Four days is more than sufficient at Ooty

Q We are a group of five, planning to visit Vaishno Devi. We will be starting from Kurukshetra during the last week of January and will first reach Katra and then plan to start the yathra the next morning. Kindly advice us on the weather conditions at Vaishno Devi.
Manik You are planning A to visit Vaishno Devi, so you must be aware that the spot has cool climate throughout the year. And in the month of January, you will also find snow-capped peaks and chilly winds here.
The best season to visit Vaishno Devi is between March and October, though Vaishno Devi yathra is open throughout the year.
For the convenience of the pilgrims, blanket stores, toilet blocks, bhojanalayas and catering units and a medical aid centre have been opened up in the near vicinity of these accommodations units.
Here's more information on the best time to visit: March to October is ideal for Vaishno Devi yatra and sightseeing.
The other option would be to visit between November and February.
And for those who cannot walk the distance, pony and palanquin services are available.

Q I am planning to take a holiday break at Ooty.
I've planned a 10-day trip. Is four days enough to cover the chief attractions? Which other places can I tour on the remaining six days? I was planning on visit Mysore.

How far is Mysore from Ooty? Is hiring a cab a better option?
Preethi According to me, four Adays is more than sufficient time to tour Ooty.
It is a well-known place, but avoid it in summer, as it is the peak season and the place get crowded.
You can visit Mysore, which is around three hours away. You can easily spend two-three days in and around Mysore. Bus services are good, but for convenience, nothing beats a cab.

A journey to Tawang does test your resolve but the place is a must-visit

A journey to Tawang does test your resolve but the place is a must-visit
When conversations started about a potential trip to Tawang in Arunachal Pradesh, I was overjoyed.
Not because I had heard or read about the beauty of the place or its famous tourist spots. On the contrary, it was because not a soul I knew had ever visited it and it certainly didn't rank on the average Indian traveller's wish list. This unknown factor worked in its favour as did the exotic name of cities en route -Bomdila or Dhirang. First things first, due to past (read Indo-China 1962 War) and current tensions (a border dispute remains till date), a permit is a necessity to enter the state. That done, there are constant checkpoints where you will be stopped and your IDs checked along a 413-km route from Guwahati to Tawang, often making you feel like an outsider in your own country.
If that's not enough, the only access road to the exotic cities mentioned above is in deplorable condition, causing a car to breakdown with no mechanic available for a good 50 km either way.
And if you are still convinced about that trip, there's also changing weather conditions, ghats that go on forever, steep valleys and in winter, early nightfall at 4 pm, to deal with.
A trip to Tawang really tests your resolve, but you will be rewarded with beauty unparalleled. Take for instance, the PT Tso Lake.
Close to the China border, it is a beautiful water body that often freezes in winter, the snow around it acting as a striking contrast on the brown mountains. The cold makes it difficult for fish to survive in water and trees too can't sustain. The fact that you are probably on a Chinese gunman's radar, due to their vantage points in the surrounding mountains, adds to one's discomfort.
Then there are the Jang waterfalls, where our guide was happy to show us the exact spot where certain scenes of the Shah RukhMadhuri starrer Koyla were shot. And for those interested in history, there's a 400hundred-year-old monastery where the mind can find some peace in the constant chanting of the Buddhist monks.
And yes, of course, two war memorials (The Jaswant Garh Indo Chinese Memorial that lies en route or Tawang's War Memorial) can evoke patriotic feelings in you or cause for a sombre moment. Spend some time reading the names and tales of several jawans who laid down their lives for the country. Or bump into a soldier or two, and over a cup of tea discuss their day-to-day life. Or as in our case, just speak in Marathi to remind him of home.
A stay in Tawang is memorable, but be prepared for lack of hospitality from the natives. But considering the hostile conditions and the fact that this could easily be one of the most beautiful places on earth, the transgression can be easily overlooked. So do visit, please. Sela Pass The Sela Pass is the second highest motorable road in the world, and is en route to Tawang. The pass stands at a height of 13,700 feet. The pass was named after a girl (Sela) who died a martyr. In winter, weather conditions change rapidly and cars engines are known to shut down due to the intense cold. Paradise Lake lies close to the pass and often freezes over in winter. The pass is a popular tourist spot.
Getting there From Guwahati, Tawang lies at a distance of 413 kms. The best time to visit is winter and an overnight stop at Dhirang or Bomdila is highly recommended. At Tawang, do not expect or look for five-star accommodation. A simple room with a heater should suffice. The local market offers several Chinese products but do visit several shops to get best price. Also, do not expct much hospitality from the locals. A car is a must the entire time you are the tourist spot since it is at a distance from the city centre.

