Monsoon trek story: leeches, a swollen stream, and the best chai of my life

Amma doesn't like it when I say this, but my repeater year had days when I thought the walls were closing in. Same room, same desk, same notes. Studying wasn't the problem. It was that nothing else in my life moved.

So when my cousin said, "we are going for a monsoon trek, come with us," I said yes before I could say no. Amma agreed because there would be a local guide and my two cousins, both older, and because she packed enough food for twelve people.

Before we went

Quick note because I want this to be useful: a monsoon trek is not a casual walk. The Ghats get heavy rain, paths turn to slippery mud, streams rise fast, and leeches wake up. We went with an experienced local guide who knew the route, not just a map. Please don't go alone, and please check the weather and local rules first. Some forest areas are closed during heavy rain.

We left Mangaluru early in the morning, drove for a couple of hours with the windows half down and the smell of wet earth coming in, and started walking from a small village where tea shops had plastic sheets over everything.

What I wore and carried

Thing	Why
Shoes with a good grip	Mud is slippery, wet rocks are worse
Full-length trousers, socks pulled over the trouser ends	Leeches climb up, this blocks the way
Light rain jacket or poncho	Umbrellas are useless on a trail
Dry clothes in a plastic bag inside the bag	Wet clothes are fine, wet bags are not
Water, snacks, salt packets or lemon	The humidity makes you sweat more than you notice
A small first-aid kit	Plasters, antiseptic, whatever you personally need
Power bank, phone in a zip bag	No network for most of the day

The walk

The first hour I was only breathing hard and thinking, "why did I say yes." By the second hour I forgot about everything else. The forest in the rains is loud, but not with people. The whole place hums: frogs, insects, dripping leaves, water everywhere. Everything is green in a way photos can't do. Moss on the rocks, tiny mushrooms on fallen trees, ferns bigger than me.

We crossed small streams, jumping from stone to stone, with my cousin holding my hand on the slippery ones. We passed a tiny waterfall that looked like someone had poured milk down the hill. We stopped there for a snack and everyone was silent for about a minute, which never happens with this family.

The leeches

Let me be honest, I screamed. The first one was on my sock and I thought it was a twig. Then another, then a third near my ankle. They look like thin little brown threads that stretch and reach for you.

Here's what our guide taught us, which I wish I'd known earlier:

• Don't panic and don't yank them. Pulling hard can leave the mouth part stuck in the skin.
• Slide a fingernail under the small end and flick it sideways, or sprinkle a little salt and it will let go.
• Wash the spot with clean water and use antiseptic. The bite bleeds for longer than a normal scratch because the leech's saliva stops blood from clotting. It looks scary but it's usually harmless. If it won't stop bleeding or looks infected later, see a doctor.
• Check your legs and shoes at every stop.

By the end, I had four bites and I was proud of every one. I told this story in the car three times.

The stream

Around the middle of the trek we reached a stream we had crossed in the morning. It had changed. In three hours the water had risen and become brown and fast. It wasn't deep but it was loud, and I could see it carrying leaves and small branches along.

The guide looked at it for a long time. Then he said we were not crossing. We were going to wait, and if it didn't go down, we'd take the longer route around. Nobody argued. Honestly, it was a relief. I think I learned something there that no coaching class had taught me: sometimes the brave thing is turning back. He said streams can rise even when it isn't raining where you are, because it's raining uphill.

We waited about forty minutes, ate our sandwiches under a tree, and then took the longer route around. We got back an hour later than planned, wet to the knees and very happy.

The chai

The tea stall in the village had a tin roof, one stove, and an uncle who didn't ask us what we wanted. He just handed each of us a glass of hot, sweet, too-gingery chai and a plate of crisp pakoras straight out of the oil. I swear I have never tasted anything better. My hands were shaking from cold, my hair was dripping, and there was mud up to my elbows. For ten minutes I didn't think about marks, ranks or the fact that I was a year behind my classmates.

What I brought back

I came back tired in the best way. I slept like a stone. The next day I sat down at my desk and I could actually focus, because my head wasn't a closed room any more.

I don't think trekking is a magic cure for exam stress. It isn't. But it reminded me that the world is bigger than a mock test. And it gave me a story I can tell when someone asks, "so what did you do in your drop year?" I walked through a wet forest and got bitten by leeches and drank the best chai of my life. And I studied too, but that's not the interesting part.

Next time I want to go in post-monsoon, when the waterfalls are still full but the leeches are gone. Anyone who has done that, I'll take tips!