Munnar: Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye

M U N N A R!

For the first time ever, I did not want to return home after a holiday. Leaving Munnar was like one of those look-your-last-on-all-things-lovely times that left knots in my heart.

Day 1 – Astounded by the awesomeness

It rained off and on as the road from Kochi to Munnar wound through lush forests, pristine hills and sudden waterfalls taking you to a height of 1600 meters ASL. The air was squeaky clean.

By 3 in the afternoon, misty wisps could be seen floating into the valley below trying to find place to nestle between the folds of hills.

Adimali: At 4, the furthest and the tallest hills were filled with darkness and the clouds stood sharply in contrast, blurring their edges.

The resort was 20 km away (higher) from Munnar town. The view all around was breathtaking.



Slowly the clouds obscured everything from sight. By 9 it seemed too late for bed zzzzzzz.

Day 2 – Tourist times

Woke up to bird song and rising sun and a beautiful morn.

Muttupetti Dam: 13 km from Munnar town, Muttupetti and further up Kundala dam are a height of 1700 meters ASL. It was a typical tourist spot - crowded and we quickly started for Top Station.

Top Station: From 1908 till 1924, tea produced in Munnar was transported to Top Station by a 24 inch railway line and transshipped from there by ropeway to Kotagudi (Bottom Station) and subsequently to Bodinayakanur for shipment across the World. The Top Station to Kotagudi ropeway which was in service from 1900 till 1969 is no longer functional.(Wiki)

En route top-station

Top-station-happy!

Undulating hills everywhere one looked.

Mr Tata we were here!

Waterfalls along the route

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

Day 3 – Sunny, walky day

Too much of a good thing, is a good thing. So we went to look at more Tea estates. Suryanelle Estate is a picture book…estate (!)

Two roads diverged in a ...

We took the one we fancied more.

Coming back, stopped at a stream to dip our tired feet into its cold waters WHOA!

Curious onlookers from the road who at a wave of hand came running down to shake our hands.

Next was a nice long jungle walk. We went down this forest path that leads to Aneryangal dam (at Chinnakanal) while the cabbie grew jittery waiting for us as wild elephants are believed to walk that route several times a day. There was not a soul here. Only jungle sounds - of vegetation and creatures - a constant hum, a sort of collective croak perhaps.

Afternoon was spent in blissful idleness – barefoot walking and lying on the grass, making cloud stories.

The clouds descended once again to close the day, our last in mesmerising Munnar.

… knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

F A C T S

> Munnar, East Kerala

> 140 km from Cochin/Kochi/Ernakulam

>1600 meters ASL

> Tea plantations started by the British in 1870s who developed it into a summer resort.

>Best time to visit October to March according to tourist brochures/websites – I thought it was now – with the rains just starting – rainy misty afternoons and sunbright mornings.

>Home of the Neelakurinji, the flower of the blue mountains, which blossoms once in 12 years (Y 2014 next). The Neelgiris, or the Blue Mountains got the name from this flower that covers the hills in blue.

>Souvenir shopping - tea, spices, wooden handicrafts - kathakali masks, jewelry, carved boxes n trays, Kerala sarees.

A Church and a River

Just off the busy highway, where the quaint little village stretches tentatively into the backwaters of the river Hemvati, lies a treasure for the discerning traveler. The humdrum of Shettyhalli, (Hassan, Karnataka) seems deliberate. An effort to protect the exquisite slice of history it withholds.



Nothing prepares you for it. As you drive down a lonely, long winding road through the tall grass that conceals everything except the clear sky, you may want to give up. It wasn’t blossom time otherwise this entire countryside is flushed in the golden profusion of sunflowers. A short walk down a dust track and you reach a clearing.




It’s a picturesque sight - an old church, half submerged the water.








The Holy Rosary church is believed to have been built by the French missionaries in 1860. For six months in a year it gets submerged in the river Hemvati and remains above it for the rest of the year.




The best time to go there is before sunset – 5- 5.30ish. A coracle took us up to the church and around it. The indigenous basket that sat five people wobbled if we so much as took a deep breath or spoke but the experience could not be relinquished for the fear of toppling over.


As the shadows lengthened, we turned away eager to find safety, to stand on stable ground again.

The church became a silhouette at the horizon, a placid river singing inside its walls – stuff dreams are made of.