Landour, Greater Mussoorie Part 1(July 2024)

To escape the oppressive Delhi heat, I headed to Landour, a small town situated 1,000 feet above its more famous neighbor, Mussoorie:

The Jolly Grant airport, located about 25 km from the city of Dehradun, is a short flight from Delhi. The airport surprised me with its relatively large size, aerobridges and sleek interiors:

A taxi taken from the airport drove me through the beautiful Doon Valley:

Despite the cab-driver's reckless driving, it took about 2.5 hours to reach my destination. I made a mental note to always request a hotel car when staying at a good hotel even if that costs more. Beyond safety concerns (both hands should be on the wheel while navigating treacherous terrain!), the driver abandoned me 5 kilometers from my destination, claiming his car, despite being an SUV, couldn't handle the steep climb. The locals are very nice though and they helped me get another taxi.

I was traveling in the monsoon season. Locals informed that landslides are uncommon in the drive between the airport and Mussoorie, except one spot, where the authorities are apparently quite efficient in clearing the debris.

Landour itself consists of two parts-upper Landour and lower Landour. Lower Landour is run by the municipal government while upper Landour is the cantonment, which are areas run by the army. During the British rule, cantonments were established as military quarters where troops were stationed. Today there are 62 cantonments in India and upper Landour is one of them.

The above is not an obscure technicality but a significant factor in the tourism experience. Upper Landour, governed by a military board, enforces strict construction rules to avoid crass commercialization around their camps and stations. However, in contemporary India, there is increasing pressure to integrate these towns more with civilian areas, allowing the military to keep their stations while merging civilian sections with nearby municipalities. Thankfully, this hasn't occurred in upper Landour yet, preserving the cantonment area's pristine beauty.

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The hotel

The hotel I am staying in is Rokeby Manor. It was built in 1840 as a private residence of Captain G.N. Cauthy, a British army officer, who built a huge mansion on a 2 acre piece of land. He named the hotel after Sir Walter Scott’s poem “Rokeby” about the heroic battles fought near the original Rokeby Castle in England. I imagined myself as Captain Cauthy, entering the gates after a hard day at work:

Most of the hotel is not visible from the main road. This is true for most estate homes in this area as the ultra-rich preserve their privacy. Once you come up the driveway, the impressive porte-cochère and the front facade becomes visible:

The night-time view of the hotel is even more stunning:

On entering, one finds a cozy lobby:

There are only 12 rooms offered by the hotel and four cabins, only one of which, the Log Cabin, is located within the premises. I was assigned room 12:

In India, unlike in the West, the family rather than the individual is the primary social unit. Hence, I was surprised to see that Room 12 was designed for solo travelers:

Since Rokeby was not originally built as a hotel, the rooms vary in size and character. Hence, most likely, there was no intentionality behind the three solo rooms that exist in the hotel. While the room itself is small (though the bathroom is as big as the room), it has a private courtyard with a view of the Doon Valley:

On the day I landed, there was heavy mist and one could not see the valley:

But then it rained heavily, clearing the mist and I was rewarded with a stunning view of the valley and the main city within it, Dehradun:

During the monsoon season, the views are not always the greatest because of the mist, which clears up when there is a heavy rain or the sun suddenly decides to shine bright. Another downside of the monsoon season is that the moisture in the air makes surfaces like the bed linen and your clothes damp. I have often said, for effect, that the insights from vipassana meditation is similar to taking a long stroll in misty weather and eventually finding yourself damp after a few hours. This was the first time in my life I experienced it (the dampness I mean and not the wisdom!).

A brief history of the mansion is provided right outside the front door:

Rokeby Manor has changed ownership many times during its long history. One of its most colorful owners was Fredrick "Pahadi" Wilson (pahadi means highlander), who bought the mansion in the 1850s. A deserter from the British army, he made his fortune supplying lumber to the railways that the English were laying in India. Earlier, in his life, afraid of being identified as a deserter, he had killed a man by pushing him down a gorge in a scuffle at Mussoorie's Camelback Road. Even if this is an apocryphal story, it is fun to believe it.

Pahadi Wilson, being rich, had many homes in the Greater Mussoorie area but in 1859, when he had his first attack of gout, Rokeby became his primary residence for a few months. The Wilson family held Rokeby for four decades. You can read about his colorful life here. As I walked into the cozy living room, I got goosebumps imagining the Wilson family sitting by the fireplace:

What was the Wilson family dinnertime conversation like! This was a tumultuous time politically because the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny had recently taken place and as a white man in India, Wilson would have been a target. Today there is a small meeting room inside the hotel, called Wilson's Chamber, that they rent out for corporate shindigs:

Interestingly, Wilson was a bigamist, with both of his wives being local Garwahli women. He married his second wife after his first wife was declared medically unfit to bear children following three miscarriages. His son Henry, by his second wife Gulabi, sold the home in 1891 to an American missionary Reverend J.S. Woodside, who founded the Woodstock boarding school in Landour. Eventually, the Rokeby property changed hands to the Woman’s Foreign Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1930, becoming a boarding house for women. From that point onwards, Rokeby Manor ceased to be a private residence.

