Discovery- Wild walkers near Ooty

Tucked away in the folds of the Ooty mountains, a small cottage lies in the middle of a plot of farm land. The approach road to the cottage itself isn't in best shape, and it is necessary to leave your car half way and use a jeep to cross the final stretch of road. One needs to turn off the Mudumalai-Ooty road, drive across the hill slopes, past a few villages until one essentially reaches the end of the road - thats where you park, and meet caretaker Nanjun, who will take you to the cottage itself. One needs to first walk a little stretch and then climb into a jeep for a rough ride to the cottage.

After driving through Bandipur and Mudumalai, the road to Wild Walkers starts to make you wonder whether there has been some mistake in selecting the destination. There are several villages along the way, each with concrete houses more colourful and kitschy than the other. Yes, the mountain air is delicious, but you do wonder if the cottage is going to give you the privacy, peace and isolation that you have been expecting. The walk from your car to the jeep takes you by surprise, because one is not normally packed in a manner to quickly pick up bags and begin a mini hike. Even my shoes were still packed away, so I had to lug my baggage across in slippers, along with the little bags of food and other utilities we had picked up along the way. Once you reach the jeep, things start looking up, for you drive through a small tea plantation interspersed with scrub jungle, and finally you can see the trees parting ahead , which is where Wild Walkers cottage is located. The immediate area around Wild Walkers is an extension of the reserve forest, and gaurs, elephants and even bears have been spotted here rather frequently. This means that access to the cottage normally requires the caretaker to escort you, and you cannot really head out on foot on your own.

The cottage itself is a 3 bed room cottage, with each room having a separate access of its own. The common areas are all open to nature, so whether you are sitting at the dining table for a meal, or getting warm next to the fireplace, you are always exposed to the outdoors. The cottage is powered by solar power, so you can only keep 2 bulbs on at a time, and charging points for phones, cameras, tablets and every other gadget you are carrying with you need to be used sparingly. Phone are a little redundant, for there isn't enough cell phone network coverage. I would recommend putting your phone off or into flight mode, so that you can still use it to take pictures, but not drain the battery looking for network continuously.

The food is vegetarian and local, but delicious and fresh. The flavours were comforting, and there was an unlimited flow of food, tea and evening pakodas the whole time we were there. Not having electricity also means there is no water heater, so you need to tell Nanjun when you'd like to get a bucket of hot water delivered to your room.

The cottage doesn't really give you much to do either - with limited electricity, lack of network, no facility for games or music, one can be rather bored spending too much time here. But then again, this was exactly what I was looking for. All the things that I have mentioned so far may be slightly putting off for most travellers - which is why I have spoken of all this up front. If you are still reading this article, then this is when you begin to discover all the reasons why I loved this destination.

To begin with, the cottage is done up and maintained beautifully. Each room is spacious, with a view of the outdoors; bathrooms are modern and well maintained; beds are comfortable and the room is filled with curios, antique pieces and little details that reflect the taste and the attention to detail that has gone into putting the place together. Not having electricity was no trouble at all - in fact we barely even used the lights that we could, and spent our evenings by candlelight. The solar lights were used sparingly, only to use the bathroom or while we ate - and we didn't really need it beyond that. The views from the cottage are spectacular - on one side you have high mountains, in front you can see smaller hill slopes covers with jungle patches, and beyond is the valley that has the Mudumalai wildlife sanctuary. Considering the amount of land we could see from where we were perched, it was delightful to also notice that in all these spaces, we could see no signs of other habitation, no other human being, no electric pole, not even a single light bulb or torch!

We could spend days hanging out on the verandahs, gazing at the view, looking at the clouds roll in and out, and watch Nanjun maintain the farm and keep the birds away from his crop. But that isn't all that we did, within an hour of reaching the cottage, we went for a little walk with Nanjun, to a lake and then to a view point, where the view only got better compared to what we could see from the cottage. Along the way we saw some gaurs on the slopes nearby, and even crossed some bear scat, which told us that the bear sightings in the region was indeed true. The next day we went for a beautiful hike up the mountain and spent some time at the peak, soaking in the air, gazing at the view, jumping in the rain and taking innumerable pictures. Words do not do justice to the place, its location, and the experience of doing those hikes in complete isolation, tucked away from the maddening traffic, crowd and construction that is Ooty.

For wildlife lovers and birders, Wild Walkers will surprise you. A pair of resident black eagles make regular rounds of the cottage, and you can watch it soar and circle and hunt and perch. Gaurs and barking deer are a regular feature from the cottage itself, it feels like you belong to the landscape for they graze and walk around without being affected by your presence. We were also lucky to have a bear digging around for termites very close to the property, and even spotted a wild cat (leopard cat) in broad daylight while we were enjoying a cup of tea. Once you realise the potential there is for a sighting right from the cottage itself, you spend the whole time keeping watch with a pair of handy binoculars.

