You are alone when you are on your own – when you have no one to speak with, no one to look at, no one to laugh with, no one to walk with, no one to hug, no one to care for you, no one to question you and no one to tell you are all on your own. But could you be alone when you have a couple of best friends with you, when you have the time to drive with them to a destination haunting your dream for a long time and when you physically are not alone? Well, it’s an experiment then and I had three days of July/2011 to prove you actually could go alone, be alone, explore alone and wonder alone when you weren’t really alone. Three days to coin a new meaning for the word “alone” and three days to prove that you could be three and still alone. Our minds always try to do and think the less desirable and mine was no different. I very well knew SW monsoon was ravaging the west coast and that’s were I exactly wanted to be with my college mates for going through 3 days of drenched dream. It was no ordinary dream and the days ahead proved it’s a dream we’ll never dream again, atleast till we exhaust this birth. For the past two years I had been yearning to visit this baby and its only now I realize why God pulled me back and held tight from reaching her. He probably was waiting to let loose when the time was perfect, when he was in good mood and when I had my imagination reach a matured plane. Past 21st century, it’s surprising to think there are places, fringing major urban agglomerations, still isolated and protected from human onslaught and still fresh enough to extend your life span by a couple of years or so. It takes so much to bring a smile on your face, so much to make you satisfied in your daily life, so much to make you feel secured, so much to make you feel comfortable, so much to make you forgive a simple error, so much to satisfy your hunger and so much to cross over a single day of your long life. Then imagine the potential of a place which made me forego all the above mentioned and walk like a saint with no food, no water, no changeover clothes, no thoughts, no hunger, no thirst, no desires, no anger, no revenge and above anything – complete, unadulterated satisfaction for letting me to witness the best moments of nature. Believe me, I had never been so humble or never been so grateful to think that the life I lead is nothing but, the biggest donation God has written off his bank balance. Without it, I would never have been able to meet you guys through my favorite indulgence – photo essays. And it’s yet another one am presenting here direct from my heart rather than the brain, for you need to be out of senses to recover from such a massive nature attack and rejoin the urban gutter.
It’s been exactly one year since me, Dave, Gani and Pipa got wet in the west (my second posting in the Blog) and it was an erotic coincidence that we got yet another opportunity to get wet again in the same region. Malnad is a land of nostalgia – everything moves at its will and you get sucked into the trend once within its confines. I was a victim a year back and now I was pursuing her with the same intention of losing myself to time and walk through pouring rain to wash away all accumulated chaos. This time around Pipa was absent and I embarked on the 765 Kms long drive with Gani on a damp Friday night from Chennai. Gani had transformed a lot during the past year and his new job with Caterpillar had pumped up his enthusiasm. After couple of hours of conversation, it was a lonely night and the drive was secluded as I was looking forward to meet Mr. Dave @ Silk board, Bangalore. By 3:00 AM we were approaching the electronics city, and as always, drop in temperature was apparent with the engine running at its efficient best. Bangalore was seductive with its romantic climate and Mr. Dave was emerging out of the distant darkness, characterized by his peculiar “cool” body language. We were now three and I was wondering if it would do good to the existing “lonely” feeling as I handed over the keys to Mr. Dave to rest my eyes till Tumkur. Though Mr. Dave isn’t a one threatened by death, his ultra cautious drive inspired confidence and my consciousness melted away into the cold darkness for that craving sleep. Rejoined NH4 after we bid goodbye to her at Ranipet on the way from Chennai some 2:30 hours back and, Mr. Dave was in full control as toll gates were passed by in a significantly hurried manner. Dawn was slowly emerging and Tumkur was just 2*15 Kms away as I caught hold of an exotic Tea shop flanking the NH4 at an unknown place and at an unknown distance from Bangalore. Pulled in for a sleep drowning break and the temperature was fabulously cold to make us hasty for a hot drink. Moments like this are inscribed permanently in our minds as we three were enjoying the frustrating cold with cups of hot tea, discussing the past happy moments, and an Audi Q5 piercing through pre-dawn darkness over the majestic NH4 added flavor to the existing exotic feeling. I was slowly beginning to recognize the fact that, we three were existing in their own worlds, own thoughts and own plans but only traveling together to reinforce all these to arrive at a solution at the end of the jaunt. The deep interior of Karnataka lying ahead ensured we wouldn’t be united in our thoughts but, lead a lonely drive despite three of the best friend’s being together. The title of this posting began to get shaped at this point of time………
