kencool

TOURING ON SUPERBIKES. PART III

2008-09-16T11:13:00.004+05:30

Hello bikers of the world. This is an attempt at getting all kinds of elements together. This is to get bikers together. Elise, alias Bluemoon was coming to India and I decided to make the most of this opportunity to get these elements rolling into one movement. Bluemoon is a debutant biker, with barely 6 hours of formal training under her belt. I have over 250 000 kilometers of bikingdom behind me. She comes from one of the most developed nations with some of the best roads on this planet. I belong to a country that is a fledgling economy with less than 0.6% participation in global economy. And I had decided to take her to the highest and youngest mountain range in the world, the Himalayas on a very unusual vehicle, a legendary Superbike, the Yamaha R1. As pillion!

Getting here...

The destination as you guys now know was Narkanda, at 2750 meters, the time, the peak of winter, departure, the 2^nd of January, 2007. What a way to begin the New Year.

I will not waste my time or yours in describing the route from Delhi to Narkanda. Most of you know it, a lot many of you have done it. So I will stick to the basics, and talk about the essentials of the ride.

The checklist prepared by Vivek has become my Biblical reference now. There have been two important additions. I had procured Bagster Sport saddlebags. You can check that out on the Bagster site. And I also had procured a SHARK Prisma helmet.

We loaded the bike with the Bagster and left around 7 in the morning. Lots of things to say here. Riding with a debutant biker is not easy. Even more so if you have not done much pillion-riding with that person. Despite being on a Superbike, you cannot do the usual 150-200 kmph speeds. You have to remember that there is a pillion behind. You have to be responsible for that person’s safety and comfort. On open stretches, 120-140 is more likely to be your speed remembering at the same time that going too fast can cramp up your pillion which might turn out to be detrimental later in the day when she/he can get fatigued. More frequent and regular stops are essential to make headway in the long run. Again I stress on the importance of stretching your cervical, your shoulders and wrist every time you stop for anything.

Getting set...

A word on good helmets with anti-fog visors. Whatever I say about such a helmet will not suffice. I don’t know how many of you have experienced this kind of thing, but when we left Delhi, there was a mild fog. And it was pretty cold, somewhere in the 7°. And I was riding with my visor closed. And at no moment, I repeat, at NO MOMENT did the inside of my visor fog up. I am not saying that GP Ones and other Indian helmets are bad. They are fine as far as the safety features go. But talking about comfort, snugness of fit, antiglare and anti-fog properties, the imported helmets take the cake hands down. It was a startling revelation for me. Behind me Bluemoon was sitting and she was wearing a GP One that I had lent her. And I could not see her face at all with all the fog from her breathing.

Halfway between Delhi and Karnal, we stopped to unwind at a Punjabi Dhaba that proposed Gaajar ka halwa. Bluemoon had some, and she also had “Indian tea with milk and sugar”. So far so good, things were pretty smooth. Not too many problems. Both of us were adequately clothed. We continued till Kalka, stopping frequently to unwind, to stretch, to eat, to adjust, and simply to relax.

After Kalka, the ride is simply fantastic. For a biker. The climb begins, and so does the canyon scratching with the curves that are there at the disposal of the avid biker. At this time, I told Bluemoon to relax a bit from the crouched committed posture that she had been holding for the past 5 odd hours that can be quite taxing on the pillion. And I started conquering my demons.

For people who have followed my progress in biking, bending is not my strong point. I can’t bend a bike to save my life. A superbike was my first step to conquer this demon. I bend it easier than other bikes. Going to the hills and watching and trying to follow Vivek to Lansdowne were my second step. And now, I was climbing on Himachal hills, en route to Narkanda, with a pillion behind me, taking the curves and just loving it. Though I have a long long long way to go before going anywhere near guys like Nitin Gera, or Lovemax or Vivek. But important thing is I was having fun. Lots of it. And I bend left much better than to the right. My right leaning demons have eaten my brains out. Have to build it again some day. But I was not going to do it with a guest in the house, sitting pillion behind me with a 1000 feet drop on the sides!

Wearing on the sides!

We kept stopping frequently, taking pictures, stretching. Late in the afternoon, we crossed Shimla and it started getting frightfully cold after that. We were in a shadow area. I put on the windproof silk inner gloves to protect my fingers. This is absolutely essential for cold climes. I kept going since I wanted to reach Narkanda not too late. Before reaching Fagu, I started seeing some snow on the slopes, hills, to the sides of the road. It was pretty thrilling even though it was pretty old snow. I decided to slow down and stop to take pictures. I put my foot down to stop. And my foot slipped and I could not stop. Thankfully I had not completely stopped and was still rolling. I realized that I was on black ice.

That black ice was nearly invisible. It was a shiny thing on the road. I was rolling right on top of it. I held the throttle steady. I was going at 13kmph. And I did not change that and held it. This was my first time and I was pretty stiff and scared shitless. I approached a corner. All visions of bending the bike had disappeared from my repertoire. I just wanted to hold the line, the throttle and make it out of the corner without slipping over the edge. I held my breath too. And finally I made it. I continued rolling and gradually my confidence increased. But I was not trying any stunts. The fastest I did on the black ice was 17kmph. And for once, I was real glad that there was a pillion that added weight and made road gripping better. For about 10 odd kilometers around Kufri and Fagu, we faced this exciting black ice phenomenon. And every time I spotted it, I tried riding on parts of the road that did not have black ice, often in the middle and even a bit to the right of the road. Surprisingly, oncoming traffic did not mind and would move aside slowing down to let me pass without creating any fuss.

Negotiating black ice!

The last 20 kilometers to Narkanda we did in near total darkness, crossing two landslip areas. It was really cold, certainly several degrees below zero. We were adequately clothed and did not feel cold really. But my fingers on my left hand were beginning to give way. I was maintaining a steady speed with not much use of the clutch and the left hand fingers remaining idle for long periods of time had begun to freeze at the tips. By the time I reached hotel Hatu, HPTDC, my fingers were hurting really badly. We checked in and I ran to the room, got some HOT water and dipped my fingers in it.

DAY2. Lazy day, had late breakfast and went out. I was raring to ride. It was still very cold at nearly mid day, the temperatures were still below zero, showed –1° at one place, -2° at another. I took the road out of Narkanda, direction Hatu peak. On the way there was more black ice. I saw that the local PWD workers were putting dust on the black ice to make it less slippery.

Soon I came to the bifurcation to the narrow road leading up to Hatu. The climb is pretty steep. I have been there before with my Sienna. This time around I was on something else. The road is really beautiful, really narrow, and no black ice as it is perpetually exposed to the sun. At every U-turn I had to ask my pillion to get off since I was unable to negotiate the curve. I had to do it two attempts. The turning radius of my R1 is the same as that of my car!

Riding up to Hatu!

At slightly before the 2km mark, I could not go any further. It was all compressed ice. Riding on it would have been suicide for me. I parked and started walking on it. I fell and nearly broke my good-looking face. Bluemoon fell and broke her visor. Very cautiously we turned back digging in our heels at every step and avoiding the ice as much as possible. But even the heels would not dig in much.

At Hatu.

On the way back from Hatu. Could not make it all the way to Hatu peak with the R1. And I do not regret it!

Came back to the hotel and had a hot shower to warm my body.

Next day we went back to Shimla. I would not repeat our adventures on the way back. Leaving from Shimla to get back to Delhi was not an easy task either. When we left Shimla, early in the morning, my AirIntake Scoop temperature showed –1°. Next day the newspaper showed –2°. Anyway, it was terribly cold. And about three quarters of an hour later, I stopped, took off my gloves, my inner silk gloves, and held my frozen fingers against the warm clutch housing. There was liquour shop right there. They opened their shutter and I went in and warmed my fingers for a good 20 minutes on their heater. I was cold nowhere else, just my fingers.

Frozen waterfalls!

Important Notes:

The ride with a Superbike to more than 3000 meters on the indomitable Himalayas on black ice and other such things with a pillion is a unique experience. Do it sometime, you will know what I mean.
Till Shimla, on the way back, I was riding on a mix of 97 Octane, 91 Octane and Wynn Octane boosters, I will talk about this more in detail in the thread started by Bunny talking about “Superbikes for a Layman”. I had read links sent by Vivek, that higher the altitude, lesser the need for Octanes even for high compression ratio machines. I noticed as I climbed progressively beyond 1400-1500 meters (as indicated on the milestones), that the bike started behaving differently. The FI sensors were working certainly to effect these changes. And I could feel that there was a marked drop in power and a quantum jump in torque. Climbing and pulling on steep inclines was a piece of cake on 4^th5^th or even 6^th gear at ANY speed. There was no knocking. Whereas in the plains, when I was on 91 octane petrol only, on the way back, I increased the dose of my Octane booster to avoid the pinging.

In all, a great ride. Fantastic experience of doing such a ride with a pillion. Its not easy. It’s a challenge of sorts. Of patience, endurance and responsibility. Ride on.

Text: Krishnendu Kes aka KEN.

Pix: Krishnendu Kes and Elise Levain aka Bluemoon.

The author at a railroad crossing!

INTRODUCTION TO SUPERBIKES.