Winding mountain roads. Exotic orchids. Windswept monasteries. Snowy Himalayan peaks. There's plenty to see ­ and do ­ in Sikkim

Winding mountain roads. Exotic orchids.
Windswept monasteries. Snowy Himalayan peaks.
There's plenty to see ­ and do ­ in Sikkim 

GOING OVER the Coronation Bridge spanning the Teesta river, we crossed over from West Bengal to Sikkim. From here on, the sapphire blue Teesta became our companion.
Originating in the icy confines of a glacial lake at 17,487 feet, Tso Lhamo, the Teesta gathers strength and volume as it streams down forming a natural divide between Darjeeling and Sikkim.
Two incisions ran deep in the mountainside; the ravines of the Teesta and the road above it. Between them lay slopes of rain-drenched dense jungle. Miniscule flowers, bright spots on a green mat, dotted the slopes and often edged the road. Only some stubborn boulders remained grey-blue and bare. Up and up we wound, and then the road was running along the treetops, their trunks, hundreds of feet below, lost to view. After five hours of winding up the mountainside, we crested a slope and were halted by traffic which heralded our arrival in Gangtok! Being tucked away in the outer range of the Himalayas has not prevented Gangtok from spreading out.
The green forest has been replaced by vertical blocks of brick and cement coloured yellow, green and blue. When we entered the city, it was immediately identifiable by the characteristic bus stand and milling crowds ­ the hallmark of all hill stations.
AN EARLY START Living at sea level in the western part of the country, I did not realise how early the day begins in the eastern mountains, until a strong beam of light hit my eyes.
Groggily, I squinted at my watch. 4 am.
Oh God! But the sun was over the hills, and soon I decided to follow the sun. We made White Hall our first halt to see the seasonal flower show that was attracting crowds with its rhododendrons. The place itself is value-added with its graceful two-storied structure, built in 1932 in memory of Claude White, Sikkim's first political British officer. We spent a while here, but soon headed out to the National Research Centre for Orchids at Pakyong, 40 km out of Gangtok.
The Centre is on a hillock surrounded by greenhouses, hothouses and orchidiums. The research scientist is delighted to have visitors and comes along to show us his precious blooms. We are told that there are 25,000 species in the family Orchidaceae, and India has 1,700 of them.
Around 800 are found across the Himalayan hills while 450 species are native to Sikkim and Darjeeling. But of course, as forests continue to be decimated for development, these fragile and mysterious plants are threatened with extinction. The centre is now protecting and reviving important species like Cymb-idium, Dendrobium and others in greenhouses. Armed with this knowledge we follow our guide and are swept off our feet as we set eyes on orchids of numerous hues, sizes and shapes. It is late after noon when we guiltily realise that we have deprived our host of his lunch in our enthusiasm and finally take his leave.
FOREST FRENZY Back in the city, we realise that the Gangtok Mall is just delightful. A pedestrian zone, well paved with lovely shops on either side and benches down the centre for idlers. However, we turned our attention to the bakery we spotted and went in for a coffee and snack. By the time we emerged, street lights were winking at us. This time we sat on a bench to enjoy the dip in temperature while shooting some night pictures of the mall.
Charged with the beauty of the hills, we took off for Fambong Lho Wildlife Sanctuary early next morning with Ogden, a botanist, as our guide. A dynam ic young Lepcha, Ogden was all zest and kept up a running commentary about the flora of Sikkim. Often he would get the taxi to halt to show us wild flowers by the

