Small but Perfectly Formed

First a late result from last night. Rosena nil, chillies won but she is OK now.

We have had quite a sensational few days! Tigers and wild elephants on Wednesday,  great hornbills and really cross elephants on Thursday, forktail-creeper-dipping things on Friday, a Shatabdi  on Saturday but today tops them all. We are going to bag the elusive Kalka-Shimla Railmotor which runs on the 96 km long 2 foot 6 inch gauge railway from Kalka to Shimla. We had this on last years plan but the connecting train from rat infested Tundla Junction was so late that we missed it and had to get a car to make up the lost time. This is why we have spent an afternoon and night in Kalka. This is why D got up at 2.15 a.m. in Scotland on the day before we left to travel to India in order to book tickets for this particular train. If you are left cold by utterly magical rail trip stories skip the next 8 paragraphs.

Our alarms go off at 4 am and we quickly prepare ourselves. The bill was paid last night so no delays in checking out and we make good time through the darkness on our walk to the station. R skips across the mainline like a veteran and we stroll along the platform. There is hardly anybody stirring but a couple of trains are in at the NG platforms.  We find a bench and park the luggage. Yesterday we saw a notice that told us that only one small case per person could be accommodated on the Railmotor.  This is India. Nobody travels with one small case. D's plan is designed to cope with this possible problem. By 4.50 people are beginning to arrive and the tea stall is open. The proprietor should be shot. He has installed one of the ghastly vending machines that dispenses disgusting sweet froth. D finds a railway employee to ask which platform we should be at.

Platform 7 at Kalka station may well be the shortest platform in India and it doesn't even qualify for a hanging number but D notes that the points are set for it. In a few minutes a shape reverses out of the gloom and can be clearly identified as a 'Galloping Goose' style rail car, resplendent in red and cream livery. We make best speed to platform 7 and are first aboard. We quickly deposit our enormous rucksacks in a space at the back of the cabin and look for our seat numbers. There are no numbers and the man with the charts appears to indicate that it is free seating. D grabs the seat inside the door that has a great view forward through the windscreen beside the driver. R sits in the pair over the aisle and we dump our hats etc on the seat between us. There are three rows of seats behind us and a pair in front of R occupied by the man with the charts.  There is just time to grab a proper chai from a man with a barrow on one of the platforms. The afore mentioned connecting train, the Kalka Mail, has made it into the mainline station and bleary eyed crowds are flocking onto the narrow gauge platforms. 

Departure time for the Railmotor is 5.10. It leads a procession up into the mountains.  The Shivalik Deluxe Express, which we took 4 years ago, leaves at 5.30 and then an all stops passenger at 6.00 a.m. The Railmotor cannot be delayed as it needs to stay a full section ahead of the SDL. At 5.09 two young Indian families board, apparently travelling together, and with two toddlers in tow. They occupy seats behind us and have their ticket checked. So that's what happened to the four tickets D was unable to book. His conscience is appeased by the fact that there were unallocated seats on the charts pasted on some of the SDL coaches so nobody is getting stranded in Kalka. A later look at the Railmotor chart shows that there were no Wait List passengers for that either. For the vast sum of almost £16 we have a virtual private train for the next five hours.

Only a couple of minutes late the driver appears,  fires up the engine and switches on the headlight. A quick toot of the rather weedy hooter and we are off. Kalka is quite literally the place where the North Indian Plain ends and the foothills of the Himalayas begin. The railway starts climbing immediately and twists and turns across the face of the slope to gain height without exceeding the designed maximum gradient of 1 in 33. The suburbs of Kalka have spread up the slopes and at times the track is running through a mere narrow passage between high rise buildings. It is still dark but the headlamp is pretty powerful and illuminates the route ahead. As well as a driver there is a second crew member who starts the trip sitting on the padded bench in front of the windscreen.  He sees D filming out of the window and most considerately squeezes into the corner so as not to obstruct the view. His main duty appears to be pouring cups of chai for the driver out of a thermos flask. 

The KS is a properly run railway with signals, block sections and tokens. There is none of the Keystone Kops train chasing that the DHR goes in for here. As we approach the first station the driver opens his window and holds out the metal hoop with the token attached to it. On the platform a man stands with a similar metal hoop in one hand and a flaming torch in the other. The Railmotor slows but does not stop and a seamless swop of metal hoops is achieved,  apparently without anybody getting burned in the process. The driver checks that he has received the correct token for the section ahead then accelerates back to the steady cruising speed of 40 kph. At the next station D is ready with his camera to catch the action, flaming torch and all, but the movement, low light and relection from the glass mean that the photo is a dud. It starts to get light and the next station is a scheduled stop so there are no more flaming torches. Behind us in the cabin the other passengers are all spark out asleep.  Don't they realise what they are missing?