2008-08-26T10:50:00.014+05:30

Introduction: This article is a feeble attempt at describing a man's initiation into Superbikes in a country where Superbikes are a rarity, the pleasures and dangers involved in such a venture. The author in no way an expert in the domain of Superbikes and such sports.

Initiation!

He asked me how do you feel. I have been wondering about that myself, for some time. How do I feel? I have seen, discussed, touched, felt, talked and dreamt about, read up on big bikes, learnt what are Superbikes. But when I heard over the phone that my bike had arrived and was ready to roll, I was excited as hell. Finally it was happening. After twenty years of dreaming through foreign magazines, trips abroad, searching through sites and blogs, the bird was finally going to be in my hand.

I was at the workshop. I had taken photographs of the bird while being assembled, the fairing, the electricals. And while this was happening, I was the one who engaged the first self-start. The odometer showed 000000kms. I was thrilled beyond words. The adrenaline kept flowing through me all night and I could barely sleep. The next day I was supposed to ride out sitting on her. How could I possibly sleep!

PDI at the workshop.

I had the gleaming blue-backlight image floating in my brain all through the night. Next day late afternoon I was back there. The last touches of polish were being wiped off. The PDI was being terminated. It took some time. But time flew. It was already evening. A few drops of rain blessed the occasion. I went astride on her, turned the ignition key. The Tachometer did the customary swing check and the console lit up. I looked at all the figures clearly appearing bold from blue backlit screens. The green neutral light was on. I pressed on the self-start and heard the engine come to life. If ever machines made music, this was it for bikers! The Yamaha YZF R1 was on.

I depressed the clutch and engaged 1st gear. I heard the loud Thud of the gear. As I released the clutch slowly, I gently eased the bike on to the road.

I remember my 1st impressions of the RD350, still very clear in my memory from 20 years ago. Hence I went very easy on the throttle. Really very easy. Changing gears was a breeze. I have not felt anything change gears as easily as this. No bike ever. And I have ridden almost each and every bike that has ever come out in this country with the exception of Zundapp. The closest that came to this kind of shift was the Hyosung Comet. But they cannot really be compared.

He had asked me how do you feel. I was wondering about that as I rolled down the streets at an easy 4th gear at 4000 Rpm, touching some 80kms an hour. And I still had 2 gears left and I was 8500 Rpm away from the redline! What can I say of what I feel! The feeling is indescribable. There are no words to describe this feeling. It is unlike anything I have ever felt before. This is a bike. And I have ridden bikes before. Nearly 300000kms. They all fall by the wayside. Well, not entirely, but this thing is different.

Bikes are bikes. There are two wheels and a motor in between and you twist the throttle and with the some balance you go ahead. But then there are bikes and then there are Bikes. This thing, the R1, felt like nothing I have felt before. Of course it has two wheels, one of them is shod with 190 tyres at the rear. The broadest Indian tyre that is manufactured is 100! Only recently are we having 120 tyres. Let us not even go into comparisons.

The ride quality is divine once you start getting the hang of it. How do you get a hang of it? Well for starters, you begin to realize on bends and street corners and road curves what counter-steering is all about. Now, if you are a complete layman, and have no idea of what counter-steering is all about, though you just have to look at the innumerable articles floating on the web, it is a technique in which you push at the left clip-on to the outside to take a bend to the left and push on the right clip-on out to take a bend to the right. It may sound strange but that is how it works. What is even stranger is that even on smaller lighter bikes or high handlebars we always countersteer to turn the bike while riding but we are unaware of it. But on a Superbike, it is flagrant. Of course you don’t feel counter-steering at a speed of 10. One has to go beyond 30 to really feel and execute it.

Secondly, which should have really been the first point, the throttle response; I had initially major apprehensions about how the bike might shoot forward if I am not careful with the throttle. Hence, as I rolled out of the factory, I was ultra careful with my right wrist. And rightfully so. An upgrade in power from 27Bhp to 189Bhp is a quantum leap. If you are not careful and very mature with your right wrist, it might prove fatal. It is better to take precautions than regret.

Once on the road, going through some stops and starts at the numerous traffic lights, one gets a hang of the throttle, how far you can wring it. Not much really. And as I was extra-careful, I did not turn it around hard and my front wheel did not come up, nor did I bang into the back of some other car on the road which costs half the price of my bike. Not as yet. And I hope not ever. If you can avoid it, unless you are a raving lunatic in which case everything goes, do not ever “wring” the throttle in traffic.

And as you go along, your senses get sharper, your reflexes get honed, your mind gets more focused. It teaches you total concentration. The whole perception of riding a bike changes as one goes along. Standing at a red light you hear the GZZZRRRZZZZRRZZZZRRZZZ sound under your belly that can only come from a multi-cylinder. You look at your bike, look at the console, listen to the sound coming from down below. You lose yourself in your bike even while standing at the red light and become totally oblivious of your surroundings. And then suddenly when you awake, you realize that the world is staring at you and your machine and there is a sheepish look about you and you try to appear nonchalant as if nothing was amiss. Whereas riding a Superbike in India, you know that there is a lot amiss. I have made a rough calculation; there is one Superbike sold in India to every 80,000 smaller bikes.

Gorgeous machines!

As I rode out of the workshop, in the congested Naraina industrial area, you just about start getting a hang of the huge monster that you are sitting on. And as I said, I was extremely careful of every move of my right wrist, and my left palms for the clutch release. Then finally I came on to the Ring Road with some 300 odd meters of a straight in front of me. I decided to turn my right wrist a wee bit more. I heard the ZZZZUUUUN of the tremendously fast accelerating machine between my legs. 1st gear, 2nd and I was already fast approaching the traffic bottleneck up ahead. I squeezed on the brakes. No feedback from the brakes. I squeezed harder and quickly downshifted to have engine braking. And somehow managed to slow down the near-runaway beast! These were brand new brakes. Now this is important. If you are taking out a brand new spanking Superbike with 000000 on the odometer, chances are that initially your brakes will be working to about 30% efficiency if you are lucky. All the more reason to be super careful of the throttle when you roll out. You have to break into your brakes too which happens pretty quickly by regularly pressing on both breaks alternately and simultaneously on low speeds and by the time you have traversed some fifty to seventy kilometers, your brakes begin to show their six pistons’ worth on the R1. But, if you do not do your breaking-in on your brakes, they would not be ready even after a hundred and fifty. Also remember, even when you get used to your big bike, these bikes, despite having phenomenal braking, do not stop easy. It is much tougher to stop a Superbike at 100 than a Karizma at 120+.

You have a brand new Superbike waiting in your garage, you will find umpteen excuses to take her out for the breaking in period. Or otherwise for that matter. As long as it was not raining, I used to take her out. Just to look at it. Touch it. Feel it. Sit on it. Turn the key and look at the console. Just for the pleasure of it.

Once I took her out to get mangoes in a backpack. Now that is not something that one does everyday. But I did it and still do it.

Anyway, I was riding merrily enjoying my ride, the early days just over, and I was beginning to feel and savour the power within. The tyres were still brand new. I could feel even a matchstick on the road as I rode on it! I approached a red light and I slowed down. As I nearly stopped, the light turned green. At that moment, I opened the throttle just a tiny bit. The Tacho needle shot up and my rear wheel started spinning nineteen to the dozen. I did not know what hit the bike. Why was she behaving like that? It was a tiny wet patch on the road, barely a metre wide and I was right on top of it. This was my first experience like this. These were new tyres, the initial Sportmax and they were cold. New tyres need breaking in too. Most of them do. Though my Pirelli diabolo Corsa gave the impression of falling in line right from the word go. But my initial Sportmax seemed and felt harder and did fishtail quite a bit on corners while shifting, and on hard acceleration even starting from stand still. The only time I felt good with those tyres was when I had a pillion sitting behind. Till the end of its days, I never felt too comfortable on those tyres that lasted me 7000kms.

There is more to tyres on Superbikes than just breaking in. We Indians are used to our usual Zappers and other such tyres on our Indian bikes. They have deep treads in them and the bikes are not too powerful. They “seem” to grip better and they skid less when we brake hard. These are two aspects that you have to keep in mind. I learnt it as I went along. Even the smallest patch of water on the road, these tyres just don’t grip. In slower speeds, with the mildest twitch of the throttle, your rear wheel will spin hard and quick. I have also noticed that even several meters after a wet patch on the road, if I accelerate in the usual fashion, even a tyre as soft as the Pirelli Corsa slips off gaily into a high spin as the tyres were still wet. You can never be over careful. For me, this all was part of learning. To move from normal Indian bikes to Superbikes, you have also to check, know and feel your tyres.

Urvashi Sibal and The One!

Okay, what comes next? Wheelies! Is this really a topic? I am not sure but hey, I am not a one-wheel guy! It seems that wherever you look at a guy with a Superbike, he pops a wheelie at random and at will. Well I am not that kind of a person. I cannot “pop” a wheelie to save my life. People also say that while riding a Superbike, the front wheel can come up easily. Probably. But it does not happen to me everyday. At least not initially with all the precautions that I took. But as I started getting the hang of this kind of machine, I started to understand the power better, I realized that power wheelies can happen regularly every time you shift up with the throttle open wide enough and not enough weight on the clips to keep the front down. Of course it is easier with a pillion sitting. That said, it is really up to you if want to pull wheelies or not. I have seen loads of guys do it and it is no big deal I am told. I think it requires amazing amount of confidence and control of not only the engine and clutch release, but also a good sense of balance and equilibrium.

