Ahh Muunar...

Today is the day we discover that the Muunar trek is hiding something a little more sinister than a weekend of rain... Naturally, being monsoon season, the rain is accepted, anticipated and prepared for. However, lurching by our feet is what my fellow hikers and I will remember Muunar for... It was an experience.

30 minutes into the lengthy drive to Muunar, the diver pulled over and said incredulously: "have you got your passport's?" He must have known we didn't, in fact, he had already rerouted back to Thoppumpady before we answered. Upon mild reminiscence, this was an accurate sign of things to come...

I think to summarise this trip would discourage others from going, it is only fair to advertise it. Which in itself is not a great advertisement, though i think it is fair.

MUUNAR IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART! If i was asked how faint of heart was before the Muunar trek, i would have surely answered heartily: Opaque, in a cool shade of brave orange. The ongoing pattern of this trip is apparently to reminisce and spot obvious short comings... My heart is no longer that cool shade of brave orange, it is in fact now a crumbily weathered pale, mediocre standard of brave orange; laughable by an marathon runner or hiking regular.

Day one of Muunar consisted of a seemingly endless serenade of my mothers music . Sickeningly, I knew and secretly enjoyed the flavour of home that was Abba and Celine Dion. We all accepted the drivers diverse choice in music... and sung along in high spirits all the same.

The Road to Muunar is a dangerous serpent coiling its way through the endless misty yet marvellous mountain peaks. This is where the first warning must be issued. As spectacular as the road to Muunar is, its switch back roads are something else. Even those of the strongest heart will fall down here if they have a weak stomach. The sharp corners and bumpy roads churn the stomach and nausea quickly overrides the body. The only cure was laughter. I'm not sure what it was about the mountain air, but in the mountains, everything we said was hilarious. Hypoxic laughter, a miracle cure for motion sickness.

Muunar town was unexpected by everyone. Not in that the roads appeared endless. It was that for the past 20Km, we had only seen maybe 20 houses! Muunar exploded onto the scene and the car was enveloped by awe. A town full of buildings of all colours, shapes and sizes rolled past the windows and our eyes. It was not dissimilar to the town of Kochi we just left, only the surrounding scenery was beautiful. It is still surreal to me that a town so vast can hide so quaintly on the mountain side.

The newly appointed: Fantastic five, took a steady lunch. I was taken by hunger and wanted to order the entire menu, particularly the Sezhuvan beef (szechuan). The spelling mistakes on the menu tickled the ribs of the Fantastic five. I couldn't help think that after all this fine Indian cuisine, day in and day out, that i must be turning into an absolute chunker. Worth it. The food is indescribable.

Shortly after the food we started our ascent to base camp Meesapulimala (or more amusingly, Tigers Mustache). It only took 20 minutes... longer was spent applying copious/optimistic amounts of suncream, and making the bag lighter by removing seemingly pointless items from it, they were in fact quite the opposite. Beeved mate, beeved.

We arrived at base camp Tigers Mustache with an hour or so of sun remaining. The sunlight was not wasted and was quickly put to good use by creating some pretty special cheesy timer photos. The night was filled with food and laughter around a roaring fire. We were all slowly smoked out and gifted the cursed black lung by the persistent and highly inconsiderate bonfire smoke. The smoke however, provided a more theatrical setting to the amateur hour evening of charades. We kept it entirely film based to give our Indian tour guides Francis and Gerry a chance of guessing. There was countless moments of painful hesitation, and following that, unfortunate overlooking of the easiest of clues. Comedy prevailed and soon we retired for an optimistic rest before the big hike tomorrow.

Intermittent sleep brought on by the claustrophobic feel on the legs and the forever changing tent temperature. all this combined with the precarious, though apparently accidental straddling from than man that is Fergberg.

The hike started out great. Up through wondrous tea plantations that scattered the mountain side. They resembled a vast green brain that hugged the ground beneath them. Gentle uphill saunters slowly became steep vertical struggles. The higher we walked, the colder and wetter it became; the misty mountains are not just a clever name! The air also became thinner, though i'm sceptical how much that would affect my breathing, a much more likely conclusion is my astounding stamina and unreal fitness...

The ascent was tiresome, and as the rain soaked the clothes, the colder and harder it was to walk. Morals were maintained by the spontaneous Munch breaks. Aside from that, the only thing that kept us going was the thought of the view from the top.

The sensation of standing on the top of a mountain, or so we were told, and only be able to see 15m due to the mist is strange and rather anticlimactic. We had hiked up dauntingly steep inclines and experienced some serious exhaustion for something that epitomised my experience of Wales. If only we could have seen the view... we have heard from captain BS herself that the view is breathtaking... oh well, might as well go home.

The descent was horrific... the break on top wasn't nearly sufficient enough to recuperate from getting there. The first stage was murder on the legs... cramp followed by slipping followed by mud and the wet floor, though it was impossible to become anymore wet. Just writing about it depresses me. The shear volume of leeches sickened me, I was vary anal in removing them from my legs, the others not so much. I sustained only minimal bites but was still sufficiently stained in blood. The other more reckless, dangerous and ultimately more mutilated, left the disgraceful creatures on a little too long and received bites in some rather interesting places...

I did enjoy Muunar to an extent. I get the feeling that if the hike was spread out better over the two days, and if the weather held out so the view form the top would be as wonderful as described, then the Sunday would have been as great as the Saturday.

And so returning home with fatigue, and aching from muscles from muscles i didn't know i had; Fergus turned in the car with an awkward expression, *whisper* "Guys, there's a leech on my back..."

Another nugget of inspiration from Jamie.

Ahh Muunar...