Bababudangiri - A Stay that wasn't meant to be
Bababudangiri at EveryTrail
Map created by EveryTrail:GPS Geotagging
At the very edge of the Western Ghats, in the district of Chikmagalur is a place holy to both Muslims and Hindus. Some call it Bababudangiri, others Dattapeeta. It screams "Up yours" to all the divisive forces which have been trying to split our tolerant and multicultural country on religious lines. It is perhaps the most beautiful place in that section of the Western Ghats.
Please note, I said - the most beautiful place in that section of the Western Ghats. Not the entire world. Just the Western Ghats. But if you know the Western Ghats, you'd probably say, "Every section of the Ghats is beautiful! You are a jackass to single out just Bababudangiri. You %$#@$%!!!". Point taken. But seriously man, go check out Bababudangiri. It appealed to this "average Indian biker", so I guess it will appeal to a lot other people as well :P
And so, without further ado, I shall dive right into the boring details ;)
We got to Chikmagalur at around 4 pm. We being - Jishnu, Kudz, Vance and yours truly. We had stopped earlier in the day at Halebeed and Belur, so we were pretty much already done for the day. Riding through the narrow roads of Chikmagalur is a little surreal. You see so many many Fiat Unos on the road. As if all the Unos of the world decided to congregate here. If you ever feel like buying a Fiat Uno, you know where to look! And if you thought Bangalore was a one-way traffic mess, you got to look at Chikmagalur.
But then, we saw that sign board on IG Road. Hang on. Lets rewind a bit, IG road? Before you remind me to fix an appointment with my optometrist, I did say IG road, and no, I did not mistake MG road for IG road. IG stands for Indra Gandhi. She was elected MP from the Chikmagalur constituency in 1978, and the folks here, they adore her, nay, love her. Of course! They even renamed their most important road, which incidentally is now a one way, in memory of their "Dear Leader". Freaky huh? Must be the only town to have its best road called IG road. Come one man, we are talking modern Indian tradition here. The best road in town has to be MG Road. Didn't they teach you that stuff in 6th Std. Civics?
And yes, Karkala was a part of that constituency back then. Something we like to remind Kudz every time we talk politics.
Back to the sign board. It said - "Kemmangundi - 40 kms". Just 40 kms away. Very tempting. But Kudz was, "Array yaar, ruk jathe hain yaar. Chai vai pee kay chalthay hain...". So, we halted at a road side joint just outside Chikmagalur.
40 kms, at the rate we were traveling, was doable in hmm.... well... half an hour. You see, we were between 100kmph - 110 kmph most of the time.... but well, thats another story... :)
You really don't feel like you are in the hills in Chikmagalur. Just FYI, it can get really hot in the summers. You can see the Western Ghats rising a little beyond the edge of the town. And we hurried on the plain smooth tarmac towards the rising range without a care in the world. The first zig-zag section on the road heralds the beginning of the ghats and the coffee estates.
A section where someone's bike would run out of fuel at 11.45 pm later that night. Muhuhaha.
A little after that is an almost unnoticeable fork in the road. You go straight ahead and you'll be in Shimoga sooner than you can list all the Indian Prime Ministers. That is not where you want to go. You want to go to Bababudangiri, so take that left turn and into the dark green canopy topped road. We visited this region in July, a month traditionally know for copious quantities of precipitation. Ignorance is indeed bliss.
.jpg)
At any clearing you could see these cloud covered hills, and a slight hint of drizzle. The sight was mesmerizing, as always. I have stopped carrying my camera with me on these trips. Don't ask why. And I am beginning to regret that decision. For what it is worth I take a few snapshots with my phone camera. Anyways, this section reminded me of the ride from Kalka to Shimla.
We almost got run over by this crazy mo-fo in a black Indica. This bass-gital was taking blind curves like he was Louis Hamilton himself. Jackass drivers make life difficult, but one learns to live with such incidents ;) One better learn! hehe..
We stopped to take photos and put on the rain gear. As everywhere, the local people got interested in these bikers with strange riding gear. They milled around, and the questioning session began, "Where are you going?", "Where are you coming from?", "Why didn't you take the bus?"
These are hard working, simple folk from rural India. Picking coffee for a living. They are the backbone of the Indian Coffee industry. Picking coffee is back breaking work. Most coffee workers in Chikmagalur are migrant workers from North Karnataka and Andra Pradesh. They live in a world so different from ours. It is difficult for us to comprehend their life, and for them, ours. Yet in a weird way our lives are interdependent. We love our coffee, and they help grow and pick that coffee.
We asked them, if there was some place to stay nearby and they said, if you are headed towards Bababudangiri, then you'll find rooms there. For free. And that is when we decided to halt at Bababudangiri.
A few hundreds of meters later, the road deteriorated. First more gravel than asphalt. And then more mud than gravel, and then just mud with the odd hint of asphalt hidden a few millimeters under the mud. The heavy precipitation makes this region prone to mudslides.
