Bekal to Murudeshwara

We slept pretty wonderfully last night. It was peaceful. Until about 4:30am when that darn repetitive music that we had heard in Kalpatta, started again. Thankfully it did stop after a while so we got a bit more sleep before our complimentary breakfast. And what a delicious breakfast it was. A Keralan mix of steam cakes, dosai, lentil curry, bananas, sweet tea, coffee and even a newspaper all ready and waiting for us in little thermoses and insulated dishes. We sat in our very own entertaining area of our very own house, while the room boy hung around, and soaked it all in. After a chat with the owner we were off. Or at least we thought we were. Big Red just did not want to leave this morning. It took a good half an hour before he woke up and was ready to roll. We think he must have known it would be a difficult ride and that perhaps that was why he was reluctant to leave. About 40km down we went to overtake a truck but Big Red's back end slid out a little. Chris pulled us over to the right hand side of the road and his suspicions were confirmed...flat tire.

Thankfully, we were but 100m from a 'tyre works.' Some Tuk Tuk drivers directed us over to a guy who spoke enough English for us to confirm we had a puncture. Not much was said...he simply got to work. He patched up the tyre tube and had Big Red back in one piece in about an hour. In that time he even managed to stop for chai and a snack. All up, Big Red's operation had cost us 60 INR. Yes, rupees. Not dollars. 60 INR. About a dollar. What a great guy! He could have charged us anything, knowing we had no other options, but he didn't and he restored our faith in the locals.

We tried to make up time as we headed North to Murudeshwara. With 80km to go we stopped for some snacks by a river under a bridge which looked strangely like the one between Kochi and Kalpatta. We attracted the same local attention before getting back on the road. Chris' horn beeping skills got a work out as oncoming buses and trucks persisted to crowd our side of the road. He even managed to grab the attention of a local lady as he zoomed past honking ferociously.

We arrived in Murdeshwara about 3pm and then were on the hunt for accommodation. After asking around at a bunch of places ranging in both price and quality we settled on, you guessed it, the first place we had tried. RNS Highway Hotel for 900 INR a night. After being told there was only hot water in the mornings we were pleased to jump in the shower and find, somehow, we had hot water in the afternoon too. We felt slightly better about paying our 900 INR.

Heading back into town we realised that Murudeshwara has more going on than we thought. The world's second largest statue of Lord Shiva and a huge Temple towered over the beach while crowds of locals galavanted on the sand. Beach stalls reminiscent of those in Chennai crowded the sand as overcrowded 4WDs bustled on the road.

We found a random place in town for dinner and enjoyed our first Malai Kofta as recommended by Kyle. We also tried a dahl palak which I enjoyed greatly. Chris however...well...I think he needs a good serve of steak. And his shorts, which barely stay up now without a belt, agree with me.

 

Kalpatta to Bekal and a Jeep Safari

Wyanad Wildlife Sanctuary Muthanga

Deer, Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary Muthanga

Once we woke up we got on the way to Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary (Muthanga). At the bustling ticket counter we ran into Laurie (an American living and working in Mysore for a month) and her workmate (a local lady.) With their help, the four of us organised to share the cost of one jeep and got our tickets with minimal fuss.

The jeep took us down a ridiculously bumpy track and into the sanctuary. We followed a set loop, keeping our eyes peeled for animals. The scrubby terrain made it difficult though as our vision was limited to the passage through which we drove. Our driver seemed to be more useful than our guide, managing to manoeuvre down the bumpy track while spotting deer, elephant dung and tiger tracks all while our guide just sat there. On a number of instances, one of us passengers spotted an animal and asked the driver to stop before either of their trained sets of eyes saw it.

'Physically handicapped' monkey

Our driver kindly informed us that evenings were the best time for spotting animals, particularly the tigers, but that it was a lot less safe. When we questioned him as to why he pulled out a newspaper article from the day before to show us. A man had been attacked by a tiger at a wildlife sanctuary just 4km from where we were. Goody.

About half way through our safari we turned onto the sealed road which runs through the sanctuary and which is open to the public. So, essentially, we could have given ourselves a tour of much of the sanctuary and seen just as many monkeys as we had on the tour. But...this is India. And the monkey we did get a close up of had no hands. Poor little guy. When we asked our guide for an explanation, all we got was 'he's physically handicapped.'

The Indian lady in our tour group and the Indian driver were a prime example of India's diverse spectrum of languages. Often, the locals speak English to each other, as with so many local languages floating around, they can't communicate in any local language.

