Motorcycle as a mode of vacation never really occurred to me earlier. I have been part of self driven holidays before, but the idea of touring the mountains over a vacation on a motorcycle was completely revolutionary to me.
When you stop to think that a motorcycle is only a piece of moving machinery, think about this - its feline like eyes, predator like stance, a stealing thunder and its eagerness to prowl - only make it a glamorous living beast. A motorcycle is a culture; an expression of emotions; a showpiece of artsmanship and an icon of innovation - which has been moulded into metal. When you sit on the saddle of a running cycle with the tarmac whizzing past, remember that you are essentially bearing years of history, decades of ideas and experience between your legs.
And then comes out the best act of a motorcycle - it can race - fast and furious - like a leopard hunting down its prey.
Racing down the highways, at night, in the cold, with the headlights turned off, with the nose tip having frozen cold and jets of tears flowing out of the corners of the eyes due to the reflex from the cold – a motorcycle has always been associated with sheer acts of rebellion during the youth – but gradually it has turned into a premise of vacation, a whole new way to see life!
Back to the hotel room.
Its another bright morning.
On my way to the breakfast, at the door of the dining room, I am greeted by the owner. She was not even a day older since I last saw her, which was around a year back.
"Good Morning", she says, smiling and cheerful as she watered the orchids that dotted the resort almost everywhere.
"Good Morning to you too. How do you do?", I reply.
"I am good. Thanks for asking. And it is especially the weather. Just take a look at the valley, how beautiful it looks?",she says, watering the orchids.
A variety of wild orchids, flowers and vegetables appear every where. It is all so fragrant and colourful that I dont even need to look into the valley. I pull up a chair and open up the newspaper that am carrying.
The breakfast and dining area is a creation of wood and glass. There are floor to ceiling glass windows from where you can look out at the vegetable garden. Small cauliflowers, cabbages, broccoli, bell peppers peep out from the several corners of the garden and that looks fresh and soothing. In the dining table, a lavish spread has been laid out. Omelettes, milk, cornflakes, toasted bread, coffee, butter, jam feature in a myriad cups, plates and bowls.
There are a couple of activities high on my list of priorities today.
One, is to get the motorcycle checked.
Two, is to get the permits.
The idea is again to take a support vehicle for the trip of 3 days and 2 nights.
At the garage, he analyzes the problem. He manages to open up the brake shoe finally and shows me that the brake shoe has worn off completely – the culprit which was causing the clanking sound of metal on metal. The lack of the brake shoe surface meant that the movement of the motorcycle could not be arrested even after pressing the brake lever to the maximum limit. And the only solution to the problem seemed to buy a new brake shoe.
I head into one of the cafes at the mall. The mall is abuzz with shoppers and tourists. The vibrancy of the crowd of shoppers is a welcome change from the loneliness of the previous two days. Often you try to escape the mad rush of the city, but after you spend a few days in the wilderness, the same feelings haunt you down. That’s what city life does to you. The sight of so many people in colourful dresses flocking to the main centre of the town; women in fur lined over coats, high heeled shoes; men in jeans and smart leather jackets; couples walking, holding their hands; some seated in the old world styled iron chairs sipping coffee. There is so much of action everywhere you look at. At the distance I can see cars ambling along slowly downhill, shops doing brisk business. All in all a very colourful and energetic setting.
I take a seat in the overhanging balcony of a cafe and have a cup of coffee and donuts. In between the sips of coffee I make some phone calls back home. A few magazines have been laid out on the table. The feeling of freshness that I had on the first day, is stronger now and there is a feeling that the journey will reach its tempo over the coming few days.
I meet Dorjee, who will arrange the permits for the North Sikkim trip, the next day.We work out the formalities.
The dining area is very quite that night. Even the sound of spoon and fork seems to reverberate against the wooden walls. Food is light: steamed vegetables fresh from the garden, dal, rice, roti and chicken with vegetables; and the dinner is quick eaten. I walk around for a while and then retire back to my room and go to sleep.
In the sleep, the ice and boulders slip into my thoughts at times, but by now, the dice has been rolled and there was no looking back. Some of the simulated rides which I had envisaged earlier, flip in and out. And an eager anticipation builds through the night. I wake up only once that night, but then the ride calculations and fears play too much in the mind. I try to beat the thoughts, knowing fully well that there is no antidote to a clear head for the long day ahead.
