Re-Discovering Koraput : Day-4

Route : Jeypore-Kota Junction-Peta Ghati-Lamtaput-Machkund-Duduma-Ankadelli/Onukadelli

             and return via the same route. 

The plan for the day was something else. As per the itinerary I had made, Duduma waterfall and Gupteswar caves were supposed to be covered the same day, i.e on Day-4. Fate had something different planned  for us. The same predicament of previous mornings repeated itself. Waking up early was proving a real hard task for us. Anyway after a lot of alarm snoozing and you-go-to-the-toilet-first antics we were ready for another hectic and eventful day. We left Jeypore town at around 7.30 am. I had instructed Sidhu to arrange lunch for us at our farm house near Patraput village. Coincidentally the location of our farm house is such that for someone visiting  Duduma and Gupteswar the same day it is almost midway. There is an iron suspension bridge across river Kolab near Patraput, which also happens to be a picnicking spot for the people of Jeypore and nearby places. The iron bridge was built in the year 1931 by the British and handles most of the traffic between Jeypore-Malkangiri and Jeypore-Lamtaput even today. This bridge is exactly 10 kms far from Jeypore. We stop there for a while to enjoy a packet of biscuit and the morning melody of the birds of near by forest. River Kolab emerges from the higher hills to the Jeypore plateau near this bridge. Both banks of the 10 km long gorge is cloaked with dense forest and holds a good number of leopards. Bird life also seemed rich from the calls I heard that morning.

Morning from Peta Ghati 

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.
                                               

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.

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.
       

Coffee Plantation en-route Machkund

The Dam on River Machkund : Upstream View 

The Dam on River Machkund : Downstream View

Power Channel that carries water to the Hydro-station

The Awe-inspiring Vista of Machkund Gorge

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.

The Snaking Machkund River

Panoramic View of the Gorge 

Sandeep and his colleague 

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

Re-discovering Koraput : Day-3

Route : 

Forenoon : Semliguda-Nadapur-Balda-Nageshwari Cave-Padua and back to Semliguda

Afternoon : Semliguda-Kunduli-Deomali and Back to Semliguda and then to Jeypore late in the evening.

It was the last week of October and winter had not yet taken the higher plateau of Koraput in its wintry embrace. Even so the morning was too chilly. Coming out from beneath the cosy warmth of my blanket on such a morning was not a very welcoming proposition. But we were on a road trip. I had to leave the bed, very reluctantly though, after several nudge from Udayan. When we came out of the hotel the sun of 29th October 2012 was shining bright in its rising path and had left the rim of Eastern ghat hills a little below. The morning air felt crisp and devoid of moisture. Perfecto. Most of the things I said about the food in Berhampur hold good for Koraput as well, with a few deviations. Today's breakfast consisted of puri and upma. It was nearing 9 am when we left Semliguda.

                                    Blanket of niger flower on the slopes of Koraput 

                                                   Agave plantation on the bare hill slopes.

Not even out of Semliguda town and the landscape around pressed into action their force of beckoning and there was no escaping. We stopped every now and then to click. We stopped and we clicked, we clicked and we stopped. Our ride was along a major district road. The country around was mostly undulating. Hills, as far as the vision went. Most of the low hills on the plateau are devoid of forest. Cultivation of niger seed(Guizotia abyssinica), Finger Millet(raagi)(Eleusine coracana) and Maize is taken up very industriously by the people on these hill slopes. Apart from these crops Cashew nut and agave are planted on many hill slopes. Cashew nut and agave have important role in the economy of the district. Cashew nuts and the fibre from agave are two important agricultural harvests from this region of the district. Apart from the harvest they aid the soil conservation on the hill slopes. Niger seed is also a major produce from this region of the state. The highlands are suitable for cultivation of this exotic plant. The niger flower blooms with the onset of winter and we were travelling right around that time. The hill slope blanketed with niger flower is a sight for sore eyes and offer irresistible frames for a shutter bug. The landscape to our right was bathing in the morning sunlight and looked incredible and to our left the hills had a trace of haze on them but looked equally amazing against the light. For me, the road had many memories attached to it. This is the same road that leads to Padua where we lived for six years between 1990 and 1996. Memories, irrepressible as they are, came floating. When we had to come to Jeypore from Padua we used to catch the bus at 7 o'clock at Padua. Irrespective of the season Maa would wrap us(me and my younger brother Sidharth) in warm clothes, because mornings used to be chilly in Padua, even in the summer back then. My favourite place in the bus would be the window seat or the one nearer to the driver as they offered the best view of the surroundings. I would be staring at the landscape passing by the window in great amusement. Typical Nadeem-Shravan or Anand-Milind songs of the 90's would be blaring from the cassette player in the bus. I was not grown up enough to appreciate the beauty around then. During the early nineties there was only a fair weather bridge across the river at Pitaguda. The bridge would submerge for six months of the year when the back waters of Kolab river swelled and two humongous boats ferried people across the river during this period. The boats were large enough to ferry a Tata 407 along with a horde of other loads. Crossing the river by that ferry was an adventure sort of for Sidhu and me. 

