Читать книгу Gold, Sport, and Coffee Planting in Mysore - Robert H. Elliot - Страница 11

As it is probable that this account of the Gairsoppa Falls may induce travellers to visit them, I think it may be useful to give an account of the Cauvery Falls on the southern frontier of Mysore, which are well worthy of a visit, and easily accessible. The best time for visiting them is generally said to be August, or not later than the middle of September, though when I visited them on the 25th of that month last year, the river, though not in full flood, had an ample supply of water in it, and, from Mr. Bowring's description of his visit to them on November 21st,^[10] there must still, up to that date, be a considerable flow in the river. From my own experience, I feel sure that the best time to see these falls is after the great floods have subsided, as the water then is clear, or nearly so, and the effects, as in the case of the Gairsoppa Falls, are far more varied and brilliant. There is one point I would here particularly impress on the traveller, and that is, that when visiting falls such as those of Gairsoppa and the Cauvery, which present a great variety of scenic effects, and are not merely monotonous single masses of water, he should devote at least two clear days to them, i.e., he should arrive on one day, remain two days, and leave on the fourth day. He should also select a time when there is a sufficiency of moonlight. I was particularly impressed with the first point, because I most thoroughly enjoyed my visit to Gairsoppa as I had two clear days there, whereas my visit to the Cauvery Falls was attended with that sense of hurry which, if not destructive of all enjoyment, leaves behind on the mind a feeling that many points in the scenes must have been either missed or quite inadequately observed. The account of my visit to these falls, however, may at least be useful in showing a traveller short of time how to visit them with the least possible expenditure of it.

I left Bangalore, then, on the morning of Thursday, September 24th, 1891, by the 8.20 a.m. train, for the Mudoor Railway Station, on the lino to Mysore city, and arrived there shortly after midday. I then had luncheon at the station, and left for the Malvalli Travellers' Bungalow at a little before three, in a carriage I had sent on from Bangalore with two pairs of horses (it is advisable to have an extra pair posted), and arrived at my destination shortly after five. To this bungalow, which is about fourteen miles from the falls, I had previously sent on with my native servants bedding and mosquito curtains, and the means necessary to prepare meals for the party. Reports had reached us of creeping things being abroad in this bungalow, and my servant had been particularly enjoined to look out for, and, as far as possible, guard against them. This he had done by putting the bedsteads in the sun and doing what further he could. But notwithstanding his assurances of safety, one of the ladies of the party insisted that, from all she had heard, there must be creeping things somewhere about. The servant listened with an air of respectful attention to all she had to say, and, when she had quite done, said with quiet persistence, and much to our amusement, "What Missus says is true, but there are no bugs," and I am glad to say that he was justified in making the assertion. We rose very early the following morning, started at 4.20, at 6.20 arrived at the bungalow near the falls, and, after a little delay to get a cup of tea, drove at once to the nearest fall. But I must here pause for a few moments to describe the general situation of the river, the islands formed by its splitting into two distinct branches, and the position of the fall—a total situation which is not easily comprehended without the aid of a map.

The Cauvery Falls are on the river of that name, which rises in Coorg, and, after a run of 646 miles to the south-east, falls into the Bay of Bengal about midway between Madras and Cape Comorin. Before reaching Seringapatam (which is on an island in the river) it is joined by the Hemavati which rises to the north of Manjarabad and, as we have seen, skirts the eastern border of that talook, or county. As the Hemavati sends down a large body of water the source of which is more distant from the sea than the spot in Coorg which is called the head of the Cauvery, I may remark in passing that it is singular that the latter should have been regarded as the source of this fine river, which really rises in Mysore. But, rise where it may, it at last arrives at a point on the southern frontier of Mysore where the bed of the Cauvery splits into two channels and forms the island of Hegora, which is about three miles long, and from a quarter of a mile to a mile wide, and, by a rather curious, coincidence, almost exactly the size of the island on which the fortress of Seringapatam has been built. The northern branch of the river washes the Mysore frontier and this, after about two miles, again divides, or rather a small branch diverges to the north and, forming a loop, cuts away from the mainland the island of Ettikoor, and there falls into the northern branch of the river by various cascades, and just below the point where the falls on the main northern branch occur. This group of falls is called Gangana Chuckee.

The southern branch of the river on the Madras side flows as a single stream for about half a mile, and then splits off some of its water into various channels, but forming nothing worthy of the name of an island till it severs from the mainland the island of Hegora, a strip of land about two furlongs at the widest, and less than a mile in length. To the south of this the main body of the water goes to form lower down the fine series of cascades and falls called the Bar Chuckee, while a comparatively small body of water goes to the left to form the pretty series of cascades and steep runnels of water which fall, though at a different point of the compass from the main falls, into the wide pool at the foot of the Bar Chuckee Falls. After this necessary digression I now proceed to narrate what I saw and did.

