The Darjeeling Mail

Sealdah was the usual hustle and bustle, not much helped by the vast excavations in the forecourt that are something to do with the new Metro line. We were stopped by a policeman who asked where we were going. When we told him he directed us to Platform 9B. The entrance to the platform had what appeared to be an optional luggage scanner. Most people including us put our bags through but some just strolled by unchallenged.

The preceding train had not yet departed and there was a significant portion of the platform being rebuilt. The usual family soap operas were being played put on the platform as R guarded the luggage and D went to examine the charts. Coupe D. R is a bit miffed at being allocated the upper bunk but D does the decent thing and offers to swap.

The train is shunted into the platform in good time and we get ourselves settled in. R is impressed with the linen. Both pillows and three out of four sheets are spotless. The on train security is Rajdhani class as a black Labrador declines to sniff either our feet or our luggage. The western style lavatory at the end of the coach brings us crashing back to reality.

The ticket check comes very soon after departure. Despite claims that the Railways have ramped up ID checks, particularly for those travelling with Senior Discount, nobody wants to look at our passports. Formalities out of the way we crash.
At 6.30 we wake to a very foggy view of West Bengal. It takes a while to work out but we are running two hours late. By 8 am the fog is starting to clear but we are still crawling along. Eventually we pass a lengthy freight train that has been looped and our speed picks up.

The train passes through the splendidly named Chattar Hat station. D consults his Indian Railway Atlas and discovers that this used to be called Tin Mile Hat station. Even more splendid. Eventually some vendors appear and we get chai to wash down our breakfast biscuits.

We pulled into NJP around two and a half hours late. It was a good job that we were not relying on the daily narrow gauge train up to Darjeeling as it was long gone. There was a minor panic as D had to run back to the train to recover our hats. Our driver was waiting patiently and we set off through the traffic chaos that is Siliguri. He was a very polite Ghurka man with decent driving skills. He played 70s and 80s soft rock easy listening on the sound system. To R's disgust this included several Eagle's tracks.

Much of the route parallels the DHR but the middle section was a newish road via Rohini. This was much better than a road into the hills that we travelled in 2011 but it still had its moments. As we climbed into the Himalayas it got much cooler and eventually we were inside the clouds.
We were delivered without fuss to the Hotel Shangri-La Residency, a tall narrow building halfway up the town. They are expecting us and formalities are brief. Our room is on the floor above the rooftop restaurant, up five flights of stairs, and no joke at nearly 7,000 feet altitude.

We are starving and order lunch which gets delivered from a sister hotel. The menu has a Tibetan section so we order momos and thupka, a sort of soup/stew full of noodles. This was accompanied by a sweet toasted flat bread and it was all delicious. After lunch we unpacked and caught up with our admin. Contact was made with the man who is to be our birding guide on Friday. (Thank you Pitter Patter for your assistance).

The main purpose in visiting Darjeeling is to see and ride on NG trains so we must stop wasting time. D's attempt at finding a shortcut to the station got us horribly lost but we made it just in time to see the last steam hauled departure for the day. Honour satisfied we then went shopping to buy a Thermos flask followed by excellent tea and cake at Glenary's. It was so good we forgot to take a picture.

By now it was dark and we stumbled back to the hotel. Note to selves. Why pack torches if you aren't going to carry them. For the Cocktail Hour we adjourned to Joey's Pub, a cheerful spot, with a 60's cool jazz soundtrack. R approved highly. We dined at the original Shangrila, indulging our onion pakora cravings for the first time this trip. The food and service were excellent. We left the restaurant at 9 pm and walked home through silent and deserted streets.