The condition of road on the first few kilometres of Peta ghat is horrendous. The first two kilometres is in such a bad shape that it took us 20 minutes to go through it. Probably the road was being black-topped and the contractor had left the job half done. Bare boulders lay scattered on the road and threatened to rip the tyres if we tried moving faster on them. To add to the woe of the commuters there are two hairpin bends with high gradient, passing which without falling off the two wheeler can be considered an achievement in itself . Somehow we passed the stretch unscathed. The morning was young and the air felt crisp as it feels on a winter morning in Koraput. We stopped at a few places to take shots of the landscapes. This road also happens to be the road which we used to take while coming from or going to Padua. But this road was a less frequented road in those days and we usually came on our Rajdoot. The Rajdoot my father rides (he still rides it) is a 1980 Rajdoot. It carried four of us, Baba, Maa, Sidhu and me effortlessly up the Peta ghat. If Baba and me happened to go together I used to sit on the tank. On long straight stretches Baba would let me hold the handle and the throttle. I would be thrilled to twist the throttle and the 175 cc Rajdoot would gallop on the open roads. And now I was riding a Royal Enfield on the same old roads alone. The landscape on the plateau is strikingly similar to the English country side. Fields of niger seed, paddy and raagi interspersed with lines of cashew, eucalyptus and other such trees give the countryside a resemblance to the countryside of a few European nations. Every dirt track that diverged from the main road was an invitation good enough to leave the road I was travelling on and go where ever the dirt track went. Wish I could do that.
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| A Lovely Morning near the Back Waters of Kolab Reservoir |
8.30 am saw us at Lamtaput. Lamtaput is a big village which is also the head quarter of the administrative block by the same name. Like many such villages of Koraput, Lamtaput too has its share of government offices and residential quarters for the staffs who serve in them. Apart from this there are a few shops that cater to the basic need of people of the village and the villages around. The entire village is full of sky high eucalyptus trees. The eucalyptus trees are laden with thousands of fruit bats during the day time and are quite a spectacle. The bats rest on these trees, upside down and their wing flaps covering their face during day light. We photographed the birds. My school friend named Sandeep Patnaik works for a NGO and stays at Lamtaput. I had informed him of our visit earlier and he was ready to accompany us to Duduma. We went to his house where he introduced us to his colleagues and room mates. They also expressed their amazement when we told them that we have arrived there on Royal Enfields from as far a place as Bhubaneswar. Four of his colleagues also joined us for Duduma. We went back to the market place of Lamtaput where we took our break fast.
Puri and upma served with chutney and ghuguni in a leaf bowl(dana) was good enough to appease our hunger. Coming out of the hotel we see that Udyan's Thunderbird is nowhere to be seen. Nearly 15 men had surrounded his bike and were making their expert comments on the make and build of the Thunderbird.
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| The Bats of Lamtaput |
At 10.30 am we start for Duduma via Machkund. On the way we crossed a weekly haat. Haats in Koraput are usually a very colourful place. Especially the ladies come to the haat in their strikingly colourful clothes. I let Sandeep ride my Classic so that I could enjoy the landscape around. There are several coffee plantations on the way from Lamtaput to Machkund and the coffee from Koraput has a demand of its own in the market ,some people say. While on the way Sandeep and me discussed his work and the prevailing anarchy in the region. On the way a bus coming from behind kept honking at us and when we left way for it to pass I saw, to my utter surprise, a bus full of Bengali tourists. In the given circumstances when people from Jeypore and Koraput fear to visit Duduma, a bus full of Bengali tourists was there. They must have all the way from West Bengal to Koraput through Odisha. I wonder if there is any nook left on the map of India that has not been visited by a
babu moshay. When tour operators from West Bengal can arrange tours to the so called remote places of our state then what is stopping our own tour operators to include these places in their itinerary. After crossing the village of Machkund we drove along the reservoir banks for some distance. The check dam on the river Machkund/Sileru has given birth to a beautiful water body and water to the Machkund Hydro Electric Power Plant is diverted from here. We did a customary stoppage there as "tourists" usually do. Then we started our down hill descent into the Machkund river gorge along with the river. There came the awe-inspiring vista of the gorge. A few stops again were mandatory. I had this wish to go to the bottom of Duduma waterfall since the time I came here last time. The visit was a brief one that time and I did not have the time to trek down the waterfall. Hence we decided to go to the view point beyond Ankadelli village and return along with some refreshments from Ankadelli village to trek to the bottom of the waterfall.