When we decided there wasn't much more to do in Wayanad District, we figured we may as well head West. We rode back to Rainbow Cottage, checked out, watched a lady chase cows out of the guesthouse garden, speedily packed our things, and set off. It was going to be a big day when, already, we had ridden 60km.

Rainbow Cottage

With me as navigator we came down the hill from Rainbow Cottage and on our second turn came across a road that was no more. They were doing some kind of construction which had required ripping a huge hole across the span of the road. As Chris tried to manoeuvre a three-point turn and I considered a new route a helpful man told us he would help us "get across." Surely he wasn't talking about this road, we thought. There was no road. There was barely a footpath. And the 30cm of footpath that remained was in pieces, crowded with people, rocks and other debri. But, as the man cleared a couple of rocks and I was told to get off the bike a crowd of locals gathered to offer advice through rambling and pointing and getting in the way. I watched anxiously as Chris and Big Red traversed the gap. They made it, I snapped a photo and we were back on our way.

Road?

We cruised the uncrowded back road that took us through towns that, by the stares we got, we figured hadn't seen tourists in some time. Starving, we eventually found a place that advertised it was 'for food.' Perfect. We ordered up some vegetable masalas and parottas and were both stuffed for a delicious 58 INR. Back on Big Red we found, what Chris can be quoted as calling, "the best road in India." Although it twisted and turned, the bitumen was the smoothest we'd come across. We counted down the eleven signposted hairpin bends and made it back into the sticky heat of the plains. The scenery changed as quickly as it had on our way into the hills and as the day progressed we were again surrounded by rice paddies, backwaters, banana plantations and coconut palms.

Before we knew it we were being welcomed back to the coast by the smell of fish. We followed the road North, wondering the whole way what everyone was doing today as all of the shops seemed to be shut. Turns out, on Sundays, locals spend their day milling around markets on main roads and generally creating chaos for tourists on Royal Enfields. We pushed our way through the traffic and made it into Bekal for sunset. All day I had been copping more stares than usual and, as we approached Bekal and the Muslims were out in force enjoying their Sunday I realised I had shorts on. My knees were showing. That'll do it.

Locals saw us looking a little lost and, thinking we could surely only be in Bekal for one reason, directed us down a winding beach road to one of the many 'resort and spas.' At $310 AUD a night, its not exactly what we were looking for. As we perused the Lonely Planet and the Internet for accommodation options we received our very first "namaste." It only took two and a half weeks.

After some quick googling, we found a cheaper place back off the beach, across the railway track and down some back streets that seemed more our style. When we finally found it, we drove past it and were called back by the lovely owner. He guided us down to the house of his forefathers which he had converted to a guesthouse when he built his own grand house 9 years ago. It was stunning.

Set on a ground of gardens and coconut palms we entered through an indoor/outdoor entertaining area complete with beautiful old wooden furnishings. Each of the rooms had been converted but, being the only guests, we had the house to ourselves. And a 'room boy.' A guy who stood outside our place all night in case we needed anything.

After showers we went into town for dinner. Our guesthouse owner suggested we eat at Bekal Palace. We knew the place. We had stopped there to ask about rooms and they had quoted us 1750 INR plus 12.5% tax. Gosh we hated that darn tax that kept popping up everywhere. We took pleasure in returning, to eat only, knowing we had paid about the same amount as they had quoted and, instead of getting a box on the main road had scored ourselves a beautiful old home for the night. We did enjoy their paneer butter masala though.

Miscellaneous observations:

Men row skinny boats loaded up with huge piles of sand to river-side construction sites. Bowls are then used to relocate the sand. Wheelbarrows are not. Wheelbarrows are however attached to motorbikes and used as trailers.

The big green road signs feel very familiar until you realise they, more often than not, provide directions and distances to temples and ashrams rather than towns and cities.

Indians can do roundabouts! It just takes traffic lights or policemen to direct traffic for it to work.

Suddenly the poor driving skills of the locals makes sense when you see a driving instructor talking on the phone while nudging the wheel of his learner driver.

The police are laid back. They tried to pull us over but, as we had already passed them, we kept going. It obviously wasn't too important as they weren't about to jump in their car and come after us.

Talking on one phone and texting on another all while riding a motorbike is a skill one should never learn.

Riding with a helmet in your lap is not the same as wearing a helmet on your head. Similarly, a construction site hard hat is not a helmet.