Just after the 3rd toll gate from Bangalore, over NH4 towards Tumkur, there’s the Tumkur Bypass road which lets you join NH206 that connects Honnavar on the west coast. NH206 is a 363 Km long National Highway connecting the two major cities (Honnavar/ Tumkur) in the most secluded way possible. Once past Tumkur, it takes you through old world villages, with their original charm intact, and cattle grazing and farming emerge as the major occupation. There’s a perfect road, perfect scenery, perfect mind set-up, perfect friends and a perfect point on life line where thoughts begin to get, a bit selfish. What would you expect to do then?? A lonely drive with self contained thoughts, though my friends were sitting beside and behind with same mind set-up, and major towns were passed by with less desperation. The only non selfish thought that popped up during this drive was my fear on whether this beautiful 350Kms+ stretch would remain intact for ever or, would it be transformed to a double lane expressway as its beautiful cousin NH48 (now changed to NH75). With a quiet prayer I kept driving towards our destination, with occasional photo shots and hilarious chatter occupying the weekend freedom we were blessed with. After a long drive from Chennai we finally reached Tarikere, a town which redefined “Bliss” a year ago during the Jog falls trip. Now she was dry and cold and couldn’t manage to arouse my feeling and she was passed by with less attention and importance. SW monsoon has been heavy this year but, mostly confined to the west of western Ghats and I was driving without a hint of it as I was about to be shaken to tears in a matter of hour when I would be on the appropriate side of the Ghats. Shimoga was passed by with a blink, where we would be running back a day later, and the road to Agumbe was right in front of us with the difference in ambience apparent and only increasing in intensity with every KM further. Pumped up 15 liters of contingency fuel and pressed in the direction of heaven, through heaven, as the clouds deliberately gathered to warn us of the existing scenario up there in Agumbe. We ignored them though and the doors were wide open – the choice was ours and obviously, the consequences too. Madras to Malnad was no ordinary drive, as I had to keep my eyes on red alert every time I passed a sleepy truck driver at 40+ Kmph after I had already crossed 100 Kmph and add to it high speed junctions, ultra slippery national highways under pouring rain and every other uncertainty you could associate with night driving in India. Both body and brain were squashed after 12 hours of relentless concentration as the emerging landscape just blew them away and was infusing an extraordinary life into my mortal remains. I could feel it, I could breathe it and I was beginning to forget I had parents back home as the eye moistening ambience of Malnad country side adopted me as its favorite son. My legs were cold, thinking how its goanna be up there and my life was already pulled out, even when we had a long 70 Kms ahead to reach God’s feet.
River Tunga flowed past by us for the initial sector of this 92 Km long mind blowing road connecting Shimoga with Agumbe. Certain stretches were significantly dark and damp, indicating the approaching tropical rain forest region and the mysteries it holds within. I have to be transparent when I share my inner thoughts with a wide ranging friends – as wide as from Mexico to China and from US to UAE – I give genuine explanation of what I see and if it seems to be an exaggeration its only because I fall in deep love with my places even before I see them for real and when I do see them, its an emotive outburst. The real reason for me to plan a trip to Agumbe was to spot the biggest of all venomous snakes, the mighty King Cobra, in its core habitat. Though it may be overkill, I relied on my very poor luck to spot one, maybe looking at me from above coiled around a rubber tree or even, face to face as I walk through that narrow water filled path through virgin rainforest region (Photo no 36). With the King occupying my mind, I was made ignorant of how the landscape outside had changed from extraordinary to extreme seduction. I had never envied a culture to this extent, a group of gifted people living close to god and enjoying his offers through their entire life span. We were 50 Kms away from Agumbe now, Rain was drifting with stupendous force and form, trees were swaying like they would fall anytime, herds of cows were running like their life was on a bet, mesmerizing tiled homes were bearing the full brunt of rain god with their occupants peeping out at the heavenly chaos through romantic dark windows, beautiful Malnad woman were running in groups after the morning classes with their umbrellas pulling away like hydrogen filled balloons, baffled street dogs were looking with surprise from under road side benches at the three strangers and the wiper was working overtime to let us witness an annual ritual orchestrated by mother nature. I was spellbound by Malnad, its ambience and above anything the way it had accommodated itself to the unforgiving downpour for 4 successive months every year. And it is this adaptation that results in some of the best visual retreats when we happen to travel through this region when heavens open up, wide and loud. We had to see 32 more Kms on the trip meter before we could reach his majesty as we entered the last major town before Agumbe, Thirthahalli. From here onwards, the road becomes more desolate and it pierces through dense tropical rain forests. There was no let up in rain or the gust and the drive had already topped my previous experiences anywhere over the Ghats. I wanted to acknowledge my contentment to mother nature and I could do it no better than to park the car on a rusty bridge (Photo no 37); with Tunga gushing out towards the plains below; get out in the rain, put my face right on the path of the gust and close my eyes till I can. The thoughts which ran through my mind at that point of time were something more painful than a first time orgasm.