One of the many practical survival things in India that one has to keep in mind is the degree of difficulty in U-turns. One can never over-emphasize the importance of this. Taking a U-turn, riding a Superbike takes practice and you can still come down, if you brake suddenly. The front wheel locks up, you put your foot down, but if your foot is a trifle late in going down, then all you can do is delay the inevitable. Or with practice, with a slight release of the clutch, you can stop from going down. But in that case, you might end up hitting the object/vehicle for which you had braked in the first place. I recommend doing such sharp maneuvers initially with the foot “floating” and with practice, you can start getting it up back on the pegs. Remember that the turning radius of a Superbike is not much better than a car. And a car has a reverse option! I remember one of the first times that I attempted a U-turn with a Superbike was with the Blackbird and while negotiating the turn, I ran out of tarmac!

Talking about going through traffic, it does not go through stand-still traffic as easily as the other Bajaj Pulsars and CBZs do. In fact stand still maneuverability is terrible in traffic. It is marginally better than a car since it is not as broad and big. Else, if there is bumper-to-bumper traffic, it is practically impossible to bend the clips left and right and wade through traffic to get ahead. It is best to wait behind a vehicle and if it is not chilly outside and you know that traffic is not going to move for a while, switch off your motor unless you really like the heat from the engine coming on to your legs.

Coming to the heat part; it is not easy to ride a Superbike in our climes with the heat generated from the engine while standing or moving slowly in traffic. It is easy to say that I can take the heat because I want to ride a Superbike. When you are in traffic and your temperature gauge shows 109° and can go up to an amazing 118° if you have a radiator protection and the fans are turning furiously, you will have sweat dripping from your trousers into your shoes and in half an hour you will feel as if you have walked through the swamps of Sunderbans, and you would start looking like wet marinated meat ready to be cooked. It is very difficult to physically tolerate and handle this heat from the engine in heavy slow moving traffic during midday in our country from end April till end September. Add to it the cumbersome and sweaty affair of protective gear.

When you are riding a Superbike in any country, one thing you dont have to worry about is the lights. Most high capacity bikes have lights coming on default with the ignition. And the lights are really strong. Especially on The One!

Eyes!

Now let me come to the part about riding with a pillion. My most important piece of advice, do not ride with a pillion for the first 500kms, for your bike’s sake, for the pillion’s sake, and for your own sake. Once you start getting used to your bike, you can try out a pillion.

The choice of pillion is left to you. I personally prefer a pillion who is not a nervous back seat driver and who is less than 80% my body weight. Though I have ridden with Gasoline Junkie behind me who weighs a quintal, which is nearly 60% more than my body weight. But in this special case, it was not too tough because thankfully Gaso is a very “cooperative” pillion. A cooperative pillion is one who blends in with you and the bike. Remember, each and every impression gets multiplied three fold with a pillion sitting behind. The COG gets higher and thus it is far more difficult to handle U-turns. It takes even longer to stop. And at every red light, you will wheelie your bike. And there will be two heavily marinated humans sitting on the bike!
Photo: Mani Babbar aka Lovemax.

I have tried to cover as many aspects as I could remember. Please put in your comments. There are probably lots of elements that I have missed out. And ride carefully with proper riding gear. It is better to be hot and sweaty rather than call insurance for your mediclaim bills. Enjoy your ride, do not overdo it. And remember, you as a biker, deserve a ride like this. As I said before, this is maybe a bike, with two wheels and a motor in between with a gear and throttle to propel it forward. But then this is much more than just a bike. A Superbike is a Superbike. Nothing quite like it!
Photo: Sandeep Gajjar.
Text: Krishnendu Kes, aka KEN.
Photos: Krishnendu Kes, aka KEN. (Unless otherwise mentionned.)
Thanks to Urvashi Sibal for the photoshoot.

TOURING ON SUPERBIKES (Part II)

2007-06-07T13:04:00.000+05:30

INTRODUCTION.

Friends, Biking and Family.

Friends biking and family seems odd as a title of an introduction to a trip log. But that is what it was. I was musing about a Superbike tour (the desire is insatiable). I found a partner in a friend, one who is ever ready for a ride even at midnight (often at midnight for that matter!). Vivek is my eternal answer to such a venture. And incidentally the time coincided with a family reunion happening in the Himalayas. I just had to discuss with Vivek for the choice of a suitable destination that would take me closer to the place of the family reunion in Uttaranchal. We wanted good empty hilly roads, good for a grippy traction, essential when you are riding a superbike with near slicks; and hilly roads, we wanted to lean them, biking is all about cornering. To do 250+ speeds on straight lines is not a problem living in New Delhi. There are enough empty roads with divine texture. So we decided to take off to Uttaranchal, destination Lansdowne.

THE QUEST IS ON…

There is no further need to introduce the riders. The bikes are the same. Better broken-in with the odo readings ticking on.

Vivek and I hit off famously. We had roared off in our first ride to Mt Abu and the engines had not had time to cool down that we had decided to do it again, ride off somewhere else, astride our respective superbikes, the Ninja-10R and the R1. Living in New Delhi, there is no dearth of destinations. Last time we had made off to Mt Abu, there were some great straights and some twisties on the last stretch of 22 kilometers climb to the hill station.

My family was having a reunion in Uttaranchal, somewhere in Garhwal, at Pauri, Khirsu and Lansdowne. Vivek and I had been thinking of a destination to bend the bikes. And I suggested Lansdowne or Pauri, both being on the same route.

22nd December, 2006.

Once having traveled together, we needed no preparation. The checklist was the same. The temperatures were lower. This time I had to pick him up. We were to take the North-East exit out of Delhi through Ghaziabad. We were leaving town from his side. I reached his place at 0640 hours, almost half an hour later than the designated hour. Yes I was late. He gave me a light breakfast of cereals and we were on our way.

I was wearing thermal inners, upper and lowers, a full sleeve tee, a pullover and the GIR protective gear. I also had on the protective gloves. Vivek had lent me a balaclava. I was not cold when we started.

I followed Vivek to get out of Delhi. And soon enough, within 15 minutes of getting out of Delhi, we rode straight into a fog thick enough to stop us almost from moving forward. I tried following Vivek. He was barely 25 meters ahead of me, and I could not even see his tail light LEDs! I was riding at less than 27km/h. Vivek had said the roads were good and I had dreamed of triple digit speeds and here I was trying to wade my way through kilometers of swirling mist, heavy enough to weigh down on our progress. My breathing had misted up the visor from inside, and the fog had done the rest from the outside of the visor. Visibility was an absolute zero. One needs anti-fog visors to see in such conditions. One does not get them in India. Not even an anti-fog spray.

I lifted the visor to see better. That was a big mistake. I did see better, but all the dirt started getting in the eyes. And in such weather, once the visor is up, I could not get it closed again as it was dripping wet, fogged, dirty from the ambient floating dust sticking to it forming a grime. We stopped after an hour to clean up, clear the visors, lose some weight, take stock of the situation and continue. Vivek had a hot tea to warm up.

Just before Meerut, we were diverted to the side fields and vacant lands since the main highway was closed due to the Meerut Marathon. It is a good thing that this country is waking up ever so slowly to sporting activities. And it is an entirely different thing when the main and only highway is closed down due to the Meerut Marathon and the whole traffic is diverted through the non-existent roads through the fields of Uttar Pradesh.

This diversion was a typically broken pathway reminiscent of Uttar Pradeshi corruption full of potholes, lots of stones, almost no tarmac, and the entire highway traffic including the local bullock carts, tractors, going both ways on a path that barely allowed two Maruti Omnis to go side by side. And of course, everybody was in a tearing hurry. And in the midst of all that, there was also a railroad crossing. Talk of being on Superbikes and looking for fun. That was an hour of riding. At speeds that I would rather not mention. But then all of that adds up to your experience. This is not the kind of fun that you will get riding on track. But…

Our bikes, helmets and gear were wet from the fog, and now we were covered with the dust from the dirt track that we rode on. We were a pretty sight when we stopped at a dhaba to look at ourselves. I washed my visor. That is the only thing that I could wash then. And we continued.

Tea break, visor cleaning break, in short a long pit stop!

It was almost 10 in the morning, the fog was lifting, visibility was more to our liking, the roads wonderful, textured, gripping and we started opening the machine up. These are single country roads. You cannot ride on them at 200+ speeds. But the roads are of very good quality, chips projected, gripping, and fast. I did manage to touch 200 once. There was negligible traffic, not too many animals. That is one advantage of cold weather where temperatures are closer to 0°.

I loved this ride. Green fields, harvested sugarcanes, nippy weather, sunny side up, curvy roads, approaching the hills, quite an experience going through all that, soaking it up. As we crossed several villages, I could smell the odour of sugarcane refineries wafting through. If you have traveled by Shatabdi or Rajdhani and if you have used the sugar packets that are served with the tea, and if you have observed the print on these small sachets of sugar, it says Daurala sugar mills. Daurala is right on this road. Next time you take sugar from one of these sachets while traveling in these trains, you can think of Vivek and me riding through to the hills in the Garhwal Himalayas.