There are only so many chickens stuffed into so many cages piled high on so many trucks you can see before you can't bring yourself to eat chicken anymore

When Chris' honking successfully prompts an oncoming vehicle to move back into their rightful lane, Chris will fist pump the air.

Friendships between men are more openly touchy feely than any other. Holding hands, hugging, walking with arms around one another are just some of the norm.

People build beautiful houses and then, out of what looks like a fear of them getting wet, build giant corrugated iron covers that sit a couple of metres above them and cover the entire property.

In terms if people carrying capacity, a motorbike is not a car. A car is not a van. A van is not a bus. A bus is not a train. Oh, and twelve people in a Tuk Tuk is too many.

People carry loads on their head so heavy that they are unable to lift them up or down themselves.

 

 

 

Chembra Peak and Edakkal Caves: Wayanad District

The view from Chembra Peak

Hiking, Chembra Peak

At 5am the dog started. At 5:15am some repetitive music started and the dogs continued. At 5:30am the orchestra of surrounding mosques played the call to prayer again, still slightly out of synch with each other, and the music and dogs continued. Sleep was over. We put off getting up until we couldn't bear it anymore and were still out the door by 6:45am. When Big Red finally woke up we headed in search of Kanthanpara Waterfall. Instead we found Sentinel Rock Waterfall. Unfortunately though, it was closed. Yes...the waterfall was closed. Chris thinks they must turn the water off at night. An old man approached us from one of the stalls setting up to entertain the Indian tourists for the day. His approach meant we weren't able to slip down the road to the waterfall without anybody noticing. Bugger. The man informed us of what we already had noticed...the waterfall was closed. He was also kind enough to let us know that it cost money to see it. What!?!?

As by this stage it was going on 8am we headed to the Meppadi Forest Office to get our permits for Chembra Peak. We rode down a windy, goat track of a road into a tea estate and were directed to the office. I was unimpressed to find the list of prices on the wall showing that foreigners were being charged twenty times what the locals were being charged. 50 vs 1000 rupees. We figured we were there so we may as well pay the $17.50 AUD and get amongst it but that didn't stop us stewing on the fact. We questioned why we were being charged so much but all we could get out of them was that the prices were set by the government.

Chris off on another photo mission

After snapping some photos of ladies picking tea we were directed onto the hiking track by a friendly guy in a funny house. It was steep. There was no circling around the mountain to make the incline more gradual but rather we walked pretty much straight up. We stopped for a breakfast snack in the shade before we lost the shade and were exposed to the full pelt of the sun. We continued on passing a dried up lake that we were disappointingly thought was the 'heart lake' that Chembra was famous for. So, after trekking up a rocky, dusty goat track of a path and through some very tall grass, we were pleased to come across the actual heart lake...with water and everything. Chris went off, trudging through the long grass to take some photos and I suddenly felt like a lion, hiding in the grass taking photos of him from a distance.

Heart Lake, Chembra Peak

The 'track' to the peak

With the heart lake came views of the peak itself and for the first time we were aware of just what we had got ourselves into. It was high. And we could see the track, if you could even call it that, following the ridge line, straight up. We puffed and panted our way up, scrambling over rocks as we went. Still stewing on being overcharged, and then stewing on every other thing that annoyed me about India, it was probably not the best time of the month for me to be sweating my way up a mountain. But...it was totally worth it.

When we finally reached the peak we had eagles soaring at eye level and clouds floating past us. During two and a half hours of walking we had gained 800m in elevation. Thanks to our rising early, we were the first to reach the top and so far ahead of everyone else, that we had it all to ourselves for the entire time. We stood on the highest rock on the highest peak in Wayanad District and got some photos before enjoying some more snacks. The views of the surrounding mountains and towns beneath us were lovely.

Summit, Chembra Peak

As we started our descent we began to pass other trekkers making their way to the summit. Lots of them. As we reached the heart lake it was stinking hot there were crowds of people heading past us. We suddenly felt very organised as we, in our hiking boots and with our camel packs, passed people in sandals who had no water and were asking us whether they could drink from the lake. Because we obviously look like the kind of people who would be reliable sources for this kind of information.

We love camel packs

After 13km of walking we made it back to Big Red safely. We went to drive away but were stopped by a man asking for 10 rupees as a parking fee. "Tell him he's dreamin'" we thought. There had been no mention of such a fee beforehand and, after paying 1000 rupees already, we weren't about to fork out any more.

