Race to Glory

NEVER SAY DIE


Montezuma Creek, Utah, 4,456 ft elevation, 834 miles done, Time Station 13.

— Calling for rider 558.
— Srinivas Gokulnath?
— That's right. We want to report arrival at TS 13, Montezuma Creek.
— OK. But you're almost out of cut-off time for Durango. Do you want to continue?
— Of course we will. The rider will come back strong for sure.
— Great! Here goes your confirmation number...

Conviction. Faith in the rider, and in ourselves. We all were ready for the challenge. The challenge was to reach Srini to Durango, CO, challenge to help him climb the Rocky Mountains after a gruelling test in Arizona, challenge to see him on the finish line in Annapolis. He did it. We did it all. 


TESTING TIMES


The path was not easy, neither was it meant to be. Forget racing, it takes sheer gut just to share the Oceanside pier with best of the endurance cyclists in the world. Srini did it. He shared the space earlier too, in 2016. But his preparations were not a great one in the summer of 2016. This year, he came back with proper planning and tools to execute that. However great the race plan is, RAAM (Race Across America) will test you — through the desert, above the mountains, along the great rivers, even on the plains and undulating terrain. It will throw a spanner of 110°F when you are burning the rubber in Arizona, it will send you over the mountain passes even when your tired muscles asking for rest, it will welcome you with a tropical storm while you think the ride was steadier in the plains of Kansas. The misery is endless for the racer. 

The misery started the earlier night, shortly after crossing Prescott, AZ. Srini was not feeling well with chilly winds in Prescott National Forest making conditions difficult for him. We had to slap instant hot packs on him. Improvement was visible. From Potato Patch, the highest point in Haywood Canyon at 7,032 ft, Srini gained momentum till Cottonwood through the winding lanes and bylanes of copper mining town, Jerome. The daytime temperature on way from Parker to Salome — about 14 hours earlier — was sort of teaser for the strong cyclist with an otherwise frail frame battling heat.


GEAR SHIFT


As one of his crew members, my job was that of a feeder. For the uninitiated, a feeder in the team has to take care of a rider's nutrition and hydration needs while keeping a tab on him regularly. Undoubtedly, it is a key job, and i was awarded a double shift for bringing Srini back on the track the previous night. Initially, i was put on night shift because of my "night owl" nature! However, during the shift change a few miles off Happy Jack Ranger on way to Flagstaff, our crew chief, Chris, thought if i can feed Srini better to take him to Flagstaff and beyond. I was elated at the development although it would mean a 24-hour shift that day for me! But for Srini, everyone was ready to sacrifice. 

At 102.9 miles, Camp Verde to Flagstaff, AZ, is the longest distance between two time stations in RAAM. After a 2-hour sleep in the follow vehicle, Srini started his ride to Flagstaff along the scenic Mormon and Mary lakes. The pain of crewing, as opposed to common perception, is you barely have time to enjoy natural or architectural beauty as your focus is always on the racer. Not only the lakes, the crew did not have time to take a closer look at natural monuments like the Mexican Hat. Crewing for 12 days is both physically and mentally tough. 

I was fortunate though to have a 30-minute walk through the town of Trinidad, CO, while searching supplements for Srini, as he was some 10 miles away from the time station. And, the unfortunate part was that being Sunday morning, most of the town's halls and museums were closed! All that i could see an old steam road-roller next to the last steam engine used to ferry coal in the 1970s on the Purgatoire river near Safeway grocery store. No sooner had Srini reached than we ferried him fast to a Super 8 motel in the town for his sleep break.


MOTEL MATTERS


Super 8, Quality Inn, Comfort Inn and the likes became our home for the fortnight that we spent out of bags for Srini's successful RAAM attempt. We had to check in and check out of at least 20 such hotels/motels on our journey from California to Maryland. In Brawley, CA, where we stayed the first day as rest before midnight changeover the motel was run by a Gujarati entrepreneur, Abhay ji. We found another Indian, Deepak ji, who took the Motel 6 franchise in El Dorado, Kansas. Over a cup of tea with namkeen during breakfast, he came up with an interesting fact that Indians, especially Gujaratis, enjoy most of the ownership of motels in Kansas and neighbouring states. Maybe true, might not. 

Motels are not meant for serving breakfast unlike the hotels where we had sumptuous complimentary meal before driving miles to catch Srini. Indeed, breakfast was the major meal for the day crew who had no other option but to pick up a piece of burger or Starbucks coffee on the go till midnight. During crew changeover in midnight, we used to exchange several stuff — car keys (once Chris went off with his car key in a hurry to follow Srini in Effingham and i had to walk back several miles with Yin, who had a duplicate key), bags with essentials from errand vehicle, and also WiFi password of the hotel/motel! Also, the night crew used to collect and keep the breakfast coupons at the rooms. And, we used to lose it also! Quality Inn in Tuba City, AZ, offered us breakfast tokens of $7 each but in a you-know-what moment, i realised i would go hungry in an hour whatever little they offered. In the car, i had to search for the peanuts jar!!


