Coimbatore for a couple of nights

December 19, 2010 to December 20, 2010

This Way and That

My original plan was to ride into Coimbatore because it is where they used to race scooters back in the 1970s, and the idea is to track down some of the people involved for that magazine article I talked about back in Bangalore, but the guy there still hasn't emailed me back. Incredible India.

It seems best to avoid that nondescript city and its traffic and keep to smaller roads and the man-in-the-hotel-in-Ooty's route mentions a place named Annur that's east from here and yet my aim is to reach the west coast. I'll ask in the lobby about an alternative cycling route - a more direct one.

Outside the sun is trying to come out and it's nearly 10 o'clock now: time to go. I stick my wet clothing in a plastic bag and try to dry them along the way.

The two guys at reception can't suggest routes any of the nearby towns on my map, but I'll see what the road is like soon enough as it's just outside the front door. I take a right. We'll see what happens.

It's a lane without a sign, but it's got to be better than any busy road, which is not what I came to this part of the world to experience. The section of paved route ends at a field after only a couple of minutes, so I go back to a fork and take the left branch and that too dwindles into a footpath across a field where a man is grazing cows after just 100 metres. I wonder what he's thinking as be nods at my presence in this field of low grass. We'll never know.

I keep going as it'll take me somewhere and it does -towards some buildings. When I get to them there's another paved lane and this time it weaves further west -my general direction for today. I'm vindicated.

This is great as there are no vehicles - just the odd motorbike ridden by a villager slowly goes by - and I can hear them coming a minute before they arrive.

The houses that are grouped every kilometre or less are mostly painted a pale purple and are different from what I've seen on this tour so far. Coconut tress line the narrow way and it's quintessentially rural southern India.

The sun comes out.

At intersections my compass keeps me heading roughly west and I ride for a couple of hours, with peaks looming in the distance on both sides of the tarmac -large dark shapes silhouetted against the sky that my map tells me must be the Nilgiri Hills. This road isn't shown.

My clothes need to dry and it's gone noon, so I stop and hitch my nylon cord between two metal signs and hang them out and not long after two guys on a scooter stop and interrogate me about personal details and so on. They never ask the one question that would make a difference: Do you need any help or words to that effect. They linger for half an hour. It's incredibly tedious.

My clothes are done by 1:40 except for the yellow wool top, but it's good enough for now and I'm hungry - the jam on toast at breakfast seems a long time ago.

When I get to a junction with a sizable village there's a place serving rice and so I order some and it's served on a large piece of palm leave the same as yesterday and the meal costs just 30 rupees, including a cup of tea.

The proprietor tells me the road to our right leads to Nilgiri and so I go back to the junction and ride south, which is the direction of Coimbatore - some 40km away he says. It's now nearly three o'clock.

Ten K later the route gets gradually wider and then meets the main road. It's 30 km now to the city and they are not going to be very nice ones, but it seems fate has dictated that I end up in there after all. It'll be getting dark by the time I arrive.

The last hour's cycling is not a pleasant one and the first hotel is 3,000 a night and the second wants 2,000, so I head for the railway station as my guidebook says there are places there. The first two say they are full, but the third has a single for just over a grand and by now I'm simply grateful to find a room and gladly accept it without inspection.

The city map in the Lonely Planet is crap.

The room is spacious. Coimbatore: here I am and might as well try to locate some of those scooter racers from the 70s. I've paid for two nights.

Day 2 in Coimbatore

Before I came I did some digging around online and found an address of a mechanic's place run by a man who fixes up old scooters and whose name is Mr. Jaila. He was involved in scooter racing back in the Seventies and I have his telephone number noted down too and ask the receptionist to call him for me.

The number for Mr Jaila's Prince Auto Garage is wrong and it's not listed in yellow Pages so it seems best to just get a taxi there. When I tell reception they suggest the bus number 11 across the road, which is just 3 rupees, so that's what I do.

It seems the whole of the city wants the 11 as I climb on with the other men at the back, while the women go through the front door. A couple of stops later and people are hanging out the door and it seems like one of those Guinness Book of Records attempts to see how many can squeeze into a bus. In-cred-i-ble-in-di-aaahh.

The address is wrong too. What a cock-up. A man in a cake shop asks some taxi drivers and one tells me of a guy nearby called Vinod races scooters and so I go here.

He's young - late 20s - and obviously isn't the guy I want, but he's super helpful with his basic English and makes some calls and then drives me to the office of the local auto sports club where I'm introduced to Venu. His English is better, but he doesn't know Jaila and tells me that Coimbatore wasn't a venue for scooter racing. It just had mechanics and I feel a bit despondent.

Then I think it's a good idea to meet a collector of scooters as suggested and we drive there and discover the collector has a workshop and repair place where he stores over 20 vintage machines, including a few old scooters. And he does know Jaila!

An hour later we are at Jaila's tiny lockup workshop where he's been since 1976. It's walking distance from my hotel. He probably hasn't done much to his workshop in all these years except collect and cram it with bits and bobs, but he's a great guy with big hands and rides a Lambretta, a classic Italian scooter, which is a few decades old.

It rains while we chat.

Back in Thaii Hotel's room 109, I look at my map yet have no idea about the tomorrow's ride. I'll simply inquire at reception when I check out about quiet roads south or west of this sprawling city - the Manchester of India they call it.

Today's ride: 65 km (40 miles)
Total: 1,968 km (1,222 miles)

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