Author: Pranav Negandhi

At Belgaum, Anvith had mentioned of people having made several visits to Hampi and still discovering something new and interesting to see. The ruins of the old Vijayanagara capital are spread over such a large expanse, that it is impossible to see everything and do it justice in a two-day trip. With settlements dating back to 2000 years ago being found here, this is not surprising at all. The Ramayana too has mentions of Kishkindha, the mythological capital of the monkey kings Vali and Sugriva, and Matanga Hill, both of which are located here. Anjanagiri Hill nearby is supposed to have been the birthplace of Hanuman.

Being on our first trip here, we decided to not expect much by way of sense or structure, and just take things as they come. We hired a guide near the Sasivekalu Ganesh Temple for Rs. 600 for half a day. In hindsight, this was very, very steep, especially considering that April to September is the off season. You’re better off going all the way up to the tourist information office near the Virupaksha Temple ahead and hiring a guide from there. Do carry a map with you, else buy a cheap guide book (Rs. 20) from the local vendors. They also sell a more expensive (Rs. 100) guide book, purportedly published by the ASI, with much better print quality and colour photographs. But this book has no local map of the ruins themselves. I found this rather pointless since all monuments already have detailed write-ups put up on the sign boards outside. It is recommended to either carry your own map with the points of interest marked, or to buy the cheaper book with the map.

The guides break up the place into two major sections – the religious sites and the royal monuments. Religious sites consist of the Hemakuta Hill, Virupaksha Temple, Hampi Bazar, Matanga Hill, Kodanda Rama Temple, Achyutraya Temple and several other smaller sites, culminating at the Vittala Temple. If you’re up for a boat ride, a coracle can take you across the Tungabhadra River to see the Hanuman Temple on Anjanagiri Hill. I declined because of my general dislike for travelling on any surface other than solid ground. Quotes began at Rs. 150 per person, and can go substantially lower depending on your bargaining skills. Make brazen and shameless counter offers.

The royal enclosure falls on the other side of the main approach road to Hampi. This consists of the Krishna Temple, the underground Shiva Temple, Hazara Rama Temple, the Zenana, elephant stables and several other smaller sites. This route also ends at the Vittala Temple, which is pretty much the best preserved of the entire lot of monuments in Hampi. We visited the religious centre on our first day here, covering the entire portion up to the Vittala Temple by foot with the guide.

The convenience of having your own vehicle, especially a small fuel-powered moped or motorcycle, is unmatched. We saw seweral foreign tourists on rental mopeds. Indian visitors generally have their own vehicles or rent autorickshaws. Some walk. I did not see any obviously touristy-looking Indians on rental mopeds, although they are very common with the locals. Cars are fine, but they cannot go into narrow tracks which are common in the religious centre. If you don’t mind riding in the heat, you can rent a bicycle. We only saw one tourist on a rental bicycle in Hampi for this reason. Autorickshaws are also available if you prefer, but they are expensive. In any case, expect to do a lot of walking. Even with a motor vehicle to travel between different sites, most of the palaces and temple complexes are very large from within. On our first day, we walked from Hemakuta Hill all the way up to the Vittala Temple, back to Hampi Bazar for lunch in the afternoon, and then back again to Vittala Temple to take photographs in the mellow evening light. Then we walked back to the parking lot near Sasivekalu Ganesh Temple, which added up to at least 8-10 kilometres in all.

Under the Mango Tree

Food was a big problem the evening before at Hospet. Even at Hampi, lunch was average at best. The evening meal suddenly became much better, due to the chance mention of our guide of a restaurant called Mango Tree. Situated off the main access road, you can see a sign board to the restaurant at a junction half a kilometre from the Sasivekalu Ganesh Temple parking lot. Watch out for a large arch on the right hand side as you ride on your way back. Turn right here and pass through a small village until you reach the end of the road. A downhill slope on the right over paved stones takes you to what seemed like a gated private estate or farm. Cars must be parked outside the gate, but a smaller gate at the side lets bikes inside. Park near the gate and walk a short distance through banana plantations to the restaurant. Built on the banks of the river, the stepped terraces make for a very pleasant and private seating area. While they do serve continental food, their spicy local delicacies are to die for. Especially high on the list are the coconut curry and a variety of “parotas“ – a house specialty pie with different types of stuffing such as potatoes, cheese or fruit.

The ride back to Hospet was uneventful. The convenience of having a motorcycle was especially evident again, as we rode through the dark night. Had we been in an autorickshaw or hampered by bus schedules, the evening would have been on a much tighter leash.

Hampi itself is a small village without significant facilities. Most tourist guides recommend staying at Hospet instead, which is about 13 kilometres away, and as an industrial city, offers a significantly improved urban infrastructure than Hampi. Both places fall in the Bellary district of Karnataka state. It lies about 250 kilometres from Belgaum.