LIVING AT SEA LEVEL, I DIDN'T REALISE HOW EARLY THE DAY BEGINS IN THE EASTERN MOUNTAINS
roadside. Fambong Lho covers 5,280 hectares and peaks at 7,000 feet. We walked steadily for an hour uphill through rhododendron forest, blazing with bright red blooms and pausing often to regain our breath or take pictures. The forest is reputed to be the home of the Himalayan Black Bear, Red Panda, Leopard, Civet Cats, Chinese Pangolins, several reptiles and over 281 bird species, although it was rather quiet on the morning we walked through.
A STAR TURN The next day, a buffeting wind engulfed us as we alighted from our jeep, pricking my half clad arms with icy spikes.
Hugging myself for warmth, I dashed through the door of the hotel, Mount Pandim. In our room, the wide window attracted us like a magnet. Framed perfectly within its glass rectangle was a panorama that kept us glued to the ground. Finally wrenching ourselves away, we decided to drive to Yuksom, 40 km from Pelling. Yuksom is perhaps better known for its connection with Bollywood star Danny Denzongpa than for its history. Along its main street the only major structure was that of a hotel belonging to Danny. The rest were shacks or makeshift tents beneath which locals spread out their wares, mostly clothes and shoes that come across the border from China.
Nevertheless Yuksom, meaning the `meeting point of three wise men' and its Dubdi monastery, are landmarks of Sikkimese history. It is said that three lamas converged here from different directions, and chose the first Chogyal, king, whom they crowned in 1641. Yuksom became the first capital of Sikkim. Dubdi was built later in 1701 an hour's trek away from Yuksom, deep in the forest. Once housing 30-40 monks, today only a few remain, but it still holds valuable paintings and manuscripts along with the statues of the three lamas who anointed the first Chogyal.
Pelling, at 6,800 feet is remote. Even now, it is just one street with single storey homes and just a few hotels coming up.
Pelling draws people today because it stands face to face with the patron Goddess of Sikkim ­ Mount Kanchengjunga. Perhaps, in the past, that would have propelled the king to build a summer palace here.
Today, the palace is a heritage hotel with a frontal view of the high Himalayan range. CELESTIAL SIGHTS The alarm shrieked at 3.30 am. I groggily ran to the window, drawing the curtains apart. A thick curtain of cloud greeted me. 4.30 am. Anxiety struck my heart. If the clouds did not roll away, sunrise on the peaks would be lost. A minute or two later, one solitary peak raised its head.
Rent apart, the cloud curtain dropped and there, close enough to touch, stood some of the highest peaks of the world, draped in dazzling white snow. The pyramidal shape of Kanchengjunga towered above the others. 5 am. The light got a bit stronger and a pencil thin beam of golden spangled light shot out. By the minute, the light spread rapidly, torching each peak like a taper put to candles and they flared up radiantly, blushing mildly.
We watched the rapidly changing scene through the lens only in single pointed concentration, aware that this was a never to be repeated show.
After that, we turned our attention to our next destination, Pemayangtse Gompa, the second oldest monastery of Sikkim founded in 1705. Pemayangtse stands aloof on a hilltop, ringed by the mountains it venerates. As we entered the courtyard we heard chanting from within the hall, the sound floating melodiously on the crisp air and saw prayer flags flutter in the wind. To the left of the stairs is housed a large prayer wheel in its own enclosure. Pemayangtse is a three storied wooden structure. The main prayer hall holds a massive statue of the Buddha flanked by his other incarnations and teachers of the sect. The first floor has more idols of the stalwarts of Buddhism, and on the third floor is a unique floor to ceiling structure ­ the `Sanghthokpalri' ­ a seven tiered painted structure that encompasses all that is on earth and ascends to heaven. Fascinated, I silently salute the monk who gave five years of his life to this creation. Then I descend to the main hall, the Lakhang. I sit quietly on a low bench facing the Buddha, absorbing the peace in His abode. After a while, I hear my name called out. The world prevails and I leave the monastery to rejoin it.
brunchletters@hindustantimes.com TRAVEL INFO GETTING THERE Air: The closest airport to Sikkim is Bagdogra airport in West Bengal, 124 km from Gangtok. Tourists can also fly from Bagdogra to Gangtok via a daily 20minute helicopter service operated by the Sikkim Tourism Development Corporation.
Rail: New Jalpaiguri and Siliguri in West Bengal, are the two rail stations nearest to Sikkim. New Jalpaiguri is 125 km and Siliguri 114 km from Gangtok.
Road: National Highway 31A connects Gangtok with Siliguri.(courtesy www.sikkimtourism.travel/)

WHAT TO SEE GANGTOK: is perched on a mountainous ridge, 5,500 feet above sea level. Once a laidback village, Gangtok has now awakened to the new world.
Like the Himalayan eagle, it is now taking to the skies with semi-high rises of seven to eight stories, more hotels and busloads of tourists surpassing the local population. Soon it will have its own airstrip.

FAMBONG LHO WILDLIFE SANCTUARY: is said to be the home of the Himalayan Black Bear, Red Panda, Leopard, Civet cats, Chinese Pangolins, several reptiles and over 281 bird species.

YUKSOM: became the first capital of Sikkim in 1641. Today, it is a revered site.

PELLING: is a big draw because it affords a magnificent glimpse of the patron Goddess of Sikkim ­ Mount Kanchengjunga.