.jpg)
We found that perfect spot where you can see the plains below. For as far as the eye can see. The silver oak hid in the late afternoon shadow of the hills we were climbing. They covered acres of coffee estates. It was the just the place where if you peed, then your pee would probably not touch the ground below. I think at least a 50 feet vertical drop, and then sloping at almost 70 degrees for god knows how many more 100's of feet below! Jishnu, the motographer in the group had a gala time. See image below.
.jpg)
The ride upto this point is fairly sedate, nothing too exotic that you'd want to write home about. What transpires next is what really makes this ride worthwhile. The road snakes up the hill. 500 meters of straight roads a hair pin bend and another 500 meters of straights and another hair pin and some more. You get into this mental rhythm, only to have it disturbed almost instantaneously by this 10 meter pass. You go through and bham, you see the other side of the hill, the valley, and more hills rising in the distance. The mind takes a snapshot to preserve and remember. I can still remember that scene. Very vividly. Any attempts, by me, to describe that one fraction of a moment in time will fall flat. I felt like I was riding on the clouds, not through, not with but, on them.
The roads on this side of the hills were considerably more narrow, more muddy and more damp, and consequently more slushy. It didn't help that the cow herds were getting back home, and the road was the natural thoroughfare for even our bovine friends, so we had no option by to drive through these herds. Around 10 kms from that breathtaking entry into the hills, we arrived at yet another fork in the road. One leading to Dattapeeta and other to Kemmangundi. If we thought that the roads couldn't possible get more narrow, we were in for a surprise. The road got more narrow and it more slushy. Perfecto! The incessant climb up Dattapeeta was the most scenic section of that day. The clouds below, the hint of precipitation and the steady drop in temperature.
Before we knew what was happening we were at the gates of Bababudangiri/Dattapeeta. The gate proclaimed "No alcohol. No meat." Possibly keeping in mind the religious sentiments of both the believing communities. There is a parking fee to enter the gates. We got in and asked for the caretaker. The caretaker politely told us we were not welcome to stay there.
"The rooms are old. There is no bedding. There is no water. There is no rug. There is no pillow. If that is ok, I can show you the rooms. Food is at this canteen."
We stayed a while at Bababudangiri. The road doesn't end here. There are higher places one can go. But the caretaker warned us that it was getting late and there was no point going up these places when it is dark, plus if it rains then we are on our own.
We were so bummed, we didn't even take a snap at this place. I don't recall what made us turn back so fast, but we did. The ride back to Chikmagalur was the best ghat ride ever. We were quite slow to climb, but on our way down - we flew! No kidding! We were in that 80-90 range at most points bar the hair pins. Narrow or wide, tar or mud, it didn't matter. But in our defense, we were always in control. There was no rash riding, and well... alls well that ends well!
It was almost 7pm by the time we got back to Chikmagalur and settled in at the hotel. Different story that we checked out in less than 3 hours. :P But, that story is not for this blog.
So, is Bababudangiri worth riding to? Yes! I know I will return some day, but with proper camping equipment :)
And so, without further ado, I shall dive right into the boring details ;)
We got to Chikmagalur at around 4 pm. We being - Jishnu, Kudz, Vance and yours truly. We had stopped earlier in the day at Halebeed and Belur, so we were pretty much already done for the day. Riding through the narrow roads of Chikmagalur is a little surreal. You see so many many Fiat Unos on the road. As if all the Unos of the world decided to congregate here. If you ever feel like buying a Fiat Uno, you know where to look! And if you thought Bangalore was a one-way traffic mess, you got to look at Chikmagalur.
But then, we saw that sign board on IG Road. Hang on. Lets rewind a bit, IG road? Before you remind me to fix an appointment with my optometrist, I did say IG road, and no, I did not mistake MG road for IG road. IG stands for Indra Gandhi. She was elected MP from the Chikmagalur constituency in 1978, and the folks here, they adore her, nay, love her. Of course! They even renamed their most important road, which incidentally is now a one way, in memory of their "Dear Leader". Freaky huh? Must be the only town to have its best road called IG road. Come one man, we are talking modern Indian tradition here. The best road in town has to be MG Road. Didn't they teach you that stuff in 6th Std. Civics?
And yes, Karkala was a part of that constituency back then. Something we like to remind Kudz every time we talk politics.
Back to the sign board. It said - "Kemmangundi - 40 kms". Just 40 kms away. Very tempting. But Kudz was, "Array yaar, ruk jathe hain yaar. Chai vai pee kay chalthay hain...". So, we halted at a road side joint just outside Chikmagalur.
40 kms, at the rate we were traveling, was doable in hmm.... well... half an hour. You see, we were between 100kmph - 110 kmph most of the time.... but well, thats another story... :)
You really don't feel like you are in the hills in Chikmagalur. Just FYI, it can get really hot in the summers. You can see the Western Ghats rising a little beyond the edge of the town. And we hurried on the plain smooth tarmac towards the rising range without a care in the world. The first zig-zag section on the road heralds the beginning of the ghats and the coffee estates.
