How I lost my 1st drone in around a week

I took the Harley-Davidson 440X from Bangalore to Goa with a stop in Karwar, mostly so I could finally fly a drone over the coast, spend time at a company offsite, and later learn to surf in Mulki. The drone lasted about a week and a half before I did something stupid near the water. The rest of the trip stayed with me longer than the aircraft did.

I still drop pins when I ride; if you want the rough path I used, it’s all here on Google Maps. On the way home I went Mulki to Mysore to see Raksha, a college friend — we ate lunch, I rested a bit, then rode Mysore to Bangalore the same evening and got in around eight or nine. NICE Road that night was miserable on two wheels: I was on the service road almost the whole time and just wanted the day to end.

The Goa leg included a company offsite. The drone was a separate logistics puzzle: I had bought it in the US and had it sent to a colleague’s place; he brought it along for the offsite. Unboxing it in India felt less like opening a box and more like finally getting to answer the question I’d been asking for months — what does this coast look like from above?

The first real flight was Vagator, sand and wind and me being more nervous than a piece of plastic should warrant. After that I flew Cola and Cabo de Rama, quieter spots where the light felt different. There’s a short reel from Cola on Instagram — reels don’t always stay public enough to embed cleanly, so I’ll leave it as a link: Cola on Instagram.

The Vagator clip is on YouTube too if you prefer that tab: Vagator — YouTube.

In North Goa I lived out of a hostel, fell in with people, and ended up on a trek around Arambol with the drone tagging along like an awkward friend nobody minded because the views paid for themselves. I cut a trek reel before everyone scattered to the next city. That reel is here: Arambol on Instagram.

I moved south and spent two or three nights in a dorm on Palolem. The guy in the bunk across from me was a German photographer; we did the polite traveller version of shop talk about lenses and tides. I flew over Palolem as well, in softer afternoon light. One evening I found a cafe near the beach where someone was singing something between blues and jazz — I never nailed the genre, only that I liked his voice enough to stay two or three hours while the drink went warm. I watched the sunset on Palolem every night I was there. Here’s a reel from that stretch: Palolem on Instagram.

From Palolem I rode to Mulki for about seven days of surfing, starting in a tent because I wanted part of the trip to feel a little rough on purpose. The tent delivered: noise, canvas, the sea close enough to taste. I met a group that was half from Bangalore and half from Mumbai; we got on immediately. The next night I moved into a dorm because I wanted sleep I could trust.

On the ride toward Mulki along the coast, Maravanthe is the stretch where the road runs parallel to the water — we stopped, I shot a reel, and it’s still one of those “open the camera roll later” memories: Maravanthe on Instagram. There’s a longer cut from that coastal ride on YouTube as well.

Mornings in Mulki belonged to the surf camp van. Someone would roll up and shout “SURFFFINGGGG” so the next batch knew to get moving — half alarm clock, half joke, all routine by day three. The van shuttled us to the beach and brought us back after each session until the rhythm felt normal.

While I was based there for surf, I took an evening and went to Kaup beach and the lighthouse. It might be the most memorable single place on the whole trip. I sat through sunset, ate potato twisters from a stall, and didn’t hurry back to the dorm. If you want the reel: Kaup lighthouse on Instagram.

I also flew on Mulki surf camp beach. By then I was too used to having the drone in the air near the water, which matters for what happened next.

When I rode north from Mulki along Karnataka’s coast I stopped at Mattu beach near Udupi; there’s another reel from that bit of road here: Mattu beach on Instagram.

I went for a shot too close to the water. The drone touched the beach, salt got where it shouldn’t, and it stopped working almost immediately. I kept riding anyway — Mysore, Raksha, home — and the next morning in Bangalore I took it to a shop. Dead. From first flight to that diagnosis was roughly a week and a half.

I still have the route, the reels, and the memory of someone yelling “SURFFFINGGGG” across a parking lot. I also have a boring but useful lesson: salt water does not care about your footage. If you do a similar ride, give yourself a break on NICE at night, drink water, and keep the expensive toys a little farther from the surf line than you think you need.