Marayoor to Coonoor.... Delhi Belly Strikes!!

Well since our last entry, we’ve experienced the best and worst Tamil Nadu has to offer from acts of kindness to the dreaded Delhi Belly! We’d planned on trying to put in a big effort to head towards the Nilgiri Mountains, where Kat’s Dad visited as an innocent 17 year old a fair while back (apparently later returning home to his parents house in Worcestershire with no shoes, long hair and a new love of mountains!)

The descent from Marayoor out of the Misty Mountains towards Udulamapet was an unforgettable 42km of twisting hairpins bends through dense forest, golden in the morning sunlight with colours to rival an autumn back home. Once we reached the lower plains we entered the Mudumalai Wildlife Reserve which is part of an unbroken chain of protected habitat through Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Karnataka. We happily cycled passed the warden’s barrier and no one seemed particularly concerned that we were entering a tiger reserve on our bicycles! It didn’t stop you from peering into the dense roadside vegetation at every rustle, especially when signs implored all motorists to remain inside their vehicles! The heat ramped up as the earth reddened at the side of the road. As we cycled alongside a rocky outcrop rising from the jungle, a huge bird flew overhead and then we heard the unmistakable trumpet of a distant wild elephant. It really put the hairs up on the back of your neck and made the legs spin a bit faster! We were probably quite lucky to only hear their call as we later found out another foreign cyclist was squashed a few years ago in a different reserve by a bumbling elephant! The sound was so evocative though and we were the only people to hear it. 

Back on the hot windy plains we’d hoped to get 100km under our belt to get closer to the cool of the mountains again and everything was going smoothly until the inevitable puncture with 25km to go in the baking midday sun. So much for the indestructible Schwalbe tyres I’d constantly been banging on about, Kat thought! We found some shade and began the laborious, sweaty process of emptying panniers and searching for the culprit thorn. As it turned out, the tyres reputation remained intact for now. The bloody rim tape had slipped and punctured a hole on the inside of the inner tube. Unfortunately, now we’d attracted the attention of passing motorbikes and rickshaws. One pissed idiot would not leave us alone as much as we pleaded for some quiet while we mended the bikes and made sure we’d not left anything littering the floor. It was the first hassle we’d experience and came when we were all hot and flustered.

We eventually set off but made slow progress in the heat. We sought the first shade and a place to refill our water. Out of nowhere two cool packets of thirst quenching mango juice were put in our hands as a passing motorcyclist stopped and deposited this beautiful gift before we had time to thank him! It tasted like heaven! A few kilometers down the road another kind stranger bought us a bottle of cold water (we must have looked a little sun kissed and parched!) before, finally, a friendly bank manager negotiated our stay in that nights hotel. Such is a day in India!

We found ourselves right in the middle of a never ending Indian holiday. Everything has been covered in garlands of sweet smelling flowers, tinsel and turmeric. Almost all windscreens are completely obscured with wilting banana leaves which makes cycling more exciting! Apparently it’s a festival celebrating the nine forms of Shiva’s wife but it’s all a bit confusing especially when your progress is delayed by a march of 5000 women carrying milk on their heads!?

We reached Mettupalayam after another 100km day this time with a near perfect tail wind. From there, we were undecided as to whether to cycle the climb to Ooty or take the UNESCO Toy Train, remnant of the British Colonial Era. The Madras government would escape the heat to ‘Snooty’ Ooty during the summer months. Unfortunately, rumbles turned in to something all the more serious and I (Ed) couldn’t leave the proximity of the loo! So ensued a lay day, and plans of a summit attempt were put on hold. 24 hours, 1000mg of Ciprofloxacin, 3mg Buccastem and 1g of Paracetamol later we dragged ourselves out of bed at 0300 to get to the station to queue for unreserved tickets for the Toy Train.

The process was made beautifully laborious as only Indians can. First the queue for 3 hours in an already busy station (19^th cleanest in India!) unsure as to whether you’d make it onto the train; then a glorious scrap of paper indicating the number of people in your party who’d now made it into the carriage; then confined to the train, while sat in an overflowing carriage, one member was allowed to then leave the station to the ticket office the other side of the road to purchase your ticket before being told by the Post Master that it wasn’t possible to put your bikes on!! Ridiculous in its complexity and because we knew he was lying! He claimed an hour in advance was not enough notice although his much friendlier colleague the night before had told us otherwise! Then came the inevitable paper work, documentation of passport numbers, bike serial numbers and an argument about the colour of Kat’s bike (I’d said green at which he protested – I then changed my documentation to state Olive Green (you bastard) to which he had no reply!) Finally, chai in hand, bikes safely on (they were the only two bikes!) we sat down shattered but happy to be on board. The whole process was made much more bearable by the two Indian friends from Madyra Pradesh we made in queue with whom we covered Brexit, the NHS and evil private health insurance all before 0500 over a coffee!

The train trundled off, puffing with steam as we watched the world go by. We made it to Coonoor, a town below Ooty, where we planned on spending a couple of nights. Unfortunately, Kat was now taken ill and took to bed. Living in close quarters is obviously a risky business! We think we’re slowly recovering and are planning on cycling the 16km and 500m of ascent to Ooty tomorrow slowly. Luckily we’re staying in a beautiful 150 year old creaky colonial house lording over the town below. It’s a perfect retreat to recover!

More soon…

Loads of love

Ed and Kat xxxx

P.s Thanks for Birthday wishes from both of us! x