wanderlust: October 2008

"D'you think we'll make it?", Chandru queried. "Yeah, I think we will". That was more a self-assuring nod on my part. I had begun to envision the eight of us scrambling for seats in different compartments. Every passing minute served to escalate my thoughts of us boarding the train and the versions seemed to get more exciting, perhaps desperate is the word. "The cab's here", announced Bragy and I was lifted from my reverie. Urging Prithvi to hurry up, I walked to the cab to find that barring Sankar and Prithvi the rest were already there. Sankar, apparently had forgotten his out-station pass. That reminded me, did I .... yes ... in my right pocket. Eventually he came and as we were leaving, I kept hoping I hadn't left anything rudimentary behind. I'm told it's a universal norm to feel that way but in my case there is often a sense of heightened paranoia. Before we knew it, the Tata Sumo had reached Vasco-da-Gama railway station. As it often turns out, we had time. Having located an empty bay in an unreserved compartment, we had to consider another pressing need : breakfast.

Inspite of its status as a terminus on the South Western Railway (one of the 16 railway zones in India) connecting the rest of India to Goa, Vasco as it is referred to, falls short in terms of the facilities offered. Madgaon, part of the privatized Konkan Railway division and the more recent of the two major railway stations in Goa (Panaji, the capital city does not have a railway station) is better equipped to serve travellers. So this meant, we had to come out and try our luck at Hotel Pavithra at 7.30 AM. After a few anxious moments, we were given the food packets in a rather drab carton box. We were just in time, for our train, the 2848 Amaravathi Express bound for Howrah left Vasco within minutes. Our destination, Londa was just 3 hours away though. It was to be a scenic three-hour journey for this section of the SWR cut right through the Western Ghats and provided great views pretty much throughout the ride. The Dudhsagar Falls (literally The Sea of Milk) deserves special mention. Situated on the Mandovi river, at 10 kms from the Kulem Railway Station, it forms the highlight of the journey. Trains on this route pass 15 m from the tiered falls and has all and sundry queuing up for a view. It wasn't particularly spectacular on that day owing to this being the dry season. In monsoon however, it is transformed into one of the most powerful falls in India. Prithvi, as is his wont, chose to sleep through the ride in one of the upper berths, waking up only at the behest of others. Lugo indulged himself in taking snapshots of Papa napping.

We reached Londa in good spirits, albeit a little late. I must confess now that while I'm good at train timings, connections etc, I'm plain disinterested when it comes to road routes. It has always been that way and probably has its origins in the fact that for me, train travel was nausea-free early on. So it was with much skepticism that I spoke to a couple of autowallahs along with Bragy. The gist of the conversation was that we would be charged Rs 80 apiece for two auto-rickshaws to the bus station at Ramnagaram, a small town near Londa. This place had frequent buses to Dandeli. After a 5 km jaunt through battered roads (a portent of things to come, remember we were in Karnataka), we reached Ramnagaram. During the wait, we stocked ourselves with Polo mints. We needn't have worried about fresh air for the journey itself reinforced our positive feeling about the place we were visiting. Long winding roads lined with trees, minimal traffic and cloudy weather characterized the ride. The loud music playing yesteryear Kannada songs was the only detractor from an otherwise sublime experience. Eventually I dozed off only to be woken up by Sankar saying that our stop had arrived.

Dandeli town, like all other towns of its size and economic drive seemed to have its own pace. Located in the Uttara Kannada district of Karnataka, it wasn't what one would call a mountainous place with an average elevation of around 500 m. Yet, the presence of the River Kali has ensured that its importance has never waned over the centuries. A religious centre in early times, it was now gaining its reputation as a tourist hotspot. Contemplating the options, I made a phone call (cellular phones had not lost connectivity yet) to our contact, Mr Imam and we found ourselves eating at Hotel Santosh, a simple looking restaurant. The food itself only passed muster for me but some of the others found it good. Soon, Imam showed up. We had done the customary unearthing of basic facts from the web prior to the trip but this had only given me a general idea of the places we could visit in Dandeli. So after a brief session of talking and bargaining, it was arranged for us to check into our rooms and visit Syntheri Rock. After a seemingly long trip through uninhabited tracts, we reached our lodge. The premises enthralled me. That I suppose should do it for it would be pointless to try and describe the setting. I couldn't help thinking that this place would be something at night. Needless to say, we got carried away with the photo sessions in and around the lodge. It was only when a downpour threatened did we come to our senses and left for Syntheri Rock. This ride was perhaps the most unique of the trip. The foliage seemed to metamorphose with the pouring rain and made it all the more eye-catching. We were constantly on the lookout for wildlife of any sort; just a glimpse of a deer scurrying for cover would have been satisfying but then nature has its own whims and fancies.

