Kudremukha Trek with Officers of Goa!

“Whence all creation had its origin,
he, whether he fashioned it or whether he did not,
he, who surveys it all from highest heaven,
he knows - or maybe even he does not know” ~ Nasadiya sukta, Rig Veda

The immortal words of Vedas, as enunciated in Nehru’s discovery of India, perhaps best describes man’s Fascination with nature.

He was born onto it, and will someday assimilate into it.

The Timeless expanses of Mountains, the everlasting sky, the Mute Trees, the Wind, the glorious sun, often provide us with glimpse of how small we are.

There is an incredible call of the wild and of nature, which engulfs mind every now and then, culminating in Manly pursuits like hunting, hiking, bird watching or plain farming.

Never to hurt animals, and shorn of meticulousness which bird watching demands, I have taken to hiking very naturally.

Which is why, perhaps, on first week of January-2017, a trek was planned by us officers of Goa.

The venue was fixed for Kudremukha, a Horse-face shaped mountain peak at 1872 Meters in Western Ghats.

This particular peak had been elusive all my life, with various sets of friends unable to make it at multiple occasions, or the appropriate permissions becoming too difficult to manage at certain times.

I and Damodar worked in perfect sync, with me tying up with local administration to facilitate local transfers upto Forest IB at Navooru, while Damodar enabled Forest department's Logistics and permissions to scale the peak.

It was a perfect tango, seldom achieved, ensuring we'd get a chance to eventually trek Kudremukha trail,even though it was now closed for trekkers and commoners.

I and Damodar meticulously planned the route, some 450kms away; and made delicate plans to traverse it through combinations of Rail, Taxi and Forest Jeeps.

As a bonus, we got to climb 1200 meters through a virgin route from Navooru, instead of 800 meters from Mullodi, which commoners get to explore.
This route was strictly for forest officials only, but thanks to Damodar we could explore it with forest Department guides.

This time, as usual, people were scouted for, and out of a universal SET of 15, eventually only five, devoid of myriad permutations of family existence impeding such forays, managed to turn up.

Many pleaded wives birthdays’ and some ignored my calls on whatsapp for joining us.

But those who joined us were fantastic bunch!

Raghavendra, a young Customs IRS officer,was zealous, youthful and very excited about trip.

Slightly built, portly , and devoid of signs of exercise, he was anything but natural candidate for trip, but his enthusiasm, zeal and fervor made up for it.

Mehtab Ahmed, a Kashmiri, and Customs IRS himself, looked much fitter, a vestige of his Naval Background and Mountainous descent.

Sunil , my cousin, was a regular, and as with innumerable previous trips, he had little choice lest he'd incur my wrath. He had aged badly, developed avanular belly, but has stayed fit nevertheless.

Damodar is an IFoS officer, and since we first met in Goa, has turned out to be one of my finest friends.

Both share the zeal for nature, and exhibit aggressiveness onto all things,frequently incurring wrath of jealous seniors and sly politicians.

The Main transit mechanism was decided upon as Konkan railway. 
Dingy, dirty and uninspiring, the train dulled my expectations as I reached Madgaon platform on a Friday Noon.

Mehtab , Damodar and Ragava joined me and Sunil soon after, and the rickety train set sail soon.

We sat at un-designated seats, since Damodar reckoned that train would be largely empty, and that seats would be readily exchangeable.

We sat together in this rickety and dirty train, but were in for pleasant surprise.

For all its faults, it traversed rough terrain of western coast at incredible speeds, sometimes shaking uncontrollably, saving us 4 hours other wise taken if we had traversed via Road.
IT was incredible fun.
The open windows, smelly bathrooms, and dirty seats didnt dull the fun, as we started chatting , while twilight sun tweaked through its rusted windows.

As it caved through dark tunnels,uneasiness and claustrophobia engulfed us, and dissappeared when we'd reappear onto light, at varying timelines.

Damodar, a Teetotaller gifted with excessive gab, talked his way though utter nonsense, as I hoped that sunset befell soon upon us. Eventually, as he Finished my “Appy Fizz” drink ,I grabbed the empty bottle and signaled Sunil. The portly man refused to acknowledge my signs, and stayed put.

Angry glare finally did it, as he overcame apprehensions of TTC around, and went upto a loo to fill up our empty bottle with “OLD MONK” rum.

I was not expecting any one to sip it.

