Coorg isn’t the kind of place you “visit.” It’s the kind of place that wraps around you like a warm blanket. My friends and I learned this the hard way—or maybe the best way—during our four-day escape from Bangalore’s chaos. Here’s how it unfolded.
Day 1: Broken Roads and Butter Chicken
We left Bangalore at dawn, squished into a rented Innova with backpacks and bad jokes. The drive was all potholes and pit stops—masala dosa in Mysore, endless debates about Bollywood, and one forgotten toothpaste tube. By afternoon, Google Maps led us down a muddy lane in Chettalli to our homestay: a little wooden cottage on a 10-acre farm. The owner, Mr. Joshi, waved us in with a grin. “Watch out for monkeys,” he warned. “They’ll steal your snacks faster than your ex.”
The cottage smelled like rain and old wood. From the porch, we stared at coconut trees swaying like drunk dancers. That night, we ate at Ruchi Corner, a tiny restaurant with butter chicken so good we licked the gravy bowl. Back at the homestay, we met the real boss: Tommy, a golden retriever who followed us everywhere, even during midnight bathroom trips.
Day 2: Cars, Cows, and a Golden Buddha
Day two began at a rusty shed called the Vintage Car Museum. We paid ₹100 to gawk at a dusty 1920s Rolls Royce and a Ford that looked like it survived a war. The caretaker, an uncle with a betel-stained smile, said, “These cars have seen more of India than you ever will.”
Next stop: Chiklihole Reservoir. The water was low, but the views? Like a postcard. We climbed the dam, dodging cow patties, and took 100 photos of the same sunset. Lunch was at the Golden Temple in Bylakuppe, where giant golden Buddhas made us feel tiny. The floor was a mess of shoes—like a railway station during rush hour. Pro tip: Wear sandals you can kick off fast.
Evening brought us to Mocha Tree Café, a fancy spot where our ₹300 milkshake tasted like regret. “But the Wi-Fi’s free!” said Priya, my friend, while uploading a reel of her shaking hips near a coffee plant.
Day 3: Mud, Mountains, and Maggi Nights
Mandalpatti Peak was our big adventure. Jeep drivers tried to scare us: “You’ll collapse if you walk!” We hiked anyway, slipping on mud and laughing like idiots. The hills were straight out of a fairy tale—green slopes, mist hugging the trees, and zero cell signal. Perfect.
At the top, we found… more fog. “We walked four hours for this?” groaned Rohan. But the hike itself—the giggles, the shared water bottle, the photo of Arjun face-planting in mud—was the real magic.
That night, Tommy sat with us as we cooked Maggi on a campfire. Mr. Joshi joined, telling stories about Coorg’s spice traders. “Land changes, but stories stay,” he said, sipping chai. We fell asleep to crickets singing.
Day 4: Elephants, Rapids, and Goodbyes
Our last morning started at Dubare Elephant Camp. We watched elephants splash in the river, their chains clinking. It felt bittersweet—like watching a king forced to do chores. “Tourism feeds them, but…,” whispered Neha, trailing off.
For thrills, we rafted the Barapole River. The rapids were tame, but screaming as we hit mini waves was worth every rupee. Dinner was Maggi (again) on Mr. Joshi’s porch, under stars so bright they could’ve been fake.
Why Coorg Stays With You
Coorg isn’t about checklists. It’s Tommy napping on your feet. It’s the smell of wet earth after rain. It’s getting lost on a dirt road and finding a waterfall you can’t pronounce. You don’t “do” Coorg—you let it happen to you.
P.S. Carry bandaids, extra socks, and a heart ready to slow down. And if you see Tommy, give him a biscuit from me.
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