Mahabaleshwar

STRAWBERRY HILLS

A much needed respite after a treacherous 3 months of killer work, killer people... Anshuman Pandey, Sukanya Shankar come to mind. So, we bit the bait Daz threw for a quick ride to Mahabs, mainly thanks to Royal Enfield. They gave us a guide, Datta; mechanic Shiva; and 4 bikes - 3 T Birds, 1 Electra SS. As it is for any ride, we didn't have a clue what was in store... Read on.

Started off the weekend before the Kalaghoda Festival, needed to recharge desperately before the next month of Arts & Drag Racing. The excitement the previous evening was very much palpable, especially the wife which was quite surprising. On retrospect, she didn’t know what was coming. 8 hours on the road would pulverise her behind and mine and everyone else's. Till 11 pm the night before, I wasn’t sure which bike I wanted to ride, but I'm glad I didn’t opt for the blue T Bird which I nominated cousin PJ to ride with his girl. He was a bit more used to shifting from the left-right brake-gear pattern that regular Bullets come with. I picked up Martin’s '88 standard which I had been riding since 1998, felt safe and it had just been overhauled and needed to be run in. This was a great opportunity - a trip to the Mahabs and I could deliver a perfectly run in bike to MDC, what better way to repay him for years of riding her. I didn’t know a new piston would ruin the ride that much though!

So we were heading out on Sat 28 Jan and back Sun. Scheduled departure 5.30 am from the Enfield showroom, Bandra. Trouble started before the word GO! The blasted mechanic came @ 6.30. Everyone else assembled at 5.30 sharp - Nasim & Kini, Danesh, Anil, Dazz, Ashish, PJ and Anjali and our sole Pulsar rider, Kushru. Utilised this time to have a bit of fun with Danesh's cafe racer, cut away blaster. I loved it. And all of us filled up and waited, again.

Finally set off at 7 am. 2 minutes away, another Electra who had joined us - courtesy Enfield, had a puncture. Stopped off at the puncture place at the Bandra mosque where I had once repaired Markose's 1.6 Fiat Siena. It turned out to be a false alarm, it wasn't filled properly so were out of there in ten. Another quick stop at Deonar and we were riding out straight till our first stop at Kamath, Nagotna. No problems till here, except for a minor hiccup on Anil’s Electra SS – his left foot peg came off! Royal Enfield please note. Anil being the King of Adjusting, managed shifting without the peg and rode with his foot on the crash guard, with a stance not unlike a HOG rider.

10 minutes out of Kamath, Danesh’s mod bike got its first puncture. Found a Mallu puncture place and got a puncture seal on his tube. The speedsters in the group decided to stay on with Danesh and help him while the run-ins and faint hearted decided to move on. I was governed by a 60 km limit due to the run in. PJ decided to stay behind me for company though he was striding a T Bird. On a highway it moves and it must have been quite frustrating keeping to that limit. Speed stars Dazz, Kini, Ashish and Kushru caught up with us in no time. Saw them zip ahead of us at 90 – 100 I’m sure. But in another half hour, lo, that mod tyre on Danesh blaster gave way again! Lucky we found another Mallu puncture fellow again! They are all over the highway. I’m glad I didn’t have to use my foot pump and non-existent expertise on this trip. Thanks to these fellows. But, as luck would have it, this guy was a total novice and looked more like a BA student rather than a highway tyre mech. Kini with Shiva the mechanic had moved on ahead so Dazz, Kushru, PJ and me were left to handle this change of tyre & tube. We decided to do it without Shiva. We were set back about 2 hours at this spot. I can’t remember anything happening so painfully slow since my last event in snail-paced Kolkatta. We dismantled neat and nice, but putting it pack was mechanical jugglery considering this one was a mod bike. As it is, Enfield parts are not the best fit. I resigned, lay down myself on Dazz’s plush cushion seats for a power cat nap and let the boys figure it out. Shikes, this was a holiday mate, I didn’t feel like racking my greys. I promised myself I would spend 2 hours at Antone’s garage every Saturday before I rode out next and de-mystify the set up of this apparently DIY bike. It’s quite pathetic that in almost 8 years of riding and highway trips, not once had I changed tyres or cables on my own. On the Indian highways you always find someone to help you out.