Chunks of thick fog were sweeping the entire horizontal and vertical eye span, mild drizzle like a pepper shower over meat pan, wet and broken road indicating the intensity of recent rains, heat sensing leeches, a single isolated tea shop, a single isolated eat-out, a single isolated hotel, a single isolated bus shelter, deserted broken homes, few lazy people and a busy police check post (??) drew quickly an early picture of the Agumbe town. I wasn’t bothered about anything but to run to that single eat-out and stuff something in for it’s been 16 hours since my last meal. Rains began pouring and it was a solitary heavenly lunch inside the dark and damp tiled shop with no electricity. Surprisingly, the food was awesome for existing conditions and we were forced to re-order the same dish till tummies went full. It was only 3:30 PM but the existing ambience indicated something 3 hours later and the rain had only gained in intensity. The conditions were insane, believe my words, so insane that I just pressed opened my umbrella and began the walk towards Jogi falls, under the heaviest rains my eyes have ever seen, to undertake a 6 Kms trek after a 765 Kms long tiring drive with no bath, no changeover clothes and yellow teeth. I was like stinking garbage that even leeches took few seconds to identify me as a victim and I walked without turning back into thick foliage as Mr. Dave and Gani followed reluctantly. The sky was ridiculously black and visibility into the thick foliage was frighteningly poor (Photo no 10) as rain was ripping Agumbe like a pride of hungry lions. The road to Jogi is a narrow 2 meter wide tar topped stretch for the first couple of Kms and then an abrupt right turn lands you right in the heart of leech country. From here onwards the blood you lose is directly proportional to the rate of walk and I was forced to compromise where there was a good shot available. By now it was 5:00 PM and Gani and Mr. Dave called it a day, fearing the onslaught of rain, leech, king and the unknown. Just when we were about to back up a tiny fawn leaped right in front of my head fearing us to be a predator, which was an obvious thought and this further hastened our retreat back to the village. Once over tar topped road, rain began to rip through Agumbe and no living being was to be seen in the vicinity. A desolate tea stall run by an elderly couple came to rescue and we jammed into it to get away from the pinching rain drops. The hot Malnad coffee served in a dirty utensil played the evening companion as we were stunned by the relentless rain. We reluctantly stepped out when there was drop in intensity and hastened our walk towards the car which was parked right in front of the only hotel in Agumbe; The Mallya; a 6 room, 2 storey fragile building holding itself through the punishing rain and gust. The rooms were damp and our tired bodies shed tears, fearing the unforgiving night ahead. I removed the contact Lens and washed my eyes with cold water before stepping into the balcony to look into the vast wilderness surrounding Agumbe and the powerful gust and rain banging them hard. It was the most punishing night I had ever been through as we three lay parallel on a stinking mattress with lights on and eyes closed. Our sleeps were seriously disturbed by shaking windows, swaying door and the wild rain outside. It was only once, that night, I stepped out into the balcony to check prevailing conditions and it was a sight frightening enough to close my eyes till dawn. I only could pray for my poor car standing there, out in the midnight downpour, as I lost consciousness promptly. That could have been the night my seventh sense would never forget….
