After my last journey to Chinnar, a thought began to evoke within me: perhaps it was time to change how I travelled. My last few journeys were either by bus, train, or car. Driving to reach places felt a bit detached. I wanted to feel the wind, the rain, and the pulse of the landscape I was passing through, not merely watch them through a window. That's when I decided to hit the road on my Bullet, not just as a mode of transport but as a way to reconnect with the journey itself.
I’ve travelled to many places on my Bullet before, but it had been quite some time since I last took it for a long ride. So, when my friend Vishnu Prasad and I decided to visit Pampadum Shola National Park, the smallest national park in Kerala, we knew there was no better way to get there than on our Bullets.
Pampadum Shola
Tucked away in the misty high ranges of Kerala’s Idukki district, Pampadum Shola National Park is a small yet ecologically rich sanctuary that forms part of the Western Ghats — a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Spread across just 1.32 square kilometres, it holds the title of being Kerala’s smallest national park, but its biodiversity is astonishing. The name “Pampadum Shola” translates to “the forest where the snake dances” in Malayalam. The park is covered by shola forests — ancient, high-altitude ecosystems interlaced with rolling grasslands, mist, and streams that feed the Periyar River. For nature lovers and travel enthusiasts, it’s not just a destination; it’s a glimpse into one of South India’s most pristine mountain ecosystems.
Home to several endemic species like the Nilgiri marten, Kerala laughingthrush, and black-and-orange flycatcher, Pampadum Shola is also frequented by Indian gaur, sambar deer, leopards, and dholes. Black langurs and common macaques are common. Tiger sightings have been reported in the park. Elephants, however, are seldom seen here. Their absence is likely due to the park's small size, its isolation from major elephant corridors, and the difference in ecological niches; the high-altitude environment of the park isn't conducive for these large animals to thrive.
The flagship animal of this national park is the Nilgiri marten—the only marten species found in South India, thriving in the jungles of Western Ghats and Nilgiris. This animal is deep brown from head to rump, with the forequarters being almost reddish, and a bright throat ranging in colour from yellow to orange. Highly elusive by nature, they are rarely seen in the wild. Despite being diurnal, this solitary mustelid spends much of its time in trees, moving swiftly across treetops, making their sighting a bit challenging. Exact numbers are unknown, though it is estimated that fewer than 1,000 individuals remain in the wild. As a result, they are listed as endangered on the IUCN list.
Made like a gun, goes like a Bullet
On a fine morning in the third week of September, we set off on our journey to Pampadum Shola on our motorcycles. The weather was moderate, even though different districts across the state were experiencing light to moderate rain showers and thundershowers. Our journey went smoothly until we reached Adimaly, where road widening work on National Highway 85 (NH 85) by the NHAI was underway. We encountered mild traffic from there until Pallivasal, where vehicles from both directions were queued up on different stretches of the road due to the ongoing project. We had our lunch from a restaurant in Adimaly.
Since our journey fell on a weekend, the towns along the way—especially Munnar—were bustling with tourists. Shops, pumps, restaurants, and street vendors were crowded with customers. Our Bullets revved through the town before turning toward the Munnar-Top Station road, cruising along stretches flanked by enchanting tea estates and towering eucalyptus trees.
After crossing Mattupetty Dam, we encountered another stretch of traffic congestion, this time more severe. However, we managed to snake our way through the chaos, moving past tourist buses from both Kerala and Tamil Nadu, parked along the roadside with visitors spilling out. A few furlongs ahead, we came upon a large group of tourists dancing by the roadside, grooving to a popular Malayalam folk song sung by the late Kalabhavan Mani. The music blared from a bus through amplified speakers, momentarily shattering the serenity of this ecologically sensitive landscape.
A few years ago, I was fortunate enough to photograph elephants along this very route. Mattupetty, with its reservoir, surrounding grasslands, and forest patches, provides elephants with reliable access to water, especially during the dry months. The open grasslands around the dam also offer ample natural fodder. Additionally, Mattupetty’s location acts as a natural movement corridor, allowing these pachyderms to move toward Eravikulam and the Anamudi slopes. Unlike the dense vegetation of the shola forests, Mattupetty’s mid-elevation terrain offers a more conducive environment for elephants to navigate and meet their ecological needs.
Our Bullets reached Top Station, a scenic mountain pass and popular tourist destination. It's a key route junction for travel toward Vattavada and Pampadum Shola National Park. We took a left turn onto the road leading to the park's main gate. The road leading to the gate was in an abysmal condition, but we reached without much fuss. After furnishing the details of our stay to the officer at the main gate, we entered a narrow forest road that led deeper into the park, winding through thick vegetation on either side.
