The Backpacker

The Bride

To reach Kodaikanal you have many ways, but the only way I discovered was picturesque, twisted and very long. And I nearly got lost, which says a lot for a backpacker. Getting lost on the hills en route this wonderful hill paradise is absolutely delightful. You see more of the place you have come to see when you have to negotiate nasty turns in the roads, hitch a ride which may not be very easy, speak a language you do not know of (in this case Tamil) and pray.

People have said Kodaikanal (Kodai) is very much like England. I cannot be the judge of that. But from what I know, the resemblance between Kodai and England ends with the rainfall, grey mists and the surrounding green. Despite stretching my imagination I could not see an Englishman riding a cow on his way home. Kodai is popular among the local tourists and is connected with Chennai, Salem and Ooty in Southern India.

Thus I saw everything that was there to see: the boathouse, lake, walks, parks, breathed in fresh air, soaked up the luxury of a hot bath, explored the Coaker’s Walk and Liril Falls. And not content with this I managed to get myself lost.

It is easy if you try. All you have to do is go where you should not be going.

Getting lost is an art I perfected at Kodai. That process began with a visit to the sheep and rabbit farm in the nearby Manampahur. That distance can be covered by motor or foot. I reached on foot alright and even saw them grazing contently, winking at the warm sun occasionally. Then I saw the adorable German Angora rabbits secure in their cages.

It was after all that I got lost. I still blame the little rabbit.

That fellow caught my attention when I was admiring a sheep in the pasture. He scurried away when the sheep turned. I followed him into the bush. A backpacker with little experience in chasing wild rabbits makes a hell lot of a noise even when the undergrowth is thickly carpeted with old leaves. You know you are lost when you have a nagging desire to turn around to see if you have left a back trail. Leaves do not leave trails. So I was lost.

At first it was a glorious to wander about surprising strange looking village kids and cows and seeing the top of the Kodai hills in the distance and not knowing how to reach there. When the night fell quickly, silently as it does on the hills, did that glorious feeling turn cold. I thought of my warm room in the hills as I huddled in the corner of a tiny shed at the foothills, feeling like a lost sheep. I arrived back in Kodai the next morning, like the prodigal daughter, in a tractor.

I ate and I slept. Then in the evening I went boating and nearly drowned us all. How I achieved that feat is something I ask myself even now. But I did. Well, maybe the marine life had a lot to do with it too. There are pretty bouncy creatures in the lake and after having spent the night in the cold, one is tempted to seek entertainment in all possible ways. Maybe I should have played Frisbee in the Bryant Park and chased butterflies.

The next morning I did something else. I joined a group of people to visit the Berijam Lake as the forest authorities would not permit me to go off on my own. The lake is beautiful which made it difficult to resist jumping into it. It was the right place to get lost too. However that temptation passed and we visited the Neptune-Cool Rapids. In order to see the Neptune –Cool Rapids after a brief trek into the forest. Nothing like a trek to put you in the right frame of mind, I say. Kodai is just the place to indulge. It is cold and fresh and has many old structures which it proudly displays to the public. It is content in its idyllic setting high in the hills. For some reason it reminded me of a new bride.

She was full of temptation.

The dog and the snow

It is a singularly exhilarating experience when the train edges out of Pathankot station with its face turned towards Dalhousie. Although in the severe December cold, not many welcome the idea of trudging the snow and very few actually welcome the idea of walking the sunlit paths through the pine and deodar woods lined with snow-covered rhododendrons and wait to see the pale sun shining somewhere above.  Naturally I was on that train to the much loved hill station in the Western Himalayas.

The prospect of exploring Dalhousie’s beauty, invigorating air, warm sunshine and quiet surroundings amidst the dense forests was very exciting. It was also on this journey that I met Scott, a backpacker from Sweden. When we found our way around the town covered in white, he decided to discard his woolens to prove that he was used to the cold and the snow. That decision he regretted later when he was forced to drink something hot and bitter, Tibetan drink (there are many Tibetans here), to keep from shivering all night.

Dalhousie is built on and around five little hills, is beautiful and a perfect place to relax and rejuvenate physically and spiritually. The only way to attain that was to trek. I had a point to prove, so Scott and I set off on one, ignoring warnings of heavy snow. Gandhi Chowk is the place where most of these adventures begin and end. Warding off vendors is one. There were surprisingly many vendors even in the cold, trying to sell shawls, sweaters, mufflers and what not. (Scott had to be coerced into buying one).

Scott however beat me to Panjpula, 3 kms away, a popular picnic spot by the stream, which was well hidden in white (in fact everything was!) after passing the seven springs (Satdhara) which are rich in mica and other minerals. The springs are known to have medicinal and healing properties. The stream itself has strange rock formations and after exploring a bit we decided to trek uphill towards Dain Kund range. It was not the best time however to display one’s adventurous streak and halfway we abandoned the trek and turned around. Scott finally agreed that one place looked like another when completely covered in white. It was the first practical thing he had said. It was not easy to trudge snow in walking shoes. 

