Gudalur is the sort of place you pass through without noticing until you need it. It is a busy market town on the western edge of the Nilgiris, in Tamil Nadu, where roads from Mysuru, Ooty and the Kerala coast meet at a crowded junction of buses, jeeps and tea lorries. The surrounding hills are covered in plantations: tea on the slopes, coffee and pepper in the shade, with cardamom and rubber lower down. The air smells of damp earth and wood smoke, and the light has a green, filtered quality, especially in monsoon season when low cloud hangs over the ridges.
The town sits at a lower altitude than Ooty, and the road to the main hill station climbs by way of Naduvattam, a long, winding ascent through tea estates and eucalyptus. This is a proper hill road, with tight bends, steep gradients and views that open suddenly where the trees part. The surface is generally good but patched, and heavy rain can leave water, mud and fallen branches across the tarmac. Trucks and buses grind uphill at walking pace on some sections, and overtaking is a game of patience and horn. Early morning mist is common and visibility can be poor, so lights on and a steady pace make sense.
Gudalur has the practical things, which is why it matters. There are petrol pumps, small restaurants serving south Indian meals on banana leaf, strong coffee and sweet tea, and plenty of places to buy water and snacks. After the forest sections of the Mysuru road, with no services and a night ban, it is a relief to come out into a town where everything is for sale. Prices are low and portions generous, and a simple plate of rice, sambar and a few vegetable curries makes a good lunch.
Culturally the area is mixed, with Tamil, Malayali and indigenous communities living side by side, and the plantation history goes back to the British, who cleared the forest for tea in the nineteenth century. Elephants still wander through the estates at night, so avoid riding in the dark, and be careful on early morning descents where animals may be crossing.
The best months are probably October to March, when the rains have eased and the air is cool. In the monsoon the road becomes slick, and leeches turn up in the wet undergrowth, though the scenery is at its most dramatic.