Big Foot's Big Walkathon

There are sportspeople, there are fit people, there are outdoorsy people, and then there’s me. Happy that I wasn’t crushed to death in a near-stampede (There are no tracks in a nature trail, I learnt), I almost forgot I was supposed to join the horde! Like I said: Big Foot's Big Escapade or 'Escape'ade? Then, as if I ruled that trail, I simply walked my way through, along with a few other aunties, uncles and kids. I was going to make it a cakewalk… well, a walk, anyway. I am pretty sure, I heard my Puma running shoes groaning in disgust.

Nonchalant to the fact that this is a “run”, I simply put one big foot in front of the other, walking as slowly as you could possibly imagine. I looked right to see a rivulet gurgling past pebbles and stones. I looked left to see acres and acres of coffee plantations. I looked straight ahead and saw no participants (thanks to my amazing speed). I looked back and saw, much to my amusement, that I was on par with oldies and kids.

It was as I paused at the rivulet to watch it slithering past, gurgling away like a happy baby, that I remembered why I had signed up for that trail run at all. It was as I walked past plantations after plantations that I remembered why I had let go of my introversive instincts in the first place. It was as I let my shoes and socks get wet in a stream we were to cross, that I remembered why I had chosen to let Mother Nature get the better of me.

About forty minutes into the trail, a while before I had to climb a steep hill, a few crew members of the organisers handed out glucose packets and water. When a foodie says glucose tastes like manna from the heaven, you can imagine the extent to which their body must have dried out! Well… I don’t know about the others, but it certainly had a great impact on my energy, at least until it began wearing off as I climbed, slipping every now and then, one of the Chomakundu Hills.

I wondered if I would get to the top and back alive at all; my sweat-beads had long turned into sweat-sea. But I guess I had a writer’s gumption then: I was there in pursuit of my favourite muse – Mother Nature, and I was going to get all of her, one way or another! At the back of my mind, even as I climbed like a snail, almost on all fours, I wondered how I would describe the walk, the crawl, and the hilltop view. I had no clue; only a small voice uttered (with as much difficulty as I climbed) “breathless”. I stifled a laugh; I didn’t want the aunties and uncles around me to think the trail had unhinged me!

Once atop the hill, though, the Bilbo in me stirred and took full flight. The ‘Misty Mountains’ track, from The Hobbit movie, played in my mind. My big, ugly feet tingled, as I set my eyes upon the landscape: there she was in all her lush beauty, my Mother Nature, the one who is the ink in the pen, the rhyme in the poem, the word for this smith…

Photo credit: Sindhu Rao & Flash Bulbzz Photography

The Big Foot Review I - Coorg O Farm Homestay

A view of one of the cottages at the homestay

Some places are meant to bring out the explorer in you. Some places are meant to bring out the leisurely creature in you. And Coorg O Farm Homestay belonged to the latter category. Far far away from the humdrum of metro living, nestled amidst a coffee plantation in Coorg, this homestay is for those who want to catch up with their reading, writing, eating, walking, smelling the incessant rain and other small pleasures of life. 

Room: 4/5

Interiors of a room 

Basic, clean, neat.

With TV, large double bed, dressing mirror, attached bathroom, torch, and mosquito coil.

Food: 3/5

The homestay's dining quarters

Basic, hygienic, well-cooked.

Tomato soup, coffee and tea, and dosa are great.

Ambience: 3.5/5

A view from the porch at the room

Coffee plantation, small agricultural land.

Great for sipping on coffee and reading your favourite novel at your room’s porch.

Location: 1/5

Two attached cottages with a common porch

Not very conveniently located; most tourist places and trekking areas are far away.

If you are looking for absolute cut-off from the rest of the world, this place can be your silent haven.

Value for money: 3.5/5

A view of the plantation from the homestay's dining quarters

A room costs Rs.2,500 for a couple, and about Rs.1,700 for a solo traveller, and includes breakfast and unlimited coffee and tea. The room is very well-kept, with a good TV connection, and the bathroom has 24X7 hot water. Moreover, the porch makes for your own tranquil space at your room, with a view of the coffee plantation and the agricultural land. So, it is reasonably priced. 

A vegetarian meal costs Rs. 250, and a non-vegetarian one Rs. 300. While the food is basic at its best and well-cooked, it is a tad over-priced as the “meal” doesn’t really feel complete. Also, there is no ingenuity in the cooking; all that fresh produce from the plantation (guava and jackfruit grow in abundance at this place) is going to waste. The cooking need not be extravagant, but it can easily be special: using that produce and making some local delicacy would be a good start.

