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.