Another tour of duty finished and I find myself in Cochin waiting for the next group arriving tonight from Singapore. In the room next door is a very pretty French lady who looks rather comical in a non too fetching neck brace a result of a mishandled ayurvedic massage and a rather unfortunate fall off one of my mountain bikes. I blame the massage. She blames me.
All else appears well except for some access issues with some of tea estate managers in our highest mountain bike base of Munnar. The tea estate managers are instantly visible with their wide brimmed hats, socks pulled up over the knees, ludicrous thigh clenching shorts, walrus moustaches and accents sourced presumably sourced from back copies of Black Adder and the character of Colonel Melchet. We now have “allied” tea estates where we can cycle around freely without fear and those now classified as “enemy” estates manned by watchman whose job it is to expel any foreigners, cyclists or clueless Indian newly wed tourists intent on grabbing a quick photo.
Food problems continue with the Nepali guide Rakesh, we have moved out of the rooms with a kitchen and are back staying in the same hotels as the guests, here Rakesh has no choice but to noisily shuvvle down the same food as the rest of us which he described; in a particularly impassioned attack on the merits of South Indian food; as disgusting.
Everyone is a food snob in the subcontinent. Witness any tour party arriving from another part of India and you will see an entourage of chefs pot washers and helpers piling out of minibuses clutching vast cooking vessels ready to rustle up exactly the same food as the tour party is used to at home. Plan to bring my mother over next year with bags of flour and some cheese and knock together some of her famed pies.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Don't be stupid
Birthdays have come and gone and the second day as a 35 year old is celebrated as a rest day with many routine tasks to do. As I type away Rakesh is busy fiddling with his bicycles front mech; a cause of endless fascination and frustration to him. In the room next to me is a giggling Aravind who seems more than happy blowing washing- up liquid bubbles all over me and the computer for reasons known only to himself.
Spent the last three days on trail research which involves getting up at 7.30 a.m for the proposed 7.00 a.m starts and much faffing about. Rakesh maintains that only he can cook food properly with Anglo-Nepali relations reaching a nadir as he accuses me of undercooking the porridge; itself a recent innovation as Rakesh distrusts food taken from outside; I counter attack later in the day as I reprimand him for putting to much oil on his chain.
Massive days on the bikes with an epic 10-hour ride through India’s highest tea estate of Kohl Kumaily with its astounding sheer 2000-meter drops down to Tamil Nadu below. Climb up to 2300 meter with the last 30 minutes a carry to break through a seldom used pass to drop us into Silent Valley and complete a hoped for loop back to Munnar. Things take a turn for the worst as the trails disappear into the forests and we cycle and carry for hours staying high on the ridge looking for signs of a path. By 4 p.m it seems sensible to scramble down any which we can “Anyhow Kam Chalou” in the words of Rakesh. Long grass, stubborn shrubs and thorny trees tear our shins to shreds as we finally catch a glimpse of the tea estates again, only to be thwarted by a cliff sheer drop. We veer left back towards the forests in the gathering gloom and luckily manage to scramble down some less imposing rocks to the tea estate paths just before a night out in the open became a serious concern. I ask Rakesh what lessons we have learnt today expecting some Nepali philosphising about respect for the mountain. The lesson he proclaims is “don’t be stupid”. Seems reasonable enough.
Spent the last three days on trail research which involves getting up at 7.30 a.m for the proposed 7.00 a.m starts and much faffing about. Rakesh maintains that only he can cook food properly with Anglo-Nepali relations reaching a nadir as he accuses me of undercooking the porridge; itself a recent innovation as Rakesh distrusts food taken from outside; I counter attack later in the day as I reprimand him for putting to much oil on his chain.
