Week 4 - Hiking in Madikeri, Mysore and a dose of the abbdabbs

Hello again,

First off, apologies to those who received the first two instalments of this little series twice, I think I have the problem sorted out now (a short circuit somewhere in the cerebellum) so this should be a one shot deal (fingers crossed!)

So, when we last left you, we were waiting to go "trekking" in the hills around Madikeri, in the Kodagu (or Coorg) region of Karnataka. I say "trekking" because we aren't exactly talking about the Himalayas here, more like a stroll in the country side but with leeches and no pubs, which I think allows me to invoke the T word, but only in inverted commas, so you don't get the impression that we were planning on expending excessive energy. Our guide was a chap by the name of Vijay Kumar who, true to the stereotype of the trekking guide (either in or out of inverted commas) was dressed like he was off to work, in a shirt, trousers and runners, rather than in anything vaguely resembling hiking gear (except possibly the runners, but sandals or barefoot might have been a little much to expect.) This, except for a rather smart brand name (Lowe, I think) daypack, which I found myself coveting during the trek, as my courier bag was doing its level best to rip my shoulder off. Also true to the guide stereotype, he didn't appear to break a sweat once, whilst we were sweating our sacks off.

On our first day, we bussed out to a trailhead and then struck off up through the coffee and pepper plantations and into the forest. I don't know why it's always called a trailhead, when it's invariably at the bottom, but there you go. It was about 1 month after the End of the Rainy Season (always a grey area in the tropics) so parts of the trial were still a little damp, which brought to mind a certain wander that Shaun and I took through a rubber plantation in Northern Malaysia some 8 years ago and returned to the coffee shop to find that our legs (particularly Shaun's) had considerably less blood in them than when we had started off, due to the profusion of little black sacks on our ankles, which seemed intent on drinking till they burst. Now, I have never considered myself particularly squeamish, but I remember, with some clarity, my reaction to finding about a dozen short black shoelace type things clinging to my beardy traveller sandals, trying desperately to gain a purchase on the soles of my feet. Even though none of them actually managed to attach themselves (I imagine the smell kept them off) my reaction was "WHAT THE &^%$"& ARE THOSE, THAT'S DISCUSTING ... OH CHRIST, GET THEM OFF ME, AHHHH!!!!!" or something like that. Shaun had fared considerably worse, I can only think because he was wearing trainers, which the little bastards had managed to climb inside and attach themselves to the soft flesh of his lower leg (not that I ever felt them, just conjecture, you understand.) With this in mind, I viewed walking through these temporary streambeds with a sense of growing trepidation, not much aided by Andrea, who would intermittently call from behind me that she was pretty sure that she had just seen one clinging to the bottom of a leaf and casting around for lunch. On clearing the forest, we had a shoes off leech check, to find that Andrea and Vijay had completely escaped the blood loss, whilst I had gained biomass to the tune of four of the little sods, one of which was only evidenced by the blood stain it had left on my sock when it had over gorged and been burst against the inside of my shoe. It's overreaction, I know, but, even though Vijay assured me that leeches don't carry disease, etc, I still must consign these creatures to the same pigeon hole as mosquitoes in the Great Scheme of Things, that is, good only as food for other animals, who could find another diet anyway, and so extermination of the entire genus would have to be the solution, should I ever take my rightful place as Ruler of Everything. In fact, the only reason that I started to appreciate Geckos was the discovery that they eat mossies, although I will admit to having grown to admire the little fellas for their own sake.

So, into the clear and we were striking for the summit through shortish grass, which Vijay absolutely assured me contained no leeches, whatsoever. There were, however, loads of medium sized holes in the slope, which Vijay said were from wild pigs burrowing for whatever wild pigs burrow for, which tested our ankle strength. From the top the view was quite nice, but I wasn't really getting the "just climbed Everest" feeling. Vijay confirmed that that was because we had only climbed to about 1200m,which reminded us both of how lardy we had become over the summer's beer drinking and lazing around session. We had hoped to climb down the other side, along a ridgeline and through another forest, but Vijay said that we couldn't, as he had been unable to confirm the proximity of the larger species of wildlife present in the region. "What sort of wildlife, Vijay?" we asked innocently, not wanting to disturb the little (and probably endangered) cherubs of the local forests. "Oh, Elephants and tigers and such" was the reply. Oh... guess we go down the way we came, then. Down the hill and back to the bus stop, we all managed a leech free descent and then we were off to a local village to stay the night in a temple.

