The trekker never ages

And in a long trek, it is the tortoise, not the rabbit, that has the last laugh

It was a cold night at Athirumala in January 2019. We trekkers, weary from the trudge to this base camp of the Agasthya mountain, some 60 km from Thiruvananthapuram on the lap of the Western Ghats, were getting ready to hit the sack after a quick supper of rice gruel and green gram.

We had started from Bonacaud, about 50 km from Kerala’s capital city, around 8.30 a.m. The murmur, music and silence of the forest were mesmerising. As I had befriended a few engineering students from Thrissur, we shared food, took bath at every stream and waterfall and reached the base camp around 4 p.m.

The ascent to the peak would begin next morning. The camp was a couple of sheet-roofed sheds. It was there that I met Kulandai Velu from Tiruchirapalli. I was doubtful if this 71-year-old lean man, a retired engineer, could make it to the peak.

But trekking has been a way of life for him, visiting Amarnath, Vaishno Devi and Sabarimala several times. This was his second trip to Agasthyamala. Even his trekking trips to the North were mostly unorganised, taking the easiest available transport, staying where it is safe, and joining a compatible group. He was greatly disappointed that he could not make it to Mansarovar as the upper age limit for that expedition is 70.

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In a long trek, it is the tortoise and not the rabbit that has the last laugh. After a successful trek, you should be able to follow your daily routine the very next morning with renewed vigour, he says.

We had a disturbed sleep that night. The thick blankets did not fend off the cold. The cement floor felt like an ice block. Chilly wind crept in through every crack.

At 7 a.m., the steep ascent began, and we crawled and moved on all fours at times. It took almost four hours to the top. The view from more than 6,000 feet above sea level just could not be described in words. On the one side at a distance was the Ambasamudram river and on the other, the Peppara and Neyyar dams in Thiruvananthapuram. I surrendered to the magical aura of the mighty mountain.

After spending a couple of hours atop, we began our descent. On the dense forest path, we heard trumpets of elephants at two or three locations. Back at the camp around 3.30 p.m., the gruel and green gram were waiting for us. The next morning, around 8 a.m., after a frugal breakfast, I enquired about Kulandai Velu. He had but left early.

Two years have passed, but we maintain our friendship through occasional phone calls. A few weeks ago, I called him. There he was, healthy and energetic as ever. As trekking sites are closed because of the pandemic, he has adopted brisk walking for about 10 km each morning. Well, that is simple for this wonderful young man of 74.

eppavi@gmail.com