A torch, a camera and an umbrella

School Thota, Coorg.

Picture this. It's a dark rainy night in the monsoon in Coorg. Outside a 160 year old bungalow in the middle of a huge coffee estate, there's a curious shape on the lawn. It's part umbrella and part drenched human backside, lit by the glow of a torch, and the occasional flash.

Well, that's me... kneeling on the lawn, juggling a torch, a camera and an umbrella, trying to take a photograph of a nocturnal frog in the rain. The frog turned out to be rhacophorus lateralis, an endangered nest building frog, endemic to the Western Ghats.

For the two days I spent at School Thota, I was pampered by Mrs. Saraswathi Aiyappa with the best of Coorgi cuisine. Pandi curry, of course, with kadumbuttu and papputtu. Kai puli (bitter orange) squash, chutney, and the fresh, and extremely sour, fruit. Bamboo shoot curry with akki roti. I explored the estate in the rain, grinned maniacally at the few cars I happened to see, watched sunbirds fight each other for the best hibiscus blooms and vernal hanging parrots messily eat guavas from the tree.

Oh yes, thank you Amara! What wouldn't I give to be seven again!

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The N Family

Coorg.

Last year's visit to the Synthesis Homestay made me a new friend, Namratha. Her parents, Naresh and Namita, took such excellent care of us that when she said she was going home for the holidays, I offered to drive her home. And in the process, I invited myself to their estate again.

Since it was the monsoon, I expected it to be raining heavily and constantly for the entire weekend, so I planned to sit in the patio with cups of tea getting my fill of dripping green. As it turned out, the rains stayed away, mostly, and I ended up with a bunch of highlights: Blue bearded bee-eater, what a blue! Pork for every meal. Shield tail snake, Uropeltidae, while walking at night. Crested Serpent Eagle sitting close enough to identify without binoculars. Buff-striped keelback at my feet. Namratha as a guide to the estate.

And then when I got back to town, I learned that Shield-tailed snakes are only found in the Western Ghats! And what I've spent my life calling hammerhead leeches are really terrestrial planaria, or flatworms! There's still so much to learn.

Oh, and the Ns are seriously wonderful hosts!

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One Not-so-rainy Monsoon Weekend

Dandeli.

The long awaited monsoon trip to Dandeli finally happened. The Friday evening traffic did give us a scare but Ajmal knows his way around and after waiting a longish while under a cloud of passing fruit bats, we made it to Yesvantpur well in time for our train to Hubli.

The short walk from the Dandeli bus stop to the Kali Adventure camp passes over the Kali river. Cinnamon Bitterns and Little Herons aplenty roost on the banks and on the little rock islands under the bridge. The surprise of the morning was the huge White-bellied Sea Eagle that flew gracefully over us as it headed upstream. The Brahminy Kite looked so small in comparison. At the camp gate, we spotted a Rufous Woodpecker and a Black Rumped Flameback. When we finally made it to the camp, all of us had neckaches from lugging our bags along while peering through our binoculars.

Malabar Grey Hornbills and Malabar Pied Hornbills argued raucously in the trees above our tents as we washed the unsanitary smell of the Indian Railways from our nasal memories. The rest of the morning was spent walking through the forest department nursery and the forest beyond. An uneventful safari in the Dandeli National Park after lunch resulted in us wondering if there really were any mammals in the forest. We didn't see anything at all! No deer, no bison... nothing for any invisible black panthers to prey on.

Back at camp, darkness came along with calling frogs and glowing worms. The view from our tents was of the paper mill spewing smoke into the orange-hued sky above the trees. The guides told us that no one had been to the Cavala caves since the monsoons began and that there would be leeches and that it was King Cobra breeding season - reasons for us steer clear of the caves - and so we decided that that would be our destination in the morning.

The walk to the Cavala caves starts from the end of one of the safari paths in the Dandeli forest. The intrepid couple that accompanied us on this hike soon found us stopping for every little creature along the forest floor - frogs, spiders, ants, mushrooms, caterpillars, millipedes - each one got its turn in front of our cameras. Suddenly, there was the sound not unlike the rotors of a helicopter accompanied by a loud buzz. I ducked thinking that someone had disturbed a beehive, but the guide grabbed me by the shoulder and pointed into the canopy. Above me, I saw the sunlight shining through the yellow stripe in the wings of a Great Indian Hornbill. And I was left gaping in wonder as it flapped and buzzed its way over the valley to the opposite ridge. And I gaped some more as three more of these huge, beautiful birds that inhabit this patch of forest took off into the distance. Only when they were gone did I realize that I had not even pointed my camera at the hornbills! Oh well, photos in the mind.... photos in the mind....

