The Mist, The Muscle, and The Unexpected: A Weekend in the High Ranges

The air in Thrissur was still heavy and humid when the three of us met at dawn. We weren’t looking for a typical tourist trail; we were looking for the kind of stories that only happen when you leave the city behind on high-performance machines. By the time we hit the winding climbs of Adimali, the temperature had dropped, the mist had rolled in, and the true adventure began.

Munnar has a way of making you feel small, but that weekend, it decided to show us exactly who really owns those mountains.

The Charge of the Great Bison

It happened near the Lockhart Gap. The fog was so thick you could almost taste it. As we rounded a sharp, rising curve, a massive silhouette emerged from the emerald tea bushes. It was a wild Indian Bison (Gaur)—a literal wall of muscle.

Driven by a mix of adrenaline and poor judgment, we slowed down and drifted a little too close, hoping to capture the sheer scale of the beast. The bison didn’t appreciate the audience. With a sudden, heavy snort that vibrated in our chests, it lowered its massive head and charged.

There is no feeling quite like pinning the throttle when a half-ton of wild muscle is chasing your tail light. We didn't look back until we were a good kilometer away, hearts thumping louder than our engines. Rule number one of the high ranges: respect the locals.

The Goat We Couldn't Find (And the One We Did)

The next morning was dedicated to finding the famous Nilgiri Tahr. we trekked to the usual viewpoints, scanning the craggy cliffs with binoculars. Nothing. Not a single mountain goat in sight. Disappointed, we decided to head back toward our stay.

Then, the mountain gave us a gift.

Right there, on the shoulder of the main road, sat a lone mountain goat. It wasn't spooked by the hum of our bikes or the sight of three guys in riding gear. In fact, it was so calm that one of us was able to walk right up to it. In a moment of pure silence, we actually reached out and touched its coat. It was a surreal, gentle contrast to the chaos of the bison the day before.

The Midnight Glitch in the Matrix

Just when we thought the mountains were done surprising us, the night threw us a curveball. As we were heading back to our cottage after dinner, our headlights caught a flash of movement in the brush.

It was a scene straight out of a bizarre nature documentary: a porcupine, with its quills fully fanned out like a crown of spears, was actively chasing a wild boar across the clearing. The boar, despite its size and tusks, wanted nothing to do with the walking pincushion. We sat there in silence, bikes idling, watching the smallest, spikiest gladiator in Munnar win a turf war.

The Ride Home

As we descended back toward the plains of Kerala, our riding gear was coated in mountain dust and mist, but our heads were full.

Munnar isn’t just about the tea gardens or the panoramic views you see on postcards. It’s about those unscripted moments—the adrenaline of a chase, the softness of a roadside encounter, and the wild, unpredictable energy of the forest.

We returned our bikes to the hub, tired and sun-burnt, but already planning the next escape. Because once you’ve felt that kind of freedom, a normal weekend just doesn't cut it anymore.