Snacking & Sahyadris

Past few days have had an element of carefreeness. Interesting that we want to achieve and possess so much, only to want to be unbound by them. So much thought, by us humans, is given to the process and properties of thought. Yet the best feelings come out of thoughtlessness.

It was an impromptuish plan. A new terrain with old friends. Basics were sorted, rest was to be managed on-the-go. The kind of plans that work better than those that are fixed from end-to-end. Your hindsight usually fills them with much brighter colours than your foresight does with the planned ones.

Traversing about 165 km from Pune, the last 15 km or so by a motor boat, we reached this lonely place called Met Indoli on an early evening of late January. Uniquely named, Met Indoli is a quaint Forest Camp in the emerald Western Ghats of Sahyadri Tiger Reserve (STR). The day's journey had us crossing the Kaas Plateau, Maharashtra's own post-monsoon valley (or highland) of flowers and huge Sivsagar lake (a vast reservoir on river Koyna). Met Indoli sees a few people in good season, serving the base from which a trek to nearby Vasota fort is taken by locals and tourists. That day however was the weekly off day for the trek. So we had the entire far-away camp to ourselves. The wooden cottages may have seen better days, but to have a bed and bath in wilderness is a luxury by itself. The thoughts of an unsuspecting krait creeping out of the broken timber flooring or the ajarred door and climbing up the blanket were beaten by the pleasant drowsiness of chulha-made roti-sabzi and calls of Jerdon's Nightjar. Next, i woke up to a great symphony of birds in the morning. The bird calls always seem to defy the concepts of music. None of the combinations disappoint, with some reaching the levels of therapy.

I had reached Pune only a day before. It looks like a city that understands time-is-money of its neighbour but also wants to hold back to the indolent ease of the yore. I had a list of eateries to check. Rucksack on my back, i trudged from airport to the nearest Vada Pav stall. By day-end i had sampled as much of Pune lanes as the savouries. Thanks to Airbnb, I had a stay fixed in an Old-Pune 'Wada'. Wadas are traditional mansions in the 'Peths' (local name for localities) and chart their origin to the Peshwa times. With their set of carved wooden balconies, stone arches, alleys and a courtyard, Wadas hold personal histories of the many who lived, laughed and lost in these walls. There are more than a dozen Peths in Pune, including those named after the days of the week. They form the heart of the city today.

A Pao-er packed welcome in the city

 

A typical Wada in Pune

Pune is also a city that takes its tea seriously. So much so that it gets compared to the elixir. ‘Amrit-tulya’ is available in plenty, and rather cheaply. The thick, solidly-flavoured tea has an amazing consistency across outlets. Paired with a Bun-Maska, which is no less dev-tulya itself, one is in for a heavenly snacking any time of the day.

Pune knows its tea 

The part of the Wada in Sadashivpeth that i got for myself was closing in on a century, warmth and comfort intact. A sense of history and civilization engulfed me as I ended the Vada-fuelled day reading about the nearby Shaniwar Wada, the fort-mansion built by Peshwa Bajirao I, and Vishrambaug Wada, built by Bajirao II.

Motor Boats waited for us again as we bid adieu to Met Indoli. This lovely triad of Poha breakfast, boating and trekking was going to be a pattern for a few days to come. Accompanied by the forest staff and workers, who routinely take the forest paths for foot-patrol we set on exploring the interiors of this far-away Tiger Reserve. Happy that the backpack has been sent to the day-end camp, i stumped along with a light day-bag, collecting marginal info from the local forest staff who described the local flora and fauna to the Marathi friends in colloquial terms.

Boats replace Gypsies and Boleros in Sahyadri TR

The low-lying forest here, in the vicinity of the reservoir, is thick. Thick enough to not have a great likeness from Mega carnivores who would ideally want a bit of openness for ease of movement and sighting of prey. Resultantly, we find umpteen signs (scats, scratch marks, diggings etc) on the forest path. In fact, the leopard scat could be seen almost every 8-10 minutes, followed not very infrequently by Sloth Bear signatures. As one gains altitude, the forest opens up to mini grassy patches. One gets a feeling that these grassy patches are the Wadas of Gaur (Indian Bison). Especially when you gather that they are locally called as 'Sadas'. It is here that Gaurs congregated for forage, mineral licks, water and socialisation, more so in monsoons and post-monsoons. Their dung-heaps dot these patches, as do the fleas that inhabit the grass. Resting innocuously on the tufts and watching leisurely the forest and reservoir beneath, we were oblivious to the fact that the fleas were going to make a 'lasting impression' on us. A good trek of about 13 km took us to the height of the hill-range (Killa in local lingo) from where one could see the vast expanse of Ratnagiri on the other side. Thereafter the path winded down to the forest camp of Chitampalli. The day ended with some more forest talk with the local staff around a bonfire.

Sadas- the grassy patches loved by Gaurs in the middle of dense Sahyadri forest

The next day followed the same Poha-powered plod across another Sahyadri bastion called Shirsinghe. The wooden pole that the staff had given me the day before added to the relief column. One tends to fall a little bit in love with their trekking-pole in the course of a trek. Not long after the start, a leopard scat, not older than half-an-hour and ornated by short porcupine quills and claws was spotted on the path. Who knows if the stealthy big cat might have been watching us from its concealed hideout.

Rising Sun & piping Poha: A Sahyadri Morning

Leopard remains an enigmatic species for most. The majesty of a tiger is undeniable. But the mystique of this gorgeous spotted beast is not far behind. From Mice to Macaques, Porcupines to Peafowls, this forever second-in-command sets the true benchmark for prey variability and acceptance of terrain. The incline rose and just when the steps were becoming heavier, a heavenly Asian Paradise Flycatcher was seen hopping from branch to branch, with the long white tail following the bird like an afterthought. The view refreshed everyone. Rest of the tempo was set by the Chitale Bandhu Bhakarwadi.