It took us four hours to make it to the stairs that led down to the caves. The algae on the stairs and the sudden appearance of a steeply diving hornbill resulted in Shreeram landing on his rather substantial backside which in turn resulted in a raft of poor jokes about the invention of chapatis and other such flattened preparations. The ceiling of the cave is covered in thousands of bats (false vampires, perhaps) and while we were examining the bats through our binoculars, Suma spotted a snake up amongst them. On closer examination, it turned to be a Forsten's cat snake in the act of swallowing one of the bats! And from its distended stomach, it looked like the bat was the third in the line. We found one more cat snake coiled in the holes in the limestone ceiling. The walk back to the jeep took just a little more than an hour.

In the evening, we visited Syntheri Rock, a large monolith being slowly worn away by the raging Kali River. The whistling schoolboy, the Malabar Whistling Thrush was hopping on the rocks by the water. The rocks, where they were wet, had little tadpoles with bluish spots heading off to become frogs. The rock face has nesting swifts and the hives of rock bees and fruiting wild banana trees.

The last morning, we visited the Old Magazine House at Ganeshgudi where the guide said we would see many birds, but by the time we got there, the sun was already high in the sky and apart from a Ruby-throated Bulbul and a soaring pair of Crested Serpent Eagles we didn't see much in the way of birds. However, we found a huge Tarantula nest in the mud near one of the huts at the Old Magazine House, but we'd have had to have been there at night to catch a sight of the spider. We did spot a rat snake by the road and Romit saw another one high up on a bamboo.

Back at the camp, we relaxed until it was time to catch the bus to Hubli and the train back to Bangalore. It was a trip with much to remember, the snakes in the bat cave, the Great Indian Hornbills, the White-bellied Sea Eagle, but mainly, it was memorable because of the meeting of so many curious minds.

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At The Edge

Onake Abbe, Agumbe.

I sat on a rock with my feet dangling dizzyingly high above the dive pool. Beside me, the water rippled around my fingers and dove unhesitating over the edge. The wind gently blew the cool spray back into my face as I looked over the rain-forest far below. Behind me, the path wound through the dense, dark forest of pit vipers and leeches that I hope will deter many a monsoon trekker.

I sat on the rock and dreamed. I dreamed I was an eagle, soaring unbounded over giant trees and crystal streams. And I despaired in my heart for I knew that my being there was a sign that man was at the doorstep.

I'd rather be a forest than a street. Yes, I would. If I could, I surely would.

- Simon & Garfunkel (El Condor Pasa)

Bridges and Tunnels

Yedakumari.

Five years ago, we had trekked along this unused railway track that wound its way through tunnels and over bridges in the Western Ghats from Donigal to Edukumeri. The plan had been to spend the night at the railway station and trek onward to Kukke Subramanya, but exhaustion got the better of a couple of us, and we had hitched a ride back to civilisation and come back to Bangalore. A feeling of incompleteness has nagged me ever since, especially since someone told me that the trek beyond Edukumeri is far more scenic.

And so I set off again with tent and sleeping bag and enthusiastic company. The Mangalore KSRTC bus dropped us at Manjarabad Fort in a chaotic deadlock of vehicles at 5:30 am. It was four kilometres on the tarmac before we found the path onto the tracks. From there, the just past monsoon ensured that the "green route" lived up to its name. The flowering grasses waving in the breeze and screeching Racket-tailed Drongos accompanied us on the eighteen kilometres from there to the station at Edukumeri. The grass seeds attracted many Black-throated Munias. Noticeably missing were the thousands of bats that had lived in the thirty-five tunnels the last time I walked the track - yes, the same ones that had pissed on us - what a waste of the cap I bought to shelter my head from the unwanted conditioning! The butterflies were present in large numbers - Common Bluebottles, Lemon Pansies, Chocolate Pansies, Eggflies, Common Lascars, Common Sailers, Blue Mormons, Southern Birdwings were the ones I could identify. A few goods trains passed languidly by giving us ample time to get out of the way. Just a little before Yedakumari, we decided to cool our heels, literally, in one of the many streams that cross below the tracks. Then, as we picked up our tired bodies to make the final push towards our destination for the day, I spotted a scaly pattern on one of the rocks. The beautiful Malabar Pit Viper made our day, posing unmoving as we took our photographs.

