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Published: March 13th 2008
Vertical limits
At 1868 feet, Agasthyarkoodam is the second highest peak in Kerala, “I was full of gratitude,” I tried to recount my experience two days after we returned from Agasthyarkoodam. Our thighs, calves and soles were still stiff, but our minds wandering over the breezy mountain. “We should have spent more time on the summit. It was an energy field,” said Nazeeb. “I felt like flying in the hard cold wind. My mind was weightless,” said Sunil. The three of us made a pact to go there every year.
We wouldn’t even think of it 24 hours ago, when an imaginary elephant waited at every bend in the dark road and an imaginary snake slithered beneath every step we took. I was the last in the frightened convoy, flashing the torch and remembering Jim Corbett tales, where the leopard always targeted the trailing one. Every muscle ached after two days of trekking, but we couldn’t afford to rest in the dark woods.
Excited by the risky conquest of the Agasthya Mountain and eager to avoid one more night in the ramshackle base camp, we had overrated our pace. The path we trod the previous morning seemed unfamiliar as night descended on us. We thought we had lost our way in the
Virgin spring
Streams inside Agasthyavanam biological park sustain the plains on either side of the Western Ghats. jungle. Still it took us only less than five hours to cover the distance we covered in six leisurely hours the previous day.
Rewind.
Sunil and Venugopal were waiting for us near an abandoned tea estate at Bonacaud as we stretched our legs after a two-hour car journey from Thiruvananthapuram. We ate at the canteen near the bridge over an alluring stream. The car would go up to the entrance of the 23-square kilometre Agasthyavanam Biological Park, where forest officials would check our passes and the canteen boys would pack our meals.
At 9 am, the eight-man team set out to conquer the 1868 metre-high Agasthyarkoodam, the second highest mountain in Kerala. (The highest -- the 2695 metre-high Anamudi inside Eravikulam National Park in Idukki district -- is also the high point in the Western Ghats.) All of us were probing Venugopal, nicknamed guruswamy (the veteran pilgrim) a la Sabarimala. It’s his second tryst with the mountain. Agasthyarkoodam is a pilgrim centre too, developed around the myth of Agasthya the healer-sage.
We cross at least a dozen streams, half of them a summer trickle. Preceding pilgrims rest on the rocks. The streams invite us to frame-hunt
Inside Nature
The windswept hills hide natural treasures from the vagaries of civilization. and cool off, but we go on. Trying to gain distance from the noisy group of reveller-pilgrims, we realize that our group itself is a crowd. It is not advisable to walk alone in a jungle, but there is no point in going in a group. Wilderness is a trip best enjoyed in solitude.
Past mating beetles and marching ants, we enter an altogether different landscape. In this park, landscapes change as if in a movie. The path cuts through a steep grassland marked with big trees murmuring in the wind. There is elephant dung, almost fresh. The pungent smell of the beast persists. It may be watching us, the intruders. On either side, we can see for metres in the absence of thick undergrowth.
The scene changes as we descend to a valley, where a stream falls over mighty rocks. We resist the temptation to dive into it. The Attayar (River of Leeches) beckons us and then cascades into the plains. The southern range of the Western Ghats is source to many lifelines like the Karamana River that flows west through Thiruvananthapuram district in Kerala and the Tamraparni that flows east nurturing Thirunelveli district in Tamil Nadu.
An evening to remember
After a day of hard trek, before a day of even harder trek. Base camp on Athiurmala. Next hill, next scene. The lemon grass-covered hill stands out amid a ring of dark green hills. We lost our lead over the pilgrims on this hill. Lost in the intoxicating wind, I closed my eyes and waited for the sonic wave to engulf me. The resuscitating breath of Nature. There is nothing in this world worth exchanging for an hour in this green lung. High on green grass. Déjà vu.
The group has split into four or five. Venugopal, Sunil and I finally have the sense to pluck ourselves from the windy mountain. We collect the five photographers on our way. Nazeeb and Shaji have injured their knees. Srikanth and Sachin have gone astray. Gigo spurs the trailing gang to movement. We don’t have anymore pilgrims to overtake us, it seems. We eat our meals sitting by a trickle.
At 3 pm, we reach the base camp on Athirumala (The Border Mountain). The steep trek up this mountain has drained us out. There couldn’t be a better place for our camp, Gigo says. Yonder, the great mountain rose up, hitherto hidden by the benign canopy of exotic trees. An hour ago, I was persuading my friends
At the mercy of mist
The exotic garden that circles the bald head of the peak, in a benign moment when the mist gave in. to climb Agasthayrkoodam today itself. Venugopal sadistically asked me if I still wanted to.
The camp is abuzz with a hundred pilgrims. All along the path to Athirumala, they had been sprinkling turmeric powder over mysterious stones, which embody divine serpents, elephant gods and deities of the hills. The stones appear natural, perpetually carved by wind and water. Perhaps they might have been carved by pioneer pilgrims. They are no longer just stones, anyway.
The forest department has been allowing pilgrims/tourists inside the Agasthyavanam biological park for over a month. The annual pilgrimage would end in five days with the Sivarathri. The camp is just a big dorm with scant supply of plastic mats and a single-item-menu canteen run by a committee comprising the direct beneficiaries of the forest. We spent the evening lazing on a rock outside the trench-protected camp, gazing at Agasthyarkoodam.
I woke up to chilling cold before dawn. For a moment, I thought I was in an undersea glass museum. The sound of the waves was the wind ruling over the gigantic trees and reeds. I saw many were awake, but only a few dared to get out in the chilly wind. The
The pioneer mountaineer
Agasthya, nicknamed kurumuni (short sage) in Tamil, has a tribute on Agasthyarkoodam. (Sreekanth TV cared to record the idol, which draws thousands of pilgrims to this mountain every pilgrim season.) mountain was engulfed in a great cloud of mist. By 7 am, we walked to the invisible altitude. Rain started as an afterword of mist.
