Sailing through the ages over stormy oceans

The latest book I have been reading is "The Island Civilizations of Polynesia" by "Robert.C.Suggs". It was originally published in 1960, and I believe mine is that very same edition. I got it from Bookworm shop as a worn out second hand copy. Sad to say, the book came to parts while I was trying to read, and I plan to try and glue it back after I am done reading it. 

Now onto the key take-aways. I had later added some more content I could quickly research from Wikipedia and other sources to try and make this an interesting reference.

 The Polynesian islands were populated by people originally from around South East Asia.

The Melanasian islands, New Zealand, Australia and Indonesia had land bridges at some point, whereas the polynesian islands never had. At least this what I recall from the initial sections of how the islands weer populated. So this means the far flung Polynesian islands were majorly populated by a sea faring folk, braving unknown vast oceans and perilous shoals and reefs. The islands themselves were seldom hospitable, and so it must have taken many centuries of deliberate and accidental exploration to finally settle all islands worthy of being settled.

All this was studied on the basis of lots of data comprising of Anthropological data, Linguistic data, and finally lots of ongoing Archaeological evidences that is slowly setting the pieces in its right places. Of course, looking across such a vast swath of time, all evidences tend to have a huge margin for error, which is kind of taken for granted in this line of business.

Around the time of Word War II, the linguists of the world had researched and identified that the Polynesian language originated from Proto-Indonesian, and each island has since developed its own dialects. By figuring out the similarity between the various dialects, we have been able to underscore or sometimes question the different ages at which the different islands were settled and where the settlers came from.

Image source

Now I'll like to talk about some interesting tit bits I could remember about the various islands themselves:

The island known as Marquesas in the modern day, with the name attributed to its colonial discoverers, is believed to be the oldest settlement in the Polynesian triangle. By comparing various artifacts found on this island against those found on the other islands, a lot of migration path information has been derived by the archaeologists over the last century.

The Samoans ( I always read it first as Samosa ) developed a centralized village system with leaders claiming title rather than lineage, whereas their neighbours the Tongans developed a lineage based isolated family units. The Tongans were fierce warriors and often used as mercenaries in Fiji. This difference is mainly owing to the differences in the natural habitat of the two islands. While Samoa had huge tracts of fertile land capable surrounded by all other resources like clean water and quarries, Tonga had an its resources split across the islands. The split caused family units surrounding that area to become the sole source of this resource to the central authority, and they traded or fought for the remaining ones.

The Samoans ended up building huge fortified villages and large temples for their deities as the local leader was capable of feeding a huge number of workers for lengthy periods of time due to the huge surplus in food production. The Tongans were largely left to producing the bare minimum required and became adept at fighting wars.

Samoa and Tonga were the Western Polynesian islands from where the culture spread further to the east to the likes of Tahiti and Hawaii.

I didn't feel much elated about the Tahitians and Hawaiians as they seemed to build quite a good centralized society banking on good fertile lands, building large temples and fighting brutal wars for resources and politics. Every day civilization for you.. But of course the big islands had their own share of old stories of settlement, death and wars by which the dominant settlement was achieved.

The story of the Easter Islands is a complete different thing of its own. It has always been mired in controversy over the Moai statues. The wild theories themselves are so much fun to read. But the author here being a professional, quickly dismissed all of them and got to the business of using stratigraphic data to established the mode of settlement and probable ages. He quickly explains that unlike the other islands to its west, this eastern island was settled directly by the inhabitants of Marquesas Islands. Also, due to the lack of any proper vegetation and the islands being largely volcanic in nature, the unique statues and other petroglyphs paint a completely different landscape.

Then came the very interesting myths of the Moa birds and the Maori on the New Zealand, and their valour against the British colonizers. It all provided me lots of interesting topics to look out for further reading.

The varied stories of the Polynesians keeps telling us that the same set of people from the same areas or sometimes from the same family, end up in so many different ways, shaped by their land and their times. The arrival of the Europeans which we all consider as a major interruption in all such cultures wouldn't be the first, as they went through the cycle of discovering new lands, and often leaving old ones behind. But then they are not comparable as the former was more permanent, directed and intelligent erasure of roots. The journeying and discoveries only lead to expansion of culture in comparison. Needless to say, the arrival and settlement of the Europeans, often for the purpose of whaling, trading and general missionary purposes simply decimated the population with communicable diseases and forced eradication of culture.