Like a tram in the sky A trip in Wuppertal’s floating tram can be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, especially when raining,

Like a tram in the sky

A trip in Wuppertal’s floating tram can be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, especially when raining,

After jostling for space in a typical Indian city, a walk through the sparsely populated town of Wuppertal in the erstwhile Federal Republic of Germany is refreshing. The city’s claim to fame is that it is the birthplace of the tablet Asprin. In 1897, the German pharmaceutical company Bayer produced its brand of acetylsalicylic acid, drawn from the bark of the local willow plant, and sold it across the world with its trademark. It lost the trademark in the next century — one of those casualties of the Great War — but by then, Wuppertal had established itself firmly on the industrial map.
Perhaps the city’s once flourishing industry helped shape revolutionary thoughts in one of its most famous sons, Friedrich Engels, who supported and co-authored The Communist Manifesto with fellow German Karl Marx. Engels’ ideas were unpalatable to his parents, leading to a rift that probably led him to settle down in Britain in the years to come.
A trip in the tram
It was raining on the day we decided to take the city’s famous floating tram and get a bird’s eye view of the magnificent city. The Wuppertal Schewebebahn (Floating Tram) began its life in the skies in 1901. Back then, its designer Eugen Langen had dreamt of it floating above the streets of Berlin, but had to finally settle for Wuppertal. While most modern western cities opted to burrow into the underground for its mass transportation systems, Wuppertal aimed for the sky. Hanging from intricate metal beams, the tram is suspended mid-air as it snakes it way through the city, offering a majestic view of the mountains that surround the city.
Sometime in the 1900s, German emperor William II had participated in the tram’s trial run before it was thrown open to the general public. The only time the tram got closed down was during the Second World War, when allied bombers inflicted extensive damage on its steel beams. But by 1946, German engineers swung into action to restore its floating tram as the country began to emerge from its post-War years.
The tram travels 39ft above river Wupper, traversing a distance of nearly 13kms. Here, an accident can mean a dip in the bone-chilling water in the river below the tram. To those of us who were used to travelling closer to terra-firma, the idea seemed exciting as well as daunting. It helped that there is a metal net below so that an unfortunate slip doesn’t take you straight to the river.
Holding our breath, we climbed into the tram. Large windows opened up a majestic view of the city, which was dotted with trees. The cold waters of the Wupper river was flowing gently below. It took us a bit of time and assurance from co-passengers that there has been only one accident in its 110-year existence, to settle down. The Germans clearly take their engineering feats quite seriously.
The city swished past in a delightful blur, as its buildings and trees merged or separated nearly 35 feet below us.
A ghost town called Olberg
The Olberg district has a population of just about 17,000: Nearly 60,000 of its residents left for larger cities like Cologne and Bonn. The district’s magnificent mansions, called Wilhelminian houses, now lie vacant. Rents have plummeted (from 12 euros to 3 euros per sq mt). A mansion can be bought for as cheap as 1,00,000 euros. Groups here actually work towards bringing back the district’s population to save the crumbling houses that have been un-cared for. In the last couple of years, Wuppertal has begun to attract artists who use corner shops as a studio or gallery.

Notes from a Green Isle A causeway made by a giant. The world’s best linen. Brightly coloured doors that speak of a country’s defiance. Colleen Braganza writes about gloriously green Ireland

Notes from a Green Isle

A causeway made by a giant. The world’s best linen. Brightly coloured doors that speak of a country’s defiance. Colleen Braganza writes about gloriously green Ireland



The first thing you notice about the island of Ireland is that it’s so gloriously, vibrantly, voluptuously green. The green assaults you in a rather pleasant way as you drive across the isle past its meadows and quaintly named counties of Antrim, Londonderry, Limerick and Tipperary. Country music legend Johnny Cash was so enamoured with Irish green that he referred to it in a song, ‘Forty Shades of Green’. I tried to identify the shades. Only the lack of my colour vocabulary prevented me from reaching forty. Our guide Andrew Beggs reveals that Ireland has the same latitude as Norway. But, he explains, it’s not as cold because the waters of the Gulf Stream warm its western coast.