I was wrong.

It was over before long, and numerous "refills" were resorted to.

Sure enough, we all got pretty drunk, and were noticed by avuncular and jealous men alongside us through glares.

Chatting, gossiping and pretty much being merry, we reached Udupi Railway station 40 minutes late.

At Udupi station we found Tehsildar of Udupi, one nice gentleman, who quickly ushered us into waiting Innova(s).

We had dinner in the fantastic Atila Restaurant, gobbling up delicious fish, curries and “neer dosas”. 

Having paid nothing, (Felt guilty about that) thanks to one Shilpa Nag IAS’s reference, we then waded through frosty nights.

Lads were chatting heavily, while I fell asleep at 11 pm, only to wake up half an hour later.

Maneuvering through derelict forested roads, we crossed abandoned dams and dilapidated gates to reach a forest guest house. We were greeted by a smiling caretaker, who'd lead us onto decent, basic and Spartan rooms. 

Having got quickly out of car, I had good sight of rooms before others, and selected a decent chamber.

Me, Damadar and Sunil settled for one room as Mehtab and Raghava went into smaller room.

We hardly had time to appraise the room in midst of this wilderness, as we fell asleep.

Damodar woke up strangely at midnight, mysteriously searching for something with his mobile torch, inviting scorn and giggles from me and Sunil.
Later the man revealed that one has to search for snakes/spiders before laying down.
Why he did that search in middle of night after 30 minutes of sleep was never explained!

I fell quickly asleep, aided no less bythe sturdy earplugs protecting me from Onerous Snores of Sunil.

I was rudely awakened by Damodar pulling away my protective sheath, i.e. blanket, inviting my loud remonstrations.

Damodar, however, was made of sterner stuff.

He forced himself into bathroom, and with total disregard to others, lock himself and not emerge even after repeated pleadings.

Eventually we all gave up, and got ready to depart, packing only essential items for the trek ahead!

A sugary tea was quickly slurped up, as we sighted a commander jeep with forest guard ramesh and guide krishnappa backing up our courtyard.

We all jostled for space as we crammed up together to have pictures taken with the Jeep, the object of our fascination.

This jeep was to deliver us upto the Drop off point, from where Trek was to be attempted on foot.

Cold wintry air beat through our windcheaters, as the Jeep traversed through impossible paths, climbing up onto heavily forested hillocks.

The Jeep got us up through around 300 meters in elevation, before we hit a blockade on the road.
It was an old tree which had crashed ominously on the road.



All were disheartened that our joy ride came to end, but not Damodar!

Heroically, and true to his simian instincts, Damodar climbed up a sidebank and tried to shove it out of the way, before he realized the merits of team work. 

Soon, we employed strategy, and much in the way we humans have conquered nature, Co-Operated, and shoved it collectively out the way.

Joyously, we took a victory parade atop the fallen tree, and jostled back into the Jeep.

Nevertheless, an impregnable corner in forest soon blocked our way, and our valiant jeep driver gave up. Ramesh urged him, rather naively, to trudge through some more, which was vainly attempted to no avail.

We then got down, took some more pictures, and admired our jeep which had grown in stature of an HUMVEE in our minds! A strange bonding of Man and Machine overwhelmed us, and we climbed all over it in admiration and fondness, taking pictures.

From there on, we were on OUR OWN, ON FOOT!
Lay ahead were miles of forested territory, to be traversed through by sickle wielding Krishnappa and his merry men.

The route opened up initially onto a nicely abandoned cobblestone path.

There were no leeches, the arch enemy I despised so much, but have over years gotten used to.

Emboldened, we trudged on, loosing track of time.
Heavy breathing, sweat, mundane thoughts are your friends during treks.



Your eyes have to be solidly on the ground, and one misstep can spell doom, and it is no exaggeration to claim it.

Initial stretches barely challenged me, as doctor quickly fell behind along with Sunil.

I would have expected doctor’s age to benefit him, but it wasn’t to be, and his fitness levels gave it away.

We slowly clocked up elevation, as was registered on my trusted Casio; an object of frequent queries by others.

I realized that we weren’t making so much aerial distance as we were doing lateral.

Nevertheless, krishnappa seemed gay, and least bothered about us as he sprinted with disdain, leaving wide gaps between me and him. 
By now, there was at least a 100 meters difference b/w head and tail of our hiking group.