LIFE EXTRAORDINARY


So, what's the intrinsic relation between crew life and rider life? Whatever little i've realised in those 15 days, is that both are made for each other, particularly for round-the-clock success in the race. Why round-the-clock? Because the RAAM clock never stops unlike Le Tour de France or Giro d'Italia or other stage races. The crew has to operate 24 hours much like the rider. Even when the rider takes a sleep break, we had to rush to Walmart or any other store to stock our essentials, which may include a whole roasted chicken too! Yes, that was essential — for the rider and the crew. The 11-member team that we had was always with Srini to support him 288 hours (though he made it in less than 283 hours). 


Once out of Trinidad, CO, the terrain changed to more of rolling. Our support too was leapfrog in nature with Srini being visible for miles. Sometimes the crew were so engrossed in Srini's movement and on-the-run requirements that we even forgot to fill gas in the follow vehicle. In one such scary situation, we were running out of petrol with darkness engulfing the road, and the maize fields around us. We had just crossed Kim, CO, TS 21, and realised we would soon be in trouble with the fuel gauge being almost horizontal. Open map, search "gas station". No help. The nearest, and only, one in Kim was closed by then; the next one would be in Springfield, some 30 miles away. We took a calculated risk, and asked the errand van to take over as follow. Then began Yin's sprint on the wheels; we reached Springfield just in the nick of time! 

In Springfield, we put up at Stage Stop Hotel — a unique one with its heritage building and wooden interiors, walls adorning trophies yet offering 24x7 coffee at its tiny lobby at 1.30 in the night! Srini was to continue to Pratt, KS, that night to compensate the miles he had lost earlier in the race. Days Inn, the hotel we chose to get Srini sleep in the afternoon, was next to Walmart, the time station. While Srini went to sleep after having oatmeal and eggs prepared by Prafulla, we pounced on chicken! Kansas gave Srini the much-needed boost to regain confidence, which would propel him to Missouri. The day crew had a refreshing swimming session at Comfort Inn, West Alton, MO, as Srini went to a deep slumber.


BACK IN RACE


Effingham, IL, will be a time station Srini will remember forever, as he caught up with his rivals for the first time to get a taste of the race. As we approached the town well past midnight, Srini suddenly got energetic seeing rider Joe Frank in competitive distance. He not only overtook him but also went ahead of fellow Indian Amit Samarth for the first time in the race. At one point, Amit was 160 miles ahead of Srini in the first couple of days. After Effingham, when i met Srini the next day in Columbus, IN, fatigue was writ large on his body but he was bubbling with energy. Dhanasekar, as is his usual practice, took Srini to his room in La Quinta Inn and Suites for a massage before sleep. For the first time in the race, we faced rain in Columbus, which however did not deter us to take a dip in the pool! 

The rain and tropical storm Cindy became stronger as we moved eastward. Srini fought a battle that no one would have imagined — the battle against nature to win the battle of nerve. As we took the country roads through Ohio, the storm seems harder but we had almost zero accident-free ride till Lebanon, OH, where we changed the crew shift about midnight. Aided by music that we set up using Bluetooth sharing with car-roof speakers, Srini rode through the night till Athens,OH, where we set up a room for his sleep break at Fairfield Inn and Suites by Marriott even as rains lashed it hard on the road. 

Music was a great encouragement for Srini, who had a long playlist on his cellphone for RAAM only. The ultra cyclist loves divine spiritual music than the popular Hindi or Telugu or Kannada numbers. It was fun to see him dancing to the beats of Kuttu songs while riding uphill. But when he wanted to really concentrate, he asked us to switch to Tibetan-Buddhist hymns or even the Gayatri mantra. RAAM has been pure meditation for him, for months, if not years. The divine practice reflected on the road, especially when the going was tough. In one funny moment, Srini asked me to sing on cardo also, as he wanted some change in music!


LAST SPRINT


Srini may remember this race for several reasons but an evening will be etched in my memory forever. As we figured out later that Srini was the only rider in this year's RAAM who pulled off a negative split from Pratt — and it's very rare indeed. Barring the figures, which we could not calculate always during the race, the last evening was phenomenal. It all started after Srini's 1.45-hour sleep break — what was supposed to be a quick nap of 30 minutes — in La Vale, MD, a few miles before Cumberland, MD, time station. Srini woke up fast to a post-Cindy clear afternoon. Asked about some racers he was competing with that stage. Then he started pedalling towards Rouzerville, PA. While taking a mandatory detour through Big Cove Tannery Road, he was feeling sleepy again. Sleep deprivation is a key factor that every RAAM rider has to fight with. We let Srini take a power nap of 5 minutes before McConnellsburg town too. 

