Dev Bhumi Ride I ( Chaukori ) - | 01 oct 2009 - 04 oct 2009

Thanks to the team who had been a wonderful co riders:

I had not felt as excited about anything in recent years as I was for this. “This” was the Devbhumi Ride organised by Team 456. The feeling I had was very similar to the sort of feeling you have when going on a first date. You look forward to it until-your-eyes-pop-out with a lot of expectation, lust, even trepidation.

Now, if you are looking for sex, murder, drugs, high speed motorbike chases, treasure hunts, escapes from high security zones, then this is not the place. It is just the story of how a few strangers passionate about biking get together on a demanding ride into the hills, get to know each other, then fall in love with each other, and live happily ever after.

I have travelled quite a bit, mostly in cars, but I also have a few motorcycle rides under my belt. However, the DBR was unique for me as it meant about 1100 kms of motorcycling in a group of about 35 riders. I had had no such experience, and I was very eager to test my motorcycling skills, as also to meet the other 34 mentally deranged guys who wanted to do this for pleasure.  Although I had met a few of them before the trip, but the final introduction of all the members would be made only on the penultimate night of the trip. In the event, it turned out to be a motley ensemble of guys ranging in ages between 18 – 48, from businessmen to professionals to freelancers, the common denominator being the manic obsession with riding bikes.

So, we were all to assemble on D-Day (Thursday, 1^st October, 2009) at the Ghazipur Petrol Pump at 18.30 sharp. And like good boys, we were all there by 20.00. The organisers had forgotten to mention that they will wait till eternity for any of the group if they were late. There were a few last moment entrants like Saurabh Sharma, who had decided to butt-in on the last day only. Many guys were late in coming, but the honour for the same went to Mohit Singh, who was the last to arrive.

So, after smoking countless cigarettes, drinking innumerable soft drinks, and getting our bikes’ tanks filled, the moment of departure finally arrived around 20.30. We were a group of 27 bikes and 35 guys, some riding pillion. Mayank had hurt himself, however, he chose to accompany us in his car, which also served as a mobile wine shop. Parmesh was to lead the pack, and Sreejith was to be the tail. So, with loud revving, we set off at a leisurely pace. The traffic was heavy and we could not make good time until we crossed Ghaziabad. Thereafter, the traffic thinned, the air cooled, the pollution receded, and the ride started feeling different. Even then, it was hot and most of us were in Ts and shorts, except yours truly, who had foolishly decided to wear a wind cheater and warm track pants. So I suffered and suffered. I was also carrying my luggage in a back-pack, which turned out to be a big mistake for which I paid later.

We reached Hapur without incident and halted for dinner at a roadside restaurant, which was better than expected. After dinner, the riding got difficult as drowsiness began to set in. It had been decided to take halts after every 80 kms or so, which were religiously taken.  It was about 200 kms of Highway driving on roads which were by and large ok. It was not until we turned left from Rampur that the ride started becoming interesting. It was 03.30 and starting to get cold. Here, most riders took out their wind cheaters or jackets and track pants etc. So we passed on through Rudrapur, Haldwani and reached Bheem Taal at 05.30 in the morning. It was cold here, and everybody was looking forward to some sleep and loads of piping hot tea. In the event, however, it turned out to be just a halt of half an hour without sleep or tea. There were a few grumblings, unheeded, and we rode off again.

It had got cold, and I was shivering in my windcheater. So I put on a sweater and others also pulled on jackets etc. Bheem Taal onwards, it was serious hill country and we were climbing all the while to Almora, which is about 60 kms from Bheem Taal. The cold wind had helped get rid of the drowsiness a bit, and the curvy roads and high mountains also demanded better concentration from the riders. The scenery also got much more interesting. Parmesh called a brief halt by a riverside. The place was beautiful, and the water, surprisingly, was warm. So we all splashed around and I even catnapped. It is amazing how even 15 mins of good sleep can freshen you up. I was forcibly woken up to resume the journey.

Just short of Almora, it got foggy. It became heartbreakingly beautiful. We could see banks of clouds below us in the valley. Almora is perched on top of a mountain, and as we reached there, the sun broke out. A breakfast halt was scheduled at Almora, so we had parathas etc with tea. I have got many sweet teeth, and I can smell a sweets shop from miles. Almora is famous for Bal Mithai. It is a sort of a Burfi which is chocolate in color and has small white homoeopathic-like sugar balls on it. But we decided on some “peras” which looked delicious and turned out to be rather nice.

