The thought of this ride first appeared sometime in March, while I was lazily scrolling through this year’s long weekends, trying to figure out where life could briefly pause and the road could take over.
Ever since I bought my motorcycle, Kerala had been sitting high on my list. There’s just something about that state that keeps pulling me back — the food, the warmth of its people, the culture, and above all, the overwhelming feeling of being close to nature. Every time I crossed into Kerala, life somehow felt slower, greener, softer.
But among all the places pinned on my map, one place kept winning my attention – Munnar
I would repeatedly open Google Maps, switch to satellite view, and stare at those endless folds of green mountains. The terrain looked unreal. Deep valleys. Layer after layer of ridges. Sharp curves cutting through forests.
And every single time, the same thought crossed my mind:
How mountainous can South India really get?
Surely it can’t feel anywhere close to the Himalayas… right?
Eventually, curiosity won.
So I booked a couple of hostels, packed my bags, strapped everything onto the bike, and left.
No overthinking. No elaborate planning.
Just me, the motorcycle, and a road disappearing into the Western Ghats.
Day 1 — Leaving Before The World Wakes Up
4 AM Departures and Empty Roads
Munnar was nearly a ten-hour ride away, but I didn’t want to rush through the mountains after reaching there. I wanted time — time to slow down, stop often, absorb the landscapes, and still make it to my hostel before dark.
My alarm rang at 2:30 AM. Half asleep, half excited, I went through the usual ritual — checking luggage straps, charging cables, documents, hydration, riding gear.
And then, finally, at around 4 in the morning, the engine came alive.
The city was still asleep when I rolled out. Empty roads. Silent signals. Cold air slipping through my gloves.
There’s something strangely magical about riding before sunrise. It feels like you’ve borrowed a few extra hours from the world.
Black Coffee and Dawn Thoughts
Within the first hour, I had already escaped the city.
Around 5:30 AM, I pulled over at a small roadside stop for my first break of the ride — black coffee.
Nothing fancy. Just a warm cup held against chilly dawn air.
Solo rides in the early morning hit differently. It’s just you, the motorcycle, and your own thoughts humming louder than the engine sometimes.
These quiet moments become spaces for reflection — thinking about life, plans, fears, ideas, or sometimes absolutely nothing at all. And honestly, I think that’s one of the biggest reasons I love riding.
The Golden Morning in Krishnagiri
Soon, the landscape around me began to shift as I entered the Krishnagiri region. The highway cut beautifully through rocky hills, and the early morning light had started turning from deep orange to a warm golden hue.
I parked the bike by the roadside to take a quick photograph of the scenery.
The motorcycle stood perfectly framed against massive hills behind it, while the rising sun painted everything gold. What a start to the ride!
Breakfast Stops and Passing Strangers
After riding for some time, I stopped at a small breakfast joint, ordered dosa, and ended up chatting briefly with another biker heading toward Coimbatore. One of my favorite things about road travel is how naturally conversations happen on the road. No introductions, no formalities – just two riders exchanging routes, weather updates, and a few stories before heading their separate ways.
Soon enough, breakfast was done, hydration sorted, and I was back on the saddle again. Time to munch some miles.
The Windmill Town of Udumalpet
Eventually, I reached Udumalpet — the last major town before the mountains began rising dramatically ahead.
What I didn’t expect was the windmills. Hundreds of them.
Massive white turbines stretched endlessly across the landscape, spinning lazily against dry brown hills. I had no idea Udumalpet was such a huge windmill region, and the sheer scale of it genuinely caught me off guard.
Entering the Wild: Anaimalai
Shortly after Udumalpet, the ride changed completely.
The roads narrowed into thin strips of tarmac cutting through the Anaimalai Tiger Reserve. Steep edges, sandy shoulders, blind corners — the kind of roads where you stay fully alert every second. Well the photo on your right definitely doesn’t justify what I am talking about!
And then suddenly, the mountains closed in around me.
Huge cliffs. Deep valleys. Dramatic landscapes everywhere.
This was easily one of the most cinematic forest routes I had ever ridden through.
The dry deciduous forests, combined with cloudy weather and sharp mountain terrain, gave the entire place a raw, rugged atmosphere. It felt wild. Properly wild.
Where Tamil Nadu Ends and Kerala Begins
This region sits along the border of Tamil Nadu and Kerala.
On the Tamil Nadu side, it’s called the Anaimalai Tiger Reserve. Cross over slightly, and it becomes the Chinnar Wildlife Sanctuary in Kerala.
And almost instantly, the roads changed too. Better tarmac, cleaner lanes, safer edges, smoother surfaces – Classic Kerala.
