Where We Camped Is a Road Now

The first board said School Bus Parking, and there were about twenty buses under it. The next said Car Parking, with about two hundred cars. After that came Bike Parking and about two hundred bikes. Anagh and I had driven out of Bangalore in February 2017 to camp somewhere the reviews called remote and people-less, and we had arrived on one of the two days in the year when everyone within a hundred kilometres came too.

Gandikota was supposed to be the quiet one. The few people who had been there told glowing stories about the fort and the canyon, and warned that food and hotels disappear once the highway ends. Everyone else in our group had better things to do that weekend, so the two of us packed tents, sleeping bags, bread, jam, Nutella and a telescope into the Polo GT.

Packing went the way it always does. We collected the tents and sleeping bags from Amal's place late the night before, along with a demo of how to pitch them and some very good food from Suparna. We got home after midnight and planned a 5 am start. We left at 8:10.

The drive made up for it. Past Nandi Hills the national highway gave way to a state highway that is still one of the best roads I have driven, and its only flaw was lunch. Nothing that looked like a place to eat showed up for hours. We slowed down at every hint of a village and sped up again right after, and finally ate just before Muddanur railway station. Eating at random places was never my strength, so I took the wheel from there to Gandikota, which was the best decision I made all day.

We parked under the Car Parking board, two kilometres short of the fort. On any other day we could have driven right up to it. We walked in with the crowd. There were police everywhere. The canyon viewpoint was breathtaking, even with that crowd in front of it. The police kept everyone inside a small roped-off patch, which was fair given the numbers, and told us nobody was allowed to stay overnight. The blaring mics explained the rest. It was the Gandikota festival.

Being basic people-haters, we walked away from the main attraction and took an immediate left into the wild. Every bush, every dry branch and anything green carried the big daddies of thorns. Our sports shoes spared us the blood but not the long sessions of pulling thorns out of them. Every step over the rocks brought more of the old fort and a better view. Then a loose stone in one of its walls nearly came down on my face, and I stopped climbing walls. We found a few places a tent could go and headed back towards the noise.

We had been told there were no overnight stays, and we stayed anyway. At the car we moved the tent into the telescope bag, which made it absurdly heavy. The counterweights and a sleeping bag went into my Bombay Trooper backpack, and we walked straight back past the police with all of it. Nobody stopped us. I may have kept pace with a local family carrying their own bags. Our way in ran right past the stage. A comedy show was on, judging by the laughter. Every face was turned towards it, so we walked along the side and out into the dark.

There was barely any light, but we found the best spot in the house, a rectangle of ground that was not all rock. Thanks to Amal's demo the tent went up without a glitch, and I set up the telescope. The disco lights and floodlights made sure I saw nothing through it. We had bread and Nutella for dinner, and Anagh climbed into his sleeping bag under the open sky, told me "Do not sleep!" and fell asleep. I tried some long-exposure photos and learned that I am bad at every form of photography.

After midnight the lights began to go off, and more stars came out for my slowly adjusting eyes. Orion was dropping towards the horizon, so I pointed the telescope at the dagger with the 15mm eyepiece. There were far more stars in it than I expected, and behind them, looking back at me, was a soft cloud of white light. The Orion Nebula. I called Anagh several times and got more snores in response.

I packed the telescope away piece by piece. Just as I was about to crawl into the tent, I saw a very red moon rising in the east. The moon filter and the 6mm eyepiece were in the bag, and I had not pointed the telescope at the moon once all night. I was too lazy to set it all up again, so I went to bed.

Morning lit the whole place in a soft, warm glow, and the two camera-challenged souls captured only what a Nexus 6P could manage. There was a DSLR hanging off my shoulder the whole trip, and that weekend I learned I had no idea how to take a picture with it. I vowed to learn. I still haven't.

We hauled the bags back to the parking ground. The night before it had held about two hundred cars. In the morning it held one, ours, sitting safe and alone in the car parking zone.

We went back in 2018, with the whole gang this time, and one year had changed the place. There were people everywhere, all the time. A massive viewing terrace stood where the rocks in our photos had been. Our rectangle of ground that was not all rock was a tarred road.

First written for an old blog in February 2017.