The Backpacker

Hi there, all of you


Welcome to Waynad

In Gods Own Country, this is but a tiny jewel. Nevertheless it is the jewel most precious.

All around this place is beautiful green as if nature is blushing in different shades of green, from light to dark as she slowly blooms into womanhood…..Then just as suddenly, there is the unmistakable blue mingled with the green giving it the appearance of a fairyland. The soft white swirls of mist completes the picture of pleasure. Welcome to Waynad, the land of luxury and colours.

I am one of those lucky ones perhaps who actually got to experience this place. I lived here a while!! And no other place, till date has fascinated me like Waynad has. So it is on good authority you are reading this article. Trust me, once here; you never want to go away.

To say I have seen it all would be an understatement, because nature here is very playful. With every season she changes colours and the very same thing I saw just-the-other-day, would look and feel so different. I have trekked to the Chembra Peak (it took me almost a whole day!!), paddled about in the Pookot Lake, seen the Edakkal Caves and in moments of tenderness even visited some of the temples here.

The tea estates are remarkably breathtaking. If you are traveling uphill from Kozhikode in Kerala, you are very lucky because as you leave Vythiri, you see plenty of them. From Calicut (Kozhikode the locals call it) is 100 kms away and easily covered in less than three hours but you have to be very good at the curves that are tightly wound round the bends starting from Adivaram upward till you reach Vythiri. There are strategic locations where you can pull up by the road and drink in the breathtaking scenery and enjoy the sudden fall in temperature. Watch out for the monkeys though, if you are seen with food, they usually do not hesitate to claim their share!!

By now you have almost reached Sultan’s Battery after passing Kalpetta, a picturesque one-horse-town and also the district head quarters. Sultan’s Battery is a little bigger town and like a typical hill-town, is surrounded by hills and eucalyptus trees and tea estates. From here, there are plenty of buses plying to Mysore, Bangalore (Karnataka side), to Ooty (Tamil Nadu side). For an obscure hill station, it is very well connected.

Bandipur, the famous tiger park, is in close proximity to Sultan’s Battery. Plenty of jeeps and cars for hire make it easy for the tourists to travel about. The locals are very friendly and never, even in the absence of a rate-meter, overcharge you.

Head for Muthanga and go on a safari and if you are lucky, really lucky, you can see the big cat up close. A word of warning though. Never venture out into the forests alone, you don’t know which animal is out there waiting for his next meal. The forest houses hundreds of varieties of animals, some not so friendly. Never hunt for any animal or bird or carry away a strange-looking sapling. The wildlife department here are known for their strict rules and regulations and do not take kindly to meddling tourists.

Ooty is about 90 kms away and can be reached in two ways from Sultan’s Battery. You can drive all the way to Gundulpet (55kms) and turn right, drive to Gudulur (via Erumad-Cherambady) and climb up to Ooty.

Don’t be surprised if you are suddenly faced with strange-looking people not very well covered. Waynad and the whole of Nilgiris have a lot of tribal people. Of course many of them have joined the mainstream civilization, thanks to the untiring efforts of the local government, but you can still see them about.

The weather is pleasant all through the year but the temperature can drop suddenly sometimes. It is advisable to carry light woolen clothing in the non-winter season that is usually from March onwards till the beginning of the monsoons in June. In the rainy season and winter, heavy woolens are recommended.

Chembra Peak: A trekker’s delight. You do get to see a few of them huffing and puffing their way uphill sometimes, but for most parts, it is left to itself. And am glad for it. I always felt that it was my exclusive domain, not to be tampered by meddling tourists. Chembra peak is near Meppady town, another picturesque town with thousands of jeeps around. They must be banned, you know, for they contribute to a great deal of pollution.

There are hundreds of interesting places here and your senses will lead you to the right place if you indulge in it long enough. This is also a spice-town and everything is fresh here, from vegetables to fruits and fish and meat. The locals, like I said are friendly albeit a little curious to know your origins. Just for their evening laughs around a ‘chai-kada’.

For anyone planning a visit to Kerala, I sincerely must advise them to head for Waynad first before heading to the popular beaches downhill.

Adventure Travel

Pipariya took me by surprise.

The name, which I first heard in Itarsi, amused me a great deal. A while later when I discovered that it was in the neighbourhood of a nice hill station: enough to command my respect. So to Pipariya I went from Itarsi. Everything about Pipariya station was amusing. The portly set of porters, the mangy dog that strayed onto the platform, the station master all contrived to give it a comical appearance. The porters also refused to leave me alone, it hurt their traditional pride to see a woman carry her back-pack herself, although I suspect it was more for their pockets that they feared.

