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trekking Agasthyamalai’s sacred slopesText and photographs by Ian Lockwood

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The man next to me, a young pilgrimwith a fragile frame, mutters a prayer, barelydiscernible over the thunder and rain.A ferocious wind blowing in from thenortheast threatens to sweep us off theprecipitous summit on which we arebivouacked. Flashes of lightning illuminategnarled trees and the profiles of mycompanions huddled under a tarp. It leakslike a sieve, but we’re holding on to it with allhands, lest the wind blows away our onlysense of security. Surely, the young pilgrim’sprayers are going out to Agasthya, the greatsage on whose mountain we are camped. The1,866 m.-high Agasthyamalai is the highestpoint in the southernmost tip of India and isone of the richest biodiversity zones in theWestern Ghats. To the west, the mountaindrops a perilous 700 m. into the tropicalforests of Kerala. The drop on the other threesides is no less severe, and the thought of asudden evacuation is disconcerting. Visitorsdon’t normally stay overnight on thismagnificent peak and, if the weather isanything to go by, the gods aren’t pleasedwith our choice of a camping spot either!

Beginnings I first observed Agasthyamalai’s distinctive

profile in the mid-1990s when I was exploringthe Kalakad-Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve(KMTR). The peak had mesmerised me butpermission formalities, logistical hassles andlack of time had postponed a summit bid.Last summer, while taking a year off from myteaching job, I initiated the paperwork forthe expedition. I visited the Chief WildlifeWardens of Tamil Nadu and Kerala andobtained the consent of the Ministry ofEnvironment and Forests, New Delhi.My goal was to document the WesternGhats landscapes to aid the conservationof this fragile biodiversity hotspot(Sanctuary Vol. XXI, No.2, April 2002).By spring, I was ready for the trek.

Along with five friends from theDhonavur fellowship – a community withstrong conservation ties in these hills – andKani tribal guides, we set out across theKaraiyar reservoir to the starting point of ourfour-day expedition to Agasthyamalai. Builtin the 1960s as part of a massive hydroelectricscheme, the reservoir is surrounded by steephills carpeted by dense evergreen forest.Protruding from these hills is a jagged graniteridge, which includes the Agasthyamalai peak.Jerry Rajamanain, the leader, has a special

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interest in Pothigai (as the peak is locallycalled) and was instrumental in organisingthe expedition.

Our boat approaches the sandy shorelittered with leaf debris and blackened treestumps. A waterfall cascades over house-sizedboulders before emptying into the dark watersof the reservoir. This is the sacredTambraparani river, whose watershedcomprises the forested slopes ofAgasthyamalai. We clamber up ancient rock-cut steps on the side of the falls. It is slipperyand steep enough to dissuade casualexplorations beyond the falls. Soon we havethe river to ourselves. Two Fairy Bluebirdsand a group of Ruby-throated Black-crestedBulbuls flitter in a low tree by the stream. Wecan just discern the awesome Agasthyamalaipeak over the tree canopy.

Manikandi, the most knowledgeable ofour Kani guides, leads us along the river andthen cuts into the forest on a small path. Fromthe scorching heat of the open, we enter thecool rainforest filled with the cicadas’deafening calls, where gigantic canes andtowering lianas crowd between largebuttressed trees. Our destination is the Kanisettlement of Injukuli. Kanis, indigenousforest-dwellers of the Agasthyamalai hills,once practiced shifting cultivation, but manyhave been relocated out of the interiors ofKMTR. In the 1990s, much attention wasfocussed on the Kanis in Kerala when theystruck up an innovative deal with apharmaceutical company to share theproceeds of developing the wild arogyapacha(Trichopus zeylanicus) plant, believed to haveinvigorating properties. However, whatpromised to be a landmark deal to benefitindigenous forest-dwellers floundered ingovernment red tape.

Injukuli consists of a dozen scatteredthatched huts and cleared fields under theimposing Agasthyamalai. Three Kani childrenlead us down to the Tambraparani and showus the best spots for an afternoon swim. Weturn in early, knowing that tomorrow will bea difficult day of trekking.