By now, our back sides were hurting like mad. We had been on bikes continuously for more than 13 hours, had not had any sleep or rest. Each time one got off the bike, it felt as if one was leaving a part, and an important part, of the backside glued to the seat. So we took a longer than usual halt here, drinking cups of teas, yapping, terrorising the local populace (ha!) etc. Until now, the members were not all acquainted with each other. There were small groups who knew each other, but that was all. At Almora, at least we all got to know each other by our faces and bikes. So one could catch fragments of conversations like “the TN Pulsar is mad, he keeps blocking my view” or “I will settle with this red Avenger at Chaukori” etc. Of course, all in good humour. It was not until 12 noon that we left from Almora, as Mohit had taken us to see a resort owned by his family.

Chaukori from Almora is 110 kms, but it felt like 300. It got hot again, and our fatigue also worsened. The roads in some patches here were bad (even though, largely, the roads in the mountains were much better than expected), and everybody’s asses were on fire. Some of the guys were actually rubbing their backsides, or walking with that funny broad legged gait as if they had had something large shoved up their rectums. So the halts became much more frequent. By now, the entire group had broken into smaller groups of 6 – 7 riders, and during these breaks, we all made acquaintance with the other riders in our respective sub-groups. We made a final halt at Arai Gar, where we had some delicious and very green guavas I had picked up from some kids on the way. At each if these halts, the first thing guys used to take out were cigarettes, and soon the smoking party would start, with guys bumming cigarettes, matches and what not.

From here, the objective was only 20 kms or so, and we made a dash for it after the break. Parmesh had started off in advance of all others to see to the arrangements at the resort that was booked for us. So, with no one to lead the group, everybody made their own speed, which was faster than the rest of the journey.  So it was exactly at 1600 that we made our grand entry into Chaukori.

Chaukori can at best be called a small village, and its sole claim to fame is that it offers grand views of the Nanda Devi range. I had been here some 10 years ago, and the village seemed to have changed a bit. There were 4 – 5 resorts here now, apart from the KMVN accommodation which used to be the only shelter ten years ago. The Ojaswi resort was more than what we had expected, hot water in bath rooms, LCD TVs in rooms, and bloody room service as well! Soon, like a pack of hungry wolves, we descended on the poor staff, ordering omelettes, pakoras, and what not.  I had a most log-like sleep for a good half an hour. The whole evening thereafter, we ate and ate and ate, so much so, that the dinner could only be served at 10 in the night, because the kitchen was overwhelmed with the snacks ordered by the marauders. There was to be a bonfire also, which had to be shelved because it rained a bit. However, I suspect that the resort was short of staff, and whatever staff they had was busy with food, so poor guys could not arrange for the bonfire. Dinner was chicken curry and chicken curry and chicken curry (there were dal and sundry other items of the vegetarian variety, but I had eyes and stomach only for the chicken curry). And this, when the chicken curry was not all that great also. It was just that we were all so famished that we gorged on whatever was laid out for us.

It was already past 2300 by the time dinner was finished, and the next day we had to go to Pataal Bhuvaneshwar, a pre-historic cave temple some 35 kms away. So we all turned in with loud noises about getting up early next morning and watching the sun rise and all that jazz.

I am quite sure that everybody would have slept like logs that night. I did. So much so, that I could get up only at 08.30 the next morning. So I missed the sunrise and the other attractions that the early morning held, of which there were quite a few. The skies had cleared in the morning after the rains last night, and I could have got a grand view of the Nanda Devi. Magar yeh ho na saka. Nevertheless, many in my group got to see and capture this sight. They also discovered a very good point from where to see the Nanda Devi, and we were to go there repeatedly in these two days.

Breakfast was quite a meagre affair and served in rooms. I have a big body which needs a lot of fuel, and this spartan affair was not enough for me. Amit was good enough to offer his breakfast to me, as he is a vegetarian and did not want the scrambled eggs in breakfast, so I gratefully accepted.