However Pipariya had life which was reflected in the way the buses made their way uphill to Panchmarhi 47 km away. They seemed to have a will of their own and did not, as a rule move unless they had made up their minds. And when they did, they were spirited and eager for a run. The fun intensified when taxis and jeeps competed with matadors and tempos and all against each other before setting their eyes on the bus. Often the bus is the winner and occasionally the jeep and the rest of them pull up together, but once at Panchmarhi, all sit down to a friendly cup of ‘chai’ till it is time to go back again.

Panchmarhi was a nice town with sign boards everywhere welcoming you to the ‘Tiger Land’. I did not see any during my stay. In three days I explored caves and waterfalls and verdant green valleys but did not see the cat. But whether the cat saw me was another question altogather.

Panchmarhi in the Satpura range of Madhya Pradesh, central India, gets its name from the five caves, which the legend says sheltered the five Pandavas of the Mahabharata fame. It is not over-developed; nor does it have awesome heights, for the Satpuras are low lying weathered hills. But Panchmarhi likes to show off its treasures too.

The glistening waterfalls are the crowning glory. There are churches built way back at the close of the 18th century with lovely stained glass and plenty of colourful temples. Deep azure pools are hidden everywhere and wild-life watchers can catch glimpses of the animal and birds to their heart’s content.

Infact I did see a couple of them, their eyes glued to the binoculars, so engrossed in their search for the big-cat, that they did not notice when a little boy made away with their caps! Personally I think a day in the Fairy Pool or the Apsara Vihar was a lot more exciting. It must be hard on the eye not to connect to the object it is seeking. I swear I heard a few casual curses, all intended for the cat I hoped, before I made my way through the bushes to the pool. After half a day there I turned my attention to the thunderous waterfalls of the Rajat Parbat and finished off with a swim in the Irene Pool. Of course it sapped a bit of energy but none really grudge the trek. Panchmarhi has a lot of British sounding names and its Indian equivalent, just for the locals!! If you meet a really illiterate local, it helps that you know the names in the two languages.

Day two

I looked for something more exciting and thereby joined a small group and went rock climbing. The guide, aremd with a stout club hacked away at the bushes that threatened to come in his way. He led us though some very hard, rocky grounds, whistling all the while, unaware of our discomfort. After some time we reached where
we were headed.

The rocks at Lanjee Giri are not very friendly to first-timers. I must have cut a pathetic picture to those watching me labour over every rock and every crevice for a footing. I heard the sounds of a "tear" before I saw it. There it was a ghastly sight, leaving a generous bit of me open to public eye!! Luckily, the people in this tiny hill-station are not very “dress-conscious” and therefore I was lucky to get away in my jeans ripped off at undesired places. The guide told me it was not the best thing to wear in the first place.

When I finally boarded a bus the next morning, this time back to Bhopal about 215 km away, I fervently hoped there would be no more competition among the drivers. As it was I had a lot of cheerful memories like a twisted ankle, multiple tear in my jeans: I was not in a hurry to have something done to my head!

Hello there, Ah, the joys of cycling!! reminds me of J K Jeromes "Three men on the bummel". But that was Germany, mind you and this is India. if you enjoy cycling as much as I do, then get on with it.


Kudremukh, the horse-face-shaped hill station took the cake. High in the verdant green Western Ghats in the southern Indian state of Karnataka, surrounded by thick forests and pleasant nature walks, it still continues to haunt me.

It has more to do with the journey itself. My cycle ride began from Mangalore, a bustling city on the Arabian coast about 120 km away. I later learnt that Kudremukh has various entry points, being a home for some famous temples, nestling in its verdant green valleys. Not many encouraged my choice of transport and rightly so, for I pushed my cycle more than I rode it: Kudremukh being a hill area, the roads not friendly sometimes. But that was what made it memorable.

Cycling was fun, for the cool breeze did a lot to for my senses and allowed me to ‘feel’ the nature. More than once I felt that Mother Nature had been partial to this state, what with its beautiful green mountains and rich flora and fauna and abundant mists and waterfalls.

After much riding and pushing and a sneak-lift in the tractor, I finally reached Hanumnagundi, a beautiful waterfall as can be. It is about 16 kilometers short of Kudremukh town. As I climbed down the steps to reach it, I felt as if I was entering the very belly of the earth. The silence was broken only by the waterfall and an occasional scream of children frolicking in the water. Watch out for the leeches though. The dense forests are usually wet and the blood suckers do love to spoil your holidays in their nasty, clinging ways.

