22nd February - Climb Every Mountain

The Hotel Valiant's full list of shortcomings is too lengthy to post here but todaythey dropped themselves in it big time. Breakfast is only available as room service here, one of those strange Indian things that we have come across once or twice before. This morning we ordered as usual and got tea, toast and D's omlet. "Boiled eggs twenty minutes".  R is highly unamused and swears vengeance.  We try not to be fussy customers but we won't be going back.

We have booked a taxi to take us out to Champaner and Pavagadh, about an hour's drive north east of Baroda. He is due at 10.30 so we head down to reception a few minutes earlier. There is a lively discussion going on between the guy behind the desk and an old boy with white hair and a mini pigtail. Eventually we are asked if we have ordered a taxi. Turns out the old boy is our taxi driver for the day. We never do find out his name. Neither he nor the reception chap seem to have any English and translation is provided by one of the room boys. The Valiant has one final sting in the tail. No cards, cash only. Wait till they see their review on Booking.com. Our luggage and the taxi driver fill the lift and we have to wait for the next trip. When we get downstairs we give the tip to the front door security guard, who has been the most helpful person we have dealt with in our three days.

Once we clear the immediate area of the station the road out of the city is a decent dual carriageway. Our driver is steady and quite considerate of other drivers.  Beyond the city's airport we join a toll road but cars pass through free of charge. It is a sunny morning and the a/c keeps the temperature comfortable in the car. We pass the time failing to identify most of the birds perched on roadside telegraph wires. Almost on the hour we turn off onto a minor road and a few minutes later we pass through a stone archway over the road. We take a turn onto a narrow road between high stone walls and we are at the ticket office.

Our Lonely Planet is getting out of date, as the price for foreigners has doubled to Rs 500 each. For this we get a very basic paper ticket and nothing else. There are no guides touting for business and no guide books on sale. All we know is that there are the remains of a regional capital city, built around 1500, in the area where we are now and that there is a very famous temple on top of a 762 metre high mountain that rises in isolation out of the plains of Gujarat.

We look around the first site which is an interesting but quite small former mosque. Our driver has parked the car in the shade and starts up when he sees us. A short ride takes us to another site called the Jami Masjid which is a much larger mosque with gardens and a step well behind. Some of the carvings are really detailed and some of the ornate plasterwork on the ceilings is intact. Four men approach us and want photos with us, not an unusual request even though we find it both inexplicable and hilarious. These guys mess around taking several pictures of us and then one of them starts hassling us quite hard for money. 

We wave them away and spot our driver, who has come in to look at the mosque. We walk over to where he is and the hustlers follow and start to talk to him but we have no idea what about. We have seen what we want to see here and set off back to the car, followed by the driver. When we are back in the car he says "Baroda Railway Station?" which rather surprised us as we expected to get a bit more for our Rs 500. This is the first time in our seven trips that we seem to have reached a total linguistic impasse. Eventually we manage to get somewhere by pointing at the mountain and saying Up!Up! 

The road up Pavagadh mountain is steep and twisting but well maintained. He motions to us to open the windows as he needs to turn off the a/c as he needs full power to get us up. The road ends at a car park about two thirds of the way up the mountain. We say that we will take the cable car that runs up the mountain from here. He indicates that he will come with us. To our relief the cable car looks well maintained and seems to be run efficiently. We buy our man a ticket and find that there is no queue for the  cabins.

At the top we find ourselves in a sort of stepped shopping arcade which takes us up to a small lake. The shops include places selling Hindu devotional items, toys, and DVDs. Strangest of all we see that every sweet stall sells Orange Bites, which we haven't seen since Gujarat. There is a lot of paving in progress around the lake. Perhaps this what the RS 500 is for. From the lake two sets of stairs lead up to the temple. One of them is covered, giving shade from the sun and we opt for this one. It is much cooler at this altitude but a couple of hundred feet of brisk climbing will sort that.

The stairs go up very steeply in a straight line and there are people behind so slacking is not an option. Near the top D pauses and turns back to snap the view. "No photos!" shouts a policeman. As taking pictures was the main motivation for making the ascent this is a bit of a downer. After one more flight of stairs it is shoes off time before we join the queue between two sets of railings. This temple is devoted to Kali and seems very popular, including with our driver who waits to be blessed. As church dodgers we leave the devout to it and slip out of a side exit, before reclaiming our shoes and descending by the winding sunny stairs.

We spend a bit of time watching a large raptor soaring until we see our driver coming down the stairs. After a quick cup of tea we join the queue for descending cable cars and share the ride down with a couple and their young daughter. Our driver leads us back to the car and asks "Baroda Railway Station?" Apparently we have done Champaner and Pavagadh. It won't get a smiley face for value for money from us.

The trip back is straightforward and we soon have our bags lodged in the cloakroom. We have about six hours to kill before our train and decide to go back to the park because 1) it is free 2) there may be birds to see. Poor R has lugged her binoculars around all day with very little to see. We get the VIP treatment from the traffic police on the Kala Ghoda roundabout outside the park, as they stop traffic to ensure we can cross the roads safely. The locals just have to take their chances. 

Inside the park we begin to wonder if the council have advertised us as a new attraction. Everybody wants photos with us and this almost leads to a rail disaster when the park's toy train has to hoot very loud to shift the crowd out of the way. We manage to find parts of the park that we missed trying to escape Auntie Waterworks including the crocodile enclosure where one of the beasts obligingly displays its teeth.  R even finds a place where she can indulge her earring obsession. It is time to move on when the lamp posts start playing Bollywood hits.

Nature calls, which is our current to head for Baroda's poshest hotel where we pay a small fortune for two lots of tea but we get to use the luxurious loos and plug a phone charger in. Three hours down, three to go. We take a wander through the markets then return to Kansaar, the restaurant that we ate in on Sunday. We had another wonderful Thali full of sweet Gujarati goodies but could only spin it out for an hour or so and were reduced to the AC Waiting Room at the station.The source of the mysterious bing-dong noise is revealed as the station announcements. The noise carries but not the announcements that it divides. Our train is only 15 minutes  late and we soon get sorted out when it arrives.