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| Coffee Plantation en-route Machkund |
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| The Dam on River Machkund : Upstream View |
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The Dam on River Machkund : Downstream View
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| Power Channel that carries water to the Hydro-station |
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| The Awe-inspiring Vista of Machkund Gorge |
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While passing through the Ankadelli village we saw a few Bonda women, but as there is restrictions on clicking their photographs now we went ahead straight to the view point. The view point is on the shoulder of the mountain on the western side of the gorge. We clicked a few photographs there. The view point is the regular pit stop for all the visitors and hence was littered like a garbage dump. Polythene wrappers, cigarette packs, broken liquor bottles and what not. The mountain on the other side of the gorge is in Andhra Pradesh and has thick blanket of forest on the slopes and. The river is flowing in the valley below in the shape of a serpent. What a view. To the north is visible the waterfall and the penstocks(nothing but large pipes that convey water from reservoir to the turbines)of the Machkund Hydro-power Station. An electric winch that dates back to the British Era runs parallel to these penstocks and is quite functional till now. I have heard, from many people who have used this winch, about the scary experience of descending in that age old winch. Not too long ago while traveling in the winch a few people have also seen tigers and leopards in the forest that surrounds the penstocks. Unfortunately I never have had the opportunity to use that dreaded winch. Machkund Hydro-electric Power Station was the brainchild of some British administrator. The work on the dam and power house started much before independence but it was not until 1955 the generators were commissioned to generate electricity. The generated power is shared between Andhra Pradesh and Odisha in a 60-40 ratio as the reservoir is spread across both the states. The village of Anakadelli is the small township for the employees of the power station. Most of the staff are employed by Andhra Pradesh Power Generation Corporation and are Telugu. Therefore there is regular bus service to Vizag and Vizianagarm from Anakadelli.
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| The Snaking Machkund River |
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| Panoramic View of the Gorge |
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| Sandeep and his colleague |
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| The Wanderer |
After satisfying our eyes with those sumptuous vista we went back to Ankadelli village to purchase some refreshments that were necessary for the arduous trek. A few packets of biscuits and a few pouches of drinking water were all that we thought would be necessary. Then we went to the small cottage situated on the ridge from where the trek to the bottom of the fall starts. We parked our bikes there and started our walk downhill. The district administration has taken a lot of pain to construct concrete stairs half way down. This definitely has made life easier for many. As it happens often when you trek downhill after a long time, my legs started trembling and shaking. Thanks to the steep gradient. When the stairs end one needs to take to a well beaten track that leads to the bottom of the waterfall. Walking on this track was a little difficult, at least for me. The mud path had worn smooth by the barefoot of the fishermen who use this track frequently and the dew from the canopy above had made it a little slippery. I had to be a little extra cautious as I had a twisted left ankle to watch out for which I had injured a few months ago. I could not have risked another damage to the already damaged ligament. I could see the snowy white colour of the stream from within the gaps in the canopy. Finally we reached the bottom.
