The Return of the Sparrow and Dom Perignon at 35000 Feet

You don’t see sparrows any more in Bangalore. At least in the city, you don’t. I first noticed this during my morning runs in Cubbon Park, where the House Crow, the Common Mynah and the Pariah Kite seem to be the dominant bird species. I frequently hear the call of the Koel, and when I try I can see the bird itself, hidden deep in the foliage of a tree. Koels are partial to figs, so standing under a tree of the Ficus family in fruit reliably yields Koel sightings. I can also hear the call of the Coppersmith Barbet, which, like the Koel, can be spotted on any Ficus tree in fruit. Other birds that I see fairly regularly in Cubbon Park are the White-Cheeked Barbet, the Brahminy Kite and some Kingfishers. The bird I don’t see at all any more is the humble little House Sparrow. The sight and sound of sparrows is a memory from my early childhood, so I felt the loss.

Imagine my surprise then, at hearing the familiar sound of sparrows at a most unlikely place – the terminal building of the new Bangalore International Airport. The bright, cheerful chirping provided a nice contrast to the unceasing PA announcements that one hears at all airports. Gazing up at the roof, I spotted several sparrows flying about. I noted with relief that there were no ceiling fans in the terminal building, so the birds could fly safely within the building. Significantly, there were no other bird species (or none that I spotted) within the building. This means that the little birds can live and nest in safety from predators. The only potential threat to their continued existence in the building is if an intolerant airport administrator decides to rid the building of the birds, which I hope does not happen. It seems that the least we can do to compensate for making the environment insupportable for the birds is to provide a safe haven for them where we can. This may result in the occasional bird dropping on a traveler (perhaps requiring an expensive jacket to be dry-cleaned), but it seems such a small price to pay for the pleasure of seeing the lovely little creatures back. I sat watching the birds until it was time to board the flight to Mumbai.

Jet Airways was nice enough to upgrade me to business class on the flight from Mumbai to San Francisco, even though I had one expired upgrade voucher out of the required number of six. As expected, the flight crew were friendly and attentive. Dom Perignon at 35000 feet is a tough companion to beat. Bill Bryson came a close second with Mother Tongue. Flying business class is such a luxury these days. The company I work for is not very profitable, so all air travel is only coach class. Business class is an order of magnitude more comfortable that coach class, as a result of which you arrive at your destination fresh and raring to go. I am looking forward to the time when we will retire the red ink and get out the black ink, so that relative luxuries like business class for long plane journeys is back. Until then, I will save up those upgrade vouchers jealously so I can cherish the occasional company of Dom Perignon at 35000 feet. Speaking of which, it is time to top up the glass again.

Breakfast in Lalbagh

Morning walks in Lalbagh Garden in Bangalore are a pleasure. The ideal time to reach Lalbagh is around a half hour before sunrise. On a clear morning, one then has several options from where to watch the sun rise. A favorite spot of mine is on the bridge across the Lalbagh Lake, from where one catch a glorious sunrise. The warm rays of the early morning sun hit the bridge and the trees lining the perimeter of the lake, making for a glorious sight. That said, there is hardly a bad walk in Lalbagh, with multiple trails to wonder through, gazing at different trees and the fauna they attract.

One early morning after a run in Lalbagh (there is an excellent 2 mile loop in Lalbagh, and a mile loop around the lake), I fetched my camera from the car. I headed towards the lake intending to take pictures of the bird life the lake attracts. As I got into position to photogragh some pond herons, I spied a sudden movement from the side of my eye. I could see something on a lily pad, but I was not able to discern any details with the naked eye. Strapping on an 80-400mm Nikkor on my D200, I focused in the direction of the lily pad, and saw a snake trying to subdue a fish it had probably just caught. Getting into position for a good shot was not easy with a chain link fence in the way, but placing the camera on a tripod, I stood on my toes, and shot off a bunch of exposures. I must have stood there for around twenty minutes, taking pictures of the snake gradually subduing its writhing prey. By now a crowd had gathered around me, with some keen eyed people spotting the activity, and excited pointing it out to others. Probably disturbed by the noise and the activity, the snake dived underwater with the fish still only partially ingested. I stood there for a few more minutes, hoping to spot the snake again, probably on a different lily pad, but the snake had probably sought out a quieter corner of the lake to finish its breakfast in relative peace.

I posted an image from the morning on an online nature forum, where the snake was identified as a Checkered Keelback.