Few times in life we wake up to find our dream become a reality. The dawn of July/24 was one such day in my life and it’s a dawn I would never be able to wake up to ever again. I woke up with my instinct kicking me to get up, look out and scream quietly about what was going on around Agumbe. As far as my early morning blurred vision could permit, there were ever green forests and as far as they could stretch there were bluish fog floating around like inside a deep freezer. Gust was still strong enough to send me running for cover and there was every intention of rain God apparent to pour ASAP. It was the second day I forgot to Brush my teeth or have a bath or change the clothes I sported 2 days back and it was direct correlation with Mother Nature to enjoy the best mood she was in. Compromised Gani and Mr. Dave to tread my path and walked towards the deserted Bus Depot for a cup of hot tea. The tea was unexpectedly good as I watched with vengeance a blood sucking leech hastening towards us. It was disposed with certain amount of enthusiasm and we began the erotic walk through thick fog towards the mighty Onake Abe falls, a natural wonder hidden inside the deep rain forest region and which required a 3.5 Kms trek through occasional knee deep water crossings and leech filled slush. The intensity of the course was so threatening under prevailing rains that even the most experienced guide declined to accompany us. We prepared for an indigenous attempt and began the slow walk as rain God woke up a little late to thrash us with massive amount of punishing rain. The hike was slowed down and the fog/rain combination gave three wonderful opportunities to my camera and the EF 24-105 mm F/4 L series canon Lens (Photos 4, 23 and 38). These three photos captured a perfect depiction of the lifestyle in Malnad and every time I look through them on my desktop @ home “I wish I could fly back to Agumbe” – It’s that good. Though a full frame could have captured a cleaner image, the mere ambience of these two shots sends a chill down my memory lane every time I think about Amazing Agumbe. The entrance to Onake Abe was few hundred meters away and we prepared to meet the onslaught with generous dose of salt and tobacco, which would be rendered useless with the first few steps into core zone, as rain intensified its volume. The entrance to Onake Abe, under a downpour, is a place in itself and any nature lover could just spend hours looking at the tremendously fear inducing path way which winds 3.5 Kms into the unknown. The rain was so punishing and leech intensity so powerful, we abandoned our attempt and began the walk back to the Village. It was a painful moment as I had driven all the way from Chennai to look at the sheer drop of Onake Abe right from the point were she falls – I was broken. The walk back was curtailed short by the ridiculously massive downpour, massive to such an extent; that we dumped ourselves into a deserted broken home where I got this shot (Photo no 11).
The real attempt began at 8:00 am, July/24 as we began the real meaningful hike, pulling from depths all our energy and will power, towards Jogi falls. If you could browse through World Wide Web for an annoyingly long amount of time on “Jogi”, you would be surprised to compare the collection of images with what I have presented above, because, that’s what happened to me. Hope Jogi had never been explored when she was at her gorgeous best, when the rain was of vision inhibiting intensity, when south west monsoon had engulfed the entire Malnad, when the entire population of this mesmerizing region had migrated and when entire Agumbe was brought to a standstill. The entrance to Jogi is an event in itself as you have to park your car right in the middle of a drenched rain forest (Photo no 29), leave behind her with certain romantic uncertainty and walk through a path that would instantly stop your breath (Photo no 3). It was 9:00 Am and the prevailing ambience only reminded me of a damp dusk as we walked fast to escape the wrath of blood suckers. What comes next is even worse (maybe more challenging) as you deviate from the path you saw above and pierce through intense vegetation and you already could feel that “sucked feeling” on your already “sucked out” feet. Add to it the dangerously dense moist vegetation rubbing against your fragile body as you are forced to run fearing the suckers and the known existing threat – Our mighty King. The King is a thinking snake; it actually watches you, follows you and predicts your next move. It doesn’t waste its energy like a stupid rather, keeps watching you without you knowing a hint of its majestic presence somewhere nearby. It was only the “no first strike” policy of the King that gave me the courage to roam through the vegetation sea. I knew he was somewhere around there. The fear resulted in haste, haste diverted our direction towards a wrong exit and sometimes, a mistake could mesmerize the moment which was very much the case in this instance (Photos 2, 13, 25 and 35). This location was as exotic as anything could get – nothing to stop you, nothing to limit your imagination, nothing to curtail your freedom, nothing to make you worry or nothing to talk about even. To just sit on the safest rock and sipping away a bottle of white rum or Vodka could be the most erotic indulgence I could ever think about @ this out of the world place. Played with elastic leeches with a smile on the face, disposed them with utmost care, sat under pouring rain in the middle of a wild stream in full flow with no one to hear your loudest screams, risked loosing the SLR to the depths and loved to die. As rain began its onslaught again, we began the massively tiring uphill trek towards “Jogi Falls”, which was very much nearby. After few minutes of precise running we were there – a place so private that I could issue a document of registration to my name. If there’s one water fall, in my entire life so far, that was at my complete disposal it was this, the hallucinating Jogi (Photo no 30). Thanks to the punishing rains, there was not a hint of life except Gani, Mr. Dave, Deepak.K and the gang of leeches with the seclusion enjoyed was unexplainable or unseen ever. My mouth was murmuring – Nobody told about her….from Kill bill.
