Ooty: On the Roof of South India

The guest house’s quiet location overlooking a corner of the lake is a five-minute stroll from the train station, where you can pick up a taxi if you can’t face the half-hour walk past the racecourse and municipal market to Charing Cross. There are eleven rooms, made up of nine doubles, one single and a four bed dorm, split between the main house and a two-storey brick annexe up a flight of stairs behind. Rooms in the main house are fifty rupees cheaper and have hot showers for most of the day thanks to solar heating panels in the roof. The annexe has hot water between 6 and 10 in the morning but is a much more peaceful place to stay with large windows facing out on the lake and a small, grassy terrace in front with flowers and wooden benches.

My double room (300 rupees in mid-November but dearer in high season) was basic but homely, with pale yellow walls and fragrant, spotlessly clean blankets spread across the bed. A full-size mirror and a small table stood either side of the headboard, and the wall opposite was covered by a wardrobe with more storage space than any backpacker will ever need. The attached bathroom had a western toilet, a sink and a shower that, unlike many in India, had a temperature setting that didn’t just alternate between freezing cold and scalding hot. The only downside was the cold - with night-time temperatures touching freezing, it wasn’t easy getting to sleep in an unheated room with a corrugated metal roof, stone walls and tiled floors. I spent every night fully clothed, wrapped mummy-like in my sleeping bag, and the following morning racing across the ice-block floor to the shower. If you’re staying here in winter and don‘t like the cold, ask the owner for an extra blanket or two and buy some warm clothing in town when you arrive.

It’s the atmosphere that makes Reflections such a great place to stay. The friendly owner is a mine of information on travel plans and nearby hikes, and can organise day treks in the surrounding mountains. In the evenings, the communal room is a great place to sit and relax, with two wooden tables where you can eat home-cooked meals and padded chairs that can be arranged around an open fire. The costs of the fire are split among the guests, most of whom were young European backpackers on their way to Kerala or one of the nearby national parks. Aside from the cold, Reflections was probably the best place I stayed in my two months in India.

The ride out is almost as good as the views over the valley: the bus jolts up and down round the far side of the hill behind the race course, passing whitewashed houses on one side and farm workers harvesting fields by hand on the other. The valley itself, which in its entirety extends all the way from the plains of Coimbatore to the Mysore plateau, is a eucalyptus tree dotted patchwork of greens and browns cut diagonally through one corner by the Nilgiris railway as it runs upwards between Ketti and Lovedale.

The only problem is, even without the hotel, you could never describe Valley View as one of Ooty’s more peaceful spots. Buses and cars and lorries rattle along the road every few minutes, spluttering exhaust fumes and dust. Nor is it the comfortable place to kick back and relax - you can choose between the observation platform and its viewfinders or the narrow hill-like strip of grass right by the edge of the road.

I spent 20 minutes looking over the valley before wandering along to the few buildings and the bus shelter at Manthada, just before the next bend in the road in the direction to Coonoor. No matter what the people in Ooty tell you, a trip to Valley View’s no more than a nice way to pass an hour if you want to get out of town for a while. If you just need a quiet sit down, try the rose gardens instead and see the valley from the train window on the way down to Coonoor.

After twenty minutes we’re finally out into open grassland, stems brushing my chin. Then it’s back amidst the thorns and huge clumps of mud. By the time we join hands to ford a fast-moving stream my hiking shoes are squelching with every step and my trousers are soaked to the knee. As yet we’ve seen nothing but clouds and grass.

We stop after an hour and a half for a twenty-minute break on a flat-topped rock. The guide tells us he slept here on another trek last year but had to strike camp during the night when a wild elephant attacked. I’m not sure I believe him, but it makes an interesting story anyway. I’m beginning to wish I’d had more than three hours sleep and a glass of tea in the morning when we start up again, winding our way between trees and branches as the track slopes up and down.

As we get further into the trek we begin to see life: spotted deer at first, then a water buffalo and a bison gnawing at a tree trunk. Suddenly there are excited smiles and pointed fingers, and the black shape of an elephant moves almost silently between the trees, no more than eighty or a hundred metres ahead of us. The guides are relieved, the customers happy. We get back to the hotel at 10am, wet up to our chests, shoes poking through the mud, take a cold bucket shower by the squat toilet and head over to the village restaurant for dosa and tea.