We hadn’t seen the sun either. By night when most of the street lights went off and in the pale white light reflected off the snow, Dalhousie looked hauntingly beautiful. That is the image of Dalhousie that has stayed with me--that and the dog that insisted on accompanying me to my room. He won. But he got the floor. 

The next morning, braving fresh snow, we began from the other end: The Charing Cross. Scott was in his elements and was determined to beat me this time too. We walked roughly in the form of 8 around Potrein Hill and came in view of the Sacred Hearts Convent School, rising out of the mist. It was closed. The silent, white valley was breathtaking too.

Dalhousie has a mall connecting the two anchor points – Gandhi Chowk and Charing Cross). You have to strictly walk. Scott made an interesting observation. One road locally called the higher Garam sadak (the hot road) received sunshine, while the lower Thanda sadak (cold road) did not!! He was right too.

Watch out for the langurs and you snacks and if you are tired of walking hire a sturdy pony. It’s a groovy place to be tucked away in for a few days with plenty of unforgettable walks, including the Jhandri Ghat, Bakrota Hill (with beautiful view of the Pangi range), Lakkar Mandi and Jandrighat Palace. Visit the Sadar Bazar area where locals live. Its tiered streets and sloping tin-roofed, multi-storied homes take you to the old world.

Twenty two kilometers away is Khajjar, which we never visited because none agreed to take us, but which we were told was astonishingly beautiful with view of the snow covered Himalayan peaks in the background.

I returned alone, Scott having decided to watch snowflakes settling on his window panes one more day. Only the dog, shivering in the cold, came to say goodbye.  

Hi all

Not many travelers can claim to have watched wild elephants frolicking in the mists or a herd of deer feasting on juicy young leaves with delicate butterflies fluttering in the eucalyptus- scented air…If this particular picture appeals to you, head straight for Gopalswamy Betta (betta is hill or peak in Kannada), standing 1500 m high in the Bandipur forest range, in Karnataka, southern India. Also be prepared for heady fragrance of wild trees, bounding monkeys, green grassy slopes, mists and absolute silence.

Once atop the hill, which I reached after many tightly wound hairpin bends following a brief encounter with monkeys and paying a small fee at the entrance to the hill, I instantly forgot the roads that led me here. (Turn right from Hangala on the Mysore–Ooty road, 8 km from Gundlupet, and keep going and if your instincts fail, the cowherds will gladly help.)

Naturally, my instincts scored.

To introduce Bandipur, its elephant safaris and tiger trails at this point would be sheer injustice to Gopalswamy betta, which, I believe is a world in itself and merits its own space in travel columns. Thankfully, it is little known outside its immediate environs and much of its pristine beauty can be attributed to the lack of its popularity. On the hill are two structures. The Temple and the forest guest house. Food you must bring along unless you want to survive on fresh air and water from the temples’ hand pump. (For the adventurous, wild guava is available in plenty and anyone with little knowledge of flora can survive on other wild fruits and berries.) But never cast a hungry eye on the wildlife. It is strictly off the menu.

The best advice I could give any visitor to this hill would be to absorb the silence. For when you do, you can hear the latent music of the ripples in the little pool at the base of the temple where occasionally elephants come for a quick bath. If you listen hard, even the fluttering of butterflies or dragon flies will reach your ear, or the snorting of the wild gaurs. Pray, how many places in the world allows one the luxury of reveling in natures lap, high above the din of modernization, secluded in the sanctuary of thoughts and the wild forests winds fanning your imagination?

Gopalswamy Betta certainly has the magical aura maintained through hundreds of years of its existence. I found myself a rock to stand. In fact they are best vantage points from where you can catch glimpses of deer and wild pigs and elephants. All it requires is quiet and though it is hard to stifle a scream when the giant mammal heads in your direction, it is better to. The sounds echo in the valley and can scare away the animals, lessening your chances of sighting them. Here, you must follow certain rules. So, it is really up to you whether you spot a particular animal, or not. I have not yet mentioned the birds. To me, they appear more content here, it is evident in their flight. Even the peacock appears less vain and does not hesitate to pose for the camera, unlike those in the zoo.

One side of the hill is dense forest and the other, plains, plunging hundreds of feet through scrub vegetation, abounding in rabbits, hare, mice and mountain goats. In fact it gives the appearance of a different world, moving on at its own pace. The weather is pretty much the same in all seasons except in winter when it gets really cold. It is easily accessible from Bangalore and Calicut (the nearest airports) and Ooty. Gopalswamy Betta is thus good for the soul.

It cleanses your insides like nothing does.