Helicopter to Siaha

 Until today I'd been in helicopters three times. First time was being pulled out of the sea by the Coastguard (thank you so much!). Second was a trip to Aberdeen Royal Infirmary (thanks again). Both of those I was expected to be lying down so not nearly so much fun as the third time in India ten years ago. Today's planned trip to Siaha in the south of Mizoram has been exciting me since we first pondered booking it months ago.

We've checked out of Aizawl's Hotel Lazzo (but left our big bag there as the limit for the helicopter is much lower than most airlines) and took a taxi to the heliport. The steepest road in the world was once supposed to be in Harlech and I've ascended and descended that many times; I think the short cut we took to Mualpui Heliport is steeper, and certainly busier mostly with youngsters on scooters heading for school.

At the terminal (slightly larger than Sanday and with a helicopter-sized hangar) we were welcomed effusively and even offered the use of the staff toilet ("European"). The first flight of the day was more local, then came our turn. Loading was quick and loud - passengers off, get us on, off we went.

First stop was the Airport for refuelling. A few photos of Aizawl including our hotel roof and the new railway terminal and line under construction - an utterly immense project which makes HS2 look like a prom tram. 

When we arrived in Aizawl a couple of weeks ago we'd noticed the plane off the runway and assumed it had been an accident. The reality was that it was due to carry migrants from Myanmar back but a group of Mizos stormed the airport and pushed the plane into the rough. An example of tension between the Hindu Nationalism of the government and local tribal Christian majority. 

The copilot (who seemed to be training the pilot) chatted with us, paperwork completed, preflight checks done and we set off south for Siaha. 

Just stunning. We followed the main road which we'd driven to Thenzawl; so much of the landscape which had been hidden by foliage opened up and we truly understand why the road had to meander as it does. As we continued south the river became much more pronounced. The copilot kept feeding us information and we were kept busy between his input, cameras and map. We must have taken nearly a hundred photos between us, and none capture a semblance of the scale of the landscape. 

Although we'd booked a hotel an Aizawl friend had cancelled that and booked us into the Tourist Lodge. He'd also arranged for his nephew, Dixon, to meet us at the Helipad.

The Lodge feels old - and so it is. Many decades ago the Indian government decided to construct a network of Lodges all across the country. In some cases they'd been in place since colonial times. Being government run they tend to be lacking in investment but not short staffed, so in this case we have ancient building, plumbing, fittings, bed etc. with peeling paint, but immaculately clean and mosquito netted beds. Our room would be a suite anywhere else in size, but old furniture and no wifi.

We may be the only folk here, and the kitchen didn't seem keen to do lunch so Dixon took us to a café in town. 

If we felt oddities in Aizawl, that's emphasised greatly here. Much quieter, more smiles, far more "Hello. Where are you from?" and an awful lot of photos of us with all sorts of people. 

Lunch was great. Very tasty noodle and rice dishes. And a photo. 

As we walked through the town chats were frequent. As one chat was ending with a "Ask me for anything" I asked where I would find a barber. In a few minutes we were in his house and he took his clippers to my hair! 

Back at the lodge we saw the sun set.

 Dixon was emphatic he'd see us tomorrow and take us out for a drive. The highlighted tourist spots seem to be several hours drive away, but there's incredible landscape right to hand.