Yellow shorts go on safari...

Having chatted until midnight with Meena and Ravi getting up at dawn to go on a safari in the Nagarhole national park was a struggle. Nagarhole translates from the local Kannada language as snake stream. We arrived to find the jeap waiting for us. This could fit up to six people, and we were sharing it for the morning with an Indian photographer and his friend. The other space was filled by his enormous camera. He proudly told us he had had some pictures published in the Daily Mail. Edd quickly decided he was wearing the wrong outfit for the occasion. Everyone else was in camouflage or Khaki, whereas Edd was wearing his bright yellow shorts.

We headed off into the park, passing seemingly innumerable deer to the point where either the tigers don't really like to eat them, or the Tigers have become so obese that they no longer hunt them. The former seemed more likely as we drove past a rotting bison carcass. This was killed two days ago, and since then four tigers have apparently passed by to have a pick at it. Sadly this morning it appeared they have all overslept so we headed back to the bumpy track.

The next great excitement was a rustling in the bushes. 'Elephants, elephants' said the guide with some excitement flinging a pair of binoculars over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was an elephants bottom hastily departing into the undergrowth.

We drove on, past deer and storks, as well as a turtle sitting on a branch above a pond. There was a ginger fluffy rodent sitting at the top of a tree, which later turned out to be a Malar flying squirrel. Sadly it was not in flight at the time.

The next excitement was what the guide referred to as 'tiger scat', as he bobbed up and down excitedly from his driving seat in order to get a better view. I don't want to demean tiger poo, but it is not nearly as impressive in construct or size as elephant poo. Whereas elephant poo is statuesque, tiger poo is a little bit like sheep poo- best described as a smudge of dark brown pellets. That excitement over we were back on the track in the bouncy jeep.

All the bouncing was not helping my bladder, which was full by this point with a large mug of black tea and probably a good litre of bottled water. I was beginning to weigh up whether asking the driver to stop would precipitate a tiger getting an easy breakfast.

I soon forgot all about this though, as just as we were crossing another track three more  wild elephant bottoms zoomed into view. The guide drove the jeep alongside them, and we watched two female elephants and a baby elephant munch on a breakfast of leaves.

After a few minutes it became apparent that they were watching us as much as we were watching them. The baby and one female was ushered into the bushes and the matriarch stood staring at us inspecting our every move. I'm not sure what sparked her next actions. Having sent the video via whatsapp to Oli (a friend of Edd's) about what happened next he suggested that Edd might have tried one of his legendary chat up lines on the matriarch, as shouting and running is apparently a normal female response. Either way the jeep had to move pretty sharply as the matriarch trumpeted and ran at us. After we moved slightly further away she resumed her breakfast. We had to return to the safari base all to soon, and eventually left her to her leaves.

We then headed out in a taxi to explore the Coorg region a bit more. Our first stop was the Tibetan refugee camp. This may seem a slight geographic dislocation, but Karnataka state government gave some barren land to over 10,000 Tibetans when they were fleeing the 1959 Chinese invasion. This is a very developed refugee camp, complete with 3300 monks, and a spectacular temple. We wondered round the temple. A music lesson was going on and what sounded like out of tune bagpipes competed with drums on the edge of the temple complex. We headed out to one of the local Tibetan towns for a wonderful lunch of Momos (Tibetan dumplings) and large steamed buns with vegetable 'gravy.' 

In the afternoon we stopped at some gardens on the edge of the Kaveri river. These were a little eccentric, and created the distinct impression that we had stumbled on the Butlins of India (possibly with a little less health and safety...) 

It had cooled down substantially by the time we reached the last stop of the day, which was a tea estate. Perhaps a little controversially given the recent issues in the steel industry this was the 'Tata tea estate'. Coorg is a coffee growing area, and this is the sole tea estate in the vicinity. It was beautifully geometric, with each plot labelled with the year of planting, and latest year of trimming. Most of the plants seemed to have been planted in 1917! 

We then headed back for another wonderful supper with Meena and Ravi on the veranda.

The safari of the yellow shorts

Having chatted until midnight with Meena and Ravi getting up at dawn to go on a safari in the Nagarhole national park was a struggle. Nagarhole translates from the local Kannada language as snake stream. We arrived to find the jeap waiting for us. This could fit up to six people, and we were sharing it for the morning with an Indian photographer and his friend. The other space was filled by his enormous camera. He proudly told us he had had some pictures published in the Daily Mail. Edd quickly decided he was wearing the wrong outfit for the occasion. Everyone else was in camouflage or Khaki, whereas Edd was wearing his bright yellow shorts.