When you stop to think that a motorcycle is only a piece of moving machinery, think about this - its feline like eyes, predator like stance, a stealing thunder and its eagerness to prowl - only make it a glamorous living beast. A motorcycle is a culture; an expression of emotions; a showpiece of artsmanship and an icon of innovation - which has been moulded into metal. When you sit on the saddle of a running cycle with the tarmac whizzing past, remember that you are essentially bearing years of history, decades of ideas and experience between your legs.
And then comes out the best act of a motorcycle - it can race - fast and furious - like a leopard hunting down its prey.
Racing down the highways, at night, in the cold, with the headlights turned off, with the nose tip having frozen cold and jets of tears flowing out of the corners of the eyes due to the reflex from the cold – a motorcycle has always been associated with sheer acts of rebellion during the youth – but gradually it has turned into a premise of vacation, a whole new way to see life!
Back to the hotel room.
Its another bright morning.
On my way to the breakfast, at the door of the dining room, I am greeted by the owner. She was not even a day older since I last saw her, which was around a year back.
"Good Morning", she says, smiling and cheerful as she watered the orchids that dotted the resort almost everywhere.
"Good Morning to you too. How do you do?", I reply.
"I am good. Thanks for asking. And it is especially the weather. Just take a look at the valley, how beautiful it looks?",she says, watering the orchids.
A variety of wild orchids, flowers and vegetables appear every where. It is all so fragrant and colourful that I dont even need to look into the valley. I pull up a chair and open up the newspaper that am carrying.
The breakfast and dining area is a creation of wood and glass. There are floor to ceiling glass windows from where you can look out at the vegetable garden. Small cauliflowers, cabbages, broccoli, bell peppers peep out from the several corners of the garden and that looks fresh and soothing. In the dining table, a lavish spread has been laid out. Omelettes, milk, cornflakes, toasted bread, coffee, butter, jam feature in a myriad cups, plates and bowls.
There are a couple of activities high on my list of priorities today.
One, is to get the motorcycle checked.
Two, is to get the permits.
The idea is again to take a support vehicle for the trip of 3 days and 2 nights.
At the garage, he analyzes the problem. He manages to open up the brake shoe finally and shows me that the brake shoe has worn off completely – the culprit which was causing the clanking sound of metal on metal. The lack of the brake shoe surface meant that the movement of the motorcycle could not be arrested even after pressing the brake lever to the maximum limit. And the only solution to the problem seemed to buy a new brake shoe.
I head into one of the cafes at the mall. The mall is abuzz with shoppers and tourists. The vibrancy of the crowd of shoppers is a welcome change from the loneliness of the previous two days. Often you try to escape the mad rush of the city, but after you spend a few days in the wilderness, the same feelings haunt you down. That’s what city life does to you. The sight of so many people in colourful dresses flocking to the main centre of the town; women in fur lined over coats, high heeled shoes; men in jeans and smart leather jackets; couples walking, holding their hands; some seated in the old world styled iron chairs sipping coffee. There is so much of action everywhere you look at. At the distance I can see cars ambling along slowly downhill, shops doing brisk business. All in all a very colourful and energetic setting.
I take a seat in the overhanging balcony of a cafe and have a cup of coffee and donuts. In between the sips of coffee I make some phone calls back home. A few magazines have been laid out on the table. The feeling of freshness that I had on the first day, is stronger now and there is a feeling that the journey will reach its tempo over the coming few days.
I meet Dorjee, who will arrange the permits for the North Sikkim trip, the next day.We work out the formalities.
The dining area is very quite that night. Even the sound of spoon and fork seems to reverberate against the wooden walls. Food is light: steamed vegetables fresh from the garden, dal, rice, roti and chicken with vegetables; and the dinner is quick eaten. I walk around for a while and then retire back to my room and go to sleep.
In the sleep, the ice and boulders slip into my thoughts at times, but by now, the dice has been rolled and there was no looking back. Some of the simulated rides which I had envisaged earlier, flip in and out. And an eager anticipation builds through the night. I wake up only once that night, but then the ride calculations and fears play too much in the mind. I try to beat the thoughts, knowing fully well that there is no antidote to a clear head for the long day ahead.
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