We've made friends with a young Indian who is the manager of one of Fort Cochin's exclusive hotels and who assures us that he can organize virtually anything. He promises us a first rate experience and a driver who has the three keys to success on the challenging highways: good brakes, a good horn, and good luck.
After a fair bit of rationalizing and saying things like, "Well, at least we'll be together if something awful should happen", we book the trip.
On a hot Saturday morning, we meet Sobit, our driver, at the guest house. He exudes confidence and is driving a newish car. We're feeling pretty optimistic as we fasten our seat belts (seat belts!) and the journey begins. We leave quiet Fort Cochin and enter the city of Kochi which is chock-a-block full of bumper to bumper traffic. Over the course of the next two hours, we slowly inch our way through it.
Finally, we're out of the city and it seems no time at all before we begin climbing into the hills. Soon we are surrounded by rubber tree groves, eucalyptus forests, and cardamon, pepper, tumeric, coffee and cashew plantations. We are reminded that we are in the spice capital of the world and savor the smells and sights surrounding us.
The road narrows as we climb higher and higher and features one breathtaking hairpin turn after another. Sobit leans on his good horn to warn other vehicles that we are just around the corner. We drive through spectacular tea plantations, one upon the other as far as the eye can see, and still we climb.
At a particularly beautiful lookout, Sobit stops and we get out of the car to take some pictures. It is here that he tells us that he has learned by phone that the road is blocked ahead and won't be open for several hours. He knows of a short cut he can take but we elect to wait and see what happens.
The road block is not far away and our trip grinds to a halt. We both break out a book for what will be at least a two hour wait. Our attention is drawn, however, to a large bus stopped right in front of us. The male passengers have all disembarked and are visiting loudly and with much good humor outside the bus. Soon we hear the unmistakable sounds of Bollywood music and before long, there is "dancing in the streets," high in the hills of southern India on a narrow mountain road.
The sun is setting quickly now and we're enveloped in darkness. Up ahead we see headlights approaching, a sign that the road has reopened. Finally, it's our turn to move and we resume the long journey to Munnar.
Nine hours after we started out, we arrive at the lodge where we are supposed to stay. We aren't totally surprised to learn that there's been a change in plans and that we'll be staying "just down the road."
We pull into the Shamrock Guest House, perched high on a hill overlooking a steep valley. We are met by the young manager who walks us to our very private room. It's a suite really, utterly spartan but clean. He opens the doors onto a terrace and says, "In the morning you will see beautiful views. And at night, the sun sets right in front."
He offers to cook and bring supper for us which he does and for which we are very grateful.
The next morning we are stunned by the vista before us. We are literally hanging from a cliff and below us is an unbelievable landscape completely reminiscent of Nepal. We see tea plantations covering the distant mountains and right underneath us, perched on the steep hillside, sits a village full of people, goats, and chickens.
We instantly fall in love with this place and are very glad we took our chances on yet another Indian road trip.
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