(Howrah > Vizag > Hyderabad > Goa)
If the mountains of Tawang were a test of my skills, the plains of the East Coast were a test of my soul. I started Phase 3 on Dec 3 under a grey, heavy sky. In my mind, I was already on “vacation mode,” dreaming of the beaches in Puri and a sea-facing room in Vizag.
What I missed—a mistake I will never make again—was checking the weather report. I assumed because I was on the plains, the danger was over. Nature had other plans.
The Warning at the Shore
Dec 3: Howrah to Puri, I reached Puri, looking forward to fresh fish and the sound of the waves. But at the hotel, the air was thick with tension. The staff told me that due to a developing cyclone in the Bay of Bengal, no ships were allowed out. My heart skipped a beat. In my rush for “vacation charm,” I had completely underestimated the fury of a “mad sea.”
Into the Eye of the Storm
Dec 4: Puri to Vizag By the time I pulled into Vizag, the rain and clouds had already started their duet. That night, sleep was impossible. The “vacation” in my head was replaced by a cold, sharp fear.
I was saddled up and moving by 4:00 AM. I knew Hyderabad was out of the alert zone, and my goal was to reach it at any cost. But the universe decided to turn the lights out.
The Darkest Morning
Dec 5: Vizag to Hyderabad (The Hell Ride) Around 10:30 AM, the sky didn’t just turn grey; it turned pitch black. My KTM 390 Adventure’s odometer automatically triggered its Night Mode display. In the middle of the morning, I was riding in a literal midnight.
The wind was the most terrifying part. Even with a fully loaded bike, the gusts were overpowering, threatening to blow me and the machine right off the highway. I passed uprooted trees and a landscape in total mess. My heart rate must have been over 160 BPM. I rolled into Hyderabad around 9:00 PM through pure God’s grace.
The Irony of the Sun
Dec 6 – Dec 8 The next day was a “forced” day off. The irony wasn’t lost on me—I spent the day indoors, not sightseeing, but drying out every single piece of gear I owned. On Dec 8, the sun finally broke through. Joined by two other riders from Hyderabad, the final leg to Goa was perfect, thrilling, and felt like a victory lap.
The Unfiltered Finish: Goa & Beyond
Dec 9 – Dec 10 Walking into India Bike Week after surviving a Himalayan winter and a Bay of Bengal cyclone was an emotional reset. I actually reached out to the IBW “Big Trip” department to share this journey, but apparently, an 8,000km solo loop through cyclones and snow wasn’t “interesting enough” for their highlights.
At first, it stung. But then, as I stood among thousands of bikes, I realized: I didn’t do this for recognition. I didn’t need a trophy to validate the 160 BPM heartbeat outside Vijayawada or the frozen silence of Bumla Pass. This wasn’t about a stage; it was about the loop I closed within myself. The achievement was personal, raw, and entirely mine.
The final ride back home to Pune was the quietest of the trip. No music, no navigation—just the hum of a machine that had carried me through the worst of nature and the best of my own resilience.
The Setup: Gear That Survived the Loop
An 8,254km journey isn’t just about the rider; it’s about the synergy between the machine and the gear. From the 0°C chill of Arunachal to the torrential cyclone winds of the East Coast, here is the kit that carried me through:
- Lubrication: A huge shoutout to Motul India for sponsoring the lubricants. That fresh oil change and throttle cleaning in Howrah kept the KTM 390 Adventure purring even when the oxygen got thin.
- Apparel: I lived in my Solace touring jacket and pants. They handled the massive temperature swings from the Himalayas to the Goan coast with ease.
- Hands & Feet: I trusted Rynox touring gloves for the grip and LS2 riding boots for the protection. Both were put to the ultimate test during the “Hell Ride” through the cyclone.
- Helmet & Comms: My MT Blade helmet was my sanctuary, paired with the Bluarmor C30 intercom. Without a mobile holder, those voice-guided navigation cues were the only thing that got me through the white-out mist of Sela Pass.
- Documentation: My GoPro 11 was my primary storyteller, specifically for the breathtaking stretches of Arunachal. While I couldn’t capture every single mile (some moments are meant for the eyes, and others were just too intense to worry about a camera), it survived the high-altitude vibrations and the biting cold of the north perfectly.
Final Closing Note
The “Big Trip” desks might look for flashy headlines, but real riding is found in the grit on your riding jacket and the footage on your GoPro that proves you were there when the world went dark.
This loop started as a map on a screen and ended as a part of my DNA. To every solo woman rider out there wondering if they should: The road is waiting. Just make sure your throttle is clean and your heart is ready.
The Great Loop was officially closed.