I am not really exposed to any current day political elements or sentiments of the Polynesians. But seeing that some islands are still under the control of the British or the French, I can't stop wondering how hot things are in the idyllic vacation islands of the world.

Jungle diaries

[Been in draft for quite long. Not sure how to improve it further, hence publishing]

Having had thought through the idea of penning my jungle diaries umpteen times, I am not sure which way would sound best without unnecessary details. I now think I should try the narration style rather than the diary style.

The tale begins with me leaving for Mysore a day ahead of the scheduled date. I recall to date, how I forced myself to sleep extra as rest of my room mates left for their respective offices. I checked and rechecked my To-Do list and mentally made calculations for acquisitions. I had still many items pending in the list, and my plans were rather loose in nature (as it usually is) .

With no one to discuss with or consult, I just went about with whatever came to mind, hoping it would suffice, and set out for Mysore. Reaching there by evening, by a friend's grace, I set out with my acquisition plan. It involved going half way around the city and meeting other friends who had agreed to lend their equipments. Thanks to my pals who were into wildlife and travel, I received a sleeping bag and a pair of binoculars. With it, I felt I had enough stuff in my arsenal to survive in the jungle without too much trouble. I slept peacefully at my friend's place that night, content with the acquisitions.

Early next morning, I caught a bus to Ooty. The route to Ooty runs through the Bandipur forest and the conductor informed me that I could get down at some certain point and walk rest of the way to the gates. In the bus, I noticed many others who were dressed and carrying equipments like me. So I kept my eyes and ears tuned to catch any mention of the census. I had begun to feel nervous and excited at the same time as I had no idea where I was headed to, and what I ought to be doing there. A bit of spying helped to quell that stress a bit :)

Outside the gates, I met a few guys who had come in from various parts of Karnataka to participate in the census. These guys were excited and loaded with information about the entire process. I was able to quell much of my nervousness just by chatting with these guys. My lack of experience, company and language barriers did annoy me a bit, but I was just enjoying the moment, anticipating the unknown.

Soon enough, the inauguration was underway and the officials came forward to explain various aspects of the procedure of the National Tiger census. Coupling that with the chit-chat we were having amongst ourselves, I was able to build a rather decent image of what lie ahead.

After lunch, we were to be allotted our respective ranges. These ranges would be where we would be stationed for the entire period of the census. There was a considerable amount of excitement and apprehensions among the volunteers, as it seems the nature of experience varied across ranges. There were supposedly some camps deep in the jungle which provided excellent chances of spotting tigers and/or other highly sought after animals. These camps were also mostly inaccessible, provided with only bare necessities and in practice meant a real hard life in the jungle, fraught with danger of wildlife. On the other extreme of the scale, lie ranges which were on the outskirts, buffer areas and near the offices of the department, offering fewer or no wildlife, but overall a more comfortable stay. Needless to say, no one preferred the latter.

With the excitement rising, and many groups already talking about using their contacts and influence to get desired camps, I felt completely stranded. I had never even considered such a situation, and with no knowledge of which camps are good or whom to ask, I just sat quietly. Soon, the names of people allocated to various camps were called out, followed by varied responses and frantic requests for exchanges and adjustments. I could see that not all such requests were granted.

In the next one hour, I was allocated to some camp's name which I couldn't make out, and after following several instructions to change camps based on someone else's requests, I was finally asked to board a jeep. I silently did that, and found 5 others for company. We quickly got introduced to each other by the time the jeep reached our destination camp. Having completely lost sense of whatever was going on, I slowly recovered now and listened carefully to one of the fellows who seemed to know certain things. It was heart wrenching to realize from his words that we had been sent to probably one of the worst camps. Even worse than the fact that I was completely clueless was that I couldn't react to what was gonna happen next..

Jungle Diaries - A prologue

Memories of those days start from the initial impressions received about the entire activity from a friend. After hearing about the stories and the possibilities of volunteering for the wildlife cause, my imagination was triggered. Though I was somewhat skeptical and unsure about the whole thing at first, I decided to send in my application. At the time of submission, I was unsure if I would be selected, owing to my lack of prior experience, and I also had my tight schedules at work to deal with.

