Monday, July 18, 2016

She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain




A getaway was long overdue. Google and tripadvisor were raped for budget-friendly ideas and visions of serenity ensued; sipping tea on a hilltop and enjoying  much-needed rest over a good book.  This trip would feature peace, tranquillity and endless sleep, lulled by the soft winds of the emerald hills, waited on by some culinary genius of an Appu at a plush boutique hideaway.
“I’m going on a holiday to the hills, who wants to join me?” said the Whatsapp message to friends, to which immediate positive replies were received. “Yes, let’s! Shall we hike on Knuckles?”
Wait, what? Hike on Knuckles? As in, walk one’s toes off in leech-infested mud and grime and weather the monsoon madness? Who is their right minds would want to do something so vile when they could be toastily nesting in a cloud of quilts next to a fireplace instead? There was no way in hell that this holiday would be ruined by a hike.
“Ok”.
Sometimes, we holiday planners are wimps when it comes to being decisive. If hiking was the only way to have company, then it would have to happen. Perhaps after about 15 minutes of a brisk walk amongst the tea bushes we could go back to basking in the dream holiday. And so bags were packed, leech socks procured (you wouldn’t believe how Godsent these are) and we were off, singing ‘the hills are aliiiiive’ in the car, all the way to a budget bungalow at the foot of the Knuckles range (the boutique hotel prices, it turned out, had to remain filed under ‘dream’).
“I have a something special planned” announced the trip’s adventurous itinerary planner, along the way. How apt a description for the detour she had in store, at the end of a ride deep into no man’s land. It began with a suspended bridge over Bambarakiri ella that seemed to have been taken straight out of a movie, followed by being literally ‘blown away’ atop the breathtaking Mini World’s End, and ended with perhaps the most phenomenal waterfall experience at the magical Sera Ella. If creeping behind the fall itself and being mesmerized by the cascading sheet of water wasn’t treat enough, swimming in the pristine waters below it just took the day to Fantasy Island levels. Perhaps the hike to come would not be as bad as assumed, if this was the kind of delight on offer. Trepidation turned to happy hope.
The next day, we set off in the wee hours for the rocky range, picking our guide up on the way- a tiny sprite of a man named Raja who looked like he couldn’t say boo to a goose and carried nothing but a worryingly evil-looking knife, as opposed to the rest of the group all kitted out like they were auditioning for Survivor. In no time at all, the charm of the previous day’s activities vanished. A hike on the Knuckles range is anything but a walk in the park, especially if one is a middle-aged cat lady who has never seen the inside of a gym. After 7 hours of climbing up slippery rocks at the pace of a snail’s grandmother, screaming filth at the mobs of leeches that appeared out of nowhere with every step, 2 and a half hours of being left behind in the heart of the forest next to leopard kill while the rest climbed on to the peak (because yours truly busted her knee) and earning tree-frog like Raja’s disdain, the hike was complete and legs wobbling like jellyfish. But dare I say the achievement felt glorious, and the views along the way spectacular. A truly spiritual encounter, in more ways than one.
The holiday had turned into something very different to what was originally anticipated, but a memorable one nonetheless. However next time, tea and quilts it is, without leeches.

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