The first thing that strikes you about Kerala is that it’s impossibly green.It’s greener than an algae-covered frog drinking spinach juice, for the record. The second is that it just isn’t fair. I mean, how is it possible for such a small state to be packed with so much natural beauty? Line up, say, Tamil Nadu next to it (with due apologies to my home state) and it isn’t much of a contest. I can think of a couple of other states as well, but they’re best left unmentioned – I don’t want to rile more people than is strictly necessary. Anyway, the unfairness of it all was brought home to me in no uncertain manner as I drove from Kochi to the hills of Wayanad. Even on the narrow roads on which I was playing dodgem cars with unruly traffic, there was so much prettiness everywhere – in the neat houses, in the rows of coconut palms, in the backwaters winding their way mysteriously into the horizon – that it really wasn’t possible to feel annoyed in any way. On top of all this, I was kept thoroughly entertained by another of Kerala’s specialties – eye-catching advertising billboards. These seem to consist exclusively of three categories – chappals, jewellery and various building materials. The chappal ads have what appear to be local celebrities, sitting expansively in ornate chairs with their feet in strategically visible positions, looking pleased as punch. The jewellery billboards are arresting too, featuring as they do some extremely beautiful women. I’d be willing to bet a large sum that several male drivers have come into sudden and intimate contact with immovable objects while distracted by these numbers. My personal favourite, however, and one that nearly caused me to leave the road, was of a heavily muscled (and mustachioed) wrestler-type, trying unsuccessfully to tear apart some roofing material with his bare hands. He looked in serious danger of busting numerous blood vessels, not to mention having an involuntary bowel movement, so I hoped he had been well paid for his efforts.
With completely random and disparate thoughts such as these running through my head, I drove my merry and occasionally hair-raising way to Wayanad – Vythiri, to be exact. On the way, I motored along some of the best driving roads I have encountered (save for the all-round vehicular lunacy) and by the time I arrived in Vythiri, I was in that slightly peculiar state where you’re exhilarated from a great drive and simultaneously edgy from avoiding being melded with a succession of state transport buses. I felt like I could use a bit of a rest, in short – and from what I could see, I had come to the right place for this purpose.
Now, it isn’t often that a hotel becomes a destination by itself, but by golly the Vythiri Resort was something else. The sign on the road just outside Vythiri town pointed rather vaguely in the direction of a hill, and as I aimed the Verna in its general direction, I realised that I was setting off on what was little more than a jungle path in a car somewhat unsuited to such terrain. Nevertheless, after about 4 km of painstaking progress through the forest, I finally reached the resort’s gate – and from there on in, the world was a very agreeable place indeed.
How many resorts can you think of that has its own jungle stream (where it’s possible to spot animals) and a nifty suspension bridge over said stream? Even if you can, this was certainly a first for me. That bridge alone was an endless source of entertainment. When walked over at a brisk pace, it would start to bounce and sway at the same time, causing much consternation to other users – it was a bit like being on a communal trampoline. There was also a superb swimming pool, which I seemed to be the sole user of, and a truly top-notch restaurant serving the most delectable Kerala cuisine. When I wasn’t busy stuffing my face, soaking in water or annoying bridge users, there was time to relax in my tribal-style cottage, take mini-treks through the property’s sprawling grounds and play endless rounds of pool in the game room.I tell you, I had half a mind to not set foot outside the resort for the duration of my stay, and most sensible people are likely to feel the same way. However, there was a car sulking in the parking lot, more roads to hurtle down and a heck of a lot more greenery to be explored, so out I went.
