It was on a cold,
fogged and drenched night of an August night in 2012; that I stumbled upon her
unknowingly and unaware of whom she was and what she meant. She blessed me with
little mercy, just little enough, that I managed to emerge out of her confines
with still life inside me. Certain events, people and places have a special
impact on our lives and with that specialty occurs a lifetime relation; a
relation that plays hide and seek, while in the process making the bonding much
stronger, interesting and eternal. Past
2012 and as each August approaches I instinctively prepare myself to embark on
a 2K + Kms drive, to Anmod and back, with no specific reason to justify the
energy and expense. I did it in 2012, bettered that in 2013, and in 2014; I
embarked on yet another journey in
search of uncontrolled ecstasy that was available in abundance in the regions
surrounding Anmod, the frontier of NW Karnataka with yet another
mesmerizing state; Goa. In the past I had just managed to rush through Anmod,
while she was busy partying with the powerful monsoon winds, under the cover of
darkness and she proved to be a
nostalgic pit stop every time I climbed over the Western Ghats, from Goa on the
other side, and landed up in NW Karnataka with shivering body and sleepy eyes.
The first time I met her, I feared her; the second time, I challenged her; and
in this instance, I had planned to indulge in her for a good couple of days
from a hideout that was nestled deep in the forests of enigmatic Uttar Kannad,
the land of gods. The journey started
from my office on a dull evening as I cranked the 2 liter TDI engine of my
Jetta DSG parked cozily in the basement parking and drove out in the twilight
with no one for company. For the first 340 Kms, until Bangalore, the drive
was uneventful expect for a moment when I first crossed 200 KMPH in the Jetta
and thereafter; it was a frantic search
for my colleague Vidhyaprakash (VP) in the north Western outskirts of this
polluted city. It was past 60 minutes since I began the search and with time I was beginning to lose patience
for I had more than 500 Kms to cover to find ourselves hidden deep inside the
forests of Anmod with sufficient time left behind in the day next for a
meaningful relaxation. Moreover; it was a manic Independence Day weekend
and the entire city was rushing out as it would when attacked by an Alien ship
and this multiplied the pressure to find VP ASAP. Few minutes after I lost all
my preserved patience, VP was there in front of the car as in a thriller film,
thanks to Xenon headlamps, he was able to identify the car from a distance and
stop me at the right moment. With men and material consolidated, it was now a
non-stop run to Anmod after a halt at my favorite tea shop @ Tumkur under the
cover of pre-dawn darkness and sleep inducing chillness. Distances were covered at a manic pace, thanks to the DSG gearbox, as I
never felt a hint of fatigue, nevertheless; the dangerous culprit, pre-dawn
sleep, averted my attempt to drive uninterruptedly all the way upto Anmod.