Contact Lost

It was around 5:30AM on February 1, 2003. I was in my car, headed for the Tilden Regional Park in Berkeley, California for a morning trail run. I was glad to be awake and looking forward to the run. Unbeknownst to me, Columbia had begun her final descent towards Earth a few minutes ago. If all went well, she would touch down in Cape Canaveral in an hour or so. I had been following Columbia’s mission STS-107, not because of its mission objectives, but because astronaut Kalpana Chawla was of Indian origin, and a huge fan of my favorite band, Deep Purple. She had selected Space Truckin' and The Aviator from the Deep Purple canon as wakeup songs on her shifts. Kalpana’s husband, JP Harrison, published a regular log of Mission STS-107 on Deep Purple singer Ian Gillan’s web site, so we were kept abreast of all events leading up the mission, and the mission itself. Although I didn’t know Kalpana personally, she already seemed like a friend, and I followed Mission STS-107 as keenly as I could.

I was somewhere on the freeway, headed for Berkeley, when Columbia disintegrated over the Earth's atmosphere, bringing about an abrupt end to her mission. After I reached the park, I strapped on my chest pouch, which contained my trusty Nikon and a couple of lenses. Tripod in hand, I headed out on Tilden’s trails. It was a wonderful, crisp morning. The fresh morning air filling the lungs with each breath felt delicious. As I ran, I saw another day dawn. Mother Nature played out her daily ritual, unfurling a breathtaking light show in the eastern skies. It reaffirmed why I loved Tilden’s trails as much as I did, and why I felt such a deep, almost spiritual affinity to it. During the latter half of my run, I spotted a wild flower growing by the side of the Seaview Trail, which I stopped to photograph. After running a couple of hours, I reached my car exhausted, and when I switched on the radio, the tragic news of the Columbia disaster was on National Public Radio. Although I still remember reading newspaper reports on the Challenger disaster many years ago, and being shocked by it, the Columbia loss somehow seemed very personal. On the drive back home from Berkeley, Kalpana’s radiant smile kept flashing in my mind. I felt like I’d lost a friend.

When I got back the processed film roll from my morning run, the picture of the wild flower stood out on the light box. A personal memory of the morning when Columbia fell, it is my humble tribute to Kalpana and her brave comrades.

Bangalore Ultra Dec 16, 2007 - 26K Run Report

Photo credit: Bob Van Zant

After running the Kaveri Trail Half Marathon with the excellent Runners For Life (RFL) group, I was sure that I wanted to run in the first Bangalore Ultra in December. I was tempted to register for the 52K event, but I reminded myself that my last marathon was in June 2004 (I ran the Big Sur International Marathon in California that year), which surely qualified me as an ex-marathoner. 2007 had also been a modest running year for me with less than 700 miles logged, with the longest run being the half marathon distance, so I was hardly in shape to push myself for the 52K event. So I signed up for the 26K event, which I was confident I would do comfortably.

Race day saw me headed out of home at 4:15 in the morning, headed for Cubbon Park. From here we were to be bussed to Our Native Village, a rustic resort in Hasseraghatta, which was where the race was to start from. The bus ride was bumpy enough that getting a snooze in during the ride was impossible. At 6:00 AM the bus stopped a little short of the venue, and we could make out the dim outlines of the 52K+ runners start their race. Some of them would probably be on the trail for most of the day, running 52K, 78K or even 104K – inspiring stuff! At the venue, the RFL guys had things under control, with an efficient staff guiding us through the usual pre-run routine. It was a cool morning, and some of us stretched and warmed up. With ten minutes to go for the 7:00 AM start, we were corralled into the starting area, where Arvind Krishnan (A1) made a few stirring comments about the upcoming run. He introduced Dinesh – a 71-year old runner, who was going to run 26K. The two RFL Arvinds (A1 and A2) had pulled an all-nighter, but were going to run their 52K as planned. These guys had organized the best race I have experienced in the country; over the past weeks and months they had fretted and sweated over the smallest details, and worked their tails off to put up a perfect race for all of us. Yet here they were, after a full night's toil, all ready to hit the trails – amazing guys!