Kurinji
We booked our stay at Pampadum Shola National Park through the official site of Munnar Wildlife. The forest stay at the park is small, simple, and economical and is managed by the Kerala Forest Department. Tucked inside the park, the property sits in an open clearing amid rolling grasslands, flanked by enchanting shola forests both in the foreground and the background. It offers four rooms for accommodation, each named after species associated with the shola ecosystem. Electricity at the property is minimal, as everything runs on solar power, sufficient for basic lighting and charging needs.
We booked a room named 'Kurinji,' named after the iconic flower 'Neelakurinji' (Strobilanthes kunthiana), a two-bed setup which is simple, compact with open grasslands stretching out in front. Adjacent to the room is another two-bed accommodation named 'Cyathea,' after the tree fern commonly found in shola forests. Both rooms are separated by a dividing wall. The property also has two five-bed rooms that face the road running through the park. These rooms are named 'Melano,' after a genus of fungi, and 'Marten,' after the elusive Nilgiri marten, respectively.
We unpacked our luggage and sat on the bed for a while. Vishnu had bought a box full of masala peanuts, which we nibbled on at short intervals. Completely smitten by the landscape, we decided to take a leisurely walk around the premises, which were woven together like a green tapestry. I took my camera out to capture some good shots of the landscape and some floral species, while Vishnu, in a state of euphoria, wandered around taking in every moment. However, we were quite oblivious to the fact that these grasslands are home to land leeches. I stepped out of the room wearing sandals and, fortunately, escaped without getting bitten by these temporary blood-feeding parasites. Vishnu, however, bore the brunt of it, as his right shin and leg fingers began to bleed after a leech bite. He dealt with it promptly by applying salt to the wound.
Although land leeches are harmless, it’s best to avoid their bites, as they can cause prolonged bleeding, skin irritation, and increase the risk of minor infections. It’s advisable to wear leech socks and carry essentials like leech repellent spray, salt or lime, and a sanitizer while trekking in such areas.
As we were completely immersed in the surroundings, a family from Nilambur who had booked rooms arrived at the property. One family checked into the Cyathea room, while the other family stayed in 'Melano'. Soon after, more guests arrived, this time in the form of a group of government pleaders who had come for a short sojourn in the park as part of a one-day tour. They arrived in a KSRTC sightseeing bus, escorted by a police vehicle. After getting to know them and chatting for a few minutes, I returned to my room to freshen up.
Suddenly, Vishnu called out to me from outside and said, "Gaurs have arrived in the grassland!" I rushed out with my camera to witness that sight. Yes, several metres away amid bushes interspersed with open grasslands, two female gaurs stood quietly. They were clearly aware of the sudden commotion, and moments later two more emerged from the bushes. The guests and the group of pleaders watched the entire scene with excitement. Some positioned themselves along the roadside, which offered an unobstructed view of the grasslands, allowing them to observe these magnificent animals without any hindrance.
Then came the alpha male—a magnificent, dominant bull gaur, the leader of the herd. He gave a short, intense stare to the onlookers before calmly returning to his grazing activity. He was accompanied by another pair of female gaurs. The bull, with its massive horns, heavy dewlap, white-stockinged legs, and his rippling muscles, was a sight to behold. A true testament of brute strength, this mega herbivore raised his head in a show of alertness. He ensured the safety of his herd with a quick reconnoitre of the area, then ambled through the grasslands, resuming his grazing.
I took many photographs of them and then moved a little further after taking permission from a forest watcher, named Aneesh. He explained that these gregarious animals often graze close to the property when a tiger is moving through the area, as the big cat tends to avoid places with human presence. This behaviour is an adaptive strategy adopted by gaurs to evade their only natural land predator.
The herd gradually drifted back into the woods after grazing in the grassland for a while. We, too, decided to return to our rooms as daylight slowly gave way to darkness. Inside, Vishnu and I discussed the journey so far. He was still mesmerised by the park's picturesque beauty and by the fact that we had spotted gaurs so soon after arriving, and that too from such a vantage point. I, too, hadn’t expected that we would witness gaurs so early.