We came across “dungs/Poops” of various contortions and descent, much to our delight and fascination, and also a constant remainder that we weren't alone out here.

I and krishnappa quickly paced a few meters ahead of pack, and stopped quickly when we came across a carcass of a wild cat. Partly feeling sorry for the animal, we all reluctantly gathered around it, took pictures, speculated as to what killed it.

Most guesses converged around a Black panther, who having cracked his skull, left it for mysterious reasons.

Having no time to waste, we moved on.

Raghava was puffing profusely by now. It surprised me as he was a doctor and very young.

Damodar, the wry critic that he was, never wasted an opportunity to joke about Raghava increasing bottom cleavage, as his pants seemed to strangely drop down as time went on.

More jokes followed, with absurd theories reckoning that it was not his pants which had dropped down but the bottom which had moved up!

Damodar meanwhile had noticed that Sunil’s pace had picked up, and theorized that bottom cleavage of Raghava ahead of him was motivational factor.

Chuckles and giggles followed, and camaraderie and team work, so essential to morale of group, was reinforced through bonding.

We came across beautiful formations of rocks, and wasted no time to gather around to take pictures. 

The consensus was, and rightly so, that pictures were high priority, for they would remind us of times gone by, many years from now. 

And my past experiences with various treks, immortalized through words in blogs, further reinforced that feeling.

The lack of blood sucking leeches, snakes or any other immediate disturbances made the trek leisurely, and also facilitated such pursuits.

As Forested regions cleared up, and Shola grasslands revealed themselves, it was a remarkable sight to see!

The sun, the wind, the fresh air, and above all, the sight of majestic mountains of varying etymologies, shapes made it magical.

The grasslands in treks often signalled end of “Leech-zone”, and of dangerous animals. It was also the signal of hard sun beating on neck, and long hours of strenuous climbs.

We often had to wait for the pack to catch up with us, mostly for safety reasons, and took the opportunity to click some more photos.

Raghava at one time opted to sleep through in a photo, possibly due to immense exhaustion.

Raghava’s motivation was frequently upped by promises of a Breakfast break nearby.

Pitying his condition, soon enough, we stopped at a beautiful stream and krishnappa magically opened up his bag to reveal succulent Idlis and chutney!

The prospect of such delicious meal bought glee to our faces, while Raghavaendra felt like chotta bheem who had been shown a Laddoo!

Krishnappa , offered us plates full of idlis and chutney in a respectable manner, as we laid around rocks and lapped it all up.

Washing hands at stream nearby and even drinking water upstream was constant reminder that clean water was offered by nature, and that it was human intervention which had polluted rivers, ground water and made it toxic elsewhere.

Forest guard ramesh, who bought up our rear, was frequently summoned to click pictures, something he did rather reluctantly and with overbearing sense of false dignity. He seemed to be totally exhausted as well, surprising since he was in a vocation which demanded physical vigour.

Soon, as we moved in twisted contortions of virgin paths along valleys of mountains, an ominous looking mountain appeared from back ground.

It was the kudremukha, we were quickly pointed to by krishnappa.

I raced across to have a solitary picture taken with it, before Damodar, who derives sadistic pleasure in spoiling pictures, photo bombed me.

Nevertheless, it was satisfying to have whole gang now appraised of ultimate goal, by visual sight.

Raghava wasted no time to lay down, play dead, and refuse to move until repeated pleadings.

We then were sucked into forested reasons, and crossed numerous beautiful streams.

Streams meant cool water, pleasure, but also meant blood sucking leeches.

However, we found no leeches all along the route, which was probably a first in my trekking experience.

Philosophical thoughts that mountains, streams and winds flow eternal, oblivious to developments of mankind, found little audience as Damodar was more interested in “Chikki” in his bag.

We then found huge hillocks which quickly separated men from boys, as I found myself with krishnappa hundreds of meters ahead of the pack.

Damodar, not the one to stay behind, decided to scale up , and soon enough he was leading up front.

We overtook an exhausted krishnappa, and marched ahead.

The Hot sun baked us thoroughly, and I almost had a migraine.

Years of physical endeavour, Gym, Diet and pursuit of virility above all else definitely kept me ahead of the pack, much younger in age.

It was a source of immense satisfaction, dry self Affirmation and motivation to keep doing what I did all my life.

