You always travel.
Sometimes it is for work. Sometimes it is for leisure. Sometimes it is just because the road is calling. It may be within your own city or hundreds of kilometres away. You may travel alone or with someone. But one thing remains constant—you think.
This five-day journey from Belagavi → Bengaluru → Brahmavara (Udupi district) → Dandeli → Belagavi turned out to be exactly that. A trip of driving, working, eating, thinking, and, thankfully, plenty of rain.
This isn’t a travel guide. It isn’t meant to make anyone jealous of the places visited. It is simply a personal journal—a reminder to myself that sometimes the destination matters far less than the thoughts that emerge somewhere between two highways.
Day 1 – Bengaluru and Familiar Comforts
The journey began aboard the Rani Chennamma Express, travelling overnight from Belagavi to Bengaluru.
There is something calming about overnight train journeys. By the time the city wakes up, you’ve already crossed hundreds of kilometres without thinking much about the distance.
Like many of my Bengaluru visits over the years, the day began with a familiar ritual—a comforting breakfast of Pongal and Vada in Malleshwaram. Some places become less about food and more about continuity. Every visit feels like meeting an old friend.
The rest of the day was exactly what Bengaluru usually is for me—meeting friends, attending a few work meetings, catching up on conversations that cannot happen over phone calls, and finally returning to the hotel to prepare for the next day’s long drive.
The real journey was yet to begin.
Day 2 – When the Road Changes the Plan
We left Bengaluru around 9 in the morning after another breakfast that belonged in the comfort-food category—Rava Idli, Dosa and strong South Indian coffee.
Getting past Bengaluru traffic until Nelamangala is always an achievement in itself. Beyond that, the highways begin to breathe.
The original plan was straightforward. Drive through Shiradi Ghat and enter coastal Karnataka via Mangaluru.
Plans, however, are often rewritten over a glass of fresh juice.
While taking a short break at the popular Hotel Mayura near Bellur Cross, someone casually suggested, “Why don’t we go via Agumbe instead?”
Within minutes, the route changed.
Looking back, it was probably the best decision of the trip.
The drive towards Hassan, Sringeri and eventually Agumbe unfolded under surprisingly clear skies. For a monsoon trip, the absence of rain initially felt disappointing, but it allowed us to enjoy long stretches of beautiful roads cutting through forests and rolling hills.
Lunch happened at a lovely roadside hotel amantran @ aldur circle, once again managed by a Shetty. If you spend enough time in coastal Karnataka, you eventually realise that Shettys seem to have mastered the art of hospitality.
Somewhere along the Chikkamagaluru–Sringeri road, we noticed a signboard that read:
“Seegodu Café – 20 km.”
Curiosity won again.
The café turned out to be much more than a coffee stop. Built around a beautifully restored hundred-year-old heritage bungalow in Seegodu near Balehonnur, it blended history, nature and simplicity effortlessly. After a leisurely coffee, we continued towards Agumbe.
About an hour later, we finally reached the famous ghat.
Agumbe never tries too hard to impress. It simply exists—with its mist-covered forests, sharp hairpin bends and the memories of Malgudi Days, whose fictional town came alive here. Even without heavy rain, the village carries a quiet charm that makes you slow down naturally.
We paused briefly at the viewpoint before descending towards Seethanadi and Hebri.
For a while, I seriously considered staying somewhere deep inside the forest. I was hoping the rains would arrive and create that unique therapy only monsoon forests can offer—the sound of water, mist and absolute silence.
The rain refused to cooperate.
So we continued to the newly built Brahmavara Club on the Hebri–Brahmavara road.
The remainder of the evening slipped back into my usual rhythm:
- Work
- Meetings
- Brainstorming
- More work
- Some rest
Travel doesn’t always mean disconnecting. Sometimes changing the location is enough to think differently.
A Tree, A Club, and the People Behind It
Sometimes, travel gifts you experiences that were never part of the itinerary.
