On a sunny morning we set foot for our last hike up small
Adams peak before catching the train to Hatton. Train
journeys are nothing like the ones in India except the
dresses the ladies wear. The trains are clean, on time (dutch
railways eat your heart out), the rails are clean and people
don’t fight for a seat and ticket. We depart Ella and have
one more look into the gap, one more look at falls and go
into new landscapes filled with tea plantations everywhere
you look. Nice tea bubbles in the landscapes. Nice curly
lines all the way to the horizon. On the various stations we
pass, people board quietly. The Forrest changes every half
hour as climate in mountains changes. Pines, oaks, all are
well represented. Clouds sometimes change the ever blue
colour of the sky until we reach noon when white and grey are
the dominant colours. Tunnels are passed by the dozen,
everyone of them is a reason for locals to start screaming
and hearing their echo, until the rolling hills let them show
themselves again once back in the light. Villages of ten to
hundreds of houses pass by, kids waving, foodfolks get in try
to sell their load. Once in Hatton my way out of the train is
blocked by somebody getting in. As I’m not moving back, the
guy quickly moves back on to the platform so I can descend.
Then we are approached first by hotel tout who presents us
two hotel cards without any other selling techniques used.
Then a tuctuc driver approaches us trying to sell a ride to
dalhousie for 1300 rupees, but quickly goes down to 1000
rupees. “yes sir, bus takes 2 hours and you have to wait
before bus arrives. Tuctuc only takes one hour”. As I’m
making my way to the exit I see the bus already waiting right
outside. The tuctuc driver quickly disappears search for
possible other victims. On the way to dalhousie no tuctuc
passes us, actually not one single vehicle passes us. The
busdriver drives as a maniac, horning small busses off the
road, ignore other approaching busses. He just wants to get
to dalhousie as quick as possible. A large part of the
journey we have to stand, which makes this busride of 70
rupees each a very cheap fancyfair attraction where we are
shaken sufficiently, holding tightly. After 70 minutes we
arrive in Dalhousie. Just before arriving a lady steps in the
bus, who with magical sweet words lures  us into her
hotel. A cheap place, with a leaking roof, but also a balcony
with a view on the white house. Dalhousie itself is a
collection of shops for local pilgrims, preparing their
journey to the top of Adams peak. Or for them: Sri pada.
Tomorrow our journey begins at 2 a.m.
10/3/2013