Bend it through the pines...

The road started winding through green, forested areas as we approached the hills. Vivek was going crazy bending the Ninja at every corner. I was going crazy too, but I don’t bend it like Vivek. He is really good at it. And I was having a great time following him and see him bend her through the curves, and disappear on the road into the greenery. Both of us were having a great time. This is what we had come for. And then the climb started. And the bending continued, albeit a bit slower.

Riding in the Himalayas is always a pleasure. The roads here are nice, though not as broad as in Himachal. Sugarcane fields gave way to more mountainous vegetation. Pines and filaos were taking over the vegetation cover. Traffic was practically nonexistent. We stopped once in a while to enjoy the luxurious surroundings, and to take pictures. Once we switched off the bikes, all the sound that we could hear was a silent breeze whispering through the leaves.

Vivek and I decided to go till Lansdowne and stay put instead of going all the way till Pauri. He seemed to know the place well. He took me to the GMVN guesthouse where we checked in. He played around a bit with my R1 in the premises riding it in circles on the front porch.

We went out for lunch in town. And then we got back to the hotel and Vivek started doing what he does best. Drop off to sleep for a nice long siesta!

In the evening, the guesthouse, that surprisingly houses a central heating system, puts it on in the evening and both Vivek and I were leaning against the two radiators in the room to warm our bottoms. Unfortunately this heating lasts just one hour, which is just about enough to warm the rooms for a short while. It becomes pretty cold again during the night.

Lansdowne is a nice cantonment town. Not much of a town really. A few houses, a small market place, some army messes. Sleepy place and everything closes down by 7 in the evening. It was pretty cold too. It was close to freezing temperatures during the night. There is a place called Tip ‘n’ Top where apparently people go to see sunsets. Vivek wanted to take me there but his siesta went well past sunset. And by the time he woke up, it was time for dinner. At GMVN guesthouses, dinner has to be ordered in advance. Else you might be caught high and dry and hungry for the night. We had dinner and walked to town in the evening under the stars. I was looking for a Pepsi. Couldn’t find it. Found some Gajar ka Halwa and Gulab Jamun instead.

We kept walking after that and Vivek kept me entertained with stories of his exploits in various fields. And then we retired for the night.

Next morning we were going separate ways. Vivek was going back home and I was going further up solo, direction Pauri. We parted around 9 in the morning after a light breakfast at the guesthouse. At Lansdowne there are several churches. And one of them houses a library with books describing the Indo-China war. I kept going up and found my way to Pauri.

The Church overlooking the R1!

The road was narrow, light climb, good and well laid out with nice tarmac, winding through the forested hills through which I could glimpse the entire snow capped Garhwal range. Soon I joined the road that came from Kotdwar and went towards Pauri. I stopped at a gas station. Filled gas. Filled STP octane booster. Chatted a while with the gas station guy. The sun was beating down. It was not that cold as it was at Lansdowne during the night.

Lansdowne -- Pauri.

Roads in Paradise!

It was a nice easy ride till Pauri. 90 odd kilometers. Once at Pauri, I found the GMVN guesthouse and checked in. I took the only room with TV and parked my bike outside and went to look for food. News had spread that a big Hayabusa had landed in Pauri. When I came back from lunch, I saw a crowd hanging around the bike. And then the question-answer session began, almost like a press con. Though the guesthouse is pretty isolated from the rest of the town, but that did not deter the youngsters on their RX100s coming and checking out the bike, calling me from my room at odd times and hours to talk and have a look at the R1.

I waited in Pauri for two days for my family and cousins to arrive. They were coming from Haridwar in a bus. Finally they were there. And we were headed towards Khirsu. It was Christmas!

Views from Khirsu.

Khirsu is a small village, back of beyond, the ride is simply beautiful. Small, narrow roads, wet and cold at times. And finally when we approach Khirsu, to the GMVN guesthouse, the last kilometer was through roads that the R1 has never been on. There was no road. It was path meant for ponies normally on trekking routes. Stones embedded in the ground to give grip to the pony’s feet. I rode on the R1 till the guesthouse on such roads. I was riding at barely 10kmph and was getting thrown off the saddle.

I parked her and started taking pictures. It was pretty cold in Khirsu. At 1 in the afternoon, there was still ground frost in the shaded areas. I picked up the frost from the ground and showed it to people. Bengalis being cold-fearing people brought out their heavy jackets and extra woolens when they saw the ground frost.

A little after I parked, someone showed me a nail in my rear tyre. I let it be and told myself to wait till the moment of departure which was in two days.

The stay in Khirsu was nice. There is a nice park where one can go and play Frisbee. The village is really small. Thankfully there is no Plaza Mall. And thankfully there is a GSM network. But no Reliance or Tata. At night we bought wood and did a bonfire to warm ourselves. It was really cold and there was no heating in the hotel.

The Family: Identify and start counting...

THE FAMILY BIT. Family reunions are a funny thing. At least in my opinion. Let us put it this way. There have been no family reunions EVER since I was born. It was probably pure chance that once in a while the cousins of my generation got together while we were still minors and once in a long while when we attained adulthood.

What happens when we attain adulthood? In India we get married. And then we have kids. And we get caught up in the daily rigmarole of waking up, feeding the kid, sending them/it to school, going to work. And then in fast forward adulthood starts disappearing and we start looking, feeling and acting middle-age. And in our nuclear, separated existences, we barely stop to think of going and meeting up someone. That has been taken care of by television.

In the midst of all that, Abhilasha, the wife of my cousin used to take an initiative once in a while to get us together. In one such initiative, we managed to get a sizable part of the family together, four cousins from India and their better halves and their progeny, and their progenitors. In all, we were fifteen pax. We missed Raju. But then California is a trifle far flung from Khirsu.

Identify the 3pax missing in this circle... hint: they are probably in the non-functioning loo!

A closer look into the circle...

There were fifteen of us sitting around a bonfire in front of the Garhwal snowcaps in biting – 5° temperatures, occasionally sipping whisky, at 8 in the evening, while some of the elder generation sipped Brandy as it is deemed a “medicine”. Of course they liked to have this medicine mixed with Coca cola but then that is another story for another day.

Tomu, in the biting cold, soaking up the fire and something from a bottle, intermittently!!

Lawyer, HR, progeny and R1. Warning! Do not even try this mix!!

THE END: Two days later, I was getting ready to leave Khirsu. I went to the bike to take the nail out. It was a long one. I pulled it out with a key and put water on the hole. A bubble or two came out. And then it stopped. The hole seemed to fill up on its own like the first time it happened in Delhi. I love soft compound tyres like this. I took the way back to Delhi. Nothing much to write home about. At Meerut, I took the Delhi bypass. Else one can lose a lot of time going through the city which can be worse than Chandni Chowk. Enjoy the ride. Superbikes can go everywhere. They are not as fragile as they are made out to be.

And about family reunions, it is becoming fashionable now. Living separated by thousands of kilometers. And traversing all that to meet up at least once a year. For fun, for knowing the deadly mix of characters in Macro; please do come and join in. And oh yes, dont forget a good scotch or preferably a vintage wine!

Text and photos: KRISHNENDU KES

TOURING ON SUPERBIKES IN INDIA!

2007-05-09T22:19:00.000+05:30

INTRODUCTION.

Bikeism is a new age coinage. And I seem to be not too far from it. I have not had a craze for high power between my legs. But I did not mind looking at the powerful bikes in the few magazines that my father got from his technical library and some others that I got to see from my biker friends when I was small. But I rarely got to see one in real life on the streets of India. In all, I would have probably seen a dozen bikes in this country where bigger capacity bikes is still a restricted item and rightly so. I had done some amount of touring in Rajasthan, some in Himachal and little bit as a kid sitting pillion with my father. But nothing compared to some of the extreme touring done by some people I know today. Then I went abroad and I got to see BIG bikes. I fell flat on my face as I saw those monsters roaming the streets freely like caged circus lions and other wild beasts let lose. And I took for granted that in these countries it is possible. And one can never own such bikes in India.

I let it go at that and I let go of a dream that I could have nurtured. Almost a decade later, with huge advances in IT, and the Internet crossing the billion users mark, I joined an online biker’s club, xBhp.com, with lots of offline activities. Soon I started joining in the offline activities and I started dreaming once again. And it wasn’t long before I started my search, this time in earnest for a superbike. We will not go into the details of definitions of what exactly is a superbike.

At the same time I was getting out of a terrible crisis in my personal life and Bikeism and a certain Ritu guided me through the dark period to get me grooving yet again. And I moved up in bike engine capacity. I went gradually into superbikingdom through stages. But that is another story that I will talk about some other time.

Once I had acquired my now-prized possession of a brand new Yamaha YZF R1, 2006 and had well and properly broken into it, I had to take it out longer than just the Greater Noida Expressway or a quick ride to the Aravalli Resorts on NH8 which is what most bikers with “Big” bikes do once a month. I knew Vivek, also from the same club. He has a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10R. He is also an avid tourer. I got hold of him and we decided to hit the road on our respective bikes some time in November. That is how this tour took shape.

---------------------------

The Decision... and it begins.