Massive days on the bikes with an epic 10-hour ride through India’s highest tea estate of Kohl Kumaily with its astounding sheer 2000-meter drops down to Tamil Nadu below. Climb up to 2300 meter with the last 30 minutes a carry to break through a seldom used pass to drop us into Silent Valley and complete a hoped for loop back to Munnar. Things take a turn for the worst as the trails disappear into the forests and we cycle and carry for hours staying high on the ridge looking for signs of a path. By 4 p.m it seems sensible to scramble down any which we can “Anyhow Kam Chalou” in the words of Rakesh. Long grass, stubborn shrubs and thorny trees tear our shins to shreds as we finally catch a glimpse of the tea estates again, only to be thwarted by a cliff sheer drop. We veer left back towards the forests in the gathering gloom and luckily manage to scramble down some less imposing rocks to the tea estate paths just before a night out in the open became a serious concern. I ask Rakesh what lessons we have learnt today expecting some Nepali philosphising about respect for the mountain. The lesson he proclaims is “don’t be stupid”. Seems reasonable enough.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Freewheeling
The first frost of the winter greets me as I step outside my half demolished Munnar hotel. Return to room and cover myself with Canadian made duvet jacket purchased on the Munnar market for 200 Rs (£2.50) The night clothes market has a remarkable ensemble of 2nd hand clothes mostly donations sent by North Americans for the Kashmiri earthquake victims a few years go which have now been recycled around India.
10 day tour just finished all went superbly with mid 30,s friends from home huffing puffing and tumbling around the trails with a New Zealander and a triathlete from South England. Some superb moments with wild elephants spotted near the trails slaking their thirst in the idyllic Mattupatty lake. Closer elephantine encounters came in Kuttikanam with a 1000 metre descent down to the sweltering plains being temporarily halted by a working elephant trundling up the narrow rocky trail head on towards us.
The highlight of the tour for me though was the cycling Sabrimalla pilgrims hundreds of who could be seen In the usual black garb, bearded and barefooted freewheeling down towards Mundekayam a 20km road descent. This was heaven to these men after the 30 km plus climb they had endured; on gearless Indian made lumps to steel; to climb up from the plains of Tamil Nadu before crossing the Western Ghats. The whooping noises and expressions of pure glee as they careered down the mountain side towards the sacred Sabrimmalla temple was unforgettable.
Rakesh the trainee mountain bike guide is much improved after his 10 days training in Pokhara Nepal. Seems more than capable on the rocky technical trails and his fitness has improved greatly. On the downside he appears to be transforming himself into my personal assistant with me in the role of clueless, hapless Engishman caught miles away from home and struggling with the ways oft the natives. My years of subcontinental experiences are reduced to nothing as he corrects my Hindi, makes a mockery of my Malayalam, laughs at my well rehearsed haggling skils in the market and worst of all condemns my freshly made salad as poorly chopped up and refuses to eat it. Need a firm hand these Nepali’s.
10 day tour just finished all went superbly with mid 30,s friends from home huffing puffing and tumbling around the trails with a New Zealander and a triathlete from South England. Some superb moments with wild elephants spotted near the trails slaking their thirst in the idyllic Mattupatty lake. Closer elephantine encounters came in Kuttikanam with a 1000 metre descent down to the sweltering plains being temporarily halted by a working elephant trundling up the narrow rocky trail head on towards us.
The highlight of the tour for me though was the cycling Sabrimalla pilgrims hundreds of who could be seen In the usual black garb, bearded and barefooted freewheeling down towards Mundekayam a 20km road descent. This was heaven to these men after the 30 km plus climb they had endured; on gearless Indian made lumps to steel; to climb up from the plains of Tamil Nadu before crossing the Western Ghats. The whooping noises and expressions of pure glee as they careered down the mountain side towards the sacred Sabrimmalla temple was unforgettable.