Within a few days, I was fully focused on matters at work and had forgotten all about this. Only when I received a mail notifying me to report to the Bannerghatta range, did I realize that I have been selected. But I was disappointed at having been allocated a semi urban reserve and tried hard to get in touch with the officials to get to know more about the reserve. The range officer in charge was rather welcoming and wished me to come over and have a 'nice' time. On my question as to whether any serious wildlife spotting could be done, his response was negative. I also realized that re-allocation wasn't possible without connections. So I let that idea rest.

Now, I was in a real fix. Being the first time I was attempting such an activity, I didn't want to spoil it over my higher expectations. On the other side was my manager whom I had to convince to get a week's leave from my responsibilities. After a bit of reflection, I decided to go ahead, as I knew I would enjoy it to whatever extent possible. Fortunately, my manager was supportive of the cause and asked me to prepare well and get back alive :)

Upbeat with this, and with support from friends, I started preparing for the one week stay in the earnest. It was during this time, that I noticed an NGO calling for volunteers for the same census to Bandipur National Park. I decided to try my luck and dropped my name into this list too, and to my fortune got selected through this list. Excited to be able to enter the famed tiger reserve on foot with official backing, my preparations went on with renewed vigour.

The clock ticked and finally the day was near. I had just finished 2 years at work, and after a memorable team lunch, I waved goodbye for the longest leave I had taken till then in my career.
With my bag packed with essential camouflage and equipment, I set off to Mysore, my old base for last minute acquisitions. With the help of some good friends, I got the much needed sleeping bag and binoculars as well.

Counting my lucky stars, and motivated by all the support, I set out alone early next morning, towards the jungle with high spirits, not fully knowing how my life would never be the same again.

To be continued..

the icy seductress

the soft gurgling noise of the icy rivulets fills the stark silence of the pitch black nights.

the silvery water keeps rolling and knocking against soft round pebbles that fill the river bed

the soft streams cradled among the rocky mountains seem to carry a strange divinity

I went to sleep every night with the same soft gurgling sound filling my ears, and the images of the clear blue water tumbling all along the rocks filling my mind before I lose myself into its magical hypnotism

dipping oneself into the hypnotic trance

I wake up each morning and walk over the icy rivulets and seat myself on the rocks by the river, often letting my limbs play with the flow of the icy waters. I kept wondering about the tiny streams flowing eternally, gracing rocks of all shapes, tumbling on and on, forming the shape of the land for huge distances, and making up the eternal cycle of life.

Clocks were seldom needed here as the river seemed tell the time in synergy with the sun and the thick mist. They together formed and dispersed all sense of time in the valley. They decide when you wake up and when you can summon enough courage to walk out of the tent. They decide when you get tired and when you get into slumber.

when ones very breathing moments are left to the mercy of the skies, the boulders around and the ever strengthening currents of the icy waters, life becomes a synchronous embodiment of the very same elements that surround us. In their company I had the strong sense of being alive as a human being again.

Left to the wild in a group of like minded and similarly witted human beings, man learns to create a sense of community and life among the forces of nature.

Felt like being close to the real purpose and sense of being human... again.. a sense of continuous rebirth :)

Image copyrights are owned by Cijo George

Chasing the monsoon - Season 5

Morning 4 AM:- I woke up with bleary eyes, staring at an unfamiliar roof. It took me a while to figure out where I was. I could make out the outline of the apartment we were put up in Pune. I must have slept like a log for at least 3 hours. Not enough, but given the length of journey lying ahead of us, I was quite content.

Day 2 planning started after a couple of hours once the other chasers were woken up from deep slumber.

I was hungry for adventure and the first day's lengthy rides along the green mountainous roads in the rain were just recce as far as I was concerned. We set out targets for the second day:- Lohagad and Lonavala. It took lots of back and forth discussions to get the routes and schedule right. Finally, the plan was made to hit the two spots asap and head onto Mumbai for the night. I was super excited at the prospects of this plan. I haven't been to Mumbai after a very short visit while waiting for our transit flight to Kochi when I was in my sixth grade. The distance and the prospect of the wild chase entering a large crowded city was challenging, but I trusted my mates who knew Mumbai well. We were off soon, powered by the wonderful Poha, Misal pava and Idly.

Around 60kms from Pune, Lohagad has been in my sights for more than a year now. I had fallen in love with the fort just by visual appeal.

A random album in facebook, narrative by a friend, and follow up research, all that ran through my mind as we made our way through the inviting Mumbai-Pune highway gunning our engines in high spirits.

