, hilly and lush green landscape of the previous day had been replaced by arid land full of small shrubs and I was tired of it. I wanted to go home, take bath with hot water and brush my teeth. I did not brush my teeth because I hardly slept.
“Cycle?” asked mom surprised.
I was home at last, at 2am. For mom it was a double surprise – me home and the cycle. She was expecting me to come in an auto sometime in the morning. Dad was fast asleep.
“I did a break journey and brought the cycle in the bus” I told her without elaborating. The details of my adventure can wait till morning.
Having taken a bus from Kurnool at 8:30pm, I reached the MGBS bus stand, Hyderabad around 1:20am. After the 400Km two day ride, the 20Km ride to my house from the bus stand was child’s play.
“You cycled all the way from the bus stand” she shouted and I burst out laughing.
“Yes” I told her and headed straight for the bathroom.
The next day I recounted my adventure. Mom freaked out and resolved to break my bicycle before I leave. But Dad, well he proudly tells everyone that I had come from Bangalore to Kurnool on a cycle.
I had only one regret, I should have completed the journey because I could have. But 400Km in two days sure is an achievement.
And of course, hats off to my RoadRunner, though it needs a full scale servicing, it never ditched me, never once a puncture and that was amazing. The rubbers of the brakes need to be changed and the gears recalibrated, apart from these, the ride still feels smooth as butter!