Rakesh the trainee mountain bike guide is much improved after his 10 days training in Pokhara Nepal. Seems more than capable on the rocky technical trails and his fitness has improved greatly. On the downside he appears to be transforming himself into my personal assistant with me in the role of clueless, hapless Engishman caught miles away from home and struggling with the ways oft the natives. My years of subcontinental experiences are reduced to nothing as he corrects my Hindi, makes a mockery of my Malayalam, laughs at my well rehearsed haggling skils in the market and worst of all condemns my freshly made salad as poorly chopped up and refuses to eat it. Need a firm hand these Nepali’s.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Sabrimalla
All going swimmingly here as new bikes, new arrivals and the the trainees absorb all time that could have been spent watching the Australia-India test series.
New Year was quiet. No foreigners for hundreds of kilometres as I spent the evening in Kuttikanam at the hotel with 4 young families from Kanjirappalli waiting for the arrival of a booked group of 50 revellers before the evening buffet and music could start. 8 p.m was delayed till 9 p.m, an hour greeted with anxious phone calls to the revellers who promised to arrive soon. 10 p.m came and went, byrianies became cold and kitchen staff became suicidal at the prospect of working through the night to feed the hordes. By 10.30 I was starving and managed to shovel down a plate of tapioca and fiery fish curry in the kitchen just before an announcement that the revellers had cancelled and the food for 60 was to be shared between us. Too full to eat any more I retired early for 2008 with burning lips and a belly full of syrupy ales and expanding tapioca.
Running around like a madman today and have made the 1st half of a 10 hour round trip to pick up an extra bike for the new trainee Sinoj. Crappy looking Trek 4500 but should be O.K for the lanky 17 year old who after 5 rides on the Kona's already looks a better prospect then me. Trainee "number 1" Rakesh from Khatamandu is making his way down on a three day journey by bus and train to arrive on the 9th after 10 days intensive training in Pokhara, under the tutelage of the masterly French downhiller Rebours Tangi. Expect to be reduced to the sweepers role on the tour starting tomorrow and further expect to be put out of business by the pair of them soon after.
Sabrimalli season in full flow at the moment which means medieval scenes at railway stations, picnic spots and almost everywhere else. Millions of pilgrims dressed in black lungis (men skirts)
walk the streets barefooted with bundles of clothes and offerings strapped to the their heads as they make their way to the the forested temple complex of Sabrimalla.
Only men are allowed into the temple complex as women who are capable of menstruating are scene as polluting and could defile the temple complex's purity. Three of us including one lady tried to cycle down a superb downhill trail through the forest last year, but were ambushed by local forest guards unwilling to let the lass pass despite the fact we would by pass the complex by miles.
The men most undergo 41 days of abstinence from sex, wash only with water, not shave and walk around barefooted on their way to the temple complex. Many walk hundreds of miles from the neighbouring states of Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh visible as shuffling black skinned bodies on the side of the road.
In about a weeks time the pilgrim season reaches its climax as the celestial lights appear over the temple to signify the pilgrims darshan with the god Ayappa. The mysterious lights appear like flickering stars and ignite uproarious scenes amongst the frenzied devotees. Non believers claim that the light has a far less godly source and can be tracked down to two men hidden in the thick forest with a powerful torch.
New Year was quiet. No foreigners for hundreds of kilometres as I spent the evening in Kuttikanam at the hotel with 4 young families from Kanjirappalli waiting for the arrival of a booked group of 50 revellers before the evening buffet and music could start. 8 p.m was delayed till 9 p.m, an hour greeted with anxious phone calls to the revellers who promised to arrive soon. 10 p.m came and went, byrianies became cold and kitchen staff became suicidal at the prospect of working through the night to feed the hordes. By 10.30 I was starving and managed to shovel down a plate of tapioca and fiery fish curry in the kitchen just before an announcement that the revellers had cancelled and the food for 60 was to be shared between us. Too full to eat any more I retired early for 2008 with burning lips and a belly full of syrupy ales and expanding tapioca.