Here’s an example of a small detail – a couple of minutes before the start, the DJ played “We Will Rock You” by Queen over the sound system to pump up the runners – if that start doesn’t rock a race, nothing else will. The course - changed at the insistence of the Bangalore cops at the last minute - was an out-and-back 13K, so we were to do two loops to complete our planned distance of 26K. There were three aid stations in each 6.5K leg, which meant that we could expect plenty of support during the run. Promptly at the stroke of 7, off we went, the 100+ 26K runners, and a smattering of 52K+ runners. The course was mostly dirt track, and passed through lovely country with picture postcard kind of views. It was a cool and cloudy morning, which is great for distance running. The aid stations were well stocked with water, Gatorade, biscuits, peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, fruits and other assorted stuff. The volunteers at the aid stations were encouraging and attentive to the needs of the runners. It was easy to see that A1/A2 weren’t kidding when they said that all their planning was done with the simple premise that the runner was king. A little beyond the 6.5K aid station where we made a U-turn to head back, my stomach started to feel uneasy. By the time I reached the aid station closest to the starting point, I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and I knew that I would have to make a pit stop at the starting point. I reached the starting point (which was also the halfway point for the run) at 1:25, and dived into the restroom promptly. Emerging a few minutes later - a changed man - I headed back onto the course for Lap 2. It was much better this time, and I found myself picking up the speed a bit. Some ways into the course I saw Rajesh Vetcha running the opposite way – he was doing the 52K – and when he neared, Rajesh commanded me to do an extra loop. If ever there was a run where you wanted to push your boundaries, then this had to be it - everything about the run was perfect – the course, the weather, the support crew, and the other runners, who were constantly egging each other on. I decided that I would do an extra loop assuming that nothing untoward happened during the rest of the run. At the 6.5K turnaround point for the second time now, I was feeling strong, so I decided to step up the pace some more. With 3K to go, I speeded a tad more, and got to the finish line in 2:39 for 26K. Although I had not set myself a timing goal, I was pleased with the time, and even happier that I was fresh enough to go for another 13K lap, after a quick change of T-shirt.

The extra lap was even more fun than the first two. I walked and ran my way through the lovely course and chatted with known faces, including the awesome A’s. The sun had begun to peek out of the clouds, so I made sure to get enough Gatorade at every aid station to avoid cramping. It was great to see that there were still plenty of runners on the course. I finished the extra 13K lap in 1:50. After briefly toying with the idea of doing another 3K, in order to have run a marathon distance, I opted instead for a chilled beer. I thought I’d done enough to earn a beer that morning by running 39K. The chilled beer with friends – Ninad, Dinesh and Abnash – was perfect, like everything else that morning. We even got called on stage a little later to be given our medals and timing certificates, something I would normally avoid, but which seemed so natural that morning.

On the ride back, it occurred to me that the last time I had such a warm and fuzzy glow after a run was when I was driving back home from Monterey after running the Big Sur Marathon in April 2004. That had been such an unforgettable running experience and I remember thinking that if someone could bottle that feeling, they would deserve the millions they would make. The Bangalore Ultra experience was every bit as good as the Big Sur experience. The fine, fine people at RFL put their everything into organizing India’s first Ultra, and gave us runners something we will cherish for a long time. Now if only they could find a way to bottle this feeling…

Kaveri Trail Half Marathon - Nov 18, 2007 - A Report

It was close to 6:00 on Sunday morning when I drove out of the apartment complex I live in on Bannerghatta Road in Bangalore. The pre-dawn glow was already on the eastern sky. I had been told to budget 2.5 hours for the drive from Bangalore to Srirangapatna - a distance of around 130 km - where the Kaveri Trail Half Marathon was to start at 9:00 AM. I learnt about the run thanks to a chance meeting with a seasoned Hasher in Cubbon Park during the week. I used to run with the Bangalore Hash regularly, until work schedules, travel and my photography projects made getting out for weekends runs difficult. Abnash, the Hasher I ran into, talked me into running the half marathon distance with his descriptions of the trail. The race was being organized by the Bangalore Hash in conjunction with Runners For Life (RFL), another running group with whom I had run a couple of times in Bangalore. I was well aware that both groups put up fine runs, and their coming together would probably result in a special run. I was hooked; I decided that I would run the Kaveri Trail half that weekend.

Getting onto Mysore road, I was encouraged to see light traffic on the road. I was able to do 90 kmph in some stretches, which meant that I was doing good on time. At just past 8:00 AM, I pulled into the parking lot of the Fort View Resort in Srirangapatna, from where I was told we would be bussed to the starting line. A quick toilet break later, I was on the bus with a load of enthusiastic runners, headed towards the starting point.