Giant’s causeway
Visiting Northern Ireland without stopping at the Giant’s Causeway is like travelling to Mathura and not going the extra few miles to the Taj Mahal. The causeway, believed to have once run from Northern Ireland to Scotland, is a geological marvel comprising tight columns of hexagonal basalt rock that formed after lava from a volcanic eruption about 60 million years ago cooled in a peculiar fashion. That’s the scientific explanation. I prefer the legend. Our guide narrates that the causeway is the work of a giant called Finn MacCool, the leader of the Fianna, the guardians of the King of Ireland. To cut a long legend short, a Scottish giant Benandonner shouted from across the Channel that he would beat the *#@! out of Finn only if he could cross over (he couldn’t swim). Not one to miss a challenge, Finn obliged by tearing up rocks from nearby cliffs and throwing them into the sea to build a causeway till Scotland. He was so tired after the job that he went to sleep in his baby’s cot as the giant crossed over. Finn’s wife asked the giant to sit, saying Finn was out and would return soon. As he waited, Benandonner caught a glimpse of Finn in the cot and was alarmed. He thought if the baby was that huge, how big would his father be? It didn’t help that when Benandonner poked the sleeping ‘baby’, it bit his finger off. The giant scurried back to Scotland, hoping never to meet its father.
We visited the causeway during perhaps one of the windiest days in the area. Despite being weighed down by a heavy lunch and woolies, all of us, at some point were lifted in the air by the sheer force of the gales battering that tip of Northern Ireland. The site was spectacular, with the grey sea lashing against the sentinel-like rocks as a fine spray coated us.

LINEN COUNTRY
At the beginning of the 19th century, Ireland was the linen capital of the world. Even today, you get some of the best linen in Ireland — deliciously crisp, yet creamy and cool. However, now, Ireland’s linen industry is almost a cottage industry as compared to China’s. We visited Flax Mill textiles in County Derry where a German couple Marion and Herman Baur weave linen the traditional Irish way. At the mill, Marion gave us a crash course on linen making and weaving. Linen is woven from the strong fibres of the flax plant that grows well in Ireland. “The hallmark of good linen is that it keeps you cool in the summer and warm in the winter,” says Marion. She refers to the Chinese takeover of the linen industry, saying that its excessively fertilised, hybrid flax plants grow to double the length of the metre-high Irish ones. However, this abnormal spurt in growth is corrected when Chinese linen is washed and the fibres shrink considerably. Irish linen is superior because it won’t shrink that way, she says.

Dublin and its doors
Enough was said about literary Dublin in these pages a few months ago but let me mention something that struck me as soon as I entered the 1,000-year old city. Almost all its Georgian homes sport doors that are painted every shade possible — red, blue, green, yellow, light blue, pink. Beggs, otherwise a walking encyclopedia, was silent on this. As I discovered later, it probably had to do with his political leanings. Basically, Ireland was ruled by the British for years and only won independence in the early 20th century. Even then, there was great bitterness because the British retained Northern Ireland. This ‘partition’ split the Irish people into Protestant Unionists or those who favoured a ‘union’ with the UK and Catholic Nationalists, who believed the isle of Ireland should be one, united and independent nation. Our guide was neutral but I caught a hint of his Unionist leanings. I got the story behind Dublin’s doors from a Tourism Ireland representative who had previously been shown around the city by a ‘nationalist’ Irishwoman. Basically, when Queen Victoria’s beloved husband Prince Albert died, she issued an edict that all doors across Ireland must be painted black. Smarting under British rule, the rebellious Irish didn’t pass up a chance to antagonise their rulers. Instead of painting their doors black, a sign of mourning, they chose vibrant, bright colours, a tradition that remains to this day.

Far and away in Uruguay’s beach villages

Far and away in Uruguay’s beach villages



As I stood clueless in the patch of sand that is Cabo Polonio’s downtown, a local provided directions to my hotel that were perfect for a Uruguayan beach village lacking conventional electricity and roads. “Keep heading up the path and make a right at the boats on the beach and follow the ocean,” said Santiago Pereda, an American-Uruguayan English teacher.
There are a few Uruguayan beach villages like this that retain an almost unspoiled, undeveloped character. They tend to attract the young and bohemian, along with Montevideo residents seeking to disconnect from modern life on vacation.
Cabo Polonio is in the state of Rocha, which borders Maldonado, home to the Miami-esque resort of Punta del Este. Rocha’s beach towns, many still largely fishing villages, begin about 90 minutes northeast of, and a world away from, Punta.
The village’s one-story buildings are strewn along sandy paths within a national park. Strict development and environmental rules protect the miles of sand dunes surrounding the town. Solar panels and generators provide intermittent electricity, while at night the beam of an 1881 lighthouse offers the moon and stars a little competition.
The Atlantic coast of Uruguay, rough with shoals and rocks at points, was a danger for shipping in the 1800s, a period when many of the country’s several lighthouses were built using British technology. Today, that same treacherous seacoast is a boon to surfers.
A less-isolated Rocha resort is Punta del Diablo. The town is famous for thatch-roofed A-frame Hansel and Gretel houses, built by fisherman to rent to vacationers. Fishermen’s boats and stalls where they sell their catch remain the shoreline’s most prominent feature. “This is a fishermen’s village, discovered by tourists,” said Martin Abasto, of Buenos Aires, whom I met on the beach where he had come to surf with friends. “People who come here look for tranquillity, peace. They don’t want craziness. They want to have more of the beach to themselves.”
The owner of my hotel, a skinny fellow named Eduardo Vigliola took me to a nearby ecological zone called Laguna Negra with an astounding array of avian wildlife — owls, falcons, parrots and the ostrich-like nandu.
Vigliola calls a puddle a “carpincho Jacuzzi,” referring to the world’s largest rodents. Carpinchos, which remind me of furry pigs, grow to as much as 79kgs. But it isn’t the creatures from the Black Lagoon bothering me. In shorts and flip-flops, I’m bitten by large green insects as spiky grasses cut my feet.
My last day in Rocha was spent in La Paloma, another resort marked by a lighthouse and plentiful surfers, but one that has sacrificed some charm to gain in pizzerias, retailers and even a condominium high-rise. No fishermen, no hippies — and I couldn’t see the stars.