The sun rises early over Injukuli and twogroups of pilgrims who also spent the nighthere are making their way to the summit. Theirpresence surprises me, since permissions tovisit Agasthyamalai were difficult to come by.None of us had expected that our groupwould have company. Most pilgrims climbAgasthyamalai using the well-worn paththrough Peppara Wildlife Sanctuary on the

The slopes of Agasthyamalai are covered with a variety of vegetation, ranging from Bentinckia palms (facingpage) to tree ferns (above), which shelter a variety of life-forms, including tiger, leopard and jungle cat.

No ordinary mountain

Though dwarfed by other Western Ghats’ peaks such as Dodabetta in the Nilgiris andAnaimudi, there is an unmistakable spiritual quality to Agasthyamalai. Its conical profile isnearly identical from the eastern and western sides and it supports rich biodiversity. Straddlingthe Tamil Nadu-Kerala border, south of the Shencottah gap, it includes thorn forest, moistdeciduous forest, tropical wet evergreen rainforest and high-altitude grasslands. The TamilNadu side is composed of the 900 sq. km. Kalakad-Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve (KMTR),while the adjoining Kerala side hosts the Neyyar and Peppara wildlife sanctuaries. Theseexcellent habitats have been disturbed by plantations and hydroelectric projects. Nearby arethe reserved forests of Courtallam, Tamil Nadu and Kerala’s Shenduruny Sanctuary.Agasthyamalai boasts of 150 plant endemics, including wild relatives of jackfruit, mango,cardamom, turmeric and banana. The area is India’s southernmost tiger habitat and hostssignificant populations of elephant, tahr, lion-tailed macaques, Nilgiri martens, king cobras andGreat Pied Hornbills. KMTR is also famous for its reptiles and amphibians.

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Kerala side. During a two-month season,50 pilgrims per day are allowed on this route.It is an arduous trek but one that offers thechance to conduct a puja at the small Agasthyashrine at the summit. However, the impact ofeven such modest numbers is telling. On anearlier trip, we had walked out via Pepparaand had observed signs of garbage, fire anddegraded forest. This on the slopes of amountain known for its sensitive plant diversityand endemism! In discussions with friends inthe Kerala Forest Department, it was clear thatsuch impacts remain a concern, but one that istempered by the fact that a religious pilgrimageis nearly impossible to control.

By 7.30 a.m., we start out on a disused paththat winds its way from Injukuli up theTambraparani and over several valleys to thebase of the massive Agasthyamalai. The first bitof the trail takes us through dense evergreenforest with towering trees and an exquisiteunderstorey. The Cullenia excelsa tree, favouredby lion-tailed macaques, is abundant. Mostpleasing to me are the dry conditions and dearthof leaches! A White-bellied Treepie is callingnoisily in the canopy just above us. Several hourslater, we reach Pongalam, a stream-fed pool that

Pilgrims make the long trek up the mountain to worship at the shrine erected in memory of the great sage Agasthya, after whom the mountain is named. Unfortunately, thelarge volume of pilgrim traffic also disturbs and pollutes the mountain, especially on the Kerala side.

The Legend of Sage AgasthyaSeveral interesting myths are associatedwith Agasthyamalai, named after the sageAgasthya to whom the Dravidian peopleowe the Tamil language. He is associatedwith herbal remedies and is often depictedholding a stone crusher and a vessel. Thehills where he meditated are rich inmedicinal plants. According to legend,when the wedding of Lord Shiva andParvati was announced at Mt. Kailash (thesacred peak in Tibet), all the gods andsages migrated to the venue. The earthwent dangerously off-balance and Shivaasked Agasthya to go south tocounterbalance it. Agasthya wasdisappointed about missing the greatceremony but with his powerful meditation,the world’s balance was restored. Thestriking similarity between the profiles ofMt. Kailash and Agasthyamalai strengthenthe mythological connections of thesesacred peaks.

offers the last source of water on the way up tothe summit. It is surrounded by dense Ochlandrareed brakes that are a favourite of elephants. Wedrink homemade oral rehydration solution, feaston tamarind rice and rest before starting up theside of Agasthyamalai.

