Ride to Belagavi.

I led a ride to Belagavi and back (to Pune) with my motorcycling club. Bikers’ Creed India, for lunch at the famous Niyaaz today. This is an account of that ride.

Firstly, here’s BattleCat and I, cruising along on the beautiful Karnataka roads last weekend, enjoying the smooth blacktop.

I used to wonder why we don’t have roads like this in Maharashtra. But a friend in the business of infrastructure explained how Maharashtra, always having been one of the more developed and industrial states from the start (even when it was Bombay), has roads that are built back then (when even these were supposedly quite advanced and beautiful), and therefore is having legacy issues, while other adjoining states (not Gujarat though) have newly laid roads, and hence the availability of land and the vision & planning that went into those would most certainly make for roads that look and feel better. Given some time, Maharashtra should catch up. Let’s hope he is right. Because I could go on all day on these, to be honest!

Then, here’s all of us enjoying the brilliant food at Niyaaz in Belagavi.

Mutton, chicken, beef, rice, wheat, ghee, butter, onions, chillis, lime, spices, motorcycles, friends, fun, all of this topped by milk, cream, and sugar, to make sure that every sensory organ is catered for!

And finally, home. Here’s what I feel:

My third lead at Bikers’ Creed. 7 experienced riders (of which, the most passionate one a 67yo). 7 powerful bikes. 16 hours of hard riding door to door. 778km. About 30 litres of petrol. Almost non-stop riding (bar tea and toilet breaks). Chatty tea sellers. A taskmaster for a Ride Marshal. A supremely patient Sweep. An Energizer Bunny for RP. Smooth tarmacs with a few twisties thrown in for fun. A brilliant kabab & biryani lunch at an iconic place. A quick turnaround and a speedy ride back. Beautiful, beautiful roads. Natural beauty that only someone with Sahyadri in his blood can appreciate. A scary high-speed night run on the last stretch over internal roads and perhaps the steepest hairpin bends south of Kela, all with a bad visor and another rider with night blindness, my phone out of battery, and his phone barely visible to him. Spotting a petrol pump when both our bikes were on fumes. Missed turns. Off roads. Broken roads. Stray dogs. Mad dog alphas. 120kmph. Starry night. Home in time for dinner. A hot shower. Silk on skin. Cold beer in hand. And a copy of ‘Maus‘, which lies unread but full of promise on the night table. That’s how you do a weekend.