The image of the bleeding man sprawled on the floor of the train that travelled from Chennai Central to Tada (Andhra Pradesh) refused to leave my mind. His bloody foot and stained mouth – the after-effects of a drunken attempt to cross railway tracks – boded as an ugly omen for two girls on an impromptu hiking trip.
I shuddered.
In an effort to distract myself, I focused my attention on my trek to Ubbalamadugu waterfalls, also known as Tada falls, near the border of Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Srishti and I had planned this trip on a whim when we read about “medium difficult level trek” on Google. I wondered if anything else as exciting would happen on this trip.
If only I knew.
On reaching the Tada railway station, we haggled with some autorickshaw drivers and managed to bring the price down from Rs 1,200 to Rs 300 for a half an hour ride but only because we did not have Rs 1,200 between the two of us.
Eventually, the mountain range appeared to the background music of a faulty exhaust pipe. We were excited. The autorickshaw driver wasn’t. “It’s too dangerous for two girls,” said Auto Suresh, sagely shaking his head as though he had done his own census of the number of boys and girls who had successfully trekked to the top of the waterfall.
I wondered how far down his jaw would fall if he comes to know about the bloody body we had seen minutes ago. However, wary of his self-afflicted title, reminiscent of ‘Auto Shankar’ the notorious serial killer, I figured it was in our best interest not to mention words like blood or body or accident to him.
“We’ll be fine,” I said.
We had just paid our entry fee when one of the forest department officers told us that a local family was willing to give us a tractor-ride till the parking lot four kilometres away. Our faces split into wide grins. This would be the first tractor ride for both of us.
One important fact you need to learn about tractor-rides though – they are dusty. I must have swallowed a clump of dust sitting right behind the wheels.
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I distracted myself from all this by marvelling at how well the forest department had maintained the greenery. It was as though we were sitting inside a gigantic evergreen leaf. Halfway across, there is a small lake. The pale blue of the water was dotted with sun-bleached trees – a warning of how severe the heat could be over here.
Once at the parking lot, we thanked Vishwanad, the owner of the vehicle and his family, for their wonderful hospitality. “It’s a three kilometre walk from here,” said his niece, “but you won’t see a lot of water now. The river isn’t as strong during this time of year.
We began by crossing an old run-down bridge that covered a shallow yet wide pond. I felt like Indiana Jones in that moment, about to embark on an adventurous mission as I jumped over the holes in the bridge. That image soon changed as we came across a stream that was dammed up and treated like a natural water park by the visitors.
What saddened me was the growing amount garbage I saw as we trekked ahead. Although a relatively new tourist spot, you could still see a Bisleri bottle thrown behind a bush, an old torn cloth hanging off a branch, a Dark Fantasy (biscuit) wrapper lying on the road. I wondered what compelled people to throw things around.
I could see why Tada was rated medium in difficulty once we reached the final kilometre of the trek as it included climbing over huge round stones, smoothened by the gushing water that washed over them during monsoon.I thanked myself a million times for having the presence of mind to wear sports shoes rather than the walking shoes I was planning to wear originally. I could not have climbed to the top without them.
The base of the waterfalls has a wonderful surprise for those who make it till the top. There lies a pond filled with stonefish, the same ones used in spas to eat dead skin off your feet. We spent the next fifteen minutes soaking our feet, letting the fish tickle our feet with their tiny bites. I tried to stay as still as I could but it didn’t work. The fish dispersed as I yanked my feet out of the water.
“You’re laughing too much,” Srishti shook her head at me.
“I can’t help it. They tickled me,” I laughed.
There is a concept called “summit” in trekking which refers to that point of your trek where you feel you cannot go any higher. For Srishti, this pond was her summit. My summit rested higher up, where the water rushed faster and the people were fewer. So, I trudged ahead, ready to climb rocks that were now twice my size and stacked on top of each other.
The only way to climb your way through was to shimmy up and down the rock with one pair of arm and leg on either side of you, like a cockroach wriggling up a pipe. I was grossly under-geared. I had left my shoes behind for better grip which was a mistake because the stretch beyond these stacked up rocks was dry and hard. I “ouched” and “ow”ed the rest of my way.
When I finally reached the top, I was sweaty and out of breath. The chirping of the cicadas, the gaggle of the few men around me, the rush of the water falling down – all these loud noises were softened by the roar of my own bloodstream.
Trekking was a good way of reminding your body how to breathe. I walked towards the water rushing downwards at the speed of gravity and, inadvertently, drank some of it. People often say that the water isn’t clean enough to drink like that but the tractor had already fed me so much dust by then. So, I wasn’t worried about germs.
I had assumed that going back would be easy. It wasn’t. Auto Suresh had just hiked his price to Rs 500. We didn’t have that kind of money. For a full half an hour Srishti and I considered spending the night inside the forest. Thankfully, a couple who had reached the falls too late, agreed to drop us at Tada railway station.
Reclining in the backseat of the tidy Santro, I looked back at my day and listed down all the things I had done wrong:
Boarded a bloody bogie.
Grossly misjudged my travel expenses.
Nearly killed my feet climbing sharp rocks.
Drank water from a spot I shouldn’t have drunk from.
Haggled with my only mode of transportation.
Got into a car with strangers.
I’d put a series of checks on all of this. It seemed the only wrong thing I had not done that day was litter. Still, did I have fun? A big green tick sign in front of that.
Vallari Sanzgiri is a student at Asian College of Journalism, Chennai
Featured image credit: Vallari Sanzgiri