Mary Budden Estate

Tues 10th to Friday 13th April

It was still very dark. There had been a colossal thunderstorm the night before. From somewhere outside the cocoon of the duvet and all its dark encompassing warmth came the familiar ringtapping of the alarm. Oh no! Time to wrench myself from this delicious lair and tog up to catch the dawn, and, we desperately hoped, a glimpse of the Himalayas, roughly 70 miles away. Would we be lucky?

We had left the Itmenaan Estate only a couple of days ago although already it felt a world away. The journey, meant to have been two hours, had been winding and interminable. As we finally crossed the threshold of the Binsar Estate (a bird sanctuary area about 24kms from Almora if you are looking at the map) at roughly 2300m, I thought ‘great, we’re nearly here’. But no. For a further 7kms, the last two of which were on unmade roads, it was another endless twist and wind up an increasingly steep incline. Pine trees gave way to ancient oak forests as we ascended. The single track road got narrower and narrower, and the contours ever tighter and more serpentine, until the slackening of my jaw at the steep drops below became entirely involuntary. Gaping like a fish I simply could not believe this was a real route. On and on we went, until at last we arrived, rumpled but relieved at our destination: Rhododendron Cottage on the Mary Budden Estate. http://www.marybuddenestate.in/history.html

Full of beguiling charm and aplomb we were greeted by Rudolph, the manager, who showed us to our quarters. More jaw slackening followed as it dawned on us that we had the whole building to ourselves, and a broad terrace to boot, overlooking the forests below. Not only this but we were the only guests, with local village staff there to look after us. When we had booked online, we had not appreciated the full extent of the accommodation. Suppressing squeals of amazement we contented ourselves with sneaking a few photographs.

The first day, we spent on a couple of walks. The first of those, during a cold but sunny morning, was with Deepak Joshi, an expert naturalist, who indicated a great many birds and plant species to us. It was like going to school, learning to use your eyes and ears properly for the first time.

For those readers botanically minded we were introduced to:

Berberis Vulgaris – which Deepak informed us was used to treat eye infections

Thalictrum – with its small blue green leaf

Turmeric – the root of which he dug out from the earth under a tree, often used as an anti inflammatory

Pallistacum (fern)

Quercus Incana – a beautiful silvery leafed oak, prevalent throughout the bird sanctuary.

Quercus Floribunda – another of the many varieties of oak growing up there above the pine belt

Chinese bamboo – tall thin and spidery, and used for basket weaving

A Lilac with its young red leaves

Daphne bushes still in bud (one of my favourites back home for its soft scent)

The ‘elephant eared’ Begonia, which Deepak called ‘pata chacha’, known for its ability to break down gallstones!! (His father had survived his by using this remedy).

And the pièces de resistance – a 300 year old oak and a two hundred year old Rhododendron. See below!

There was also the beautiful pale tall cedar tree or ‘deodar’ growing in abundance.

Deepak showed us more plant species too numerous to mention or illustrate here, but these were intermingled with ear training.. we learnt to listen for:

• The calls of the hoopoe (which sound like a resonant version of its name: hoopoo, hoopoo)
• The cuckoo
• White bellied blue flycatcher
• Rufus silvia (a descending slightly plaintive little sound)
• The barbet (he gets around)
• A multitude of warblers and tits
• The gritty notes of the Laughing Thrush
• The tappy woodpecker
• The rhythmic and gentle ‘toot tootoot- toot tootoot, of a small collared owl

It was a plethora of new music. Strangely after only a couple of days, I found myself better able to hear the birds than spot them. Jeremy did rather better on the sightings than I did, possibly a hawk in a previous incarnation?!

The sun had shone but it was quite cool.

Shortly after returning for lunch the heavens opened and we hunkered down by the fire.

Later that afternoon, we set forth with Deepak again, and Rudolf joined us. This time it became more and more ethereal – the pathway being overhung by the ancient cloud soaked oaks, their twisted mossy trunks standing motionless and wizard-like in the misty damp. Rudolf and I were laggards, getting the camera out at every opportunity. That’s his camera by the way not mine!

There was so much to take in

Once it became too wet to proceed we dashed back to the house and gave in to tea and cake.

Mary Budden lies in 47 square kms of protected woodland, the Binsar Estate, at roughly 2300 and 2412m at the highest peak, confusingly called Zero Point. Pines give way to oak and deciduous forest housing a rich and varied bird population, 22 leopard, porcupine and wild boar. Living there too are barking deer and the silver coated langur, who swing effortlessly through the branches.

