Day 17 - Karwar to Udupi

Karwar was an unplanned but important stop. The new chain-sprocket would be vital for the 1000 kilometre journey still ahead. Maps estimated Goa-Trivandrum at 1050 klicks if taking the simple and direct route down the NH-17. In my mind, I had broken up the journey into three chunks to be spread over three days. The on-paper objective for today was to reach Mangalore before sundown. In a few hours, "directness" would be the first casualty of the plan.

Laxmi Lodge was located next to what looked like the town chowk (the centre where townspeople would gather in days of yore), complete with pointy-turbaned traffic cop at the crossroads. My room balcony oversaw this quaint little "chowraha" (four-way) with perhaps its very own  police chowki:

 

The rows of houses with mud-tiled sloping roofs reminded me of the stories of R. K. Narayan set in the fictitious town of Malgudi - a melting-pot mindscape of the Tamil Nadu and Karnataka village worlds where he grew up. The illustrations by his brother, cartoonist R. K. Laxman and the TV show of the late 80's with its catchy yet plaintive title song only added to my feeling of having been here before. That Doordarshan TV series "Malgudi Days" was shot in Shimoga, an adjacent district. If I could get a handle on the village name I'd already be on my way there.
 

 

Left hotel by 9.30 a.m. Drove past Mahalaxmi Automobiles looking to pick up some pointers from repairman Mr. Subhash but it was still closed.

Joined the highway near a fishing hamlet.

The mountains loom up in the distance as the coast links with the Western Ghats yet again.

Beyond the beach, the vast expanse of azure calmness would rise up in occasional grassy knolls of land.  

A leafless tree hunched by the side of a channel to the sea.

Passed Ankola which has the famous Gokarna beach and temple but saw no restaurants along the road for at least a 100 km. Was lucky to spot the lone joint at Kumta - being on the right side (i.e. wrongside) of the road it was easy to miss. It would seem that all travellers going south from Karwar are not expected to be hungry. The place bustled like a college canteen. Had a hearty breakfast of set dosa (3 small plain uttappam-like rice pancakes), masala dosa, sambar, coco chutney, and a cold-drink:

Some 30 km on, at Honavar, came a fork in the road where a board announced that Jog Falls was 61 km to the left down NH 206 while the NH 17 would carry on to the right. I remembered school geography, looking at the grainy black-and-white photograph in the NCERT textbook and wondering what the country's highest waterfall would look like in real life. Taking the left turn was a no-brainer. As for the alteration in plans, I guessed 61 km would take a little over an hour, meaning the detour would be a 3-hour round trip including photo-ops.

The road went deep into the Western Ghats. About 40 km on was a viewing platform that gave away beautiful vistas of the Sharavathi River (that the road parallels and whose fall over rocks further east is the Jog Falls) and the hill range to the south:

This photo often reminds viewers of visuals from the Lord of the Rings movie series: 

 

The NH 206 road as seen from the viewing platform:

There is a wildlife sanctuary in those hills, the Sharavathi Valley Wildlife Sanctuary:

The river heads quietly to its fall. 

 

One must cross a bridge to view the fall from balcony seats on the other side:

Ghosts of rainbows swirl through the misty whitewater:

Kenneth Anderson, sometimes called the Jim Corbett of southern India, was a hunter, naturalist, and, later, conservationist of the last century. Of Scottish roots, he lived in Bangalore and "ghoomed" (roamed the forests of) the peninsula writing many books about his adventures. His 1959 book, a collection of jungle stories called "The Black Panther of Sivanipalli and Other Adventures of the Indian Jungle" has a chapter on "The Maned Tiger of Chordi" which recounts the depredations of a man-eating tiger that terrorised these parts. There is a mention of Gersoppa falls (as Jog was also sometimes called) and the inspirational effect it can have on travellers:

There are two Travellers' Bungalows at the head of the falls. The one on the southern bank of the Shiravati River, which is by far the more modern building, falls within the boundary of Mysore State and is appropriately called the 'Mysore Bungalow'. The opposite bungalow, across the river and on its northern bank, comes under the jurisdiction of Bombay State. It is an older building, very isolated and seldom occupied— for which reason I much prefer it. It is known, of course, as the 'Bombay Bungalow'. It is rather unusual — and amusing — to find the visitors' books in both bungalows crammed with efforts to write poetry by the various people who have stayed in them from time to time. Undoubtedly the grandeur of the falls has been the cause of awakening this latent desire to wax poetical in minds that perhaps have hitherto remained indifferent. Some of their efforts are really laudable and inspiring; but for the rest I feel it would be difficult anywhere else to assemble such a pile of drivel in one place.

This might be one of the bungalows mentioned:

There is a triangular pool at the foot of the falls:

A signboard warns people not to enter a dangerous place. It turned out to be one of the most crowded places in Jog. The curious were mostly schoolchildren who dutifully read the board before doing the exact opposite.

A change of plans on the advice of guards at the Falls gate. Instead of going back the way I came and rejoining the NH 17 at Honnavar I would take the scenic route down State Highway 50 (SH 50) through Sharavathi Valley Wildlife Sanctuary and join the NH 17 further south at Bhatkal.

Jog - 61 km (NH 206) - Honnavar - 40 km (NH 17) - Bhatkal = 101 km

Jog - 80 km (SH 50) - Bhatkal = 80 km

The route was shorter lengthwise but turned out to be longer timewise because of the hilly terrain and bad roads.

The Linganamakki dam, which did not itself make an appearance in my journey ahead, has this extension of its reservoir that contributes to the Sharavathi further on.

Aralagodu, a small village, has a three-way circle without signboards. The man in the photo foreground showed me the way to Bhatkal, 58 km away. With waterfalls everywhere I had neglected to fill my own water bottle and was now quite thirsty. He was kind enough to bring me a lota (small pot) of water to drink.

Stopped later at this jungle waterfall for a sip. The water was much colder than I expected and very refreshing. Fuel for the rider, high octane.

The shaded mountain road opened out into this sunny valley:

Nagavalli, a small village 28 km from Bhatkal serves as a rest stop for tourist buses carrying sanctuary enthusiasts and trekkers. Kanoor Kote fort and Dabbe falls are much-loved hiking trails near here. Ordered a chai and samosas at Hotel Madhusree, a snack bar by the road. Mr. Kishna, the caretaker, turned out to be an interesting and inquisitive fellow with a hearty laugh. He told of how his father's family migrated from Kerala and settled here many decades back. Now they speak a dialect that is a mix of Kannada and Malayalam languages. A boy at the shop helped re-tie some of the motorcycle baggage with strips of coir rope and seemed very impressed with my chinese-made swiss army knife.

On roads like these, you live life 10 yards at a time.

Thoughts swirl in funnel-vision. Is this the surface of a moon? A big, unending, empty ice-tray? Acne on teenage tarmacadam?

A flat section of sun-dried grassland had a road running through it right into another dense jungle.

The sunset to my left was surprising because my destination was south. The mountain path had thus brought me full circle and this stretch was due north.

This is the point where the NH 17 comes closest to the sea. Inclement weather sometimes washes waves over the road.

Stopped for a coffee break at the Malpe beach turn in an area called Adi Udupi. It was 8 pm so decided to can the scene for Mangalore which was still 70 km, another two hours in city traffic. In this world run by humans, getting things done after 10 pm is always a gamble - choices narrow down, the right persons can't be found, and important tasks are perforce shifted to the morrow.

Checked into a 2-star hotel, Karavali, conveniently located behind the coffee tapri. After a hot shower and room-delivered dinner of chicken sandwiches and Goan wine the sleep came easy.