When the mountains call, how can one stay away?
In hindsight, getting into an arduous, highly challenging, yet deeply fulfilling trek a couple of weeks ago, without much preparation whatsoever, was nothing short of thrilling. Agasthyarkoodam, one of the most difficult mountain treks in South India, proved to be a genuinely humbling experience of self-realisation—a true awakening of one's own insignificance in the vast expanse of Nature.
Tucked on the outskirts of Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala's capital, more than 50km away in Vithura village, Agasthyarkoodam is part of the Agasthyamala Biosphere Reserve, an ecologically significant region, with a rich variety of flora and fauna. It spans across Kerala and Tamil Nadu, on the southern tip of the Western Ghats. Standing at a height of 1,868m (6,129 ft) above sea-level, this is one of the highest peaks in Kerala, and not an easy one to trek up on.
There are two types of people who come for the Agasthyarkoodam trek.
The first kind are a combination of nature/trek lovers and adventure-seekers, to which people like me belong. The second lot comprises the faithful, who come seeking a darshan of Sage Agasthya, the eternal resident of the peak.
Unlike the past couple of times when I summited the peak in a short span of two days, testing my physical and mental limits of endurance to the extreme, this time I opted for a three-day trek so as to assimilate a little more of the verdant surroundings enroute.
My first trek had been more than two decades ago. The second one, which was more recent, left me with an incomplete feeling—maybe because of this rushed nature.
This time around, the walk seemed endless. You walk, walk and walk, interspersed throughout with steep climbs—both short and long—with occasional stops to catch your breath, even as your knees are buckling under you while navigating the complex contours of the hilly terrain.
All this amidst stunning scenery dotted with waterfalls that seem to spring out of nowhere. The slippery patches and convoluted pathways that seem to twist and turn endlessly add to the challenge, but just as you feel overwhelmed arrive the lush meadows...
Any trekking enthusiast worth his salt would undoubtedly be ready for it all—be it the dense fog that envelops one at a steep corner, or the scorching sun that plays peekaboo with the soft, steady drizzle bringing with it an army of leeches. Then there is the sudden onset of mist tricking your senses and also the windy hilltops that at times make it nearly impossible for you to stand. If these weren't enough, one always has to grapple with one's own mind that tries to keep up with the panoramic, unfettered wildness all around.
Managed by the state forest department, the three-day trek begins from Bonacaud.
It is always advisable to start early, around seven preferably, so as to cover around 14-odd km to the base camp at Athirumala. Keep luggage to the minimum. A backpack with sweat-pants, jacket, water-bottle, basic toiletries and sleeping-bag should do. Don't forget to choose suitable climbing sticks from the forest picket station at Bonacaud.
And most importantly, never forget you are the one encroaching into the wild. So respect Nature and its inherent rules.
Avoid littering, plastics, loud sounds, flashy lights/clothes—anything that disturbs the tranquility. You will cross elephant corridors, may come across wild animals such as bears, leopards and monkeys—do not therefore adopt a conflicting stance.
The first day's trek mostly covers what can be loosely described as the plains—a term that, however, turns ironic on the way back. It comprises three steep climbs, of which two are in the midst of meadows and the last one—the most testing—aptly named 'Muttidichan Para', which literally translates into 'knee-hitting rock'.
It takes roughly 5-6 hours of slow trek to reach Athirumala. All along the way, there are clear forest-markers and signboards that announce forest camps at Pandi Motta, Karamanayar, Vazhapindiyar, and finally Attayar that is more of a transit halt.
More than half of the first-day trek involves well-trudged forest-paths with a sprinkling of cold-water-streams that help quench one's thirst enroute. The thick tree-cover offers relief from the sun, as the day progresses. Once you cross Attayar, the till-then benign forest-paths make way for the real trekking experience.
The long stretches of soil-path amidst the meadows may seem easy to walk through at first, but soon starts testing your knees, often prompting you to take short breaks in-between, while you wait to catch your breath. Once the meadows end, you are greeted by the formidable Muttidichan Para that seems to loom over you.
A long-winding uphill climb through rocky terrains, wet patches, big boulders, slippery pebbles and huge, intruding tree-roots—all add to the thrill of the climb. There are numerous steeply-inclined shortcuts that initially tempt you, but as the climb progresses, you prefer to stick to the long route, out of sheer weariness. This stretch lasts for almost a kilometre, and it is with a sudden rush of joy and relief that you gaze at a sign-board next to a long-fallen tree, that over the years has become a traditional resting place for trekkers who make it this far. Walk further for a kilometre or so, and you are greeted by another sign-board, welcoming you to Athirumala.
A night's rest at Athirumala after being provided with some basic but nourishing rice gruel for dinner, reinvigorates you for the hard routine in store for the next day. Start early, maintain a slow but steady pace, regulate your breaths—inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth—when weary, take short breaks and remain hydrated. Carrying energy bars/chocolates always help.
Remember you are not in a race with your co-trekkers to reach the top. Offer a helping hand when needed, sustain the momentum, lift sagging spirits—climb as a team. As they say in the Army: Never leave a buddy behind.
The six kilometres to the top begins with a long stretch under the green canopy littered with trunks of grand old trees, one that involves a bit of a climb and a few short climb-downs, but in relaxed mode. Once you touch Nadukanipara—named so, for its panoramic view of the entire region—the topography changes. From here, the trek gradually becomes more strenuous and tiring. Here, one can see signs on the rocks signalling the inter-state border of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, as well as tiny shacks housing idols, sacred groves and rudraksha trees.
The next significant landmark is Pongalappara, where devotees once offered pongala. A few streams scattered here and there offer a welcome sight to the thirsty.
A long-winding forest path uphill through muddy paths, dried, pebbled streams and protruding roots test not just your physical stamina, but your willpower too. A couple of short stretches can be crossed only with the help of ropes fitted on the side. Once that's done, get ready for the most exciting part of the whole trek—the almost vertical rock-climb to the summit. This involves surmounting three gigantic rocky mounts.
To help trekkers climb this tricky and dangerous stretch, overhead ropes dangle from the top. Most prefer to walk upright, hanging on to the rope for dear life. Ideally, doing the monkey-walk on all fours is much easier, but there are not many takers for it, as it requires a clever grasp of the rock and one's body weight. Those who have acrophobia (fear of heights) or suffer from asthma, should take a serious call before negotiating this bit. Adventure does thrill, but not at the cost of common sense.
But for those who can, standing atop, next to Agasthyar, is an amazing feeling. You can see the reservoirs—Peppara and Neyyar in Kerala—and Karayar in Tamil Nadu. The immense stillness surrounded by soft clouds leaves you overwhelmed with a deep sense of gratitude for being able to partake of such breathtaking grandeur.
Surprisingly, the climbdown proves more difficult, with your knees, calves and thigh muscles often acting up. But negotiate it one step at a time... and before you know, you are back at the base camp. Rest for the night. And begin the trek down, back to Bonacaud on the next day. Three days of trek... three days of sheer bliss.