It did not help much. But what helped remarkably was the mention of one particular racer that the guy is just 6 miles ahead of him. Aided by steep downhill, Srini zoomed past everything on his way yet the rider was elusive. Crew chief Chris came up with a brilliant idea — give him coffee to ward off sleep and to boost instant energy too. Just ahead of Rouzerville, the night crew waited with hot coffee that Srini had it in one go. Also began howling on cardo that Srini cannot just escape RAAM this time. Although by that time we knew Srini could finish the race but whether he would be the first solo Indian to complete it or not was up to him. It apparently gave him the kick. 


When we reached Hanover, PA, around 2.30 am, the riders Srini was racing were nowhere, as everyone has been beaten on the track by him. I still don't know what happened to him and how he managed that speed after 275 hours of riding almost 3,000 miles but that sprint is simply unforgettable. In fact, the RAAM official manning time station 51 in Hanover told me jokingly, "I think Srini should go for urine test; is he on drugs?" I replied, "The only drug he has in his brain, not blood or urine, is RAAM finish line."


FINISH LINE


The long shadows of the morning greeted us in Mount Airy, MD, for a final check on his penalty status. No, we were lucky else Srini had to serve penalty hours at the scenic time station, 52, located off the Mount Airy Bike Shop. A quick massage by Dhanasekar on a yoga mat rejuvenated Srini like a champ. He was ready to finish the race in style. The next time station at Odenton, MD, was completed like a leopard on prey. Astonished we were seeing him on the road. During a short uphill i thought to run with him as final push but Srini told me: "Arrey! You cannot keep pace with me now!" True that was. 


Rams Head Roadhouse is a small tavern with beer and burgers. The Sunday morning when we drove early to welcome Srini there had hardly any people there. Even regular patrons were on the road, or on the seating arena outside the restaurant, to greet Srini. It's also the "timing line" of RAAM. A rider has to report there and s/he would be escorted to the finish line in Annapolis City Dock; for this escort, 26 minutes are added to the time of solo finishers. We were really ecstatic to witness history being made — so many Indians attempted RAAM before but no one could finish it! Some of us went live on Facebook to webcast the historic moment while some others were waiting with bated breath to see Srini on the horizon.

As soon as Srini checked into Rams Head Roadhouse, all hell broke loose with excitement all around. Some of us screamed in joy, some broke down in tears of success and some like me framed several pictures on mobile. Srini's stopover was hardly for a few minutes but it left an indelible mark on the Generals Highway. Apart from the follow vehicle, we all drove down to City Dock to witness the actual finish. 

We all had goosebumps, as RAAM officials on the microphone blared: "Here comes Srinivas Gokulnath, the first solo finisher from India." Is it dream, or reality? We asked ourselves. Srini appeared on the finish line with his usual smile that was seldom lost even when he had a tough time. He kissed the finish line — a kiss of accomplishment. He waved to hundreds of supporters and keen onlookers with a grin that talked of sheer grit — if there's a will, there's a way. Dream on.

Rider to Randonneur

The start

The day started with a cool breeze across the road. 

We, seven riders — five of us from Kolkata — hit the street in front of My Place hotel, Kondapur, for our first-ever brevet attempt — 200km. We certainly did not know what was waiting for us in the next 16 hours till we came back for the cozy comfort of our room.

Flasher on handle bar, red blinker at the saddle bar, reflective jacket put on, and helmet on top of everyone — the riders looked smart. Smart was the road, too. Smart was the reception at the welcome desk where we had to collect our bib numbers (mine was 107, just 100 more than Bond, James Bond). Our bikes were checked, OK stamp was marked on the most important piece of three-fold paper, brevet card, which came in plastic wrap.

Done. The route briefing was done by Krish Basu, who would later turn out to be a great route support in the fag end of the otherwise unsupported ride. Done was the final briefing by Krish Agrawal — without his word of encouragement the brevet would have been impossible to complete.

We, some 75 in all, were ready for the challenge. 

First few ups and downs

Hyderabad, for me, was completely an unknown biking terrain. I've been to the city when i was an MA student, when it was part of Andhra Pradesh, when Satyam used to rule the IT sector, and, when this new swanky airport was literally a distant dream!

As the peloton tried to negotiate turns and twists in the early morning hours when i was supposed to cuddle up under the blanket (yes, i saw many a motorcyclist with jackets on), i also joined the pack just to keep my pace. Within 20 minutes, we were out of the city, and hit the first hill for a simple gradient. The downhill was nothing much with my Garmin GPS showing a mere 42kmph. 