We headed off into the park, passing seemingly innumerable deer to the point where either the tigers don't really like to eat them, or the Tigers have become so obese that they no longer hunt them. The former seemed more likely as we drove past a rotting bison carcass. This was killed two days ago, and since then four tigers have apparently passed by to have a pick at it. Sadly this morning it appeared they have all overslept so we headed back to the bumpy track.

The next great excitement was a rustling in the bushes. 'Elephants, elephants' said the guide with some excitement flinging a pair of binoculars over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was an elephants bottom hastily departing into the undergrowth.

We drove on, past deer and storks, as well as a turtle sitting on a branch above a pond. There was a ginger fluffy rodent sitting at the top of a tree, which later turned out to be a Malar flying squirrel. Sadly it was not in flight at the time.

The next excitement was what the guide referred to as 'tiger scat', as he bobbed up and down excitedly from his driving seat in order to get a better view. I don't want to demean tiger poo, but it is not nearly as impressive in construct or size as elephant poo. Whereas elephant poo is statuesque, tiger poo is a little bit like sheep poo- best described as a smudge of dark brown pellets. That excitement over we were back on the track in the bouncy jeep.

All the bouncing was not helping my bladder, which was full by this point with a large mug of black tea and probably a good litre of bottled water. I was beginning to weigh up whether asking the driver to stop would precipitate a tiger getting an easy breakfast.

I soon forgot all about this though, as just as we were crossing another track three more  wild elephant bottoms zoomed into view. The guide drove the jeep alongside them, and we watched two female elephants and a baby elephant munch on a breakfast of leaves.

After a few minutes it became apparent that they were watching us as much as we were watching them. The baby and one female was ushered into the bushes and the matriarch stood staring at us inspecting our every move. I'm not sure what sparked her next actions. Having sent the video via whatsapp to Oli (a friend of Edd's) about what happened next he suggested that Edd might have tried one of his legendary chat up lines on the matriarch, as shouting and running is apparently a normal female response. Either way the jeep had to move pretty sharply as the matriarch trumpeted and ran at us. After we moved slightly further away she resumed her breakfast. We had to return to the safari base all to soon, and eventually left her to her leaves.

We then headed out in a taxi to explore the Coorg region a bit more. Our first stop was the Tibetan refugee camp. This may seem a slight geographic dislocation, but Karnataka state government gave some barren land to over 10,000 Tibetans when they were fleeing the 1959 Chinese invasion. This is a very developed refugee camp, complete with 3300 monks, and a spectacular temple. We wondered round the temple. A music lesson was going on and what sounded like out of tune bagpipes competed with drums on the edge of the temple complex. We headed out to one of the local Tibetan towns for a wonderful lunch of Momos (Tibetan dumplings) and large steamed buns with vegetable 'gravy.' 

In the afternoon we stopped at some gardens on the edge of the Kaveri river. These were a little eccentric, and created the distinct impression that we had stumbled on the Butlins of India (possibly with a little less health and safety...) 

It had cooled down substantially by the time we reached the last stop of the day, which was a tea estate. Perhaps a little controversially given the recent issues in the steel industry this was the 'Tata tea estate'. Coorg is a coffee growing area, and this is the sole tea estate in the vicinity. It was beautifully geometric, with each plot labelled with the year of planting, and latest year of trimming. Most of the plants seemed to have been planted in 1917! 

We then headed back for another wonderful supper with Meena and Ravi on the veranda. 

 

Brahamagiri Trek

I woke up at 4am. The evening before  Ravi and Meena had shown us where the wild elephants had crossed the estate a few nights ago. Large footsteps were left in the mud along with large mounds of elephant poo. A straight line of destruction  led from a nearby bush into the pond. Where by the looks of the holes in the banks ,the elephants had enjoyed an exuberant midnight paddle. Lying in bed I wondered at every soft crunch outside whether an elephant was going for another midnight bath, and considered whether it was likely I'd be able to see it from the window if it did.  However, I must have drifted back to sleep again, as I woke at 7 to a soft knock on the door, and a large flask of black tea.

