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Published: December 3rd 2012
Train to Coimbatore
Soon filled up with talkative travellers to a major city, albeit completely unknown to me.I’m writing this on the train from Kochi. Around me is a cacophony of enthusiastic conversations (men’s and women’s voices) in Indian language(s) and the faint English conversations of our group. Every few minutes tea and coffee vendors walk quickly through the car chanting, “Chai Chai Chai” or Coffee Coffee Coffee”. We are in a “second class air condition chair” car. It has been specially cleaned because a government minister is travelling on it. The interior is somewhat worn and the windows are dirty, but the seats are comfortable.
Outside pass the scenes common to our travels, although now the proportion is more towards fields and plantations and only a few villages, no doubt because of the constraints in laying tracks. (10:10 a.m.)
I am now writing in bed (with a hot water bottle at my feet to ward off the 5° chill) in
Ooty, after a day of hard but exciting travel. Getting off the train in
Coimbatore was adrenaline inducing. We were asked by our organizers to disembark immediately to allow room for the porters to get our cases down from the overhead racks and off the train. This was a five-minute stop. My case came off
Porters
Thankfully all our cases were taken from the train before it picked up speed! first to my relief. Trouble was, of course, that people were trying to get on the train at the same time. Three porters struggled mightily, but the train started with the three porters and two cases still on. JK vociferously demanded the porters complete their job, while two of our group gasped in fear of losing their belongings. The slow departure speed did let the porters bundle the cases and themselves out the door.
Our new driver consulted with JK and L__, who had to announce there was no time for lunch. The train was late and traffic was bad because of Republic Day (Independence Day). L__ stopped the bus to buy oranges and bananas and cookies, and a bit later for a toilet in a hotel (very clean squat toilet). Then we battled horrendous roads – some under construction, some thoroughly deteriorated. After about an hour we were on to the new road – still rough (maybe it’s the bus springs) but much faster. We had another train to catch.
Fairly suddenly, we were rising fast into the
Nilgiri mountains, completely forested or cultivated and quite high – elevation about 3000 metres in Ooty. The road was
Tourist Hotel
Seen from the train, a local hotel for visitors to the hill country. twisty and much narrower than our roads, with cars, buses, tuktuks and motor cycles passing each other and the trucks. Ignoring the dangers required complete faith in the driver plus a studied concentration on the beauty of the vistas. The views were stunning – folds of the earth clothed in greenery and swathed in what could have been translucent mist – but which was smoky pollution all the way to the top. Very disconcerting. The most thrilling view near the top was an almost vertical hillside draped with
Flamboyants in bloom! Once in a lifetime!
At
Coonoor we got on a small train to climb to Ooty. Thanks to aggressive driving, we were more than half an hour early. This train didn’t seem to take luggage (maybe a separate car), and in each compartment there were eight people, almost knees touching. (The driver and bus went by road, so this train ride was an entertainment.) Once we started it was quite exciting – the views alternated cut-banks and deep, wide mountain vistas. All the windows – more like window walls – were open. We all hung out, taking pictures, most of which probably won’t turn out because of the
Train and Cows
We got underway after checking that the cows were not hurt by being bumped by the train. speed – always a tree in focus when the camera snapped. I kept switching from video to still cameras, unable to decide which was better, until I gave up and just enjoyed the ride. There were several stations along the way, because this is a transportation method for hill residents. We contributed to pollution with chugs of black smoke, supplemented on steep grades by flames coming out of the train’s coal-fired engine. Surprising to me was the number of hill towns – only a few minutes between each.
After an hour we were in Ooty, and a five-minute drive brought us to the
Savoy Hotel: 180 years old, once a school, and for 100 years a hotel. Guest cottages in rows were scattered about the grounds where by day many lawn activities were organized. We only had time for a rest before the well-served set menu dinner, which included delicious white fish, fried in butter.
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Isabel Gibson
non-member comment
Porter trouble
So would they have let you get your own bags down, or was that not on?