Eventually I gave up to the uncertain element and pulled out of the majestic
National Highway 4 past Chitradurga and slept instantly at a dark corner of the
seductive NH13, the national highway that speeds all the way from Solapur
towards Mangalore in the distant and romantic West coast. I had driven over NH13 twice in the past and its mind boggling memoirs
provided comfortable warmth against the harsh countryside chillness as I sank
into a deep, out of this world sleep. The dawn was just a couple of hours
away from waking us up, and Anmod; still more than couple of hundred Kms…
The Jetta was doing
in excess of 160 KMPH, but I was yet to undress my sluggishness induced by the
pre-dawn sleep carried over from a night of high speed drives and monsoon
drenched dreams. It was a relaxed drive thereafter and we eventually made it to the Goa exit at Dharwad, from where starts the
amazing road that would humble the most determined of drivers during a monsoon
drenched night. This time though, she was dry and hot with the usual
“wilderness” absent or, even; anywhere near to her causing a big upset to our
plans. I was disappointed that the deadly charm of Anmod couldn’t be
illustrated to VP, as he sat beside me wondering why I went mad about this
place. With his question justified by the peculiar behavior of monsoon this
year, I drove helplessly towards the frontier village only to be stunned by her
powerful uniqueness. Upon reaching Anmod we relaxed for few minutes at the
highway tea shop, while inquiring about our hideout for the next 2 days and the
pathway leading towards it. I had booked
a cottage in the exotic Shangri La Jungle village nestled deep in the forests
of Anmod and it was a good 8 Kms jungle tract that need to be covered up to be
there within the confines of this notoriously romantic resort. With the
apprehension of taking the brand new car into the unknown swinging strong, I
eventually laid my trust on the 159 mm clearance Jetta had over the terrain and
my immense patience to force the conscience to enter the breathtaking Jungle
tract. It took a stunning 1.5 hours to cover the petite 8 Kms tract shredded
with boulders and slippery mud, as I managed to cross this stretch without a
single hit to Jetta’s underbody. The highlight of this 8 Kms drive was a
tri-junction (Photo 6) where utter confusion let me and VP into a remote
village, with cats and dogs as its primary inhabitants, in search of people to
ask for directions. Upon reaching the resort, eventually, we were stunned
to be welcomed into a luxurious indulgence that just didn’t fit the rugged forest
we drove through few minutes earlier. We were even greeted with chilled beer
and Bacardi Breezers and the setting was too much of a temptation that, we
quickly grabbed a couple of cans and rushed to our cottage to dive into the
magical ambience of this jungle resort. Day 1 went past quickly as we settled
into the cozy dining area, after dusk, with chilled Breezers to plan for our 14
Kms long trek to be executed the day next. When
I embarked on this long journey from Chennai the original plan was to trek to
Kuveshi from Castle rock, and capture on the 5D Mark-3 a stunning drop shot of
the mighty Dudh Sagur from above the serpentine North Western railway line
through the Braganza Ghat. But as in most of my past instances, this plan
turned out to be a dream rather than reality as resort manager Rahul and our
Guide for the day next, George, disintegrated our plans with words of extreme
danger and difficulty that would deter us should we attempt to hike to Kuveshi under
prevailing conditions. As a last resort,
we had no option but to settle for the insanely exploited Castle rock to Dudh
Sagur (DSR) trek through the Braganza Ghat section that would be littered with
thousands of people on a manic weekend like this one. Nevertheless, I felt
interested as I never have attempted this route in the past and all my hikes to
DSR were from Kulem, Goa. Moreover, VP
was extremely motivated to walk over the tracks and get himself pictured below
the mesmerizing DSR falls, probably; a lifetime dream for him and I obliged
to support this cause with no second thoughts. The night blanketed us with its
monsoon filled winds and moisture, as our cottage went dark and quiet to let us
have the sleep of a lifetime…
At 6 AM sharp we
were greeted by George and his sturdy Mahindra & Mahindra 4 wheel drive
Jeep to pick us up and drop at the Castle Rock railway station for the 14 Kms
walk over ballast, sleepers and metal tracks. It was annoyingly disturbing to learn the capability of this 4 wheel
drive vehicle as it covered the same 8 Kms tract in, probably; 25 mins while
the Jetta took an insanely lazy 1.5 hours. I wouldn’t complain, for both of
these are made for 2 extremely different purposes and I just compared to
add words to this travelogue. Once out on the highway the differences in
stability were apparent as the Jeep felt completely disturbed over the
slippery, smooth Tarmac and struggled for traction around the high speed
corners drenched in rain. We were now headed towards Ram Nagar in search of an
ATM and upon learning that the only one installed in this Village wasn’t working
due to heavy rains; we headed further North to Londa. After picking up sufficient money from this lazy, rain thrashed village,
we sped past romantic Konkan vistas towards a village that had the potential to
spark the strongest romance from within the most frustrated men on this planet.