Most readers will know by now that I have a thing for antiquity – old houses, cars, bikes, museums in general and suchlike. Hence it should come as no surprise that my first port of call was the Edakkal caves, some 5000 year-old rock shelters about a half hour’s drive from Vythiri. I had found the similar caves in Bhimbetka, in Madhya Pradesh, absolutely fascinating and these were no different. Mind you, getting to the caves was no walk in the park – a near-vertical 1 km climb meant that by the time I got to the entrance, I was fit (or unfit, rather) to keel over. Still, several middle-aged, sari-clad maamis who had climbed with me looked none the worse for wear, so I couldn’t very well show it. Discovered in the late 1800s by a British superintendent of police, the caves, according to legend, are the by-products of Luv and Kush firing arrows into the earth. Their daddy,Rama, is also said to have despatched Surpanakha, Ravan’s sister, inside the cave. Whatever he did, he certainly cleaned up the evidence. The engravings in the upper deck of the cave were, as I expected, superb and suddenly the tortuous climb was forgotten – I immersed myself in the prehistoric visual records, to say nothing of the stunning view over the countryside, and left the place thoroughly satisfied.To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what to do or where to go next. I had no guidebook or map, and in any case the whole place looked so beautiful that making exact decisions seemed to be a pointless exercise. So I did the next best thing and simply drove around, trying to get a feel of Wayanad. With the benefit of hindsight, this is probably the best way to explore the district. For example, I was driving past some picture-postcard tea estates, complete with smiling women picking tea leaves, when on an impulse I took an un-signposted right turn. I had no idea where it led to, which made it all the more interesting. Although a very nice drive, it really didn’t seem to be leading to anywhere until I turned a corner and came upon a strikingly pretty dam. I was reliably informed by the locals that it (the Banasura dam) was the largest earthen dam in the country. See, you discover something new every day – even though, strictly speaking, this sort of information is unlikely to serve any purpose in the course of your lifetime.
In a similar vein, as I was driving through Sultan Bathery, a nondescript little hill town, I caught sight of the familiar blue Archaeological Survey of India board. Upon closer inspection, it was the ‘X’ marking the spot for a lovely Jain temple. Apparently Tipu Sultan once used it as a battery for armaments, the irony of which could not have been lost on a keen fellow like him. It also explains the town’s name, which has somehow evolved from ‘battery’ into a sort of royal washroom. After wandering around the temple and chatting with the caretaker, who was a goldmine of information, I went off and had a slap-up paratha and beef fry lunch, which is commonly regarded as among the best lunches in the world.
Back at the cosseting environs of the resort, I followed up a refreshing swim with a walk through the woods, as it were. The going wasn’t easy, there being no path,but it was an exhilarating few hours nonetheless; a primeval experience, even. I hadn’t done this sort of thing in a while, and it felt good. I walked clear across a couple of hills and some tea plantations in between, finally ending up on a rise with a great view. Again, I palpably felt the unfairness of a place being so incredibly beautiful, but then I remembered something – I was, after all, in God’s own country.
Travel log:
Wayanad is probably among the most beautiful districts in the entire country, leave alone Kerala. You could do a lot worse than to spend a few idyllic days here, and you would never be short of things to do. The serious-trekking sort might want to have a go at Chembra Peak, the highest peak in the district. The climb to the top takes the best part of a day and it’s possible to spend the night there. You could also go to Pakshipathalam, a 17 km trek through thick forest to a series of caves that are home to birds and animals alike. Special permission has to be obtained from the forest department for this particular trek. The Meenmutty falls, tumbling down almost half a kilometre in three stages, are a real sight and worth a look. Kuruva Dweep, a series of river islands 45 km from Sultan Bathery, is another great spot, with many species of birds and orchids to be seen. Less strenuous activities include boating in Pookot Lake and leisurely walks through tea plantations.
You really needn’t look further than Vythiri Resort when in Wayanad (www.vythiriresort.com, Rs 3,500 onwards). It’s not the cheapest option around, but it’s worth the money they charge you. Haritagiri Hotel (www.hotelharitagiri.com, Rs 900 onwards) is a good budget option.
MOTOR LOG
Hyundai Verna CRDi
Total distance covered: 385 km
Kpl: 18
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