After Pongalam, the path ascends at adizzying angle up the exposed sheet rock thatforms the near vertical eastern ramparts ofAgasthyamalai. At times, our path ascends atgradients that force us to scramble on all fours.Clearly, this would be impossible during therainy season. We pass through clumps ofstunted tropical evergreen forest, distinctiveto Agasthyamalai and its neighbouringpeaks. Severe wind keeps the canopy low andancient trees are deceptively stunted.Although it looks and feels like shola forest, it istechnically not, since this is below 1,900 m.(the lower limit of shola forests). We see theendemic Bentinckia condapanna palm treesclinging to precarious slopes. They appearstrangely out of place here, as if Dr. Seuse hadpainted them on to the mountainside.A group of Brown-backed Needletails andother lesser swifts are circling overhead. I lookin vain in the grassy clumps for the enigmaticPaphiopedilum drury, the ladyslipper orchidendemic to Agasthyamalai and perhaps therarest epiphyte in the Western Ghats.Just as I’m dreaming about stumbling on apaph, I spot several large clumps of brightpink Aerides ringens.

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After walking under an enormous wall ofcharcoal-black sheet rock, we find ourselvesapproaching the main north-south ridgeof the mountain. Now in thick forest, wejoin the more worn trail from Peppara. It islate afternoon and I am perspiring heavily.I get ahead of the group and emerge onthe exposed shoulder of Agasthyamalai.The view is spectacular. I can see from theMundanthurai valley clear around themountain to the western side. To the south,the lesser peaks protrude from the forest in adazzling array of weathered granite andwindswept vegetation. Surprisingly, there ispractically no wind. In the distance, there arethunderstorms but the peak is enjoying arare calm.

The final approach to the summit isstraightforward, although there are a fewunnerving rock faces to negotiate. A few steepstretches and then a final patch of forest.Finally, I am there, standing on top ofAgasthyamalai, breathing fast and elated bythe panorama spread before me. The summitis dome-shaped with a pile of rocks at thehigh point. Visitors have vandalised it bypainting their names on the rock in an uglyyellow. On the southern side, a small crownof forest protects the Agasthya shrine.

By the time we set up camp, it is twilightand the best spot, protected by a ring of trees,has been taken. We find a grassy slope nearbyand are able to tie up our large tarp.Meanwhile, two or three differentthunderstorms are lashing the eastern plainsand the ranges south of Agasthyamalai. Itseems obvious that we are going to haveprecipitation sometime soon. Knowing thatwe are on the highest peak in the area, I can’thelp being slightly nervous about what’s instore for us.

We enjoy a subdued sunset and a murkymoonrise behind thick clouds. When itemerges later, the moon casts an ethereal glowover the hills and the approachingthunderheads. The storm moves closer andwe take refuge under the tarp, eat a dinner ofbiscuits and prepare for the inevitable. It hitsaround 8.30 p.m., starting with ferociouswinds that threaten to blow our tarp off themountain. At the first gust, the ten of usunder the tarp grab on to corners and folds.For two hours, we continue to cling to ourscanty cover. Lightning bolts strike all aroundus and light up silhouettes of the wind-blowntrees. Thunder rolls through the valleys.Things are more or less fine, except for the

An evergreen tree stretches its limbs up to the sky from the slopes of Agasthyamalai. The mountain heights offertrekkers an unparalleled view of these Western Ghats ranges.

fact that the tarp leaks horribly! Sitting up inmy sleeping bag, I put on my rain jacket andcontemplate taking out my umbrella.However, there is no room for this luxuryand I’m soon drenched. A group of six pilgrimstakes cover with us and it is a cozy gathering,to say the least! They seem a little surprisedby nature’s fury and suggest that Agasthya isupset about us sleeping on the summit.