Running around like a madman today and have made the 1st half of a 10 hour round trip to pick up an extra bike for the new trainee Sinoj. Crappy looking Trek 4500 but should be O.K for the lanky 17 year old who after 5 rides on the Kona's already looks a better prospect then me. Trainee "number 1" Rakesh from Khatamandu is making his way down on a three day journey by bus and train to arrive on the 9th after 10 days intensive training in Pokhara, under the tutelage of the masterly French downhiller Rebours Tangi. Expect to be reduced to the sweepers role on the tour starting tomorrow and further expect to be put out of business by the pair of them soon after.
Sabrimalli season in full flow at the moment which means medieval scenes at railway stations, picnic spots and almost everywhere else. Millions of pilgrims dressed in black lungis (men skirts)
walk the streets barefooted with bundles of clothes and offerings strapped to the their heads as they make their way to the the forested temple complex of Sabrimalla.
Only men are allowed into the temple complex as women who are capable of menstruating are scene as polluting and could defile the temple complex's purity. Three of us including one lady tried to cycle down a superb downhill trail through the forest last year, but were ambushed by local forest guards unwilling to let the lass pass despite the fact we would by pass the complex by miles.
The men most undergo 41 days of abstinence from sex, wash only with water, not shave and walk around barefooted on their way to the temple complex. Many walk hundreds of miles from the neighbouring states of Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh visible as shuffling black skinned bodies on the side of the road.
In about a weeks time the pilgrim season reaches its climax as the celestial lights appear over the temple to signify the pilgrims darshan with the god Ayappa. The mysterious lights appear like flickering stars and ignite uproarious scenes amongst the frenzied devotees. Non believers claim that the light has a far less godly source and can be tracked down to two men hidden in the thick forest with a powerful torch.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Apartheid
Been a long time getting back to the blog and must do better otherwise will loose my readership, Simon ? All been incredibly busy with the arrival of Sir John Bushby and the Canadian Gavin who both enjoyed a 10 day mountain biking trip. Highlights including Gavin managing to master the Malayalam word for blood "rectum"; of which his legs and arms seemed to provide an endless supply; much to the concern of the locals; and Sir John Bushby breaking down linguistical and national boundaries when coming to terms with an unrelenting verbal assault from a 70 year old, Shakespeare quoting, psychotic, ex Indian railway-ticket inspector with a "very pleased to meet you sir".
Moved to the beach for Christmas and the sands of Varkalla to join the rest of the fisherman pant wearing, banana pancake munching yoga obsessed Christmas crowd. Christmas day on the beach witnessed apartheid back in fashion with a big rope splitting the beach in half guarded by a few policemen stopping the Indian crowds from mixing with the Europeans. Enraged at this I carry the beach towel to the native side of the rope hoping to encourage the pulling down of these racist barriers that divide nations and minds. My high mindedness creates a stir as I am surrounded by the Indian crowds puzzled by my revolutionary actions, they happily point to the other side of the rope as a bit of sand more suited to the tourist. I stay my ground before heading for a swim ripping my shorts in the surf.
Moved to the beach for Christmas and the sands of Varkalla to join the rest of the fisherman pant wearing, banana pancake munching yoga obsessed Christmas crowd. Christmas day on the beach witnessed apartheid back in fashion with a big rope splitting the beach in half guarded by a few policemen stopping the Indian crowds from mixing with the Europeans. Enraged at this I carry the beach towel to the native side of the rope hoping to encourage the pulling down of these racist barriers that divide nations and minds. My high mindedness creates a stir as I am surrounded by the Indian crowds puzzled by my revolutionary actions, they happily point to the other side of the rope as a bit of sand more suited to the tourist. I stay my ground before heading for a swim ripping my shorts in the surf.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Bottom Brackets And The Forces of Evil.
I have moved back to the spiritual home of mountain biking in Kerala the XXX Hotel in K#$@!! a 130km and 4 hour drive away from Munnar unless the drive shaft falls off half way and needs 9 men to fasten it back together again.
