Discovering India on two wheels
Enjoy an all-out assault on your senses, and some of the best rural routes in the world ‘Right here and now the present is everything’
Early morning mist hangs heavy in the air as I wipe dew from the saddle of my trusty Royal Enfield, switch on the ignition and flip out the kickstarter. It’s already become second nature to crack the throttle as I swing my leg through the lever’s arc, then give the twistgrip a tickle as the lazy, longstroke single thuds into life. Around me a dozen or so riders are going through the same ritual, creating a sensational symphony of oldschool cool as we prepare to explore one of the world’s most incredible countries together.
This is my third day in India and the first that I’ve started to feel a part of the place. Having arrived from a damp and miserable British February I was completely unprepared for the full-frontal sensory explosion that hit me as I stepped through the terminal doors in Goa. Urban India is life turned up to 11 and it can be one hell of a slap in the face.
The heat gets you first. It may be winter here too, but the mercury can easily nudge towards a brainboiling 40ºC on the plains. Then there’s the hustle and bustle of the city, as cars, buses, pushbikes and trucks, not to mention the ubiquitous auto rickshaws (underpowered and overladen threewheelers with the uncanny ability to U-turn on a sixpence when you least expect), bump and grind from somewhere else to who knows where. Urgent horns, buzzing two-strokes and rumbling diesel engines provide a cacophonous soundtrack, as your nose fills with the eye-watering aroma of hot oil, burnt clutches and choking exhaust fumes.
It’s deafening and disorientating, but before long it’s also in the distance. India is a country of contrasts, boasting vast plains and rugged mountains, dense jungle, arid deserts, and some of the best rural riding routes to be found anywhere in the world.
By the time we roll out onto the road the sun has drawn up whatever moisture was hampering visibility and revealed the twisty tarmac snake that we’ll be following to our first chai stop. The journey so far has led us into the into the hills of Karnataka where it can be a bit chilly first thing, so I’m trying to keep out of the shade cast by the dense forest as much as possible to soak up some rays. The road surface is surprisingly good (although as experience has already proved, that could end at any moment) and the Bullet is running like a dream. With western manufacturers now producing in India there are alternatives (KTM 390 or BMW G310 anyone?), but the Enfield is still best way to travel. Forget about the ancient Redditch-derived 350, the latest 500s have the gear lever on the correct side, proper disc brakes and electric start. There are few bikes so at home on Indian roads.
The morning’s ride is verging on the sublime, as I chase the vanishing point though bend after glorious bend before grinding my footpeg through the apex of a hairpin and firing the Bullet into the next sensational section. Traffic is light, which means Zen moments… that feeling of being at one with the bike and the road seem to go on forever. India is a very spiritual country and maybe that enlightenment can be inhaled along with the pervasive scent of jasmine, camphor and sandalwood, or maybe it’s just making the most of riding a slower bike than I’m used to - either way it feels satisfyingly effortless. A lunch stop on the plains gives me a chance to dive into southern Indian cuisine once more. Rice and curry on a banana leaf is the order of the day, with a couple of vada (deep fired potato fritters with garlic and chilli) on the side. Good food is not hard to find, just follow the smell and make for the place busiest with locals. With full bellies we enjoy a change of pace for the rest of the day, cruising meandering roads through a remote wildlife sanctuary, that climb steadily into verdant hills to reveal one of the world’s greatest manmade wonders, Kerala’s stunning tea plantations.
In the evening we gather around a campfire, exchanging individual tales of the day’s ride over a few beers until someone produces a guitar and we laugh and sing into the night. It seems so far from the daily grind that’s there nothing for it than to get lost in the moment, and that’s pretty much what riding in southern India is all about. Tomorrow may well be different, but right here and now the present is everything.