Kerala, an
adventure in India.
11th November - 20th November 2016
11th November - 20th November 2016
Rudyard Kipling.
There is a place where the ocean melts into the sky like a
cup of warm milk. Its mountains are soft and green as if mown by giants. Great
eucalyptus forest cover their slopes and tumble down to meet the rolling puzzle
of brilliant green tea plantations. High above rocks adorn the grassy upland,
black and smooth. White waterfalls spill, lacy waters over curved edged ledges
as they carve their way down into a tangled forest of tousled trees and vines
and make their way into great coastal rivers. These holy waters run through the
country like a thread, binding its people in a multitude of faiths, joining
sprawling cities of newly built concrete, ancient dusty relics of a long gone
past or tin roofed shacks that cover every inch of space in another urban
puzzle, so different from the countryside.
I was privileged to visit this country with Macmillan cancer
support and take in its serene beauty as we trekked through the bewildering tea
plantations of Kerala and on up across the high plateau of the Western Ghats in
neighbouring Tamil Nadu. The trek was organised by Discover Adventure and lead
by local guides.
22 intrepid trekkers gathered in Heathrow that cold, dull
November afternoon to embark on a very long journey. Initially to India,
entering via Mumbai and the not so fast new e-visa system and only just
catching our onward flight to Kochi. This part of the journey always seems the
worst; queuing, bag checking, more queuing, more bag checking, longer queues,
scanning, even more queuing, finger printing and just a little more waiting.
Never mind, we made it there, although much later than expected but in time to
enjoy a meal and a shower before bed.
I do believe I read the written information on the shower
correctly, in spite of not using my reading glasses. It stated “Leave the hot
running for ten minutes to enjoy hot water”. Well, after ten minutes of a cold
shower I was well ready for bed and my tent buddy thanked me for warming the
shower for her. At least someone was happy with the Indian plumbing system.
India is an amazing mix of cultures, religions and
geographic regions. It is the 7th largest country in the world but
has the second largest population. In fact India has a larger population than
the entire western hemisphere of the earth. At present its population exceeds
1.2 billion making it the world’s largest democracy.
Cochin Port was a fascinating place. We were all excited to
finally see India and immerse ourselves in its beautiful cultural differences. Here
fisherman mended nets, cross legged and silent as they had always done. Others
worked huge catapult type constructions fashioned out of whole trees and ropes
worn down by time and water. They sorted their catch into small baskets of even
tinier fish, holding them up as if great prizes with warm and energetic smiles.
The milky air washed over us, quietening our thoughts, slowing life down and
immersing us in a land of silvery dreams. Being here was like hanging in a
magic bubble, blown in on the wind from an ancient sea. We were in our new
world, captive and by it spell.
Upon trees and Chinese fishing nets sat little egrets and
black cormorants drying huge feathered wings. They gathered on every pole or
rock in hope of a feed, while local fisherman showed us the ropes of the Kerala
fishing industry.
These shore operated lifting nets are unique to this area of
Southern India, introduced by the Portuguese during the 1700. The technique was
ordinarily use in Southern China, using huge structures of around 10 metres in
height with large nets of at least 20 metres width. They hang above the water
until they are lowered completely by a pulley system of ropes and rock
balances. The fishermen singing a short pulling song as they bring it back up
after just a few minutes. It’s never a large catch but the fish are quickly
sold as they are unloaded.
We ambled down to a lovely old church, built 300 years ago
when spice wars raged on the high seas between the Dutch, Portuguese and
English all to secure cheaper spices than those that came overland from china.
The joyful singing of Sunday worship drifted, as we did, down to the narrow
streets of old Cochin that lead to an ancient palace, colourful streets of the
old Jewish quarter and a lovely synagogue, jewelled with coloured glass lights.
We took mental notes and wandered back to our awaiting coach, leaving beautiful
Cochin behind.
When they say 4 to 5 hours’ drive they mean it. Only on this
occasion India had decided to scrap all large back notes that weekend and most
banks were now either closed or every ATM had long queues of people desperately
trying to get the allowed 2000 rupees or around £25 out of their accounts.
Finally we found a bank that appeared open but it was not only a long wait but
a lottery to whether the recipients received a little wodge of crumpled and
dirty bank notes.
Finally making it to Munnar after passing huge white
cascades, trees of orange flowers and monkeys enjoying their forest home. We
arrived just as darkness came and it was yet again time to eat and sleep before
our first day of trekking in the morning. There was however a little time to
take a thrilling ride down to Munnar on a Tuc tuc and look around the markets
before falling into bed.