No matter how many times I ride there, Kerala’s roads rarely disappoint.
The Waterfall I Couldn’t Reach
At one point, I stopped for a quick water break beside the road and noticed a tiny waterfall far away in the valley below.
From where I stood, it looked small. But deep down I knew — if I could somehow stand beside it, it would probably feel enormous.
That’s the thing about mountains. They constantly distort your sense of scale – everything seems smaller until you get close enough to realize how insignificant you actually are.
Marayoor’s Slow Rhythm
Soon, I rolled into Marayoor.
Marayoor felt calm, quiet, unhurried.
The homes felt slower. The fields looked slower. Even the mountains surrounding the village somehow carried a softer presence.
By now, Kerala’s greenery had fully taken over the landscape, and the ride had become everything I had imagined while staring at those satellite maps months ago. Maybe even better.
Chai Amidst the Tea Plantations
And finally, the tea plantations appeared.
Rolling green hills stretched endlessly in every direction, shaped perfectly into neat textured patterns across the mountainsides.
This was the Munnar I had dreamed about.
Somewhere along the route, I stopped at a Chai Break outlet that brewed tea sourced directly from nearby plantations. There was something incredibly special about sipping hot tea while literally sitting amidst the hills where it was grown.
One cup of chai and a quick phone call with a friend later, reality kicked back in.
The sun was beginning to dip lower.
And I still had around 30 kilometers left to reach my hostel.
The View That Changed My Idea of South India
Around halfway to Munnar, I came across an open viewpoint overlooking an enormous valley.
And honestly, I wasn’t prepared for it. Rolling hills extended endlessly into the horizon. Massive mountain walls surrounding everything.
For the longest time, I had always associated landscapes like these with the Himalayas.
But standing there in Kerala, somewhere deep in the Western Ghats, I realized how wrong I had been.
Entering Munnar Town Area
A few kilometers later, I finally entered Munnar town.
Munnar was predictable – Traffic. Tourists. Shops. Chaos.
After hours spent riding through forests and mountains, I wasn’t really in the mood for crowds, so I continued toward my hostel on the outskirts instead.
But before that, fuel.
Clouds at a Petrol Pump
My bike was running low, so I took a small detour toward the nearest petrol bunk.
And somehow, that petrol station ended up being one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.
Clouds drifted right through the area while I stood there refueling the scrambler. Mountains surrounded the station from every side, and the cold evening air had fully settled in.
With a full heart and tank, I rolled out of the petrol bunk towards my stay.
Ending the Day at Zostel Munnar
By sunset, I finally rolled into Zostel Munnar.
The exhaustion hit almost immediately. But so did the warmth of hostel culture.
I met travelers from different parts of the country, celebrated a fellow solo traveler’s birthday, shared stories, exchanged itineraries, and spent the evening discussing future plans over dinner.
The café served simple home-style food — comforting after such a long day on the road, even if it was painfully expensive.
Later that night, after lubing the bike chain and prepping for the next day, I finally crashed into bed. Because tomorrow, I was heading toward a village I had been wanting to visit for a very, very long time.
Day 2 — Into the Sholas, Beyond the Maps
After the long ride from yesterday and a late night spent hanging out with fellow travelers at the hostel, waking up early was never really going to happen.
I finally crawled out of bed around 7:30 AM.
After getting ready and saying goodbye to two fellow bikers I had met at the hostel, I finally geared up and rolled out around 8:50 AM.
The plan for the day was fairly straightforward:
Ride from Munnar to Vattavada, explore the entire stretch, return back through Munnar, and then continue onward to Suriyanelli — a small village about 20 kilometers away where I had booked my stay for the next two nights.
What I didn’t know then was that this would become one of the most emotionally overwhelming and visually surreal days I had ever experienced on a motorcycle.
The Search for an Authentic Kerala Breakfast
Before properly starting the ride, I stopped at a local shop in Munnar for breakfast.
I had only one mission – Find Kappa.
A fellow local had suggested I try it — a traditional Kerala dish made from tapioca that apparently tastes incredible when paired with spicy curry. I was genuinely excited to start the day with something authentic and local.
But surprisingly, I couldn’t find a single place serving it.
Instead, most of Munnar seemed packed with multi-cuisine cafés, Arabic restaurants, tourist bakeries, and generic food chains catering to visitors.
And honestly, that disappointed me a little. It felt like tourism had slowly started replacing local identity in the town center.
Traffic, Tourists, and the Long Weekend Curse
Getting out of Munnar itself turned into a task. The long weekend rush had officially begun.