I was surprised to see the station sign saying Yedakumari and not Edukumeri. I tried to translate it into English, and what I got amused me plenty: Yeda Kumari = Mad Maiden. I wonder what it really means though. The blogs had warned us that we would not be allowed to pitch tent at the station, so we hiked on looking for a spot to camp for the night. We had spent twelve hours on our feet when we finally settled down near a stream next to our tent with jam, cheese and bread. I must admit, it wasn't the most comfortable night I've ever spent. The pebbles beneath the tent made my fidgety sleeping quite painful. Still, it was a pretty night with stars peeking through the strangler fig under which we slept.

Scarlet minivets watched as I brushed my teeth in the stream in the morning. The Malabar Whistling Thrushes sang their happy songs and bright Yellow-browed bulbuls picked the fruit from the trees above.

The linesmen on the tracks had given us a target of the 80/400 marker as the spot from which we should turn off the railway line onto the forest path that would take us to Gundiya and a bus back to Bangalore. Armed with this information, which turned out to be 300 metres off, we set off knowing that we would have plenty of time to make our destination over the remaining bridges. To our right, for this entire stretch was a magnificent view of the shola forests of the western ghats. I spent much time wondering if one of the hills was Kumaraparvatha which is said to be the toughest trek in Karnataka. I will find out some day.

With a little difficulty, we found the path down to Gundiya, marked by some helpful soul in the moss with a stick - "GUNDY ->", and down we went. A sweaty, oily, uncouth, vest-clad trekker passed us by and turned around to ask me where I'm from and was extremely disappointed to hear "Bangalore". The group he was walking with made their noisy way past us, destroying many plants along the way. A little further, he turned around and asked if I had a lighter or matches - to light a fire! And then a little further, he came back to say, "Do you have some food? We're all very hungry. We have money but didn't find any shops." What I thought of this intrusion has been censored! Anyway, this caused us to take a detour which led to us getting a few leech bites (just one for me) and a far more interesting walk through the forest down to the town.

The buses to Bangalore were packed and we exhaustedly stood the three hours to Hassan before we got seats.

Here's some information that would have made the trek a little less interesting:

1. Take the 11:15 pm bus heading to Mangalore from Bangalore and request to get off approximately 4 kilometres after Donigal. If the conductor doesn't agree to that, then Donigal/Manjarabad Fort is the place to get off (usually some time between 4:30 am and 5:30 am). It may not be possible to book tickets to Donigal, so Uppinangadi should do.

2. The trains are not a problem. And no one tries to stop you from trekking on the track.

3. Definitely carry a torch. We switched off the torches in the middle of one of the tunnels and I couldn't see my palm 2 inches from my face (and people will tell you that I practically glow in the dark!)

4. You get on the track around the 50/400 marker and Yedamukari is just past the 68km mark. The turn off to Gundiya is at the 80/100 marker just after tunnel no. 35 and just before a bridge.

And so, five years in the doing, it is done.

Of Clouds and Leeches

Agumbe.

I'm pretty glad Siddharth made it to the bus seconds before we left. So much would have been lost in translation had he missed the bus. Reminder to self - learn Kannada.

I was a little sceptical when Kasturi Akka told me over the phone, in a mixture of Kannada, Hindi and English, that all I had to do to find the house was to ask for where Kasturi stays. But Dodda Mane was exactly that easy to find. Just around the corner from the bus stand, and everyone knows Kasturi Akka.

Stepping into the house is almost like stepping through a window in time. A hundred and ten years, the house has stood; stone, supported on ornate wooden pillars, built in the traditional style of the people of the ghats. In the middle, the courtyard that once had been the place where the head of the village had dispensed his justice was being pounded by the monsoon. We were directed to a large room upstairs with windows that seemed to glow with the emerald green of the rainforest.

After a breakfast of Neer Dosas and too-spicy chutney, we headed off to Jogigundi: "find electric pole 67 and turn right off the road and follow the path. And watch for the leeches." The road wound through the greenest green accompanied by butterflies fluttering whimsically from flower to flower. The rain stopped and started, drizzling sometimes, pouring sometimes. The birds took every pause in the rain to break into song, teasing us by flitting about in the leaves, just out of sight. Frogs, toads and grasshoppers leapt joyfully by the side of the road. The unfortunate ones had been run over by the overnight traffic. We saw a malabar pit viper, a checkered keelback, two caecilians and hundreds of frogs dead on the road.

