Stranger in Top Slip (2011)

Joel Sherjin

My First Sojourn into the Wilderness of the Western Ghats

In 2011, shortly after joining Beroe Consulting in Chennai, I fulfilled a long-cherished dream—I bought my first DSLR, the Nikon D90. To this day, that camera remains one of my most treasured possessions. It’s been a loyal companion through erratic weather, rough terrain, and more than a few moments of human clumsiness—and it still clicks like a champ!

Growing up in a small town with only Doordarshan for company, my exposure to wildlife was limited to grainy documentaries and Sunday specials. Yet, my fascination with nature and the mysterious allure of the Western Ghats had always burned quietly within me. So, with a new camera in hand and a curious heart, I planned my first trip to the Western Ghats—Top Slip.

That journey became a turning point in my life.

The Journey Begins

The plan was simple—take a bus to Pollachi, book a stay at Top Slip, and see what the wilderness had in store. Simplicity, of course, came with its own price: unable to afford a hotel room for the night, I spent it waiting at the Pollachi bus stand, hopping between buses and snoozing under flickering tube lights. By dawn, I had managed to catch the elusive early morning bus to Top Slip.

At Top Slip, I stayed for two days. I couldn’t afford the ₹500 trek or the ₹400 safari—both too extravagant for me at the time. With no formal activities planned, I did what any curious traveler would: I wandered, I observed, and I listened.

My First “Nat Geo” Moment

It was during one of those golden-hour wanderings that it happened—a herd of deer emerged, gliding through the forest in the amber light. The sight of so many deer moving together, shimmering in the evening sun, was nothing short of cinematic. It felt like I had stepped into a live National Geographic film.

I spent the evening talking to every villager I could find, eager to soak in their stories. Tales of tiger encounters abounded—some said the big cats made a sound like sand being thrown into the air; others claimed tiger stretches echoed like firecrackers. Exaggerated? Certainly. Entertaining? Absolutely. With little else to do, those conversations became the highlight of my stay.

The Night That Lasted Forever

As darkness fell, the atmosphere shifted. Rumors of nearby elephant movement spread through the camp. A forest guard advised me firmly not to step outside under any circumstances—“They’ll likely come your way tonight,” he said, casually. He, on the other hand, was preparing to walk back to his village—on foot, without a flashlight—relying solely on the sound of dry teak leaves underfoot to avoid a fatal encounter. His calmness left me speechless.

That night was surreal. My heart pounded as something large walked across the fragile asbestos roof of my room. Bison brushed against the walls, likely just trying to scratch themselves, but from inside, it felt like the walls were being ripped apart by elephants. I prayed harder than I had in years, willing the night to pass and daylight to return.

The Morning After

When the sun finally rose, I packed up, caught a government bus back to Pollachi, and made my way to Chennai. The trip didn’t offer grand wildlife sightings or luxurious experiences. But it offered something far more lasting—an awakening. That first encounter with the Western Ghats ignited a lifelong passion. It showed me how little I knew and how much there was to learn.

As I write this in 2017, I’ve returned to the Western Ghats countless times. Perhaps, with lot more comfort and hospitality from several wildlife friends. Each visit peels back another layer of its complexity, its beauty, and its wild unpredictability. I owe every lesson, every sighting, and every awe-filled moment to that first trip.