Touring on superbikes? You are crazy. No one does it here. You buy a superbike, put it in your bedroom, look at it, polish it, look at it some more, call people to look at it and go out in your car. And then sell it off at the end of the year to buy the newer model and put it again in your bedroom.

I like to tour. And I like touring on bikes. And I wanted to tour on my newest acquisition, my R1, which had just come out of breaking-in period. I told Vivek, lets go to Rajasthan. We could not and had not decided till the penultimate day where we were going. We met, we talked, we discussed, but we were undecided on our destination. Did we want to do fast straight lines through the desert, or did we want to do twists and some attempt at canyon scratching. It was either Jaisalmer with fast straights or Mt. Abu with lots more to biking than just straight lines. Finally we decided on Mt. Abu a day before our departure.

And soon, after much pestering Vivek at his work place with innumerable phone calls, I got a check list from him which looked something like this:

1. Camera
2. Thermal inner
3. General medicines
4. Octane boosters
5. Balaclava
6. Shaving kit + mouthwash + comb + shampoo + Soap
7. Moisturizer
8. SPF 30
9. Face wash
10. Mobile phone and charger
11. Handkerchiefs
12. Change for one day
13. 100ml measurer
14. Spare key
15. Trouser/payjama
16. Puncture repair kit
16. Air pump
18. Spare bungee cord.
19. Small tube for Petrol xfer
20. Eye drops
21. Cash for petrol

This was a pretty comprehensive list and I added Eicher Maps, swimming trunks and swimming goggles to the list. While Vivek and I were on phone calls over two days, another female voice started calling us from the electronic media, CNN. She was doing a story on the GQ= Golden Quadrilateral, her sector being Delhi – Jaipur, she wanted to cover us in that stretch. It is really a global village we are living in. Vivek and I had barely managed to nail our destination and the media already had the whiff of it. Why not, I mused! As long as our plans don’t get disturbed. But then that is another story.

(For people who ride Sbks, interesting info regarding Octane Boosters, you will get SPF octane boosters in Khan Market)

I started packing my stuff and I was wondering how will all my stuff from the check-list get into one bag that I was planning to carry on my back. I managed to do it, pack everything in. It looked a bit bulky. It felt heavier still. And on my back, I looked more like a trekker in Ladakh than someone who was planning to do 700 kilometers on a 174 Bhp Supersports bike! I checked myself in the mirror and decided that this will have to do. What a way to get things going!

The Riders: Vivek

And yours truly:

(Photo credit: Sandeep Gajjar)

The Bikes.

24 Nov 2006.

Vivek was supposed to come to my house at 6 in the morning, have breakfast, and move on, meeting point with CNN on NH8, Airport Road, at the end of the runway, a place we lovingly call Jumbo Point since my JNU days since those days I used to go there with my girlfriend on my Blue Bullet sixteen years ago to see the Jumbos land and take off in awe while the ice-cream dripped all over our fingers. Now I was going there with another friend on a Ninja and me on an R1, both BLACK! Vivek was bang on time, as usual. He had a light breakfast and off we went.

The TV crew was already there in place. So were the POLICE! How can there be bikers and no Police! But these police were nice. They were in their best behaviour. So were we. Somehow we are in our best behaviour the moment there is a camera rolling somewhere! I even let the cops sit on the R1. And they even smiled! Yes the police can actually smile. I smiled back and they looked embarrassed.

After the takes of whatever they were shooting for our departure, we said that we would move off and wait for them at the uphill bend of Manesar. With that we left the CNN crew behind with their black Scorpio to pack up and Vivek and I started warming up our bikes on the flyovers in Gurgaon that have been opened to traffic. We were doing 150+ on those stretches, a sheer pleasure, with no traffic, the sun just about rising, the nippy morning air, and the five lanes in front, all to me. The tyres were cold, and I had to warm them too. So I started slaloming gently across the width of the five lanes at 150ks. Whoa! Have you done it? I strictly advise you to do it. If your tyres need breaking-in, go to the Gurgaon flyovers at 7 in the morning and slalom around the place at 150 km/h.

We started pretty early. At 0630 hours. We reached the bend of Manesar and parked to the side. We realized that the TV crew would not be there in a hurry. Vivek decided to lubricate my chain. It was quite early in the day, but I started getting worried when the black Scorpio did not show up for 10 minutes. I did not want to get too delayed. And finally they came limping up the slope, what a waste of a Scorpio. And then we were stopping every 15 kilometres, to shoot, to take sound bytes, to shoot us coming in, us riding off, us bending into a curve, and then retakes and re-retakes galore, coz a take is never good enough and a retake is just a repeat of the same mistakes! And before we knew it, it was past 10 in the morning and we had barely 150 kilometres. And a highway board announced Jaipur 107 kilometres. And we were a good 700 kilometres from our final destination! I wanted to leave Jaipur by noon at worst. But then the new age adage goes thus, Man proposes, Media disposes!

Waiting for the CNN crew!

The Reporter explaining finer points to Vivek the Rider!!

The whole team grabbing a byte!

Camel Vs Ninja!

Fuel to burn!

Amer Fort.

The Conquerors:

When the CNN IBN girl was finally through with us, it was nearly 1500 hours as we left Jaipur and we hit the GVK Expressway and we started unleashing our horses as we rode with the sun staring down our visors. But that was hardly a deterrent as we started flirting with the 200kms mark once in a while.

I saw a guy driving a Honda Accord really fast. I drew up alongside just to see how fast he was doing. My speedo showed 148 Km/h. I looked at the guy behind the wheel, crouched and focused. He glanced at me. I gave the hint of a smile and cocked my head to the road. I was acting flagrantly cocky. But then the horses between my legs give a license to be cocky at times to these often overtly cocky cage owners. I did not even need to downshift. A gentle twist of the throttle and I smoked that guy with effortless ease. It was so easy, I could have been sitting on that R1 eating a sandwich as I overtook that Accord.

Vivek was playing similar games with a Merc 220. The guys in the Merc were left gasping for breath and probably a decision to get a refund from their Merc dealer! This was the fastest average speed that I have done with an internal combustion engine, ANYWHERE! We did 92+ kilometres in 45 minutes flat. That is more than 120 km/h average speed.

That was one exhilarating ride. We probably managed to save a quarter of an hour while we played around on the Expressway with gearshifts, the RPM counter, braking by un-crouching and bringing up our bodies against the wind force at 150+ kms. There is a lot to be worked on, experimented, tried, smoothened out in bike riding. This is a continuous learning process.

And then coming into Ajmer, Vivek lost me. He went into the city. I took the bypass. We lost another critical hour as we were fast losing daylight. And if you have read my earlier articles, I simply hate riding at night in India for obvious reasons that I am not going to elaborate yet again. I looked in the RVM, I could not see Vivek anymore. I looked back, slowed down and finally stopped and started calling him. He did not pick up the phone. I decided to wait and not move at all and kept calling him.

When you are riding with someone, and you lose, first thing you do in our modern age, keep your phone at full charge at all times and check your mobile. Vivek called me after 40 minutes saying that he had crossed Ajmer and was waiting at the bifurcation to Pali. I asked him to wait. But on the whole we lost about an hour of precious daylight. Yes, that is precious to me. But I will stop harping on that now. I found Vivek waiting for me 26 kms down the road and we continued. I was coming to my second yellow light indication of going on to reserve. Another point to be noted that I refueled far fewer times than the Ninja. The R1 is a bit more fuel-efficient than the Ninja. And I had a tank bigger by a liter. And now we had no more the luxury of 97octane petrol satisfying the thirst of our machines. So we decided to refuel at Reliance mixed with Octane boosters. The strange mix of 97Octane petrol with Reliance (supposedly 90Octane) with boosters seemed to work really fine with the engines.

Romancing the roads between Béawar and Pali.

The sun had set. We had ridden together into the sunset, romancing the roads. The road from Beawar to Pali is really beautiful, well laid tarmac, broad enough for two trucks, that is our benchmark to define wide roads I suppose, twisting through the Aravallis, with not too much traffic, it was a pleasure going through this part. We were well into the darkness of the night by the time we crossed Pali. And the romance was over. And the difficult part had already begun.

It was past 2000hours and we were still 250 kms away from our destination with two thousand trucks to overtake and another three thousand coming our way. This was certainly not the best part of our journey. And the road from Pali to Sandérao was worn off in patches due to the inundations in September. Vivek said that he was blind and could not see much. He was just following me. Good, that way I would not lose him. I kept overtaking the trucks. And the trucks kept coming from front. And Vivek kept following me. It took us nearly 3 hours to do 220 kms. And finally we stopped at Abu Road to eat at a Dhaba, figuring out that F&B at the hotel we were headed would have closed.

The last 22 kms were the twisties of the climb to Mount Abu. We did it in total solitude, no traffic, no headlights to encounter, no overtaking, just sheer biking pleasure on hill roads in total darkness lit up only by the bright white lights of our machines. It was pretty cold, but the activity of bending the bikes non-stop kept us warm. We also realized towards the end of the ride that the palms and the Venus mound were aching from the twists. Changing gears often, more control on the throttle, moving the bike around brought into play a totally different set of muscles and this brought about a mild ache.