In a while, the clouds ceased to pour and we reached Syntheri Rock. Apart from being a picturesque setting for a waterfall, one could tell the place had significance for geologists. There were displays of rock samples along the way down to the waterfall. Papa and Prithvi were busy with their Nokias that possessed 2 MegaPixel cameras. The camaraderie between Sankar and Pottu was a positive influence on the group. After exploring whatever the place had on offer for us, we decided to return. The return journey was comparatively uneventful and we reached our lodge before dark. Having instructed the caretaker of the lodge to prepare dinner for eight, we freshened up in our rooms. The torrential rain had severed connections with Dandeli town and there was no electricity. With nothing else to do, it was only a matter of time before someone suggested cards. During the various rounds of Donkey and Blackjack, we were doing everything we could to unsettle the peace of the surroundings by roaring every time someone lost. Pottu seemed to have the rub of the green going for him while I was just scraping through in each round.

At dinner, the hospitality of the caretaker overwhelmed us. This was possibly the quietest meal I had consumed in a long time. By now, the moon shone its presence on the land and what was previously pitch-dark was now beautiful to behold. Perhaps the thing that prevented total relaxation was the voice at the back of our minds that kept telling us that we had not made plans for the next day. To top it all, we couldn’t contact Imam because there was no connectivity and the land-lines were not functional. Just as we were on the verge of resignation, the caretaker informed us that the land-line was working. It was an Insert-Coin-Dial-Speak device and this was our last chance. All this was in pursuit of the primal reason we had come to Dandeli – White Water Rafting. Imam told us that by eight the next morning, he would tell us about the availability of a slot in the afternoon. This left us pondering on the morning schedule. The caretaker came to our rescue. He arranged for a jeep to take us to Dandeli Wildlife Sanctuary. Having thanked him profusely, we then called it a day. The eight of us were put up in thatched huts. I and Bragy volunteered to sleep on mattresses on the floor. When you have eight engineering lads with a propensity to sleep like a log when there is no agenda in the morning, it is important to have as many alarms as possible on different devices. Voicing this thought out, I then had three. The first one woke me up. It’s probably interesting to note that while I was getting ready, I did not hear a single alarm going off. The other four in my room had banked on Chandru who was in the next room to wake them up.

After a refreshing cup of tea, we boarded the jeep. We were asked to book tickets at the Kulgi Nature Camp. Photos of animal sightings were on prominent display in the booking room. The last time a tiger had been sighted was about three months back. It was two weeks for a panther and so on. The chances of spotting one of these elusive beasts were remote. At the very least there would be no anti-climax. So we set off into the wild with little hope and it’s better to sum up the entire journey by saying we saw a trio of deer, a pair of wild boars, elephant ‘tracks’, peacocks and a host of other birds. At one point we were asked to get down and walk. This apparently was the beginning of the long trek to Kavvala Caves. Autumn had wreaked havoc on the trees and leaves lay scattered along the paths. Common Langurs could be seen frolicking on trees at different spots. There was a group of middle-aged men who were doing their best to scare the only animals that did come into our auditory spans. Not to mention, our guide. At one point he actually pointed at a dark-plumaged bird and said “Crow”. That did it for us.