I kept hoping the roads ahead would open up once I crossed the town limits, but unfortunately, the traffic gods had other plans for me that day.
The route toward Vattavada passes through some of Munnar’s biggest tourist attractions — places like Echo Point, Mattupetty Dam, Kundala Lake, and Top Station, which attracted a lot of traffic on this route.
The Empty Corners Between the Chaos
Thankfully, every once in a while, the road would clear up. And those brief empty stretches made everything worth it.
I would stop beside the road and simply take it all in — endless rolling tea estates, sharp mountain twisties disappearing into dense eucalyptus forests, and gigantic Western Ghats peaks standing silently in the distance.
The road itself felt alive. Every corner revealed a new valley. Every ridge opened into another breathtaking landscape.
The Village That Made Me Ponder
At one particular viewpoint, I stopped after noticing a tiny village sitting quietly several meters below and away from the road.
The scene below felt almost cinematic.
Older men sat together outside homes, probably discussing life or playing cards. Farmers worked slowly in the fields. A bunch of kids chased a football across an open ground. No honking, no rush, no urgency.
Just life unfolding at its own pace.
And as I stood there watching, a strange thought crossed my mind – Maybe every kid in that village dreams of moving to a big city someday, chasing better salaries, bigger careers, and a “better” life.
And here I was – Someone already living that city life they might aspire towards, standing on the roadside trying to romanticize their reality instead.
A slower, quieter life. A life untouched by traffic, pollution, deadlines, and endless notifications.
It made me realize how humans constantly chase what they don’t have. Maybe peace itself is relative.
Kerala Coffee in the Middle of Tea Country
As the ride continued, I found myself once again surrounded by rolling hills completely covered in tea plantations.
Ironically, all I wanted at that moment was coffee. And somehow, at the perfect time, I found the perfect roadside stall!
I stopped expecting basic instant coffee — especially considering how touristy the route had been till now. But the shop owner surprised me with fresh Kerala coffee.
And man…it tasted incredible. That small cup of coffee genuinely became one of my favorite moments of the day.
Entering the Shola World
Soon, I reached the entrance of Shola National Park — beyond which lay Vattavada.
I had to register my name and vehicle details at the checkpost before entering. The forest officials reminded me to return before 6 PM.
As soon as I entered, I was riding through dense forests that felt straight out of a rainforest documentary. Thick vegetation closed in around the road from every side. The air became cooler and the place just turned wilder.
I found Grasslands!
And then came the moment that completely shattered my understanding of South Indian geography. A few kilometers later, the rainforest-like forests suddenly opened into rolling grasslands surrounded by pine trees.
I genuinely couldn’t believe what I was looking at. It looked like some place straight out of the valleys of Himachal Pradesh.
Vattavada and the Disappearing Authenticity
Finally, I entered Vattavada — the famous agricultural village of Idukki district known for its cool climate and vegetable farming.
The region grows an incredible variety of crops — carrots, cabbage, garlic, potatoes, beans, strawberries, oranges, plums, and several other vegetables and fruits that thrive in its unique climate.
But surprisingly, Vattavada was much busier than I had imagined – Cafés, Tourists, Souvenir shops, Multi-cuisine restaurants.
I wanted to experience something more local. So I did what every curious rider eventually does – I kept riding beyond where Google Maps seemed interested. Because that’s where the real adventure lies.
Beyond the Tourist Map
As I exited the main Vattavada stretch, the crowd slowly disappeared and the roads became quieter.
Soon, I entered a tiny village called Kottakamboor — perched beautifully along steep hillsides with narrow concrete roads. Eventually, the concrete roads disappeared completely – they became rocky stone paths. Before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of nowhere – but this was exactly what I had been searching for. I sat there quietly for a while, having a protein bar and soaking in the stillness around me.
Returning Through Worlds
Reality eventually kicked back in. I still had nearly 80 kilometers left to reach Suriyanelli, and the day was already slipping away fast.
So I turned back. Retracing the route felt like traveling through multiple worlds again – From remote mountain trails to grasslands, grasslands into rainforest-like shola forests and finally, Sholas back into rolling tea estates.
Every section carried a completely different personality.
The search for authentic food continues
By the time I finally reached Munnar town again, I was exhausted and starving, thanks to all those traffic choke points.
I had desperately wanted a proper Kerala-style meal — flaky parottas with spicy chicken curry. But every authentic-looking restaurant I found was overflowing with people.
And hunger eventually wins over ideals – so I settled for shawarma at a relatively less crowded Arabic restaurant.
And honestly? After that long ride, it tasted heavenly.
