One never encounters its true beauty. In retrospect, it is known to be the misty village
on the slopes of Piduruthalagala and therefore, seclusion from the regular
traveller. The trip, limited to two guys,
in an ancient SUV on a bright August morning. The sun was blissfully shinning,
blessing us to enjoy the journey despite the forecast of constant misty rains
at our destination.
Setting towards Kandy before sunrise, diverting
from Peradeniya to Galaha, Rikillagaskada and turning right towards Nuwara
Eliya was an absolutely pleasurable drive. To one’s left far away were the
Knuckles Mountains and then the forests of the Loolecondera tea estate with the
Piduruthalagala mountain range to the right. A four-hour drive with breakfast
at a thosai kade (eatery) in Galaha and another one and a half hour drive to
the village of Mandaramnuwara were filled with exhilaration coupled with adventurous
mindsets. Our route to Nuwara Eliya was known to be used by bullock carts for the
transportation of goods to the hill station during colonial times. Hence, it’s
called the “Carter road” (karaththa para).
Mandaram-nuwara, its town and
inhabitants portrayed a hospitable atmosphere. The Villagers’ main income is
through traditionally practised farming and cultivation. But to our dismay
found that living off a trishaw is more lucrative on the shorter run and easy gains
for some lazy villagers. When vaguely explained, we were beyond comprehension
for lack of logic and realized the perils of commercialization. Sacrilegious,
from our point of view. But, theirs could be different for reasons best known
to them.
However, to fulfil our escapade, we required
to venture into the mountains shrouded in thick jungle. A guide possessing a thorough
knowledge of the surrounding was our requirement and village folk were willing
to assist with enthusiasm. We selected one that was voluntarily introduced to
us by the rest of the people in town. Ironically, another trishaw driver. Thankfully,
with a better attitude than the metropolis driver one tends to encounter on a
daily basis in the city. His elderly uncle (mama) opted to join us. We were educated
of his capabilities and knowledge in and of the forest, acquired through
experience. Apparently the uncle has encountered leopards lurking in the
vicinity due to the inhabitants of the farmland. Its main prey is supposedly
the stray dog, abundantly available in the vicinity.
The hike, I like to call it, was tiring.
Breathtaking mountains and tranquil environs forced us to forge ahead.
Freshwater springs emerge throughout our walk and we kept filling our empty bottles
to quench our thirst. Wild fruit we have never seen or eaten before were given
to taste. A few were sweet and juicy and others were sour and bitter although
nourishing. The villagers, venturing into the woods rely on the fruit for
sustenance and the “mama” was ample evidence to prove it. He was 82 years of
age and ascended the hills with no extra effort or break. We took our quota of
ridiculously long pauses to the hilarity of our guides.
Two hours into the hike the obvious
path ends and the footpath scatters at which point one could easily lose track.
An enormous waterfall, gushing and splashing was our reward. The hike’s end was
the point where the fall ceases. The lush pool at its base created by cascading
water was sublime. Crystal clear icy water and virgin jungle accompanied by the
resonance of streams flowing through shrub and rock was
indeed a “sight and sound” to rejuvenate our tired and battered bodies. A dip
it was and an enjoyably refreshing one at that.
Towards midday, the mist was
threatening to engulf us and our retreat was in haste for fear of losing our tracks.
Bidding adieu to the village folk was not an easy task for the wanting of more
information connected to this mystique land. They were
willing to share their experiences. Our time was terribly limited. The
discovery of an actual Tarzan was a phenomenon. He was a minute of a man, chiselled,
never visits a town, rarely speaks and always lives off the forest whilst
protecting it from nefarious intruders trying to destroy it. Obviously sceptical
of our presence, demanded an explanation. Once confessed, he initiated the
discussion. He was an impressive character with a sense of ruggedness, humour,
sincerity and seriousness. To me, he was the real deal Sri Lankan native veddah,
bushman, environmentalist and Tarzan.
The trip was in one day. The mist
eventually covered the whole village and all the beautiful surroundings were like
a ghost… gone. Nonetheless, the experience lingers on. The discoveries of the
forest mountains of Piduruthalagala, untouched waterfalls, the traditional
farmer, the uncle and the Sri Lankan Tarzan was unparalleled to any other trip
I have taken upon myself to indulge. Sri Lanka, I believe, possesses many a
hiker’s dream destinations and I’m all out to venture. Cos, they could all be
uniquely different.
Till then!
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