We reached Mount Abu and the temperature showed 7°C. And the trip meter showed 794 kilometres. Finally we entered the royal gates of [B]BIKANER PALACE[/B]. It was nearly midnight. A room was allotted to us. It felt good to find a nice cozy bed and I was out like a light.

Nov 25 2006

Breakfast in Royalty.

This was a day of doing nothing. Took the bikes out for short rides. I had to go out. I cannot resist riding if I see my bike sitting there right in front of my eyes. In the afternoon we walked to the Delwara Temples, the most intricately carved marble temples in human history. No other marble carving even comes close. And the oldest temple is nearly one millennium old!

In the morning we walked to downtown, lazed around near Nakki Lake. We came back to the Bikaner Palace. Ambled around in the vast campus. It is a Palace built by the Maharaja of Bikaner in the beginning of the 20th century as a summer palace where he used to come down either with the Royal family or with guests, Indian or foreign in cooler climes.

Bikaner Palace, Mt. Abu.

We sat in the huge gardens soaking up the sun and we discussed our biking exploits. It was a fantastic ride the previous day. I never thought that I would be doing nearly 800 kilometres in a single day on a superbike someday. We talked about performance, about petrol quality, about bending and curves details of which are posted in the Notes section below.

We were still pretty tired and Vivek slept a lot! Both during the day and the night.

Royal Retreat!

Nov 26 2006

We took our time to leave. There was no hurry. We left after 10 in the morning. Initially the ride was downhill from Abu to Abu Road. I tried applying the techniques that Vivek had discussed with me. I realized that while coming down the curves, I was far less confident than the previous night. At night, I could not see the state of the road. Now during the day, I could see that the road was pretty slick. And each time I downshifted, my rear wheel fishtailed. But I tried to apply the basics. All the way down and I started growing ever so slowly in confidence even though I lagged behind Vivek a lot.

There was some confusion about the route that we wanted to take. And we got mixed reactions from everyone, right from the Palace, to the people at the Petrol bunk to the other riders and truck drivers. I knew the way back to Sandérao – Ranakpur – Gogunda, and this route is pretty decent. We were told to take another road via Balaji. And yet others told us to take the NH76 via Pindwara. Finally we decided to take this one and it turned out to be pretty decent after the initial patch where the road was pretty broken, uneven and a blocked up level crossing. But then the road smoothened out and we rode through the green jungle of the Aravallis, climbing, turning, curving, dipping, the works. And finally we came to the part where they are making a 2X2 highway. In those parts, with numerous diversions, we were being made to do long stretches of dirt riding with supposedly “delicate” Supersport Superbikes. Let me remind skeptics at this moment that I am proud to have done these roads and advice guys who are scared to take their superbikes out of their bed-rooms, there is absolutely no problem.

Mount Abu - Udaipur

Bend it like Vivek!

Jungles of the Aravallis.

Dirt riding them superbikes!

We stopped a few times to take pictures, to drink water, to take a leak, and we arrived in Udaipur around 1400 hours after nearly 180 kms of riding. We had lunch and promptly took a nap. Vivek started sleeping profoundly yet again. Wow! This guy can sure sleep.

We went out to take a round of the Fatehsagar Lake at sunset. It’s a nice ride. Lots of young crowd, on foot, on bikes, in cars, on camels, guys, girls, come to hang out here. Curious eyes followed us. One of them even asked me if we were riding “original bikes”. I said, “No, they were duplicates!” I had a good mind of telling him they were photocopies!

Room with a view

Fatehsagar lake.

Nov 27 2006

We wanted to leave early to reach early to avoid the Gurgaon traffic. That did not happen. By the time we left the hotel, it was past 0930 hours. We stopped to take gas. And then we hit the four-lane highway. And we were cruising at speeds of 150km/h. There was practically no traffic. I did something to avoid strain. I did not crouch. I nearly lay down on the tank. And I started resting my elbows on my knees! This felt pretty neat and comfortable as I cruised at 150. Of course the moment there were bends coming along I got back to the usual riding stance.

I had started applying Vivek’s inputs on bending the bike and I was getting progressively confident. In fact I am pretty happy on wide large bends doing them at over 120 km/h rather than the close hilly curves. Me being a miserable bender of the bike, I ended up taking some curves upwards of 140km/h. I was pretty pleased with myself.

The Return.

Pit Stop

Raring to BLAST!

Pit stop again

We hit the GVK Expressway once more. Stopped for a light lunch. And continued our way to Delhi. I crossed 200 several times on this day on every stretch (see Notes below). Finally at 1730 we hit Gurgaon, horrible time to be there. Vivek and I split there and went our respective ways.

I reached home, parked, climbed the stairs, and unpacked. And then I started planning my next trip. I called up Vivek. He had reached home safely.

It has not even been 48 hours and we are already planning our next trip!

NOTES:

Need better helmets than Gp1! These helmets don’t stay in place on speeds higher than 130Km/h. The ears stay pressed and I don’t like that. I like the helmets like HJC that I tried in which my ears pop free once the helmet settles down on the head.
We were doing regular stops, every hour or 100 kms: to drink, re-hydrate, take a pee, stretch, clean visors which gets totally covered with smashed bugs after an hour of riding! It is very important to stop while riding really fast crouched. One should relax the neck, stretch the back and the cervical.
Bending techniques: Vivek’s input: I am a miserable bender of the bike on curves. Vivek said, get into the curve with a speed that you feel is the slowest that you can do at the optimum gear. Do not change gears once you have hit the bend, or do not accelerate fast before the apex and before you see the road clear ahead of you, even if this means doing the curve at 20km/h with a superbike. Doing this often enough will help you gain in confidence. And you will start getting into the curve progressively faster with time, patience and practice.
We decided to refuel with Reliance as we thought that there were less chances of adulteration since they are company owned pumps. I used Speed once and I was definitely not happy. I was putting in 120 ml of Octane Boosters to about 16 liters of fuel. But at the last fill, when I reached Delhi, I could hear pinging when I was loading the engine.
Crossing 200 on relatively busy two-lane highways with no fencing, jaywalkers, animals straying on and even vehicles coming in from the gap in the median, it is a question of sheer luck. If you believe luck is on your side, go ahead and do it. I advice you to stay between the 140-150 mark unless you are absolutely sure of doing faster times. On three-lane highways, like the GVK Expressway between Jaipur and Ajmer, with clear visibility, more spaced traffic, proper fencing, no stray animals, I was doing 200+ often, Vivek was going berserk in ecstasy and it was clearly less risky on this particular stretch. But I don’t advice it still. On the way back from Jaipur, while I was doing 150+ at one stretch when suddenly a Maruti 800 came on to the road without even looking on to the oncoming traffic. I don’t know how I managed to swerve to the left and save those poor soul’s lives, else I would have cut them in half probably. Bottom line: ride fast enough leaving enough reaction time to adjust and save damage to life and property.

Special mention and a big thanks to Ninja Rider Vivek for is company, his endless stories about touring, his expert advice and his readiness to help and tour. Hope to tour with you again.

Thanks to CNN IBN reporter, Urvashi, for not making life too difficult for us.

Text and photos: Krishnendu KES, unless otherwise indicated.

Caress those curves... Rohtang Pass.

2006-06-09T14:40:00.000+05:30

A short account of a biker’s discovery into the world of solo travel…

I had not planned anything. I had not given it much thought. I was alone for sometime at home. I saw a window. The itch was there. The itch became an irresistible scratch. I took the opportunity and jumped through the window. The roads never end. Nature beckoned. I obliged.

The preparation; not much really: ordered the Turtle from Cramster. Darkie said the Colt would not come good on the Comet. The Turtle got delivered, tried it on the tank, did a short trial round, seemed to hold fine. But a short trial round in South Delhi is hardly a measure of feasibility when we are looking at 500+ kms a day of riding through roads that even the engineers at Hyosung would never have imagined that the riders would put their vehicles on. I did not know what was in store for me.

Destination: Vashist. This would serve as my base as I would move around. I got myself ready. Packed some clothes into the turtle, rain protection gear, all bike papers, duplicate key, camera equipment in my Lowepro backpack, phone, chargers, oil check, chain tension, tires, topped up tank to the brim, and I was ready to rock and roll! I checked Yahoo weather, thunderstorm all the way for the next four days! It brought me back horror memories of my previous trip with Nats to Kasauli when it rained non-stop for 4 hours all the way till Chandigarh!

Before hitting the bed, I sent a PM to Akshay on xBhp, who wanted to meet me at Ambala, asking him to send me an sms if he was still game.

This was on Saturday, 20th May, 2006. I was done packing at 2200 hours. The excitement was more than palpable. My first solo. I was ready to hit the bed to leave early. But I was more ready to hit the road then and there. Set my alarm at 0410 hours for the next morning. I lay down on my bed and tossed and turned for a good hour. Adrenaline rushing through me, I could not get to sleep. Sat up and went to watch the match between India and West Indies. Watched for some time. Went and hit the bed again. Still could not sleep. Went back to television. I last checked the time around 2 in the morning. Next thing was the alarm waking me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed on to get over with the morning rituals.