I reached Kudremukh very late. Cycling can be a little hard if you have spent two hours in the freezing waters and pulling out leeches and losing a great amount of blood. A small mining town, it does have few lodging options, but if you want the better ones, it is better to arrive early. If you plan to sleep on some hills in a tent, it does not matter. There were plenty of distractions on the way too. Gangamoola was one of them. It is a little scary when you are the only visitor to the spot, which you normally are, with the usual tourists preferring the better locations. I made haste, lest darkness cloud my senses.

A night at Kudremukh was refreshing. The town slept early. If you are lucky you can get non-vegetarian food here. The vegetarian food is mouth watering of course, but a cyclist needs something more than cabbage sprinkled with coconut and potatoes mixed with beans and lentils so few, you could count them on your fingers. The coffee, served in tiny steel cups was absolutely delicious though. Naturally, this town being about 1900 mts above sea level, the water is much purer. But one word of caution: Do no drink water from the rivers, however thirsty you may be. This area rich in iron ore and the rivers do contain the metal, as I discovered too late.

Early in the morning, I joined a group of mine workers to Lakya Dam. I did not regret not taking my cycle. The 100 mts high dam, which has been the favourite of many a film director, collects the ore waste and prevents it from escaping into the rivers of the region.

It is easy enough to spend the day here if you can curb your hunger. The mountain air does work on your appetite and there is not a tea-shop is sight to appease the pangs!! Otherwise, you can have your fill with nature. There are wild fruits and if you are lucky, you may even get yourself a guava or two.

I found it hard to follow a definite plan of action, spending hours walking on the dam and exploring the hills and finally never getting around to visiting temples in the vicinity. So it was late when I cycled in to Kalasa some 22 kilometers away. This town was even smaller than Kudremukh but they served excellent mutton there. Good, when the nights are cold and the muscles are crying out for nourishment.

Kalasa is surrounded coffee estates and my morning walk with piglets, goats, cows, ducks and chicken in tow ended at the ‘chaiwallah’. Steaming hot ‘dosas’ straight off the pan accompanied with coconut chutney was enough to restore my faith in mankind, after which I boarded a bus to Horanadu to visit the Annaporneshwari temple. The short drive was life threatening and it was perhaps the holy spirits that hung about the place that saved us from many disasters along the way. There, cows had equal if not more, right of way and god fearing drivers did not mind driving into the tree to avoid hitting the bovine creatures.

But it was fun all along. The best way I learnt, to absorb the freshness of the hills was to walk or simply cycle your way through. The smell of eucalyptus hung heavy in the air and combine that with smell of coffee blooms and you know what I am talking about. Imagine my regret as I rode away from this little town into Chickmaglur some distance away for a new adventure the next morning. I hated to leave all the mutton untouched.


Chickmaglur and its jewel, Kemmanagundi was my next destination. But that I will tell you later.


Adventure travel

Have fun at Yercaud

Easily accessed from Bangalore.


At night, Yercaud transformed into a dark, silent world, guided only by the sounds and whispers of breeze. Far down in the plains, Salem, a bustling town famous for its steel, looked like a million stars. I saw this from Lady’s Seat, high up in Yercaud at 1500 mts, with the cold breeze, chattering crickets and the smell of citrus and coffee blooms for company. Then just as suddenly, thick swirls of mist rose up and enveloped the little town in its embrace. Salem was lost to sight….

I had been warned against visiting Yercaud in the month of April, because, Salem in Tamil Nadu, India, the last town before the climb to Yercaud, was always hot. As warnings go, it went unheeded.

But as the old transport bus wound its way uphill through 36 hairpin bends, I did regret my decision. It was only after we had climbed more than 800 mts when first signs of life appeared, that I actually relaxed. There was a remarkable drop in mercury too. The temperature sometimes falls as low as 13 degree centigrade.

The rest of the way was spent admiring the neatly kept coffee plantation and hundreds of women picking coffee. It was quite a surprise to see Yercaud as a bustling little town on the Shevaroy hills. Little wonder it was called the ‘Poor Man’s Ooty’. Yercaud held promises. There was not much time to lose.

All tourists, I noticed, headed for the lake first. So did I. After paddling about for an hour, failing miserably to make a garland out of lotus stems, I headed for the food carts for some ‘bhajji’, actually potatoes and chillies dipped in batter and deep-fried. It was fun just to sit on the garden walls and add on calories and watch the kids on the lake.