The morning was fresh compared to the sticky evening before. No thunderstorm had materialised (which was a large disappointment because there hasn't been rain for here for a month and the coffee could do with a good water.) However, the hills in the distance were draped in a pale blue mist, and there was a thick dew on the grass. I ate a light breakfast of homemade marmalade (with mandarin oranges from the estate.) Edd didn't because there was no wheetabix.

There are many things you don't want to happen when you are about to climb a hill in the height of the Indian summer. One of the main ones is for the sole detach from your walking boot to fall off, and another one is that you didn't take your hat on holiday (despite the fact your grandfather reminded you to do so.) However, our wonderful hosts Meena and Ravi realised my predicament. They leant me a pair of walking shoes (that fitted well with the extra thick socks which are essential for 35 degree heat) and most importantly a hat- that unlike all the ones I own managed to both be stylish and practical. 

Girish the estate manager had persuaded an unwilling trekking guide to take us on a tour despite there being only two of us. He and Rakesh (Meena and Ravis driver) gave us a lift the Iruppu falls, which is the starting point for the trek into the Brahmagiri hills. These hills draw the boundary line between the states of Karnataka and Kerala. The grass on the top of the hills are scorched a brown purple colour at this time of year by the sun. By a strange coincidence this looks a similar colour to Scottish heather, and I suspect is one reason this area is called the Scotland of India. 

We began the trek by walking into the forest which carpeted three quarters of the hills, with only the peak rising cleanly above the tree line. Unfortunately in this area you need a guide. Our guide was a slight man called Gomi, he looked very much like he might have come from one of the local tribes, many of which are now employed by the Indian government to work in the national forests; however, he didn't speak much English so we never really got to that level of conversation. What we did get was the distinct sense that Gommi was very concerned about what was round the next corner. Each edge of the track was approached cautiously. He slowly edged his weight onto his front foot and leaned as much of his body round as possible around whilst keeping his back foot firmly planted on the ground- ready to retreat at any moment. We never did learn exactly what he was looking for. However, given the warning signs at the beginning of the park, it could easily have been things to eat us (leopard or tiger)chase us (wild elephants) or in the classic version of Indian wild animal cluedo poison us (the Cobra.)  Despite Gommi's caution no wild animals appeared, and we raced the rising temperature to the top of the Brahamagiri hill range. 

Climbing was sweaty and hot. Edd employed various motivational tactics to keep me walking. One was farting with such intensity that all living things immediately felt the need to leave the vicinity, and the second was comparing me to an African elephant as I lumbered up another bit of the trail. (African elephants are bigger than Indian elephants apparently...)

We finally reached the jungle lodge at the top of the hill. It was a low blue building, which had one strong architectural feature, and that was a strange crumpling effect of a window near the front porch, which unnervingly looked like an elephant had decided to sit on it. We had our lunch, which was a feast of paratha and spiced potato. 

We then began the descent, at which pint Edd developed a strong depression that this was not a mountain bike holiday, and he had no bike with him to carry him down the 'rad' trail of the mountain. 

After drinking many litres of water we reached the bottom, and cooled off by sitting and watching the waterfall.

We then headed back to more excellent cooking from Meena and Devchand the cook. Ravi and Meena have lived all over the world, and we spent a long time discussing world politics with them late into the night.

Onwards to Coorg

We scrambled around in the morning to buy a last few things from Mysore. I was tempted to buy a wooden picture, which seemed to have Jesus clothed in tiger skins officiating  at the last supper. But despite the unique kitsch attraction of this object I couldnt quite face lugging it around India. 

For the next step of the adventure we are heading out to Coorg (Kodagu). This is a coffee growing hillstation close to Mysore, with the western gnats running up the middle like a spine. The area is famous for its homestays on platations, which are set amongst the hills of the region. 

We were off to stay at Turtlepond, which is a coffe plantation near Kutta in the south, only a handful of kilometres from the Kerala border.  The region is famous for its homestays, and Turtlepond is one of these.  We were about to embark on a epic local bus journey when Meena who runs the estate offered to give us a lift from Mysore. We met Meena and her husband Ravi in Hotel Metropole, a beautiful old heritage hotel, for  coffee before we headed out on the journey to coorg.