                                                            Agave flower buddings

Coming back to the trip, we reached Balda at about 10.30 am. Balda is a small village at the foot of the hill on which the Nageshwari caves are situated. It is nearly 35 kilometres from Semliguda. We found our way through the village to the caves. Here let me give you a rough idea of the hill we were ascending. It is a table top hill. The flat top is nearly 4 square kilometres in extent and stands at 1260 mtrs above sea level i.e more than 4100 feet. The Nageshwari cave is located on the south-eastern corner of this flat topped hill. The slopes are covered with dense moist deciduous vegetation. The road to the top of the hill winds through the forest on these slopes. When we were planning for a visit to these caves I took the help of Google earth to trace the road and found that there was a decent looking road leading up to the caves from Balda village. However the real picture was something far from what it looked like in Google imagery. The road we were riding on was no road at all. It looked like a well used boulder-strewn mountain path. The lone testimony to it being a road were the bushes which were cleared off by the people using it and gave it the look of a road. The first challenge the trip threw on us. I was leading the way. The first quarter of mile was not a big deal for me or the Classic. The torque that RE had packed into the engine was showing its apparent advantage. I was loving every bit of it. My hands gripping the handle bars firmly, my gaze fixed on the road and an in-suppressible smile on my face. I reached at the top of the first gradient and stopped to look back how Udayan and his TBTS were faring and found them not trailing far behind. A turn and there was the second gradient and the roads worsened. 

                                                There was a "Road" that was not There

                                                     Udayan and his Thunderbird fight the hill

                                          Terrain we rode on.

                                                         View from Nageshwari Hill

Rain water had washed away the soil from the surface, leaving behind a litter of boulders and deep furrows. I made it to the top of the second gradient with much difficulty. But Udayan struggled a lot with his bike. At one point his engine stopped and he started skidding downhill but somehow managed to find a foothold. I went back to help him with the kick start. Because he could not have started the bike himself. I held his bike from behind while he kick started it. The Thunderbird was a little low on power compared to the Classic as it had a slightly lighter crank than the Classic. On the way we saw a group of wood cutters and asked them whether the bikes can go to the top on this road. They said yes but not with much conviction. We decided to proceed, taking it as a challenge. But the hill made it more difficult. I somehow managed to proceed a little further. Udayan stopped at a place and said his bikes clutch wire felt loose and he said it may snap any-time.Shit, I thought. We had another one kilometre to the cave and had no idea what was the condition of the road ahead. Then it dawned upon me what a situation we had run into. If Udayan's bike's clutch wire snapped it could possibly take the whole day to take the bike back to civilization and which meant we will have to postpone the Deomali visit to the next day which we obviously did not want to. We parked our bikes and sat beneath the shade of a mango tree. The sun was shining brightly and we started to feel the heat.Relieving myself from the jacket and camera I started pondering over the situation. Then we agreed mutually that proceeding further will be too risky given the state of road. Trekking to the top was neither a practicable proposition as we would be late for the Deomali drive. So discretion proved to be the better part of valour and we retraced from there after fifteen minutes.

                                                                 The Point of Return

The view from the place, where we were sitting, was serene. The sun midway on the sky felt a little hot for comfort. The back-waters of Jalaput reservoir gleamed in the distance. The vista helped a lot to bring the adrenalin levels down and meanwhile the bike engines also cooled off. The bikes had to be turned around the 50 degree slope very carefully and one at a time. I held for support while Udayan turned his bike and he supported me while I turned mine. I decided to descend first. I descended the slope with my engine running and put the Classic in first gear. I pushed the bike forward inches at a time and Udayan did the same with his engine off. Though climbing down was not very easy, our bikes were saved of the torture this time. But we had to perform a pretty good balancing act on the boulder-strewn mountain path. A stream on the way was good place to quench our thirst. With a promise to return once again and scale to its top we bade good by to the Nageshwari hills and proceeded to Padua.

