Treks, Trails and Tranquility | Evolve Back Coorg

Untamed winds sweeping
Rainy green rolling hillsides
Leeches on my boots

I plucked a couple of the crawlies and kept moving upwards. It was only mid-morning but the mist around us veiled the sun and made it seem like late afternoon. The sweet fresh fragrances around lifted my mood. I turned around to catch a glimpse of our rickety ride - a Jeep-lookalike we hitchhiked up from a village at the base. It stood panting in the distance, after a reasonably rough drive. It had shabby sheets instead of doors to shield the passengers from heavy showers. The tyres were mud bathed and one of the wipers on the windscreen had given up.

They call Coorg the “coffee cup of India”. But a closer look at the north and northwestern sides tell a different story. I was pleasantly surprised to discover a host of trekking and hiking routes through untouched forests. Not too steep, neither too popular - the trails along Coorg’s Western Ghats are perfect for anyone who wants to explore abundant hilly forests at their raw best. With at least 5 prominent wildlife sanctuaries, a diverse and healthy bird population and innumerable hidden streams and waterfalls tucked away - this is a nature lover’s paradise…

We were about 40 feet from the starting point and at a good spot uphill to savour the panoramic scene. Stripped of human presence, this remote hill formed a stubby nose on the northernmost range of the Sahyādri in the state. Rolling greens to my right and left, like waves rising and falling with the clouds. Just before me were grassy patches studded with wild flowers. For acres around. Perhaps this is why they call it Pushpagiri, the mountain of flowers.

From the corner of my eye I could spot something moving in the tall grass. Oh this weather! The impenetrable fog made it impossible to spot wildlife! On our way up we caught glimpses of a family of Malabar Parakeet, giant squirrels and identified loud cackles of the Malabar Grey Hornbill. They say the grey bird is a sign of good luck and the harbinger of rain. The lack of motorable roads around the area ensures a lack of tourists. And invites only those in love with the wild.

My guide, a local who knew the region well, was already far ahead of me in the climb. Short and sturdy, he reminded me of mountain goats that could ascend effortlessly. The incessant rain over the last week has caused several landslides - be careful, he had warned me. His words rang in my ear as the slush under my feet made me lose my grip. The more I slipped the tighter I held on to my hiking pole. Walking on the grass should be safer, I mumbled to myself and placed my feet between the oddly spaced boulders. Right there! I fell back and held my breath - a baby snake, about 3 inches in all, wriggled past and dived into the undergrowth.

As I measured each step carefully along the way my mind wandered to the first conquerer of these ancient lands. What challenges must he have faced when he had arrived? Legend has it that a certain prince Chandraverma, had once climbed these hills to perform severe penance. Pleased with his efforts the Devi blessed him with an army, a sword and the power to become the first king of the region. His sons and grandsons went on to populate and reshape the land with their efforts. This came to be known as Kroda Desha or Kroda, taking its name from the Varaha Avatar of Lord Vishnu. The terms Koda and thereafter Kodagu are corruptions of the same.

We were a few feet from the peak and it was almost noon. Heavy rain clouds from the west were racing us to the top. The boulders that lined the edges stood out like the weather worn heads of lost idols. A single stalky tree swayed on the plateau-like feature ahead of us. Just a few steps more and the view from up there would be endlessly rewarding, I thought to myself.

Pushing against the strong winds we struggled to make our way through. And then something magical happened. With every step the weather seemed to change, the smell in the air…the weight of the winds…even the softness of the grass around… it was inexplicable! As if we had walked through an invisible gateway.

The rain came down suddenly, in all its mystical glory, as if to cleanse us, and make us ready for some divine ritual. The silence beyond this point was almost tangible. We sat under the solo tree, watching the peeking hills and the fleeting clouds. As we were about to settle into a reverie I was sure I heard someone chanting; a wispy low voice with breezy notes came in from the lower side beyond the rocks. The faint gushing of some powerful waterfall below was the only other sound that filled the scene. I stood up alarmed but curious - did someone climb up with us? Whoever was chanting, went on unperturbed. I was about to go in search when my guide said something that stopped me in my tracks. For the next hour he narrated several local folk stories that described different kinds of forest spirits that roamed these hills. Benevolent but mischievous. When honoured in the right way they blessed and worked for the benefit of the community.

We stayed up there listening to the whisperings for what seemed like an eternity. The soft notes seemed to heal parts of my mind I didn’t know needed healing. Maybe this is why ascetics come to the mountains to meditate.

Was it really a forest spirit? Or just the wind through the rocks. Your guess is as good as mine.

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