Ooty to Mysore

The most terrifying trip!  In my innocence I did not realise the way down from Ooty over the other side of the Ghats was notoriously dangerous, solid hairpin bends for over an hour, every corner displaying 'Free Mortuary Van' telephone numbers.

My driver prayed and I shut my eyes. Sod the view!

The silver lining of my injury forcing the necessity of car rather than bus was truly appreciated...I saw the bus trying to negotiate the 'road' and half of it was off the road suspended in mid air over a sheer drop.

The mountain we came down

Finally, with the engine overheating and brakes screaming, we reached the flatter valley floor, where we had to stop in a market town to let the engine (and us) cool down.
To my surprise, as we left Tamil Nadu the road to Mysore then winds through tiger and wildlife reserves with the most amazing scenery-which I could appreciate now I could open my eyes.

Trees lining the route

Monkeys stalked the side of the road, they have apparently got used to food being thrown to them and are keen on a varied diet of processed food as well as the vegetables thrown from the lorries which make the regular Mysore to Kerala trek with the produce Karnataka state is famous for.

Watching for food

Deer, antelopes and bison were visible in the trees but by far the most moving sighting was a family of elephants visible in the foliage, mother, baby and father with massive tusks standing protectively by his family.

Elephants along the way

Arriving exhausted in Mysore the heat of the city was an unpleasant shock, as was the rather basic 'hotel' with its missing bed sheets and bathroom so primitive the tap system is so complicated it needs instructions and I can have a shower and use the loo at the same time...and given the unpredictability of the water, even if I don't want a shower I tend to get one!

Despite my exhaustion I had been told that the Royal Palace illumination, done only on a Sunday night, was a ' not to be missed' attraction so I dragged myself out and into the crowds.

As the daylight faded I was convinced I would be too tired to care but after a gorgeous Pani Puri (potatoes, onions and chickpeas in a crispy fried ball) I had enough energy to appreciate the spectacle. And spectacular it was-100,000 plus light bulbs create a magical wonderland. The lights span the main palace and run along all four sides plus the towering four gates and temples, truly stunning.

The Palace illuminated on Sunday nights

Me exhausted at the end of the day

Enchanting Ooty

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.

Ooty - continued

Post train ride I thought maybe Ooty had 'peaked' but the following morning an auto (tuk tuk) jolting journey up the sheer forest slope to Doddabetta Peak offered yet more opportunities for awesome views and absorbing experiences.

The trip went as follows:
1. Negotiate amount.  Still not easy but it's getting easier with practice: I shall be bartering in Lewes without thinking on my return if I'm not careful.
2. Be terrified as ancient auto fails on hairpin bends, whereupon we slip slowly backwards down the hill until a flat ish section allows another 'run'.
3. Discover the stupendous vista at the highest peak of the Nilgiri hills and at 2623 the highest in south India, lying at the junction between western and Eastern Ghats.

Luckily I arrived in what turned out to be a fleeting moment between the mist and cloud as no sooner had I gawped in wonder at the valleys below then they vanished in swathes of white wisps.

Facts and Figures

View from Doddabetta before the mist descended

Who pinched the view?

An hour or so passed pleasantly bonding with others waiting for further glimpses, including meeting again by chance the honeymoon couple from Mumbai who had sat next to me on the train yesterday. Several cups of chai to take the chill away and a few more sudden sunshine breaks revealing the gorgeous Ghats and it was time to take my life in my hands and go back down.

My trusty transport - Auto Rickshaws struggle with the hills

Next stop on my negotiated itinerary was the Tea factory. This working plant allows visitors to follow the tea process from start to finish, surprisingly entrancing.  The tantalising smell was rewarded by free tea tasting at the end. Though as each blend was made milky and sweet I have no idea what the tea actually tasted like.
By now I had a yen to walk around an actual tea plantation. Revived by yet more tea and rich Indian cakes (my body must now be 90% sugar) I negotiated a trip back out into the hills.  Rather dubiously. But this driver was as good as his word, pulling his tuk tuk safely off the road and taking me on a tour of a local plantation along tiny paths criss crossing the lush green leafy bushes. The valley sides are lined with carpets of tea bushes or with terraces of market gardens, crops of carrots and cauliflower sold by the roadside at every turn.

