As you go East out of Mumbai, the land rises up into some truly lovely and majestic hills. The buildings thin out rapidly, the traffic tapers down to sane levels, and vibrant greenery replaces the concrete jungle. Most roads are toll roads around here, so it costs you a little change to get away, but it is certainly worth it.
The hills climb and climb. We were travelling in early July, as the monsoon was really gathering steam. This meant that the multitudinous verdant buttes each cast sparkling waterfalls down into the densely forested valleys. Absolutely gorgeous, and a breath of literal fresh air.
The highway traffic going East in Maharastra is still full of Indianisms, but slowly people begin to do unusual things like drive in a defined lane for an extended length of time. This is a breath of fresh air of an entirely different species, but no less refreshing.
Along the roads are rice paddies and various small crops. People work placidly but diligently in the wet earth and do their part to feed the gigantic Indian population. Also alongside the road are a handful of large resort-type properties. More prevalent than these, however, is the inordinate number of what looks like empty foundations. Our driver didn't know anything about these, and therefore I don't know anything about these. They lend the landscape what almost amounts to the feel of a successful post-apocalypse in places. Many of these empty foundations contain diverse produce gardens.
The climbing highway carried us higher until the hills became ghats, and thence among the hill stations. There were also a couple of Indian-style truck stops. I call them that as a catch all for a spot along the highway with stores and restaurants that are there strictly to serve the travelling populace. They have all the charm that the term "truck stop" implies.
About two and a half hours after pulling off the curb at home we entered the proximity of Lonavala. This place has become a well-known get away for the upper-middle class of Mumbai and the surrounding areas. It is a pretty busy place during the rainy season. We had decided to hit the spots we were interested in on the outskirts and then work our way to the hotel. So stop number one was
To be the iconic Kune Falls. Here I should note that we did not have our usual driver.. Instead we had a fellow organized for us by our usual driver. Unfortunately, this otherwise delightful fellow spoke almost zero English. My Hindi was (is) still very lame, but I thought I was at least comprehending what he was telling me.
As we sped past the exit to the waterfall, I came to understand that this was not the case.
Anyway, the design of the expressway made it difficult to just loop back around to go to the falls, so we just moved on the number two in the itinerary with plans to shuffle Kune Falls back in later. This took us down the winding road to Lohagad Fort. This place is awesome.
As is our tactic we arrived pretty early by the local standards. At 10:30ish AM, we stepped out of the van and into the cool mist of the Western Ghats. And we began the climb. This climb is not insignificant. The ancient stone steps are tall and wide, and in the rainy season they are just a tad slippery. Over the course of a dozen switchbacks one is elevated a couple hundred meters and begins to enter the fort proper. This early in the day there were mostly young and adventurous people to share the mountain-fortress with. We even saw some Swiss (I think) people.
The fort crouches on top of a bedrock finger that juts out and points accusingly at the lush valley below. To get to the actual fort one first traverses a highly defensible path the winds its way up to the walls. To enter said walls, we walked through an imposing gate that looked like something from a Tolkien novel. The framework over the gates was imposing enough, but the 5" spikes coming out of the faces of the open gates really fixed a menacing impression. We turned a corner through the gate into a low keep that contained some rusty old cannons, no longer on their carriages anymore. They just kind of lay on a stone benchwork looking old and angry. In the courtyard we saw the first of the ever-present Tourist Macaques. These are the obnoxious little bastard-monkeys that inhabit most any aged place that tourists might like to visit. They stare and groom each other and wait impatiently to spot someone eating something so that they can accost them and steal the item they are eating. They are such a delight.
I digress. This fortress is incredibly well-preserved with access to almost all the stairways and from them to the defense ramparts and battlements. These structures contain arrow slots at regular intervals, and cannonade windows at less regular intervals. There are also the occasional opening that I imagine were for doing more exotic things like dumping hot oil or throwing stones. When we looked down through these hateful windows, it became disturbingly clear that coming up the winding stair to assault the front gates would have been a horrifying experience.
We climbed up through two more similar structures, all held closely to the ribs of the soaring cliffs. One of the broad and winding stairways that connect the structures happened to double as a kind of lazy waterfall, cascading down worn steps. We passed through two more gates, each a little less threatening than the last. At last we crested out into an open air at the very top of the ghat. The views by this point had emerged from being merely stunning into being transcendent. Even with the low ceiling of the monsoon season we could see for 20 miles in any direction.
We lazily wandered around the open mountaintop, watching clouds gently crash into neighboring mountaintops, elegantly slide over and around them, and go on about their way. Occasionally a cloud would engage this dance with our own mountaintop, swaddling it in a cool mist that dropped visibility to a few dozen meters.
As we walked along the crest of the ghat we came to a low pass where the wind was intense. We soon noticed the odd sensation of being rained on from below. We had come to the famous reverse waterfall of Lohagad Fort. A small stream spilled over the edge only to be grabbed by the pounding gale and hurled back up to where it had come from. There were a number of people along the cliff edge taking a sort of shower in the inverted waterfall. Very cool.
From the top of the fort we headed out to the most dramatic vantage point, the tip of the long, pointing finger I mentioned earlier. The traverse to the point was trickier than anticipated. Time had robbed the stonework of things like functional steps in many places. At one point there was a single file line that formed to allow for some light-duty mountaineering that was required to climb down the broken boulders. Perhaps that was the reason for the old sign that said no to go out there...
A few hundred meters stroll and there we were, the furthest-flung outpost of Lohagad Fort. A stained glass pane of paddies and fields spread below us, way down there on the valley floor. They were hemmed in by the snarls of temperate jungle that guarded the flanks of the ghats. After we had done our best to exhaust the exhilaration of grandeur, we turned for the trek back.
Next on the agenda was to begin our exploration of the Buddhist caves of Lonavala. But first we'd have to find our driver.
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