After a quiet photo shoot, it was a run back to the car when I was surprised to see a leech busy moving around on the car’s roof. Annoyed, we waited for it to enter a compromised position to thwart its unreasonable attempt and it was when an old man, with an umbrella hung around his neck, came down the forest path way as we would back in the city square. Initiated a casual conversation and in the process the stranger buddy tempted us with an offer to guide through to Barkana, which we never wanted to under prevailing conditions, and that “something” prompted us to oblige. From Jogi, you got to drive further until you reach a vast meadow and with the help of a local or with an instigation of your instinct you could identify where to begin the trek. As a safety measure, our sudden guide advised to park the car near a desolate home deep in the woods, safety measure?? Thereafter it was a rude diversion into the woods and within the first few meters you’re taken for the ride of your life when the guide points towards a chest deep wild stream, gushing out from higher altitude catchment areas, and asks to follow him (Photo no 9). Exercise extreme caution here and walk as close to each other possible as the possibility of a sudden flash flood could not be ruled out. It’s advisable to carry your camera and related gear above the neck level and concentrate on a firm balance. This crossing was one of the most memorable moments of the Jaunt as we waded through chest deep water under generous rain and the dense vegetation on either side instilled extreme fear. It was a big relief after the first river crossing and our sudden guide offered a bottle of castor oil and tobacco to dress our legs with a thick layer of them. This was only a desperate attempt to repel the leeches as the pouring rain and knee deep water through most of the stretch dissipated the power of our home made leech antibiotic. The path to Barkana is wild, I mean real wild (Photos 12, 21, 26 and 27) and you need to sustain the enthusiasm to reach the view point. The trek to Barkana under once in a lifetime downpour is like a 3Km run on the treadmill at 8 Kms/hour – As you reach 2.2 Kms, the heart cries, legs ache, mouth opens wide, vision blurs and your hand tries to reach the reset button. But you need to sustain, just keep going and it’s a moment where shouldn’t accelerate out of desperation to cover the remaining distance or decelerate out of frustration, just sustain prevailing speed. I could understand how hard we would bite our teeth under such conditions and I would also like to highlight the fact that the last meal we had was 22 hours earlier and we were still walking through blistering wilderness under pouring rain, overwhelming population of leeches and through dangerously broken trees. Unbelievable ambience made me ignorant of an important fact, a fact which I have learnt well in Wayanad couple of times and it was surprising how stupid I had been in planning this hike. Rains in Western Ghats are associated with dense Fog and Barkana spills right across a valley, lying between the range we were walking over and where Barkana descends, and the results were already obvious when it was too late to retreat. Nevertheless, my eyes shed few secret tears when we reached the view point – We just could hear the massive distant roar and the ambience just blew us away. The seducing sound of Barkana, eye hurting gust, visibility inhibiting fog and a constant sprinkle of drizzle made it one of the most romantic moments of our lives. So must have been for the lucky leeches as they kept gaining girth with an ample blood supply. We didn’t bother though, and just kept looking into the opaque fog (Photos 32 and 39)……
I was walking with my mind blank, unable to think or unable to speak. It was a quiet rapid retreat as the rain was at its horrible best and frequently we were forced to stand on the middle of a vegetation dump under the stingy protection of our umbrellas as our bodies were being drenched and sucked beyond threshold. There were occasional prominent growls and we were forced to kick off the painful walk to distant ourselves from the source of such growls. The thought of having to cross those two rapid streams and the thought of having to pass through all we evaded on the way sent a chill down the spine. It was only a matter of utter desperation to get out of the situation we were in that pushed us ahead to cross everything we feared of and in about 120 minutes we made it to the village. Mr. Dave and Gani struck of the last few remaining leeches on their feet and we made a hasty run towards the distant car, parked on a black streak of tarmac piercing through desolate woods and a deserted village. Thrashed that single leech still wandering on my car’s roof to as many pieces possible, dumped the umbrellas and the SLR’s (Mr. Dave has a Nikon and a couple of Nikkor lenses, while I use an EOS 550D with a EF-L 24-105mm F/4) into the already damp boot, locked the doors and switched on the heaters before running away from all we were forced to fear about. When we reached Agumbe the rain still