The buildings we were staying in were once the site of an orphanage run by the redoubtable Mary Budden, unmarried daughter of a pastor, known for her many good works in the late 1800’s.

I loved the warm wood feel of the house, the perfect spot from which to write a book. The current owner has done exactly that. I must reserve some time there!

Returning to that duvet…

It was day two of our visit. We had been told that if you could see twinkly lights across the valley and the stars at 4.45am, you stood a chance of seeing the Himalayas lit up by the dawn sun. This not only involved a very early get up but a stiff march up to the look out tower at Zero Point. It had to be done. Grabbing coats and walking poles we stomped up in the dark through the steep leafy paths, torches in hand. Breathless at the top, it was time to look and marvel. There was a breathtaking view across miles of puffy cloud way below us, through which hill tops protruded like dormant whales.

Then slowly in the distance, the silhouette of significantly higher mountains could be seen.

It was an awesome sight.

It wasn’t completely clear but we could see Nanda Devi, (above) the highest peak of the Indian Himalaya at over 7,800m, looking cold and magnificent.

The higher the sun rose the more the mountains crept back into obscurity but the warmth was also very welcome

On return we wolfed a hearty breakfast, washed down by lashings of coffee.

Then, as if the legs hadn’t already been pressed sufficiently into action, Deepak arrived to take us for a wild day’s walk through the woods, dropping down 600m (2000ft) to his house.

Having been so cold early on, the sun now beat down fiercely, involving a certain amount of undressing.

Wild walk? It was for me. We started gently along the road, before swinging up hill through the woods. Thereafter we started to push along some extremely narrow overgrown paths, with little between the edge and a very long drop (1000ft). I tried to focus. Don’t look down, stop obsessing about slipping and just do the next steps, I told myself. I felt like a cat, reluctant to step on the ice. Eventually this section came to an end, no barking deer spotted, and we rejoined the road. A troop of langur monkeys was having great fun ‘hanging around’ at one corner, and Jeremy got some good footage!

Blood pressure was just returning to normal when we swung off the road once more to ascend a pine crested ridge. To my horror, more narrow steepening precipitous paths had to be negotiated, with Deepak on one occasion inviting us to stop at the narrowest point to look up at an eagle. I just hung on to my pole. We then proceeded to a delightful plateau before dropping down even further via the tiniest twisty paths. There were moments when I felt my throat constrict with humiliation, finding it hard not to fear a mistaken placement of my foot and a terrifying plunge to the bottom, punctuated by tree trunks, but I didn’t need to say much and Deepak took my hand firmly along the tricky bits. He was very kind and reassuring. “Nothing to fear”, he said. “People carry heavy loads along here..” “Hmm., not so sure about that!” I thought back. But he was marvellous and we arrived safely at Deepak’s house in the warm sun, to be introduced to his beautiful wife and two very young daughters.

He showed us round his well tended garden and the varied crops he was growing whilst holding his older daughter on one arm and speaking gently to her in a mixture of Hindi and English. She was incredibly cute. It was a privilege to be welcomed to his home located in a remote village with probably only twenty other dwellings.

After a reviving cup of ginger black tea we walked on to another village house, also part of Mary Budden, for some lunch outside. This was a blissful picnic of paneer and peas, raita, lovely potato paratha and.. some magic chutney. (See an earlier blog post!!) More wolfing. Drunk with relaxation, we lazed in the sun, removing our hot boots and just revelling in the beauty of the scene, staring up at the trees, outlined against a deep blue sky. Deepak and I chatted while Jeremy sat higher up, surveying the scene. D said how much he loved his wife, his work and his life. He didn’t go for the crowds and crush of the city. In my heart I agreed with him.

We were spared the entire walk back, and after ascending so far were met by a jeep, which ferried us all back to Mary Budden. This was almost another adventure in itself. The driver was lean and skilled, knowing exactly where each pot hole lay and how to get past the great piles of hard core encroaching into the road.

The usual afternoon storm followed but we were just glad to be back, having had another rewarding day.

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Post Script

The morning of Friday 13th dawned. It was hot. The season suddenly seemed to have changed. It was time to bid a reluctant farewell to Mary Budden and make the long trek by car to Kathgodam and on to Delhi on the Shatabdi Express.

I was very sad to leave – a bit of my soul having found a place there.

But on descending from the Estate, what should we see but this:

Nanda Devi in all her glory.

Shortly afterwards we stopped off at this wonderful Women’s Weaving Project, remerging a little later impressed by the friendly industry which was supporting all the women there.

I thought about the timeless mountain under whose shadow these women practised their ancient craft. Beauty next to beauty.