This followed a walk though the Anna Park, a surprisingly well-maintained garden full of beautiful flowers. A short walk down the road from the Lake, I found “Bhavani Singh’s perfumery!! The smells of nature were all captured in bottles for the weary city-dweller to rejuvenate himself. Bhavani Singh must have been a man worth his salt to have thought of it. I dutifully bought “White Panther Oil” after first establishing that no such animal had been shot for the purpose.

Towards evening, all roads led to the Lady’s Seat at the end of the town past the century-old Montfort School. English-style bungalows lined both sides of the road. There were also the Gents' Seat and the Children’s Seat, the mention of which invited sniggers from the locals. Here clearly the ‘Lady’ ruled. Lady’s Seat has its own charm. From there one can get the best views of the plains and on a clear day, the distant Metur dam can also be seen.

My second day was spent in visiting the old Shevaroyan Temple built by the tribals high in the forested area. It stands at 5500 ft and is the highest point in Yercaud. There are but a few places that can match the magnificence of this old temple.

It was time for a change of view. I opted for the more adventurous roads: which meant simply walking down each road radiating from the main junction or branching off into narrow arteries. One such led to the Pagoda Point. It was a plateau of sorts with several empty little houses perched on it. Past these houses a road led to a small temple on the cliff. The view was breathtaking although it was a misty day and the sun only winked at the world grudgingly. I had heard it was the best place to be. It overlooked an expanse of green, a colour I believe nature created as a comfort for sore eyes. No soul has come away from Pagoda Point without having restored his faith in nature-cure. It’s a long walk from Pagoda Point to the heart of the little town; in fact most tourists prefer to hire a vehicle. Backpacking is about economy, so I walked. It was wonderful to wave to the hundreds of people hurrying past in their cars and jeep anxious for a moment of solace at Pagoda Point. Yercaud is culturally and religiously very tolerant. For a place that has about 343 sq kms area, with more than half of that full of teak, sandalwood and silver oak trees, there are numerous churches, temples and mosques.

Yercaud is not exactly a “happening place” in terms of the night life. The boating closes by 6 pm and the park by 5 pm!!

But what reminds me of the place till date is the fluffy white idli (made of rice and lentil soaked overnight) that I had the fortune of savouring at the Hotel Venkateshwara. Shankar, the proprietor even packed ten of them for my onward journey!! Hospitality was a way of life here.

Despite the advancements in technology, Yercaud still retains its old world charm; it has one internet café and hundreds of telephone booths which remained blissfully non-functional in the best of times. No one is in any hurry to reach anywhere. Everyone has only one thing to say - “All roads lead to Lady’s Seat and the other to Salem”.

Yercaud is certainly very mysterious.

Hello again,

what, you say, is so great about backpacking!! Oh you poor souls!! I personally think, if I had ten lives, a backpacker I would want to be in everyone of them!! Ah, the freedom of being free and footlose, not having to worry over appearances and clothing, about where to sleep and what to eat!! Just the divine feeling of being with your best friend all the times, your backpack ofcourse, nudging against your back, trust me, in many a cold nghts I hav encountered, I have actually passed time talking to it!! it is your best friend, it has everything you want, clothes, torch, batteries, washing kit, sandals, photographs, paper, pen, camera and also without the slightest hsitation even carries your smelly socks!!

how wonderful to lie on the gree grass with it under your head and stare at the sky. believe me, the merits of backpacking are many. it gives you the freedom of exploring the world around you in your way, at your pace and the way you want it. no more no less, and never has a traveller been born who would settle for anything less.

when travelling through crowded towns or on trains full of passengers, also yu will see its merits. it does not occupy much space and can sit comfortably on your back, snuggling against your back...

however it is essential to pick a nice backpack, because in the course of time, yu realize how important it is to really have one that understands you, your moods. If yu think Iam talking through my hat, maybe it is time for you to pick up your bags and GO.....

you'll see.

adventure traveller

Hello to everybody out there, everyone with an itchy feet

I hope I this blog will help you identify your driving passion. Mine ofcourse is travelling and please all of you out there reading this, understand that traveling is my first love and writing about it...forget it!!

Iam only going to record personal experinces I have had in my various journeys across a beautiful country named India. I have explored the unexplored and travelled on roads never taken beofre and even if I have, it has always been differently, never for the same purpose like the other tourists, but only for the purpose of satisfying my curiosity to discover something new in the old.

Hope you find it useful in someway. Happy travelling

Adventure Traveller