Losing oneself in a timeless space In Ladakh, where roads are jagged and wind along snow-covered mountains, the destination is not as important as the journey itself

Losing oneself in a timeless space

In Ladakh, where roads are jagged and wind along snow-covered mountains, the destination is not as important as the journey itself



We don’t explore a place in a vacuum and there really is more to a destination than the sum of its sights, sounds and colours. Especially on a road trip in Ladakh, where the roads are treacherously jagged and wind along arid mountains, untamed rivers, stretches of sand dune, patches of forest, rocky outcrops with layers of stratified rock, all decked in a garb of snow. Ladakh is largely about the journey and less about the destination, barring stupa or monastery stops. Which explains why I am enthused by the invitation to test drive an SUV.
The first day in Ladakh is dictated to by the need to acclimatise to the high altitude. We spend the greater part of the day doing nothing more strenuous than pottering around the Leh market, admiring the traditionally- styled buildings with their ornate wooden window frames, and drinking endless cups of tea by lyrical streams. By the next day, I have no desire to move at all. All I want is to enjoy this slow pace of life.
Turns out the acclimatisation was essential, for to get to Pangong Tso — the loveliest lake in Ladakh, we have to cross the towering and world’s third-highest Changla pass (5289 mts). Now, while it may be a pleasure to drive in comfort with an expert who knows his cars, it’s altogether unwise to travel with a consort of men who cherish these vehicles above all else.
Over the next few days, a typical conversation with a companion on the road in the SUV goes something like this. Me: Ooh, look at the sand dunes, double-humped camels and the mist swaddling the mountains. He: That’s nice. But the performance with the engine is really something else. Me: Don’t you love that there’s no fat on the land, so to speak, just stretches and stretches of bare contrast-ridden landscape before us? But he doesn’t hear me, for he is swooning over the exclusivity of an engine created and signed by a star engineer.
In defence of the boys, however, their dexterity and skill with the vehicle allows us to climb steep slopes I didn’t think it was possible to ascend.
Stopping at Changla, all eyes turn with a mixture of admiration and envy at the spectacular fleet of vehicles arriving. An elderly lady with all the lines of the world mapped on to her face, offers cups of the usually free tea (courtesy the Indian army) available at the pass, in exchange for a ride. She advises us to save a few days for age-old monasteries. I tell her that the last time I went to Lamayuru and Spituk, I took pictures of monks supposedly in meditation, texting away on their mobile phones. Times have changes child, she says with a giggle.
The drivers are itching to speed on, and so we bid farewell to the ancient one and the brightly-coloured prayer flags, which wave back energetically in the breeze.
When we reach Pangong Tso however, all discussion of who drives fastest and under whose prowess the vehicle glides best disappears, for the lake’s surreal palate of vivid blues and monumental burnt-sienna landscape dissolves all ego. Against the backdrop of swirling mineral-colour mountains, whose peaks remain capped in snow the year round, we unpack our sandwiches. Mobile phones don’t work here and in this moment we’ve severed all relationships with family, work and other animals. Contemplation turns to the smallness of man in relation to the vastness of the scenery. Nature is the great equaliser. And in the vast desert of time that opens up before us I am reminded of the words of Chris Colin, who wrote in his essay, Into The Darkness, “ This is the essence of travel, or at least travel taken to completion: its not the change of scenery, or the new way of preparing lamb — it’s you. You are lost to yourself, you don’t know who will emerge from the pit.”

