Run Out of Steam

The clouds have encompassed the whole town as I head my way down to the delightful railway station. It is not looking good for photography.

It transpires that the train I am to take has a steam rather diesel engine after all. I enter the 1st class coach which consists of ten rather orange and exceedingly comfy armchairs. There is already an Indian tourist family of four and an older Australian in the carriage with two “customer service” guys. With plenty of steam belching from the funnel and over-zealous whistle blows, the train departs exactly at 10.30am.

The train shunts along at the speed of my fast walking pace for 800 metres and then stops abruptly as the three engine bods scurry off with some urgency. Fortunately, it is just a water-fill up from a parked tanker. One of the stooges comes over, apologises, and explains that there is a water shortage here at the moment. Suffering from one in Dharamsala, I ask him for how long has there been a shortage.
“Oh, about 20 years”.
The reservoir hasn´t been altered since the British left, and the population has increased more than tenfold since then.

After fifteen minutes the train moves off again towards Ghum. The tirade of whistle blows continues as it skirts between curb and shops and market stalls just inches away. Pedestrians block their ears – there are at least six different trains each day to my knowledge; shopkeepers and market stall holders must be going deaf and/or nuts! Despite the noise there are lots of waving toddlers, school children, and babes in arms of a sibling, parent or grandparent.

After travelling a smooth and comfy hour, we finally arrive at Ghum covering a grand distance of 9kms via the attractive war memorial and park. The enshrouding cloud has turned from white/grey to grey/black and visibility is minimal.

Strangely, all the other passengers in the executive lounge leave the carriage. The “steward” comes over with some green tea and a china plate whilst the “guide” Khunhinda brings over some tasty cakes and pastries in a box. After a short ten minute stop, we chug off again. The steward lights up a cig so I follow suit and we´re all having a bit of a naughty school-boy smirk. Now this is starting to look like good value for money.

As the train descends, so drizzling begins. I can hardly see the shrubbery at the roadside, let alone the beautiful snowy peaks behind it all. The train continues on past Sonada, where there might possibly be a colourful roadside vegetable market and the pretty village of Tung. More green tea and cigarettes ensue.

We pull into our final destination, Kurseong, just before 2pm. At 4864ft, considerably warmer than Darjeeling, and although the cloud hasn´t left, it is whiter and there are a few glimpses of rays trying to break through.

Khunhinda escorts me to a waiting van and we drive across to the Makaibari tea plantation. He tells me this is the most famous tea plantation for selling the most expensive tea in the World. They might not be the organic suppliers to Harrods, but their top quality silver buds will set you back a cool US$20 for 50g – about 2 cups worth.

I whizz through this “factory” at an even faster pace than my trip to the Happy Valley plantation – I am a real tea expert now. I am disappointed that they don´t provide free samples. Khunhinda wisely arranges to meet me back at the station while driver is instructed to take me to the “Look Out” point. We pointlessly drive up into the clouds. The road is blocked so I even more pointlessly walked the remaining 800 metres. The view is very white cloud-like.

It´s time to head back onto the train to return. A very decent cheese curry, veg rice, french fries and ball-puff dessert is already waiting for me. I polish it off quickly and I am immediately brought a jam sandwich It´s raining again, and it continues all the way back to Darjeeling at 6.40pm where lightening awaits.

I pick up a newspaper at the station. The Telegraph informs it´s readers that there were three new snow leopard cubs born yesterday at the local zoo. Quality work.

Having spent the day on a train I am now going to have to spend 38 hours on one between New Jalpaiguri and Delhi. And I won´t have my own armchair!

It´s a 5am start tomorrow. Ouch! It´s not all fun and games on the road.