We left at around 7 am from Belgaum, later by an hour than planned. We were still quite tired and had to yet catch up with sleep. Good roads with little traffic and wind, meant we were able to reach Hubli (100 kilometres) by 9 am. Our original plan consisted of stopping at Kittur to see the fort there. But we had poor reviews from Anvith about the condition of the fort, because of which we preferred to take our chances with the temples at Lakkundi instead. This was a choice we wouldn’t regret.

The road to Hospet diverges from the Bangalore highway after Hubli. Surface conditions are significantly worse on SH 67 than the national highway, along with narrower roads. But sparse traffic and plenty of tree cover to break the wind allowed for good speeds. The only drawback was the complete absence of traveller facilities – food and toilets were both conspicuously absent. By the time we reached Gadag, we were starving and completely drained. I was hoping to find at least a decent restaurant in Gadag, the last major town till Hospet. But nothing worthwhile turned up there either. A lonely dhaba a few kilometres after Gadag turned out to be our last option. The kitchen did not offer anything substantial other than rice, which was palatable, but only barely. It did provide enough sustenance to last until Hospet, at least, which was much more than one could ask out there.

The kilometres began to melt again until Lakkundi.

Lakkundi – Big Things in a Small Package

Most people we spoke to had never heard of Lakkundi, a tiny village between Gadag and Hospet. Archeological resources point out as many as 50 temples, 100 stepped wells and several inscriptions of various vintages within its vicinity. Its insignificant size belies the archeological and cultural significance it holds. Chalukyas and Hoysalas once held this village as part of their empire.

The Kasivisvesvara Temple at Lakkundi is considered a pinnacle of the Kalyani Chalukya architectural style. It is an important link between the early Chalukya style, seen at Badami, and Hoysala architecture who immediately followed the Chalukya empire. One is easily captured right at the doorway itself, by the elaborate nine-layered mouldings of the doorway frame and an intricate carving in relief of Gajalakshmi. Opposite to the main entrace lies a shrine to Surya, the Sun god.

The Brahma Jinalaya is an interesting temple which was originally consecerated as a Jain basadi by queen Attimabe, wife of a local chieftain called Nagadeva. It is built out of chloric schist, which is more workable for detailed carvings compared to sandstone which was otherwise popular in this region. The difference in intricacy and finishing is noticeable.

According to the description board put up by the ASI outside, the temple was once used to worship a larger idol of an unknown tirthankara. Its name probably originates from either the Brahma idol inside the sanctum, or from the approval the temple received from the Brahmanas of Lokkigundi.

The last site that we had time to visit at Lakkundi was the Nanneswara Temple, just opposite the Kasivisvesvara Temple. It is believed to have been built as a prototype to the much more elaborately detailed Kasivisvesvara Temple.

To Hospet!

We spent a good two hours in just these three sites at Lakkundi. If you have time, guide books recommend visiting the Manikeshwara Temple and stepped tank here. Since it was past 3 pm, we preferred to give these two a pass and move onwards. The road continued to remain mostly featureless other than vast open plains and fields until we reached Koppal and Ginigera. The landscape suddenly was strewn with large boulders, a sign that we were nearing Hospet and Hampi.

The road is currently being rebuilt from the junction of SH 67 and NH 13 all the way up to Hospet, which caused a lot of trouble. The dust and uneven surface are the least of worries. One also has to deal with rash driving between laden construction vehicles and frequent detours. To make matters worse, repairs were also ongoing at College Road, a major thoroughfare in the city of Hospet. In all, the last 20 kilometres took us close to an hour to cover. After a week of honing my handling skills on bad roads, I think I might be able to do it much faster.

At Hospet, we were stopped by local traffic police. The officer demanded my license, which was in postal transit from the Maharashtra RTO office at the time of leaving from Pune. I had a reciept in lieu of the licence, which pissed off the officer. He demanded to see the rest of the vehicle documentation, which I promptly presented for inspection. He still seemed to have a grudge about the missing license, but quickly backed out when I offered to call the Maharashtra RTO office to clarify the matter. As suggested by forum members from Bike Nomads, the key is confidence. Having everything else in order also helps. The fear of having to deal with inter-state bureaucracy also probably a big deterrent.

Finding Hotel Karthik was a bit of a problem due to the construction activity on College Road and late hour. And the rooms and food were a bit of a disappointment. Having nothing better to do, we turned in early.

We woke up on time for a change, although we were still quite fatigued by yesterday’s long ride. Anvith called at 5:15 sharp. He was at the hotel gates. We loaded up some essentials and leftover snacks from the day before, and piled up outside the gates.