Thanks to our ATM adventure, we took an “abnormal” route to Castle Rock that
contained breathtaking views of Uttar Kannad’ s “make you believe in God”
landscapes and “make your mouth open wide” stories as the 4 wheel drive Jeep
just annihilated anything the terrain threw at it. If only the rains were
normal this year, my tears that were held on the brim of my eyelids would have flowed
out of them overwhelmingly. The drizzle was mild and the ambience was calm
when we hit the ultra-narrow street to Castle Rock station, as we waved a bye
to George and hurriedly purchased the return tickets from Dudh Sagur station. With
the heart beat settling into a normal rhythm, our long walk into the Braganza
Ghat section began with a “normal” note, thanks to the poor monsoon winds, as
the electrifying ambience of the monsoon drenched Braganza was completely
absent. I wasn’t disappointed though, for the setting I was walking through was
light years better than the one I would have been sitting under should I have
stayed back in Chennai. The bigger
agenda, however; was to take a shot of VP in front of the mighty DSR and
fulfill his dream, for which, he had incurred enormous efforts to free himself
from varied social hand cuffs. The 14 Kms walk was straightforward; as
expected, tough and frustrating as the legs began to ache with relentless
torture sent by the ballast and sleepers. I had walked on tracks, twice in the
past, in pursuit of DSR and both of them were from Kulem, on the Goa’n side and
exactly opposite to the direction we were coming from now. I love the Kulem route for it offers a splendid view of the complete DSR
falls with trains chugging right through the middle creating mayhem of emotions.
In contrast, the Castle Rock route has nothing to offer as special on a trek
like this and for reasons unknown, it continues to be the option preffered by
90% of the people who love to visit DSR. It took a manic 4 hours for me and VP
to rush to the falls to capture the shot he came running for (Photo 15), and we
had to rush because; we were bound to catch an express train at DSR station and
missing that would mean a second 14 Kms walk back to Castle Rock which our
stamina couldn’t afford at that instant of time. Looking at the ocean of people
waiting for this train (Photo 14), I instantly melted and viewed with
Jealous the freight train halted in the parallel track that was awaiting clearance
to roar towards Kulem. It was empty, full of space and adventure and more than
anything else; the thoughts from the past 2 years when I managed a paid ride exactly
in this freight loco and sped past the human ocean offered a strong sting. The only relief for my annihilated stamina
at that point of time was the distant view of hills with monsoon clouds
hovering around them, reluctantly (Photo 13). When the train broke through the
ocean of people and made its presence felt on the lonely track, there was a stampede
like rush to get into it as me and VP were thrown between the door and wash
basin of an AC coach. Those 20 mins of
train ride were the most horrifying moments of my life as I blackened out from
lack of oxygen upon reaching Castle Rock. It took a significant 10 mins to
regain consciousness, thanks to the pure, cold air and the mild drizzle that
had begun to transform into a heavy downpour. Few anxious minutes later we were
picked by George under pouring rains and on the way back to Shangri La, he stopped
by a “my kind of” tea shop for a glass of hot ginger tea that seemed out of
this world under the heavenly evening downpour, and more so; after our tiring
full day hike. Thereafter, it was a romantic drive through the Jungle tract
and the last evening of our vacation was spent with chilled Breezers watching
the rhythmic havoc of monsoon rains. Moments
like these will be cherished in our memoirs eternally, no matter how lonely and
drained we were, as we welcomed the day next with packed up luggage and a hefty
bill settlement. It was a quiet and boring drive until Ram Nagar, after
which the Jetta transformed its character from being a subtle cat averting
threats to an arrogant bull speeding through the crowd trying to conquer it. As we gained speed and covered distances at
an intimidating pace, I was still doubtful if VP was satisfied with this Jaunt?
I knew he wasn’t, but I was helpless expect for the photo 15 and I also knew very
well it alone wouldn’t do justice to his efforts in joining me for this
unforgettable weekend Jaunt. Sorry VP, monsoon is a maniac, either ways…