While I was having my breakfast of curd, chirwa and bananas mixed together, I was wondering about my fears and apprehensions of a long solo. What if I fall, what if I crash, what if machine gives way, what if , what if… I pushed them back, finished my breakfast, did the dishes, quick shower and carried my stuff down and loaded my bike. If the mind continues with the “what ifs” of life, we will not be able to step out of our mindless existences. There are people doing solo, some make it, others don’t. I will see what comes of me.

I put the Turtle on the tank, packed my undies and light stuff in the space under the pillion seat, put my sleeping bag wrapped in rain gear on the pillion seat attached with the bungee net, my camera backpack on my back, swung my leg high over the sleeping bag, turned the key, squeezed on the ignition and the V came to life. I put on the low beam, engaged gear and gently eased her out through the colony.

(Ready to roll...)

The first three hours went as follows, I copy from my trip log:

21052006; Time: 0510 hours.
Odo: 7933.5
Trip: 01.2
Vasant Kunj, New Delhi.

TIME LOCATION TRIP

0603Hours Delhi Border 57.9

0708 Hours Karnal By-pass 155

0715 Hours Toll bridge 164

0721 Hours First stop (9 minutes) 173.6

0826 Hours Stop at Milk Time 258.3

(Note: In the first three hours, I had covered 238 kms.)

Getting out of Delhi at that time of the morning was a breeze. Though I realized that cornering was going to be more difficult than what I do normally. This is because of the Turtle that I was using in its expanded form, pretty much loaded, perched pretty high on the tank, coming nearly to my neck, clearly grazing against the chin of my lid every time I tried to bend her. I realized this while I was negotiating the curves at the AIIMS grade-changer. I started adjusting my riding, since curves is what was waiting for me 300 kilometers down the line.

The sun was barely up and due to the rains the previous night, which had put doubts about my departure, had brought down the temperature considerably and I felt riding much easier with all my protection gear that makes you sweat like labourers in a brick kiln. While I drove out of Delhi, the temperature was around 24°, quite pleasant for May.

I realized that Vasant Kunj is 57 kilometers from the border and it took me nearly an hour to get there. Once I was out there I started to open the throttle. Traffic was normal, not too much, not too less, just normal. I was riding at a little under 8k revs, around 120 k/h mark. But I like to move through the rev range and not stick to one place for the engine’s sake. At times I would go to 140 k/h, and sometimes I would relax down to below 3-digit speeds. At higher speeds, with the Turtle sitting awkwardly high on the tank, the wind came and hit hard on the visor of my lid creating a loud turbulence around my head that remained for the rest of my high-speed ride. It was pretty annoying and I had a hard time getting used to it.

The ride was straight, relatively eventless, barring of course the occasional moron who would cross over on the dividing median in his broken, rusty, falling-to-pieces-held-together-by-shoe-laces-and-steel-grip scooter and cut across the road despite vehicles moving in 3-digit speeds, and a car driver doing a U-turn on the road as if this was the driveway in his garden and not the NH-1, the occasional dog that tried to cross the road and all the vehicles trying to avoid it and the dog wondering where the rest of the pack went.

One would wonder that this part of the ride would be monotonous. But I drove hard, remained focused and I wanted it to be over as quickly as possible; I was raring to hit the hills and hug those curves and some cooler climes.

When I took my first break, I checked my chain, oil level, tires, just in case, drank water, the temperature was rising, I was beginning to break into a sweat, took some pix, checked my mobile, no news from Akshay so far, it lasted me 9 minutes. And I was back in action.

(First break...)

Soon I was crossing Ambala and while riding, I shifted to neutral on the bridge, opened the left zip of my Turtle, took out my phone, no sms from Akshay still, I shifted back up and opened the throttle. But after Ambala, as some of you may know, the ride is different, less fast, more dangerous with the Haryana Roadways buses being the kings and bullies of the roads overtaking at times in three files, and the rest of the world are simply sent off to take a walk in the fields. And bikers, we end up eating dirt. When I drive/ride on this road, I usually stop at a place called Milk Time, a milk bar to the right of the highway just before Chandigarh. There is a trucker’s dhaba right next to it where I ordered Dal Makhani and Roti with lots of butter at 0830 in the morning. Having satisfied my hunger, I went to milk time and had a glass of milk. The break lasted me about an hour. And I was on my way. As I have said in one of my threads, I wanted to avoid Chandigarh at all costs, I did not want to find myself being followed and stopped by bribe-friendly corrupt Chandigarh cops asking me to explain why my bike did not have a sari guard or a mud guard or these modifications are not allowed whereas I was riding a stock bike. So I gave Chandigarh a pass and took the way to Nalagarh left from just before Kalka. The road turned out to be pretty manageable till Nalagarh, where, at an intersection, instead of following Ropar, I took Manali. From thereon, it was mostly dirt or potholes and very little tarmac. I stopped at a place where I found Extrapremium and topped my tank. And there I received a call from Akshay. I said that I had already crossed Ambala and well on my way ahead. And now that I had his number, I said that I would be telling him of my return to be able to meet on my way back. And the road turned out to be devilishly miserable. Someone has called it the NH-21A. It is supposed to be a National Highway. What a horrible road to be on with a bike that is not supposed to do off-roading. It is barely wide enough to accommodate a Maruti800 and you find yourself facing a charging truck coming straight to mow you down and you end up doing off-road with a street bike quite often. And at times there was no road, just dust, broken pieces of tarmac of what was part of the road, and that continued for 30-40 meters, and I was perched on my pegs during these stretches on 2nd, trying to negotiate the obstacles, keeping the bike straight, keeping myself balanced, the turtle in place and avoiding the vehicles coming at you, there were not too many thankfully. This is the place where I had to stop a couple of times just to get the Turtle back in place. And thus realized that a short ride in South Delhi is by no means a measure of how things are going to fare on some Indian roads where calling such a path a road is a gross misnomer. There is no road, just some dirt, dust, mud at places, pieces of rock, lots of them, and you need a 4-wheel traction with fly shift on an able SUV. This continued for over a painful half hour and I even started contemplating if I should turn back to change my route. I even stopped to ask a man on foot how much longer was this bumpy ride going to last. Just another kilometer or so. I thanked him skeptically and continued on with my jolts. This was beginning to become a saga. But in a kilometer or so the road actually got better. And I started feeling the wind on my body once more. Then the climb began, the first real climb, in the hills, moderate inclines, probably 6° or 7° gradients, on the NH-21A, direction Swarghat, still a pretty narrow road, but free of traffic, hence quick at the curves, I was beginning to enjoy myself again. The recent horror of the broken roads behind me simply faded off like some bad dream and I started to relish the ride. The first smells of the pines wafted to me. As I drove on, suddenly two enormous langurs jumped on to the road from my right about 25 meters ahead of me and broke into a chase with each other on the road as I followed them marginally slowing down realizing that they were very fast moving creatures on the road. It was scary seeing their sizes and I definitely did not want to overtake them. About 100 meters later they jumped off into the trees to the left and disappeared and I felt free to accelerate again. I reached Swarghat where I took right. This is the NH-21 coming from Kiratpur to Manali and beyond. Now I was on a real road, broad, accommodating, forgiving, fast, well laid out tarmac, smooth, all the adjectives that come to mind now after having gone through a torrid road earlier. I started stroking the turning road with carefree pleasure. My baby loved it too. I started tilting and swinging her around. The Comet really likes it. And in my canyon scratching endeavours I happened to grate the left peg and the outer sole of my boot just once. That quickly calmed me not to bend her as much though she was more than willing to bend both ways but I got cold feet.

TIME LOCATION TRIP

1200 Hours, break. Bilaspur 387.8 Kms

1310 hours, break. Sundarnagar --

1410 hours, break between Mandi and Aut --

1548 hours, break Raisan 569 kms.

Initially while driving in the mountains, the sun was far more unbearable than in the plains. And with all my protective gear, I was close to being a nice stew. But it did not matter, the ride was beautiful, the mountains welcoming and soon the temperature would drop.

I did not take any more long breaks. Each break above lasted between 8 and 12 minutes. I got off to drink water, stretch and take photographs. By the third break above, I was out of water. But I did not want to stop. It was only getting better. The ride along the gorge of the Beas between Pandoh till after Aut is one of the most beautiful with good roads and great landscape. You ride under jagged overhangs, and to the right is the fall of the Beas gorge, it is the kind of ride that gives butterflies in your stomach.

At Kullu, there was the Police. They were stopping each and every out-of-state vehicle and checking each and every document of the vehicle. A big policeman with a pleasant countenance belying his burliness stopped me on my Comet. Normally I attract the authorities in uniform like fish do flies. He asked me do you have all your papers. I smiled and answered, “All my papers are in perfect order.” “Sure?” “Sure.” I was emphatic, pleasant and easy.

Are you in a group?
No. I am alone.
Okay, go and have a nice trip.
Thanks.

And I was on my way!

At Manali, I was stopped to pay 100/- for a two-wheeler for a week’s stay in Manali (200 for cars).

At 1635 hours I arrived in Vashist. Trip: 587.0 kms. Odo: 8519.3 kms. Altitude: 2200mts.

I parked my bike and walked into CAFÉ HALFWAY, a café run by Pavel, a friend of mine since sixteen years. He was expecting me. We were glad to see each other. We were meeting after two years, the last time was in Leh. We sat down in his café and ordered for a drink.