Here things seem to be in the balance as well as my hotel appears to changed ownership in recent days. My friend and hotelier Mr %$#!* has been usurped by his business partner the evil Mr S%#@$ who apparently has a string of convictions going back years and across seas including a spell in Saudi Arabia's worst prison for making illicit alchohol.
Staff at the XXX Hotel are also suffering, with a a watchfull eye kept over all the workers. Things look intolerable with things coming to head at morning coffee time. The usual charade of black coffee arriving in the form of milk tea, sugar added indiscriminately where non was asked for, orders being forgotten or arriving unprompted has been replaced by a chilling efficiency. However, thankfully, this morning a pot of indeterminable tea/coffee arrived suggesting, perhaps, all is not lost.
Anyhow according to my sources Mr %$#!# the XXX Hotel has fallen into the forces of darkness and I am being requested to look for alternative lodgings. On a positive note prices have dropped and I might have to live with the evil and efficiency for a while.
On a biking note three bottom brackets have been discovered to be worn out at all the same time. Is there something to be read into this ??? Or am I neglecting my cycle maintenance ???
** Names and places have been altered to protect myself.
Here things seem to be in the balance as well as my hotel appears to changed ownership in recent days. My friend and hotelier Mr %$#!* has been usurped by his business partner the evil Mr S%#@$ who apparently has a string of convictions going back years and across seas including a spell in Saudi Arabia's worst prison for making illicit alchohol.
Staff at the XXX Hotel are also suffering, with a a watchfull eye kept over all the workers. Things look intolerable with things coming to head at morning coffee time. The usual charade of black coffee arriving in the form of milk tea, sugar added indiscriminately where non was asked for, orders being forgotten or arriving unprompted has been replaced by a chilling efficiency. However, thankfully, this morning a pot of indeterminable tea/coffee arrived suggesting, perhaps, all is not lost.
Anyhow according to my sources Mr %$#!# the XXX Hotel has fallen into the forces of darkness and I am being requested to look for alternative lodgings. On a positive note prices have dropped and I might have to live with the evil and efficiency for a while.
On a biking note three bottom brackets have been discovered to be worn out at all the same time. Is there something to be read into this ??? Or am I neglecting my cycle maintenance ???
** Names and places have been altered to protect myself.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Bed Tea For The Russians
The half demolished hotel has been busy recently. It started 2 nights ago when I was informed that a group of English tourists where coming to stay for two nights and as they were paying more than me I was to be shifted into the decaying dormitory from my purported "deluxe luxury room". The group arrived at almost midnight and I was awoken to greet the English mob from the bus on their arrival. I objected but the pleading worked and I pottered out into the cold evening air to witness a group of bikini topped and mini skirted blond lasses accompanied by hard looking goatee bearded man. The Russians had arrived. They requested food I told them there was non. They asked for Coffee the manager informed them "only bed tea available".
Two days of bed tea for the Russians then another group arrived. I was informed that all rooms were full and I could sleep in the office. The group arrived; 65 medical students from Nagpur along with an entourage of tour guides teachers and cooks all to be squeezed into half a hotel with only 9 double rooms and a dorm for 6 The teachers objected to the arrangements which meant they would share a room with the cooks; who in turn objected to then being foced to share with the tour guides. As such my room was seized by the militant teachers and I was to be shifted again this time to the staff quarters with the unlucky mans bed being the cleaner who had to kip in the corridor.
Two days of bed tea for the Russians then another group arrived. I was informed that all rooms were full and I could sleep in the office. The group arrived; 65 medical students from Nagpur along with an entourage of tour guides teachers and cooks all to be squeezed into half a hotel with only 9 double rooms and a dorm for 6 The teachers objected to the arrangements which meant they would share a room with the cooks; who in turn objected to then being foced to share with the tour guides. As such my room was seized by the militant teachers and I was to be shifted again this time to the staff quarters with the unlucky mans bed being the cleaner who had to kip in the corridor.
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