Later, Damodar gave up the relentless march, and opted to stay with Mehtab who had the prized camera, and took hundreds of pictures at one spot, in various different poses.

I and Krishnappa, now assured that the whole pack was out of danger, and couldn’t be lost if left behind, decided to race to the top.

We climbed an enormous hillock, catapulting us around 300 meters in a couple of minutes.

We now could see the peak within a KM.

I urged krishnappa to make a break for the peak,partly relishing prospects of solitary photos up there.

Krishnappa instead prodded me to take a detour to the right and fancied seeing a abandoned house and a waterfall.

I relented, and followed him to find a abandoned British bungalow , totally dilapidated, and covered with creepers and plants. 
It was perhaps, at one time, testimony to British adventurism, and relentless pursuit to colonize strange lands.

Krishnappa informed that a British family used to reside here, and travelled up and down with horses.

I could readily imagine why the location, through remote, had been preferred.

Exotic plantations, salubrious climate imitating England, waterfalls nearby, or plain British eccentricity, aloofness and stuffiness perhaps lured them in.

I couldn’t hide my fondness for the British spirit, and I quietly offered a prayer or two for their fallen souls, if any, nearby.

The waterfall nearby offered ice cold water which I used to wet my hat, wash the face, and generally cleanse myself.

My forays into waterfall, on foot, on misplaced confidence in my new shoes, were quickly checked by krishnappa, who warned me of slippery rocks.

Not to take chances, I quit.

We then readily climbed up, found Damodar and gang resting on rocks.

Now, Damodar is known mostly for his good behaviour and kindness, has some queer eccentricities too.

One of them is hoarding food purportedly bought for the group consumption, and eating nonchalantly with total disregard to other members.

We found him munching away on chikki, despite pleas from Raghava to dispense some to him, none except a few scraps were let out.

Eventually, we all chided Damodar, who takes criticism much like a glass, as he continued doing his thing.

However, in the end, the whole matter was a source of good fun, jokes and conversation.

Raghava by now was looking like a pale duck, and life was running out from him

His gait resembled that of an old aunt’s after a meal.

Up ahead, we could see the peak , in all its glory, and we quickly buckled up for the final run.

I and Sunil decided to break for the peak, while rest of pack succumbed to krishnappa’s suggestions that bags may be dropped at a shade nearby.

The final few meters are ecstatic, and only an avid climber knows how it feels to reach a peak.

It is a mix of happiness and moroseness.

Happiness that objective was achieved, nearby creation could be viewed with glory and narcissistic self satisfaction, while moroseness sets in while you realize its all OVER.

It’s a strange mix that perhaps succeeds an orgasm; happiness and guilt.

As the pack joined up on the peak, each one seemed to have found his personal peace.

Mehtab went reclusive, and sat far apart, listening to songs.

Damodar went, true to his simian ways, helter skelter.

Raghava perhaps grew more concerned in climbing back down.

I went into deep (Often distracted) meditative poses.

Sunil checked his underwear for leech bites, and so on.

Eventually all took fantastic pictures up the peak, and untied the shoes.

We dressed up minor bruises, cuts and scrapes with our elementary First Aid kit, and generally decided to lay around.

Now the forest dept’s people were amused and surprised that we’d make it so far, so easily.

Educated lot that we were, fitness wasn’t supposed to be natural to us.

However, we were a pack apart!

Pictures in numerous permutations of postures followed, and one was even taken jumping up together.

It is always a challenge to capture the mood of the occasion, and pictures, ritually taken, staring poker faced onto camera, often but give a poor glimpse of it.

Candid pictures are much better, but that requires a specially trained self effacing photographer that is hard to come by.

We climbed down despite Mehtab’s pleas that we lie around for couple more hours, and had a sumptuous lunch of Pulav, again magically drawn out from krishna’s bag, at a shade nearby.

The lunch was delicately packed in biodegradable banana leaves, which offered clean yet fresh food.

Devouring lunch, we again packed our bags and prepared to descend, when ramesh surprised us by calling JEEP to Mullodi. It was like descent cut short by half, and a short route home.

None of us were so exhausted as to contemplate this shortcut, nor were we late in schedule.

Ramesh, it later turned out, called in the JEEP for his own good, as he had twisted his ankle badly.

Either way, with little choice, we descended the mountains.

I and Damodar decided to scamper down, almost falling in carefree manner, whilst others took a more guarded approach. 