We organised our morning stroll with the reliable Jungle Tour Operator Mudumalai (itsmeshiva2005@yahoo.co.in), which has open-fronted premises in Masinagudi near where the shared jeeps leave for Bandipur National Park. They ask 300 rupees per person for the three and a half hour trek, but will bargain for groups. The hike isn't particularly taxing with no long climbs and mainly even terrain, but you'll need to take your own food and water. A long sleeved top is essential and waterproof trousers and shoes make things a lot more comfortable.

Laid out in 1995 to celebrate a hundred years of the local flower show, the hillside garden has over twenty thousand plants and more than two thousand different rose species. The gardens are split into five terraces, each linked by curving staircases. Hexagonal stone paths run horizontally across the neatly trimmed, spongy grass on each level, linking rose bushes that flourish almost the whole year round. Admission costs just 10 rupees, though you'll have to pay an extra 30 rupees per camera and 150 rupees for a camcorder.

Although the lower levels are slightly overgrown, the top two terraces, decorated with Japanese lanterns, sculptures and foliage covered arches, are immaculate. Ankle high hedges border fragrant rose bushes with names like Melody Maker, Glory Days and Soaring Wings. Wooden platforms and benches shaded by stone parasols look back over the town, while sari clad workers dust the paths and tend to the rose beds. In the centre, a large pavilion with silver balustrades and a camouflage ceiling looks like a cross between a Greek Doric temple and a wedding reception marquee.

I found the Rose Garden much more peaceful than the larger Botanical Gardens, the only other place in Ooty where you can comfortably stretch out on the grass. The views here are better too - clean across town to the forested hills beyond, and far enough away from the crowded centre to escape most of the noise. There is one downside to the location, however - it's a short but steep climb to the entrance if you're walking, and disabled access between the terraces is non-existent.

We piled out by the park reception office and passed the 70 rupee fare for the final tour of the day through a small window in the side of the building. A few minutes later, shortly before six, the minibus rolled up to the verandah, spluttering dust and diesel fumes. As we stepped onboard, a mute boy was selling peanuts wrapped in newspaper cones for 4 rupees a bag.

I never expected to see a great deal of wildlife rattling noisily along a tarmacked road on a decrepit bus: for most of the forty-five minute long tour we sat with our faces turned to the dirty glass, seeing nothing but trees. Thankfully, halfway through the ride the bus pulled over by a watchtower and we wandered slowly down the bank towards the Moyar Waterfall, cascading right to left between forested peaks into a muddy pool on the far side of the valley.

Things improved towards the end. On successive bends we passed wild boar and small groups of chattal grazing head down by the side of the road. Each time, the minibus slowed to a halt and twenty cameras went off simultaneously.

The only animals you're guaranteed to see are the ones at the elephant camp, just a few hundred metres before the bus returns to the reception centre. As we crawled past, an elephant curled its trunk around a tree branch and turned to face the road. Part of its training, perhaps?

At the time of my visit, the bus tours were the only way to see Mudumalai - the elephant tours had been suspended and private vehicles and hiking are permanently banned. Although we got seats just by turning up, it's best to book in advance at the WWO office in Ooty if you possibly can, as the tours, which run from half past six to nine in the morning and again from four to six in the afternoon, are very popular with domestic tourists.

The gardens split naturally into two distinct spaces, further sub-divided into themed areas of varying sizes and design. At the back, shaded paths run up and down the forested hillside - despite the number of steps, the walks are peaceful and not too taxing. The flat land nearer the entrance is far busier, with Japanese and Italian style gardens, a Victorian greenhouse, lily ponds, yellow park benches and lush green lawns packed with holidaymakers and school trips.

The Japanese Garden is the least impressive of the themed areas, suffering primarily from a lack of space: cobbled paths loop around knee-high flower beds, but there's nowhere to sit and only a few stone lanterns provide any kind of national identity. I much preferred the larger Italian Gardens, where sculpted terraces and circular and oval shaped flower beds fringe an elongated pond. The brightly coloured viewpoints above, shaded by parasol shaped roofs, have great views back over the gardens.

There are lots of lovely touches dotted around: a Victorian fern house, hedges cut into animal shapes, a twenty million year old fossilised tree trunk and a floral map of India with each state represented by a different cluster of flowers. In the middle of it all is the large greenhouse with thousands of flowers and ornamental trees in neatly ordered rows, some of which you can buy from a sales counter in the corner. It's all wonderfully well-kept, clean and organised into colourful displays with English signs and lots of places to sit and relax.

The Botanical Gardens are open daily from 8 - 6.30pm. Admission is 10 rupees per person plus 30 rupees per camera.