Mysore is a couple of hours from Coorg, and very excitingly we had to drive through the Nagarhole national park to get there. All eyes were peeled as we headed through in the hope of seeing a tiger or a wild elephant. One thing is for certain the tigers round here are well fed, we saw so many deer! The deer look a little bit like Bambi, with plenty of spots, and are surprisingly well camouflaged.

Just as we were about to leave the national park we rounded the corner to find a line of elephants marching along the side of the road. The presence of the mahouts soon confirmed these were not wild. In fact the elephants were carrying bundles of branches in their trunks (apparently this was their evening meal.)

We arrived at the estate to find we were being upgraded from the wonderful little Estonian huts to a beautiful room overlooking the plantation. Meena and Ravi took us on a tour around the estate, and we saw lemongrass, pepper trees, jack fruit, bettal trees, and plenty of coffee. The evening finished off with a delicious dinner on the veranda, with the fireflies intermittently dancing outside. 

I have had a beer and now want to drive a tuk tuk..

I woke up at the dawn call to prayer, which echoed across the city from the nearby mosque. I went straight back to sleep, but woke again an hour later to Edd's complaints that the BMW I8 literature he had bought with him was all copywriters bullshit, and there was hardly any technical specifications-(well who would have guessed that!?). 

We then went out for a brekafast of idilis which are Indian rice cakes with a coconut sauce that looks a bit like porridge, with a serving next to them of what only can be described as green (very tasty) gunge. 

After this morning feast Edd was keen to do some exercise, so we then took a tuk tuk to the edge of the town to climb the 1000 pilgrim steps to the top of a hill and a temple. In front of us a devout hindu lady bent to place two spots of colour on each step, whilst her husband walked in front of her palpably annoyed at her slowness, and intermittently playing loud music from his iphone, which led to quite a lot of glowering and increased slowness from the lady in question. We left them to a brewing domestic, and continued up the hill past a couple of monkeys, and a rock carved into the shape of a bull and garlanded in jasmine flowers. 

The temple at the top was surrounded by a market. There seemed to be a very blurred line between these two establishments. The devout bought coconuts and jasmine flowers for the gods at the market, before taking them to the corner of the temple labelled 'coconut smashing area', and then presenting the remains at the alter.

We then headed back to the town for a bit of shopping.  We wondered round the market, which has been in the same place for the last three hundred years. Not much has changed, and the narrow alleyways contained overflowing vegetable, flower, and perfume shops-as well as corners for knife sharpening and jewellery. 

Edd had definitely bought more clothes with him than I had so I persuaded him to go shopping. We spotted some really cool maxi dresses in one of the windows. I spent quite a while finding the right colour, and was just asking the sales girl whether there was a local tailor that I could tailor it, when her colleague dropped a bomb shell that this item of clothing was in fact a nightie. I eventually ended up with a green tunic and leggings, this was nothing short of a miracle after what Edd was doing to the shop mannequins.

We finished off the day with a drink at a rooftop bar in one of the smarter hotels (definitely not the one we were staying in.) On the way back the tuk tuk driver made the mistake of leaving the vehicle for a minute to get some change. I turned round to find Edd playing with the tuk tuk controls. Apparently he had 'had a beer and now wanted to drive a tuk tuk.' Fortunately for all concerned the tuk tuk driver reappeared at this moment...

Sent from my iPad

Sent from my iPad

An elephant sized adventure

For all concerned about the fate of the nivea- it fortunately appeared just before we left- from the depths of a cycling bag.

We landed in Bangalore at 4.30am. It would have been sensible to have tried to sleep on the flight, but watching the latest James Bond and stockpiling large amounts of gin and tonic proved too tempting. (We now have 200ml of gin and a tiny bit of tonic- but we're yet to find the crucial fridge.)

We then found a  local bus, and went first to the sattelite bus station in Bangalore, and then onwards to Mysore. We are being profligate with our money and chose air conditioned class for the four hour bus journey. This came to the pricely sum of roughly £2.50 ticket- (non aircon was £1.70.)

It was an enormous relief to reach the hotel- and more importantly a shower. It is seriously hot here-35c according to my phone.After a short nap, and a decent wash we headed out to find some food. Im a fairly messy eater at the best of times, but eating  rice, vegetable curry and dahl with my fingers proved to be a disastrous business. It wasn't long before I was wearing quite a bit of it. Bright splashes of yellow dahl all down your front isnt a fashion look I'd recommend. The restaurants seem to all serve lunch off banana leaves, which certainly saves the washing up! 