To reach Shankarpalli town, one has to go past the Icfai Business School and a cool 20km ride on a polished metal road.

The fall

Shankarpalli is a small town. You have to cross the railway tracks to reach the town, which was unfolding on a dry weekend when i was about to reach. I took out the cue sheet while on the pedal to take a look at the map as i thought that i might lose my way in absence of any back-up car and also lose crucial minutes on brevet.

Taking a sip on the go or going through a cue sheet even as pedalling is hardly new to me but that day something got wrong. Maybe high wind speed. Maybe a speeding car passing me. What happened exactly i don't know but all i can felt was the cycle on top of me and i was lying on the tar! 

The fall. Blood. Pain. And, hardly anyone to help me gain enough strength to be up on the saddle. Brevet is like that only.

Got up. Fixed the twisted handle bar. Again, felt the pain of my twisted right wrist. As i write it today, a couple of days after the July 12 ride, i can still feel the pain. But champs are unstoppable. That was my motivation that was soon endorsed by Krish Agarwal at the Shankarpalli market where they stopped to pick up some stuff for the control points. He saw me, blood oozing out from right knee. I assured him and others everything will be alright. It happens. With some Volini spray and band-aid, i took the road towards Nawabpet. 

The horrible headwind

And, thus started the 30 and odd kilometres of headwind. I pedal but can hardly move through the road chiselled out of the rocky Deccan plateau. Some occasional trees, little vegetation on field marked the paved road towards Nawabpet. 

A sweet left turn after around 10 km from Shankarpalli behind a small shop led the peloton to the sleepy hamlet of Nawabpet, which has a police station also! Curious as the people are on the roadside, i tried to dodge past them for a minute's break to buy a bottle of water. And, there came Kinley, chilling cold! I was a bit surprised. The shop-owner even did not charge a rupee extra over the Rs 20 MRP. I promptly poured the first packet of Electral, a popular ORS brand, which kept me going all the way to complete the brevet. By the time i returned to Hyderabad, i finished five packets of Electral!

This route seemed endless as the headwind became quite stronger. It was an unequal fight between wind power and muscle power. Certainly i won! But that cost me huge sacrifice of energy. After around 30 more kilometres, i stopped for the first control point, which came up at a T-junction on SH-4. Picking up some bananas and filling the bottle, i again stepped on to the pedals for the ride towards Vikarabad.

Multiplex surprise

Vikarabad, to me, looked a bigger town in the district of Ranga Reddy. The best part of the ride to Vikarabad was the schoolchildren suddenly popping up on the roadside and eager to touch my gloved left palm! Certainly, it was no Tour de France, and i am no Nibali or Sagan! But their curiosity and inspiration were etched in my mind, rather gloves, as some little fella also wanted to bring me down!

As Krish suggested, we were to find a statue and take a right turn to Ananthagiri hills. But where is the statue? There were at least four of them on the highway. Who to ask? I asked an autorickshaw driver. He said something in Telugu, which i could not make out. But he indicated me that all the cyclists took a particular road after taking right... and, again i was on the right track.

The most fascinating ride in Vikarabad was to find a Cinemax multiplex in the town. While most of the single-screen cinemas in Bengal and Kolkata are incurring losses (so, are some multiplexes), how can Cinemax set up such a theatre there? 

Up and down

The uphill ride to Ananthagiri was simple...with not so high gradient. I zoomed past the temple at the hill top and suddenly came across a signboard: "Please check your break. Sharp downhill" Break? Give me one! Certainly, it epitomises Indian English.

The downhill started soon after... a spiralling path with fresh coat of tar. I don't know how long it took me to reach Kerelli from the signboard but it should not be more than 15 minutes. After crossing Kereli, i stopped at an intersection of four roads. Buying another litre of chilled water wasted some time, yet it helped me reach Kotapally lake after taking a right turn from there. 

Kotapally is obviously a huge lake but some part of the vast waterbody dried up because of poor monsoon in Telangana till second week of July.

By the Kotapally, we were served egg-biryani. Hungry that i always is. I just had it like a glutton! Suddenly, Sumit Kumar told me to finish lunch fast and head towards the third control point. Yes, the lunch point also served as the second control point after 40-km steady ride from the first one. 

The climb

Nobody will forget the Ananthagiri climb on return. One of the fellow riders later said it was simply impossible to climb 3km after lunch! Impossible is something i have hardly cared in my adventure activities — be it trekking at 19000 ft height or cycling in the Himalayas or the Deccan.

