Saturday, April 29, 2006

Thursday, April 27, 2006

HONNEMARADU

HONNEMARADU





AN IDEA

The great dreams we had for the holidays were bygone and a feeling of melancholy ensued. ‘How about we pay Honnemaradu a visit?’, bellowed Gibbs, this idea I thought was timid. Belief in this plan- well not that great, but a series of internet searches seemed to tell, ‘Why not test our fate?’ A hundred calls later it seemed that the plan was almost dead and could not be redeemed, but it was call 101 that made all the difference and we finally booked ourselves a place there for a couple of days though we had to forge for a friend’s presence.






JOURNEY




Seats at honnemaradu were booked but alas! not for Shimoga. It was the time for online KSRTC bookings to the rescue, they had a few tickets to spare, just enough to let us through. All went well I thought until I climbed my last row seat, a ride on which even the most twisted roller coaster cant beat. In Shimoga we met-the trusty four (me,gibbs,baba,bp) with our bodies aching and our backs really sour. First day in Shimoga we spent in leisure , with safari having only 3 lions and 4 tigers to offer. Our plans couldn’t get worse for sure as we got delayed on the banks of pure waters of Siganduur. The ferry ride though was too good to miss. With ailing constraints of time we had to drop the idea of Kotachaadri and our final burst of energy was towards Jog.
The plus was an amazing ride and minus was the Jog water falls which turned out to be a joke. It looked like two leaking taps on a majestic cliff whose chest bore the marks of tearing forces of water, but just that the water was amiss. Dampened by the Jog we returned to Sagar had a special arthropod mixed meals with the thoughts of the coming day getting us exited all the time until the sleep took over.







HONNEMARADU- THE PLACE




A 12km auto ride from Talaguppa covers all kinds of terrain, from well laid asphalt roads to dirt-bike moto-rally tracks. Not all vehicles are capable of tearing through this scene but our resilient auto did, with a few helping hands from us in between.
Finally we arrived at the Honnemaradu water-sports training centre,i.e a Shack by the side of the road where we had to dump everything from our fears to our backpacks. We bid our auto-driver adieu and our trainer, Ganapati got us acquainted to this place anew.
Then I daresay, we went on a survey. First, to ‘The Circle’ with the rock sculpture in the midst. The shack visible at one end and forest everywhere else ,with sweet chirping of hundred birds that makes your heart swell. Right along this path is an open well, a source of water to every activity in the days we were to dwell.
Gana set us on our first expedition, to reach the peak of this tiny hill station. The climb was steep till the point of view, on a slippery surface still coated with morning dew. A ten min climb to the top where a house awaits you with its own little surprise.
Your mobile phones starts ringing to the bleak signals it gets. A little link to the outside world in this heavenly little place. View from the top is worth to die for, with mountains on one side and backwaters of Linganamakki dam creating a picturesque flurry of islands.
On our way back to the ‘circle’ we made a startling discovery – a ’HaavinaHede’ rock (=snake skull rock) which from an angle really looked scary. To top this one we discovered an amazing cook in Ganapati and his bucketful of lemonrice really gave us trupti.







JACKETING OUR FEARS




We walked to the river bay which was half a mile away, questioning whether our life jackets will come to save the day. Everything was calm on the banks of Sharavathi, a couple of dead trees sticking out their claw like branches here and there. Our equipment for for sports lay still on the shore and the sight of water was not scary but one which can be adored. A few dips in the water showed that we could not sink. With the deely instilled courage I screamed before the swim-drill, ‘Behold , here we come to enter the water cold, at depths unknown and untold, with no one to hinder us or scold.’ Our destination- an island remote. Half a mile to swim and be back by boat or… so I thought. The matter I hadn’t foreseen, only one boat followed us and not three and as you can see I had to get back by my only means, a man overboard, and at sea.
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THE SPINNING CORACLE



The return swim was a drag, slow and steady were we and no achievements to brag. Swim was followed by no rest but with a new quest and to put our skills to test. Four of us on a tiny coracle (small round boat), and to control its direction at one go would have been a miracle. We had spun ourselves dizzy and a half an hour of practice finally made it seem easy. We landed on the shore with our shoulders really sore, but just this experience made us jump and roar. Being delighted with the sunset we filled the coracle up to the crest and headed for out camping fest.
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CAMP NIGHT UNDER STAR LIGHT

We, the directionally challenged went on a night cruise to one more island. A night spent in a tent with ants crawling up my pants was not exactly my idea of a night well spent. In an island with no facility for my increasing gastric motility, with pitch dark surroundings being my only hope in saving my humility. Every squeak was giving us a scare and hence we stayed most of the night awake chatting away to glory. And when the morning came we were game for any adventure to tame.
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CANOEING AND KAYAKKING IN THE MORNING

In the waterfront we learnt the art of handling a boat. Firstly a canoe for two and a kayak for the daring solo. Maintaining the balance is a challenge and so also to maneuver it over the waves and to gain speed is fun with a fleeting thought of racing the sun.


All was done and though only two days, a nostalgia had begun. A next adventure began with us getting lost during our final trek on our way back. Few helpful villagers brought us back on track and liters of water saw us safe back to Sagar. Our trip ended with a boring bus ride home and an exciting story to recite.