We have to walk a further 9 kilometres to reach the summit of the biological park, home to over 2000 varieties of plants, some of them with rare medicinal properties. We are traversing a wonderland so full of rare flora, but we can’t even see each other. The white mist covers everything beyond the first layer of bushes on either side of the narrow path uphill.
A group of students from the Tropical Botanical Garden and Research Institute in Palode, Thiruvananthapuram are collecting samples of plants and fungi for their research. They are led by Kani tribesmen, the key to the abundant knowledge of endemic plants. They have been chewing the leaves of Arogyapacha (Trichopus zeylanicus travancoricus) for generations to keep away fatigue, until a group of scientists from the institute chanced upon the habit and identified the medicinal value of the wayside plant in 1987.
It was the tried and tested healing properties of the mountain that bought several wise men, including its namesake Agasthya, to it. The legend of the sage spreads over everything from the Sidha tradition of medicine to classical Tamil grammar. Legends are so many that it is difficult to believe that Agasthya was only one individual who crossed the Vindhya ranges in central India to set up his hermitage in Agasthyavanam.
Agasthya, one of the sapta rishis (seven sages) of Indian mythology, started his southern sojourn to humble the mighty Vindhya Mountain that insulated southern India from the northern Aryavarta. The playful Vindhya would rise up to the sky each time someone tried to cross him. The growing mountain, who blocked even the sun, bowed his head when the great sage came to him. Agasthya crossed Vindhya and told him to maintain status quo until he returned from the south. He never returned.
Venugopal would like to do an Agasthya. He complains that the forest department has increased the height of the mountain since his first trip five years ago. We cross a stream on a vast rocky mountain covered in mist. (We were to realize on our way back that we were actually crossing a recuperating waterfall.) We trek to Pongala Rock, where men do a women’s ritual, cooking rice for the deity. The trek becomes more adventurous from here. We crawl on wet rocks and are assured by returning pilgrims.
The fragrant forest offers rare plants. Even the wind and water, caressed by the medicinal herbs, are healing. But no one dares to take the camera out in the sprinkling rain. As Venugopal and I catch up with the others after a steep hike, they are deliberating on the next course. A group is returning without scaling the final set of rocks: “It’s slippery in the rain. Can’t see anything in the mist…”
Surviving second thoughts, we decide to climb the vast rock stretching to the white sky hanging low. The wind is blowing hard. Like apes, we cling to the vertical challenge. There are layers of rock formations acting as steps. There are also small grooves the size of palms and soles as if they were marks left behind by countless pilgrims. Still the rock fort was intimidating.
I saw Gigo climbing in front of me and Nazeeb behind me. All others were lost in the mist. As we heaved a sigh after the first rock, there loomed a more formidable hike. Prabhakaran encouraged us: “This is the hardest part. You have come this far. Now you have to meet the sage. You will have his blessings.” The 50-year-old barefoot man has been coming to Agasthyarkoodam for the past 36 years.
The ascent suddenly bumps into an almost 90 degree-angle rock. On a cleft on the right side of it hangs a rope tied on a tree above. Gigo waits for his predecessor to reach the top safely. I aim for the cuts in the rock and continue my ape-like manoeuvres. Midway, I lost my pace, looking for the next niche to set my foot. I thought I slipped. I really did. Somehow I managed to crawl over the mammoth. I was excited with sheer fear.
Panting with fear, the three of us waited for the others. We left them a message through the descending pilgrims and moved up. Another surprise: a garden shrouded in mist in this altitude of barren rocks. Trees and bushes we haven’t seen anywhere else. Flowers and orchids flashing their mist-dimmed colours. For the second time in life, I rued not learning botany. (The first time was on the Kerala University campus charmed by beautiful botany students.)
After the Eden-like garden, rises the rocky summit, like a bald head. Srikanth is crawling down the rock. He had joined another group of pilgrims from the Pongala Rock. He had had his tryst with Agasthya. We leave our shoes and bags with him and go up. As the ascent ends, a stretch of less demanding ascent. We trot on the rocks to escape the pull. We have covered so many false destinations only to discover that the summit is farther. The mist is teasing us.
Shivering pilgrims, returning from the summit, encourage me: “You are there. Just climb this rock.” Excitement mounts. I am alone in the ascent. I can’t see Gigo in front or Nazeeb or the others behind me. I run into the mist and suddenly find myself on level field. Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay might disagree, but I was on top of the world, all alone. One of those rare instances when words fail us. I felt cleansed and confident and contended. I was afraid and grateful and ready to die.
The wind is furious here, trying to knock the sense out of me. Gigo appears out of the mist. Behind him, in a niche protected from the wind by a handful of trees, flickers the flames lighted by the pilgrims. They take turns to worship the idol of Agasthya the short sage (kurumuni). We participate in the puja till Nazeeb joins us. As we negotiated our way down the mountain, we cross Sachin, Sunil and Venugopal one by one emerging out of the mist. The magnetic mountain pulls you up.
The wind, the rain and the mist have deprived us of the much-desired photos. But the loss was nothing compared to the ethereal experience the forces of Nature presented to us on the mountaintop. We crawled down the rocks, realizing how easy the climb was. But for the mist which hid the depths, we wouldn’t have come this far perhaps. We proceeded to the base camp, stopping by to enjoy the landscapes for a moment when the mist unveils.
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anonymous
non-member comment
A narration so authentic that i relived the whole trek. Well never knew u three made a pact. Buddy 3 is an odd number lets make it 4, Count me in as long as health permits.