I took a look at Ananthagiri from the foothill. Ah! Saw some fellows walking the climb with their cycles. But i was more eager to cycle all the way. Put my bike in the lowest gears, i tried to climb. Met Chirag on way to the temple. Exasperated, i asked one of the road construction workers: "How much have i to climb more?" Reply: "Aur thoda sa (a little bit more)." It seemed to be a never-ending climb to me what they interpreted as "thoda sa"!

Upon reaching the hilltop, i asked myself: "Is it the hell part of the BRM, or the heaven, being on top of everything?" No answer. Just ride on. 

Yes, the ride continued for another 11 km to reach Vikarabad town again.

Third control point

I thought Manneguda is hardly 4 km from Vikarabad. I was wrong. Is the cue sheet also wrong? I pulled out the cue sheet. Jesus! It's another 11 km from the NTR statue. I checked time. It was 2.27pm. And, the control point would be closed by 3.07pm. What else i could do but to just pedal on.

Just about 3 km from Manneguda town, i got a call on my cellphone. I didn't pick it up. Rarely, i take calls while on ride. Later, i found it was one of my fellow BRM riders. Anxious. He called me frantically. When i touched the third control point, even Krish Agrawal was tensed whether i can reach there by 3.07 pm. Yes, i reached. 

Confidence simply built up there. I calculated. My GPS was showing 136 km. So, i have to ride 64 more kilometres. I chalked out one thing. Backed by tailwind, i could easily get 30kmph on my Trek 4300 D. It's difficult though. More simple. 20kmph. It would take three-and-half hours to reach Hyderabad. On road again, after exactly 3-minute break.

Back to Hyderabad

The ride back was quite enjoying, as the third control point was most crucial. After checking-in there, the fourth one was hardly 14 km from the end point. Riding with the help of tailwind, i simply sailed past everything. Yes, there was some climb also but not like the Ananthagiri one. 

I rode past Chevella, where i stopped at a four-point crossing to take a look at the cue sheet. All of a sudden, three/four persons came close to me asking where is the "race" headed to? I tried to explain them it's not a "race" at all but one has to reach a certain point at a certain time. And, they turned apologetic for asking me to wait! "Please go fast... go right now, else you may not reach Hyderabad before 6.30," said one of the elderly persons.

A few kilometers before Moinabad, i spotted a little shop on my left where i refilled my bottle with packaged water. The road condition of SH-4 was beyond my expectation as most of the state highways (SH) in Bengal are appalling. In Kolkata and around, we need MTB tyres but in Hyderabad and beyond, i still rue why i did not have road ones. Again, it was a learining experience.

I would love to spend many a romantic monsoon evening by Osman Sagar at Gandipet. And, as i reached Gandipet, around 5 on a Saturday evening, i could see couples and even families with kids were enjoying the cool breeze. But i had to climb Movie Tower hills to reach its top for the last control point. Upon reaching there, i could spot a car waiting for us with BRM seal, water and some chocolates. I could also spot the skyscrapers on the northern horizon! Yes, I've almost reached the City of Pearl again. 

Last hurdles

Does Hyderabad equal to hurdles? Even the last 14 km of our brevet had two steep climbs, although in the city. I thought the way back would be a better one after the headwind in the morning. Now, in the evening, i had to negotiate climbs of flyovers but also heavy traffic of rush hours. As all fellow professional cyclists do, i also stopped at traffic signals, killing my crcuial time to reach the end point at The Bike Affairs.

Upon arrival, all the other cyclists who had completed before me gave me a thunderous applause. I promptly handed over my BRM card to the official concerned, and got it stamped well within the stipulated time!

In a word, my first brevet was splendid. It encourages me to take the challenge to be a super randonneur one day.

Chasing Pinto

The first day was just beyond our domain, and imagination.

We — Ashish, Abhinav, Purushottam and me — stopped midway to pick up mineral water bottles, bananas and other stuff to set up a feeding joint near Dharmpur to help MTB Himalaya riders during the uphill stage till Gada Kuffar. And, the news came — not like a bolt from the blue. We had an inkling this was about to happen. Our bolt, Luis Leao Pinto, the World No. 9, had reached Gada Kuffar in style, a la Usain Bolt.

The news came when the ride was hardly 3.5 hours old. Not a single rider in the MTB Himalaya, considered one of the tough ones because of the terrain and altitude, has ever achieved to cover 82km in just 3 hours and 20 minutes. Not a mean feat boy! Pinto proved us all wrong... he seemed to be too pricey to the photographers...to fast for rest of the pack!

We sent a press release immediately that turned out front page story in most of the newspapers howling: "Pinto creates new record in the Himalayas". That night, at Gada Kuffar campsite, we found hardly anyone could take a picture of Pinto, the blaze. Thus, began strategy of "Chasing Pinto".