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Here let me tell you something about Duduma waterfalls. Duduma waterfall is on the river Machkund/Sileru. The waterfall on the main river is 175 mtr high and is classified as a horsetail type waterfall(waterfalls that fan out as they drop down). This falls ranks 19th among the waterfalls of India in terms of height. Apart from the main Machkund river another stream that flows from Andhra Pradesh side also plunges into the same gorge as the river. The excess water that could not be utilized by the Machkund Hydro-electric station is also released into this same pool. This artificial stream is most beautiful of the three and is not to be seen throughout the year though. The only place from where the view of the three waterfalls together can be enjoyed is the place where I stood. Three of the gorgeous falls pouring their grandeur onto me. Mighty walls of rock surround the place on three sides and the river has licked its way through the rocks on the other remaining one side. I leave it to my pictures to convey what my words cannot. I clicked, videogrpahed , thoroughly enjoyed and literally soaked in the beauty of the place. Then it was time for a bath. The pools of the river were never a safe option for people like us who barely know to swim. Machkund river as a matter of fact derives its name from these pools. Machkund is derived from the word "Mastya Kunda" meaning "Pool of fish". As per colonial officers these pools used to teem with Mahsheer fishes which were surprisingly docile and let people stroke their backs in shallow water apparently the reason was a restriction on their catching by the ryots. In the present context that thing seems only like a fairy tale. Over-fishing and pollution of the river has reduced the population of these tigers of fresh water to nothing. We very carefully tiptoed upto the base of the largest of the three waterfalls and enjoyed the mighty "shower". The spot where we choose to take shower was much away from the main fall. Only a few smaller streams from the main fall had entered rock crevices and poured out from the other side. But the force of water was too vigorous to stand. The rocks were also slippery owing to the running water. We enjoyed the bath but maintaining the caution all the time. Thankfully we all came out unscathed from the bath. The refreshments followed while the wet clothes and undies were let to dry on the rocks. It was going to be 3 o'clock now. We had abandoned all plans to visit Gupteswar by now. I could not even inform Sidhu of our altered plans as there was no signal down there, who otherwise would be waiting for us with lunch at our farm.
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| "The Prodigious Plunge" |
So we started our uphill trek. I knew from the very beginning that the climb would be one of the toughest I have ever taken. Sandeep and his colleagues had earlier trekked up and down on an earlier occasion and were aware of the hardships. I tied my jacket around my waist, which I usually do while climbing a hill and relieved myself of the binocular and handed it over to Sandeep. The first climb was on the path without stairs, hence was a little easier to climb. Udayan started struggling after only a few meters. Being a bulky fellow and not having climbed hills very often he started panting like a fish out of water. I slowed down to keep him company and gave him a stave to use as an aid. He stopped every twenty paces and I started to feel really worried looking at his panting. I told him to sit down for a while and drink some water. Alas. All we were left with were only three pouches of water. I gave Udayan one and the other two to Sandeep's colleagues. Udayan didn't drink it then. Said I will drink it when I feel extremely thirsty and saying this he put the pouch in his back pocket. We reached the concrete steps. I asked Udayan to get rid of any belongings except the camera. I handed over his jacket to someone and asked others to go ahead at their own pace. From now on the ascent has to be made on stairs which made it more difficult for us. I framed a strategy on my mind to overcome this problem. I decided to climb 20 stairs at a time, regain breath and then again climb 20 stairs. If breath permited then I did a couple more than 20 but not one less. That definitely helped me. I told Udayan to do the same but he wasn't able to cross more than 10 at a stretch. Almost half way up the hill he squeezed out the water pouch he was carrying in his back pocket as he sat right on it and spilled out the few mililitres of water that was left with us. Almost everyone was feeling thirsty but there was no water to drink. I had drank to my fill in the river as I knew, half way up the hill water will be a scarce commodity. I stuck to my strategy but made sure I was not much ahead of Udayan. I kept shouting words of invigoration to him but those had little effect I guess. His slow progress gave me ample time to rest and regain breath. Udayan was last in line, I ahead of him and a colleague of Sandeep, who was from Bhadrak, preceded me in the line. He finally decided to give Udayan some morale booster and went back to walk by his side. Only 50 steps to go now. Ah. Those 50 steps seemed like a 500 more. The pressure on thigh and calf muscle felt tremendous as if something has been tied around them to restrict them from moving. My heart was literally beating in my throat and I could feel my eyes popping out of their sockets. The lactate formed in my muscles due to the strenuous climb was now playing tricks with me. I thought I could go no more. Yet the sight of the mango tree on the ridge didn't let me stop. I thought of all those great mountaineers who have conquered the Everest, K2, Annapurna, Kanchenjunga and other such hostile mountains. Compared to those oxygen bereft, rough weathered and blood-freezingly cold mountain sides these hills and stairs are nothing but a piece of cake. Nothing on this earth stands against the strong will of man. Neither the highest of mountains nor the deepest of oceans. At the end of the climb I sat down looking down at the gorge and the sun that was preparing to set down behind some distant hill. The gorge looked all the more alluring and all the more scenic than the time I had last seen it. Heart beats eventually regained their normal pace and the tense muscles felt a little relaxed, thanks to the soothing vista. I called Sidhu and told him not to wait for us any longer as we wont be back before 6. I dragged my way to the huts on the ridge. Asked the lady of the hut for drinking water and emptied the whole pot and asked for some more and took it up to Udayan who was sitting at the end of the stairs. The huts on the ridge have been built on one of the most picturesque location. I wondered how it missed the keen eyes of the Britishers, otherwise there must have stood a beautiful bungalow in place of those huts today. Surely I would be a lot happier man if one of the huts belonged to me.