After a while, a valley came into view and the descent became more pronounced. And there she was, Kali. Despite the presence of a paper industry in Dandeli, the river seemed to possess a pristine beauty and was, to borrow a clichéd phrase, a window to the past. Soon we got to the 350-step segment we had been told about by the caretaker. It was steep in parts but easy on the whole because it was primarily descent. This then brought us to the temple for that is what we thought of it then having left the guide behind. It was basically a rock face with a dent huge enough to house a temple. I then looked around for a continuation of our path and found one which didn’t seem to go very far. So where were the caves? What kind of caves were they? How had our ancestors chanced upon such a place? Did sadhus meditate here? Juggling with definites and rhetorics, I contented myself to merely taking in the view and enjoying the quiet. Not for long. A distraction reminded of itself in the form of a camera. Not that there was actually a camera. We had left the 8 MegaPixel Olympus for there had been no time to charge the previous night. The power was never restored. We had to make do with the 2 MegaPixel cameras on the two Nokias – mind you, not far behind in terms of picture quality as I was to find out later. The urge to make an everlasting souvenir in the form of a photo is irresistible. To the modern tourist, visiting places goes in conjunction with taking photographs to the point that, the former is considered a pointless exercise without the latter. Recall the trips without cameras and something that instantly comes to mind is the refrain – ‘Wish we’d brought a camera’. The presence of a camera can help enliven moments of waiting, capture people in gimmicks, and I guess it works wonders when there are kids around. Keeping in mind the obvious benefits of having a camera around, it’s important not to let the camera dominate the tour, to be more precise, not to let taking snapshots become the objective of the tour. The touring experience comes foremost.

We were at the temple when our guide arrived with the group of elderly men, who were panting by now, from seemingly nowhere. He beckoned to us, saying we were next and ushered us to a 3-foot high entrance. There seemed to be no light coming from within. Taking a deep breath, we crouched and crawled our way in. My initial thoughts were that after a crawl for 10 metres or so we would approach a clearing and a structure more like a cavern would present itself. This was probably due to my visit to the colossal Borra Caves near Arakku Valley in eastern Andhra Pradesh not a year back. I was mistaken and how! Our guide calmly announced that this was going to be a 5-kilometre crawl. 5 kilometres! That’s army jawans stuff! No way it could be that long. As is the habit of the mind, one half searches for facts and occurrences supporting that assumption. Sure enough, I was reminded of the remarkably short time the group of middle-aged men had taken to come out. But there is always the other half of the mind that unearths another possibility totally unconnected with this one, but so as to render logic useless. What if the cave collapsed? Only the ends getting sealed would suffice. It turned out I wasn’t alone in thinking along such lines. Bragy later confessed to me that he had thought of exactly the same thing. Anyway, we were crawling along.

Due to the absolute lack of light, our guide would ask us to stay put, move a few paces ahead and then shine his torch for us to move forward. This went on for a while until our guide stopped and pointed at a large object. It was a Shivalinga with idols of his escort, Parvati and the siblings – Ganesh and Karthikeya. That answered my thoughts about sadhus meditating here. He also pointed at a place where water was dripping and said that another linga was forming there. The signs themselves were unmistakable. We crawled along until we came at a fork in the cave. Here, the guide completely stumped us by saying that while one route leads outside, the other leads to Gokarna. I knew Gokarna was a famous religious centre south of Karwar in Karnataka and about a 110 kilometres from Dandeli. It was also famous for its white sand beaches and resorts. The possibility that the ancients might have connected two such religious towns with geographical proximity did not strike me as being a fallacy. After all, it was geologically possible with the Western Ghats jutting right across and we could not really hope to understand the accomplishments of men in a time far removed from ours. It was thus that my initial feeling of anathema had begun to leave me and I was struck with a sense of awe. What left everyone skeptical was the guide telling us at another fork that one way led to Kasi (Varanasi). This was harder to digest yet I tried maintaining an open mind as did some of the others. Soon, we caught a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel.