Part I – Yellurgarh and Nandgad

We followed him through empty streets of Belgaum until we were out of the city and in the countryside. It didn’t take long either. While the city roads were quite manageable, the surface turned to hell in the countryside. The Impulse handled it all very well, while the Thunderbird, with its lazy geometry and loaded with the pillion, felt like an ox. We reached Yellurgarh an hour since leaving the hotel room. Thankfully, the last climb up to the fort gates was made up of excellent tarmac. Bad roads were forgiven for the experience of leaning Anna through those curves.

We parked outside the fort gates and hiked the short distance up. The light was good and there was a slight nip in the air. After walking around the rather small premises, we sat down for breakfast in the morning light. Anvith played the perfect host, fishing out coffee, bread, jam and peanut chutney from his bag. Our contribution of a solitary pack of biscuits looked insignificant in comparison.

After breakfast we headed towards Nandgad, to see the church there. Twelve kilometres of beautifully shaded and well made road melted away in no time. Being early, traffic was sparse and we could even stop for a few photographs along the way. After crossing Nandgad village, the road turned bad again, much worse than what I had to suffer in the morning. The Thunderbird kept slipping in the loose gravel and stones. Target fixation is a bitch. My brain frequently interpreted “Don’t look at that rock!” as “Don’t look at that rock!”. And any rider can guess about what my eyes would be fixed upon. I finally gave up about two hundred metres before the bottom of the climb and parked. Anvith, eager to test out his new off-roader, took it higher up, while we followed on foot.

The short climb to the top was only a bit difficult because we were loaded down in the heat by my heavy riding jacket and two helmets. The church itself was pretty unique, dedicated as it was to the Way of the Cross. Interestingly, the church also maintains their own website. Climbing down was easier, though the sun still beat down mercilessly. After some dithering for photos and refreshments, we split up back again at Belgaum. We were to meet again at 4 for a ride to Belgaum Fort and lake.

Part II – Belgaum Fort and Lake

The rains played spoilsport again by pouring down for exactly an hour at 4. Anvith left from his place when it finally stopped and showed up 10 minutes later and we rode off through the cool evening air to Belgaum Fort.

The fort has a history stretching back to the 13th century. It’s earliest construction was undertaken by a king called Jaya Raya. Over the years, it has gone through several extensions and additions under the Rashtrakutas, kings of Vijayanagar (or Hampi), Sultans of Bijapur, Marathas and finally, the British. It is currently controlled by the Belgaum Cantonment Board and houses some wings of the defence forces. It is open to the public, however, due in no small part to the presence of several temples and mosques inside the fort. Being short on time, we only managed to check out the Kamal Basadi Jain temple, dedicated to the twenty second Tirthankara, Neminath. Photography is prohibited inside the fort premises, which is a pity because this temple has some really beautiful architecture.

This was followed by a short walk around the Belgaum Lake nearby. Being late in the evening, we were not able to walk around the entire circumference, which goes as much as 2-3 kilometres. The evening ended with dinner at the restaurant at our hotel, followed by some more ice cream from Aditya’s. Thanks to Anvith, this leg of the trip went very, very well. While we are culture buffs, it was his incessant chatter and interesting quips that made the trip real fun. We took with us fond memories.

The night before we were to leave turned out to last longer than I had anticipated, in spite of my best efforts to get things done on time. Work and packing were taking a toll on my already stretched nerves. Which is why when I finally hit the sack at 1 am, I knew there was no way I’d be getting up on time again to ride out at 6. Being delayed turned out to be a trend through the rest of the journey, one which I would like to avoid in future trips. Morning hours are the best to ride in. Once past 11 am in peak summer, the heat takes a significant toll on strength and sanity.

We both staggered out of bed at 7 and stepped out of the house close to two hours later. Strapping down the luggage took a few more minutes before we were out on our greatest adventure yet. It was 8:45 am. We had missed the best time to travel during the day. At this point, I was only interested in reaching Belgaum safe before nightfall.

Being close to peak hours, the traffic had already become thick throughout Pune city limits, in spite of us being on the highway. It thinned out a bit around Katraj flyover and Jhambulwadi lake, before returning with a vengeance after Nasrapur. An accident between a car and a truck around Kapurhol made things worse. The heat was getting to me and I had given up all hope of ever shifting out of the Thunderbird’s ever versatile gear 3. We too became unwilling participants in a minor bump and graze when some nut on a bike hit us from behind at a toll booth.

