After suffering through an Ayurvedic treatment that not only required me to adhere to a limited diet but also to restrict my exercise to gentle walking for several weeks, I was ready to get out and stretch my legs. The mountain country of the Western Ghats a few hours southeast was calling me, so as soon as I was released from my doctor’s care, I hopped a train south to make my way toward the hill station of Wayanad.
To take me from the coastal train station in Calicut (also known but never called by its new non-Imperialist name Kozhikode) to the interior, I had hired a private car for about $30. The mountain pass that led to Wayanad had nine notorious hairpin turns that I had been warned about with no little bit of anxiety from my previous home stay host, and I was glad that I had arranged for a car once I saw the steep windy road that traversed the mountain range. I dared not look down the entire time, but instead rehearsed my mantra, “The driver is a professional, he knows what he’s doing,” over and over. That same mantra came in handy when I departed the area by way of the local bus back to Calicut instead of a private car. I had wanted to save some money, and the bus back to the train station was less than $2, but I spent the entire time questioning if my life was not worth more than $28 as I held onto the metal bar on top of the seat in front of me with whitened knuckles while the driver split lanes on blind curves all the way down the mountain. No one else on the bus seemed to be affected, but I frequently had to remind myself to breathe.
Despite the difficult passage, I’d do it all over again for a chance to glimpse an Asiatic elephant in the wild or to see the mists pooled like lakes in the valleys of the mountain ranges burn off as I ascended one of the most famous peaks in the region, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I had gone for trekking, mainly, which is a relatively expensive solo activity, especially as I was not interested in squandering precious hours of my visit sitting on long bus rides. Also there is the issue of being a lone female in a strange, non-urban area, so I had to hire guides and drivers to accompany me on my adventures. While Wayanad seemed like a big splurge at the time, my costs for activities averaged around $40 a day, and I saw some beautiful sights I will not soon forget.
What I did:
Sunday
Through my home stay host, I had arranged for a tuk-tuk driver to pick me up late morning, and for a mere 700 rs ($10.50) he drove me around for the rest of the day, primarily to see the famous pre-historic carvings at the Eddakal Caves. Once there, the admission cost was negligible, but there was a steep hike of about 1 km and then lots of stairs to the entrance to the caves. I saw more than one grandma being pushed up by helpful relatives on the way, but the climb was not that bad and the exquisitely preserved carvings (circa 6000 BC) were a fine reward. The views from the top were also spectacular and made great selfie opportunities, although no photography of the carvings inside the cave was allowed.
On the way to the caves, the driver made a brief stop at the unusual natural formation called Phantom Rock, which is an easy half kilometer walk up a hill. At the top there are lovely views of the two valleys on either side of the ridge as well as of the rock itself.
The locals are very proud of their impressive new Krishnagiri Stadium, which is the highest altitude stadium devoted solely to cricket, and my driver was keen to show it to me on the way home. It a beautiful if not somewhat incongruously located place to watch sports, and it draws teams and fans from all over Kerala. If you are in the neighborhood, it is worth a quick drive up to see the players practicing with the stunning mountain peaks framing the lush green fields. Almost makes me wish I understood cricket.
Monday
My driver arrived around 10 am for a full day that would start with a visit to Soochipara Falls in the morning and then a long drive to Mulanga Wildlife Santuary for the afternoon Jeep safari. We had a lot of ground to cover, so he told me not to take too much time hiking into the falls. Luckily, the path to Soochipara is not nearly as strenuous or as crowded as the one to Eddakal Caves, so it was easy to make it to the pools at the foot of the falls in about 10 minutes. There was a slippery climb into the pools but the water was clean and cold, and luckily my driver had prepared for me to return soaked after jumping in with all of my clothes on (this ain’t California, folks), which is almost required for all except for the fussiest visitors.
After my brief dip in the “healing waters” of the falls, we had enough time to stop by the Ananthanatha Swamy Jain Temple on the way to the wildlife sanctuary. The stone carvings surrounding the 13th century temple are in excellent condition, and although visitors are not allowed into the inner sanctum of the temple, I was able to walk around the raised platform surrounding the building to get a clear view inside. The entire structure is made of granite, and it’s considered one of the most important Jain temples in Kerala.
My driver had told me not to take too much time at the temple as we were aiming to arrive at Mulanga Wildlife Sanctuary by 2:30 pm, which was half an hour before the safari tickets went on sale. There are only two opportunities per day to go on Jeep safari, and, as it is the only way tourists are allowed to access the sanctuary, the tickets usually sell out right away.
After we arrived, my driver sent me to the ticket office where there were about twenty people already waiting to queue up. Once the ticket window opened, there was a lot of jostling and some fights over line cutting, but I politely held my ground until I reached the window. Being solo, I was put with a two-Jeep group composed of a couple of families traveling together, and they didn’t seem too happy about having me along, but I just smiled a lot and acted oblivious to their obvious disgust as I trespassed on their family affair.
