"It's very dangerous here..."

Ooty was lovely. A hill station up a mountain, the weather hovered in the mid teens and was incredibly refreshing from the heat and humidity of the rest of India. We had arranged to stay at a homestay halfway up a mountain surrounded by terraces of tea.

Hazel insisted that we go to the man made lake in the centre of Ooty and have a go on the pedaloes. This was Ooty's answer to Disney World. After a full hour on the pedaloes Hazel decided that that was quite enough fun for the day and we now had to find a drink to steady our nerves. This is not easy in Ooty. The only place that we could find to drink alcohol was a 5 star hotel up a mountain where the waiter stood beside us and topped up our pint glasses if we even looked at our drinks.

The next day we booked a trip through our homestay for a days trek. This was incredibly good fun although very tiring. Two staff from the homestay took us in a four by four around the 36 hairpin bends down into the neighbouring valley where we were joined by two men from one of the local hill tribes. The six off us set off into the scrub with the one person who spoke English gesturing at the mountain in front of us and saying 'up there'. Right. 

A quick shimmy through the fields, over a river and passed some lowing cows and we had started a near vertical assent. Our 4 guides (which seemed excessive at the time) seemed to have no bother sprinting up in front of us, laughing and joking and taking mobile phone calls. The one in front hacked a path with his machete and they all just kept going without even breaking sweat. By the time we reached the plateau we were dripping and could barely speak for trying to breath.  

After that the walk eased off a bit (perhaps they took pity?) we got to have a look at the flora and fauna. Our tribesman guides pointed out things and our man from the homestay attempted translation. We wondered if we were getting the full benefit of the tribesman's wisdom when after a lengthy explanation our English speaker turned to us and nodded at a large tree and said "its a tree". 

We did manage to find termite mounds, bee hives and an elephant skull. This all seemed pretty cool to us and we'd have been happy with the elephant tracks and the skull, but there was more to come. 

We were walking down a sort of wide grassy pathway in between forest high on the mountain side. It was flat which made a nice change. All of a sudden our guide with the machete made urgent noises, appeared to blanche and urged us quickly backwards running himself. He had spotted the most dangerous beast in the jungle and it was headed our way. A female elephant with her calf. We could hear the elephant trumpet behind us. All I could think of is how to explain to Hazel's mother how I was really sorry but Hazel just couldn't run as quick as the rest of us. 

Once he'd gathered himself he approached the elephant again and redirected her into another part of the forest using the ancient technique of clapping his hands. We heard her crashing through the forest beside us and were again urged to run in the opposite direction. 

The adrenalin rush seemed to bond us as a group and we all laughed with relief. Our English speaker confided in us as we settled down for lunch with a view over the valley; "It's very dangerous here, only local people come no foreigners". Right.