                                                     The view that soothed our Senses

Roads or No Roads, My Bull took me there, where other mortal bikes fear to Tread

Padua is quaint little village in the remote part of Koraput with immensely beautiful landscape around and a climate that is exceptional. It came into little prominence during the Dandakaranya project. Homeless Bengali refugees were given transient accommodation here before being resettled in other parts of the district. I had not visited the place even for once after we left that place in 1996. This is the place where the first threads of attachment between me and nature were tied. The place had a few government establishment such as a dispensary, a veterinary centre, two schools, branch of a rural bank(of which my father was the manager), a police station and a handful other such offices, most of which ran in the dilapidated Dandakaranya project houses. A small railway station on the base of a hill gave the place a British era charm. Life at Padua was always easy going. Mornings use to be chilly. My school was at a stone throw distance from our house. I used to roam about a lot in the village after school and I remember good thrashings from my father for my overtime wanderings, though I was not mischievous at all. Most of the people liked me a lot in the village and I had free access to every household as a cute child. Thursday used to be the weekly market. I loved accompanying Baba to the haat. Most of our evenings would be spent near the reservoir back waters with Baba. Padua being a remote village suffered from frequent power outages. But we enjoyed the power outage period very much because it disrupted study time and Sidhu and me would coax Baba to tell us jungle tales. 

First we went to the inspection bungalow situated on the top of a knoll over looking the reservoir and the surrounding plateau. This is one of the many British time bungalows that are still there in undivided Koraput district. The location and architecture of the the bungalow fascinated me a lot and I dreamt of constructing my own bungalow in the same fashion as this one when I was a school boy. The bungalow compound and its adjoining scrub forest used to be a favourite haunt of ours. My father used to bring us here for a evenings birding and we would sit on the verandah of the house to see the sun set below the reservoir and hills. The rear portion of the bungalow had been damaged. Buildings such as this one should be preserved for their antique as well as aesthetic values. I always hold the British in awe for the reason that they always choose the best of places to construct their house and bungalows. 

                                                       The British Time Bungalow at Padua

                                                              View from the Bungalow

                                                                      British Charm

Just when we were about to leave the bungalow I spotted a flock of birds which flew from one tree to another as I watched them. I identified them as babblers. Of course they were babblers but babblers that whistled as they flew. Yes, there they were, a flock of Yellow-billed babblers. Yellow-billed babblers are a species of babblers(known as Kundakhia pakhi or Sat Bhai in Odisha). They were the birds I was looking for since a few months. The northern most range of this bird according to the field guides is up to the northern parts of Andhra Pradesh. These birds had never been reported from Odisha. Few months ago I had come across a babbler near Jeypore which looked like a yellow billed babbler. I had not got the confirmation as I had not heard the bird call. But this time I saw them in broad day light and also heard them whistle. The common and jungle babblers make raucous chatter or a metallic '"Ttich" '"Ttich" sound but yellow billed babblers have a sweet whistle like vocalization. We took a few photographs of these birds as a record so that Koraput can be included in their range of distribution later. Then we rode about in the village to see the place where we lived and the school where I started my formal education. The house where we lived was in a very dilapidated condition but the school where I studied had expanded and was in good state. The scenery around looked as beautiful as it used to 16 years ago. Nostalgia. That is what I had come here for. I showed Udayan the above places and told him in brief how my childhood days had passed in this beautiful place. I recognized a few familiar faces in the village but they could not recognize me for obvious reasons. I had left the place when I was a boy of 10 and now there I was as a man of 26 sporting a French beard and riding a Royal Enfield. I preferred not to startle them by divulging my identity and left Padua. 

We returned to Semliguda by 2 o'clock. A hasty bath and a quick lunch followed. I had asked a few of my friends from Jeypore and Sidhu(my younger brother) to accompany us to the top of Deomali. However others failed to turn up and Sidhu delayed his start from Jeypore. It was getting too late. I called him up and told him not to come and we started from Semliguda to Deomali at 3.15 in the afternoon. The plateau looked resplendent in the afternoon light of the sun, the right setting for photography. We took a left turn from the Kundli haat. This haat is famous through out the district for vegetables. The Mali tribe who inhabit the valleys near Deomali are very laborious people and they grow the best vegetables of the region using the traditional organic practices. Kundli haat is where all the vegetables are traded and then make their way to different parts of Odisha and Andhra Pradesh. The arch at Kundli haat welcomes all the visitors to Deomali peak. From Kundli onwards the road passes through a scenic valley with high and bare hills on two sides and cultivation and crystal clear streams in the middle. Anybody passing through this valley with a camera in hand cannot help but stop many times on this road to click pictures. So did we. The afternoon golden light had made the valley even more alluring. Though we were getting late we could not resist the temptation to take pictures. 

                     Deomali Peak, 1672 Mtrs from mean sea level as seen from the road leading to it

                                                      Deomali peak as seen from the valley below.

                                                                       Deomali Here I come

We reach Thuria, the village at the base of Deomali. The road from Thuria to Deomali is a riders delight. The zig-zagging mountain road felt awesome to ride on. As we rode up hill I felt the temperature dipping and the light fading. We reached at the shoulder of Deomali which offers a panoramic view of most of the hills and valleys around it. There is a 3 km stretch of road that runs on the shoulder of the hill and is the most scenic part of the road. The road ends at a place from where the peak is 2 kms away. We could see the sun fast disappearing behind the distant hills. We had to make it to the top of Deomali before darkness. But that seemed an impossible feat now. It was nearing five o'clock and the sun almost ready to go for the night. We were almost two hundred meters below the summit. A family was out there picnicking when we reached. Apart from them there was old cow-herder, smoking a rolled tobacco leaf. He asked for alms with a wide grin to which I could not say no. We decided to trek as far up as possible towards the peak before darkness. The picnicking family left the place as we started our trek, so did the cow-herder along with his custody. 