Edakkal Caves

We rode back down the hill and as we passed the ticket office I was pleased not to see anybody waiting to take us away in cuffs for having avoided the 10 rupee fee. Next stop, Edakkal Caves.

Happy to find some free parking we started the walk up to the caves. Having covered 13km already (half of which was going straight up a mountain) we were sore and tired. So, when the hill to the caves just kept going and going, past all types of stores selling all types of things in true Indian fashion, we were over it. Thankfully, we reached the ticket office and were charged 15 INR each...the same as Indians are charged. Good thing too, because I would not have wanted to be the guy opposite Chris, trying to over charge us.

We had a quick look at the caves which, for the walk up, were a bit disappointing. Even more disappointing was the number of stairs we had to climb to explore them. We did however get chatting to a lovely girl and her family. She was quite taken with Chris' beard and grey hairs and my pale skin. As usual, we talked cricket and then touched on jewellery, music, food, careers and the traffic of Kerela being 'the mistake of the local jurisdiction' as our new friend so eloquently put it.

Exhausted and starving we made it back to our guesthouse for a snack and a shower before heading back to last night's dinner spot for more paneer butter masala. Again we grabbed snacks on the way home and again speakers blared speeches from the town. It died down after a while though, thank goodness.

 

Cherai Beach to Kalpatta

Buying lunch

We gathered our things and said goodbye to our lovely little beach resort. Big Red took us north along Vypeen Island on a tour of some of India's beautiful homes. They were stunning and classy and mansions by any standard. We then crossed a bridge, under which colourful boats floated in the backwaters and before we knew it we were back on the chaotic mainland. After a couple of kilometres it was breakfast time: some delicious roadside miscellaneous snacks and chai which gave me a weird phlegmy throat.

We stopped in Ponnnani to stock up on fruit at one of the many roadside stalls and then continued our arduous journey inland. We had somehow taken a road that, while perhaps being the most direct, was not of the greatest quality. As we travelled we passed more and more mosques until there seemed to be one around every corner. Bathed in various shades of green they stood triumphant over the dirty streets around them.

Lunch break

Lunch time views

Looking for somewhere to devour our pineapple Chris took inspiration from the water beneath the bridge we were on and took a turn off the main road. After following a tiny side street that twisted and turned between people's homes we found ourselves almost under the highway bridge from which we had come with a seat, a river to wash our hands in, boats to take photos of and stunning views of the coconut lined waterways. We chopped and ate our pineapple (thanks trusty market knife) attracting a waving father and daughter as we did.

After a huge day of riding that seemed to just keep going and going and going, we were exhausted. We made it to Kalpatta around 3pm and then thought...now what. Lonely Planet provided little inspiration for accomodation ideas, our new SIM cards (and the pocket Internet they would provide) were not yet activated and there were no people coming up to us in the street asking if we needed a room, despite how hot, bothered and dirty both Big Red and we were. As we drove the streets of Kalpatta we saw, for the first but probably not the last time, a production line of people carrying big bowls of wet concrete on their heads, up stairs to the roof of a two storey building on a construction site. Wow. And, for probably not the last time, we questioned whether this was the most efficient way of doing things.

Driving around the streets of Kalpatta, eventually getting our Internet working but having no success finding accomodation, we were beginning to think we'd have to settle for a dorm in the city centre with the locals. We drove up a hill, and I jumped off to check things out. Chris was drawn up a hill because it "looked interesting" and I was drawn up the same hill because I saw a sign to, finally, a guesthouse. And boy were we glad we both went up there. We had stumbled upon Rainbow Cottage which had a 5 star rating on TripAdviser.com and they advertised that fact proudly. We talked our new mate Livingston, yes Livingston, down from 2500 INR to 1500 INR and, considering we were the only ones there and Livingston said he's turn the wifi on for us, we figured we'd have a nice quiet night.

After having a wonderfully hot shower and finally starting to feel somewhat normal again we went into town in search of a sensor cleaner for the annoying spot that was marring Chris' photos. No luck. But we did find me a big set of green and gold bangles that jingle and leave a trail of glitter wherever I go. And we did get to hear some guys giving speeches to a bored looking crowd on the main street. The speeches were being blared through stupidly loud speakers so that everybody could hear. Everybody in the whole district! It seems that you don't get a choice in India whether you hear people's speeches or crappy music. They play it loud enough for the entire town to hear.

We walked up and down the main streets three or four times looking for a dinner place we had seen earlier in the day. It had gone. India, especially the cities, change constantly and look completely different from one time of the day to the next as shops open and others close.