Those who have read my series on the Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago would recognize similar dynamics that apply to these grand mansions across the world. Over time, there are not enough wealthy individuals to maintain these properties. In Chicago, before preservationists began pushing back against modernization, many mansions were torn down and replaced by condominium towers. Others became consulates and museums, with only a few remaining as private residences. In contrast, there seem to be enough wealthy people in India who can afford to maintain the Landour cantonment mansions, either as private residences or as hotels.

A walk up the stairs takes you to the in-house restaurant Emily's (there is no elevator because of restrictions on the types of renovations that are permitted to historic buildings). The restaurant is beautiful, though I found the food to be pedestrian:

The restaurant Emily's is named after Emily Eden, who traveled to India while her brother, George Eden, was serving as the Governor General of India from 1835 to 1842. In 1867, two years before her death, her letters from India, written to a sister in England, were published as a book. You can read them here at the Project Gutenberg website.

Strangely, Emily had a pretty scary ride on her way up to Landour, reminiscent of my own experience with the reckless taxi driver. Emily was being carried in what she refers to in her letters as a jonpaun, which Indians would call a palki , a type of palanquin where four bearers carry a passenger on a sheltered chair. Her description of the journey is quite hilarious:

The bearers are steady men, I have no doubt, but still I wish they would not race with each other; for at the sharp corners where they try to pass, the outer jonpaun hangs over the edge, and I don’t altogether like it. In the afternoon we took a beautiful ride up to Landour, but the paths are much narrower on that side, and our courage somehow oozed out; and first we came to a place where they said, ‘This was where poor Major Blundell and his pony fell over, and they were both dashed to atoms,’—and then there was a board stuck in a tree, ‘From this spot a private in the Cameronians fell and was killed.’ Just as if there were any use in adding that he was killed, if he fell—anybody might have guessed that.

Unlike Emily, who was seeing names of people who were killed on that road, street signs today display sanctimonious messages (speed thrills but kills, better late than late!). Instead of these platitudes, the Government should replicate modern versions of the messages Emily was seeing in 1838 (Mr. Singh, his wife and two children died instantly here because Mr. Singh was texting while driving!).

Emily travelled to India with her sister Fanny. The word "posh" is commonly, and perhaps erroneously, believed to originate from the acronym "Port Out, Starboard Home," referring to the cooler, more comfortable and thus more expensive cabins on ships traveling between Britain and India during the British Raj. Passengers, like Emily and Fanny, who could afford these prime spots were considered wealthy or "posh." Emily never married but perhaps she could have been a match for Pahadi Wilson. However, despite his wealth, I don't think he was posh! Besides, Mr. Wilson seemed to prefer local women.

I was tired and called it a night. The next day, I was rewarded with a clear daytime view of the valley:

There is so much more concrete in the Doon Valley now, compared to this drawing of the valley from a similar Landour vantage point in 1838:

Source: British Museum Website

The rear side of the hotel, that looks into a quaint garden, is equally charming as the front:

Fans of Great Expectations would expect Estella to step out any moment into the tea garden and ask imperiously what we were doing there:

The designers of the hotel have obviously spent a lot of thought (besides money) in detailing out the various features of the building. Look at the beautiful windows below:

The garage door reminds us of the time when there would be a horse drawn carriage instead of a car behind it and we might hear the neigh of Silver Blaze behind these doors :

The manager of the hotel, a very friendly man, was kind enough to get one of the staff to show me the cabins the hotel ran. The cabin, within the premises is the Log Cabin:

The Log Cabin is ideal for families with senior citizens who cannot walk up stairs since there is a bedroom and kitchen downstairs that they can use without ever going up. The other cabins, which are all off-premise are not suitable for people with disabilities or senior citizens. Many associate the term log cabin with Abraham Lincoln, who was born to poor uneducated farmers in a single room log cabin. But fear not gentle reader, apart from a shared moniker, the Log Cabin here does not expect you to rough it out, it is really quite cosy:

We walked up to the off-premise cottage The Bothwell Bank House, 10 minutes away from the main hotel and involves climbing up a steep set of stairs:

The cottage is stunning. While the Log Cabin is also a premium experience, the Bothwell Bank House is true luxury:

There is a lovely patio where you can barbecue with lovely vistas though the views in the monsoon season are mostly mist covered:

The Bothwell has a very nice bunk bed:

The architects who renovated these Rokeby Manor run cottages have maintained their historical character but the amenities are completely modern, including the bathrooms:

Even though the hotel, as well as the cabins, are quite modern in terms of functionality, the designers have done a fine job of recreating an old world analog charm, like this weather forecast for the day:

Another nice feature of the hotel is the covered porch, where you can see the scenery as well as be protected from the elements, including monkeys:

While I had initially found my hotel room to be quite small, I got quite comfortable in it:

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I had booked Rokeby Manor with misgivings about the price I had paid. The hotels in Indian hill stations are mostly unbranded and the branded ones are hugely overpriced. The problem with unbranded hotels in India is the old Forrest Gump line Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. I once stayed in a hotel where the management had presumably not heard of the concept of a shower curtain! Rokeby Manor would not spring any such nasty surprises. It is a beautiful property managed to affordable luxury standards and is particularly suited for those whose idea of tourism includes spending large amounts of time within the hotel itself. While the food here is acceptable, if you are the kind who writes reviews on Tripadvisor like the breakfast buffet was limited, you might want to give Rokeby Manor a pass.

It was now time to get out of the hotel and explore Landour. Click here for the next installment.