After breakfast, we started for Pataal Bhuvaneshwar, a ride of about 35 kms one way. The road was the same upto Arai Gar 20 kms away on which we had come. After that, there was a small road leading to Pataal, which, despite the fact that it did not lead to any places of importance, was in very good shape. We  were all very pleasantly surprised. Mohit had hurt himself on the way in, so he decided to ride pillion with me.  He also took the opportunity to take some good shots while on the move. It was a welcome opportunity for me also, as I got to know Mohit better, and found in him an appreciative listener to my singing. I must say that I had not felt like singing so much as I did on this ride. The sun was shining bright, we were not going anywhere in particular, my cellphone was not working, the petrol was being paid for by someone else, and I was a part of a 35 strong gang who drooled on bikes like I did. So sing I did on this ride, and Mohit was polite enough to appreciate it later. I have also realised that the best journeys are the ones when you are not going anywhere in particular. This cave temple held no attraction for me, as temples rarely do for me. It was just the promise of another hard ride through hill country which I was looking forward to.

In the event, however, the Pataal Bhuvaneshwar turned out to be a pre-historic cave, which made for a bit of adventure for us. The entry to the cave was narrow enough to deter some of us from entering. It was also mentioned clearly outside the temple that during this period, the Oxygen level inside the cave was very low, and that heart patients, asthmatics and diabetics should not venture in. The cave goes down 90 feet through a very narrow passage, with iron chains on both sides to cling on to for dear life. The passage was steep, slippery and required careful handling. Most of us decided to go and made it safely to the cave. Even Mayank, with his hairline fracture, made it safely and was there before most of us to guide us in. There were very interesting natural shapes inside the cave, which our guide interpreted as the shapes of various gods. All in all, minus the mumbo-jumbo, it was an interesting experience.

I will always remember the ride back from Pataal to Chaukori as the most romantic one of my life. Mohit was riding pillion with me on the ride back, but he decided to get down at Arai Gar and wait for Nitin. So from there to Chaukori, for about 20 kms, I was on my own again, with my bull for companion, apart from the skies which had darkened, the gently swaying pines, and the clear and again surprisingly smooth road. In such august company, my thoughts wandered to all the blessings of my life, all the loves of my life, and this memorable ride, and I was filled with gratitude to the Lord Almighty.

On reaching Chaukori, I straight went to the place I have mentioned earlier, from where the Nanda Devi is seen the best. Now this place deserves a special mention, as if I were ever to go to Chaukori again, it will be solely for the reason to sit at this place for a couple of hours. This place is reached by a small dirt track from just outside our resort. After about 300 mtrs, you leave the track and climb up a small slope and when you crest the slope, you come upon a grand vista. This point looks upon a broad, very beautiful and green valley, dotted with small hill cottages, and across the valley, you can see the towering peaks of the Nanda Devi range. There is Nanda Devi, the Panchchuli, and many others 7000 mtrs + peaks. The Nanda Devi is, of course, the second highest peak in India. The Nanda Devi, however, played naughty and refused to lift her veil of clouds. Only the base of the mountain was visible. But I knew that she was there, just behind the clouds, and I could feel her enormity, if not see it exactly. Looking at tall mountains always makes me feel like transporting myself to the top of the mountain in question, and I can spend long hours lost in this daydreaming.

I was lost in this favourite, even though not very frequent pastime of mine when I heard bikes coming in my direction, and soon enough, Yadu, Saurabh Nayar, Amit, Nitish, Saurabh Sharma and a couple others made their way up the slope. My spell was broken. I mouthed a few silent obscenities, and greeted the jerks with a scowl, which had little effect on the @#$#%##^. Thereafter, we trekked to the top of an adjoining hillock, and took pictures there. It was all very fetching, to borrow a line from Bill Bryson.

This night was to be the night of the bonfire. Booze was arranged by Parmesh, Vinod and Mayank and soon enough, we all settled down with our drinks around the fire. The fire also needed its Patiala pegs of petrol, and before long, we had a roaring bonfire going.  The full moon peeping out from behind the clouds gave a surreal feel to the setting. It was only then that the introductions started. Everybody knew only a few of the group until then. So we all introduced ourselves, with detail of our respective families, professions, and among other tit-bits and obscenities, our bikes’ registration numbers. So now the bike nos. also had names associated with them. 007 turned out to be Shantanu, a lecturer of botany at Deshbandhu college ( even though he looks more like a student), the crazy guy on the Avenger turned out to be Vikas, the TN regn turned out to be Barani and so on, the long haired rider turned out to be Rathee. We were a truly pan Indian group, probably the only region not being represented was the North East. The night was for bonding with the guys, as the journey was for bonding with the machine, and bond we did. Lasting friendships were made that night, with promises to be on all the future rides together. Akshat wanted to register for the Leh ride there and then (the fact that the ride was more than 9 months into the future did not seem to bother him). For a brief period that night, we became a brotherhood joined together by this ride.