After registering at the starting point, I waited with a couple of dozen runners for the 9:00 AM start time. We were told that a bus bringing runners from Bangalore was late, possibly delaying the start time. It was starting to get warmer while we were waited. Soon the front runners of the Full Marathon came into view. The full marathon course was the same as the half marathon course, except that the full marathoners ran the course twice. The course itself was an out-and-back, measuring 10.5 km one way. The full marathoners had started their run at 7:30 AM, and were heading into what was for them the halfway point. They looked in superb shape. It was inspiring to see these guys looking strong and clearly ready to tear into the second half of their run.

We finally started our run at around 9:40 AM. It was fairly warm now, so I decided to take it easy in the first half, and pace the second half depending on how strong I was feeling at the halfway point. We were running on a levy, with a canal running along one side. On the other side there were fields, some growing sugarcane. Running on the levy, I was reminded of the Led Zeppelin classic “When The Levee Breaks”. The song kept playing in my head, and I fell into something of a rhythm to Bonzo’s hypnotic drumming. The trail of packed earth made running easier on the knees. There was some tree cover, but not nearly enough. Although warm, it was still a beautiful day to be outdoors. The air was clean and fresh, unlike anything in Bangalore. I was reminded of the trails in the Coyote Creek Regional Park in Fremont, California, where I used to head out for my long runs when training for a marathon. I reached the marked 3 km point in 18 minutes, which meant that I was running slightly faster than I intended, so I slowed the pace a little. The aid station at the 5.5 km mark was well stocked. After a short break, it was back on the trail again. A little further on, I tripped on a rock and took a tumble. A couple of runners in front of me ran back to help me, but other than a few scratches I was fine. The heat of the day was starting to tell on me and some other runners as well. The next aid station was just short of the 10 km mark. At this point, the trail got a little tricky. First we had to go ahead a half a kilometer on the same trail then make a U-turn back towards the aid station. This was followed by a brief detour towards a temple towards the right, and back to the aid station after making a U-turn just ahead of the temple. Then we had to repeat the first loop one more time, before getting back to the aid station, and returning in the direction we came. At the end of the loops, my stopwatch indicated 1:15. I figured that a 2:30 finish would be respectable, given the conditions.

I downed a couple of glasses of water and poured some water on my head, neck and shoulders. It would be 5 km before the next aid station and it was now uncomfortably hot, so I would need all the help I could get to stay cool. I felt strong enough to pick up the pace a bit. I was now passing other half-marathoners consistently, although my pace could hardly be described as frenetic. Reaching the first aid station again (now 5.5 km from the finish) was a great relief. Pouring some more water on myself, I hit the trail again, counting down the km markers to the finish, which seemed to get agonizingly further apart as I neared the end. By the time I reached the mark telling me that I was 1 km from the finish line I was totally spent. The last kilometer was probably the most difficult one I have run – it seemed interminably long. Other than my knees which were hurting now from the strain of placing every step, I could feel the onset of cramps in my leg muscles. After what seemed like an hour, I finally saw the finish line, and crossed it in 2:19:04. Not my fastest half (my PR for a half is 1:58:17), but I was happy to have endured what I thought was a challenging run.

Back at the Fort View Resort, I had a quick lunch and a warm beer (not by choice, mind you), following which it was time to head the 130 km back to Bangalore. I didn’t really mind the drive, as I had just participated in a terrific experience. The Bangalore Hash and RFL had collaborated to put up a brilliant run. The trail was fantastic, and the standard of organizing and attention to detail were world class. This was truly a run by runners, for runners. Thank you BH3 and RFL!

Letter from Goa - The Baga South Run

The first time I did the "Baga South" run in Goa was on a Saturday afternoon in March 2006. Having slammed more than a few beers the previous night over live music at the Cavala Beach Resort on Baga Beach, I woke up on Saturday morning with a hangover from hell. A dose of Tylenol helped somewhat, but a stroll on Baga Beach convinced me that what I really needed in order to feel better was a nice long run.