We thought we found a place to eat but, after sticking it to them and refusing to sit in their air conditioned room (because we now know they charge us more if we let them guide us in there) we were informed there was no vegetarian food available. And, because it was most definitely not the kind of establishment at which we would trust the meat, we moved on and found a delicious place which introduced us to a new favourite...paneer (kind of like haloumi cheese) butter masala. We left stuffed and with four litres of water and still only paid just over 200 rupees.

We stocked up on snacks on the way home, ready to go and take advantage of our wifi. Nope. No wifi. No surprise. Sleep?

Sleep was made difficult by the fact that our guesthouse seems to be smack bang in the middle of four or five mosques so, when they all play the call to prayer slightly out of synch with each other, it's not so peaceful at Rainbow Cottage. And when the speeches you heard earlier in the evening continue, along with some music, which echoes right up the hill, sleep is made near impossible.

 

Fort Kochi and Cherai Beach

Chinese Fishing Nets, Fort Kochi

This morning, after another good sleep in peaceful surrounds, we rode the 50km back to the mainland then out to Fort Kochi. We took an alternative route, taking in the backwaters of Vypeen Island before hitting the heavy, erratic traffic on the National Highway.

Lauren's new home

While not actually a fort, Fort Kochi has a strong historical feel having been taken by both the Portugese and the Dutch in the past. We parked up Big Red and explored the streets in foot. We started off on the promenade which ran along the northern coast of Fort Kochi. Lonely Planet recommended we check out the Chinese Fishing nets that the area is so well known for. We arrived to find that the nets were like the many we had seen on our adventures to Cherai Beach yesterday. We have a habit of seeing things, like monkeys and fishing nets, before the Lonely Planet says we should. We then hit the backstreets. Many of the streets had a European vibe if Europe had adopted pesky and relentless salesmen and Tuk Tuk drivers. No thank you...we would not like a tour of the fort. We had intended to check out the old Dutch Cemetry and, when we arrived to find it closed, figured it would open up soon enough. Apparently not. A friendly Tuk Tuk driver informed us that the Cemetry was now closed to the public, except on special request, thanks to the alcoholics and druggies who enjoyed fulfilling their habit between the large graves. We stumbled upon Bob Marley Cafe and Lauren fit right in.

St Francis Church, Fort Kochi

Next stop was St Francis Church. We removed our shoes and entered the noisy Church. It's stained glass windows and tomb failed to save this landmark from what the noise had ruined. A church just doesn't feel like a church when there isn't a hush through the crowd.

Fort Kochi was reminding us a lot of Galle in that its Heritage Hotels, European middle-aged package tourists and overpriced cafes were in stark contrast to Kochi's mainland beeping, honking town centre.

Still without breakfast we grabbed Big Red and rode around to Jew Town. Mattancherry Palace was our first stop. After buying our 5 INR tickets we fought the crowds, both Indian and European, and checked out the murals, artefacts, portraits and info that came with them. The building itself was very cool with huge wooden doors, wooden ceilings and views of the "fish pond" outside. We searched for the image of Krishna performing foreplay on eight happy milkmaids while managing to play the flute but had no luck. By this stage we were getting awful sick of the crowds and the postcards, tiger balm, painted leaves, puppets, lanterns, clothes, sequinned blankets and everything else you will probably never need so we wandered around to The Synagogue hoping for some peace. Yeah right!

Tuk Tuk graveyard, Fort Kochi

Again we paid our 5 INR to the overworked, stressed door-lady. Thanks to a room of paintings we were given a run-down on Judaisim and the history of Jews in Kochi. Then it was shoes off again as we entered a rather unimpressive Synagogue. Despite signage requesting that people maintain silence, there was a lot of chatter as people, namely the Indian tourists, milled about inside. Again, there seems to be a general lack of consideration for others. Perhaps we shouldn't feel so bad about chatting and taking photos at their temples. We then rode the narrow Bazaar Road as people bought and sold all manner of delicious smelling spices, reversed around blind corners and loaded up trucks at the spice markets.

Take Three of the Sim Card Saga: we returned to Idea Headoffice armed with passports, passport photos (our supply is dwindling quickly), a Keralan reference, our phones and Indian mobile numbers. After just a quick bit of paperwork we were on our way to "pocket Internet" without the roaming charges that had eaten away our last bit of credit.