The roads on Deomali

Right there where it was Made to be

                                                              Eastern side of Deomali

                                                          The magical sunset at Deomali

                                                                 While trekking up Deomali

The only time the tripod was of used

There we were on the mountain, just two of us. With the light fading away rapidly we trekked at a brisk pace. The anabatic mountain breeze was sweeping across the hill side. We reached an observation tower(view point). By now we were a little out of breath. It was almost dark now. To reach the peak was our target, but given the terrain we were walking on it would have been very difficult to come back from the summit unhurt in the dark. The mountain side was full of loose boulders and scrub. There were also many sloth bears on the other face of the hills which we might unknowingly stumble upon inadvertently. I always carry a small Maglite torch with me but that would not have been of much use while trekking up or down. We stop at the watch tower to enjoy the vista for a while before going downhill again. We sat on the tower enjoying the serenity and tranquillity of Deomali. We decided to keep mum for sometime. I inhaled and filled my lungs with the clean and cold mountain air and it had its own magical effect on the body. Every muscle and nerve felt extremely relaxed. A few insects chirped under some boulder or in some bush, a red-wattle lapwing gave its did-you-do-it , did-you-do-it call at some distance, a few birds sang their evening songs to bid adieu to the departing day. To the west, behind the hill, the sun had already sank into a slumber. Only the golden glow of its fading rays lit up the western sky like a golden canvas. To the east I could see the full moon(it was a full moon day) lazily rising above the rim of distant hills. Down below in the valleys to my right and left a thick mist was descending on the villages. We sat there for quite a while. The tower was half broken, some of the steel rods used in its construction had been stolen, the place was littered with polythene wrappers, cigarette packs etc. The tower's walls and pillars served as the "wall of fame" or I must say "wall of name" for many lovers of the district. This has to stop somehow. 

The Vista from the top most watch tower of Deomali

Deomali Landscape 

I was not at all feeling like leaving that place. The only thought that bothered me while sitting there was in case one of our bikes broke down on the way or got a flat tyre we could be in real trouble. I kept that thought to myself and prayed for a safe ride back up to Semliguda. We started our walk back to the place where our REs were parked below. We collected dry brushwood along the way and made a small bonfire on the road for ourselves. The bonfire was a token celebration for having made it to Deomali at last. It was an end to years of waiting, years of yearning and here I was at the Deomali, the highest hill in the whole of Eastern Ghat mountain range. Lighting the fire was not easy though on the windy mountain top. Lighting up the fire we sat there for a while, posed for a few photographs near it. The road on which we were sitting had Maoist slogans and messages written all over it. We call it a day. As the fire died down we started on our way back. The full moon in its full glory lit up the bare mountain side in a ghostly shade. On the way back we saw Barn Owls sitting on the ground, probably the red wattle lapwing which was calling did-you-do-it a few minutes ago and a fox. On one of the U-turns on the way down a few men suddenly appeared with long staves in their hand and gave quite a shock to both of us. Udayan was leading this time. One of the man raised his arm to ask for lift but we did not stop for obvious reasons. I sighed in relief when we reached Thuria village. From then on we drove faster. On the way between Thuria and Kundli Udayan told me there was four-wheeler which was trying to catch up with us. I told him to accelerate and in two minutes we were to far ahead to be caught up with. 

The Bonfire

We reached Semliguda at about 8 o'clock. After having a little snack break there we checked out of the hotel and proceeded on our way to Jeypore, my home town. The journey to Jeypore was uneventful. We reached Jeypore around 9.30pm. That was the end to Day-3. The off road biking earlier in the day gave us the high we were looking for. Deomali without a doubt was the literal high point of our trip. These two beautiful places along with many other in Koraput hold a lot of potential to be promoted as tourist destination. But sometimes it amazes me that many people of Odisha don't have the slightest idea that places like Deomali exist in their own state. Vigorous promotion and good tourist facilities at the right places by the tourism department can definitely help to increase visitors foot fall. Deomali as I noticed has scope for adventure sports such as trekking and para-gliding. My word for any one reading this : Deomali is definitely a place you must see in Odisha. 

Hope you enjoyed the travelogue as much as I loved the travel.

Day-4: To Continue, Trek to the base of 160 mtr high Duduma water fall in the next post. Till then these photographs will keep you company.

For more of my pictures visit my Flickr photo stream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813070@N08/
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