Ten Thousand Kilometers
After lunch, it was finally time to ride toward my stay for the next two nights — a plantation hostel in the village of Suriyanelli.
But before that, a big moment awaited – my bike was about to roll into it’s 10,000th kilometer! Ten thousand kilometers in just eleven months of ownership.
And somehow, standing there on the beautiful NH-85 amidst drizzly weather and mountain air, it hit me hard. I mean, Really hard.
Those weekend rides near Bengaluru, my first long ride into the Nilgiris, chasing golden sunsets along the Konkan coast, tracing the Western Ghats from Coorg to Wayanad, the people I met, the stories I collected – the version of myself I slowly became along the way.
I genuinely cried inside my helmet.
Because somewhere along those ten thousand kilometers, this motorcycle had become much more than just a machine – It had become freedom.
Riding Into Suriyanelli
I continued riding towards Suriyanelli through some of the most beautiful landscapes I had witnessed on the trip so far.
Endless tea estates rolled across the hills while giant mountains towered in the distance, with tiny waterfalls streaming down their slopes thanks to the evening drizzle. At that point, I was already overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the place, so I stopped taking detours and simply rode on, wanting to soak it all in before sunset.
Soon, I arrived at the quiet village of Suriyanelli, nestled amidst tea plantations and known as the base for Kolukkumalai.
A Night Without Plans
The hostel instantly felt warm and welcoming — I met travelers from different parts of the country, spent the evening playing Uno, jamming to music, sharing stories, and talking about life.
Unlike the rest of the trip, I had no concrete plans for the next day. I had almost decided to skip the crowded Kolukkumalai sunrise and simply relax with my new hostel friends instead.
So that night, I went to sleep expecting a slow day ahead — completely unaware that the next morning would turn into one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life.
Day 3 — The Day that planned itself
Yes, you read that right. And trust me, life carves out better stories that your plans will ever do. Anyways, moving on…
A Morning That Refused to Hurry
The third day began exactly the way I had imagined it would – slow.
No alarms, no sunrise chase, no rushing to beat crowds.
Just a relaxed mountain morning with some hot coffee and an omelette for breakfast. I ended up spending the morning with Dhwanya and Meet – two brothers from Kochi whom I had met at the hostel. Absolutely lovely people. The kind of conversations that don’t feel forced at all — stories flowing naturally, random jokes, travel talk, life talk.
Before we realized it, a good couple of hours had disappeared. And somehow, it was already past 10 AM.
The receptionist’s suggestion
Dhwanya and Meet had to head back to Kochi by 3 PM and didn’t have a vehicle to explore around, so the idea of going somewhere together quietly faded away.
As for me? I had no clue what to do.
The original thought was to visit “Door of Heaven” — a scenic route hidden away somewhere beyond Munnar. But after the tourist madness of the previous day, I honestly wasn’t feeling brave enough to willingly walk into another crowd trap.
So I decided to do what every confused traveler eventually does – ask a local.
I walked up to the hostel receptionist and asked: “Any underrated place nearby? Somewhere peaceful?”
Without thinking twice, he said: “Go to Chathurangapara. Windmills. You’ll love it.”
I opened Google Maps – 35 kilometers away – perfect. I quickly stitched together a small 80-kilometer circuit via Rajakkad with a bunch of internal mountain roads thrown in – plan was ready!
The Stranger Who Changed The Day
Just when I was about to leave, I spotted another biker nearby, gearing up beside his motorcycle. Out of curiosity, I walked up and said hi.
Turns out, he was heading to Vattavada — the exact place I had explored yesterday.
I laughed.
“Brother… bad timing. It’ll be packed.”
He instantly looked disappointed. “Not in the mood for traffic either”, he asked:
“So where are you headed?”
I told him about Chathurangapara.
His face lit up. “Bro, I’m in.”
And just like that, ten minutes after meeting, we decided to ride together. Honestly, life is weird like that. One random hello to a stranger and suddenly your solo ride becomes a shared adventure.
His name was Chaitanya, by the way. And this was the first time I was voluntarily going on a ride with someone I had literally just met.
Exciting? Yes.
Slightly questionable life decision? Also yes.
But the stories are almost always in the detours, right? Coming to stories, lets continue…
The Detour That Almost Didn’t Happen
We geared up and started riding toward Poopara, where we planned to leave NH-85 and head toward Chathurangapara through internal roads. But barely a few kilometers into the ride, I noticed something interesting on Google Maps – A reservoir nearby, named Anayirankal Dam.
I was still debating whether it was worth wasting time on when suddenly Chaitanya pulled over.