It gets steadily lighter but is definitely a two fleece morning.  Last time, when we rode the SDL, R was extremely grumpy on the train but even she is enjoying this as the views start to unfold. The fact that nobody is singing or screaming as we go through the tunnels probably helps her mood. There are 103 tunnels on this line and it can get a bit wearing. It is fascinating to see the inside of the tunnels lit up by the headlight. In some of them there are birds flying about. The longest tunnel brings us out at Barog Station where the train halts for ten minutes. We make use of the facilities and get very welcome bread omelets (omelet between two slices of toast) which are just as good as we remember them. They even do us black tea without sugar. 

Soon we are under way again, with all but one passengers awake. The second man has retired to the seat in front of R and D moves forward to get a better view. The driver invites him to sit on the bench. This is OK but an awkward angle for filming. At the next stop D returns to his seat and one of the Indian dads takes the place with his young son. Start them young. Dad number 2 still stretched out comatose across the seats at the back of the cabin. The other child is an inquisitive little girl who is soon exploring the cabin and making friends. Nobody seems to have any English but we get along by passing round our bag of boiled sweets. Everybody has one except the driver. R's copy of Good Housekeeping is a big hit. Even the second man spends a while flicking through it. 

At one station we cross a downhill train and at a couple of others we seem to have lengthy halts for no good reason. At one D asks the driver if we are waiting to cross another train and he explains that we have closed up behind the 4.00 passenger out of Kalka and need to wait for it to clear the section ahead. He thinks that this might need explaining but D tells him that he is a trainee signalman on a steam heritage railway at home and understands what he means. At this the driver shakes D's hand and tells him that if he has time he can see the steam loco at Shimla. The worldwide brotherhood of railwaymen at work. We wind through the pine forests in hazy sunshine and climb the last few feet into Shimla where we arrive only 40 minutes late. The Railmotor is beseiged by porters offering to carry our bags for only 100 rupees before they even know where we want to go. We have a pretty strict policy of carrying our own bags as we have had several rows with porters who change the price part way through a job. R is deposited in a seat with the bags, D waves cheerio to his buddy the driver and walks along the track for a hundred yards to the steam shed. Not only is the elusive steam loco, number 520, sitting there in the sun. It is coaled up and is in fairly regular use on charter trains on the upper section of the line. One of the staff tells D it was steaming and in use yesterday. Damn! We will just have to come back again.

That's the train bit over. We find a taxi at the entrance to the station who quotes a reasonable price and takes us straight to the Hotel Kapil. There is an air of competence about this place and we know that we are going to like it as soon we walk in. Check in is efficient and we are soon in a nicely furnished room with the kettle on. There are some nice touches such as the electric blanket with separate zone controls and a very nice bathroom. After a cup of tea we head out to attend to a couple of chores. As we pass reception we are asked if we want a complimentary lift up the hill to the bottom of the bazaar steps. A really nice touch but we have been doing too much sitting lately and the walk will do us good. It is brutal, up a steep hill and then up stairs at over 6,000 feet. We need an EPO shop. To facilitate recovery we head to the Indian Coffee House for a late second breakfast of coffee and toast. Last time we were in Shimla was mid February.  Today it seems to be much busier than it was then, mainly Indian tourists but a handful of  Westerners on the Mall. There are hawkers selling hats, wigs, candyfloss, selfie sticks and more. There are even people buying them.

We find the ATM that suits us at Scandal Point, one of the best addresses we know of, and then look for a top up for D's SIM card. In India they call top ups recharging which is a bit confusing to start with. The first place we try says that he has no Idea credit, the second seems to be a goer until D mentions that it is a Kolkata number. The guy immediately looks terrified and cannot get rid of us quickly enough. At the third place a young Sikh guy with excellent English sorts things out. He needs to see the text from the last top up which contains some information that allows him to process the transaction.  One gig of data for Rs 251 and it seems to work perfectly well up here. In between recharge merchants we sort out our transport for tomorrow in a relatively painless fashion.

By now our early start regime is catching up with us and we return to the Hotel Kapil for an hour's snooze. When we wake up three hours later it is starting to get dark. The hotel does food but only on a room service basis so we decide to brave the climb back into town for supper. It is easier this time and we are soon seated in a booth at the Goofa Bar & Restaurant,  a Himachal Pradesh State gaff that we remember from our previous visit. We order beer and papads while we peruse the menu and then order thalis. When they arrive they are vast and whilst we enjoy we cannot finish them. It is a struggle to squeeze in the Gulab Jamun that comes as part of the Thali menu but somehow we manage it.  A perfect end to a really brilliant day.