A dignified retreat

All motor vehicles are banned in Matheran (as are plastic bags, encouragingly). But that doesn't mean that the incessant pestering of the taxi-wallahs you get elsewhere is absent... "Yes sir, you want horse? Nice horse. Track long way. You have horse. Hundred rupees, very good price". They still don't take no for an answer.

The British built up the hill-stations as a pleasant retreat from the noise, dust, heat and 'distinctive aromas' of the cities: and while the most famous are in the Himalayas, it seems that every big city has its own middle-class bolthole. The Mumbai middle-classes head to Matheran, and while it's pleasant enough, it's still pretty hot and still quite definitely India. The clay-coloured tracks lead to handsome views over the plains below, but the woodland is nothing special: it bizarrely reminds me of Cannock Chase, only with monkeys, and without the dogging.

I did meet a couple of small snakes: not being an expert on snakes, I wasn't sure whether they were of the harmless British variety or the instantly fatal type you see in old movies. I looked at them, they looked at me, we all decided to avoid each other. Best decision all round, I think.