Sometimes, Jarrod, people make big claims about an experience or attraction. They set the Expectation Bar dizzyingly high, only to have you arrive and go “huh. Well, I guess it’s nice…” and half heartedly take a few photos you know won’t make it onto Facebook. A lot of people talk up the train journey to Ella this way and frankly, it makes me nervous. “It’s absolutely stunning” they gush. “The most beautiful train journey in the world!” Look, I’ve caught trains here in Melbourne and they are pret-ty special too. I only hope this trip through lush green tea plantations can top this:
Having missed out on a train seat from Kandy to Nuwara Eliya, (damn you, school holidays!) I’m steeling myself for disappointment when I get to the ticket counter at the station, but the transport gods smile upon me and there is a single spot available in the First Class Observation carriage for the princely equivalent of $10AUD.
The train is delayed by about an hour so when it does finally arrive, we abandon any illusions we’re going to glide aboard in serene First Class fashion, and pile urgently into the carriage to make a beeline for our (allocated) seats as if we’re playing goddamn musical chairs. All of the limited overhead baggage space is full so I cram my backpack under my legs, crank open the window and purchase some little fried balls of dahl sold by a vendor, wrapped in some child’s old school homework.
And the train journey? It really is worth the hype. The scenery is just hours and hours of gorgeous. I can literally feel my blood pressure dropping, it’ s that relaxing. Unfortunately for me, the components that usually make for great landscape photography (having a tripod, being stationary) aren’t a possibility so these photos are taken on the move, rattling and jiggling over railway sleepers.
But you get the gist…
Believe it or not, there is something more mesmerising on this journey than the scenery outside. And that is ferocious intensity with which some passengers attack the obviously make or break project of getting their quintessential ‘wistful shot hanging out the side of the moving train.’ Now, I know I am prone to banging on about staged wisty shots, but this is completely NEXT LEVEL STUFF. As in, occupying a train doorway for twenty minutes, hanging out by one hand, hair billowing and staring faux nonchalantly into the middle distance, while their slave friend leans out a window a few rows away, taking HUNDREDS of photos. There are even wardrobe changes occurring. For real. Meanwhile I happily spectate, scoffing bags of fried dahl, like Michael Jackson gobbling popcorn in those ‘just here for the comments’ memes. (Nb. I do ask a fellow passenger to take a photo of me, admittedly. She takes a total of four photos, it takes all of twenty seconds, and it will probably garner all of 20 Instagram likes, tops)
We stop for a little break and stretch our legs, and the conductor hustles me up to the front of the train for a photo with the engine, because apparently I look like someone who loves a photo with a locomotive?
(Okay, I totally am. You got me).
And then it’s all aboard again for another hour or so-
Before finally……!!!
Now I haven’t just come to Ella to relentlessly hum Rhianna tunes, tempting as that obviously is. I’m here to relax, sip tea and read whilst drinking in mountain views. And when the view from your bedroom looks like this:
-that’s easy enough really.
I do have three other things on my Ella Agenda: 1) Visit Lipton’s Seat, 2) hike to Little Adam’s Peak and 3) hike to Ella Rock.
Lipton’s Seat is a lookout where Sir Thomas Lipton apparently used to sit, and contemplate his tea empire. Probably similar to the way I stand before my wardrobe soaking in my collection of Gorman frocks. It’s said that the views from up there rival the views from World’s End. Much like World’s End, the reviews on Trip Advisor seem to recommend that you need to get to Lipton’s Seat early unless you’re hungry for views of impenetrable white fog. The host at my homestay dismisses this and reassures me I’ll be fine to get there a bit later, and books a tuk tuk to take me there, departing 8am.
Alas. By the time I get to the top–
Hello foggy, my old friend….
Ah well. I hover about for a bit to see if the mist will clear, only to have it seemingly settle in with more determination, if that is possible. So I snap a photo with Sir Lipton:
–and break the news to him that back home, his tea is really not considered that great. Basically the tea equivalent of International Roast “coffee.”
I think we can all agree he has taken the news on the chin but it’s given him something to think about.
Bombshell dropped/tea opinion dispensed, I take the slow route down from Lipton’s Seat, walking the descent through the tea plantations of Dambatenne rather than tuk tuk’ing. Which takes roughly two hours including incessant stops for photos–
There are even some sweet little inspirational signs on the walls by the road en route–
At one point the mist starts to roll in and obliterate even the low lying vista, almost prompting a rage stroke–
But it dissipates before it reaches actual Hound Of The Baskervilles density and I can see again!
I get to the base just as the tea pickers are making their way in to have their morning’s work weighed and they’re happy for a quick snap
I’ll cover the two hikes in my next blog, lest this turn into something that rivals War And Peace, but let me know your thoughts so far! The train journey to Ella and Lipton’s Seat: Jarrod, would you go there?
Whispering sweet secrets to Lipton. Looked wonderful. Another little part of the world I must get to one day.