You know, it's amazing how prices change when you get away from the tourist path. I know that demand will inevitably send prices up, but I was quite shocked. Our room in the temple (although "cell" would be more accurate) was a princely 20 Rupees (about 30 New Pence, which is about 1/20th of what we usually pay) although it must be said that, beyond "shared toilet" this was a "no toilet" establishment, which left us to prevail on the local public loo (which wasn't exactly going to win any prizes in the Great Toilets of the World Awards) for which we were charged 2 Rupees a go and I go to the loo a LOT. Dinner for three, not including the beers that they very kindly shot out to buy for us, was about 30 Rupees (50 pence) which is about the least you could expect to pay each in any bearded destination or city and was excellent (if a little suffused with pulses and lentils and the like.) On returning to the room, Andrea found that her sleeping bag had got damp because her water bottle had leaked. I offered her mine (cause I'm nice like that) and she replied, "I don't want a sleeping bag, I want a whirlpool bath and roll in breakfast ... I admit it, I'm a luxury girl!" Oops, life just got more expensive ...

The following day we headed to the source of the Cauvery river, which runs around 700 Km from, well, wherever we were, to Madras in the East and provides a good portion of the drinking water to cities in between. Good thing, then, that the local sadus all come to the source to wash their bits (nice...) in hope of purification. From here, Vijay took us down a trail (down, YES...) past a derelict wind power project, about which Vijay seemed particularly bitter. It seems that, around 10 years ago, the central government budgeted about 1 million US$ to import and set up 5 wind power mills in a saddle near the Cauvery source, to provide cheap (and sustainable) power to the surrounding villages. The units were purchased and constructed, transformers and controls were installed and some Belgian bloke came over to commission them. Here things get a bit vague, it seems that some form of local corporation was set up to administer the power generated, which put the local power authority's nose RIGHT out of joint. Nefariousness ensued, the Belgian chap was threatened, locals were (allegedly) paid to sabotage the works and the power lines were never connected to the transformer. 10 years on, these generators stand idle (and rotting) as testament to the incorruptibility of a democracy with a free press. Vijay said to me that he thought that, should they pull their fingers out in the next couple of years, the project could be saved. I didn't need to be an expert to tell him that that point has already passed and the rusted sections of wind vane hanging off all over the place won't be fixed by a change in policy (not to mention the state of the innards of the generators, which seem to have become a wildlife sanctuary in their own right.) Vijay was pissed and I was left wondering at such an apparently progressive project falling prey to the same old problems.

We finished our trek and headed back to Madikeri, wishing we had booked for 4 or 5 days, instead of just 2. It's true to say that this is NOT the Himalayas; God, Wales can be more dramatic. But it is beautiful nevertheless and hiking in the area doesn't need to take on the macho verticality that you tend to find in "trekking centres." We'll save that for Nepal. The following morning, leaning over the toilet in the hotel room hoying my breakfast up, I was quite glad that we had only booked 2 days instead of 4 or (God forbid) 5. Andrea moved into full on Looking After Sick Husband Mode and organised a private car to take us to Mysore, where there are doctors and that, should my sickness have proved to be more than just a Morning Tum, which it didn't. I have to admit that, when you're ill, throwing money at the problem often eases the pain (shopping on a hangover, for example) and there's no way I could have dealt with having my arse bounced off in the back of a local bus that day and the car was (although a little expensive) LOVELY.

Mysore, I will save for another day, as we've got some shopping to do and Andrea's looking tired of reading the train timetable and planning our next move, whilst I futz around talking to you lot

Till then, cheers

James