We're up bright and early this morning for another train day. First, we catch the 7.10am Deccan Express as far as Neral, a journey of 1 1/2 hours. There we change to the 2ft gauge Matheran Railway where we have chartered our own steam-hauled train.

Unfortunately, the monsoon rains in 2005 caused considerable damage to the Matheran Railway, and it's still under repair. Consequently our train can't get us all the way to the top, so we settle for a ride to the first station and back, which is still a reasonable distance. Of course, being train spotters, we want to have a look round the depot, which we do before we depart. The train is hauled by a B class 0-4-0 saddle tank engine, the same type as are used on the Darjeeling line. This one seems in much better condition though.

With two carriages and a brake van in the train we set off up the line, and as soon as we get to the steeper sections we're setting fire to the countryside due to sparks from the loco. No-one seems particularly bothered though. There are large black areas around the railway so it's obviously a regular occurrence. We arrange for a number of photographic run pasts, where we jump off and the train comes past us for photographs, then stops so we can get back on. There are a total of 9 staff on the train; 5 on the loco and 4 manning the carriages. In addition, there seem to be a number of extra staff who've turned up out of interest. As a result, each time we stop there seem to be prolonged discussions, even arguments, among the crew as to what should happen next. Everything seems to take forever to happen! Eventually we reach Jumapatti station which is as far as we can go, so we take lots of group photos then rumble back down the hill again. Many of the fires we started on the way up are still burning!

Although the train couldn't get us there, we'd still like to visit Matheran. At 803m it's one of the lower hill stations, but is interesting because there is a complete ban on motor vehicles there. In fact there is no tarmac at all, all the roads being just red earth and stones. We divide ourselves up into taxi loads of 4 or 5.These taxis look as though they have been retired from service in Mumbai because they are unsafe, so, a little nervous we hold tight and hang on. The road is extremely steep in places, as steep as a typical Wellington driveway says Sarah. In fact we can't think of any main road we know which is so steep. Half way up there's a burning smell, and Sarah notices that her shoes are melting to the floor. It's so hot you can't touch it. This is due to the exhaust pipe being holed in several places, as evidenced by the noise from beneath the car.

Eventually we arrive at the road limit, unstick Sarah's shoes from the footwell, and set off to walk into Matheran. It turns out to be a 2.5 km uphill walk - longer than many had bargained for. As we walk along we're passed by groups of pack horses which are used to carry goods into the town. Large hand carts are also used for goods and, depending on the weight of the load, can have up to 8 men pulling and pushing them along, to the accompaniment of much grunting and groaning. We see one set of carts with what looks like the complete contents of a house! Eventually, hot and sweaty, we arrive in Matheran centre. There's really only one main street, with lots of paths leading off it, many to lookouts with, apparently, sheer drops to the plains below.

We buy a small guide book. Here is a short exerpt, reproduced exactly:

"The only way to Matheran is via Neral. Neral is near the Karjat Phata which is on the mumbai Pune highway. If you wish to come by train. you can either come from Mumbai. From Mumbai, all Local train for karjat or Khopoli will leave you Neral and from Pune can come to karjat where you will get Local trains for Mumbai which will drop you Neral, From neral 8km, Far road is available which connects Matheran to the world."

There are plenty of small restaurants along the main road so we find a suitable one for a snack and rest our legs. The lack of traffic noise, which is omnipresent throughout the rest of Indian, is very welcome. We can't hang around though because we've got to walk back to the taxi rank and get a taxi back down the hill in time to catch the 3.58 suburban train back to Mumbai. So we take a quick look around the railway station, currently out of use of course, (for anyone interested, it includes a balloon loop for turning complete trains) then head back down the track. On the way we're passed by two handcarts, each with a comfortable arm-chair type seat and pulled/pushed by two men, grunting, running and sweating. Each handcart carries a rather overweight middle-aged man, who we think should really be walking himself!

As is normal in these situations, the walk back seems to take less time than the walk out, as indeed does the taxi ride back down the hill. We have a different taxi, this time looking even more battered than the first, and we just hope that the brakes work adequately. They do, and we arrive safely back at Neral station to buy our 1st Class tickets for the train back to Mumbai.

On Indian suburban trains, 1st Class compartments are only marginally more comfortable than 2nd Class, with upholstered steats rather than wooden slat seats. However the main advantage is that they're less crowded. The weather now is very hot, and we enjoy the breeze that comes from the doors which on these trains are permenantly wide open. We also enjoy standing in the open doorways watching the world go by.

Fuzz has previously warned us to stand back from the doorways when the train arrives at Victoria Terminus because hundreds of commuters waiting to take the outgoing service will leap onto the train as it pulls in, and no quarter is given. Indeed, this proves to be the case, and despite this being a 1st Class compartment dozens of people come flying through the doorway in a frenzy to get a seat as the train is only half-way into the station. By the time it's actually stopped the compartment is packed. We can't imagine what it must be like in 2nd Class! We push the crowd back and fight our way off the train.

A ten-minute walk back through rush-hour Mumbai takes us to our hotel. This time it's not the anniversary of anyone's assassination, so the bar is open and it's the first place we head for after a shower. Our feet are red with dust from Matheran, but nothing that can't be removed with a scrubbing brush and liberal application of neat bleach in our haste to get to the bar.

In the evening a group of us head out to a nearby restaurant for what turns out to be an excellent Indian meal washed down with cold Kingfisher beer. A fitting end to a long and enjoyable day.