If you are a nature lover and would give all that you've got for a few days in solitude, away from the rush and bustle of the city, then Wild Walkers is the place for you. I do not exaggerate when I say that it is remote and cut off, and that there really isn't much to do other than to enjoy the outdoors, but if this excites you, be sure to plan a trip and do not forget to take your binoculars along.

Back in the country

It has been a long since I even tried writing a new post for this blog. Living in Germany and lack of contact with my favourite landscapes left me blank in the head, and I couldn't think of a good topic to write about.

I haven't really made many trips to the wild after my return. I was first trying to get back into a normal routine of work and setting up home. That was barely in place, when I was shuttling between Bangalore and Pune, preparing for a Bharatnatyam stage event Smarati Mano Mamah, in memory of my classical dance teacher. The event was a grand success, and the charity Prerana received a considerable sum of Rs 10 lakh (100,000) as donation as a result of the event.

Post the event I slowly was able to make little visits to the most exciting places in the world, and I also treated myself to a visit to Ranthambore in Rajasthan, which I loved. Yes it was a tourist hub, with jeeps bumping into each other and honking in the presence of a tiger, just so all the guests in every jeep would catch a glimpse of the royal animal. However, I loved the landscape, I loved the blend of jungle with historic ruins - the whole feeling of being in that jungle was simply magical. A stop over on the way back in Jaipur only added to the fun, and I returned to Bangalore with a suitcase full of fabulous stuff that I bought in Jaipur.

Keeping a blog active about the forest isn't easy - not that that there aren't things to write about. Perhaps there are too many thoughts, that it gets difficult to find the right flow and bring it all together. In the meantime, though, I read a beautiful story written by Leela Broome (Mrs B) - "Flute in the Forest". The story took me back to why I got addicted to nature and wildlife in the first place. Mrs B's Nature Trails, held in their farm in Pune, was a magical camp exposing kids to the right attitude to nature. After attending two of her camps as a 12-year-old, the campus of NCL colony transformed from a big playground with plenty of space to run around, to a fantastic ecosystem with with all kinds of birds, insects and snakes around. If only one would take the time to notice.

I learnt to recognise a few snakes (the common venomous ones and a few others that one could see easily) and most birds that I'd see around our home. Holidays and weekends meant an early morning game of basketball, followed by a few hours of sitting around the front porch or backyard, bird book in hand, observing all the birds of the area go about their day. The Drongo chicks on the Neem tree learnt to fly as I was watching them. The Babul tree outside the front gate had several nests of plum headed parakeets, and they'd keep flying back to the tree to feed their chicks, screeching away to announce their presence. A silly Bulbul decided to nest and lay its eggs precariously on the top of a cupboard door, those eggs were doomed, and hopefully the Bulbul learnt a lesson after that. The rat snake from the trench nearby was a regular visitor to the house, knocking on the glass panes of the front door, in case the door wasn't open. I spent an entire afternoon watching a game of hide and seek between the rat snake and a bunch of squirrels on the Neem tree right outside the kitchen window.

I noticed how the Purple Sunbird changed its plumage through the year, and when the heads of the Cattle Egret changed colour. Golden Orioles frequented the Jamun tree, and I got a nice picture from my point-and-shoot camera one day, when I woke up and found the Golden Oriole right outside the bedroom window. Locating the Coppersmith from its call was always confusing, since it first seems to be coming from all directions - but I picked up the skill quickly enough and could easily find the bird high up in the branches of the Gulmohar tree. I loved silk cotton season - cotton flew all over the place every time there was a breeze, this was the closest we had to snowfall, so we'd run to stand under the cotton tree as the wind blew. The Spotted Owlets were permanently perched on a tree at the far end of the garden. They would get a bit jittery when there was a lot of human movement, but I often crept up to about 20 meters away, walking very slowly, and then would squat on the ground facing them. Once I had settled down, they'd be there forever, both pairs of eyes carefully watching to see if I was planning to move anytime soon.

Once in a while, we spent the weekend trekking in the hills around the city. I'd be really upset if there was a trek I couldn't participate in, and would wait anxiously for the trekkers to return. I'd be eager to know what they had seen, and was most excited to find out that they had spotted a Shieldtail, or Vultures around a buffalo carcass. On hearing this, I was often disappointed that I missed out on a special sighting.

The fast paced, high pressure trend of modern wildlife tourism has diluted the real joy of being in nature. You could meet hundreds of regular wildlife tourists today, and by regular I mean at least 4 trips to a jungle every year, and still not find a single person who could identify a serpent eagle. In most probability, 50% of these tourists would carelessly toss a plastic bag into the forest, once they are done with the chips inside it. Perhaps 70% of these would feed the monkeys on the roadside. All smokers would light up their cigarette while in the forest, in spite of the highly publicised news articles about raging forest fires all over South India.

