We’d heard about the road to Munnar, one of the Riding Wonders of the World, and truly, the ride was spectacular. We rode through the aptly names Silent Valley, the silence only broken by the mighty roar from Phoebe’s Electra, the mule’s pipe was getting louder and louder every day, and we thundered through the valley, waking sleeping villagers from their mid afternoon siestas , scaring dogs, and causing birds to flee from the trees. Only the monkeys stayed put, watching us intently as we passed.We slept one more night in Juz’s room before getting up bright and early at Juz’s preferred time of 6am and started repacking the bikes.

With more hugs and waves from Juz’s mum, we rode back on to the main road, and began busting our way back out of the city, already the streets were crammed with vehicles of all types justling for superiority on the dusty , smoky, congested streets.

We left the choas behind, and started to climb once again, twisting, turning and snaking up and then down along mountain passes surrounded by lush green fields, we entered a canopy of thick forest , and monkeys stopped and watched us intently as we chugged past. Our mighty Enfields ticking comfortably beneath us. We passed reservoirs, streams, lakes and rivers, stopping along the way at viewpoints for photos or to snap a congregation of monkeys. We came to a bend where a bicycle was parked on its stand in the centre of the carriage way, and hand printed sign attached to the frame read SLOW MONKEYS.

Just beyond the bike we spotted a handful of black bodied monkeys with long white bears, he pulled his bike over to the side of the road, jumped off, and began searching for his camera.

-Very rare, Lion-tailed Mockock, endagered species, I have never clicked
He said as we approached. He retrieved his camera, pointed his long lens, and depressed the button, the shutter opening and closing a dozen times every second.

A forest warden approached Juz, as he was busy clicking. We saw Juz straighten up, put down his camera and start talking to the warden. The warden’s stern face softening and then lighting up.

Juz came over to us,
-I’d really like to take some photos of these guys, he said, waving towards the monkeys, but we’re not allowed to stop, so I’ve paid him, just 100 rupees, you can click too if you want-very rare these monkeys.

We took advantage of the bribe, and started photographing the monkeys as their curiosity grew and the drew closer and closer to us.

Juz’s camera now loaded with shots of these rare monkeys, we hit the winding road once more, climbing again higher into the mountains, up into the mist, which thickened with every curve until we popped out the other side and rode alongside a blanket of soft cloud, moistening the coffee bushes that crowded the slopes all around us, taking over the fertile land from the Tea plantations beneath.

The landscape was glorious, more shades of green than one could have thought possible. Tall palms, upright Beetle Trees, and the ferns, alternated in providing us with shade from the sun, and now protection form the cold. The wind was chilly, the sun shrouded by the mist could no longer warm our bodies, and I started to shiver. We stoped for Tea in a Tea shop right in the middle of a huge tea plantation, and sat dipping our biscuits into our delicious tea as we sat by a small waterfall, admiring the view.

We rode into Valparai and checked into our hotel for the night, a deserted behemoth of a place set up in the hills just out of town. We ordered dinner for the evening so the caretaker/manager/cook/cleaner could have time to shop, chop and prepare our meal and then headed back out to check out some of the local tea plantations, keeping a mindful eye out for elephants .

We went to an ex-colonail, Britisher Tea Plantation. The manager welcomed us and ushered into the grand reception hall for tea and the best pakora (or Pakoda) I had ever tasted. Phoebe delighted in a cup of proper tea, while Juz handed the Pakora around.

We toured the old house and then the gardens, and finally the stilt houses on the edge of the hill, looking out over the tea bushes as far as the eye could see in every direction.

The manager insisted on taking us to the owner’s second property, another ex Britisher Tea Plantation 15 minutes away. We followed along a track cut into the plantation, bushes rose up to our heads from the side of the road as we followed the manager on his chirpy Honda Hero.

Again, we were met with more Tea- which I had to decline being totally Tea’d out, but Phoebe joyfully accepted.

Sitting in this grand room ,it was easy to imagine what life life was like for the Britishers that owned and ran these estate.

Teams of smartly dressed Indian boys brought us trays of biscuits, more tea, and water. In the living room, paintings of Elephants, Tigers and leopards adorned the walls.
Everything here was antique, the clocks, the rugs, even the tea service. We were led through more tea fields, and were startled by the second world war air raid siren that whirred into life at 5.30.

I looked worriedly at the manager
-It’s the end of the day for the pickers and the workers, he explained. There is one at 8am for the start of the day, one to signal lunch, and this is the final alarm. There is no need to worry.

We slowly returned to the main house where more tea and snacks awaited. Juzs and the manager talked business while Phoebe and I looked around the magnificent house. Juz was planning a tour and was looking for places to bring his customers, and these Tea plantations were high on his list.