Overall rating: 3/5

The homestay is decent, with a very amicable host, Deepak, and his cooks and helping boys follow suit. It is only because of the average food and inconvenient location that I have given this homestay 3 out of 5 points. Otherwise, if the food were better, it can easily score a 4.

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The Big Foot Solitude - II

The experience of going solo is sometimes mightier and more important than the destination itself. It does not even matter if you got around to doing everything on your bucket list while at the destination; the fact that you managed a solo trip in itself can feel like a huge achievement. The top most benefit of a solo holiday is finding out that you can do it! You will find that you are stronger and more capable than you think. 

It’s what one of my freelance writers (I work as a sub-editor for an English daily) wrote in an article about the joys of solo travel.

It has struck a chord with me. I might not have made an epic journey. I might not have made a holiday worth being carried in travel magazines. I might not have made an adventurous trip. Just because I went solo, it didn’t make it a grand escapade.

But I learnt a lot from this trip. Things that I probably knew deep down, but never really considered. Things that I probably never expected to learn. Things that I probably snubbed as pish-posh, previously…

I am not afraid of being alone

Well, I have always been someone who loves solitude, as you may have gathered from my Big Foot Solitude post. But spending three nights and four days in an unfamiliar place, all alone, called for a whole new set of solitude dynamics. It meant I had to be on guard all the time. It meant I had to find something to do when I wasn’t exploring the place. It meant I was solely responsible for the schedule and planning of the trip. It meant that I was mostly in control of the outcome of the trip.

I am not afraid of the dark

Well, I knew I was never scared to walk around in the dark even when no one was home. But I never knew I wasn’t scared being alone in a room at a homestay in Coorg, even when the power was gone! I never knew I would just switch on a torch and continue reading a novel in the dead of night, when power was gone, and I could hear insects chirping away to glory amidst a coffee plantation.

I gel well with the opposite sex

Well, I have never had many guy friends and I had no clue I could actually be comfortable talking to guys while on a solo trip! It was as I sat in my short shorts and drank a couple of Breezers with the homestay host, Deepak, discussing the Game Of Thrones series, that I realised I can be friendly and unawkwardly with male acquaintances, too. I, who hides in my room when relatives come home.

I cannot afford too many solo trips

Well, following your passion means, more often than not, you don’t get to make much money. Being a writer and editor, even if it is at a leading English daily, is no way to fund your solo trips, especially when you are a compulsive money-saving freak. The room tariffs that are usually aimed at couples or groups are not very solo-travel friendly, and even when you strike a bargain, it’s not budget-friendly. And you’ve just got to eat like a pauper for fear of having no one to share your food with, and spending a bomb on it anyway!

The Big Foot Blank Page

All my life, I had believed, staunchly, that solitude is the Holy Mecca for a writer. That solitude is the Messiah of all writing prompts. That solitude is the Holy Grail for that much elusive muse. But the only thing I felt, upon placing my big feet on Coorg lands, was "blank".

I had pondered over several homestays for weeks, and had finally zeroed in on “Coorg Farm” in some area of Madikeri, called Chembebeloor. The host, himself, had offered to drive me all the way from the Mercara KSRTC Bus Station to his homestay, and I had, more than gladly, obliged. 

It was only as I slided onto his car seat, that I realised not only was I alone in an unfamiliar place, but also alone with a stranger. Oddly, I wasn’t nervous at all. I still felt only one thing: blank. And to be fair, Deepak seemed like a happy-go-lucky fellow and could have easily put any lone lady at ease with him.

As we drove past the lush fields, dense coffee plantations, and ever-winding roads, all I felt was still just that: blank. He made some friendly banter; I replied, I joked, I smiled. But within me, I was just blank. Some tiny part of my brain registered that something had changed about me in the last one week.

A silent and introvert Cancerian seemed to have put her head outside her shell suddenly, and had decided to sniff about. She sniffed about, but couldn’t quite comprehend the unfamiliarity. At least, not yet. For now, she felt blank. 

She had no urge to retreat into her shell though. Her Cancerian senses were tingling. Not from some kind of sixth sense, but from the depths of her tummy, rumbling with hunger. She wondered if the blankness was actually the emptiness of her stomach.

Upon reaching the homestay, however, the blankness took on a whole new meaning. It seemed as if Mother Nature had simply emptied my mind (and stomach) just so I could take in her splendour… Well, she certainly did make an empty page out of this writer. And so, I’m now an empty page, awaiting beautiful lines to adorn me...