We reckoned that descending slowly would exhaust our muscles, who’d be spending energy to fight gravity.

Sunil was descending very slowly, and so was Raghava.

Meanwhile, there is something about forest which becomes intimidates you as sun withdraws its luminescence.

As evening fell, Damodar and I found marching way ahead, and I, for the first time, felt insecure as apprehensions of animal attacks and losing the way loomed large.

Eventually we gathered up around a huge tree, ruminating about large rocks and timeless geography.

Ramesh limped past us, probably scampering towards forest camp nearby, to save his derelict body.

We joined up with rest of pack, and made it to camp at 4 30 PM, only to find our JEEP parked up the alley!

Raghava let out shrieks of joy as he cried ecstatically at the sight of JEEP, which probably was life saver to him.

The hard part of trip almost over, our thoughts now gravitated towards a quick drink or two.

Therefore, the consensus of opinion was to quickly mount the jeep and make way towards home, perhaps picking up a beer or two on the way.

Sunil was first to sit in jeep, and sure enough the jeep creaked and sputtered as we went along.

The jeep started making noises, cause was swiftly found by driver as a broken rig on wheel, and Sunil’s weight was unanimously blamed as culprit.

Nevertheless, we went along, picked up beers at a quaint location, and got drunk quickly inside the jeep.

Damodar, as usual, indulged in cacophonous nonsense, sometimes miss-Identifying basic trees along the way, much to the delight of his forest staff like driver.

Hours rolled by, as we descended through forested tracks, finally reaching our forested IB at 7 Pm.

We were welcomed by gleeful caretaker, additionally buoyed by sight of our non-empty Rum bottles that we had managed to bring back.

We quickly took warm bath, heated by delicate mechanism of wood kiln in adjoining room. The hot water accumulated in a tavern, and was magically hot without immediate visual source of heat.

The warm bath did wonders to our broken bodies, as we requested caretaker Chandra to arrange a Campfire.

Campfire is a mandatory ritual for us trekking, with drinking and general merriment as an assortment.

As fire set in, reminiscences followed.

Damodhar got into a verbal spat with Raghava when he was designated by later as a lookalike of one “Kashinath”, an erstwhile kannada actor.

Now kashinath was known for his rebellious movies, and B grade soft porn of the times.  He was a tragic-comic hero seldom appreciated by most.

Damodhar differed vehemently, protesting that he resembled like Akshay kumar instead.

Meanwhile, Mehtab broke into mad laughter after he managed to google for images of kashinath.

Damodhar, perhaps to distract from losing battle, started ruminating how IAS was vastly superior service, and that other services narrow down in vision over time.

As fire fizzled out, we got drunk beyond pale, and lapped up bangda fish so delicately prepared by Chadra’s at his home.

There is a distinct gentleness, finesse and civility to men of these parts, known  as malanaadu, and we all admired it grudgingly.

We then headed back to dinner table, where Chandra was waiting like anxious mom over food.

Later we found out that his main interest was the left-Over “OLD MONK” rum available with us.

As we finished dinner, we went to bed, and vague drunken instructions were passed to Chandras to reappear next morning with breakfast, and so on.

Next Morning, anxiety set in as vehicle ordered for from Tehsildar Karkala hadn’t arrived.

Adding to misery was lack of any telecom signal to facilitate coordination.

The absolute bummer was that chandras, the caretaker, wasn’t to be seen anywhere either.

We quickly blamed OLD monk, and by corollary Damodhar, who had gifted it to Chandra earlier night, for the trouble.

Luckily, a vehicle appeared soon, guided by well meaning Samaritan of the area.

We all jumped into the jeep, and again gifted an “OLD TAVERN” bottle to now gleaming chandra, and left the IB.

Fighting over time to reach Udupi station, we reached it at 8 45 am, and well in time.

We had disgusting idlis and buns at hotel nearby, thanks to Damodar’s insistence, and reached the platform.

At platform, we exchanged photos, and Mehtab frequently broke out into delirious bouts of laughter over Damodar’s inability to use his “GIFTED” Iphone.

Not to loose an opportunity, I reminded everyone how gifted things like vehicles and phones to incompetent people are dangerous to world at large.

Cursing everyone, Damodar and gang finally alighted our bullet train back to civilization, which was incidentally 30 minutes late.

A fantastic trip and a remarkable sojourn, so essential in these stressful times, thus came to an end!