Haputale, Dambatenne Tea Factory

Yolanda and I left the comfort of our little Honey Bee homestay in Ella to board a train at 6.20am and travel an hour to the town of Haputale. We’d heard stories about the stunning scenery around this historic hill station and read about the walk up through Dambatenne, the huge tea factory built by Sir Thomas Lipton in 1890.

We weren’t disappointed. Although the view from our little guest house was hazy, we could see the terraced tea plantations and mountains in the near distance. The small town seems to cling to the side of the hill and felt more local and less touristy than Ella.

We headed off straight away and with the advice from the hotel owner, we caught the local bus up the steep, narrow and windy hillside. The bus was ancient and rickety, shaken ajar not only by the potholed road, but also by the biggest sound system. Local doof pounded from the big black speakers, one of which was underneath the back bench where I was seated. Exquisitely dressed ladies and young women, heading to Sunday prayers, swung their heads off their necks to check out the whitey chicks in the back seat. The boys and young men all were impressed with my hair (yup..attention seeking again!) and the conductor insisted on a photo. 

This pattern of meet and greet has been a feature of my trip and will continue for the rest of the journey. I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I think of the many family photo albums around India and Asia and now Sri Lanka, that I will staring out of and the funny questions that the families will be asked about the crazy white lady with the pink/purple hair.

Alighting at the terminus of Dambatenne Tea Factory, we headed for the hills and the zenith of Lipton’s seat where World’s End is viewed. Up, up, up we climbed for nearly 7km. Slowly and steadily stepping up through the tea pickers paths and when they weren’t accessible, the narrow switch backed road. We waved to the tea pickers and I chatted to a group of Tamil tea picking ladies who were having their tiffin break. They all wanted to feel my hair and there was lots of joking and laughter. I guessed that one of the younger ones suggested to the oldest lady in the group that she do the same. Much laughter followed and through nothing by smiles and gestures we shared a slightly wicked, but mutual humour.

It was hours later, and we still hadn’t reached the top. A car tooted and stopped and the three young guys on a day pass from the army, offered a lift to the peak. Phew! I was running out of fuel. The road narrowed as we passed through the entrance gate and there were many cars and tuk tuks shuffling and vying for a park on the edge of the road. Much to my relief, the guys ditched us as soon we parked - they were about 19yo and I’m pretty sure that from behind Yolanda and I probably appeared younger and they were polite but uncomfortable once we were in the car.
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Horton’s Plain National park spread out below Lipton’s seat and the view of World’s end, a plunging escarpment was spectacular. It’s possible that on a clear haze less day one could  see all the way to the coast.

Bizarrely, there was a little cafe at the top that served sweet delicious tea and a small assortment of freshly made pittas/chapatis and deep fried dahl patties and one other thing that looked like an overweight battered onion ring. Served with a super hot and spicy chilli sambal.

Here I learned about the food etiquette of these little cafes.

On my first road trip to the mediation centre, my driver stopped for morning tea at a bakery come cafe, come confectionery store. I was gobsmacked at the humongous plates of food that was being served to the patrons.

Large pizza sized platters were piled high with an assortment of yellow food of all shapes and sizes. It didn’t seem to matter how many people were in group they all received the same thing.

The mystery was solved at Lipton’s seat. We were’t asked what we wanted, we were just presented with platters heaped with pittas and patties. We ate what we could, the plate was whisked away and a bill presented. Taken back to the servery, the ‘pieces’ were counted and subtracted from the total that had been presented. We were only charged for what we ate. 50lkr (40cents) a piece! The leftovers, I assume were presented to the next punter. Mmmmm... not too sure about this process but it seems to work ok and I haven’t been ill from eating anyone’s leftovers.

The walk back down the mountain started at a plodding rate and we were tempted to accept an overpriced tuk tuk ride from an opportunistic driver. However, we were both too stubborn and stingy and decided to keep plodding on.

Very soon a car pulled up and the driver and his beautiful wife offered a lift back to Haputale. The couple and their two little children were holidaying from Colombo and were wonderful conversationalists and talked about their 10 years living in Sweden and their e-waste recycling business.
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Life on the road is full of surprises. I thank the universe every day for providing me with my wonderful life.