Life in the land of the dead If you’re tired of the touristy areas of Jaisalmer’s Desert National Park, just follow its animals and birds. They take you near the Indo-Pak border, and there’s a surprise in store,

Life in the land of the dead

If you’re tired of the touristy areas of Jaisalmer’s Desert National Park, just
follow its animals and birds. They take you near the Indo-Pak border, and there’s a surprise in store,


arubhoomi, the Sanskrit word for desert, means ‘land of the dead’. A cursory glance at any desert would make you believe this term fits well. Vast stretches of sand dunes are dotted with tiny specks of lifeless green. There are mirages that look like water, but there’s not a drop to drink.
But look again, and you will find beetles looking for food, reptiles looking for beetles, and birds looking for reptiles. The cycle of life is in perpetual motion. Over millennia, the flora and fauna of this unforgiving landscape have adapted to survive on bare minimum food and precious little water.
This holds true for the Desert National Park, too. Situated 40kms to the west of Jaisalmer, the park is a veritable storehouse of Indian desert wildlife with over 40 species of reptiles and over 120 species of birds. Did someone say it is the ‘land of the dead’?

The Park, which stretches for about 3,200 sq km, falls in the Great Indian Thar Desert, one of the harshest terrains in the world. A part of this desertscape spills over into the Rann of Kutch in Gujarat, where the shifting sands transform into flatlands with layers of salt.
The first impression of the Desert National Park, however, was a big let-down. The Sam sand dunes, a magnificent stretch of undulating dunes, were once picturesque shifting sands which have now been ruined by irresponsible tourists. Rajasthan’s tourism department and forest department are at loggerheads with each other. Due to their apathy, mounds of plastic have piled up at the destination that was once nominated to be a World Heritage Site.
I soon realised how the wildlife of this area stayed away from this area infested with Homo Sapiens. I decided to do the same and headed where the wildlife had shifted — four kilometres ahead, towards Pakistan, and then turning left towards the Sudhasari Gate of the park.
Just as we entered this area of the Park, we were rewarded by a rare sight: over a dozen white-backed vultures spread over a cluster of three trees. This number doubled in the evening as they gathered to roost. It was a heartening sight, because all species of vultures are disappearing at an alarming rate across India. Balveer Singh, the forest guard, informed us that this large scale decimation is due to Diclofenac, an anti-inflammatory drug used to treat cattle. This drug enters the body of the vultures who feed on the carcasses of cattle, and kills them instantly.
On the drive back to the Sudhasari Gate, we spotted the Imperial Eagle and the equally royal Egyptian vulture. At the gate, Dharamdas, a forest guard, excitedly told us that he had spotted a small group of the highly endangered grassland bird, the Great Indian Bustard. We rushed and drove up to a kilometre through the open grassland to reach the spot. But the Bustards had eluded us.
From Sudhasari, we proceeded to a little-known village called Khuri, located 20 kms away. There, we feasted our eyes on rippling sand dunes undiscovered by most tourists. A couple of decades ago, this is how the Sam sand dunes would have looked like — full of pugmarks criss-crossing along the desert rather than scattered boot marks of reckless revellers.

On our way back to the guest house, the car came to a screeching halt. I looked at Babloo Chawla, my driver, but he simply pointed to the road ahead. There I saw a beautiful Red Sand Boa, slowly crossing the road. We alighted and watched it glide into the grass.
Babloo, in the three days he was with us, became an excellent spotter of desert fauna. He admitted it was the first time he had ever been with people who stopped at every turn to trail butterflies, birds, reptiles and mammals. He even started spotting animals faster than we could, which meant that he took his eyes off the road ever so often!
The day after, we decided to drive down towards a village called Dhanana near the Pakistan border. Here, I realised that the pristine sand dunes on the way to Khuri were nothing compared to what was in front of our eyes — all along the 40km drive, endless stretches of breathtaking sand dunes interspersed with the regular desertscape. Here, we spotted flocks of sandgrouse, a lone spiny-tailed lizard and the puny desert fox. I wondered at the way nature made a miniature out of the fox so it can find food easily in such harsh conditions.
Soon, the desert showed signs of greening. The changing patterns of monsoon and increasing irrigation facilities were bringing in more water into this arid zone than before. Newer plants were making their way into the desert, and the fauna, too, were undergoing ecological changes. Will the artificial introduction of water be detrimental for the flora and fauna that has evolved over the millennia to adapt to these harsh conditions? Only time will tell.