“We should definitely go.”
That was enough convincing. Off we went. Even a local nearby casually told us there wasn’t much to see.
The moment we reached the reservoir, both of us just paused. This did not feel like India.
Cows peacefully feeding by the lakeside. Calm waters stretching endlessly into the mountains. Cold breeze brushing against us. Birds chirping somewhere nearby.
It looked ridiculously cinematic. Almost European. We sat beside the lake. Talked about life, swapped stories – got to know each other a little better. And somehow, for two people who had met barely an hour ago, conversation came surprisingly easy.
Lunch, Fuel, and Road Stories
Eventually, we got moving again. And somewhere over lunch, the stories started flowing – past rides, crazy road incidents, beautiful places, near disasters
That’s one thing I absolutely love about fellow travelers. You may be complete strangers, but somehow their stories instantly make conversations feel familiar.
Like you’ve known each other longer than reality suggests.
Riding Beneath Giants
Eventually, we reached Chathurangapara View Point. I expected windmills. That’s it. Maybe a nice view.
Take a couple of photos, leave. But man…
I was not prepared.
The windmill farm sat dramatically on the ridge of the mountains — right where Kerala’s lush hills suddenly collapsed into Tamil Nadu’s dry plains.
And somehow…We were riding directly underneath these gigantic wind turbines. Like right underneath them. The scale felt unreal – massive spinning blades slicing through the sky above us.
On one side, lush green Kerala. On the other — dry, endless Tamil Nadu plains. And all of it visible in crazy 360-degree views. I had genuinely never witnessed geography change so dramatically in one frame. It felt like standing between two worlds.
The wind there was absolutely violent – No surprises there. The turbines clearly knew what they were doing.
We parked our motorcycles, sat down for a bit, and just soaked it all in. Talking absolutely random things.
And somewhere during the conversation, I found out: It was Chaitanya’s birthday.
Honestly? What a ridiculously cool way to spend your birthday – spending time with yourself to reflect on your past year and plan your next – made me consider that for my next birthday!
And then the rains began
Soon, the weather started changing – dark clouds rolled in. The wind grew stronger. So I quickly put on my rain gear.
And wow – Perfect timing. Minutes after leaving the windmill farm, it started raining. But thankfully, not aggressively – just enough drizzle. The perfect kind.
Enough to make the ride feel magical, not ruin it.
The roads turned darker. The forests smelled richer. The mountains slowly disappeared into mist. And suddenly, Kerala switched into full cinematic mode. It honestly felt like the weather had been handcrafted specifically for us. No wonder they call this place God’s Own Country.
Twisties Through the Rainforest
We continued riding toward Rajakkad through endless twisties cutting across the rainforests of Idukki – Absolute madness. Perfect roads, dense greenery, cool weather, endless corners – just the kind of roads that make you grin inside your helmet.
The more I ride through Kerala, the more impossible it becomes for me to rank any other place above it for motorcycle trips.
The combination of roads and scenery here is simply unfair.
The Field That Made Us Stop
Rajakkad itself was never really the destination. It was just an anchor point. From there, we started heading back toward Suriyanelli through a completely different route.
And somewhere in between, a massive open stretch of farmland glowing bright green beneath towering mountains just popped up.
We didn’t even discuss stopping.
We parked our bikes and just stood there silently for a bit, taking it all in – the mountains, the fields, the quietness.
Finally, Kerala Parotta
On the way back, I finally achieved something I had been unsuccessfully trying to do since Day 1 – Kerala parotta and chicken curry.
At last. And man…worth every second of waiting – it was exactly what I needed in that moment.
One Last Hostel Evening
Back at the hostel, things had changed again – some familiar faces had left, some new ones had arrived, a few stayed back.
I made a couple of new friends – we hung out for a while, shared stories, laughed over random conversations, and slowly settled into the evening.
But unlike the previous nights, I decided to sleep early. Because tomorrow was going to be a long ride back to Bengaluru.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I already knew: This beautiful little mountain chapter was slowly coming to an end.
And just like that, the final morning arrived.
I woke up, packed my bags one last time, exchanged goodbyes with all the beautiful people I had met over the last few days, and geared up beside my motorcycle as the mountains slowly came alive around me.
There’s always something bittersweet about leaving a place that unexpectedly becomes a small part of you. Munnar gave me far more than scenic roads and beautiful landscapes — it gave me stories, strangers who became friends, moments of stillness, and memories that somehow already felt nostalgic on the ride back.
And as the engine came alive one final time, I wasn’t really leaving with just kilometers behind me — I was leaving with a fuller heart. Untill next time!
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