Tufty Club

In search of the new (mountain biking) lands we embarked upon a 2 day cycling tour to Kodaikanal. 30 km on road up to Top Station at 2000 metres above sea level then a cut through a steep sided terraced valley reminiscent of Nepal which caused a smile from our possibly homesick guide Rakesh. From there all trails through the Western Ghat mountain range led up and on we pedaled and pushed for hour after hour until reaching another valley which after a tremendous descent spat us out at the town of Kalavala. From there, 45 km on a broken traffic less road led us through forests to our destination Kodaikanal.

Nothing seems possible in the decidedly unaccommodating Kodaikanal. A visit to the forest department in search of their recommended trekking maps proved futile. After 10 minutes of unproductive discussion I concluded “No information, no pamphlets, no trekking, nothing possible, is this a fair reflection of what you have to offer?” “Yes” replied the forest officer. I shook his hand and thanked him before leaving. “Do not try the trekking guides they will mislead you,” he shouted as I walked out. Which reminded me of a trekking guide in Munnar who offered me his services and card. The card stated

MR SURESH KUMAR

LISENSD TRIKKING GUIDE.

ALL TRIKKING AVILABULL

Surrounding the very attractive star shaped lake that forms the heart of Kodaiakanal sit stone bungalows with well trimmed gardens welcoming the visitor with a stern ‘No trespassing.” All the tracts of forested land sandwiched in between have also been fenced off. Worst of all were the church of South India who appeared to own most of the prime lands protected by 8 ft fences replete with signs like “beware very savage dogs” and “violators will be prosecuted”. I half expected to see a sign saying “Fuck Off” adorning the gates of the numerous crumbling British built churches.

Attempts to avail a day pass for the Kodaikanal club, which is advertised as welcoming visitors also proved problematic. Signs stressed the need to wear a jacket and collared long sleeve shirt which precludes most occasional visitors I suspect. “ Are you a member of a club?” asked the club secretary. “Yes but you might not recognize them” I replied. “Which club is that” probed the secretary as he surveyed my flip-flops and collarless long sleeve cycle shirt which was unfortunately stained. Errm “The All England Mountain Bike Club and I used to be a member of Tufty Club”. Do you have a letter of rcccommendation? “ Errrr No” .