When I took on the Chinese On a trip to Bum La in Arunachal Pradesh, Girish Deshpande agreed to arm-wrestle a Chinese captain and hoped for the best

When I took on the Chinese

On a trip to Bum La in Arunachal Pradesh, Girish Deshpande agreed to arm-wrestle a Chinese captain and hoped for the best

Back in September, after being on the road for two days in Guwahati in Arunachal Pradesh, we finally reached Tawang. Post an early morning prayer session at the massive Tawang monastery, which dwarfs the town itself, we quickly completed some formalities with the authorities for a pass to visit Bum La.
Bum La, at 15,000ft above sea level, is home to the last Indian army check-post on the Line of Actual Control (LAC) in this sector. LAC, also called the McMohan Line, is an imaginary and often disputed border between India and China.
We were greeted by the effervescent Subedar Sohan Singh’s unit and taken to Friendship Point. Here, as a mark of Indo-Sino friendship, one is supposed to offer a small rock onto a pile. Surprisingly, we spotted a truckload of Chinese soldiers led by their officer (who later identified himself as Captain Fem Lai) on the other side of the LAC. We later found that they were there to make preparations for the Chinese National Day which falls on October 1.
Captain Lai offered us a smoke. When my friend and I politely refused, he suddenly challenged me to a game of panja (arm wrestling). I accepted it, totally oblivious to the fact that I am almost 50 and he seemed a lot younger and professionally trained to fight in mountain warfare. It was too late, though. I convinced myself that victory here meant victory for the entire nation.
We locked our fists. For what seemed an eternity, our elbows didn’t budge. For his small frame, the officer was mighty strong.
Suddenly, as I strained with all I could, I began to get a sense of advantage. It was well over a minute and my heart was pumping hard. My lungs protested, but I couldn’t quit then. Then, with one final heave, I yanked his hand. This put Caption Lai in a hopeless position, but I was wary of him even then, much the same way as the world is of the Chinese. But that was all I could give then. I knew I had the energy only for a few seconds more. Surprisingly, that’s exactly what Captain Lai seemed to have sensed for himself, too. He pulled away.
I had won. And my arm? Well, it had left me. I managed to mumble some consolation and amidst much bonhomie at both sides, we parted ways.
Once back in the camp tent, Sohan Singh offered me a plate of steaming hot suji-ka-halwa. “Ji, aap ne toh dat kar jawab diya (You gave them a befitting reply),” he said.
On the drive back to Tawang, I realised I had a great story to tell my friends and my kids back home. I arm-wrestled a Chinese army officer. And won.

Beauty in the beast photoes- Masai Mara

Beauty in the beast

 
Masai Mara is home to more than 470 bird species

The lion, no doubt, is the most breathtaking of the Big Five

You really wouldn’t want to mess with an African buffalo


Zebras nibbling the hair on each other’s backs

INDIANS ARE increasingly leaning toward niche travel with adventure tourism

INDIANS ARE increasingly leaning toward niche travel with adventure tourism being the most popular concept. Travellers are seeking activities like mountaineering, rock climbing, trekking, skiing (above), skating, mountain biking and safaris. This has resulted in the popularity of destinations like Bintan (Indonesia) for adventure sports and South Africa for jungle safaris.

LUXURY TRAVEL: Indians are spending more on holidays at private islands, luxury yachts, exclusive hotels, chalets and palaces. Castles, palaces and villa stays in Ireland, Switzerland and Greece are likely to gain popularity in the next year.

SINGLE DESTINATION TRIPS: Rather than combining multiple destinations in one holiday, travellers are willing to plan a holiday exploring a single destination like the Fiji Islands, Scandinavia and the Caribbean, which offer unique experiences.

EXPERIENTIAL TOURISM: It is a rapidly emerging trend. Indians are looking forward to understand and be a part of the culture and heritage of the destination they seek to explore. SPORTS TOURISM: It is also gaining in popularity e.g. FIFA World Cup, Formula 1, cricket matches, etc.

EC0-TOURISM: Young Indian travellers are leaning towards identifying an exciting, eco-friendly way to see the world without compromising on comfort and style. Eco-tourism, which entails responsible travel to natural areas that conserve the environment and improves the wellbeing of local people is amongst the top five future travel trends as per the Kuoni India Holiday Report.

DOMESTIC OPTIONS: Luxury travellers in India are opting for royal holidays in the palaces of Jaipur and Udaipur.
Spa and wellness retreats are also becoming popular with travellers.
For more active holidays, people are opting for jungle safaris (left) in breathtaking lodges at Panna, Bandhavgarh, Pench and Kanha, as well as scuba diving and white water river rafting trips. Finally, frequent travellers are seeking a glimpse of true Indian culture via village homestays.