 

The regular route to Lohagad involved a decent trek. The trek promised to be mesmerizing in the monsoon, and we were already proven monsoon chasers. The image of the lush green routes dripping with fresh rainwater was too exciting to ignore. But we had a practical problem to solve. Lohagad lay right in the path to Lonavala and if we chose to trek the Lohagad, all our plans would get delayed. The distance to Lonavala and Mumbai would never get covered if we were to walk up the Lohagad. So I reluctantly agreed to the plan to 'ride through' Lohagad and move onto Lonavala. At least that is what we could come up, using Google Maps for guidance.

The route to Lohagad takes a deviation from the highway at a point and goes through Kachcha roads and villages. In spite of being an extended weekend, there didn't seem to be much of a crowd. Only children walking along the road going to school or village women carrying pots of water on their heads were visible throughout the route. We were just beginning to wonder why we were the only people on vehicles, when we almost fell into the first ditch. Technically a pothole, but practically it was a well.

We had ourselves deep in dirt when the first pothole led to many more of varying sizes and complexities. Large ditches of mud and puddles meant we crawled through slowly, trying not to fall and make a scene in front of the pretty girls walking in large groups, around and through the same puddles. Keeping our minds firmly on the road and grips on the handles, we moved slowly to the tiny waterfall on the way. I was riding the unicorn rented from a friend of Sumeet, one of the three chasers. Keeping it in control was no small matter. After the trip, I would observe significant muscle development in the region of my right forearm, all thanks to the wonderful accelerator of this unicorn.

Anyway, no sooner had we taken a few customary clicks at the crowded waterfall, the heavens opened up and the crowd of youngsters vanished under rain coats and umbrellas. I felt very jealous. While they laughed and walked up the scenic rocky routes under their raincoats,

we had an almost impossible task to ride the slick FZ and the monstrously unyielding Unicorn up the 60 degree slope that was fast turning into a river of mud through slippery rocks the size of  footballs. We stopped at a small shop to ask some locals if we could ride the bikes all the way to the top and continue to Lonavala. The local fellows in the shop made a mockery of us and asked us to take an auto. Hearing that, all our frustration turned to pure determination and we rode ahead with renewed vigour and confidence, with only the cold rain leaving no spot warm on us.

And so started the long and precarious ride. I had never in my life attempted such adventures with bikes, and never so far away with someone else's bikes. The unicorn's accelerator too didn't help in making it any easier to traverse the boulders and maneuver on the slippery mud. We made slow progress and to the amazement of the small groups of trekkers, we managed to climb most of the hill without much incidents, apart from a few times when we had to push the bikes up to avoid slipping all the way down. Then we came to this..

My heart sank on seeing it. But there was no turning back. I could in no way rely on my physical strength to push the heavy unicorn up this one. We both gave it our best to climb up the almost 75 degree mess. There were no foot holds, no even surface. Only deep sticky mud with lots of loose rocks. Even after many attempts, we found ourselves close to the foot of this small hill, bikes already covered in thick layers of mud and hot fumes emanating from the engines. Fortunately for me, a local boy came along and offered to help. He took over my bike and I resorted to supporting him by guiding and pushing from the back. Aswin did the same to the lighter FZ while Sumeet was on the saddle. Slowly, painfully, we pushed both the bikes up the 50m slope. Puffing, panting and covered in mud, we were close to exhaustion. But relieved off the mortal danger we were in, we thanked the boy and paid him Rs 100.

The road began there and all the tension and pressure of the dangerous climb were soon forgotten as we rode freely through the heavy rains, surprising many a gang of trekkers who would have been basking in the glory of having climbed that hellish path. Yes, we did the ultimate. We rode on heavy bikes through that difficult-to-climb path. Our euphoria and excitement was back. I could imagine myself as the heavy cavalry of Hannibal that traversed the impossible Alps to launch a surprise attack at the Romans. Soon we had our fort in sights, and were more than ready to unleash ourselves on it.

The trek up the steps of the Lohagad was refreshing after two days on the bike saddle. I could feel the fresh oxygen energize every cell of my body as my mind was seduced by the naked beauty of nature that was draped in the thin veils of fog that hung almost everywhere. Strategically crafted pathways, bastions, towers, large gates, all covered in slippery green moss gave an eerie feeling to the entire place.