Cut to Day II. 

Ashish, next morning, punched a few kicks at a sleeping bag in which Samir, one of the MTB Himalaya officials, had slipped into the previous night. The order was simple: "Go and get some pictures of Pinto. He has already started the race. To cover 13km uphill till Matiana, he won't take much time." A bleary-eyed Samir took out his trademark black Canon bag and rushed towards the route. Meanwhile, i thought to have some tea and breakfast at Matiana Bazaar as Ashish was yet to finish his bath and Abhinav was making use of the sleeping bag pretty well in 15 degrees Celsius. 

I met Gaurav, one of the photographers, at the same snacks shop where i was looking for a cuppa. After a rebuke from Mohit, the race director, on Day I night, all the six and odd photographers took position at different locations. Gaurav's duty was at Matiana Bazaar. Let me write a transcript of a brief chat with Gaurav at the chai shop.

Wassup?

Good morning. How was the night at the camp?

Cool; a bit cold rather.

So, you are armed with all your zoom and wide lenses?

Yep. Waiting for Pinto. What do you want? Tea or coffee?

A cup of tea will do. But don't miss Pinto today. We don't have a single picture of Pinto. The press guys were asking for it yesterday.

Nope. I just ordered an anda-paratha. Will you have one?

Why not? But keep an eye on the road. Samir had left at least 20 minutes back to capture Pinto in his camera.

Wow! Such a hard-working chap. But don't worry, i'll be the first person to take his snap this morning. 

Have you seen this Hindi daily? Look, how they have displayed our flag-off ceremony from Shimla.

Superb! We should not have missed a picture of Pinto. Sad.

And, the saddest part was just to come even before Gaurav could either finish off his words, forget the anda-paratha. Pinto, in a red jersey, whooshed past us to take the downhill from Matiana to Mahori. Gaurav's camera was still on the table. I was angry. Gaurav speechless. Will another saga of "missing Pinto" start?

In another 10 minutes, Ashish and Abhinav came with the official car. I stepped onto it to reach Manan to set up a feed zone for the riders. This time i told Ashish we should be ready with our DSLRs. Maybe our pictures won't have that "quality", at least we can send Pinto's one or two pictures to the press. Someone from the Mahori point told us Pinto had left the place a few minutes back. We calculated. We had just 15-20 minutes or so. This time, Ashish told me to take the SUV to 500 metres downhill and he would wait with Abhinav, Purushottam, bananas, juice and DSLR. 

On that bright sunny morning, i was waiting with bated breath for Pinto. Our driver, Amit, yelled out: "Bhaiya, woh a raha hai Pinto!" Tetra pack of juice for Pinto in one hand, DSLR in the other. Which one to use? You can take a picture using one hand but cycling shots need two hands. Amit offered help; he would offer water, juice etc to Pinto. Dilemma over. Focus on DSLR. Ah! There goes Pinto.... on an uphill ride. The shot was over. I alerted Ashish over phone. Then onward, we never lost touch with Pinto. One photographer or the other would have tracked him for the next four days. And, Samir was lucky to have chased successfully to Hatu Peak (11000ft) on the fifth day. A pen drive-full Pinto was with us at the end of the race.

P.S. Samir, being a local lad, knew almost every shortcuts of the hills but Pinto did not give him a chance on Day II uphill. He missed Pinto despite being sent to the spot well in advance. 

MTB Foot Soldier

Dattatreya Patil is not just another passionate biker.

In the myth, Dattatreya — the incarnation of Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwar — left home at a very early age in search of the Absolute — the moksha. In reality, Dattatreya, too, left home to explore the world on two wheels.

Elusive as the mythological god is, Dattatreya — popularly known as Datta Patil in the cycling circuit — pedals all the way every year to MTB Himalaya. And like the sage of Dattatreya Purana, he too is barefooted. Whoever has done mountain biking knows it very well how difficult it is to ride a cycle in the terrain full of gravel and stone, dirt and streams, mud and springs. But Datta Patil is different. He hardly cares for his toes, which may crush against the rocky surface any time on a sharp bend. We have specialised shoes, some are imported, for MTB but Datta Patil has no wish to change his way of biking.

At 12, he learnt how to balance the wonder two-wheeler. Thirty years down the line, the grape farmer from Sangli, some 380km southeast of Mumbai, has ridden thousands of kilometres across the country. Last year, he pedalled all the way from Sangli to Panipat for spreading the message of “Saving the girl child”. From the mighty Himalayas to the rugged Sahyadri — he mustered courage to cover on the two wheels. His daily routine remains a bit odd. Waking up at 2am, he warms up for half an hour before hitting the road with the steel machine. By the time the children — he runs a district-level cycling club in Sangli for years — starts arriving at the break of the day, he puts up at least 100km. And, it’s not the end of his morning ride. With the children, he does another 50km at least! By 8 in the evening, he is ready for bed.

