Mount Abu
India
It was a peaceful 45-minute drive from a nearby train station to the town of Mount Abu, steadily climbing higher and higher on a winding road with little traffic but countless Hanuman langurs (black-faced monkeys). A heavy haze hung over the forest, which slowly dissipated as we gained altitude. It was the first time we had seen real mountains in India and I was excited to explore them.
Mount Abu was a former hill station, used as a summer retreat by the British in the 19th and 20th centuries. It sits at 1,220m asl, resulting in a much cooler climate than Jodhpur or Jaisalmer. The town was centred around a few main roads on the southeast side of Nakki Lake. Each street was lined with food stalls, more bars and liquor stores than we had come across in all of India so far (they really aren't a drinking nation - we've almost never seen alcohol serv ed at restaurants) and a disconcerting number of gun shops - no licence required. Nearly all road and informational signs were only in Hindi, as well as the menu at several eateries (Google Translate to the rescue). It seemed like not many Westerners made the journey out here. The vibe was much calmer than anywhere else we had visited, despite the relentless calls from taxis and touts.
After grabbing a quick lunch we set off on our first hike to Trevor's Tank, a man-made lake built in 1897 as a place to relax for the British. (I use the term 'hike' loosely in Mount Abu, as most of the walks around here were along paved surfaces.) The entrance was 3 km from town along a shady road, with patches of palm trees and occasional glimpses of towering mountains. While there was a steady stream of traffic and accompanying horns, the madness was greatly reduced compared to our previous experiences.
At the entry gate to Trevor's Tank we were unexpectedly stung with a hefty fee that (we decided later) was not at all justified. After handing over the cash, we set off along a dirt road, slowly climbing uphill towards the lake. The sound of birds filled the air, but we rarely spotted their source. We arrived at the picturesque lake to find it was surprisingly clean, with several lookout points dotted around the surrounding hills. Mostly cloudy skies meant that we were only afforded grey views, except for a brief moment when the sun shone for all of 5 seconds. A sign warned of crocodiles in the lake (it was formerly a crocodile breeding area) but online reports suggested there hadn't been any crocodiles here for a while. Likewise, we were told to keep an eye out for sloth bears, but I think the chances of seeing the elusive creatures were slim to none. We did see plenty of Hanuman langurs, our only wildlife spotting in the park. There was another lake a further 2 km down the road, but as it was late in the day we didn't have time to explore it. (A couple of days later, as I was walking up to Guru Shikhar, I snuck in a back entrance to view this lake. The water level was low but its surface provided crystal clear reflections in the early morning light.)
At night time the town suddenly came alive with a carnival atmosphere - bright lights, pumping music, kids entertainment, balloons, a dozen or so identical ice cream shops, an amusement park, a 9D cinema, an 11D cinema, a 12D cinema (what are all these D's??) - the list goes on. Being New Year's Eve meant the festivities were grander than usual, but it was clear that the town had been set up as a resort location. The obligatory fireworks went off at midnight, by which time we were already in bed asleep.
I had read about the Plummy Peak hike online and it sounded like exactly the sort of trek I would love. There were only 2 problems:
- I could not find Plummy Peak on any map I had
- everyone who mentioned it online had gone with a guide.
I gathered as much information as I could before setting out for an unmarked trail that would hopefully lead us up the mountain.
We followed the main road out of town for 2 km before turning onto a quiet, leafy dirt road. This led us to an actual trail, only wide enough for one person - the first proper trail I had seen in India. It was overgrown, slippery, full of spiderwebs and remarkably free of rubbish: exactly what a trail should be. It wasn't long before we hit a wide river, which the map told us we needed to cross. Without a bridge in sight, we had to hop from rock to rock to safely make it across. We then found ourselves on another dirt road that escorted us straight into a military camp. Twenty or so soldiers with gigantic guns were attending a briefing as we nervously approached the site. One of the soldiers wandered over to us, asking if we had been given permission to be there (we hadn't), offering us tea (no thank you) before kindly asking us to leave. His parting message was to watch out for bears and jaguars.
That was the end of Plummy Peak.