After Shirwal, traffic began to thin out again up to the Khambatki ghat climb. There too, most of the traffic was caused by a single multi-axle truck climbing up hill on the narrow incline. Typical of this hour, many cagers were eager to get past the big vehicle and took a lot of needless risks in the process like driving into the rough and boulder-strewn shoulder. Being hesitant to take risks that could result in us turning into road pizza so early in the journey, I took the safer option to trail at a safe distance until cleared to pass by the driver. Roads became empty again until the end of the ghat at the other side. Thankfully most of the cagers turned off at the Surur junction towards Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar.

We would soon be entering Kolhapur district, which possibly has the worst ratio of dickbag drivers to rational ones in all the destinations we covered through this trip. Even the famed maniac bus drivers from Karnataka would turn white in the face of a white SUV bearing a registration plate with numbers MH-09 searing down towards them. The only physics applicable in district Kolhapur is horse-power. Friction, trajectories and solid body collisions needn’t be taught in schools, because they don’t work here any more (until a collision actually occurs, that is). And what’s with the obsession with white cars?

The road was mostly clear through the next few towns all the way till a petrol pump 30 kms out of Kolhapur. Roads were good enough to let Anna effortlessly pull along at 80. We stopped for lunch and cool off from the heat for a bit here. The worst of the heat was on the wane at around 2:00 pm. But the relief of food and jugs of water was very welcome. We hit the road an hour later, hoping to wing it to Belgaum by 5 pm.

Past Kolhapur, the landscape gave way to much more open spaces and fewer trees and structures to break the wind. Very strong crosswinds slowed us down to speeds of 50 kilometres an hour. The going was tough, but I persisted. This trip was a very important lesson for me in bike handling skills in varied conditions. And my education had begun with a really difficult course. It took an hour to get past the border of Maharashtra and Karnataka into Nipani. The landscape was still open, but the quality of the roads changed dramatically. Whatever problems Karnataka might have, they sure know how to build good surfaces for their major highways.

Just outside of Nipani, we stopped at a Jain shrine where Ami wanted to visit. While we were there, the clouds burst in a shower of spontanteity. At first I thought it was a light drizzle, but it quickly escalated into a full-blown downpour. We took shelter inside a school building nearby, closed for summer. It rained for more than an hour with visibility dropping down to as little as 200 metres. I wasn’t keen on riding out in such weather, so we stayed put and idled away the time in banter. While the weather was a downer, time flew in good conversation and jokes.

We mounted up again after the rain slowed down and rode on gingerly through the drizzle and wet roads. The rain had ceased completely a little distance away, although we could see plenty of storm activity in the distance. I rushed through all my mental notes about riding in the rain, especially during electric storms. I was not sure about the risks of sitting on a large metallic object on broad, open roads with the absence of tree cover. It started raining again not long after but we soldiered on this time at slower pace. We were out of the rain again in a few minutes. It continued to pour down intermittently throughout the rest of the ride as we passed in and out of cloud patches. The ride was uneventful after this, with the sole aim now being getting off the highway before darkness set in.

After an hour or so, we finally crossed the Hindalco Club outside Belgaum city. Finding the hotel and checking in was a breeze. Anvith arrived in the evening with his new Impulse. The evening was topped off with plenty of talk with him over delicious ice cream from Aditya’s, a local dairy brand. Hot topics of discussion were the day’s ride, his new bike, nearby places of interest, and life in Belgaum in general. Plans were made to meet at 5:30 am the next day for a ride to Yellurgarh fort.

Every trip I’ve ever undertaken has been formulated around the idea of making the journey the destination. It is the most natural way to travel. Why anybody would want to miss out on the sights between the origin and destination of a journey is beyond me, especially when you consider that a typical vacation requires a significant amount of time to be spent in travelling. But this adage has never rung truer for me than on this tour, where I would be spending many hours of the day at the helm, directing the entire journey.

This was a significant milestone for me in many ways. It was my first time travelling long distances in a vehicle of my own over many days. I have done a few trips to nearby destinations, spanning at most a day or so on my bikes before. But nothing ever came close to this one. Being the first person in the family with a personal vehicle in three generations meant there was no resource of childhood road trip experiences to draw from. It was just me planning my own trip, finding my own way and correcting mistakes as they were made.

Finally, motorcycle touring has been on my radar for the longest amount of time. For those who already ride bikes, this needs no explanation. For those who don’t or are afraid of bikes, the best way to understand the feeling is to mount saddle and hit the road. This is a pure form of travel which really makes the journey come alive. The destination ceases to be a goal as you soak in the experiences along the way. While I have never driven a car, my negligible experience of travelling as a passenger in one was, to put it mildly, meh. I would much rather brave the elements and the dust than travel in antiseptic insulation from the worst that nature can unleash. In my opinion, if you do not reach your destination dusty and soaked in sweat, you’re doing it wrong.