It’s difficult to know what season it is in India, I guess
it must have been autumn. India’s Hindu calendar has 6 seasons; spring, summer.
Monsoon, autumn, winter and prevernal. Out here in the mountains the air was
clear and cool, so different to that of Mumbai which we had passed through. So
many of India’s cities suffer from large amounts of pollution and overcrowding.
From the village of Nagarmundid the following morning we
wave goodbye to the jeeps and gradually ascended the hill behind us. The views
were stunning, as was the flora, almost magical. The plantations spread out in
all directions, bright green and often tangled with blue morning glory where
they met the forest that hugged the slopes.
We rose up onto the grassy uplands on a tiny track of crumpled grasses.
Our guide told of meeting elephants just 13 days before as they lay sleeping in
the undergrowth. There noisy snoring could be heard a distance away by his
tuned in ears, we too hoped that we would see these wonderful beasts as they
enjoyed their normal 21 day route around the hills and mountains in this
region. They had left their mark well with ruts and nibbled roots of grass,
oversized clumps of manure and scrape marks on tree trunks where they had rubbed
their massive bodies.
Up here it was like being on an anchored ship, as clouds rose
up the sides of the hills and rolled back down the other side, giving glimpses
of the hidden valleys below, with their splendid tea plantations, lakes and
rivers. We sailed on up the Seven Malai hills and descended back down through
eucalyptus, the beautiful orange flowered African tulip tree or Nirukai Mara
(Spathodea Companulata), cardamom plants, coffee and tangled peppers. Finally
after leaving all the wonderful butterflies, flowers of pinks, yellows and
orange we reached the edge of the tea plantations again. On a wide track now we
watch tea pickers gathering their allotted 20kg of leaves and more. Prizes
given to those picked the most.
After walking back to the hotel we enjoyed lunch and then walked
into the busy little town where we managed another successful ATM visit of
another 2000 rupees and decided that we should be ok now for the rest of the
visit. In town we joined the others for a little cultural interest, a visit to
the tiny local theatre to see the Kathakali dancers. This “dance” is quite
unique to Kerala. I must first confess that along with a number of jet lagged
individuals I feel asleep quite a few time during the performance. The dance itself was quite fascinating as
they took us through the different hand movements and facial expressions. It
culminated in a green ogre cutting both the breasts and head of a fair maiden.
That woke us all up!
We rose early the next day and after taking the jeeps up the
beautiful Silent valley we arrived at our camp. It was a beautiful morning
walking up the wide rocky track to the plateau above. Now steadily moving
upwards we climbed the many rolling undulations of the seven rounded peaks that
was our ladder to Meesapulima Peak (2630 metres and the second highest in
Southern India). This grassy wilderness was home to eagles, buzzards and
numerous tiny wild flowers. At first the cloud would clear just enough to see
down into the lush grass tea estates but by lunch nature was in charge and our
views were gone. From here on we climbed on upwards into cloud. There were a
number of people who were suffering from knee and back injuries now. For some
their day had already been cut short but others struggled on. My own asthma was
bothering me too and I was taking Diamox due to my susceptibility to altitude
problems over 2500 metres. It was good to reach the top but it wasn’t for long
as time was marching on and cloud had engulfed the summit. After
congratulations all-round and a group photography we began our descent into the
central valley. Here bracken covered the land, golden and amber with dips and
rises until we met the first tall rise in front of us. It was hard to see old
friends suffer and new friend struggle but it’s all part of the challenge and
once at the top of the wide track again a jeep came to help those in
difficulties down.
The light was fading fast as we watched the sun set and
distant stars rise in an inky black sky. Fireflies danced in the air, little
frogs of black and brown leapt from rock to rock and one by one our head
torches came on and lit the way to camp.
It was a late night, but we gathered around the warmth of
the glowing fire, ate our dinner and yes it was curry again but they had made
us some tasty snacks too and soon we were asleep.
The night didn’t seem very long. We rose at 6am and as soon
as breakfast was eaten we were off up into the hills once again, this time over
the plateau of the Western Ghats. Again there were members of the group who could
now hardly walk, most joined us while a few returned on the bus to join us at
the next camp.
We took a small track up through the trees to reach a
splendid waterfall. I was a little rebellious I must admit and would not wear
the cotton leech proof socks fearing that they would lead to blisters. The
rebellion spread, some wore the socks and got blisters, some wore gaiters and
were bitten by leaches. I sprayed my feet and legs with DEET and receive
neither so perhaps rebellions are sometimes needed.
