Trek at sunrise

Today we trekked up to the Chokra Mudi Peak, at roughly 7500 ft. The mist hadn't lifted from the valley when began. Church bells tolling far away bounced from one hillside to another. We climbed through paths of ash from burnt down grass, steep smooth rock, jungles with grasses nearly as tall as us, weeds yellowed from their nearness to the sun and terrain of all kinds. I wasn't hesitant to use my hands as we climbed. S, for whom this was the first trek, showed great spirit in completing it; this was far from the easiest hike. She hurt a weak ligament on her leg but was hardly shaken. There are times, when all that's on your mind is where your next step will be. At times your heart is racing, since a small slip can be quite costly. Our guide was extremely well equipped and environmentally conscious.

We had steamed bananas for the first time, which I must admit was far from tasty, but it was vital to have at the beginning. We even had some slimy passion fruit among the other regular kinds. But the points where we stopped for breaks on the way were just breathtaking. The winding roads deep below were like ribbons wrapping the mountains and at a distance, the hills became blue drapes, gradually engulfed in the mist. We seemed to be at the centre, a sole mountain in the middle of a vast valley, and surrounding us, in all directions almost in a circle seemed to be the great Western Ghats range. The highest peak in India, south of the Himalayas, Anai Mudi stared at us with it's bare steep stone walls.

The sky was clear and the sun's rays were like strong needles. The wind softened their tips. Though the wind apparently seemed to pose a bit of danger especially when navigating through particularly narrow ridges, it made you feel like you were flying. And of course it bred the sunburns (despite sunscreen lotion) that have been hurting me even today as I step out into the sun. Each time we climbed a part of the hill, a higher one suddenly became visible and it seemed like there was no end to it. At a high point, we were thrilled to spot some Nilgiri Tahr, mountain goats who seem to defy gravity living along the near-vertical hillsides! The peak itself seemed to be up on the sky, since there were no others close by. At the summit, the rock seemed to be carved into two seats, like thrones. But I think, once complacency settles in, or the ego swells up, the hills can mock you with potentially lethal consequences. Hills are so constant in their character, they become a mirror showing us who we are. Wonder what it would be like to be somewhere high upon the Himalayas.

The climb down was tricky and patience was the key. It isn't over until you've returned. We ended with smiles, climbing down the few man-made steps, clearly belying the path we had covered.

In the evening, we took a walk along the village roads, discovered a charming 100 year old stone-walled Church (where a priest invited us to a sermon the following morning), crossed a few bridges before having some absolutely delicious South Indian food at a reasonably priced but very famous restaurant called Shravana. I will remember the food (perhaps the tastiest of its kind I have ever had) and the enthusiastic person who served it, wearing a golf cap and an ample moustache characteristic of the region.