Only the thick white fog that hung everywhere and the water that flowed down the steps reminded one that the fort was no longer operational. But standing at an isolated tower, I got goosebumps imagining being under the watchful eyes of hundreds of carefully positioned guards of Sivaji.




Needless to say, I was in love with the fort in its wintery, foggy, wet outfit. But I also wanted to love its green version and marked in my heart to revisit the fort in another season. As usual, I had to be dragged out of the fort by my mates. That was a fort we fought hard to conquer! I had to say goodbye with a heavy heart..

Soon, we were on our way to Lonavala. There wasn't much of interest there. Tiger's leap was the only point that was recommended. But the heavy rains and thick fog which had begun rolling all over the region made it inaccessible to us. We had a long way ahead and decided to skip most of the places,and apart from a beautiful waterfall we stumbled upon by the road side, we mostly focussed on riding to Aamchi Mumbai..

some costly snacks

The roads were perfect, the scenery mesmerizing and the rain kept constant companion. As I was wondering how Maharashtra manages to provide such good roads everywhere, we hit an even wider road with mind blowing quality of lanes and it smelled of international quality. I was taken aback and we riders exchanged amused glances while maintaining the bikes at top speed.

It was not until we noticed the angry stares and constant honking of trucks and cars that we stopped to think. Then it stuck us.

We were in the Mumbai-Pune expressway. Wow!!! Jackpot!! Wait.. what did that board read? "Two-Wheelers Prohibited." Shit. We realized that if caught, it would not just be a matter of paying up. Three mud covered, unkempt youngsters claiming to be engineers from Bangalore riding a rented bike from Pune with almost no papers and a Karnataka registered bike in someone else's name, speeding at 100kmph in the heavy rains on the expressway on Aug 16th would need a lot of explaining.

the illegitimate ones..

 
That was exactly when the police jeep we saw earlier came round the corner, and I thought I could see the wicked smile on the officer's face. We were screwed..

To be Continued..

Aroma of Nilgiris - The memories

Its been almost a year since I went on the longest ride of my life - The Aroma of Nilgiris ride from Bandipur to Ooty. A mega ride of 80kms and 4560 ft altitude gain on the first day to Ooty and a 94km ride on the second day for the return. The 14 extra kms were kept aside for the expert ride to Doddabetta, a popular tourist spot within Ooty.

Phew. Thinking back to that event, I can say with certainty that it was one good decision I took to not sit in the side lines and wait until I was super fit or acquainted with long rides. It set the pace for many things to follow :-)

The ride was conducted on the 26th of January 2013. It was a saturday. The ride was conducted by Cycling and More. A bus was arranged to transport the riders overnight from Bangalore and a truck followed, carrying our bikes with it. At the pickup point, we met several enthusiastic and interesting people who came from various backgrounds,professions and age groups. We had short introductions between ourselves and were getting all excited about the ride as experienced riders confirmed that the route was difficult but doable and thoroughly enjoyable.

Soon we were on our way, and the stories narrated by Brian, Mike and Srinivasan were what made everyone in the bus sit up for a long time. Brian was an aged person and so was Srinivasan at 70 years, with lots of long rides under their belts. While Brian was a jovial person cracking jokes and narrating funny incidents, Srinivasan who sat next to me was very quiet and only on enquiring revealed the vast distance he has covered on the pedals. He was a regular long distance office commuter on bicycles and for him mountains, valleys and highways were alike. I felt like a toddler among these great men. The regular riders were all flocking to them. But Mike, he was the star. Mike was originally from Germany and he had been in India for a long time now as part of his job. On being prodded with questions, he revealed how he started off as a newbie in France and soon conquered many peaks of the Alps (on road bikes) before arriving in India. The list of places he conquered made us all roll our eyes. The pro was among us. It gave us immense pleasure and pride to have a guy like him with us. He never hesitated to share tips and crack jokes :D

Mike n Sallu

 Next day at seven in the morning, we were dropped off at the Tamilnadu border ,where the Mudumalai forest started. Breakfast was served and our bikes and gears were set out for us to get started. With great energy, we all set off through the wide open roads that cut through the green forests. Experimenting with gears and trying to compete with each other, our group consisting of Salahudeen(Sallu), Tinu and me were roaring through the forest.

People who have been to the Nilgiris, especially on motorcycles know how immersing the route is. I would not be able to narrate the experience of the ride, after all this time. But I still remember every moment like it happened yesterday. The initial energy turned to slow pace once the 35 kms long steep slope started after Gudalur. I made teams with many other riders who were slogging it out to get warmed up. The going was slow, but everyone was high in spirits.