21st May; evening at the Café Halfway: I met An, a Belgian woman traveling alone in India. Got talking to her. She is a biker in her country, driving a F650 BMW to work. Always good to meet a fellow biker. She was a TV reporter. So we talked some cinema, some memories came rushing back, the days of Fellini, Antonioni, Truffaut, Kurosawa; okay, I will stop here. Wont show off. Just saying that the mind started working the way it was used to for ten odd years as a student. So when I was suggested to go for a movie that evening, I jumped at the idea; watched The Last Hippie Standing.

22052006: Local rides. Went for a ride with Pavel to the neighboring Southern areas, the village of Jagatsukh, the thickly wooded pines of Sajla, the fair of Nagar, and from there, bad dirt tracks up to a small village called Rumsu. It was a very satisfying ride till Nagar; nice curves, through woods, no traffic, beautiful undulating green valleys to the right, lovely flowered rose gardens.

About a kilometer from Rumsu, I left my bike on the dirt track, as I was getting fatigued, the bike too, as well as the pillion what with the mono-shock throwing him all over the place.

We hiked the rest of the way to Rumsu village. Small village with a school with the children looking at us with curious eyes and giggling amongst themselves, an old small temple just next to two huge and obviously very very old pines dating back to over 700 years as we were told. We sat at a makeshift eatery, had a drink, relaxed for a while, before beginning our quest for quality petrol.

(Jagatsukh...)

(Sajla...)

We left Rumsu village, drove all the way to Kullu. Several Indianoil petrol pumps had boards saying Extrapremium. No one stocked it. Finally, I filled my tank with Speed. There is no better petrol available anywhere in the hills on NH-21. On my way out of Kullu, the same cop stopped me again to check my papers. I smiled at him and said, “We already did this exercise yesterday!” He smiled back and let us go.

We reached Manali, crossed it, and climbed up the back to an Italian restaurant Il Forno. It is run by an Italian lady for the past 20 years. There was a buffet laid out, rather expensive, but we indulged. Good Italian food.

I headed back to Vashist. 107Kms for the day.

In the evening I went to meet Amit, also an xBhp-ian. Talked to him about his exploits on a RD till Ladakh from Delhi.

Went back to Café Halfway, dinner, music, bed. The next day, we had decided to do a short trip to Solang Nala.

(Chilling at Café Halfway...)

23052006. Short trip to Solang Nala, 13 kms from Vashist. Ride along the Beas, then cross the Beas to the beginning of the ski slopes. Was here a couple of years ago with Nats in winter with the car and Maël.

My ride to Solang started to make me think about my Comet. She was having problems climbing at low revs with a pillion worth 60 kilos. On steep gradients, like 11° or thereabouts, and on short stretches especially, since in the hills one does not have long stretches, one does not really have the opportunity to cross the 4k or 5k revs as one has to slow down either for a curve or some oncoming traffic or broken roads or a herd of animals or ‘n’ reasons. And with her, I don’t have the power kicking in at that band. In fact she is quite sluggish and reluctant on 3rd at 3k or 4k with the throttle opened wide and a payload of 130 kilos. I began to have grave misgivings about my proposed trip to Rohtang pass.

(Crossing the Beas en route to Solang Nala...)

23052006. My misgivings notwithstanding, I undertook the last leg of my journey that I had come for; the climb to Rohtang Pass and I was back to riding solo.

Departure: 0540 hours. Trip: 728 kms.

There was surprisingly heavy traffic even at that early hour. And it was a very godly hour. Leaving Vashist, the northern snow covered fringes were topped with golden light from the rising sun. I rode towards it. A really awe-inspiring moment. And more was to come.

(The Golden Fringes...)

After 10 kms came the bifurcation of Solang to the left and the steep climb to Rohtang to the right. I took right. It was almost a non-stop climb. The first twenty kilometers had relatively tolerable roads. Then it started getting progressively broken, surely because of ice and snow, which had thawed out in the last few weeks. It also started becoming progressively colder. Wooded pine areas gave way to lush green meadows and then the meadows disappeared into the more arid rocky faces with the receding snowline. I rode on in paradise. The views were simply magnificent. Temperatures had dropped to zero. There were swirling winds at corners and tunnel effects at some narrow valleys. My fingers were frozen despite the biking gloves and my fingers ached while grabbing on the clutch and the brake. I was missing my silk inner gloves that I was loath to take and were languishing in some vague drawer of my wardrobe in Delhi. It became increasingly difficult to overtake. There were places where the roads were completely broken and I had to ride on my pegs with the bike going on stones larger than canon balls, eroded and rounded by grinding glaciers, and I made the most of these places to go ahead of the Qualises and trucks and other such ineluctable nuisances. At other places I would cross stretches where the snow was cut and cleared and what remained were high walls of snow on the sides of the road where there was not much sun and the verglas had barely melted and the rear 150 would aquaplane on slush or wet rocks at corners. Finally reached Rohtang Pass. It was worth every inch of that cold and jerky ride. A fulfilling sight after the grueling yet immensely satisfying ride. At 20 meters short of 4000 meters, surrounded by towering mountains, the sun falling on the vast expanses of snow all around, in the midst of indomitable glorious nature, all is well.

(The First walls of snow...)

Rohtang Pass: arrival 0725 hours. 3980 meters.

I parked to soak some sun, warm myself, and make a few notes. Two Gujarati couples came in a car, right next to me, got out and went and sat on my Comet. Just like that! As if that was their tricycle back home that they were trying in their backyard. The guy nearly toppled over with his girlfriend with my bike. I walked up and said, “Hey, do you mind? You know, this belongs to me.” They made a long face and reluctantly walked away casting unpleasant glances as if I had taken away their candy.

I walked around soaking the wonderful ambience of the snow covered mighty Himalayas. One thing was clear; I have never been to such a magnificent place in a motorcycle or any motorized vehicle. I walked around a bit, rode a bit, took some pix. I could not have enough of it.

But since all good things must come to an end, I reluctantly started the long and winding descent back to base at Vashist.

On my way back I started sorely missing the pack of biscuits that I had bought the previous evening for the express purpose of going to Rohtang and that I had unfortunately forgotten to take with me in the morning; another important oversight, and I had also forgotten the rolls of film in my hotel room. So I had to make do with the frames that remained in my camera.

I stopped to warm myself at 3150 meters (10336 feet), at a place called Marhi, with some bread-omelet while a couple of guys came and had a conversation with me which went something like this:

“Sir, where did you modify your Pulsar?”
I replied, “You see, I asked Bajaj that I needed more power. So they asked Kinetic who asked Hyosung in South Korea who worked out a deal and gave two engines mounted on a chassis and called it Comet. That is how I modified my bike.”

“Yes sir, I noticed that it has the same instrument cluster as the Pulsar.”
“You noticed absolutely right.”
“And the fat tires?”
“Oh that? That was part of the deal.”
“And how much was the whole package?”
“Oh not much, less than two lacs. If you have a Pulsar, ask Bajaj to do it for you!”

They had the gall to ask me to try it out at 3000 meters altitude. I am not too sure that you will be able to handle it here. They looked disappointed and walked away.

Vashist arrival: 1040 hours. Trip 836 kms.

(Return to Vashist...)

Exactly 5 hours and 108 kilometers later I was back at Café Halfway with Pavel, astonished to see me already back while he still had his toothbrush stuck in his mouth. The previous evening we had decided that I would do it solo. I sat down with him having my second breakfast while I explained him my matinal exploits.

I am scared of heights, terrified of sheer drops, ledges, precipices and overhangs, I move/ride as far away from them as possible even when I walk. On my way back from Rohtang Pass I would often be teetering towards the edge, leaning over a 1000 foot drop, with no protection on the sides of the road, I rode with my heart nearly popping out of my mouth. For me it has been an exploit, and I have made it back. Mission accomplished. I sent a thank you message to all who stood by me for this solo.

The bike, on the way to Rohtang, performed beautifully. The steep gradient was wonderfully negotiated by the twin-Vs. Though at times to accelerate I had to downshift to first and rev to 8ks to overtake and get ahead. And it worked. No overheating at those temperatures. Though more air intake would certainly have helped.
I took a day’s rest the next day. And the following day, the 25th of May, I started my way back. I reached home in 11 hours. At the end of the road, when I stood in front of my door, my readings were thus:

TRIP: 1465.3 Kms.
ODO: 9397 = 1464 Kms.
PETROL = 51.55 Litres.

The way back is almost always an indifferent feeling. Tried to liven it up by meeting up with Akshay. But once I was out of the hills, I just rode hard to reach home and start dreaming about the next ride, the next dream, feeling the next itch coming on, giving in to the urge of the throb of machine, the call of the unending roads, the adventure, wind rushing through man and machine, as adrenaline accelerating the heartbeat… the wheels have been set in motion.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks: xBhp and the guys there who inspire me to tour and to write. Special thanks to Dr. Arn, I kept thinking of him often during my tour, an ideal of endurance and holder of the iron butt record.

Special mention to the people who stood by me during my difficult times; Aruna, Ravi, Sakya, Heyna, Raju, Saurabh, Rajarshi, Ritu and my son Maël, who is often my riding companion, but not this time.