"National Park" means something different here from its meaning in Australia, where a national park is somewhere to go to where you can get away from people, and where you might sit on a rock in silence surrounded by bush or sand or unoccupied rocks. Eravikulam National Park is not like that: you queue for tickets to catch a bus up a narrow winding room with hairpin bends the bus can only just negotiate. Then you get out of the bus and walk up a continuation of the road for a mile or so, admiring the views on the way, to a sign telling you that's as far as you are allowed. (Apparently the road goes a lot further into the mountains, to villages of people who avoid contact with strangers.) Then you walk back again, admiring and photographing the "goats" (tahrs, actually) on the way down. The views are spectacular, and the goats quite charming, but be prepared to share all this with lots of people who are having a wonderful time. Frances didn't attempt the long walk, for knee reasons, and instead waited in the shade at the first bend. Here she became very popular, being photographed, and being asked to take photographs of dozens of couples on the walk. She was still busy when the guide and I returned followed by goats.