After crossing the stream above the falls the little path
was full of fallen trees branches and hidden stumps. It was a lovely path,
scattered with 200 year old red rhododendrons. The mountains rose above us,
while wild elephants had left their trail along with that of leopards. It was a
beautiful wild, high place in every sense. After a lunch of curry, carried by
the local guides we dropped down into the damp forest where thousands of
leeches awaited us. They crept across our boots, into socks and up trousers
legs, piercing small holes and fattening themselves on our blood. Members of
our group wore their dressings with pride, one ever professing to have received
a total of 9 leech bites in one day.
After watching monkeys in the trees we reached the tea
plantations once again. Women were coming down through the crops carrying sacks
upon their heads, they chattered and giggled as they passed us. They had been
working all day picking tea, not surprising as there was so much of it and it
needed to be gathered every 17 days. The bushes were wonderfully clipped and
neat, many of them were between 70 and 120 years old. Tea processing factories
stood tall and dark with huge piles of timber stacked outside them. An
incredible industry. Tea grow wild in India and has been brewed and consumed
since the 12th century by the indigenous population. By the early
1820’s the British East India Company began large scale production of tea. Tea
is actually a camellia bush, its botanical name being Camellia Sinensis. It the
most widely drunk beverage in the world and only water is consumed more widely throughout
the world.
Here in Kerala the leaves are picked by hand as all high
quality tea is picked. They are then left to wither, where they lose more than
a quarter of their weight. This process allows leaf proteins to break down into
free amino acids, changing the taste of the tea. The next part of the
production is called Disruption, during this process the leaves are tumbled in
baskets on trays. This quickens the oxidation, before the tea is rolled and
dried. Wonderful to be part of this incredible green world.
But night was nearly upon us once again and we still had
around 2 to 3 hours of walking to undertake that day so after saying goodbye to
one or two of our most exhausted walkers we trekked on through the tea
plantations and back to camp. With head torches on once again we walked in our
bubbles with thoughts of a hot supper and a warm sleeping bag.
The fire was inviting back at camp but I went to my tent to
sort out my bedding and ready things for another early start in the morning.
There had almost not been time to let this beautiful country sink into my
soul. I wanted more time to let my thoughts float.
At 5am the next morning, while darkness still reigned, the
local village megaphone system played a merry Indian tune and announced the
break of day. I waited until 6am, dressed, packed and breakfasted before
leaving Top Station at 1930 metres and descending to the tiny village of
Kotakuddi. The scenery here was magnificent as tall rocky outcrops rose up from
grassy slopes, forests and flowers lined the track down to the bottom station.
Once we reached the village we waited for other members of the group to arrive.
How hard this trek had been for some, they had put everything into this long
arduous journey. They struggled down the next part with stiff and painful
knees, crippling back pain and tiredness. We helped each other to achieve our
goals and looked in wonder as crops of coffee, pepper, bananas and oranges lined
our route. As we entered the village a mother showed us her home and the
teacher proudly introduced us to his class of five small children.
Finally we reached the larger bottom village with its shops,
school and tea stalls. 70% of all tea produced in India is consumed in India
itself. Tea is drunk with milk and sugar in India. The leaves are boiled and
the black tea is boiled again once the milk and sugar is added. It’s widely
drunk by locals at these little tea stalls. We waited for the police to sort
out the group’s paperwork and then made our way down through coconut and mango
plantations, waving to children, mothers and chickens as we descended. Only the
river stood before us now and it wasn’t long before we crossed that too and
gathered spend to reach our finishing line and awaiting mini buses. After more hugs, tears and chatter we were on
our way once again, this time to Thekkedy.
The next day we left the hills for the coast and the house
boats at Alleppey. I wasn’t sure what to expect of this part of the adventure,
but it was that inner peace and the time to let India reach into my soul that I
had wished for. TIME. Yes, time didn’t matter here it brushed by like the water
under our boat. Here was beauty and serenity. Here was peace and pure joy and I
thanked Macmillan for this precious and very special time. It had been a busy
year of fundraising and now I enjoyed watching river life pass by. Birds in
the paddy fields, people washing clothes in the river, children catching the
ferry home from school and men fishing. This was a very different Kerala. We
moored up overnight and finished our journey on the beautiful backwaters in the
morning light.
There was one last thing to do before returning home, a dip
in the Arabian Sea and our celebration meal. Now I was ready to go home and
proud to wear my India trekking T shirt.
