At night, Yercaud transformed into a dark, silent world, guided only by the sounds and whispers of breeze. Far down in the plains, Salem, a bustling town famous for its steel, looked like a million stars. I saw this from Lady’s Seat, high up in Yercaud at 1500 mts, with the cold breeze, chattering crickets and the smell of citrus and coffee blooms for company. Then just as suddenly, thick swirls of mist rose up and enveloped the little town in its embrace. Salem was lost to sight….
I had been warned against visiting Yercaud in the month of April, because, Salem in Tamil Nadu, India, the last town before the climb to Yercaud, was always hot. As warnings go, it went unheeded.
But as the old transport bus wound its way uphill through 36 hairpin bends, I did regret my decision. It was only after we had climbed more than 800 mts when first signs of life appeared, that I actually relaxed. There was a remarkable drop in mercury too. The temperature sometimes falls as low as 13 degree centigrade.
The rest of the way was spent admiring the neatly kept coffee plantation and hundreds of women picking coffee. It was quite a surprise to see Yercaud as a bustling little town on the Shevaroy hills. Little wonder it was called the ‘Poor Man’s Ooty’. Yercaud held promises. There was not much time to lose.
All tourists, I noticed, headed for the lake first. So did I. After paddling about for an hour, failing miserably to make a garland out of lotus stems, I headed for the food carts for some ‘bhajji’, actually potatoes and chillies dipped in batter and deep-fried. It was fun just to sit on the garden walls and add on calories and watch the kids on the lake.
This followed a walk though the Anna Park, a surprisingly well-maintained garden full of beautiful flowers. A short walk down the road from the Lake, I found “Bhavani Singh’s perfumery!! The smells of nature were all captured in bottles for the weary city-dweller to rejuvenate himself. Bhavani Singh must have been a man worth his salt to have thought of it. I dutifully bought “White Panther Oil” after first establishing that no such animal had been shot for the purpose.
Towards evening, all roads led to the Lady’s Seat at the end of the town past the century-old Montfort School. English-style bungalows lined both sides of the road. There were also the Gents’ Seat and the Children’s Seat, the mention of which invited sniggers from the locals. Here clearly the ‘Lady’ ruled. Lady’s Seat has its own charm. From there one can get the best views of the plains and on a clear day, the distant Metur dam can also be seen.
My second day was spent in visiting the old Shevaroyan Temple built by the tribals high in the forested area. It stands at 5500 ft and is the highest point in Yercaud. There are but a few places that can match the magnificence of this old temple.
It was time for a change of view. I opted for the more adventurous roads: which meant simply walking down each road radiating from the main junction or branching off into narrow arteries. One such led to the Pagoda Point. It was a plateau of sorts with several empty little houses perched on it. Past these houses a road led to a small temple on the cliff. The view was breathtaking although it was a misty day and the sun only winked at the world grudgingly. I had heard it was the best place to be. It overlooked an expanse of green, a colour I believe nature created as a comfort for sore eyes. No soul has come away from Pagoda Point without having restored his faith in nature-cure. It’s a long walk from Pagoda Point to the heart of the little town; in fact most tourists prefer to hire a vehicle. Backpacking is about economy, so I walked. It was wonderful to wave to the hundreds of people hurrying past in their cars and jeep anxious for a moment of solace at Pagoda Point. Yercaud is culturally and religiously very tolerant. For a place that has about 343 sq kms area, with more than half of that full of teak, sandalwood and silver oak trees, there are numerous churches, temples and mosques.
Yercaud is not exactly a “happening place” in terms of the night life. The boating closes by 6 pm and the park by 5 pm!!
But what reminds me of the place till date is the fluffy white idli (made of rice and lentil soaked overnight) that I had the fortune of savouring at the Hotel Venkateshwara. Shankar, the proprietor even packed ten of them for my onward journey!! Hospitality was a way of life here.
Despite the advancements in technology, Yercaud still retains its old world charm; it has one internet café and hundreds of telephone booths which remained blissfully non-functional in the best of times. No one is in any hurry to reach anywhere. Everyone has only one thing to say – “All roads lead to Lady’s Seat and the other to Salem”.
Yercaud is certainly very mysterious.