Get out and ride - Around Coorg with a Yamaha

No BMW GSs or other such fancy bikes in this story, Paul O’Halloran went about things altogether differently for his trip around India. Story/pics Paul O’Halloran

Mysore road starts to twist and turn through a series of hairpins as it descends to the River Cauvery 1300 metres below Madikeri. Jungle and coffee plantations creep to within feet of the potholed Tarmac where cows wander along the verges to graze. I hear the horn blast of a bus struggling up the gradient on the blind bend I am approaching; I drop the Yamaha into second. I can now hear the roar of its diesel engine, grinding uphill in first gear; and above this, a deeper rumble and the tinny beep from the horn of a much smaller vehicle. I trickle into the bend and immediately swing hard left, plough through the gravel on the shoulder of the road and come to a sliding stop in a cloud of red dust. Facing me was the bus I had heard; overtaking it was a rickshaw; and overtaking them both, another bus – just another day’s riding in India, then.

Coorg is a hilly region in South India, bordering on the Western Ghats and known for its coffee and refreshing climate. Few tourists visit Coorg compared with the beaches of Goa and the hill station of Madikeri has yet to be overrun. With stunning scenery and inexpensive accommodation it makes a great area to explore by bike.

I hired a Yamaha Gladiator after trying a Bajaj Pulsar and, inevitably, an Enfield Bullet. The Pulsar was the basic 150cc model, and although it shared some of the aggressive looks of the 180 and 220 versions, it was heavier and no faster than the Yamaha. The Enfield could be said to epitomise ‘Indian biking’, but in terms of practicality, it leaves a lot to be desired. At 163kg, and producing just 18 horsepower, it is slow and ungainly – a real problem if you slide on gravel in a slow u-turn, or get forced off the road by a psychopathic bus driver, both of which are quite likely to happen. And there’s the distraction of the right-foot gear shift, too. So I chose the Gladiator, a 125cc four-stroke single. At 108kph flat out, it’s only slightly less quick than the Pulsar and is lighter, too; it will leave any Enfield behind and easily return 70km per litre.

My first destination was the Durbar near Kushalnagar, 34km from Madikeri; back on the road, I open the little Yamaha up. The Gladiator has a big bike feel – the seat is wide and comfortable and the tank’s swooping lines are complemented by a shroud that hints at sporty air intakes; a hawkish bikini fairing houses the square headlight and the whole package is rounded off with a neat tailpiece and alloy grab rail. It shares the two universal similarities in Indian bikes: an upright riding position with high, swept handlebars and an enclosed drive-chain – practical, but not at all flattering.

The gearbox is crisp and accurate, and the 125cc engine pulls cleanly to the redline. As you’d expect, the engine needs to be worked hard – producing finger-tingling vibrations – and is least happy on the over-run when engine braking. Suspension is a basic non-adjustable fork and twin shock set-up, and does an adequate job of coping with crumbling roads while keeps the Yamaha relatively stable on fast bends. There is no electric start, but the engine fires up first kick every time. With barely 3000km on the clock, the Gladiator hadn’t been beaten into submission by the harsh riding conditions yet.

I cruise at 70kph where the road allows, slowing to pass through villages and towns where cows and dogs stray across the road and rickshaws perform sudden u-turns. The buses stop literally anywhere – in the middle of the road, on bends, blocking traffic circles ( roundabouts ) – and force everything else out of their way. On the open road, being tailgated at 50kph on a rough stretch of Tarmac by 30 tons of half-wrecked Ashoka Leyland with the horn blasting in your right ear is no fun. The Durbar is an elephant training camp on a small island in the River Kaveri. I park the Yamaha outside the Durbar Hotel (which is actually a café and has no rooms at all) and take the boat across. Elephant training seems to consist of hitting them on the shins with a bamboo pole, screaming obscenities at them and tugging violently on their ears to make them pick up logs in their trunks.

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