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(An account by Dan Inman who has joined the heels on
fire team in Kerala for a couple of weeks)
Picture the scene: a spacious hotel room with twin beds,
a television in the corner, a fan furiously spinning on
the ceiling seemingly ready to detach itself and commit
GBH, an air conditioning unit going nine to the dozen on
the outer wall, an eclectic collection of running
equipment strewn over the room, and me, sitting on my
bed in a pair of shorts with the tube from my hydration
pack stuck in my mouth like a drip. And it's nearly 7
o'clock in the evening! I'm not setting the scene in
search of sympathy; I do it because this is the reality
of life in pre-monsoon Kerala. According to some of the
local people I have encountered already, it's not even
hot yet! It may not be hot in terms of actual degrees
Celsius, but someone has definitely stolen the wind
leaving just an oppressive, almost eerie stillness. It’s
humidity maximised and it's the conditions in which
everyday life continues to rumble on, and in most cases
without such luxuries as an air conditioning unit.
This may account for many of the bewildered looks that
are a memory of my first day of running with the heels
on fire collective. My favourite one being the
motorcyclist staring in such bemusement that his visor
snapped shut as if triggered by the thoughts coming from
within the helmet. Moments like these raise a smile and
are a welcome distraction from your increasingly heavy
legs and the cravings to drink a reservoir. Just as when
Dez stopped us to have our photo taken with a couple of
young boys and girls. Later to be informed by Dez that
the girls were the brave ones who had agreed to share
the limelight with members of the opposite sex. There is
a spirit of curiosity and fun here and I would love to
be a fly on the wall to some of the discussions after we
have dripped on by.
This was my first day of running with Pete and Rahul and
I had been looking forward to it with cautious glee.
Even the alarm call at 4.30am was bearable. This comment
will doubtless be retracted after a couple more days!
Having only flown in yesterday I was grateful for the
couple of hours of kip I had managed to grab in a
hammock before being rudely awoken by water poured over
my head. Really, where are the manners nowadays?! We
drove to Kulathur, selected a suitable starting point,
fuelled up our camel packs and headed into the unknown.
Three hours and 21 kilometres later we arrived in a now
awake and bustling Malappuram.
Personally I had no idea
it was possible to sweat so much in the wee small hours
of the morning, but it is! Along the way we were
privileged to witness a magical and mystical scene of a
mist smothered expanse of coconut trees, play a brief
game of football with some kids, and sample a locally
grown jackfruit.
It’s jackfruit season and Ismail, a sprightly 58-year
old jackfruit trader happily treated us to one of his
finest. A ripe jackfruit is massive and can weigh
anything over 4 kgs. It is harvested by carrying it down
the tall and often broad trees. It is carried down or
lowered gently with a rope as to drop it would ruin the
fruit. I'm sure there is a local age old, tried and
tested harvesting technique. However, when you look up
to a jackfruit hanging precariously off the tree it
doesn't take a genius to acknowledge that it would be
quite some feat of strength and agility. A decent
jackfruit is relatively inexpensive to a Keralite where
they can be found in abundance, but apparently if you
head out of Kerala you could be in for a price shock.
I absolutely enjoyed my first day with the heels on fire
brigade. After really having to push out the last couple
of kilometres I am under no illusions about the
magnitude of this physical challenge. The heat and
humidity do things to your body, unpredictable things,
even a reversal of what I was expecting. I also can't
wait to get deeper into Kerala life and already know
that there is a treat in store for tomorrow ( and it's
not the 5am start!)
Dan
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