Inside the Tea Factory - gorgeous smell

Me in the Tea Plantation

Tea one side, Vegetable garden on the other

So, armed with a working knowledge of the area from my tuk tuk outings, today I ventured out by bus to 'Valley View', a well known beauty spot. Half an hour out of the city and 5 rupees (5 pence) poorer -I cannot get used to how cheap everything is here-I was directed off the bus and  found myself alone by the side of a winding mountain road gazing out over what was indeed a magnificent valley view. Apparently one of the largest valleys in the world, although the habit of hyperbole is deep here.

The hillside above me was dotted with colourful temple guardian 'statues' so I began to climb, figuring figures lead to a temple. And I kept climbing....  Good job I'm used to hills. The strain on my hip was a worry but I hate being beaten. But there was a footpath with occasional steps carved into the side, just like being at home and heading up Kingston hill so I reckoned (hoped) there would be a destination.

My perseverance paid off. Hidden from outside, the path suddenly vanished into a cave in the rock face concealed by foliage. Inside was the temple where a holy man sat in solitary splendor waiting for visitors.  As I lurked outside the sound of women's voices announced the arrival of a local family coming to be blessed. They ushered me in with smiles, where for 10 rupees I was duly annointed, my forehead painted in red, yellow and white stripes and my hair covered in flowers.

I was then taken by the hand and escorted deep down into a lower cave where a further temple lay. These four local women, with no English but much laughter and sign language walked me through their daily ritual with genuine friendship. Their hands clasped mine to ensure I clambered safely back to the outside world before, with warm waves goodbye, they skipped barefoot back down the sheer slope, leaving me to gingerly slip and slide ungracefully to the bottom

Returning by bus I was touched to find men standing to offer me a seat, one of which I took gratefully as the crowded swaying vehicle lurched its painstaking way back down the rutted road to Ooty. The bus had seen better days, the driver had to take both hands of the wheel to force the gear lever,  I've been on  smoother rollercoasters and I alighted with a sigh of relief when we finally made it back.

Ooty is a true treasure, an oasis high above the rest of South India.  Only one more day of cool mountain air and breathtaking views before I will have to head back down from this restorative retreat. Oh, it 's wonderful up here!

Ooty.

This doesn't feel like India! In any way, from the temperature to the people. The population here dress in thick 'Toda' (hill  tribe) heavy woollen garments swathed in dark colours and this strange look was rather intimidating at first.
But in the last few days I've adjusted to cool air, unearthed my lurking jumper from the depths of my case, and discovered the gems up here high in the hill stations.
The highlight has to be travelling down to Coonoor on the Nilgiri mountain train.
Travelling on this steam train which rattles, chugs and groans slowly up and down the single track using the same system put in place when the line was originally built by the British in 1908 to transport tea down the mountain is like going back in time

Boarding the train

View from the train as we climb the hillside

I got a 'golden ticket' i.e. one of the 16 first class seats, by dint of queuing in the station on my very first morning. Well worth it. For three  pounds I avoided the rush and crush in second class and was able to ride in relative comfort. Relative in that the carriage was over a hundred years old! But we had sash windows(ish) useful for cutting down the biting wind, and padded seats-bliss for my aching bones.
So on my second day here I got up at dawn to catch the early morning  train down the mountain to Coonoor. As the sun rose we set off in billowing clouds of engine steam. Two splendid hours passed in a flash gazing in awe at the glorious hillside scenery, the tea plantations, tiny villages, Wellington Army base (not so tiny and guarded by security patrolling the station to check no photos!) the terraces of vegetable gardens and in places thick forest, which plunged us into sudden darkness.
Arriving in Coonoor I and another solo mature female, the first I have met, enjoyed each other’s company: the sights of Sims Park ...it's so wonderful to walk the parks as if in England, the peace is wonderful after the constant city hassle...the huge town market with its fragrant flowers masking the smell of the sewers and where I made the mistake of glancing up and seeing the stall roof being used as a tip, and admiring the skyline of churches and mosques. It seems as if catholics and muslims are in the majority here, there are few temples, again at odds with the India I am familiar with.

Modern India - A Mosque, A Church and an open sewer.

Coonoor flower Market

Checking out the roof is not a good idea!

In the late afternoon we boarded the train for the return, ushered on by railway staff who operate the train with a system of red/green flags from bygone times. This time our first class carriage was in front and we opened the windows to sit facing forward which gave me rather too close a view of the ancient rails and the sheer drop!  But, mesmerised by the reflections of the setting sun over the lush hills as we rocked and swayed slowly back up to Ooty, the journey is a memory which will stay with me for ever.