A little while later, I was at the north end of Baga Beach, right by a creek that flows into the sea. The stretch of beach looked inviting, and off I went barefoot, headed southwards. This was my first barefoot run, and it was a lovely feeling, running on the soft sands. It was a warm afternoon, but the sea breeze coming in kept me cool. Within a mile or so from the north end of Baga Beach, I ran into vast crowds at Calangute Beach – the scene reminding me of Juhu Beach in the evenings (I have fond memories of Juhu Beach – many years ago I used to meet the girl I was madly in love with for dinner at a restaurant right on Juhu Beach – happily she is now my wife). Further south the crowds thinned, and I settled into something of a rhythm, although the varying textures of the sand meant that keeping the same pace for more than a couple of minutes was difficult. About 45 minutes into the run, I ran past the “River Princess”, a ship that had run aground – I didn’t know it at the time, and remember wondering how such a big boat could be anchored so close to shore. At roughly the 55-minute mark I saw that the beach dead-ended in a stone wall. I made a U-turn a little short of the wall, running north now towards Baga Beach.

When I finally reached the north end of Baga, I was quite spent. Crawling into a shack, I ordered two bottles of Limca, which I dispatched speedily. I asked the waiter the distance to the other end of the beach, and he shrugged his shoulders and said something like, “I don’t know, but it must be 4-5 kilometers.” I could scarcely believe it, since I had been running for just short of 2 hours, and although it had been a plod through the beach, my own reckoning was that I had run at least 8 miles. The waiter, clearly unimpressed with my estimate, pooh-poohed it and repeated quite emphatically that the distance couldn’t be more than 5 kilometers. Jesus – was I disappointed! My reaction must have been apparent, because it elicited a chuckle from a guy at the next table. He offered to buy me a drink, which I had to decline, because I couldn’t bear the thought of more alcohol after the previous night’s binge drinking. I told him that he could pay for my Limcas, but it was now his turn to refuse, on the grounds that a Limca didn’t qualify as a legitimate drink in his book. My kind of guy! We struck up a brief conversation over a drink – he nursing a Gimlet, and me on my third Limca, during which I found out that he was an Englishman who had settled in Goa some years ago. He ran a business helping people invest in property there. He lived on an island on the Mandovi River, and had come to spend the day at Baga Beach with his lovely family. After thanking him for his offer to buy me a drink, I left for the hotel exhausted and a little disappointed that all I could log for that afternoon’s run was 10 kilometers. I was sure that the course was longer, but to prove it I would have to repeat the run on another trip with my GPS watch.

Well, my turn came a little less than a year later in February 2007, when I spent three days in North Goa. Equipped with a Garmin Forerunner GPS watch, I eagerly reached the north end of Baga Beach at 9:00 AM on a lovely Saturday morning. With the vast, open skies over Baga Beach, the Forerunner had no trouble acquiring satellite lock, unlike in Bangalore where it usually has a devil of a time finding the orbiting GPS satellites through tree cover and high-rises. The run itself was enormous fun, with the cool sea breeze compensating for the warmth of the day and no hangover to deal with. As expected I ran into the teeming crowds at Calangute Beach a little over a mile into the run, where I had to weave and dodge my way through masses of sunbathers, beach soccer, beach cricket and beach volleyball enthusiasts, apart from the occasional Yamaha Waverunner water jet skis that came hurtling onto the beach at near supersonic speeds with their grinning occupants clearly enjoying the high speed thrills. Even on quieter stretches the running was not always easy; at some places the sand was firm, so that I could pick up the pace a bit, while on other stretches, my feet sank into the soft, wet sand, slowing me down to a crawl. Still, running barefoot on a beach with the waves lapping at your heels beats running in the city every time. A little further south from the marooned “River Princess”, the Forerunner showed that I had already crossed the 4-mile mark, with a half mile of beach still to go. At the stone wall at the end of the beach, my Forerunner read 4.60 miles. Fantastic – so I’d been right after all in my reckoning a year ago! Touching the stone wall, I headed back towards Baga Beach, finishing the entire run in 1:49:52, before collapsing onto an inviting chair at the Shining Star shack on Baga Beach. The Forerunner had logged 9.18 miles. Treating myself to twin Limcas again, I celebrated some more with a Daiquiri, a bowl of fresh watermelon, an Aloo Paratha, a couple of cans of Diet Coke and a hot cup of tea to round out a motley, but hugely satisfying breakfast.

The day was gorgeous. The beach looked enchantingly beautiful. Stretched on a beach chair with a full belly, a perfect run behind me, and a lazy day stretching ahead of me, there was nothing more I could ask for. Except another Daiquiri, that is.