was crazy and the Sunday afternoon added to the existing loneliness. Our mouths tasted food after approximately 25 hours and we ate like dogs as it rained cats and dogs with no let up in intensity. After a wild lunch, it was time to run as fast possible from this wild fantasy towards the safety and comfort of Shimoga town, which was a good 92 Kms away. We didn’t have the need to check out as all our belongings were retained in the boot for the past two days and we just paid the bill amount before running, with our heads bent down to avoid the onslaught of rain, to the car and drove past the only active agent in Agumbe for the last time. That active agent is none other than the special commando forces stationed permanently in Agumbe to pluck of the immature Naxalism raising its heads gradually and nurturing its growth in the depths of unseen Agumbe. I’ve always wondered why the hell we use the word country when we ourselves are fighting against its government and fighting amongst ourselves for various reasons which do have an amicable solution. I strongly endorse the fact that unethical politics have played a major role in prompting such anti-governmental organizations and if there was a way to vent out such uprisings it only could be through an ethical, conscience dictated, broad minded, non-selfish and welfare oriented aggressive political measures. Nevertheless, I consider my encounter with a rapid action force commando with an automatic weapon pointing right on me when I wandered of the path to Onake Abe and entered their fortified bunker, the way I blinked when he expedited me to answer in Hindi or Kannada, both of which were foreign to me, and how he fearfully shouted to stop outside the safety perimeter confused over the bulky “L” series lens projecting over my shoulder as the most hilarious moment of this Jaunt. It was a matter of life and death to them and I understood his rude approach as we gradually established rapport with Mr. Dave’s amateur Kannada. Bid goodbye to Agumbe for the first time and drove in pursuit of Hotel Jewel Rock in Shimoga to heal our broken bodies, stinking mouths and dried out legs. One thing that couldn’t be healed by whatever modern civilization had to offer was the Broken Heart though – Agumbe owns it now. Reached Shimoga by nightfall and the availability of an air-conditioned suit brought relief like never before. That night was as relaxing as sleeping with a tight hug from your favorite woman and the soft white bed heeled pain under erotic darkness. Not to forget the extremely cold and excessively bubbling beer I had before going to bed, for that “after two days - mind relaxing sleep”. The next morning and subsequent days were rendered meaningless……………….I was alone - sleeping alone, eating alone, driving alone, working alone and most of the time, staring into the air…….thinking about her…..
Note: As of July/2011, Agumbe had reportedly been declared the second wettest place in India, with Kollur winning the title, during the SW monsoon of 2011. I understand then, why we were thrashed by the rain and made to run for cover during the entire course of this jaunt. From Shimoga, it was a lonely drive to Chennai and we dropped Mr. Dave on the way @ Bangalore, from where Ms. Rain accompanied me and Gani for the next 340 Kms. Once back home, on the early hours of July/26, I could do nothing but sit in the corner darkness of my room and keep thinking about her – My mouth was murmuring – Please don’t try to find her, she’s not there –from Kill Bill. Three years back Sultan Bathery altered my life and now, Agumbe had extended that alteration to a level not comprehendible by an average brain.
Agumbe has exhausted the entire creativity in me, in just one trip…..
Parameters
Route-Chennai-Vellore-Hosur-Bangalore-Tumkur-Gubbi-Tiptur-Arsikere-Kadur-Tarikere-Bhadravati-Shimoga-Teerthahalli-Agumbe. (765 Kms)
Best Time to Visit - Mid June-Mid Sep, if you want to see and enjoy the best moments of nature, though you would need to forego basic comforts. Late Oct - Mid Feb, if you want to camp inside the forest and go on the trail of Mr. King.
Specialties - Rains like you'll never see in your lifetime (Not all could afford Lloro, Colombia or Mawsynram, India), mesmerizing depths of dense rain forests, Naxalism induced thrill, anytime anything kind of risk, war zone like nights, pristine green meadows and heaven like dawns.
What you should do - Travel light with only essentials, give your best to spot the King, trek to Jogi, Onake Abe and Barkana under pouring rain, enjoy the nights with a bottle of Vodka/white rum and to book a stay in Shimoga or Udupi if you travel with women or cannot withstand the onslaught.
Don't Forget - To capture everything on your camera, early morning walk under heavy downpour and fog to watch the countryside unwind, carry a generous volume of Castor oil, tobacco and common salt to fight the leeches, air tight plastic bags to carry the SLR/lens, to carry an umbrella for every member and hug tight your woman under pouring rain in the middle of rain forest region with only an umbrella for company :)