A section where someone's bike would run out of fuel at 11.45 pm later that night. Muhuhaha.
A little after that is an almost unnoticeable fork in the road. You go straight ahead and you'll be in Shimoga sooner than you can list all the Indian Prime Ministers. That is not where you want to go. You want to go to Bababudangiri, so take that left turn and into the dark green canopy topped road. We visited this region in July, a month traditionally know for copious quantities of precipitation. Ignorance is indeed bliss.
.jpg)
At any clearing you could see these cloud covered hills, and a slight hint of drizzle. The sight was mesmerizing, as always. I have stopped carrying my camera with me on these trips. Don't ask why. And I am beginning to regret that decision. For what it is worth I take a few snapshots with my phone camera. Anyways, this section reminded me of the ride from Kalka to Shimla.We almost got run over by this crazy mo-fo in a black Indica. This bass-gital was taking blind curves like he was Louis Hamilton himself. Jackass drivers make life difficult, but one learns to live with such incidents ;) One better learn! hehe..
We stopped to take photos and put on the rain gear. As everywhere, the local people got interested in these bikers with strange riding gear. They milled around, and the questioning session began, "Where are you going?", "Where are you coming from?", "Why didn't you take the bus?"
These are hard working, simple folk from rural India. Picking coffee for a living. They are the backbone of the Indian Coffee industry. Picking coffee is back breaking work. Most coffee workers in Chikmagalur are migrant workers from North Karnataka and Andra Pradesh. They live in a world so different from ours. It is difficult for us to comprehend their life, and for them, ours. Yet in a weird way our lives are interdependent. We love our coffee, and they help grow and pick that coffee.
We asked them, if there was some place to stay nearby and they said, if you are headed towards Bababudangiri, then you'll find rooms there. For free. And that is when we decided to halt at Bababudangiri.
A few hundreds of meters later, the road deteriorated. First more gravel than asphalt. And then more mud than gravel, and then just mud with the odd hint of asphalt hidden a few millimeters under the mud. The heavy precipitation makes this region prone to mudslides.
.jpg)
We found that perfect spot where you can see the plains below. For as far as the eye can see. The silver oak hid in the late afternoon shadow of the hills we were climbing. They covered acres of coffee estates. It was the just the place where if you peed, then your pee would probably not touch the ground below. I think at least a 50 feet vertical drop, and then sloping at almost 70 degrees for god knows how many more 100's of feet below! Jishnu, the motographer in the group had a gala time. See image below..jpg)
The ride upto this point is fairly sedate, nothing too exotic that you'd want to write home about. What transpires next is what really makes this ride worthwhile. The road snakes up the hill. 500 meters of straight roads a hair pin bend and another 500 meters of straights and another hair pin and some more. You get into this mental rhythm, only to have it disturbed almost instantaneously by this 10 meter pass. You go through and bham, you see the other side of the hill, the valley, and more hills rising in the distance. The mind takes a snapshot to preserve and remember. I can still remember that scene. Very vividly. Any attempts, by me, to describe that one fraction of a moment in time will fall flat. I felt like I was riding on the clouds, not through, not with but, on them.
The roads on this side of the hills were considerably more narrow, more muddy and more damp, and consequently more slushy. It didn't help that the cow herds were getting back home, and the road was the natural thoroughfare for even our bovine friends, so we had no option by to drive through these herds. Around 10 kms from that breathtaking entry into the hills, we arrived at yet another fork in the road. One leading to Dattapeeta and other to Kemmangundi. If we thought that the roads couldn't possible get more narrow, we were in for a surprise. The road got more narrow and it more slushy. Perfecto! The incessant climb up Dattapeeta was the most scenic section of that day. The clouds below, the hint of precipitation and the steady drop in temperature.
Before we knew what was happening we were at the gates of Bababudangiri/Dattapeeta. The gate proclaimed "No alcohol. No meat." Possibly keeping in mind the religious sentiments of both the believing communities. There is a parking fee to enter the gates. We got in and asked for the caretaker. The caretaker politely told us we were not welcome to stay there.
"The rooms are old. There is no bedding. There is no water. There is no rug. There is no pillow. If that is ok, I can show you the rooms. Food is at this canteen."
We stayed a while at Bababudangiri. The road doesn't end here. There are higher places one can go. But the caretaker warned us that it was getting late and there was no point going up these places when it is dark, plus if it rains then we are on our own.
We were so bummed, we didn't even take a snap at this place. I don't recall what made us turn back so fast, but we did. The ride back to Chikmagalur was the best ghat ride ever. We were quite slow to climb, but on our way down - we flew! No kidding! We were in that 80-90 range at most points bar the hair pins. Narrow or wide, tar or mud, it didn't matter. But in our defense, we were always in control. There was no rash riding, and well... alls well that ends well!
It was almost 7pm by the time we got back to Chikmagalur and settled in at the hotel. Different story that we checked out in less than 3 hours. :P But, that story is not for this blog.
So, is Bababudangiri worth riding to? Yes! I know I will return some day, but with proper camping equipment :)