A little way down the road, Nisha snorted disgustedly at what looked like fruit packing on the side of the road. As she bent over to pick up the litter, her expression changed to wonder. It was the most amazing mushroom any of us had ever seen; a peach-pink lantern on the forest floor. As we walked along we caught little glimpses into what must exist deep within the rainforest; the beautiful purple plant parasite, the yellow succulent flower, the wood-ear mushrooms, the orchids in the trees.

And then we were at electric pole no. 67. The path to the right was there, leading invitingly into the forest. My research before the trip had taught me that insect repellents do keep leeches away, so we smeared some on our feet and stepped in. The first thing to greet us was a bicolored frog, confident in its camouflage sitting on the forest floor. And then there were leeches everywhere. Stopping only to pull the leeches off our ankles we were very quickly at the waterfall. The water falls through large boulders on the side of a wall of rock into a pool from where it continues down to where I know not. We spent an hour exploring the rocks around the waterfall and a little way downstream. On the way back, Rohan and I saw a Malabar Trogon, one of the birds on our wish-list. There were so many birds in that one place that we decided to come back there if we could; electric pole 42.

We slept through the afternoon and then went to the edge of the Someshwar Ghat to watch the sunset. There wasn't a sunset in the way of a traditional sunset, but the view was breathtaking . The clouds looked like they were pouring down the ghats on our right into the valley below. Little clouds between the trees on the forest floor looked like puffs of smoke. And this green and white carpet spread out before us as far as we could see. A bright red crab sat on the rock with us as we watched the light fade behind the clouds.

Undeterred by the lack of a sun in the sunset, we set out early the next morning to see the sunrise. The Jain temple on top of the hill had been built of stones quarried from the rock it stood on. One of the pools that had formed was full of huge bull frogs croaking their hearts out. The clouds swirled around us and the rain beat down heavily. The sun must have risen behind all that. There's an indescribable peace standing on top of that hill in the pouring rain

Nisha and Siddharth went to Sringeri to see the temples there while Rohan and I decided to go back to the electric poles to see if we could spot some birds. And spot some, we did! Racket-tailed drongos, scarlet minivets, pompadour green pigeons, white-bellied treepies, black bulbuls, black headed bulbuls, dark-fronted babblers, malabar parakeets, malabar gray hornbills, hill mynahs were the highlights. There were so many others which we didn't identify because we couldn't keep up with them. I finally saw the malabar whistling thrush which has been teasing me with it's schoolboy whistle through so many forest hikes. And we saw the malabar trogon again! On the way back, we had to take shelter from the rain in a cowshed. The owner of the place saw us standing under the eaves and invited us in. They were a most jolly family, thoroughly amused at our inability to understand a word they said (learn Kannada). On the way back, we were startled by a barking deer and our third malabar giant squirrel. My good deed of the day was to pick up a pill millipede off the road and put it back in the leaf litter.

Lunch was special - mango curry, bamboo shoot curry and a snack made of acacia leaves wrapped around something I can't remember. Rohan's appetite wasn't tickled.

Onaki Abbe was our final destination. The path was a carpet of leeches. We moved swiftly through the forest till the path disappeared in the undergrowth. It was getting dark when we finally turned around. By then, we had surrendered to the leeches and were letting them have their way with us. Back on the road, a truck driver saw the blood on my feet and stopped to tell me to put salt. 'Uppu Illa' I told him and asked for a ride into the village, and so we rode atop a sand truck to the nearest restaurant where I asked for salt and watched as the bloated leeches dropped off my feet. We walked barefoot back to Dodda Mane, stood outside and washed the blood off our feet. Tissue paper served to stop the bleeding. There were so many leeches in Nisha's shoes that she decided to leave them behind.

We said goodbye to Kasturi Akka and headed to the bus stand, just in time to catch the bus back to Bangalore. I broke out in rashes because of my allergy to leech-bites, making me look rather scary, but that subsided halfway back to Bangalore. And I found a last couple of leeches; one on my ankle and one on my arm.

The infection from the leech-bites has gone away now after a heavy dose of antibiotics and the wounds have almost healed. It was quite an adventure, and methinks it's time to plan a trip back there. I still have to visit Onaki Abbe and Barkhana.