One of the gentlemen in the group spoke English pretty well, and he asked me the usual question of where my husband was. “I’m alone,” I responded, whereupon the women in the group started to giggle and talk among themselves in Malayalam, and while I couldn’t understand what they were saying, I got the gist. I started to make up stories in my head about what I was going to say the next time the dreaded, “Where is your husband?” question popped up, but I didn’t have too much time to ruminate on my answer because we saw our first elephant, six-foot tusks and all, as we rounded the corner.
Our guide slowed the Jeep to take a closer look, and suddenly the beautiful beast decided he’d had enough of our staring and, more quickly than you would ever think, started to charge straight toward us. Our driver immediately threw the Jeep into gear to speed us away, but for a thrilling moment it looked like the elephant was going straight for the ladies in the back of the vehicle. After that, there was no more complaining from them about how there “weren’t enough animals,” and the adrenaline rush I felt lasted until well after the tour was over.
By the time the ride was over, we had seen three elephants, but I heard that we were lucky. There were also some spotted deer and a few jungle bees nests, but the likelihood of seeing a tiger or some other big game animal was almost nil, which was probably for the best. Our guide told us that the best time to go was January through June after the monsoon was long past and the water deep within the jungle had become scarce enough to drive the animals toward watering holes close to the road the Jeeps followed.
Tuesday
The highest peak within a reasonable distance of Kalpetta is Chembra Peak, and it was second on my list of places to go after Mulanga despite the hefty price tag of almost $50 for a half day tour. I could have save $15 by not hiring a guide, but I wanted to be on the safe side while climbing in unknown territory.
There are only 20 groups let in per day, and each group can number no more than 10 people, so it never gets too crowded, but weekdays are still best for escaping the crowds. The park opened at 7 am, so we got there shortly afterward to beat the crowds as well as the climbing sun and temperatures. The entrance fee is 1500 rs ($23) per group for foreigners, so I had to pay the entire fee because I saw no other obviously non-Indian tourists at the gate when I approached, and my annoying guide said we should not wait, although I suspected he was hurrying me so he could try to talk me into booking an afternoon tour with him.
In hindsight, I should have ditched him at the gate. The walk up was strenuous but only a few kilometers each way, and there were park employees posted at regular intervals to make sure visitors kept to the well marked stone paths as well as groups of outdoorsy tourist couples and families, primarily from Europe, the U.S., and Bangalore.
The views on the way up were so lovely that I must have taken fifty photos as the early morning mists burned off to reveal miles of tea plantations in the valleys. There were flying squirrels in the trees, beautiful birds, and butterflies almost in swarms. If it weren’t for the jabbering of my guide, Ramesh,who was as short on knowledge of the flora and fauna as he was long on annoying small talk, the gentle breeze blowing through the tree tops would have been the only sound on the climb up.
“Where is your husband?” he asked, finally getting to my favorite question after “How old are you?” and “How much money do you make in your job?”
“He’s dead,” I responded, hearkening back to the imaginary life I’d created for myself during the socially awkward ride through Muthanga.
“No, no,” he protested, “when this happened?”
“A long time ago, don’t worry about it,” I said, beginning to feel sorry I had lied because now I had to extend the story to respond to his further prying.
“Was it when you were pregnant?” he asked quietly, his voice quavering and his eyes moist.
“No, Ramesh, can we please talk about something else now?” I finally snapped at him, vowing to stick with what amounts to an ugly truth for so many people in this country, at least in the less urbanized areas: I’m divorced.
We managed to get up to the peak and the famous “heart-shaped lake,” but Ramesh warned me not to go into the water because the elephants were just there a couple days before, and the muddy brown color was not due solely to recent rains. We sat on one of the flat granite rocks that formed a perfect seat for viewing the distant mountains and tea plantations, peaceful for a moment until Ramesh decided it was selfie-time. After I sent him a friend request on Facebook, it seemed he had gathered enough evidence of our meeting to head peacefully back down the mountain with me in the lead, and I had to raise my voice to tell him to stop nagging me about one thing or the other only a few more times on the way down.
For next time:
The following were recommended excursions had I stayed longer:
Kuruva Island
Banasura Dam
Karlad Lake
Pookot Lake
Lakkidi view point
Tholpetty Wildlife Sanctuary
Tip: make the DTPC (District Tourism Promotion Council) your first stop once in Kalpetta. They can give you updated information on tourist places as well as contact information for local guides and tour companies.
Accommodation/Food
Nothing much to recommend here as I was trying to do this pricey area on the cheap. After my short home stay in Kalpetta, I moved up to a decent hotel about 4 km southwest of Kalpetta called Soorya Castle, which had an okay restaurant with hygienically prepared food. The best part was that it was away from the mosques and churches in town, so there was no 5 am wake-up call to prayer or 5:30 am ringing of church bells.
There are tons of restaurants and hotels around Kalpetta for budget travelers, but don’t expect much for your money. The only way to get good food and nice digs is to spend accordingly, and there are plenty of options for luxury resorts with gourmet restaurants out of town, but you will pay handsomely and will also have to spend more on transportation.