Surprising to many of us, but this routine has yielded him results. He has not taken a single medicine in the last 25 years. His cycling club where he trains children aged over 10 years has been organising trips to various destinations — from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. As he prepares them for cross-country rides free of cost, he seeks sponsor for the trips and if he cannot find one, he tries to pump funds, whatever little he has, himself. Every year, Datta Patil confers a “Swami Vivekananda Young Achiever” award to one of the teenaged cyclists also.

His presence at any event, especially in the MTB Himalaya, draws an enormous amount of media attention. But it’s difficult for anyone to confirm whether he would travel 2,000km — that’s the exact distance from his village to the hub of MTB Himalaya in Shimla — this year also. But we all know he would turn up at the Ridge on September 27. As I was doing a research on Datta Patil for the past few days, I wanted to talk to him. But he is still elusive. And, hardly anyone knows his cellphone number, if he has at all any. I shot off a mail to an id but in a fraction of second I got a failure notice. “Failure” might be a popular phrase for the mailmaniacs but I hope it’s not in his dictionary. He will remain as the barefoot soldier of hundreds of MTB enthusiasts.

MTB Mania

For a biker in one of the most populous and polluted city, cycling is a curse on the road. Finding a way out in the snarls made up of innumerable cars and buses is near impossible a proposition. Riding at a cruise speed of even 20kmph in the potholed roads called highways can best be called a dream. Inhaling carbon monoxide in every nook and cranny of the green-starved city is just a practice for a smoother, and quicker, journey to death. This is Kolkata where cycling is banned on 172 roads – something unimaginable elsewhere in the world.

Something unimaginable to me too who spent his university days in a serene town, literally known as abode of peace — Santiniketan — where cycle is the favourite mode of transport for students and residents. Something unimaginable to someone who enjoys treading along the serpentine forest path in the Himalayas, or the Saranda. Something unimaginable to an over-ambitious youth who wants to cycle around the world.

It’s all about the perfect balance. It’s all about the green machine. It’s all about the free wheels. Wheels that should know no stopping, no count of RPM, no dashboard to indicate whether you are running out of fuel and no tailpipe, no gas, no power steering, no power window, no AC ducts, no cushy seats with head rests... It’s no-nonsense entity. It’s a cycle. A two-wheel wonder. Why shouldn’t one fall in love with it? Why shouldn’t one take it on the roads that vanish in the greeny horizon of the countryside, why shouldn’t one ride it down the rocky mountains, why shouldn’t one just enjoy the breeze gliding it along the virgin beaches where waves splash on its spokes?

The love for cycling turns profound with a ride on MTB — mountain terrain biking. But what does it take to ride an MTB? Questions were aplenty. Someone told me about trek. What is a trek? Trek with a lower "t" or an upper "T"? For years, trek for me was the expeditions i had taken to Sandakphu or Roopkund. Or Kalatop or Gaumukh... or ...or.... 

But some years back, four digits changed my perception. 3700. Just four digits. I didn’t know the strength of the four digits till i hopped on to one. Some months on, i was addicted to it. Addiction, they say, is bad for health. Is it? Not only to my office and back in central Kolkata, even during Durga Puja, the mother of all festivals in this part of the country, i rode it across the length and breadth of the city. Some more weeks, and weekends, followed. I promoted myself to 4300D. For the uninitiated, these are numbers. For the passionate biker, it’s the Arabian horses in the stable, the Jag in the garage, the Dreamliner in the hangar. Wind in the hair maybe a clichéd term, but for us, the MTBians, it’s something we live with every day, every moment in every turn downhill, in every twists of freeriding. Now, it’s time to break free in the Himalayas with MTB Himalaya, Edition 9.

A Valley Like No Other

The first plan we made it during the rains of 2008. But it just didn't happen that year, and the years that followed till August 3 this year. The early morning mist still engulfed the valley of Ghangaria where we stayed put at a dormitory run by the Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam. The day before, around 2.40pm, i was the first to reach Ghangaria after a gruelling 15km trek from Govindghat, where we camped just for a few hours after starting from Josimath around 7am. Govindghat is an important transit point for pilgrims to Hemkund Sahib, a holy place for the Sikh community, and also for nature-lovers like us who were dying to visit the Valley of Flowers.

