Lost in the jungles of Ahumullekanda
It was no ordinary day. Yes, we can say that now. Saturday, February 10, 2007. For us, the day started at 4 in the morning with the alarm virtually pushing us out of bed. Sandwiches had to be made; water bottles filled and my wife Jayanthi and our daughter Yasangie got ready in time. All accomplished, we drove to our friend Mohan’s.
It was a beautiful morning and our spirits were high as we approached Mohan’s house. Although the gate was wide open only a few lights were on and Yasangie was sure that the trip was off. But another friend Ranjith emerged – the trip was on.
While we were having our customary coffee in Mohan’s dining room Shiromi walked in and a few minutes later Bunty. The pack was complete – seven of us were going on the trip.
Bandara, the young driver from Kundasale was at the gate with his van. We piled in to the van at about 7.15 and started, taking in the breathtaking view of the Kandy Lake bathed in the morning sun and the glistening gold of the Temple of the Tooth.
There were continuous jokes, small talk and happy banter all the way. As we reached Nuwara Eliya we had discussed, expressed our opinions and argued on the Paranormal, mind body medicine, and coffee plantations of Papua New Guinea and many more topics. Half past noon we parked near the Food City to replenish our stocks and to buy what was needed for the merrymaking in the evening. Nuwara Eliya was experiencing a power failure and the Food City cashiers were laboriously writing receipts while the queues were lengthening by the minute. As we look back we know things were predetermined for us by an unseen hand and that is how Mohan met his good friend Clive at that very moment. Clive, a well-respected retired planter insisted that we should come with him to the Golf Club straightaway before going for lunch at the Meena Ella Bungalow.
Clive hosted us to beer while the ladies (Shiromi, Jayanthi and Yasangie) enjoyed a walk to the town. We lost track of time and it was nearly half past three when we said goodbye to Clive. He was invited to dinner with us at 7 at the bungalow that evening and a barbecue had been planned.
FInally we reached the bungalow. Palitha who owned the Meena Ella Bungalow was a little concerned whether we were still interested in climbing the Hakgala peak that afternoon. Over a sumptuous lunch Palitha explained that the Hakgala peak had been declared a strict natural reserve – no one was allowed in. The good news, he said, was that he had arranged for us to climb the mountain peak opposite the gardens. An ‘experienced’ tracker was ready.
It was past 4.30 when we gathered in front of the bungalow. Palitha said we should climb at least halfway quickly and come down fast for it was already very late to try the peak. He was sure, he told us later; that we would not climb up the whole way as the group, except Yasangie, was rather ‘elderly’.
Non-stop chatter, jokes and advice made progress slow. We were still taking things easy as the tracker, who was leading us, urged us to get going.
About a hundred metres down the Welimada main road we turned towards the deep valley we had to cross to get to the bottom of the mountain. There were tiny traces of a tarred road that soon gave way to a dirt track, which obviously served as a stream during rainy weather. We reached the bottom amidst the noisy guard of honour provided by the doggies in the small houses that dotted the dangerously sloping path. A small stream with a tiny concrete bridge formed the narrow bottom of the valley.
Siva, our tracker who took us a few hundred metres along the stream towards east smilingly invited us to start the climb. With banter galore, no one checked the time. Shiromi headed the group with the tracker coming behind helping Jayanthi. Ranjith and I followed. Mohan, Yasangie and Bunty made up the rear. The climb was difficult, steep and in places almost vertical. Maana grass was all over and the ground was slippery and spongy. There were few trees but what was right in front of one’s eyes was the almost vertical mountain face. There was lots of creeping, kneeling, sliding and lifting in addition to climbing.
Before we made it a quarter way up, our water was finished and all dead weight was jettisoned. At this point we could notice a tinge of desperation and panic in Shiromi’s voice but Siva was calm and looked absolutely dependable. He urged us to climb on, as the summit was very near.
Someone commented that it was like ‘samsara’, never ending.
As we approached a flat stretch one could hear the sighs of relief followed by curses of disbelief when we saw the summit was still ahead. The main task now was to get to the summit. What was in front of us was the cliff face and we had no time to look back towards the valley or towards the Meena Ella Bungalow. If we had, we would have seen that dusk was falling fast.
What happened from then onwards could only happen only once in someone’s lifetime. The ‘totally’ dependable Siva was frantically trying to spot at least a suggestion of a track or trail. It was obvious that we were lost and there was no way of re-tracing our steps as the track we had climbed loomed sinisterly vertical.
At this point we started moving sideways towards the west amidst shoulder deep Maana. Meanwhile a desperate Palitha had been watching the mountaintop with his binoculars and had spotted us crossing an open patch on the summit. Later he said he made desperate attempts to draw our attention through light signals but failed.
Both Yasangie and Bunty had mobile phones but all calls to Palitha were answered by the familiar engaged tone.
Night was closing in. About a hundred metres in front was thick jungle that seemed to stretch towards the bottom of the valley. The only way home seemed to be through the jungle that loomed totally black and there was no way of clearing the Maana patch, which was almost vertical. Both Mohan and Bunty who spoke fluent Tamil tormented the crestfallen Siva trying to force the admission that we were well and truly lost.