Engine arriving to push us back to Ooty

First Class splendour

 

Views over the hills on the way back

Views of the train

It's Cold!

OMG its cold up here in the hills. Last night the temp outside dropped to ten degrees, talk about a shock.  Luckily the room was warm from the daylight sun but the chill has taken me by surprise!  I came , I thought, prepared but after the intense inland heat the contrast is so sudden. Now I've adjusted it's like being back in an  English summer. A relief to be cool again after many weeks of being so hot.

This hotel kept their promise and have moved me to a room on the quieter side with a fabulous view of the hills. No traffic noise, now that's a first. Admittedly there's building racket everywhere as  usual and as this town is full of tourists and most of them seem to be staying here its not exactly quiet, but its a distinct improvement.

View from hotel window

I spent this morning in assorted queues at the railway station obtaining the 'golden ticket' to ride on the famous Nilgiri mountain train. Succeeded in getting a first class seat for tomorrow. it's cost  me three pounds rather than fifty pence so it had better be worth the outlay! Watch this space.

Off then to recuperate by the sparkling shores of Ooty Lake, a tourist must for the many who flock to Ooty.

Ooty Lake

There are a few westerners here (more than elsewhere I've been so far)  but by far the majority of visitors are Indian, in the main Muslim. I couldn't resist paying the extortionate 20 pence to visit The Thread Garden, a vastly overhyped artificial flower garden, which was so extravagantly described it was hilarious just to see a collection of collage flower pots against a painted backdrop. Typical India.

This afternoon I wandered down to the Botanical Gardens, thinking it would be the usual small park, only to find myself in what could easily pass for a National Trust garden in England. A rose garden, sunken gardens, conservatories with gorgeous blooms of every description, cacti displays everywhere,  lakes full of water lillies and flower filled  ponds , topiary...the paths wove their way up hill and down hill and by the time the sun began to set I was exhausted, especially as I'm still not anywhere near my best fitness wise.  Another unexpected delight. Ooty is proving to be literally a breath of fresh air.

Botanical Gardens 

Topiary in the gardens

In the conservatory

Sunset in the gardens

Ooty

And so I bid a fond farewell to Madurai and set off for the hill country and the cool mountains air of Ooty.

Fresh Mountain Air

The legacy of being gored by the cow during the Pongal crowds still lingers and makes it impossible for me to travel by bus as planned so I am "forced"  to take an expensive taxi. In fairness this is a unexpected luxury as it meant I "had' to spend six hours in an a\c car rather than 12 hours jammed into an overcrowded bus.
And as the final fifty miles of this lengthy trip involves a steep climb to the 2200 metres to the place also known as 'the queen of the hills' around continuous hairpin bends weaving around buses, lorries, motorbikes, everyone determined to be ahead of the next vehicle. I felt carsick in the taxi so was heartily grateful to be excused the bus!
The scenery is stunning. Between shutting my eyes to not see oncoming traffic encounters I was blown away (Literally , windows down as we had to turn the a\c off to stop the engine over heating) by the lush mountain ravines of the Nilgiri range, the blue mountains of India.
As we climbed higher and higher the tea plantations opened up before us, vivid green sheets blanketing the sheer slopes.

Tea Plantations

It was late afternoon when I arrived at this ‘residency',  very plush on the surface, surreal even, I  have a suite with its own colour changing chandelier, Bollywood style, but as usual it being India, underneath the surface the hot water is turned off at 10pm and I suspect much else may come and go, like wifi. .. Um, reserving judgement.

The Chandelier

This town looks so different to hot, dusty Madurai. Here the evening air is chilly and the moon shines brightly in a clear sky and the vista is limitless, I am literally on the top of the mountain. The drive was an exhilarating but exhausting experience and exploring further can wait, I need to sleep!

Food glorious food

India's food has always been a delight for me; the luxury of the vegetarian norm, the luscious sweets, the sharp strong spices, the abundance of nuts, almonds and figs..'these are a few of my favourite things' and today I got to indulge my greed in abundance.
Visiting the rock temple of Thirupparnkundram (of which more  later) I found myself in a village where every hall was hosting the sunday social gathering. What I first took to be wedding feasts were, in the main, just weekly get-togethers, and in India hospitality is important. So as I walked through the village I found myself invited to join in, with cries of welcome and genuine beckoning hands. Eventually one persistent group overcame my native reluctance and inside I went.