The storm does eventually clear and bymidnight, we are left with the sounds of waterdripping through the tarp and frogs croakingin the grass. My sleep is erratic at best. I wake

every hour or so, excited by the prospect ofdawn. I know that the rain should wash theplains and mountains clear and I am eager tosee and photograph it all!

I get up and out of my slushy sleepingbag at 4.30 a.m. A waterproof poncho hasprotected my cameras. A light breeze isblowing and there is still a magicalotherworldly glow from the setting moon.The lights from towns on the eastern plainstwinkle brilliantly and the brighterconstellations are visible. I want to seethe view in the complete darkness and

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The pilgrims head down almostimmediately, while we linger to dry thingsout and enjoy the view. Jerry and I work onidentifying the local peaks. As the sun riseshigher, we are thrilled to spot bothcoastlines! They are not as clear as I hadimagined, but the dark blues of the seas aredistinctly visible.

By mid-morning, wispy mist isgathering at Agasthyamalai’s summit andwe move down the mountainside. The

night’s rain has made the rock faces slipperyand we proceed with great caution. I flusha Peregrine Falcon from a patch of grass andit flies out over the edge, giving out itsmournful alarm call. Although our kneesstart to feel like jelly, the descent takes muchless effort than yesterday’s climb.At Pongalam, I bathe in the pool andam soon convinced about the divineproperties of the ritual. The hike back toInjukuli is long, but less tiring and we areback by late afternoon.

Our final day in the shadow ofAgasthyamalai goes smoothly. We pack upand thank the Kanis. It is a gentle path backto Banerthetum and I walk most of it alone. Iam able to spot a troop of Nilgiri langurs andtwo Malabar giant squirrels, but amdisappointed at not seeing any lion-tailedmacaques. We’ve seen plenty of mammalevidence on the path – sloth bear, civets,jungle cats and the occasional leopard, but Iam surprised by the few sightings of animalsand birds. On past trips to KMTR, I havehad excellent sightings of Great PiedHornbills and Malabar Trogons, but thistime the bird sightings have been modest.Just before descending to the falls andcatching the boat out, we take a refreshingbath in the Tambraparani. It is Sundayand the falls are packed with local touristsbathing and picnicking. We must look alittle strange, emerging from the side ofthe waterfalls, unshaven and thinner, butelated after an unforgettable pilgrimage toAgasthyamalai’s summit.

witness dawn from the very first light. Jerry,the only other team member interestedin giving up sleep for the first view, joinsme. We locate Tirunelveli in the east andThiruvananthapuram in the west, identifiedby their large clusters of twinkling lights. Fourdifferent lighthouses are visible, demarcatingthe Arabian Sea in the west and the Gulf ofMannar in the east.

Dawn is a magnificent affair and makesthe stormy night worth all its fear anddiscomfort. As the rays of the new day beginto fill the sky, they paint the cirrus clouds infantastic hues of gold and scarlet. A kestrel ishovering over the precipice near the summitand Grey-breasted Laughing Thrushes arechattering in the trees by the Agasthya shrine.Looking north, we are blessed with a viewof the dark evergreen tiger forests ofthe Mundanthurai range. The azuremountains stretching beyond the Shencottahgap and up towards the Periyar Tiger Reserveare imposing.

Then something incredible happens. Thesun, just a hair above the horizon, projectsthe conical shadow of Agasthyamalai into thelight haze of the west, creating a surrealpyramid-shaped shadow that shifts as I walkalong the summit. This is a phenomena oftenobserved by mountaineers on high peaks atsunrise. It is well recorded on Sri Lanka’sAdam’s peak, but this is the first time I’ve seenit happening in the Western Ghats. Themagical shadow doesn’t last longer than tenminutes and disappears when the sun slipsbehind a low cloud.

The forests that clothe Agasthyamalai harbour a diversity of life-forms, including reptiles such as this green vine snake and the giant wood spider (below).

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