We entered the thick almost black, sinister looking jungle. There was no track or trail and night had already begun, inside the jungle. Siva went in front with Shiromi and Ranjith and the trio was crashing through the jungle, which was sharply sloping down. I could not see Ranjith who was only a foot or two in front of me. Descent was complete with sliding, falling, groans and swearing. Suddenly Yasangie said that her mobile phone had a torch – a powerful yet small stream of light. It was not very helpful all the way as we were really falling and sliding in single file. Still there were no signals and we couldn’t contact anyone.
It was obvious to us at the back of the line, that our spirits were at rock bottom. We decided to stick together even though we hardly could see each other in the dark. I was desperately trying to stay behind Ranjith and follow the sounds he was making while dropping and sliding down the thorny slope. It took only a few seconds to realise that I had missed my footing and was sliding down sideways, knocking against tree trunks, giant roots and tree stumps. It was so quick I did not realise that I had fallen nearly ten metres and was now almost astride a tree trunk. It was nothing but Providence that avoided a major surgical emergency.
A quick clinical examination, unseen by others, in the wet slippery undergrowth showed that there were no broken bones but the pain in my hip was unbearable. Perhaps a hairline fracture of the neck of the femur, I thought. My palms had a few thorns sticking out causing unbearable pain. But there was nothing else to do but proceed. Our minds were busy thinking of possible wild boar and leopard attacks. I was thinking of more sinister and dangerous trap guns.
Suddenly, the tracker said he could hear water. Yasangie’s torch was passed to the front of the line. There, about twenty feet below the almost vertical slope was a canal about two feet wide with cemented banks. With the torch light we saw that the water was muddy and flowing at a terrific speed. Anyone sliding down would surely land in the fast flowing water. Somehow Siva managed to slide down on to the narrow cemented strip visible and called each of us to fall or slide, down the slope and he would catch us one by one. Yasangie almost jumped the whole way and ended up in the arms of the tracker. What happened then was unbelievable. As she landed her glasses flew off into the water a few metres ahead. Desperately she put her hand into the rushing water. It was nothing but a miracle that in that fraction of a second and in total darkness she felt the glasses passing her submerged fingers. A silent prayer was offered as she put her glasses on.
One by one we slid down the muddy track to the aqueduct, which we came to know later, was taking water to Welimada. This was still nearly halfway down the mountain face. We gathered together to take stock of what we should do next. Shiromi thought we should spend the night there. Siva said the temperature might go even below zero towards midnight and there was no way we could stay there. He suggested that he would walk up the aqueduct to see whether there was some opening in the jungle where a trail might be visible. We were a bit uneasy when he asked for Yasangie’s cell phone torch. This man who had been at the receiving end of a barrage of torments and insults might disappear with the phone. We were unanimous in thinking that he would abandon us but there was nothing else to do.
We were now congregated on the concrete bank of the narrow aqueduct. Most of us were sure that the much-harassed Siva would never return and we would be spending the night here in the jungle. Then the second unbelievable episode of this memorable night took place. Yasangie who was close to the edge of the bank suddenly began slipping past me into the dark seemingly bottomless abyss. I heard her shrill ‘thaththee…’ disappearing into the night. I fell on my knees to grab the disappearing child and I felt the top of her head a few feet below. She screamed that she was slipping down but once again tragedy was averted and we managed to pull her up from the chasm below.
At this point a faint flicker of light was seen coming over the knoll and to every one’s relief Siva was back. But he brought bad news. There was no escape route that way. We thought of following the waterway -at least we would end up in Welimada. But Shiromi was in no mood. She had already decided that it was the end. Somehow we decided to crawl down the slope once again. After sliding, crawling and a few somersaults we landed in a narrow clear patch. Far away we could see the lights of houses scattered in the vegetable plots. We decided to shout for help.
All those who had any strength left shouted like a pack of hungry jackals. Then we heard the reply ‘hoos’ of the people around. Soon we saw two spots of light moving towards where we were. About 15 minutes later the voices that accompanied the lights spoke to us from the bottom. They urged us to come down a certain spot. Soon we were at the bottom of the valley, surrounded by people who were actually members of a search party sent by much-worried Palitha.
It was not over. Now we had to climb again to the main Welimada road. As we made our way up the slope to a tumultuous welcome by the village dogs, people came to their doorsteps to say a few kind words.
As we approached the Meena Ella Bungalow it was about quarter to ten in the night. We saw the agitated crowd, Palitha beaming, the drivers, servants and Clive, our guest in a black suit and yellow tie. The heap of wood for the bonfire around which we were to sing and dance was piled on the side lawn.
We came to know that the police had been alerted and so too Colombo and Kandy. There were concerns that the very area had been suspected of harbouring some terrorists who had infiltrated the hill country. Another concern was a villager had been arrested for trapping and killing a full grown leopard only the week before.
After a refreshing hot shower and ridding ourselves of thorns and leeches and emptying tubes of antiseptic cream we gathered round the fireplace to recount the whole saga. Clive stayed for a late dinner that included fried items bought for the barbecue.
Before hitting the bed, I pulled the curtain to look at the place where we had our adventure. The Ahumullekanda Mountain, 1754 metres tall, stood bathed in the moonlight like a colossus, undefeated and untamed.