I do not remember what we had for dinner that night. I must have had a few drinks too many. The next day was to be our ride back home, so we should have turned in early. However, everybody lingered around, hoping to stretch the night as much as possible. So, guys hopped from room to room, and chatted late into the night. But I slept a very contended man that night.

The next morning, I got up at 0545, and rushed to a last sight of the Nanda Devi to my favourite spot. There were 7-8 of us. We reached there, but still no Nanda Devi. She still chose to play high and mighty. We remained there for some time, looking at other peaks, Shantanu explaining the various tree types in the area, taking pictures, looking at school children in their morning fitness drill, trying to take in as much as possible of the place before finally turning back to our gloriously boring lives in Delhi.

Breakfast was the same meagre stuff and I bribed the waiter for another portion. I had a cold water bath which freshened me completely for the journey. By 0830, we were all assembled in the parking of the resort, bidding our adieu to Chaukori and serenity. It had started to drizzle, but I had packed by then and did not want to open the chaos that my backpack was. So, I kept my windcheater on and let the rainsuit rest deep under the layers of dirty clothing in my bag. Sumit Sarkar was good enough to lend me a couple of bungee cords, so I tied my pack to the back seat of my bike. On the way in, since I had not tied my pack to the bike, I first had it on my back, but soon tired. Then I had put it on my fuel tank just like that, without tying it properly. This had greatly restricted the angle of turning of my bike, and also made the pack prone to slipping, which almost caused me to fall down on a couple of turns. It did get me burnt however, as while trying to keep my bike from falling down, I rubbed my leg against the silencer which was to trouble me for some days as it developed into a big blister. On such long trips, proper planning and packing cannot be overemphasised, and this was brought home to me very clearly.

The journey back was long and arduous, even perilous, as it rained incessantly. I had to pull out my rain-suit from its hiding place. We stopped for refreshments at Almora, and we all gorged on some excellent pakoras there. After Almora, the rain got heavier and we were forced to stop just short of Bhawali, the market town. Thereafter, we got separated and reached Kathgodam in groups of threes and fours. We lost precious hours in regrouping. By then it had got dark, and driving became even more difficult. All those who wear glasses, and on long trips you anyway need glasses, can vouch for the difficulties of driving in the night when it rains. The light from oncoming traffic scatters on your glasses, and you just can’t see anything. Also, the famously discourteous and ignorant drivers of this country of ours just do not know to dip their lights if there is traffic coming from opposite direction. There are complete idiots out there, who do not even know that fog lights are used only in foggy conditions, and that they are no status symbol. So, on one such stretch, I completely lost sight of the road ahead, and went into the gaddhas on the sides of the road. How I escaped a fall there, I do not myself know. I must have been doing about 60, and at that speed I went into a gaddha which almost completely unseated me, and I lost my grip on the handle as well. I could have easily broken a limb there. In the event, however, I escaped unhurt but shaken to the core.

Thereafter, it was just a lot of very careful driving through a nagging rain into the night. Parmesh led well, and Sreejith did a wonderful job at the tail. We stopped at Rampur for dinner at a roadside dhaba, where the food turned out to be nice. There were a few minor incidents, Nitish’s bike got punctured, Mohit’s clutch wire broke, Barani’s bike also developed a fault. But we had a mechanic with us who sorted out these troubles. It was slow progress, nevertheless, and we reached Ghaziabad at about 0345. Team 456 decided to wait for all the rest of the bikers to catch up, and asked us to go ahead. We said our goodbyes, made promises to keep in touch, and left. I reached home at 0445, bone tired, filthy and grimy, but with a sense of accomplishment.

I do not know what it is about riding and travelling that I love so much. I have tried to analyse it many times. It is certainly not the scenery, it is not the food nor the drink, it is not the wish to get anywhere. It is probably the desire to keep going, to be on the move on your favourite vehicle, to philosophise on how all life is a journey and that you are doing your bit. And while engaged in all these most honourable activities, if you make friends for life, then why not?

Vishal Suri   
Member Team456