We battled the traffic again and rode, hot and sweaty by this stage, back to Cherai Beach. We took advantage of having wifi before taking another dip in the sea and lazing beneath a tree on the beach.

Backwaters, Cherai

On the way to try and find some dinner it was photography time. We returned to the zigzagging, narrow strips of land which divided the backwaters and Chris captured the sunset while locals watched on. Then...the hunt for food. Cherai is well set up for package tourists who don't want to leave the beach and don't want to try local food. Restaurants selling Western food abound. We drove up and down the island looking for a local restaurant to serve us up some tasty Keralan treats. No such luck. While we found one restaurant which sold only chilli meals (the fried chilli chicken he was cooking up smelt amazing) we settled on our guesthouse for dinner. We tried our first Palaou (rice dish) which was delicious, chapati and a "dulled-down for tourists" version of butter chicken masala.

Backwaters, Cherai

 

Alleppey to Cherai Beach, Vypeen Island

Living the boat life

Breakfast on the backwaters

After a peaceful sleep on the Keralan backwaters we watched the fishermen and their families float around checking their nets in tiny circular boats. We watched men selling fish pull up for Chai in their boats at the nearby restaurant and watched a old man taxi people back and forth across the water.

Once Captain and Cook were ready, we set sail again. While on our way we enjoyed an English style omelette and toast for breakfast before docking back where we had started yesterday. We finished packing our things, disembarked and then realised we had forgotten the one overpriced beer we hadn't consumed. Chris went back looking only to find that, within the two minutes we had been gone, the 'fridge man' had apparently come and taken the ice box. Either that or Captain and Cook are enjoying a drink on us.

We jumped on Big Red, who had enjoyed a night sleeping with the bus drivers, paid our 20 INR parking fee and set off for Kochi. It was an easy, short ride (100km-ish) to reach the outskirts of the city. We stopped to make our first attempt at getting new SIM cards after ours ceased to work once we entered Kerala. The man at the mobile shop on the corner informed us that the recharge card Captain had bought us in Alleppey was broken and sold us another. Still, our internet was not fixed. A helpful customer who spoke English then informed us that our best bet was to head into town to the Idea Showroom!

The people at the Idea Showroom told us we should go to the Idea Headquarters. We really were moving up and up. They gave us some vague directions, telling us only to go across the bridge, straight and near the shipping yard. They looked at us like we were idiots when we questioned where said shipping yard may be. Regardless, we found the shipping yard, and then the Idea Headquarters, with little problem. After a short wait we were told that the SIM cards we had would charge us roaming fees when outside Tamil Nadu where they were purchased. We needed data sims and these could only be bought if we had the details of a local Keralan person who would act as our reference. Apparently they didn't see the luggage still strapped to Big Red as they were surprised when we didn't have a local friend. Despite Chris' best efforts to get the saleswoman to allow us to grab the details of another customer, we were told to come back once we had a hotel.

Then came the ride to Vypeen Island, just off the coast of Kochi. When we set off we weren't even sure there would be a road but, Chris' reasoning that "this is India, they prefer to drive" proved true. A road took us all the way. A long way. 24km of heavy traffic, one way bridges and narrow roads made it a long way to Cherai Beach. After asking at just a couple of different guesthouses, we settled on Sea Line, a beachfront place that we bargained down from 3500 to just 2000 INR per night. With hot water, wifi and a beach out the back we were happy despite the power outage which was expected to go from 10am-5pm both today and tomorrow. Oh India.

We jumped into the Arabian Sea which was even warmer than the water we swam in in Sri Lanka. The kind of water you could stay in all day and not get cold. Deciding Big Red was making us lazy, we left him at home and walked the three kilometres into town to find some lunch. Happy with our samosas and onion bajis we sat on the footpath to eat, and down some much needed water, while locals giggled at us. We then found some much needed sunscreen that would actually keep the Indian sun's damage to a minimum. Getting a high SPF rating, over 15%, sunscreen is hard! Finally the pharmacist dusted off a small tube which was, according to the label, only to be used if prescribed by a medical practitioner. Hack duty...exactly what we needed.

Sunset from Sea Line Hotel, Cherai Beach

We watched the sunset over the sea from the hotel balcony then set off into the little town of Cherai in search of dinner. There were limited options and when we finally settled on a place we were quickly directed by a owner in to his 'AC family restaurant' so he could charge us more. We enjoyed our first parota (flakey bread that's been spiralled before cooking), steam cake (an South Indian breakfkast bread), veg biriyani and a cauliflower (gobi) dish.