I drove, then, after a short delay at the bungalow, to the Gangana Chuckee Falls, passing on the way the temple of Sivasamudrum, and various buildings connected with it, and leaving the carriage, walked down towards the falls, passing on the right Pir's Tomb, the grave of a Mahometan priest of that name, and went to a point just below it, from which a fine general view of these falls and the river can be obtained. Glancing upwards, the view of the river, as the waters race down their steep stony bed towards the falls amidst numerous projecting rocks, is extremely grand and picturesque. Then at a point just below the spot I was standing on, the water plunged down a nearly precipitous descent, from which it apparently (for the spray prevented one seeing exactly) fell perpendicularly into the pool below, sending up as it did so gossamer veils of spray full of fleeting, faint, and ever varying iris hues. This pool is flanked, and probably about 100 yards below the foot of the previously mentioned fall, on the northern side by a precipice about 250 feet high, down which, in four separate cascades, falls the water of the branch of the river which cuts off the small island of Ettikoor. On the side of the precipice next to the great fall of the main river stands a piece of tree-clad rocky ground, apparently about 50 feet higher than the precipice, and this is flanked by a rapid at the top, passing into a cascade lower down, which then held but little water, but which in floods must add much to the beauty of the scene. After viewing the scene for sometime, I returned to the carriage, and drove across the island to visit the Bar Chuckee Falls, and left the carriage at a point where the road begins to descend into the valley into which the southern branch of the river precipitates itself. I then advanced to a point on the right of the road from which a fine general view can be obtained, though it is rather too distant as regards the main body of the falls, and, as I reached the point in question, came suddenly into view of such a number of separate falls and cascades that a description of them is extremely difficult. For, on the opposite side of the valley, I counted no less than thirteen, which leap partly over one side of a horseshoe shaped precipice which had evidently, from the huge boulders in the channel below, been eaten back into the side of the precipice, and partly shoot out through various hidden channels which the waters have deeply cut through a huge semicircular platform of rock which overhangs the valley below. As they thus shoot out the effect is extremely striking and picturesque, and their resemblance to the spokes of light from a star no doubt caused the natives to give the very appropriate name of Chuckee (pronounced Chickee—Kanarese for star) to these beautiful falls. This semicircular platform of rock stands on one side of the river-bed, next to this we have the horseshoe-shaped precipice I have mentioned, and next to that again, as it were by way of quietly beautiful contrast, there is a vast sheet of steeply sloping rock, which is completely covered by a thin coating of white, and everywhere foaming water. When the river is at the full this fine series of falls and cascades vanishes, and is replaced, as in the case of the falls at Gairsoppa, by one great fall about half a mile wide.

After looking at this beautiful scene, the eye wanders next over some jungle-clad slopes on the western side of the main falls, to dwell on a series of cascades and racing waters which descend through channels flanked on either side by scrubby plants and trees—a series which arises from a branch which diverges about a mile higher up the river, and the cascades and runnels of water of which are scattered round precipitous slopes right up to, and immediately below, the point on which I was standing. All the falls and cascades unite in a pool below of great width, from which the water escapes through a narrow gorge, to join, further down, the river branch on which are the Gangana Chuckee Falls. The general effect here appears to be that you are looking at falls and cascades proceeding from two different rivers, the one flowing from the south and the other from the west, and the effect is the same at the first described falls. The general height of all the falls is said to be from 200 to 250 feet, and in Mr. Bowring's "Eastern Experiences" 300 feet, but I can find no account, and could hear of no particulars, as to when or how measurements were taken, as in the case of the falls at Gairsoppa, which were carefully surveyed by officers of the Indian Navy. I was particularly struck with the absence of bird life at these falls, and only saw two small birds, and one hawk, and a small flight of what in the distance appeared to be pigeons, which alit on a rock at the foot of one of the falls.

It is impossible to refrain from contrasting these falls with those at Gairsoppa. The Cauvery Falls have indeed much beauty and grandeur in river, and varied waterfall scenery, and had I not seen the Gairsoppa Falls I should have thought that it would have been difficult to find anywhere in the world scenes more varied and beautiful. But the beauties of the falls of Cauvery are set in comparatively speaking sterile surroundings of rock and scrubby jungle, trees and shrubs scattered over ground partly undulating, and partly over hills of moderate height and uninteresting form. Then the grandeur arising from their great height, and the charms of the varied sounds of the falls of Gairsoppa, and the marvellously beautiful effects of graceful bird life wheeling and darting amidst the iris hues of the falls, and the setting of the whole scene amidst the tropical wealth of the evergreen forest of the Western Ghauts, afford combinations which far exceed those of the Cauvery Falls. I have no hesitation in saying, as a traveller to the falls of Gairsoppa has said before, that they alone would repay one for all the trouble of the voyage to India. But, beautiful and grand as they undoubtedly are, I cannot quite say the same of the Cauvery falls, though I can with confidence say that if the traveller leaves India without seeing them he will certainly have missed one of the scenes best worth seeing in it.