Not many stopped for rest and we kept on going, climbing bends and slopes, one after the other. Sallu, being an expert rider was soon coasting ahead of us and we let him go. Sweat beads turned to sweat streams and jackets and woollen clothes were stuffed inside. The hot sun came up after a while, and we started feeling the real sting. Every ten minutes, someone would mention the remaining distance, with optimistic estimates.This went for what seemed like an infinity. Me and Tinu stopped a couple of times, to refill water or stockpile Perk from village shops. Two fully geared men(both bearded at the time), asking to empty the jar of Perks into their bags attracted a lot of amusement and people came to us shooting a lot of amusing questions.

Brian!

The climb continued for some more time until the lunch break, which was thankfully a very big relief, with a roadside waterfall and all :D After a heavy lunch, we were stuck by a moment of laziness and when the support van rolled by, the devil got into us and we got into it. After a five minute drive, we realized that the climb was over. Overcome with regret, we got off soon at the next stop point and then rode with vengeance.

Ooty at 5 PM welcomed us with the chill and dimming light. We had our stay arranged at the YWCA and traversing the Ooty town was a special feeling after all the puffing and panting in the hot sun. YWCA accommodations were perfect and cheap. We roamed around the town a bit to grab some local food and retired early to rest our sore bodies. The cold was biting and we never knew when sleep hit us. We had the jovial company of Siva and Om, who shared our room.

Early morning risers were few and they went off to conquer the Doddabetta while we rested ourselves more, having a relaxed breakfast. That was when I got a call my mother when she came to know that I had cycled to Ooty, thanks to my brother :) I had a some explaining to do for not informing, taking risks, etc etc. Soon, the pros were back, and we were all in super high spirits to start the return ride.

After fixing brakes and clicking some photos, we started off. The return was more relaxed as we knew what lie ahead. The ride was fun, with us often stopping for lots of photographs, some shopping and racing each other downhill. I for one was in vengeance mode, using my fully body weight for momentum to gain maximum speed downhill. I must have hurtled myself through some of those hair pin curves at nearly 50kmph screaming out emphatically for those in the way to make way, until I realized I was probably taking it too far and slowed down later.

Rest of the ride was very enjoyable and it was not until Gudalur that we had to climb up slopes again, albeit smaller ones. It was here that a couple of us took some bad falls and one broke his arm. Even I had a freak fall at this point, much to the amusement of the onlookers. I dusted myself up and slowly rode up the remaining trail, which was getting tough as now I was near my physical limits, having tested them a lot in a short span of time. Motivated by the water and chocolates offered by many passing by cars, I rode through to the end point, to be cheered by the good fellows who were there already. The sun was scorching. The body was broken. But the heart and mind were in Cloud Nine. It was such a special achievement :-)

Mike!!

 But Mike, the bloody genius had finished both the directions 6 hours ahead of anyone else. We could only sit jaw dropped on hearing that :D

A special mention required for the kids in each and every village on the way who greeted us, ran behind us and asked all sort of questions, sometimes in Tamil or some testing their knowledge of English.

I tried to answer as many of them as possible, and the fun helped me relax in the extenuating ride. Some questions were tough like "Why would you want to cycle all the way from Bangalore to Ooty? Can't you catch a bus or something?" or the regular "How much does this cycle cost? I heard it costs 40000. Why waste it on a bicycle?" or "Anna, are you famous? Do you appear in TV? Will I also come in TV?" Such innocence and energy. I marked in my mind to come back another time just to spend time with these kids :-) A random thumbs up from other gangs, travellers always raised our spirits whenever it ebbed. A gang of Bullet riders who gave us a riding salute when we were traversing some tough areas, filled up my motivation tanks for more than a day. Thanks Bros!!!

In those two days, in the sweet scent of Eucalyptus trees, the cold breeze, the chilled crystal clear springs, the countless packets of Perk, the warm beds, the hot asphalt, the paining joints and muscles, the pungent sweat, the euphoria and bliss on the faces of my comrades - I smelt the real Aroma of the Nilgiris. It was a life changing experience I would probably remember forever. A 160kms cycle ride with full support for two days - INR 4000. A bunch load of experiences, lessons and friends gained in two days - Priceless.

Adios Amigos :-)