The Nilgiri mountain train

My lovely Grandmother on the train in 1975

My lovely wife on the same train almost 40 years later

Without a doubt one of the most charming and exciting features of our part of Tamil Nadu is the Nilgiri mountain steam train. From the stuffy, noisy, polluted town that is Mettupalayam the train swoops you up into the hills away above the dust and palm trees of the plains and into the cool clean airs of Coonoor and Ooty. The railway was first built in 1908 by the British to provide access to Ooty (2.2 km above sea level) which was popular with ex-pats seeking a break from the heat. The engine and its carriages have been preserved, restored or, in the case of the steam engine, replaced with similar though slightly updated versions as the older ones wear out. It is evident that a lot of thought and resources have gone into preserving the train and as a result tourists are drawn from all over India and the world to be pushed up the hill by this nostalgic marvel.

The train also holds a special place in my family history. When my mother was young her parents were missionaries in north eastern India and they sent their three children to boarding school in Coonoor and later Ooty. My mum would often tell us stories about her time in India; her various cats, her dad's agricultural projects, (the local swear words she learned) and the amazing steam train that would carry them up the mountain to school over ravines and through elephant inhabited jungle. Apparently when the train passed over a ravine and all the passengers would rush to one side to take pictures and a little version of my mother would run to the other side to counterbalance the carriage and prevent it tipping over the edge!

The steam train filling with water at the staion

Since we arrived I've been gagging to go on the railway and finally this week we got our chance. We woke at 5:30am in a very muggy, overpriced Mettupalayam hotel room after a rotten night's sleep. Nevertheless we got up and out, driven more by excitement than anything else. Booking the train is a well documented nightmare due to it's popularity. The station was jam packed with all sorts of sight seers; young raggedy traveller types adorned with tattoos, bushy beards and no shoes, many an older face looking clean, composed but slightly harassed, gaggles of Indian teens with their western clothes and Justin Bieber in their ears and hearts and tri-generational Indian families on holiday together. Despite most everyone having a pre-booked ticket there is a little of stress and strife over who will be going on this train. Luckily for us we have friends in high places. One of our church friends works on the train and managed to pull some strings to get us a really decent window seat at fairly short notice. That being said we did have a slightly nervous hour on the station waiting  and wondering if said strings could and would be pulled. Finally at 7:10am the trained pulled away from the station in a cacophonous eruption of steam and smoke leaving a few disgruntled would-be passengers abandoned on the platform, their day spoilt. Our day, however, was just beginning.

We ascend into the clouds

The train takes three hours to climb the hill to Coonoor where it waits in the station for 40 minutes while the steam engine is replaced with a diesel engine which continues the journey for a further hour and half up to Ooty. The track bends and twists its way gradually up the hill making regular stops to fill up with water and let the passengers stretch cramped legs and exercise itching camera fingers. The first half of the journey up to Coonoor sees the track traverse rocky ravines large and small with stone and steel bridges that rattle and creak as you pass over them. Waterfalls can be seen tumbling down rock and filling pools before gurgling into the distance. Flowering shrubs and trees and bindweed in many vibrant colours grow everywhere, their colours and varieties changing as the altitude goes up and the temperature goes down. You find yourself plunging into the hills themselves when the train pushes you into a tunnel and the sound from the engine is magnified and bounced off the walls while the vapour of the steam and the smoke of the engine invades through open windows. Every window has an elbow occupying it, and as the windows slide neatly away it's not uncommon to see a camera wielding so-and-so leaning treacherously far out to get a better shot of the train as it ascends (yours truly being an example of such). In fact the nostalgic aura of the train is somewhat spoilt by the multitude of camera phones sprouting from each window capturing inane photos of the ground or badly aimed videos of the air but that can hardly be helped.

Another scheduled tank fill and leg stretch

The second half of the trip delivers some truly spectacular views of the hills and the plains below. Gigantic rocky outcrops soar above the jungle on the opposite side of the valley where thousands of trees are reduced to a far off misty blur of steep vegetation. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of the road below with it's hairpin bends and it's fast paced jostling of road users trying to be king of the hill and you sigh with pleasure because even though your journey will take three times as long, it is ten times more relaxing and countless times more beautiful. When the train gets nearer Coonoor it stops at two stations, Hillgrove and Runnymede, who's names betray their founders nationality as plain as day, and passengers disembark to enjoy a snack shop and avoid evil looking Makaks. When the train finally draws level with the Glendale tea factory you're treated to some truly idyllic views of the tea gardens spreading up the hills and around brooks as they make their passage downhill. The patchwork of tea plants spreading over every hill in neat uniformity is nothing short of sublime and I doubt I will ever grow used to the sight.

Beginning the push to Ooty

Once in Coonoor (1.8 km up), and after the steam engine has been relieved, the diesel engine completes the journey to Ooty. The train quickly passes through a small village called Wellington which was named for Sir Arthur Wellesley and climbs through a eucalyptus forest and out onto the roof of the world. You really do get the feeling you are high as it gets as the ground opens out and you can see hilltops spreading before you as far as the eye can see, yet still the train continues it's steady climb. The route takes you past evidence of another of the Nilgiris top exports, flowers. Small communities congregate around poly tunnels and irrigation ditches to cultivate small multicoloured allotments growing anything from gerberas to peace lilies. As the train nears Ooty the ground levels out somewhat and the short cropped grass, gorse bushes and bare rocks put you somewhat in mind of the New Forest. Seemingly out of nowhere there appears a lake dotted with pedalos which signals your arrival into Ooty (or as the stations sign confusingly reads, 'Udhagamandalam')

The descent from Ooty is, as you would expect, much the same but in reverse. It's just as picturesque on the way down however there are less stops for water as the steam engines only job is to act as a brake to prevent the carriages careering downhill out of control.

Looking down the tracks 

Thundering over ravines

Plunging into tunnels

The whole experience of riding the train, the chuffa-chuffa of the engine, the precipitous drops and soaring heights, the vast views and clackaty bridges, the smoky tunnels and plunging waterfalls, the dense forest and the oldy-worldy wooden carriages all combine to make riding the Nilgiri mountain train a real treat. And considering a standard ticket weighs in at a ridiculous 15p (as long as you can book it) taking this train if you get the chance is a total no brainer. Every now and then I would imagine a little version of my mother in the same seat, or standing on the same platform, or more likely running away from a Makak. Catching the train with her scruffy little brother and cute little sister all those years ago, it really feels like we visited a small part of my heritage today.