From our failed Plummy Peak trek we walked back along the road towards Mount Abu, stopping for a snack at a street cart on the way (the best aloo paratha in the entire world). Before reaching town, we turned off down a shady, paved road in the direction of Gaumukh Temple. The road slowly carried us up to a lookout point across the next valley, where all we could see was a wall of white clouds. It was disappointing, given the clear blue skies overhead. From there, the path went in one direction: straight down. Hundreds and hundreds of concrete steps (I counted almost 800 in total) twisted and turned through an unruly forest, which thankfully kept us sheltered from the sun. Near the bottom was a mini stepwell, with a cow head sculpture dribbling water into an almost empty pool. The temple itself wasn't anything to write home about, but a Hindu priest working there was kind enough to give us some dates and a banana to fuel us for the return hike. We very much appreciated the gift.
Once we had completed the lung-busting climb, we retraced our steps back down the road. Along here Danny's keen eye spotted an Indian grey mongoose in the distance, an animal I didn't even know existed in this region. It gazed at us while we stared at it until it ran off into the bushes. It was at this moment I noticed a path on my map that appeared to lead to a lake. Even though we hadn't read about anyone else undertaking this trek, we decided to take the gamble and explore it. The path quickly turned into a trail bordered by spiky cacti and other succulents. We lost the path a few times and needed to scramble in some sections, but eventually we arrived at a dam wall bordering Upper Kodra Lake. The view from the top of the wall was amazing. Clean, blue-green water, trees all around, no vehicle within earshot - I couldn't believe we were still in India. We sat on the wall in the sun, soaking up the serenity. I wish there were more hikes like this around Mount Abu.
Late in the afternoon, we walked around the north side of Nakki Lake to Honeymoon Point. Around 200 people had congregated across the multilevel viewpoint to watch the sunset, which at this time of year was partially obscured by the side of a mountain. It also didn't help that we were looking straight into a hazy valley, where landscape features were barely distinguishable. It was better than most sunsets I had attempted (and failed) to watch in India, but it wasn't spectacular.
On our way back around the lake, we saw several people pointing and staring into the forest on the opposite side to the water. To our disbelief, only 20 or so metres away were 2 sloth bears foraging for food (thankfully behind a low barrier). Although we had heard they live in this area, we never expected to see them in the wild. We stood and observed their rummaging, trying to take photos but not achieving much success with trees blocking the way and the low light levels. This experience alone made the trek to Honeymoon Point worthwhile.
Guru Shikhar, sitting at 1,722 m, is the tallest peak in Rajasthan. My aim was to hike up to the summit, located 15 km from town. As the entire route was along the road, it was a straightforward but lengthy return hike. I started early, beating the traffic and the blistering temperatures. The road undulated for the first few kilometres before turning uphill, although the gradient never seemed too steep. Other than a few herds of water buffalo there wasn't much to look at, so I just put my head down and pushed on.
The final few kilometres involved a series of switchbacks, where I was given increasingly higher views of the surrounding countryside. Looking out above the horizon I could see a distinct line, above which were clear blue skies and below was a grey pollution haze. It was a little sickening to think that we were travelling through and breathing in that air 24/7. I could just make out the peaks of distant mountains through the murkiness, giving a hint of what the view would offer outside of winter.
I encountered thousands of people at the top of the road, from where I had to climb about 300 congested steps lined with souvenir and food stalls. A tiny temple stood on the summit, but I was more interested in the view. The south side showed me nothing more than what I had witnessed on the walk up, while the north side offered a couple of buildings on a nearby peak and not much else. It didn't blow me away, but again maybe it was the wrong time of year.
Coming down I passed a steady stream of cars and bikes making their way up - I was glad I left when I did. On the way back to town I stopped at Dilwara Jain Temple, built between the 11th and 16th centuries. It was a shame no cameras were allowed, because it was stunning. Inside there were 5 temples, each constructed with beautifully carved white marble. I didn't know what any of it represented, but it was awe inspiring just to look at.
Once back in Mount Abu, I completed a quick trek around the south side of Nakki Lake, taking in the viewpoints from Toad Rock (I couldn’t make out the toad) and Bailey's Trail. Continuing on to Honeymoon Point, I discovered there were other, unobstructed lookout points in the area, which provided a more impressive view than our first outing here. The tops of distant mountains could be seen through the smog, their silhouette disappearing into the nothingness below. I wished I could have taken in the view on a clear day.
I had originally wanted to catch the sunset from Sunset Point, but when I discovered the entrance fee was 565 rupees (about A$9.50) just to watch an event I could watch for free in other locations, I gave up on that idea and headed (for the third time) to Honeymoon Point. The haze levels were at their worst today so the view wasn't as clear, but the superior vantage point meant the event was much more mesmerising than our first sunset here.