As darkness completely shrouded the landscape, we stepped out of the room and walked to the dining area, a separate building within the property. By then, the group of pleaders had already left after finishing their meal. We soon met and engaged in a conversation with the Divisional Forest Officer (DFO) of the park, Shaji, who had arrived to resolve and supervise a power-related issue. With over 20 years of experience, he spoke about the transformation the national park has undergone over the years. He explained that the area was once dominated by wattle trees, an invasive species harmful to native vegetation and the broader ecosystem. The forest department took the initiative on a war footing to convert the area back into native grassland, which in turn provides vital fodder for herbivores such as gaurs.
Night encounter
During our conversation with the other guests, we heard a deep bellow echoing from the wooded glen of the park. Vishnu and the guests from Nilambur assumed it was the call of an elephant, but I felt certain it was the sound of a gaur—most likely a bull. The call was low, deep, and resonant, carrying through the darkness with an intensity that sent shivers down the spine, especially when heard from a forest completely blanketed in darkness.
We finished our dinner and returned to our rooms. I was hopeful of spotting a gaur—or perhaps an entire herd—grazing in front of our room. A few years ago, during an earlier stay at this very property, a herd led by a dominant bull had grazed right outside, allowing me to observe them up close. This time as well, I carried the same hope, expecting a similar sighting.
As minutes turned into hours, I lay listening intently, hoping to catch a low-pitched snort or grunt from outside. Then, suddenly, a sound—an exclamation of astonishment mixed with fear and awe—drew me out of the room. The sound, it turned out, was made by a group of bikers who had just witnessed something cross the road as they passed by. It was obvious that whatever they had seen had entered the property and was now moving closer to our vicinity. Moments later, it revealed itself—a lone, massive bull gaur, emerging silently from the darkness.
The bull stood near our Bullets, making them look like toys by comparison. At short intervals, it released forceful exhalations through its nostrils, the sound deep and resonant in the still night air. This individual was enormous—possibly even larger than the dominant bull we had seen earlier with the herd. It could easily have weighed over a tonne. Its gargantuan silhouette, looming through the mist, was enough to send a shiver down the spine. The hump on its shoulders rose higher than the Innova car brought by the guests from Nilambur.
Watching it at such close quarters, I strongly believed that even a tiger would hesitate to take on an animal of this size—any such attempt would send the cat to the pearly gates. The only other time I had seen a bull gaur of similar size was at Parambikulam Tiger Reserve, where a solitary bull had once appeared in front of a forest department bus.
I photographed the animal cautiously, using my camera’s flash only briefly and without fully focusing on it. I didn’t want to disturb the bull—bright lights can disrupt an animal’s calm and provoke irritation. After taking stock of the situation, the bull relaxed and began to graze. It raised its head occasionally in alertness, then lowered it again to munch on the grass.
The massive bovine did not pass in front of our room as I had hoped. Instead, it circled around the property and appeared behind the buildings, continuing its feeding. I eventually set my camera aside and observed the animal quietly through the window, whispering to myself, “What a specimen!”
Adult bull gaurs are often solitary, especially as they age. Unlike females and sub-adults, which usually move in small herds, mature males tend to live alone or form temporary bachelor associations. This solitary behaviour reduces competition for resources and helps dominant bulls avoid unnecessary conflicts. Solitary bulls are typically larger, heavier, and more cautious, often occupying prime feeding areas during quieter hours. Their sheer size and strength mean that, in healthy adults, natural predation by tigers is extremely rare, making them among the most formidable herbivores of the Indian jungles.
Later that night, a lone female gaur emerged to graze near the property. She moved confidently across the area, passing right in front of our room without the slightest hint of fear. Our happiness was beyond words—we had witnessed gaurs at close quarters, especially the imposing bull gaur, an experience that felt truly rare and unforgettable.
The next morning, we woke up early. I stepped outside with my camera to capture a few landscape shots and managed to photograph a Nilgiri langur perched high atop a treetop. According to Binoy, a forest officer, dholes, also known as Indian wild dogs, frequently move through this area. I felt a quiet sense of nostalgia, as during my first visit to Pampadum Shola, I had been fortunate enough to witness a pack of dholes here. Those fierce, pack-hunting canids emitted their characteristic whistling calls as they moved swiftly through the wooded glens of the park. Back then, I was even lucky enough to photograph one of them.
Later, Vishnu took part in an eco-restoration activity, and I joined him for a while. After breakfast, we checked out about an hour later. As we bid goodbye to this remarkable landscape, we carried with us memories of misty grasslands, silent forests, and unforgettable wildlife encounters—hoping, without doubt, to return someday.