Trying not to fall asleep was the goal for the rest of the afternoon- so we headed off to the palace. This was rebuilt in the late 19th after a fire decimated the previous one. It was stunning involving stained glass windows, plenty of colours, murals, and steel from the glasgow steel works! To go into the palace you had to take your shoes off, which was fine until you stepped off the carpet onto the paving slabs, which had been baked by the sun to a searing temperature. 

We then wondered round the corner and found the marharajas elephants. There was a brief debate about whether it was ethical to pay for a ride on them, before happily parting with 100 ruppees (94p) to climb aboard. It was surprsingly uncomfortable, and the gait felt quite sharp. I wouldn't have liked to ride into battle or try to shoot a tiger from one- I don't understand how you could have a steady hand. However, elephants are super cool, and Edd now wants one. 

Edd has been a great hit with the locals, Im not sure whether it is the bushy sideburns, or the flurescent yellow shorts, but everyone wants their picture taken with him. To be honest it might not just be Edd western tourists seem to be a bit of a novelty in themselves- even half way through day two, we have still only seen three others.

The temperature after four o'clock became a lot more bearable. We ambled around the palace grounds and the nearby streets for quite a bit. One comment 'where do you think the elephants live?' Gave us a new purpose and we rapidly turned from elephant groupies into superfans- and began the hunt for elephant stables. Just as the dusk was setting in we managed to (sort of) inadvertently walk past a security guard, and then found the elephants stabled- under a big dutch barn. The mahoot beckoned us over and we got to pat and talk to the elephants again. They were having a large supper of green rushes. The mahoot then suggested we ride one of the elephants. On command the elephant knelt and we climbed up behind his ears. On your own without a harness it felt a very long way up- fortunately we weren't about to gallop off into the sunset as the elephant was chained to a nearby concrete block. 

We then headed back to the palace  to see it lit up. It is only lit up on festivals and sunday evenings, and is covered in thousands of small light bulbs. I have tried many times to upload a picture here, but unfortunately the techonology has beaten me- but I have managed to upload a picture of it (and some other pictures) to this website if you would like to see it: https://www.instagram.com/flurrywight/

Having decided the palace looked a little bit like disneyland we headed back finally to bed- it felt like a very long day!

Packing...

It is 2.5 hours before we head off to heathrow, Edd has just started packing. Luckily he has written himself a list. The latest autocar magazine is the third item on it (after passport and ipad) but far above the clothes and black shoe polish (!?).

We fly out at 2.25pm. I can just about believe we're flying to India today, but am struggling to fathom that I'm going on holiday by a means of transport that doesnt't involve getting up before dawn.

Update: Packing seems to have been halted for the moment by the absense of a tub of nivea. Things are heading downhill quickly- Im being accused of hiding it. Luckily he has found a BMW I8 brochure, which also seems to now be joining us for the holiday, possibly in the place of the nivea.

We land in Bangalore at 4.00am tomorrow morning. Apparently the name Bangalore translates as 'town of boiled beans'. Sounds promising for breakfast- although not sure how Edd is going to cope without his cereal.

The nivea crisis is developing and Edd has asked me to make note of the fact he is now EXTREMELY unhappy that he cant find his pot of nivea. Although he has at least now reached the point of  folding the clothes and muttering he is employing 'great cunning' in his packing technique.

When we land we are going to hopefully catch a train to Mysore- which is about 3 hours away from Bangalore, its going to be a long day- especially if Edd can't find his Nivea.

Sequels are always tricky, sadly I struggled to find an Indian animal with as much -erm unique-charisma and ubiquity as a llama. (Although considering how sick of Llamas I was by the end of south america blog maybe that is a good thing. ) My greatest inspiration for travel writing is Harry Horse (if you havent read the last of the polar bears-you haven't lived). I considered writing up an expedition along the lines of in search of the wild Corgis. (We are off to the region of Coorg-where Im convinced Corgis must have come from.) But given the recent visit of William and Kate to the region I think they might have surreptitiously ticked that box. (Although I think there are parallels between the dog Ru and Edd...)  Mum suggested Tiger Lily and the lost boy, unfortunately on closer inspection Tiger Lily was american indian, which is a little confusing...

Anyway packing is almost done. Edd thinks the Nivea may have been left in Somerset, and we are almost ready for the off...