the RMK experiment: coorg

the number of different sounds on the bus from virajpet to kabbinekad is overwhelming if you stop to pay attention: rattle of window on frame, of rosary beads on window, click-clack of destination sign in its holster, crunch of wheels over rocks, ping! of rocks into metal sides, shussh-shussh of flowers rubbing flowers, rubbing windshield, occasional screech of baby, murmuring kannada conversations. the whole structure of the bus groans and trembles as we careen around hairpin turns, chug up hills and hurtle down them. i'm wedged up front, between the hot mound of engine, tom, my bag, and someone else's bag, with gorgeous front-window views of outside and of the driver, yanking the wheel around and sounding his horn pretty constantly: he's quite skilled. the bus could be going anywhere, really -- they're all like this, more or less -- but we're in coorg, a mountainous part of karnataka with coffee and cardamom and skeins of peppercorns hanging down like green pearls from tree-climbing vines, where the locals are allowed to own (and, presumably, carry) guns out of a sort of national respect for the constant trouble they gave the brits. more specifically, once we get off this bus and after a half-hour jeep ride straight uphill, we are at honey valley, hilltop home for pretty much anything a body could want. the food is delicious and (dangerously) plentiful -- iddli and sambar and coconut chutney in the morning, puris and veg and curd for lunch, chapattis (or parothas), pappadums, veg curries and a sweet for dinner. the owners made a guide about 20 years ago to the nearby trails -- now quite tattered, but more or less accurate --which range in length and difficulty from a 45-minute flat walk to a trickly waterfall to an 8-hour quest up mt. tadiannamol, and lots in between. congenial company, too.