That’s what they call Kerala in southern India and after more than ten days on the road passing through it’s easy to understand the label. A lot of my journey from Mumbai has been along the costal corridor. As I headed south, at first Maharashtra, Goa and then Karnataka. Lots of short sharp hills cut by rivers that needed crossing. Sometimes by bridge, sometimes by ferry and on occasion local fishing boats so small my bike barely fitted.
The landscape along the coast flattening and softening as I entered Kerala. Lazy backwaters, coconut palms and sandy beaches. Fish stalls dotting the roadside. Mostly selling fresh fish, but sometimes dried. Fishermen darning nets. Along the coast you can’t get away from fishing. The boats varying in size. In some places not much bigger than a paddle board, some made of plastic, in other places long narrow wooden boats similar in size to a Canadian canoe. In shallow waters powered by punt poles while the nets are cast out by hand. At the other end, bigger more commercial trawling boats with winches. Boats able to venture much further from shore.
The food in restaurants reflecting the importance of fishing. Fish fry common. Various types of fish covered in spaces and dry fried till crispy. The spicy crunchy outside coating, contrasting with the delicate white flesh inside. Some fish small and whole. Other larger fishes, like the king fish, sliced into steaks and coated in the spice mixture. Often served with lime wedges. A plate never disappointing, leaving you wanting for more.
Cochin relaxed and seemingly a place where everything slows. More touristy than much of my journey down the west coast, but understated and not as pumped as Goa.
With time on my hands I make the decision to take a loop inland to investigate the Ghats or hills that rise inland and form the spine of southern India. In Kerala important for tea, spices and wildlife. Some of the hill stations tourist magnets.
Before I tackle the steep climbs I visit the area around Thattekad and the Periyar river. For the first time in my life, I see pineapples, pepper, nutmeg and wild jackfruit growing. Staying in a posh campsite on the river bank , on the other side, a nature reserve where elephants roam freely. Harikrishna the manager, takes me on a memorable evening walk to a temple on the other side of the river. There’s a suspension bridge that is very popular with Indian tourists. Swaying and creaking as we cross. Everyone ignoring the signs that say “safe maximum number of people 25”. On the other side it’s peaceful as we walk through the lush growth. As green as an early May Day in England where the youthful leaves celebrate new life.
As I leave the campsite early the following morning, just before the sun rises, the insects in the rubber plantations saluting the new dawn with a cacophony of pulsating clicks and rattles. As the sun breaks through the trees the light shimmering and sparkling.
The climb up into the ghats, long and brutal, my inner voice questioning my sanity. Sweat leaking from every pore in an unsustainable flow.
At the top the air cooler. My body able to calm. Early in the morning, I question my decision to give away all my warm clothes back in Manali as I left the Himalayas. Fingers numb, not wanting to pull the brake levers on steep descents.
Tea plantations, carefully sculpted. Topiary on an industrial scale. Some arranged in rows. Others more random. All with thin paths through. Strange out of place highly cropped trees growing, often spaced in defined intervals and must be there for a purpose.
Leaving the Ghats I descend down to Kottayam to get a state ferry through the back waters to Alleppey. As with so many discoveries on my journey a tip from a local. Early in the morning my bicycle unceremoniously dumped on the top of the corrugated iron roof of the boat. Two and a half hours of exquisite faring ensues. First down long straight canals stopping here and there to pick up and drop passengers. Further on through big expanses of water in places covered with thick lush green leaves, plants floating on the surface. Many birds on the water. Local fishermen in small boats.
Further on the ferry becomes packed with commuters and school children as we near Alleppy. Two and a half hours of rich life for a mere 29 rupees. Or twenty three pence in English money. But as is nearly always the case, the best adventures are not measured by money, but by the feelings of happiness and contentment they bring.
Further south I reach Varkala. It’s a holiday weekend in India. The place tourist a magnet under normal circumstances, is heaving as I arrive on the birthday of Mahatma Ghandi. Tired after 8 or 9 days cycling, I elect to take a break from the road. I stay in the tourist hub around the cliff top that’s vibrant with a massive influx of weekend Indian tourists. Young people, all here to unwind. Many of them working hard to survive in life. Often happy to interact with a strange old man from Europe on a bicycle.
Late in the night I wake in my bed just behind the main strip, the clubs still pulsating with music and happy singing.
Shortly after I arrive in Varkala, while exploring the cliff top, a sign advertising yoga sessions, draws my curiosity and takes me to the hut behind. I sign up for morning yoga. At the end of my second session, as we sit facing each other, Nanda my yoga teacher tells me more about his life. Like me originally an IT professional, after 16 years he decided that something was missing from his life and chose to follow a different path. Now 46 he’s at one with himself. We talk about India and how it’s changing he share some of his philosophy. That everything is the same. People, nature, trees. The same. Attachment unimportant. So much of which makes a lot of sense to me. Something in the conversation resonates as I tell him how lucky I feel. Lucky to be able to travel and observe the goodness that is iall around. I tell him, I will remember the thought, that when as beings we are no longer, it’s important to leave the body happy. A simple thought but one once grasped unlocks much.
As I leave Kerala and cycle the last few kilometres to the bottom of India, I have a profound feeling of contentment.
I’m reminded of two conversations. A few days ago, on the phone an old friend David, he jested with me that I was here to find my self. As did Claire, a friend from my rowing club when she enquired in August before I left if I was off to find myself. To both I pushed back strongly. Back in 1986 I left India changed and influenced by its beauty, spirituality and kindness. Back in August I thought I was too old to be changed, but after two months enveloped in kindness I question those thoughts and wonder if india once again is changing me. Changing me and reminding me of the importance of letting go.
Love and peace from Kerala. Gods country!
