The Toy Train To The Top

Ewan:

We stepped onto the platform at Kalka with the morning glow backlighting the hills in the distance. It was very early. We had our 2nd class cabin tickets (the cheapest ones), and we stumbled down the platform looking for our carriage. 

This was the 'Toy Train' to Shimla, a town up in the Indian Himalayan hills to the north. We'd specifically  singled out this journey as being a big highlight of our trip and were eager to get going. The carriages were slightly smaller than the usual Indian ones but to be fair, far outgrew their 'Toy' label. About ten of these carriages were pulled by a single Diesel Locomotive, which had dirty black smoke stains down it's flank. If you missed the first train at 05:30, you could catch the second at 06:00. We were on the latter.

The whistle blew and with a jolt, off we went.

Our carriage was filled with people; a large majority of which were Indian holiday makers. Opposite me sat two young Indian ladies with a daughter each on their laps. The two girls stared out the window wide-eyed as the countryside swept past.

As with most trains in India, there weren't really any doors as such, or if there were, they wouldn't be closed. This meant that Tom and myself were free to hang onto the siderail as we leaned out to get the best view. Occasionally we'd have to duck our heads back in as a tunnel loomed into view (of which there are 102 tunnels on this journey), but as the train travels uphill, it was slow enough to be safe.

We watched as the sun rose. The shiny silver tracks of the railway sliced through the forest and up the mountains. Behind us you could see the rails glistening in the sun, meandering like a snake's tail down below.

It was hugely picturesque. Everyone crammed against the windows to take it in. All except for one Indian boy, who had fallen asleep on Dom's shoulder...

* * *

George:

"Damnit. Tree." I flicked through the last ten pictures I'd taken to reveal a nice collection of tree and tunnel shots, but not a single picture of the spectacular hillscape behind. Taking a decent picture out the door of a moving, climbing, rattling and rocking train that is constantly twisting up an overgrown hillside, is not the easiest thing to achieve. Ewan, Tom, two Ukrainian girls, an Indian man and myself were all  taking turns at the door to try and capture the landscape, but with limited success. Ewan took to filming the roof of the train because at least that way no trees could get in the way.

It was a rare opportunity then when the train slowed up and finally came to rest at one of only four stops on our five our jaunt into the hills. A train station, if you can call it that, in the middle of nowhere selling drinks, pancakes and samosas. Everyone disembarked straight onto the track, because there were no platforms, and ran around to grab food and take snaps devoid of foreground plant life before the train moved off again. Luckily each stop lasted about 15 minutes so there was plenty of time, but even so you had to be careful. None of us were caught out, but the train could start moving at any moment, and with very little warning. One of the Ukrainian girls literally had to be hauled onto the train as it left the end of one platform, legs dangling over the track, hillside dropping away fast, food scattered all over the floor and only held on board by about 14 men who had suddenly decided it was their job to help out. Nothing like a woman falling off a mountain to bring out the Macho side of an entire carriage.

"Oh Crap." I heard Tom say, and I couldn't help but smile as I saw him deleting pictures of trees.

* * *

Ewan:

Five hours of spectacular countryside later we all were left wondering rather where the time had gone. We pulled in at Shimla Station deeply satisfied and ready to see more. We dropped our bags off at the hotel, which had spectacular views from it's restaurant, and walked towards the town center.

It is astonishing how European Shimla is! It was mainly built by the Brits in the mid 1800's but it has a more Austrian/Swiss feel to it. They did a good job of it too; there was not a single piece of flat ground to be seen for miles. Buildings everywhere had been constructed on some sort of slope or improbable mountain edge. Walking around it was quite surreal. A European hillside town with local Indians strutting along the streets. It had a pleasant feel to it. Near and around the centre, everybody walked. No cars, no traffic, no horns. What's more, nobody seemed to mind. Everyone was quite content to walk to their destination. Some tourists were even on horseback!

Sticking to the European theme, a church stood across from the town square. We went in to see what it was like, and found that a few people were in there to pray. It seemed like any other  church you would visit, except playing on a PA was some strange 'background' music. It certainly wasn't your normal church soundtrack. We left.

* * *

George:

As darkness descended quickly in the mountains, Ewan and I finally acknowledged that the steps we were on, were not the steps back down to the hotel. The town of Shimla sat behind us, a night light on the hillside, and ahead the path started to wind and disappear into the valley, swallowed instantly by the night. After our indie-pop church experience Tom and Dom had stayed in the town to get pizza while we'd started straight back. But given the length of time it had taken us so far just to get lost, the others might well get back to the hotel before us, which would be unfortunate as I had the only key to the room. Ewan and I turned around and started tramping back up the way we'd just come, slightly faster than before.

There are no tuk tuks in Shimla. No taxis or rikshaws. For the past 40 minutes Ewan and I had been walking down largely deserted roads and narrow alleyways which criss crossed their way accross the hills in a most confusing fashion. At intervalls along the roads narrow stone steps brached off down the cliff face, dodging between tall stone houses and diminutive wooden sheds before quickly vanishing from view. One of these staircases had been the one we'd walked up from the hotel earlier, but as the sun was setting behind the ridge in the distance all the staircases began to look the same. There were very few signs or billboards promoting hotel names, and almost no-one to ask. All we had to go on was our memory of roughly where on the hill our hotel should be. 

As we walked it was interesting to see the night life of a mountain town swing into action. In the town center there were bars and clubs such as you might find in a small seaside town in the UK. A tacky rollerblading rink with the whiff of a Great Yarmouth pleasure beach. But on the outskirts things were a lot quieter, and a beautiful mix of cultures. Softly lit European architecture supplying the backdrop with fairy lit fruit stalls and brightly coloured fabric vendors providing the local colour. Maybe it was just nice to have a taste of home, but the European influence, the lower temperature, the lack of crowds and the cleaner air really gave shimla a relaxing feel. Ewan and I were completely lost in an unknown town with night falling around us, but neither of us felt at all ill at ease. In fact I was probably the most relaxed I'd been anywhere in India.

Another half hours worth of completely random but very pleasant sauntering, and a complete fluke of a choice of road led Ewan and I straight into the open arms of our hotel foyer. Tom and Dom had yet to return, clearly having got lost somewhere else in the maze of carbon copy roads and staircases, the hotel equivalent of Where's Wally. 

As Ewan and I settled down for the night under torch light, (what we were beginning to suspect was a rolling power cut had knocked out the whole block for the third time that night), both of us felt that we could easily have spent more time in Shimla, though one could have a similar holiday in a dozen places in Europe. Our very fleeting visit had been concentrated on the train journey more than the town at its end, and the next morning we would have to set off early to make our way back to Delhi and then on to Kathmandu. But despite the days of travel, and the short time in the town, Shimla was definitely worth a visit. An entirely different India again, a reminder of our own countries part in its history, and a beautiful image with which to leave a vast and incredibly variable country.