I came out all sweaty and paradoxically, refreshed. Before we could catch our breath though, our guide was to drop his last bombshell. The way back was the way we came. I had somewhat erroneously assumed that it would be a path that would take us further down and …. Well, that wasn’t to be. After a brief session of exclamations and intense debates as to the validity of the Gokarna-Kasi statements, we started. So this was the real trek. I can still recollect the 350 steps section. All of us paused from time to time to gather breath and in consideration for pleading thighs. We did manage to reach the top and sat there contemplating the journey ahead. It would be nothing like the steps at the very least. And indeed, apart from the physically satisfying jaunt, the only highlights were me and Lugo’s chancing upon a shorter but steeper path ahead and a phone call from Imam saying that we were booked for white-water rafting at two in the afternoon. Yippee. So we would be able to leave that night for college. The euphoric feeling filled my mind until we reached the lodge. The caretaker had prepared breakfast for us. Having wolfed it down, I went down to the fields with the Prithvi and Papa. At the distance, we could hear frenzied screaming by young men and it dawned on me that this was the day of Holi. They were probably doing their ritual with cows. We strolled around for a while and then returned to freshen up for the afternoon.

After our lunch, Imam sent a car to pick us up. We were then taken to a place called the Kali Adventure Camp. This was the rendezvous for rafters. A call to Imam told us that we had to get ready by 3.00 PM. I had to borrow a pair of floaters – in my case, a rather ditzy pair of blue footwear. We were all geared up in a matter of minutes and were taken to the rafting site in another vehicle. This was it – the primal reason we had come to Dandeli for. Rafting virgins, our beating hearts contrasted with the serene waters of the Kali. The expectancy and thrill of rafting had gotten to the crowd numbering 50 plus. Buoyancy was a double entendre one couldn’t possibly jettison. We were asked to choose our equipment – the paddles, life-jackets and the helmets. Life-jackets came in different sizes and I chose an XL. An appropriately tight-fitting helmet, a relatively new looking paddle and that was it.

Our raft guide came along presently and we made our way to the river bank. I and Bragy took the vanguard positions of the boat. I made a bit of a splash as I was sitting. Papa and Sankar were behind us and behind them were Chandru and Pottu. Lugo and Prithvi were at the rear end of the boat and the two raft guides were the rearguards. We drifted off and forced a slight cheer in lieu of the act. It was now time for instructions. The gist of it was that we could be thrown off the rubber dinghy but there were guidelines to avoid that and guidelines in case of that too. So with the rigmarole of ‘forwards’ and ‘backwards’ instructions by our raft guide, we set off. The weather was of the kind you dream of all your life if you happen to be born in the tropics. Soon, we approached the first rapids section. Rapids were to be countered by abandoning seated postures and ducking down. The first one passed like a blur and before we knew it, the boat got stuck amidst floating plants. The ignominy of it was that ours was the only boat to do so. A goof-up to begin with, I thought. With the help of another boat we got free.

Soon, we were stroking merrily away and the next few kilometres were absolute heaven. It’s when you realize that all those fears had been unfounded and all it takes is common sense and a little bit of obedience to stay aboard. As time progressed, I thought we were doing a lot better than many other groups probably because all of us knew each other on our dinghy. You could tell there were two, sometimes even three groups in other rafts. Presently, we got around to splashing water on each other and when the occasion demanded, on other boats. The water itself surpassed all my expectations. The purity and freshness were getting addictive, so much so that I decided to stop splashing water after a while. It was probably better to get splashed upon. After a while, we saw a charred tree and the guide told us that it had been struck by lightning. That made for a strange sight – almost like an anomaly amidst picture-perfect conditions. Very few rapids followed thereafter and after a while, we got a tad disappointed at their frequency. Our 16 kilometre stretch was drawing to an end and a profound sense of disappointment set in. That’s it? That can’t be the promised 16 kilometres, right? It was. Yet, with a deep sense of gratitude at having had an experience worth savouring, we paddled towards the shore. Some of the guys had last minute ideas like a short floating session with the life-jackets on. This was quickly ruled out by the guide saying that the undercurrents were too strong. Coming out of the water dripping wet, all I could think of was how well things had fallen into place. This was a trip made with very little prior planning to speak of. It was more an exercise in the sort of hope the young find easy to invest in. The inevitability of some sort of availability, that there’s a place for everyone on the planet. From the moment we had landed in Dandeli, there were so many things that could have gone wrong, yet they didn’t. It was a lesson in planning and management but I let that take up my mind later. Not now. Now, was the time to be grateful, not to wonder how the pieces came together to form the jigsaw, but to admire the jigsaw that had become our Dandeli experience.

wanderlust

Twice in a Week

D'you think we'll make it?

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