Conversations at the end of a safari are predictable. In fact, one could create a little questionnaire for wildlife tourists and save the trouble of introductions:
1. What did you see in the safari?
a) Tiger
b) Nothing (terrible luck)

(Answer this question only if the answer to 1 was a)
2. How many?
a) One (normal luck)
b) Two-Four (good luck)
c) More than four (excellent luck)

Today's well educated, high salaried, SLR wielding wildlife tourist has encouraged very irresponsible tourism all over the country. This results in naturalists who think avian species are a waste of time, drivers who honk and shout in the middle of the forest, forest guards who'd accept a couple of green notes in return for a drive through the jungle in the night and resort operators who'd like to convert the waterhole into a boating attraction.

I got rid of my SLR and picked up a little pocket camera, for I had no wish to be associated any longer with the wildlife photographer that seems to infest every pocket of forest space. I make a trip to the forest with a bird book in one hand and my lovely German binoculars in the other. Every visit leaves me content thanks to the crystal clear sighting I've had of a Flameback making its way up a tree trunk, or a Sambhar cautiously approaching a waterhole, taking every precaution to make sure there was no predator waiting to pounce on it. Every movement, every behaviour pattern leaves me filled with the ways of the jungle, and I consider myself lucky that I have learnt how to observe and enjoy this.

What got Billy's goat?

Billy Arjan Singh died a few days ago. A man I didn’t know, but always wanted to meet – which is why I regret that I now never can. I no longer am much of a reader, and of the little that I do read, wildlife is a popular subject. Mr. Singh’s stories with Prince and Tara and the rest of the mixed herd always keep me wishing that I could catch a glimpse of that life, if not live it myself.

I am now travelling abroad, doing a long stint on work, and have been contemplating writing a blog – I thought it would keep me busy, and possibly capture some of the experiences I may have. However, with my heart in the Indian jungles, I find it apt that I begin with my first blog now.

Recent visits to some of the jungles of South India leave me angry and upset. Most of the tourists one encounters are rowdy, noisy and boisterous groups, trying to prove to each other that each of them is most capable of scaring the mightiest of animals away. And the small minority of well behaved, civilized tourists is far too well behaved to sit up and take notice, they mind their own business and walk on, possibly muttering that India’s wildlife is in shambles. The forest department is no better either, barring perhaps a very small handful.

The shy langurs have dangerously ventured on to the roads because they are used to receiving food from tourist vehicles

Forest officers who drive their jeeps through the forests at top speed and top volume, are flattered by hordes of “wildlife photographers” who pacify them to get special permissions to enter restricted areas. What else will they do – the common areas are full of ill-mannered humans who cannot leave the forests to themselves, and it’s impossible to rightfully enjoy nature without the noise and commotion caused by the numerous tourists visiting the area. Of course, it is also a matter of pride that they get a rare frame, which could only be rare if they have exclusive access. Expensive lenses and digital technology does the rest, and the skill required to get a good picture takes a backseat.

A home of a government employed forest officer would leave the most imaginative minds astonished. Ornately decorated in teak, rosewood and marble, it is clear that the recent postings have been rather lucrative for the ranger, as well as his mother, wife, aunt and so on – these are typically the names used to register expensive real estate. The job is easy, and the perks include throwing your weight around. Rules are always rules, unless you are closely associated with someone in the department, in which case you find yourself at the end of a long line of vehicles entering the core restricted areas of the forest to catch a glimpse of rarer wildlife. If these favours were granted keeping in mind the behaviour of the group in the jungle, it could be forgiven as there is no other way these people can enjoy the serenity of the forest the way it is meant to be. However, more often than not, most of the special access is available to a group of brightly dressed, screaming, honking dimwits usually related to the local politician in power.

Typical scene of hassling an elephant tempting it to charge to get a few shrieks and thrills from the passengers

Despite well-illustrated instructions, neither the educated tourist nor the forest department pays any attention

The stories from central India are no different, and I often hear that a tiger sighting is accompanied with 30-40 jeeps packed with excitable tourists and guides who live by the motto that “customer is king”. The animals seem dangerously complacent about the presence of humans nearby, and this could certainly not be a good sign.

A vehicle reversing into a spotted deer - what can I say?

While tourism is definitely a good thing, there should be laws to keep in check irresponsible tourism. And the people who care should speak out – as they are the last hope.

An educated conscientious person would understandably stay out of the government. It would be very difficult to fight the corruption alone, and if he did, he would definitely be transferred as fast as possible. On the other hand, why would an educated person want to choose to work in a place where he is bound to earn less money, unless he treads the trodden path like all the others around him? That would only be possible if he is backed by a rich family, and the lucky few who are blessed with this have other things to do it seems.

Like a good friend often says, the jungles were left alone much more when the brigand Veerappan was around. Perhaps the jungles need another brigand today, one that takes it upon himself to take to task all the corrupt politicians, irresponsible travel operators and noisy tourists. A revolution is necessary, much the same way Billy Arjan Singh once stood up to all the officials who came his way.