For once the Indian tourist board did not exaggerate. It really is enchanting here in 'The Queen of the Hills'.
A final trip for my final day; Ooty to Coonoor, this time by bus.
The views were equally splendid but otherwise a very different experience.
The pros:
Seeing close up the mountain villages, the terraces of gardens and the rolling carpets of lush tea plantations sweeping across the slopes, the bustling Saturday markets, the very British army barracks, the massive cordite factory with very Indian security, the companionship of my fellow passengers.
The cons:
The heaving mass of travelers crammed onto the bus, the squash and squeeze of humanity as the bus creaked and groaned up the pass. The guard, bless him, gave me his seat. Given my recent infirmity, I couldn't stand easily, though it's a mystery to me anyway how people stand safely inside let alone hang on to the rails outside, as is commonplace, given the unpredictable, extreme motions of the bus.
The 'road' or rather lack of it, clings tightly to the hillside as the valley drops steeply away below. I could see the ground through the holes in the floor of the decrepit bus.
In fairness, at 20 pence for the round trip, it’s a bargain. Public transport here is incredibly cheap as so few people own a car and despite the rotten (literally) vehicles, it’s a great way to get around.
The journey took twice as long as it should have done due to the constant stopping to negotiate two vehicles passing on what is surely a single track road accompanied by much revving of engines, shouting and the blasting of horns.
My lunch stop in Coonoor in a shady park led to a fascinating conversation with a local retired doctor who told me that the Nilgiris have been damaged by large scale deforestation for tea planting over the last 40 years which is already leading to climate change in the area. An environmental issue certainly not in the tourist brochures but it makes sense and cast new light on the tea growing industry.
Back in Ooty I stocked up on the scrummy Ooty cake, sweet pastry triangles, more sugar to keep me going for the drive down to 'real' India tomorrow.
I shall miss the climate, the lack of smell (well, relatively speaking ), the cleanliness (ditto) and the higher standard of (tourist induced) living up here, where the electricity stays on in my rather extravagantly decorated room.
Ooty will stay in my memory as outstandingly different and absolutely amazing.
A final trip for my final day; Ooty to Coonoor, this time by bus.
The views were equally splendid but otherwise a very different experience.
The pros:
Seeing close up the mountain villages, the terraces of gardens and the rolling carpets of lush tea plantations sweeping across the slopes, the bustling Saturday markets, the very British army barracks, the massive cordite factory with very Indian security, the companionship of my fellow passengers.
The cons:
The heaving mass of travelers crammed onto the bus, the squash and squeeze of humanity as the bus creaked and groaned up the pass. The guard, bless him, gave me his seat. Given my recent infirmity, I couldn't stand easily, though it's a mystery to me anyway how people stand safely inside let alone hang on to the rails outside, as is commonplace, given the unpredictable, extreme motions of the bus.
The 'road' or rather lack of it, clings tightly to the hillside as the valley drops steeply away below. I could see the ground through the holes in the floor of the decrepit bus.
In fairness, at 20 pence for the round trip, it’s a bargain. Public transport here is incredibly cheap as so few people own a car and despite the rotten (literally) vehicles, it’s a great way to get around.
The journey took twice as long as it should have done due to the constant stopping to negotiate two vehicles passing on what is surely a single track road accompanied by much revving of engines, shouting and the blasting of horns.
My lunch stop in Coonoor in a shady park led to a fascinating conversation with a local retired doctor who told me that the Nilgiris have been damaged by large scale deforestation for tea planting over the last 40 years which is already leading to climate change in the area. An environmental issue certainly not in the tourist brochures but it makes sense and cast new light on the tea growing industry.
Back in Ooty I stocked up on the scrummy Ooty cake, sweet pastry triangles, more sugar to keep me going for the drive down to 'real' India tomorrow.
I shall miss the climate, the lack of smell (well, relatively speaking ), the cleanliness (ditto) and the higher standard of (tourist induced) living up here, where the electricity stays on in my rather extravagantly decorated room.
Ooty will stay in my memory as outstandingly different and absolutely amazing.
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