Friday 31st January - Big tick on D's bucket list.(Train alert)

Ella is a town that makes the most of its assets. Posters around the town promote the main attractions and are sponsored by the Auto Drivers Association. Basically there are five of these. One is the Ravanna Falls which we visited on the way in, another is a tea garden an hour's walk away, a third is a railway viaduct called 'Nine Arch Bridge', fourth is a Spice Garden and finally comes Little Adam's Peak. There is a bigger Adam's Peak somewhere else in Sri Lanka but it is not on our itinerary.

We rise at six thirty and get our walking gear on. It is light but the sun is hidden behind the mountains. Our route follows an undulating track through the tea gardens to the foot of the stairs leading up to the peak. These have been concreted but whoever did it didn't have a clue about evening out the height of individual steps. Part way up is the top station of an 800 metre zip wire. It is priced at 2.5 US cents per metre. They also offer abseiling and an air rifle range.

We don't count the steps but there are a few hundred of them. Thankfully they are in the shade until very near the top where there is a breeze to keep us cool. There are plenty of people up here already, at least one of them performing yoga exercises. To the west is a terrific view of yesterday's road works, to the north more mountains, to the east some misty valleys and to the south the heat haze of the plains. Descending is almost as hard work as going up but we make it safely back to the trail. Some birds are up and about but nothing too exciting. 

Back at the Spice Lodge our verandah table has been set for breakfast. A big pot of tea arrives with a fruit platter each containing yet another unknown fruit. This is yellow, looks like a flower and has a taste a bit like pineapple. To follow we get omlettes and toast. A feast fit for a king.

Today is D's day out, when he is allowed to go train riding without adult supervision. R is going to do more cerebral things like drawing. The temperature is rising but still pleasant as D strides out towards the town centre. The plan is to go by bus to Badulla and then ride the train back to Ella. The peculiar timetable makes it very difficult to go both ways on the train without having to kill a lot of time in Badulla. D has researched and believes he has identified the correct stop for the Badulla bus. A lady waiting at the stop confirms this. The first bus is not the correct one but the conductor of the second one gives D the nod when he asks. Most of the buses are single deck Ashok Lanka Leyland's, primitive technology but still going strong out here. There are front and rear doors with two seats on one side of the aisle and three on the other which can make things cosy. This particular bus is decked out like some fringe sect's place of worship but is less than half full so a comfy seat on the back row is achieved.

The driver is a man possessed, apparently intending to deliver a half busload of souls to Paradise a bit early. We have had some wild bus rides in Himachal Pradesh and Madeira but this takes the biscuit. Most passengers adopt a variation of the brace position as we speed along between hairpin bends. Luckily there are plenty of grab handles. After a while it dawn's on D that we are heading south towards the sun rather than north. Risking one less handhold to consult Google maps becomes necessary. We are apparently heading for Bandarawela not Badulla. The conductor confirms this and stops the bus, waving across the road. A lady seated on the row in front tells D to go to the bus stop on the other side of the road. The first two buses are going back to Ella but the third says Badulla on the front and the conductor confirms. Things look good on Gmaps and the driving on this bus is sane, tending to pedestrian. The 11.00 departure is now oot the windae but there should be plenty of time to get the 11.45. No real financial damage either as the two fares combined total about 45p.

Badulla is dismissed in a paragraph by LP but doesn't look too bad. It is a proper town with a clock tower and a manic bus station. D engages an auto for the trip across town to the railway station which is a much more tranquil place. A third class ticket is purchased for 30 rupees, so the trip will cost roughly a rupee per km. On the platform the Senior Stationmaster supervises, dressed a bit like the naval member of a South American junta.

This official confirms that the train being shunted into the main platform is the 11.45. The wonders of serendipity have delivered again for D. The train is a mixed train, carrying both freight wagons and passenger coaches, a type of train not seen in the UK for many decades. D has always wanted to travel on a mixed, on a genuine timetabled train on a real railway. To think this might not have happened if he had not got on the wrong bus. The freight wagons concerned are a 5,800 gallon tanker carrying some sort of dangerous liquid. The liquid's name ends in 'ylene' but the start of the name appears to have been burned off the wagon. The other wagon is a boxcar and there are two third class coaches and a first class, non a/c observation coach at the rear. D is briefly tempted but it would mean getting another ticket and missing out on door riding. The whole ensemble is hauled by a smartly turned out diesel. The third class coach chosen is a bit battered and grubby but could be worse.

D quickly bags a window seat on the right hand side of the train which is a) shady and b) the best side to see the views according to a man we met yesterday. There is time to get a few photos then things start to happen. The token is walked along the platform to the loco, a man in khaki vigorously rings a handbell and an assistant or under Stationmaster blows a whistle. The loco hoots and we are away.

There is one other person in D's coach and it didn't look like too many other people got on. The track is pretty rough and the coaches lurch and sway. Negotiating the corridor connection to the next coach with its jumping metal footplates looks like something for people with stronger nerves than D. The line climbs up the valley side quite steeply. The gradient boards have numbers like 44 and 56 on them. Not much level track and work for the loco to do.  There are a couple of short tunnels and some steep sided cuttings through rock. As scenic rail trips go it is definitely a good one.

In places the vegetation intrudes through the open window. There are three intermediate stops where nobody seems to get on or off but parcels are loaded into the guards compartment in the first coach. There are semaphore signals and a token exchange at at least one of the stops. About two thirds of the way through the trip the line does a full clockwise spiral to gain height. The crossing actually happens where the lower level is in a tunnel so no nifty photos available. You may remember the Ella Big Five. We cross the Nine Arch Bridge where there is the sort of crowd that greets Flying Scotsman. People are actually on the viaduct taking pictures of D taking pictures of them. Network Rail would have a fit and trains would be suspended.

As we approach Ella there is a man with a green flag standing under a semaphore signal at danger. The train proceeds and pulls into the right hand of two platforms. D dawdles taking photos and sees the man with the green flag walk the entire length of the station and take position under the home signal controlling trains from the other direction. Soon another train approaches, also a mixed. This is much busier. Hordes of pink people get off the train and D resists the temptation to tell them what they are missing. Instead he heads off to cull several hundred photos while sipping a well deserved beer.

Back at the ranch R claims to have had totally unmitigated fun. How is that possible without trains?  We enjoy a thoroughly lazy afternoon before heading out for cocktails and supper. The restaurant that we ate in last night is clearly the hottest spot in town but we decide to look elsewhere. The place we choose is much smaller but has a few diners in. We get a table inside, away from the traffic. There is a vague smell of paraffin which we track down to the hurricane lamp on our table. We order Sri Lankan. R had kottu - chicken, veg and bread chopped up and fried. D had Devilled chicken which tasted mainly of tomato sauce. The best bit was the side dish of battered garlic. No vampires tonight, no friends tomorrow.