During our stay at the Brahmavara Sports Club, the club happened to be celebrating Vana Mahotsava 2026, an initiative dedicated to planting trees and reinforcing the importance of preserving nature. The founders and members warmly invited us to be a part of the celebration by planting a rare variety of mango tree. It was a simple gesture, but one that carried meaning. Long after the journey is forgotten, that tree will continue to grow, quietly marking a memory of this visit.
The club itself deserves appreciation. More than just a sports facility with excellent amenities, it reflects the vision of a group of people who wanted to create a community space amidst nature—away from the noise of cities, where sport, recreation and the outdoors coexist beautifully.
A special mention must go to Mr. Pramod Shetty, the Vice President of the club. Professionally, he is one of the region’s well-known civil contractors, but what impressed me more was the passion with which he has helped shape this institution. Having overseen much of the club’s development, his attention to detail is visible throughout the property—from the thoughtful planning of the spaces to the way the infrastructure blends naturally with its surroundings.
It is easy to build structures with concrete and steel. Building institutions that people feel proud to belong to is far more difficult. Pramod and the team behind the Brahmavara Sports Club seem to understand that difference well, and it shows in every corner of the campus.
Some places stay with you because of their landscapes.
Others stay with you because of the people who built them.
Day 3 – Forest Walks and Local Breakfasts
The property itself was an unexpected surprise.
Built as a sports club, it offers everything from sporting facilities to a swimming pool, but what stood out wasn’t any of that. It was its location.
The club sits away from the town, surrounded by greenery. You actually have to drive a few kilometres before reaching the main road. It feels wonderfully disconnected.
The morning naturally began with a walk through the surrounding greenery, followed by a simple roadside coffee after reaching the highway.
Breakfast had only one destination in mind—Padiyar Canteen @ Uppinkote Circle
Small.
Unpretentious.
Absolutely delicious.
Mangalore Buns, Vada and soft Idlis served with their signature lentil curry instead of regular sambar reminded me yet again why some of the best food is found in places that rarely appear on social media.
And of course, when you’re anywhere around Udupi, meeting a few Shettys somehow becomes inevitable.
Day 4 – Rain Finally Arrives
The next morning I woke up to the sound I had been waiting for throughout the trip.
Rain.
The first thought that came to my mind was simply,
“Wow.”
Monsoon has a strange ability to transform ordinary mornings into memorable ones.
As we began our drive back towards Belagavi, breakfast happened at a tiny local eatery called Yashwant Pai Canteen, Kota Murkai Circle
Calling it a restaurant would almost be an exaggeration.
There wasn’t even a proper signboard. The owners politely declined being photographed. Everything about the place reflected quiet authenticity.
What arrived on the plate, however, was extraordinary.
Idli with fresh chutney.
Neer Upma.
Goli Bajji.
And perhaps the finest Upma I have ever eaten.
It was so good that I caught myself saying something I never imagined saying:
“I love Upma.”
Check this out for my love towards upma
https://sheksphere.in/the-upma-universe/
Some experiences simply cannot be reviewed.
You need a local to find the place.
And you need to taste it yourself.
Day 5 – Ancient Temples and the Long Road Home
The return route took us towards Sirsi.
On the way, we stopped at the 1,500-year-old Shri Idagunji Mahaganapati Temple.
Ancient temples have a different relationship with time.
They have witnessed kingdoms rise and disappear, generations come and go, yet they continue to remain exactly where they have always been.
After spending some quiet moments there, the road eventually led back to Belagavi.
The trip had come full circle.
What I Really Brought Back
When I look back, I don’t remember every kilometre driven.
I remember conversations.
Unexpected route changes.
Roadside coffees.
The smell of wet earth.
An unforgettable plate of Upma.
The quiet roads around Brahmavara.
The forests waiting for rain.
And the hours spent thinking while driving.
Perhaps that is what travel has always been for me.
Not collecting destinations.
Collecting perspectives.
Sometimes the best ideas don’t arrive inside conference rooms or in front of laptops.
They arrive somewhere between two towns, with the windows slightly open, music playing softly in the background, and a road stretching endlessly ahead.
Until the next drive.