We returned home and I had a rough ten minutes. First I was confused when my phone wouldn't charge but then realised I had one charger plugged into my phone and another plugged into the wall. Then I stood on Chris' tripod and cut my toe open. It was definitely time for bed.

 

Kumily to Alleppey and The Houseboat

Our boat

Big Red started first go this morning. Then he stopped and did not want to start again. The electric start wasn't working and not even a kick start or rollstart were helping. A helpful local man thought he could help. But, after disappearing for a minute or two, came back and offered us a water bottle with a little petrol in it. We had already crossed a lack of petrol off the list so that was no good. So, our new friend called over some young guys who were walking past. Thankfully, they spoke English and offered a range of possible solutions, one of which was a push start. As I watched Chris and Big Red disappear down the hill, our new petrol-providing friend and myself exchanged amused head wobbles. I listened from up the road and finally heard Big Red kick over. Turns out he has an on/off switch and the kind young guys had simply flicked it back on and had Big Red going like a charm in no time. In exchange for their favour, all they wanted were a few pored photos on Big Red and Big Red was happy to oblige. Turns our they too were heading to Alleppey today.

Not long after leaving Kumily we entered tea county and felt as though we were back in Sri Lanka. For kilometres we wove between rolling seas of stunning green tea which clung to the hills like little pillows. We wound our way between hill stations and took in breathtaking views of the valley and surrounding hills.

It was all very serene until we came around a blind corner to find a bus overtaking a Tuk Tuk and hence speeding around the corner on our side of the road. Thanks to some ninja like reflexes on Chris' behalf, we braked in time to avoid Big Red touching noses with the big bus.

As we approached the West coast the scenery became that of the fabled Keralan backwaters. Large canals with stone walls and steps leading down to the water lined the road and woman smacked their laundry on the stones.

We rode into Alleppey expecting to be accosted by potential houseboat drivers. That was not the case. We asked at a tourist office before heading towards the boat ramp as we figured that was our best bet for booking a reasonably priced boat for the night. As we pulled up a man asked us whether we were after a boat and, as we were, we followed him on the bike on a circuit of the city before going to view his boat. We were quoted 5500 INR and decided we ought to at least look at one other before agreeing. After riding around for a while and finding there seemed to be a serious lack of boats due to our relatively late arrival time (midday), we returned, as we have a habit of doing, to the first man and his first boat. Bargaining him down to 5000 INR, for a one bedroom houseboat, 21 hours on the water, a cook and a driver, we were happy. We were also happy to pay 200 INR each for some beers. Until they arrived and we saw that their max retail price was 70 INR. Oh well...we'll know for next time.

Keralan backwaters, Alleppy

We floated through the maze of canals which, lined with coconut palms and rice paddies, were extremely picturesque. We stopped in at the local fish market and bought half a kilo of probably the biggest prawns we have ever seen. For lunch we docked and enjoyed rice, curries and papadams before our Captain took a snooze while our poor old cook did the cleaning. All of the waiting we seem to do here would be a lot more bearable if we were told how long we would be waiting and why. The next time we stopped I spotted our Captain taking a swim. Being the annoying tourist that I am, I wanted in. I donned by swimming dress (a bikini and a sarong to cover up) and Captain guided me down the slippery rocks into the green water as plants, rubbish and coconuts floated past.

Swim time

As the day closed, we watched from the upper deck as the sun scattered stars of gold along the water. We docked to the sound of hundreds of crows making a ruckus. Captain went into Alleppey to grab us some phone credit, amongst other things, and we wandered off the boat and through a village situated in the backwaters of Alleppey. Compared to elsewhere in India, it was blissfully peaceful as we strolled past canals and very friendly locals.

Local villagers

Our fresh prawns revere skewered and cooked in a tasty mix of garlic, ginger, chilli and fish masala. Perfection! Combine that with more curry, chapatti, lettuce fingers and other side dishes and we were stuffed!

We finished the evening on the upper deck of our houseboat with local Keralan beers. Ahhhhh! Until the bugs got to us. We wisely finished our beers in our room under the combination of fan and air conditioner (which we weren't sure we had paid for) before being rocked to sleep by the lapping waters.

 

Kodai to Kumily and Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary

We had set our alarms for 6am intending to make an early start. When the alarm went off, it got quickly turned off. Chris dragged himself out of bed about 6:30am only to open the door to our balcony, decide it was too cold for bike riding, and leap like a gazelle back into bed.

Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary

We got on the road about 7:30am and it was cold! Chris' poor exposed hands copped the brunt of the chill as we rode down the mountain, watching the sun teasingly hit everywhere but the road on which were we riding. Thankfully, with the sun rising, and us swiftly decreasing in altitude, after 50km or so it was time to strip off some layers. Riding through one of the many random towns along the way Chris was zipping between two, almost stationary, buses and managed to stall the bike. Thankfully, Big Red works well under pressure and started first go, getting us out from the between the two buses before we were squished. After a pretty good run, we rode into Kumily and found a place to stay, thanks to some forward planning, with little hassle. We settled on The Cottage at Coffee Inn and with views of the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary from our room and 24 hour hot water in probably the cleanest bathroom yet, we were pretty happy. Especially when Chris bargained the price down to 1000 INR per night. We're slowly accepting that this kind of price is going to be the norm if we want some kind of semblance of clean. Oh well, luckily food costs close to nothing.

Mali, our trusty guide

After dumping our luggage we went straight to the Ecotourism Centre to organise a trek for the afternoon. We were told it simply was not possible as all places were filled and that we would have to wait until tomorrow. But, we wouldn't let a small hurdle like that stop us! We found a spice store that advertised trekking and after a few phone calls back and forth, a man arrived and informed us that he would let us tag along on somebody else's tour. Whether this was legitimate or not we have no idea. But for 1200 INR for the both of us we had spot son a three hour Cloud Walk with two Germans and a friendly guide named Mali and we didn't have to wait until tomorrow. All it took was handing over our money to a guy on a motorbike, who ensured us he would buy tickets for us, trusting him and walking to some side entrance which led to the park.

There's no escaping technology

We were wary of how good the walk would be when we set off on a sealed road. But, after some time, we entered the park through a gap in the huge concrete fence and, at a snail's pace, explored the park off the beaten track. We walked the 4km so slowly that it took almost the entire three hours. We figured that pace was good training for Nepal. We got to see deer, monkeys, giant black squirrels, woodpeckers and a bunch of other birds and learnt a bit about the spices which are so sought after in Kumily. For instance, did you know that there are guards who watch over the sandalwood trees at night because poachers try to cut them down to sell? Sandalwood...the new elephant tusk. While we didn't see any elephants or tigers and we probably see more monkeys along the road than we saw in the park, it was a quiet, relaxing three hours and Mali did seem genuinely keen on trying to spot us as much wildlife as possible. We were made to feel like real trackers as Mali picked up animal poo to show us. He picked leaves and bark and crushed them for us to smell making us feel right amongst it. Every now and then he would stop us all and listen for animals and, on two occasions, left us in the wilderness while he went 'looking.' I was grateful to have Chris and his magic GPS watch in case Mali decided not to come back.

After finishing the trek and wandering around to the main park entrance we were told it was too late to enter the park again to see the lake. And, despite only having bought our ticket at 2pm, it would not be valid for use tomorrow morning. Bummer. Sorry Pete...no lake for us. I'm not sure how kindly they'd have looked upon us taking a dip anyway. Did you even have to pay when you were here?

After showering we had a disappointingly bland dinner, the first of our trip. We tried to remedy the situation with ice cream and beers but, like most things, this was exceptionally more difficult than we imagined. The only ice cream we could find was the scoop variety, not the 'on a stick and takeaway' variety. And the beers? Well, after asking a place whether they sold Kingfisher Beer, and having them agree, we climbed a wobbly spiral staircase and sat down. When they quoted us 300 INR for the kingfisher it sounded expensive so Chris asked how big it was. When the man finally returned, looking quite pleased with himself, he set a plate of whole-fish down on the table and said 'Kingfisher!' There was absolute confusion when we tried to explain that we did not actually want any fish as they seemed to have no concept of beer.

After wandering back and forth through the streets of Kumily for a while we gave up and headed home. Just as we thought we'd had a great day and would go to bed enjoying India and have a full night sleep for once...the music started. To make matters worse, it was blaring straight out of the general vicinity of the Wildlife Sanctuary. It's almost like people just can't deal with quiet. So, just when you find a place away from the honking and yelling, they ruin it with shit music. I mean, Aqua's Barbie Girl? Seriously? Thankfully the music eased and after a while all we could hear were crickets. Unfortunately, just as Chris couldn't sleep in the peace of Kodai, I couldn't sleep here.

View from our room at sunset of Periyar Wldlife Sanctuary