Invisible Cities

I have to tell this out loud. This was our FIRST BIKE TRIP. And planning a Bangalore to Ooty bike trip itinerary felt like opening the first page of a long-awaited adventure. Not the kind that happens in a rush, but one that unravels slowly. 

In the hum of the engine, the first chill of morning air. And the excitement of seeing the skyline dissolve into forests and mountains.

We had talked about this ride for months.

Me, the planner with playlists and snack boxes, and pit stop planner. And Ayush, the one who would rather check tyre pressure than breakfast menus. 

The plan was simple: leave early, reach Ooty by evening, and make every stop count. Not just as a pit stop, but as a story.

So here we go…

Leaving Bangalore at Dawn

We were supposed to leave by 5:00 a.m. But, like all great plans, it met its match in our slow-moving alarm clocks. By the time helmets were strapped and the city lights dimmed behind us, it was just past 6:00 a.m.

Kanakapura Road stretched ahead, glowing gold with the rising sun. We stopped once just to take it in. 

The stillness, the morning chill, and that familiar pre-trip grin that says, “Here we go.”

A few kilometers in, on reaching Kanakapura, we pulled over for chai. 

The stall owner smiled when he saw our luggage-laden bike. “Ooty?” he asked knowingly. 

Behind him, two peacocks wandered across the road, unconcerned with the traffic. 

That small moment…sipping hot tea, watching peacocks in soft morning light , somehow set the tone for the ride ahead.

I knew it was going to be worth it. 

Kanakapura to Mysore

Once the caffeine kicked in, the road opened up into gentle curves and rolling fields. We followed the Kanakapura–Malavalli–Mysore route. It was not the smoothest road in the state, but comfortable enough to enjoy.

Near Malavalli, we stopped to stretch. 

A local farmer waved as he passed by on his tractor. We waved back, and he shouted something about “rain coming soon”, and he was right. The clouds were gathering, and we could smell the wet wind ahead.

Breakfast was on the Mysore bypass. The kind of small-town restaurant that serves dosas so crisp they almost make up for the slow service. 

In hindsight, we should have waited till after Mysore for more options, but hunger overruled strategy.

By the time we mounted again, the wind had picked up and the air was heavy with that pre-rain scent. We didn’t mind. 

There’s something cinematic about chasing clouds on a highway. Main Character Vibes, you see!!

Through Dakshina Kashi to the Flower Pot of India

Next up was the road to Nanjangud, known as Dakshina Kashi, had fewer vehicles and more temple bells. The town, lined with shrines and bright yellow gopurams. It felt like a short cultural detour before we hit open country again.

Soon after, we rolled into Gundlupet. 

A town that looks like it was painted in sunshine. Fields stretched on both sides, dotted with sunflowers swaying like synchronized dancers.

We couldn’t resist. 

We parked, walked into one of the fields, and found ourselves surrounded by gold. 

A couple from a nearby village joined in for photos, laughing at our city gear and calling Ayush “captain” for handling the heavy bike. 

It was one of those silly, spontaneous moments that no itinerary could’ve planned.

Into the Wild: Bandipur to Mudumalai

Okay, brace yourselves, because this was the best part of the trip.

Not long after Gundlupet, the ride transformed completely. The sun softened, trees grew taller, and soon, we were in the Bandipur Tiger Reserve.

The highway turned whisper-quiet except for the hum of the bike and the calls of unseen birds. 

We slowed down to the posted 30 km/h limit and kept our eyes peeled.

And oh, how the forest rewarded us…

• A herd of spotted deer grazing calmly by the roadside
  
• A lone elephant flapping its ears in the distance
  
• A family of peacocks crossing just meters ahead of us
  

Every turn felt alive. Even the air smelled different. Damp, wild, earthy.

As we crossed the Karnataka–Tamil Nadu border, the signboard read “Welcome to Mudumalai Wildlife Sanctuary.” 

The forest thickened, the light turned dappled, and the excitement doubled.

Lunch Break at Masinagudi

By the time we reached Masinagudi, it was past noon. 

The road narrowed, the trees thinned, and small eateries appeared along the bends. We found one serving Chinese food. Steaming noodles, fried rice, and the kind of spice level that makes you question your decisions. Don’t even ask!

We lingered a while, half from exhaustion, half from not wanting the moment to end. 

Monkeys watched us from a nearby tree as we debated whether to rest longer or continue. 

Eventually, curiosity won. We still had the Kalhatti Ghat ahead.

The Climb Through Kalhatti Ghat: 36 Bends of Beauty

If the ride so far was calm, Kalhatti Ghat was pure adrenaline. 

This legendary stretch packs 36 hairpin bends within a few kilometers. 

Each twist revealing a new view. misty valleys, silver streams, or terraced tea gardens climbing the slopes.

It’s a test of balance, patience, and trust. 

At one of the bends, we stopped to take a photo. Ayush with his helmet off, grinning like a kid, the valley behind him glowing in afternoon sun. These are the soul nourishing moments that bike trips offer! Trust me…

Halfway up, a small troop of monkeys decided to race us. They won, obviously. But it added to the fun (and slight nervousness).

By the time we reached the top, my arms ached but my heart felt full. There’s a strange sense of triumph in conquering a road that demands both skill and awe.

Riders would know!

The Final Stretch: Ooty at Last

It was around 2:00 p.m. when we officially entered Ooty’s outskirts, or so we thought. A road closure and weekend traffic meant another hour of slow crawling through narrow lanes.

But we didn’t mind. 

Ooty’s charm unfolded in small ways. 

Pastel houses on hillsides, the smell of eucalyptus, children running along fences.

When we finally reached our hotel, helmets off and smiles wide, it wasn’t exhaustion. We felt, it was gratitude.

Little Lessons from the Ride

• Leave early: sunrise on Kanakapura Road is worth losing sleep for.
  
• Carry rain gear: the clouds in Nilgiris have their own plans.
  
• Stop often: not because you must, but because every stop tells a story.
  
• Respect the forest: Bandipur isn’t a shortcut; it’s a sanctuary. Respect the forest guidelines.
  
• Travel light: your back will thank you by the 20th hairpin turn.
  
• Patience is your best gear: especially when Ooty and Bangalore traffic tests it.

Reflections from the Road

Some trips stay on maps; others stay in your bones. This one felt like both.

Maybe it was the quiet thrill of seeing peacocks at dawn, or the sunflower field that smelled like sunshine, or the way the forest whispered as we rode through Bandipur. 

Maybe it was just the freedom of being on the road, not just to a place.

As we parked in Ooty and looked back at our mud-splattered bike, I remember saying, “Let’s do this again.” Ayush laughed, but I know he meant it too.

Because sometimes, the best journeys are the ones that ask for no reason. Just a road, a rider, and the promise of what lies ahead.

Till then, Happy Journey!