This Wait buggered us, we were hungry and tired. It was bloody hot; this Western winter was a hoax. This was supposed to be Jan, chrissakes! But it was at least 30 degrees and we could have been in the Sahara on a Paris Dakkar sojourn. By the time the Wait was done, we were so charged up we didn’t stop for any lunch till we reached at 3.30 at Mahabs. I always had a feeling the Sahayadaris were a mild bunch of Ghats – but the 40 km of twists from Poldapur reminded me every bit of the Queen of Hair Pins – the mighty Sigur Ghats between Masanagudi and Ootty down South. What is worse, brothers – never; never, ever ride these Ghats on a non-run-in motor. I’m positive; hauling a 15 tonner with 30 tons on it wouldn’t need that much patience! I kept the RPM under 2,500, max 3,000 – I had busted a piston not too long ago and was petrified of an encore. I could hear everyone’s motor straining and, bleeding and spewing oil and smoke. Virtual velodrome, it made kettle drums out of mighty motors. Except for one, Dazz’s Big Black Beauty, the mighty thumping 500. He was scraping pegs, doing the jig and hauling a good 50 kgs besides his massive 100 kg beer belly. Oh sorry, I left out the soft purring Pulsar, it just whistled past, as the rest of us mauled our 350cc donkeys! Kini’s T bird spewed out its muffler along with the exhaust at one point – RE please note once again (at least give these bikes a thorough check before you get them out on a promo ride. Tsk tsk). Miriam and myself were cooling our behinds when we saw Kini, his T Bird sounding somewhere between the Kurla express and a fog horn, with mech Shiva holding the scalding hot muffler like a bazooka in his bare, calloused, engine-oil-massaged-hands, I don’t know how. Must be mech tech!

Well, we reached finally! 10 weary bikers paraded through Mahabaleshwar town in search of a kill. I swear, I could have slaughtered the cow which crossed me across the turning for lunch. Reason reasoned… leave it, there’s a rather large Gujju populace in this Surat-of-the-hills and mere animal instinct could be construed as blasphemy. So, 16 bikers ride into a Gujju restaurant and dismounted in Hells Angels style. The owner didn’t like our faces, neither we his. He said we blocked his passage, we said buzz off and we did – to another much serene-er pasture of a dhaba slightly off town limits. I think I counted 33 dishes and a 100 paranthas between 16 of us. :) The fun had begun.

Datta, the guide got into his act and he took us to our camp for the night. 12 km away from town was a neat little cottage tucked away overlooking a magnificent valley, perched on a hill. He happened to be a mountain geezer from around the place, we couldn’t thank him enough for this. The facilities were basic, but it was every bit worth it. Definitely the highlight of the trip. The nip in the air was soothing. I remember 27 kilos of BBQ chicken, lots of booze and Gudang Garam, a 360 deg view of the stars from the terrace and the valley and a bonfire. Beautiful. Dazz had not missed any detail; he even had a boom box and trance music. It was complete.

Can’t decide which was better, the early morning charm of the place or the first impression of the previous night. My camera decided it wouldn’t work with any locally made battery, the only existing Duracells ran out, so I missed some really fabulous shots. This could have been Ireland in summer, where I had just been recently.

Dazz and I were the only morning people. I had mistaken Anil’s snoring for a grinding machine but the others were still oblivious to this phenomenon. We decided to check out a bit of the mountain side and got our bikes out – more of mountain roads, like winding orange peel and the crisp mountain air. Back at base, Kushru was sitting around and Miriam was done getting ready so we headed out for breakfast @ Strawberry Joint. Run by an elderly Parsi couple and their Alsatian, it once again reaffirmed the fact that Parsis relish their food. We polished off plates of Akuri, Spanish omelets with chicken & ham, heaps of homemade strawberry jam and the best, freshest, creamiest strawberry shakes mixed with jam in it. That was a Dazz idea, very innovative. You should try it. We spent close to 2 hours munching all this, mooting ideas of a peaceful life up here, of restaurants and crowds waiting to be fed our culinary creations. That’s when it suddenly dawned upon me that my lights were not working, and neither was PJs’ – RE please note third prob with an RE tour bike. It was in the interest of safety that we left for Bombay ASAP and reached before sunset. The prospect of an 8 hour ride back was horrifying. We went right back, got everyone out of bed. Quick good byes and OK breakfasts later, we filed out for Table Top. The entire troupe waited up on the main road for someone late and ha, that’s when a BLIND/ DRUNK Yamaha Rx at a 20 kmph rammed into my made-for-Himalayas steel panniers. I couldn’t believe it, there were 9 bikes just waiting on the road side and he had to ram into us? Maybe he got distracted… Nincompoop! Miriam was stunned and shaken. Nothing happened to us. The pannier itself was damaged a bit, needed a weld job. So some of us with Shiva decided to get all the welding required on Kini’s, mine and PJs done while the others checked out Table Top. Shiva could not figure out the wiring problem with the lights. The plan was to leave by 12 pm. We finally left at 2 and we had to reach Panvel at least by 6.30 OR I decided we would check into a hotel, wherever we reached, and proceed in the morning.

The ride back to Poladpur down the Ghats was mind-bloody-blowing. Now it was my chance to scrape and do the jig. The Bullet, especially one like mine, fully loaded, panniers plus wife, is just an amazing trip down steep, winding roads. The shocks bottomed out countless times, footpegs scraped, panniers scraped... ahh bliss! The ride back to our next stop for lunch at Kamath was serious, with just the goal of reaching on time at a constant 60 kph. The ride back was largely uneventful. The speed demons burnt some serious rubber – am sure Ashish, Dazz, etc must have done 100 – 110 all along. I wouldn’t do that on these roads. Reached Chembur at 7.30, not bad at all. 5 ½ hours inclusive of breaks. Good one Dazz! Thanks.