About half an hour later, Juz and the manager rejoined us, as we watched the sun set over the tea bushes .from the veranda.

A shrill series of electronic bleeps followed by an inaudiblemetallic announcment came from over the hill.

-This one you can worry about, said the manager-this is a warning that there are Elephants on the road.
-We should go find them. I had heeded Juz’s warning , but I still longed to see elephants walking the streets.
-We should’ replied Juz, but make sure you are ready to turn if I make a signal, and if the road gets narrow, just drop the bike and run, there is no time to manoevre
Excitedly we said our goodbyes and thank yous to the manager and his team, jumpedon our bikes and fired up the engines. We rolled out of he plantation under a bright orange sky, and started twisting back down the bumpy driveway and onto the highway. Our return journey was , alas, elephant free.

Dinner was served outside our shared room back in Valpari, a large silver tray of rice and a selection of chutneys and gravys as well as a pot full of chapatis. We got stuck in, told Juz what we’d thought about the plantations-both getting rave reviews from us, before hitting the sack, exhausted, alittle after 9pm. Another early start was in store.

Breakfast was delivered to our door at 7am, more chapatis, gravy and chutney, but this time served with a dosa. We ate while Phoebe made coffee with Avin’s grounds and her ingenious sock. We packed quickly and left before 8. We had a long but beautiful ride ahead of us according to Juz, who was getting to know our stoping habits-stopping for photos, water, stretches and smokes on a fairly regular basis, and he wanted us to get an early start.

We rode back onto the highway and were instantly surrounded by lush green tea bushes, the colours even more vivid in the morning sun, a thin layer of mist lay on the leaves as we wound our way out of Valparai towards our next desination, Munnar.

We had agreed with Juz to take the longer route, a mere 7 hour detour that would give us a few extra hairpin bends, take us past more recervoirs, dams and temples, but meant we would have to go through Chalakudi, a big city a hundred or so kms from Valaparai.

Chalakudi came upon us withiut warning. We went from riding quiet mountain roads to being in the midst of a full on onslaught within a few kilomteres. The traffic was wild. Along the 4 lane highway there was utter chaos, cows nonchelantly plodded along the fast lane, busses stopped randomly to let passenegers off and on, tuk tuk swerved violently , schoolchildren road bicycles and the smoke breathing trucks barrlelled along. We tucked in behing Juz and followed slowly, into the city and out the other side. On the outskirts of town, we pulled into a gas station and Juz had words with me.

He’d seen me loose my temper and berate one of the drivers who was forcing me out of my lane. At first I protested, I was trying to protect Phoebe, but the cars still made their way into the gap between us. At one time I had stopped my bike, put it on the stand, and walked over to the driver’s window to yell at him.

-There’s just no point Danny, he told me calmly- You will not change these driver’s, they just don’t know any better
-Which is why I want to teach them a lesson
- But no Danny, this is not your job, your job is to stay out of their way. Don’t get hot and angry, it will not help.
He was right, shouting at someone wasn’t going to change anything. The drivers in the big cities infuriated me, blocking lanes as they tried to overtake slower vehicles, blocking our –white line- path at the same time. I was even more stressed because I was trying to guard Phoebe’s rear as well as my own, and I wasn’t doing a great job.
We’re faster, more nimble and can squeeze through gaps, but instead we were forced into the dusty roadside. Horns blared constantly, and my senses were overpowered.
-If someone is annoying you, if they get too close, or if they are dangerous, just pull over and wave them past, it will make your life easier, and probably longer too-Juz said wisely.

Duly reprimanded, I hugged it out with Juz, and the three of us gassed up, cooled down with a fresh coconut and got the hell out of Chalakudi, climbig again as we rode the switchbacks and hairpins up to Munnar.

We’d heard about the road to Munnar, one of the Riding Wonders of the World, and truly, the ride was spectacular. We rode through the aptly names Silent Valley, the silence only broken by the mighty roar from Phoebe’s Electra, the mule’s pipe was getting louder and louder every day, and we thundered through the valley, waking sleeping villagers from their mid afternoon siestas , scaring dogs, and causing birds to flee from the trees. Only the monkeys stayed put, watching us intently as we passed.

The air grew fresher as we climbed through more lush green hillsides, valleys and forests, we hit another blanket of misty cloud, our wonderful view tempoarily obscured before we broke through the thin blanket of cloud, to be rewarded with more peaks in the distance.

The sun set as we were still climbing, and we said goodbye to our panorama as the night drew in, gutted that the final part of our scenic ride to Munnar would be in the dark, knowing how amazing the views would be in the daylight.
We only had another half our or so before we reached Munnar, a busy, neon lit hub .