My Lunch Hosts

A bamboo leaf plate was placed in front of me and I joined the rows seated at the long wooden table where I was served a gorgeous selection of food, sweet and savoury rices veg biryani, popadums and the most wonderful intensely sweet thick creamy drink to finish.
There was so much food, it just kept coming, every time I finished a portion the communal pot appeared and more was ladelled on, all washed down with copious refills of drinking water , very welcome in the midday heat, even inside the dark hall the temperature was 30 plus.
Fortunately my newfound ability to eat with one hand was met with grateful smiles from one and all... I had a feeling  the elder contingent were rather worried when I was ushered into the hall but once they saw I understood the social norms their faces cleared with relief.
The main problem was not the eating but stopping the food coming!! I finally managed to edge away from the table to chat with some teenagers, who had a little English and to take the obligatory pictures of one and all. And then I was waved on my way by the entire community who gathered at the entrance to see me off.
More food kept coming today. It being Sunday, the temples hold communal meals and as I visited the various temples on my 'to see' list I found myself inevitably being invited to eat with everyone. It is impossible to refuse and I began to feel like Dawn French in the classic Xmas dinner episode of The Vicar of Dibley.
So as well as remembering the splendid temples of Madurai I will always associate this city with food. One further anecdote, at the Ghandi museum earlier in my stay when I asked someone where I could buy a snack he unhesitatingly handed over his parcel of warm rice, insisting I must take it despite my protestations. A delicious lunch made sweeter by the kindess of locals.
And tallking of temples...Thirupparankundram was another unexpected joy in a city which has been full of delights.  The temple sits in the rock face on the outskirts of Madurai, half an hour away by auto rickshaw (going out-cost one pound fifty) or an hour by bus (coming back- ten pence!). I was privileged to be allowed in to see the junior devotees at their studies but declined to join the 30 minute queue for the free dharsan(blessing) not least as I thought the lurking monkeys would have my bag off my back by then.

Rock Shrine at Thirupparankundram

I can see you up there!

Holy orders study

Temple roof

Returning by bus , and being given yet more food by my fellow passengers, this time sour plums which everyone eats-and no, they were probably not washed but I did not want to refuse-I spent a pleasant hour or so shopping in the temple bazaars, a warren of tiny alleys but a cool  haven, and got away with only buying  a shawl. This market lies in the shadow of the ancient city walls and the entrance is marked by an enormous statue of the sacred cow.

I cannot escape the cow, and whilst I am feeling better and stronger, I am still fragile and genuinely terrified of cows!  Even the statue gave me the creeps.

Cows on every corner!

By chance I was in the right place to see the temple procession at Sri Meenakshi Amman, led, needless to say, by a massive decorated bull. Every temple has an assortment of floats ready and waiting but tonight’s parade was, yep, in honour of the cow.

Temple floats ready for the procession

Temple procession

Holy Hands

Bazaar near the temple

I have enjoyed Madurai, the temples here are the finest I have seen in south India. My time with Jean Claude and Josette was an asset too in a city full of great attractions.
This 'hotel' has served me well. My compact room at least means I will not have to pack tomorrow as I've not been able to unpack but there are extras such as a kettle (wonder of wonders), the a/c and wifi work (miracles of miracles) and the staff are sweet.
At  breakfast today to my  surprise there was a table of white english speaking guests. I rushed over to introduce myself to what turned out to be an Intrepid tour group. As twice I have contemplated taking their tours, here and in Cambodia, and each time have decided to go solo, it was an amazing coincidence to catch up with a group here in this small hotel.
Interestingly, the overall impression I got was that this group were not happy with their guide, and as we bonded over our British cornflakes and exchanged traveller’s tales I felt happier about my choice to go it alone.
I miss the security of company and crave the luxury of not having to worry about transport (I have spent most of this evening confirming tomorrows transport, oh, nothing ever works as it should here, so a simple transaction takes hours of frustrating waiting until the final call) but equally it is a privilege to be able to take each day as it comes, to be able to enjoy the generosity of strangers and to wander at whim.
Tomorrow, hopefully, I move on to Ooty. The hill country awaits.