A slow train of 58-tunnel through the eastern ghats of India

Take a slow four -hour train through Eastern Ghâts to find out how a remote mountain station changes the world coffee game.

Even in December, the early mornings are rarely pleasant on a large part of the Indian coast of Andhra Pradesh. The air is already aggressive at 6:30 am as a tireless Mumpy Mills on the platform five at Visakhapatnam station (Vizag). However, these potential passengers are not ordinary commuters, but travelers gathered for an experience. When Visakhapatnam Kirandul Special Passenger Roll on the platform, the relief of the crowd is palpable; The two Vistadoma coaches at the back of the train they were looking forward to getting on board are air -conditioned.

The Indians have only one knowledge of the head with the concept of queues, so a crazy race follows while the train stops. Things settle in the way out of the station and gradually speed up the speed. The Visakhapatnam Kirandul Passenger Special also serves as a regular suburban service towards the city of Kirandul in the state of the chhattisgarh, about 400 km to the northwest, and takes about 14 hours to travel the distance. But those of the Vistadome coaches are only interested in the first stage, at the Araku valley. This serene mountain station is about 120 km but takes four hours while the train winds through 58 tunnels cut through the oriental ghâts. The two Vistadoma coaches – with their extra -large windows and their rotating seats – are designed to offer a panoramic view of the summits and valleys of the region and its soft wooded slopes which end with rivers and rushed streams, gorges and rocky promontories.

While the train passes in front of the neighborhoods and the suburbs of Vizag, it provides snapshots from a city awakening: a vegetable seller carrying his cart, a dog walker pulled by his dog, two children in the eyes with the lancan eyes hang on their father on a scooter at school. While the city takes place in large agricultural fields and lands, the images change: smoke curlves lazily in the sky of a house of lonely thatched in the middle of a farm, a farmer diligent his oxen, a tractor transports vegetables to the neighboring market. The rhythmic click of the train wheels is familiar and soporific.

Less than 30 minutes after leaving Vizag, the train slows down considerably and begins to get into the foothills of the Eastern Ghâts. As on the signal, most seats of the coach sway to face the windows. The train climbs, the plains fall and even the sporadic dwellings clinging to the peaks disappear. The hills and the mountains in the distance appear in blue-gray in the soft morning sun. But even before this panorama could register, the complete darkness descends while the train enters the first tunnel of the route. I am surprised by the sounds of adults and screaming children, of course, for the few minutes we need to go out on the other side.

When we emerge in daylight, the view is breathtaking: a series of mounds and soft valleys, thick, extending to the horizon where a mountain chain wearing a mist is only a suspicion of the peaks to come to come. While I try to resume as much stage as possible, the darkness goes down again, and with it, no more cries.

On the other side is another surreal and dramatic view: tracks folded around a hill, a green wall tilted directly on one side and a fall on the other. The train slowly turns forward, tightening the inner curve. The rear position of the Vistadomes means that the entire length of the train is visible, curling against the hill as if it is picked up on the edge. It then takes place and wraps on the other side, moving on a bridge built on a stream which slowly flows several meters below. The bridge has no continuous railings, therefore, for a while, it feels like the train is suspended in the air. But soon, the feeling is interrupted by darkness and more cries, and another breathtaking view on the other side.

This sequence is repeated again and again and yet it never becomes predictable or boring. Each of the 58 tunnels of the route establishes the anticipation of what could go to the other side. Thick fog curtains cling to mountain towers or low -support clouds cooking the peaks; The meadows and rolling forests spread like someone had shaken a giant green blanket and had placed it; valleys and deep throats surrounded by wavy peaks; and ephemeral glimpses of hamlets and housing perched in a precarious manner on the hills.

We stop every few minutes to drop and pick up the shuttles in stations with musical sounds that could be Tongtes to those who are not familiar: Penverthi, Kottavalasa, Chimidipalli, Borraguhallu, Karakavalasa. In Shimiliguda, the station proudly brings its altitude to its round: 996m above sea level. Throughout the trip, there is also a continuous parade of food sellers, delicious floating aromas of their baskets when they sell Idli-Vada-Chutney (A current breakfast of steamed rice cake with coconut chutney), samosa, salted swollen rice and boiled peanuts.

When the train finally takes place in the city of Araku, the station is crowded and noisy and the magic of the trip dissipates somewhat. But early the next morning, the appeal of Araku is displayed. A short walk leads to the forests and the hanging coffee plantations of large silver oaks, their trunks wrapped in pepper vines. Everything is covered with thick fog and the air is Nippy, far from the vizag megotherapist. The air is sappy and thick with terpenes. I grab low puffs of coffee and pepper.

Coffee came to Araku with the British and was cultivated in scattered plantation plots. Like the other regions of coffee culture in India, Araku was an ideal place due to its soil, altitude and time combination. After the independence of British domination in 1857, the land went into the hands of the local government, but from decades of underdevelopment and sporadic insurrection prevented the region with most investment cards. It started to change in the early 2000s.

“The local community wanted progress,” said Manoj Kumar, CEO of the Naandi Foundation, a non -profit organization that works with farmers through community initiatives and sustainable models. “So we looked around and think that coffee was already growing in pockets, it could be widened.”

By working with local farmers, the organization began to establish micro-works of Arabica coffee using regenerative agriculture. This started at around 1,000 acres in 2002 is currently at 100,000 acres cultivated by more than 90,000 families, which each have about one acre on average. In addition to coffee, farmers have been encouraged in several crops and produce pepper, red beans, ginger, turmeric, millet, rice, vegetables, fruits such as chikoo (Sapodilla), mango, cream apple and avocado. The result: a unique equitable coffee model called Arakunomicswhich won the Rockefeller Foundation Food system Vision 2050 price in 2020.

But the foundation did not stop there. In a first for Indian coffee, they have “mapped” the grains – borrow a concept from vinification – and classified the final product in six separate flavors under the Araku brand. Selective harvesting, sustainable practices and post-harvest meticulous processes have helped grains to regularly mark 91/100 on specialized coffee rankings.

“We cultivate around 2,000 metric tonnes of coffee, 98% of which come from specialized coffee promoters around the world,” explains Kumar.

Travelers can explore this story in various coffee holdings in the region, but Priya Rajagopal, passionate about coffee and former technology project manager, recommends the Sunkarametta coffee plantationAbout 13 km south-east of Araku, where a wooden bridge flows over a few hundred meters through planting, suspended above coffee plants and flanked by imposing silver oaks. “When I went, it was the flowering season (March to May) and the plants were full of white flowers,” she said. “The air is filled with a sweet smell of jasmine.”

At a short distance, the modest but informative Araku Coffee Museum Offers a start on the trip from one seed to another. The small adjacent coffee serves a robust – earthy, rich and perfect filter infusion for a cold morning in the hills.

A few days after the train trip, back in Bengaluru, I head to the Araku coffee only in India (most of their production is exported, sold in stores or available online), which is hidden in the avenues lined with trees in the Indiranagar district of the city. I am torn between the different options, but opt ​​for their average signature roast. It is beautifully rich in red brown and completely softened on the tongue. Most importantly, a subtle pepper -end note immediately transports me to the winding tracks covered with Araku mist, the forests and lush green plantations – and the slow and moving train route that led me.