The Ghat heights & views of Ratnagiri beyond

The core memory from the day will perhaps be the elation of forest staff as they checked the camera trap and found a neat Tiger pic from last night. Tiger Augmentation and Rehabilitation Action (Operation TARA) had been underway here. Tigers from other reserves of the states, esp Pench and Tadoba had been released in recent past, and sightings like these were both a relief and encouragement.

There are no easy days for forest staff anywhere, but the STR terrain seems a step up on the difficulty ladder. The camps are far off in fair weather, and almost unreachable in the bad one. The staff recounted the days of isolation in camps during monsoons, the dense fog and turbulent water making the traverse to other side of reservoir difficult and sporadic. The mould creeps up on you inside the camp and leeches await as you step outside. It is results like the one on camera trap SD card, that kept the moral going.

The calm Sivasagar reservoir waters in winters become foggy & turbulent in monsoons 

By evening, we had walked, boated, jeeped and bhakarwadid our way to the southernmost part of Sivsagar. A well-wisher had brought some sweet Kandhi Pedhas, which is a Satara district sweet speciality. We would witness, on the back journey later, the vast sugarcane tracts and livestock herds, that gave rise to the popular sweetmeat. The pedha energy was spent on a stone throwing contest from a bridge by the idyllic camp bungalow.

The joys of finding the locally popular sweet in Moffusils 

The final day sojourn had been kept for the other major constituent of STR, the Chandoli National Park. We made the early morning dash to the park in a safari vehicle. Before the spotlight was taken by highlands of Chandoli NP, we got mesmerized by the picturesque Koynanagar hinterlands. Narrow up and down roads, small streams, quiet and graceful dwellings, thickets interspersed with farms, folks and livestock getting ready for the day- all of it seems to come alive from a Phanishwarnath Renu novel. Climbing up, the vehicle finally entered the Chandoli jungles and we were welcomed by the cutest looking Shekru (marathi for giant squirrel). Shortly thereafter, we crossed the small habitation of Patharpunj. With an average of approx 8000 mm, the place has recently beaten Cherapunji and Mawsynram in the race for the wettest place in the country.

Bladderworts of Chandoli

The bright and sunny day however was far from a picture of inundation. The blue we could see was from the bladderworts blooming on the headwaters of Warana. A relatively shorter south flowing river, Warana drains much of Kolhapur before joining Krishna in district Sangli. The bladderworts are a weird primitive lot, lacking properly defined root and shoot. However, they carry some of the most advanced gear among the plant kingdom for trapping small waterborne flies and fleas. A cute, almost smiling non-vegetarian flora. I got reminded of the Himalayan treks where often the local porters tell you to stay away from the blue-coloured flowers (some are poisonous or have a hallucinogenic effect). The most noticeable part of Chandoli was the almost Masai-Mara like expanse of the grassland.

Chandoli Grasslands; a great promise of jungle food chain

Shortly after sighting a big and beautiful Gaur, we arrived at the end of the plateau. From there we could see the Prachitgarh summit. Maharashtra, especially Marathwada, has its fair share of mountain-top fort ruins. Many of these look-out points of the erstwhile Maratha empire are now weekend go-to points of the Marathi manush. A slightly adventurous down and up climb took us to this sky island having vast, albeit a bit hazy, views of Konkan. The fort had a surprisingly effective and working stone-carved underground water storage structure from the earlier times. A group of good Samaritans had been camping here from last night and were busy in repairing the old temple and fortifications. The Maharashtrian culture of group-tourism in their state and around is akin to the Bengali bhadralok cluster tourism of Himalayas. Unlike the bunched-tourism of north, Bengal and Maharashtra parties are not fixated on religious tourism and have a wider exploratory zeal. Taking a breather under a wild fig tree, we finished the leftover Satara pedhas. The climb back on the Chandoli highland and ventured down to Koynanagar fields was made but not before sighting a few more Shekru. This short scramble ended the three days endurance hike with a good shot of adrenaline.

The way to Prachitgarh (on top right)

Thought and care eventually re-entered the consciousness. The return journey to Pune was planned, with much help and support of forest folks. A short stop was made on the way at Karad to thank our benefactors for the hospitality. Turns out we were in for more. Delicious idlis and dosas appeared and disappeared over the bureaucratic talk. The kid accompanying us on the trek got bored of this joint catharsis. She looked at me, listening to the predominantly Marathi conversation with a serious expression and asked me if I could understand what they were saying. I replied in negative. This made her laugh.

Vada Pao, Misal and Bhelpuri: tasty trio of Pune

A fast descent thereafter was made to Pune, crossing about half a million Misal and Mutton-Bhakri points. This time the stay was in a more upscale, almost south-Delhisque part of the city. After watching a decent play on the life of Amrita Pritam and Imroz in a household setting of a bylane, we chanced upon an ice-cream shop based out of a modernized Wada. It had been selling a Sitaphal Mastani (a thick shake with some custard apple ice-cream and chunks). The mastani received a unanimous thumbs-up and gulp-down. There were other fruit mastanis displayed on the wall that were available seasonally. I indulged in olfactory imagination of having a Jamun or Alphanso mastani after a sultry day's work and felt pity for those trying to shed weight in a city where every two months one has to negate a new disarming ice-cream shake having hypnotic abilities.

On the plane back home, between the imagery of woods and water, i wondered if I had outdone the trek workout by the snack-intake. Absurd is the world of thoughts and weights..