A valley that comes second to not another in the Himalayas was chance-discovered in 1931 by a group of British mountaineers. After 70 years when we visited the Valley, it was a more organized trek with the government ready to support the enthusiasts. Surprisingly, 95% of travellers who found accommodation at hotels and guesthouses of the tiny hamlet of Ghangaria were bound for Hemkund Sahib. Only a few armed with macro lens had got up early, battled mule-dung for some time to hit the road spiralling through the forest that leads to Valley of Flowers National Park.

We were no exception. Being in a profession that demands glued to the screen till late in the night, waking up early is a torture and if that happens at a place where the mercury even hardly touched the 8-degree mark around 4am in August, it becomes simply unbearable. And, Rajesh was adept in it. The night before, i told all of my teammates not to push and shove me till everyone was ready except buckling their shoes as i need only 10 minutes to make myself prepared after leaving the bed. As my friends were more than paying any heed to me, i had no option but to join them on our much-awaited trek to the Valley.

For me, reaching the Valley as fast as possible was the only goal then because the first sun ray was important for taking pictures. My experience in the Hills told me of a bright morning ahead even as there was much rainfall the night before. And sunny it was! I was soon joined by Kunal, who was not only a master trekker but had come to the Valley once in 2004. Kunal told me he had not found so many varieties of flowers during his earlier visit, and moreover, they were greeted with heavy rain also. Saugata, our another teammate and who had accompanied Kunal in 2004 also, seconded him but not before i clicked some amazing pictures of colourful flowers of the Valley. Suddenly, within 15 minutes after reaching the Valley, it was cloud all over the hills where visibility dropped to zero for some time. Obviously, we did not expect the snow-capped peaks would create a scenic background to the lush green hills with yellow-mauve-pink-red-white-blue flowers dotting the kilometres-long Valley, but we did not imagine it can be so cloudy that even taking macro-mode pictures would be near impossible.

What took the cake besides capturing hundreds of frames at the Valley was the breakfast there. We packed our stuff — simple one with aloo-paratha and aloo-jeera — at the GMVN trekking resthouse to enjoy it at the lap of nature. And, water was aplenty: fresh mineral water directly from the melting glacier that we could see from the Valley. The best part of our trek was that only at Valley of Flowers we were not disturbed by the fleet of mules rather we could feel nature at its best. Serenity was redefined at the Valley where silence was only occasionally broken by sun-birds and flower-peckers. Bees, as we found, were literally busy-bees oblivion to shutterbugs like us! When we were coming back, i made a resolution to revisit the Valley, maybe like Margaret Legge, who died in a freak accident there in 1939, as embracing death amidst Nature is unique, too!

World of 3 Wheelers!

Invention, and more importantly innovation, of three-wheelers always intrigue me. For example, auto-rickshaw. Who was the visionary to have thought of this revolutionary transport system in the third world countries (incidentally, developed nations nowadays also use this mode of public transport)? Millions of commuters across the world are hardly bothered about the origin of it but are obviously surprised to notice its change over the years.

Auto-rickshaws that i was used to ride since childhood can hardly be seen now on Kolkata roads. With its kata-tel (a proportionate toxic mix of diesel and kerosene)-guzzling engines, these blue and white tiny little things were over-zealous to overtake any vehicle that came into their way. Since old habits die hard, the drivers of LPG-run green-yellow autos here also try to zoom past everything.

In Bangladesh's Kushtia, i found during my recent visit, the traffic scenario is no better with vehicles snaking their way through the main thoroughfares. Amid all the hullabaloo, suddenly you might see a Tuk Tuk tries to get past your Toyota sedan. Tuk Tuks are very convenient way of commuting in any Bangladesh towns, generally densely populated in a little space. These Tuk Tuks are usually battery-driven and carry five persons, excluding the driver, and surprisingly all these come from China. In fact, Tuk Tuks are colourfully decorated with enough space for ventillation unlike our autos. One won't feel suffocated but will enjoy the ride even if you are waiting at the signal or the railway level crossing.

On our way to Silaidaha, where Tagores had zamindari, we stepped onto Korimon after crossing the Garai on foot. Now what's that? It was not a new thing to me, as this motor-driven cycle-vanrickshaw is a common sight in this side of the fence, too. But the name is interesting: Korimon. What does it mean? I have never figured out though i asked several people there also. And, Google can't lead me to a page on Korimon to say whether i am lucky!

If Korimon was not enough, a motorised cycle-vanrickshaw surfaces with a customised shed on it to protect people from sun and rains. I asked our van driver, "What will you call that?" "Nosimon". What a sweet name that was! A three-wheeler that runs on diesel with engines of motorcycles smuggled with makeshift shed for passengers and an unforgettable name — isn't it itself interesting to an urban youth like me? While i was crossing the Benapole border near Bongaon, and boarded an auto-rickshaw, my mind was still stuck in the sheds of Nosimon! Wish i could ride such a Nosimon everyday!