After spending some time at the Bar Chuckee Falls I then drove back to the bungalow and, leaving the carriage there, walked rather more than half a mile to the bridge which connects the island with the Madras side of the river, and which I closely examined, as it is a most curious and interesting specimen of the work of native engineers, and as it has withstood the floods of about seventy years, one of which passed over the roadway of the bridge to a depth of three feet, is most highly creditable to native workmanship. A similar bridge connects the island with the Mysore side of the river, and both bridges were repaired at his own cost by a native in the employ of the Mysore Government, who in recognition of this important work, received from the British Government, for himself and his heirs (who are bound to keep up the bridges) land yielding an annual revenue of £800, and of £900 from the Mysore Government.

The bridge I now proceeded to examine. It is built entirely of stone without any mortar or cement, and is supported on two rows of single block stone pillars standing on slabs of stone placed on the river bed. Those pillars are about nine feet high and eight feet apart. On the top of each pillar is first of all a thick block of stone projecting about eighteen inches from the pillar on its upper and lower sides. Then on this was a rather thicker block of stone, and on the top of all cross beams of solid single stones had been laid, and from one cross beam to another were solid and closely put together slabs of stones, some of which were eighteen inches wide, and some rather wider, thus making a roadway above so narrow that two carriages cannot pass each other. In order to strengthen the pillars and keep them in position, a flat slab of stone had been laid on the bed of the river, from the base of the lower pillar to within about two feet of the upper one, and between the end of this slab and the pillar a thick, high block of stone had been wedged. In this bridge there were 109 pairs of pillars, giving a total length of about 1,000 feet. I was struck with the difference in the age of the pillars, and with the fact that, whereas some were plain, roughly hewn pillars, others, which had been dressed and chiselled into various forms, were evidently of great antiquity, and I was subsequently informed by the clerk of the proprietor of the island that the latter had been procured from ruined temples in the neighbourhood. These bridges at first sight seem to be curved in a slight loop up the stream, but a closer examination shows that they have been built in several lines, first slightly up the stream and then advancing by several straight lines to a blunt arrow-like point in the centre of the river, and this was evidently to enable the bridges the better to resist the heavy floods, one of which, as I have previously mentioned, went no less than three feet over the roadway. As you stand on the edge of the river and look along the centre of the rows of pillars the effect is very curious, as they then present the appearance of a long colonnade of pillars of various shapes, with a flat roof of solid slabs of stone overhead.

After thoroughly inspecting the bridge, I lay for some time in the shade of a tree which stood on the bank of the river about fifty yards below the bridge, and awaited the arrival of the carriage, which I had sent for as the day was getting hot, and as I thus lay languidly observing the long colonnade, and the water which rapidly flowed between the pillars, and looked up the river as it stretched away to the north-west, and enjoyed the cool air which gently moved along the water, I felt a quiet sense of enjoyment which gave me a greater, and certainly a more lasting, sense of pleasure than I had experienced when visiting the beautiful falls I have just endeavoured to describe. I mention this for the moral, which is, that to enjoy scenery the body must be comfortable and in complete repose. I would also add that you must be alone, or practically alone, by being out of sight or hearing of your companions. Presently I was aroused by the rumble of the carriage, and, collecting my party, returned to the bungalow for luncheon. At about half past four the carriage was brought round, and we drove to our temporary home to dinner, and on the following day reached Bangalore at two o'clock, the whole trip having thus occupied about sixty hours.

[4] No less than 291.53 inches fell this year, between April and the last day of September, at a Cardamom plantation on the crests of the Ghauts.

[5] After the fall of Seringapatam some further military operations were necessary in Manjarabad, and some of Colonel Wellesley's letters were written within a few miles of my bungalow.

[6] So called from its flowing from a source which was supposed to have been formed by a stroke of Rama's arrow.

[7] All travellers are obliged to record their names in these books, and state the time they have stayed, and the sums they have paid for the use of the bungalow.

[8] "Gazetteer of the Bombay Presidency," vol. xv. Kanara, Bombay. Printed at the Government Central Press, 1883.

[9] The native idea.

[10] "Eastern Experiences," by L. Bowring, C.S.I.; Henry S. King and Co., London, 1871. Before visiting Mysore the traveller should certainly buy or consult this book.