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| Oh My Dear, There You Are |
It was time to retrace steps to Jeypore. Without further delay we started on our way back to Jeypore. The day was no doubt so full of activity, anxiety, fun, fatigue and satisfaction. The trek up and down the waterfall was one of the most challenging feat for both the body and our will power. The grandiose vista we got to experience from the bottom of the fall is something that providence doesn't blesses everyone with, but only to a few who dare to tread that extra mile. The pictures I clicked are mere testimony to the stunning spectacles that awaited us down there. I realized that sometimes one has to go down to experience heaven. And Duduma is one such heaven down under.
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The return journey was un-eventful except a few brief stoppages to click the chir pine plantations. We returned to Jeypore as it was just getting dark. After a little tea and snacks we(Me, Udayan, Sid and Dada) left out for our farm at Patraput, to spend the night there. Dada had arranged a special feast in our(Udayan and Me) "honour". It was the day after the full moon and the night was none less beautiful than the full moon night. We reached the farm at around 8 in the evening. Dada had left a full chicken in yogurt and spices through out the day. It was to be our dinner. We lit up a campfire and made arrangements to grill the chicken on charcoal. Then started the campfire gossips. Dada smeared the chicken with the masala paste he had prepared for the purpose and kept the chicken rotating on a fresh bamboo stick so that it doesn't burn to char. Warmth of the campfire in that chilly night, aroma of the roasting chicken and the chilly breeze from the nearby fields and the hills beyond them were having some mixed effect on our senses. I was feeling hungry, I was feeling fatigued and I wanted to stay awake the whole night, I wanted to go for a walk in that splendid moonlit night. Sometime during our conversation a pack of jackals yelled out into the night their chorus. I could imagine sitting on my camp chair, four to five cunning canids standing on some elevated ground, raising their heads sky ward every time they make that
hookay-hoo call. The call of a lone jackal is always associated with evil by the natives. For many people, not habituated to jungles of the night, the howling of a pack of jackals on a silent night can evoke the eeriest of feelings. The chicken was cooked to perfection. We four gorged on the chicken and rotis along with a gravy of chicken prepared at home. I had plans to go out for a walk after dinner but that was not to be. Thanks to the trek of Duduma. Our muscles refused to obey our orders that night. That was it, a tiresome end to Day-4 of our journey. We retired to the farm house verandah for the night. The blankets and our jackets were good enough for a comfortable sleep. The visions of the days proceedings came floating once again to me, lulling me to a slumber. The huts on the ridge, the shade of the mango tree near the ridge and the scenic vista is all but a dream for those who haven't seen it with their own eyes. As the mercury dipped with the night my slumber became deeper and deeper.
Oh dear God, if there exists something like rebirth, then please give me birth in this same land of Koraput, Once again.
Coming Up : Day-5. Exciting Birding in Gupteswar forests and travel through the best Sal forests of Koraput at night.
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