The Great Indian Trek: Part III

Till that morning (June 1), we did not come across snow on our way. But once we hit the road above Baidini, with Sabyascahi wishing us good luck, we were taken to the world of snow — though not as deep as we would have to negotiate later.

During the tedious trek, we also tried to unravel the myth from Mahendra, who enriched us with the local version of what happened during the great yatra of Nanda Devi king. Several centuries ago, the royal entourage took the same route, which we chose. At Pathar Nachani, where we had to camp for two nights (because that was the last place where grassland was available for mules), the king, according to the myth, buried the court dancers alive. The huge boulders that we also had to pass are nothing but the nachnis (dancers) turned into stone. From Ghora Lotani — above Baidini on the other side of the mountain — we could see Pathar Nachani at a distance, though it took almost an hour to reach there.

The most interesting incident at Pathar Nachani was setting up a makeshift kitchen where meals for five had to be cooked for two days, forget the several rounds of coffee sessions. Since there was no permanent structure unlike Baidini or Tolpani, we gathered some black sandstone to make the wall of the kitchen with a roof made by a piece of plastic, which was primarily used to cover our rucksacks and other stuff on Hira’s back. As soon as we put up tents and finished the kitchen, a hailstorm hit the place for around an hour leaving patches of snow around our tents.

Why Roopkund? Again the question came to our mind some 24 hours before we actually reached there. From Pathar Nachani, Mahendra was showing the serpentine ascent to Kailu Vinayak — a little black spot in the white — etched in the snow-covered hills. That night at Pathar Nachani, everyone of us had interesting dreams. Manas da saw killing some dozen men with sharp weapons like daggers and knives, I though that I was at Santiniketan, my regular weekend retreat, from where I would have to catch a morning train to Calcutta! And, Mahendra, who scaled to that height for at least a hundred times, was also not an exception — he also dreamt blood! Will you call it hallucination or altitude sickness? Or was it because we were tensed the last night before the climax, for which we prepared ourselves for months?

At Kailu Vinayak, Mahendra tried to light the incense sticks, but in vain, as the matchsticks only helped the snow around melt into water and put out the fire as soon as it was lit. The other possible reason probably was less oxygen level at that height (15,500ft). I didn’t even try that, because after the steep ascent for almost one-and-a-half hours, I was really tired and hungry till in the morning sun we had a feast with Sunfeast biscuits and mixed-fruit jam. From Kailu Vinayak to Roopkund via Baguabasa, the road was really tough. But we somehow managed to negotiate the 2ft deep snow. Baguabasa, with a huge cave, was the last place where the tiger of Nanda Devi king could go, Mahendra told us in his inimitable way.

Manas da, the thinnest of us all, had the least difficulty to trudge, but I had the most terrible problem of my life: walking in deep snow with a hockey stick — only two ice axes were there :( — at 16,000-odd feet in the treacherous mountain called the Himalayas. Once, after Baguabasa, I almost tipped on a rock, but could regain balance on time. The next one could have been really fatal, but this time too I saw a large piece of snow and some stones on the road rolling down under my feet and I was balancing myself with only the right foot!

(to be continued...)

Pix at: 1. http://picasaweb.google.co.in/supratimtt/RoadToRoopkund
2. http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php#/album.php?aid=117783&id=581712447

©Supratim Pal, 2009

The Great Indian Trek: Part II

Reaching the top to walk on the beautiful and vast 3km long Ali bugiyal — in Garhwali, bugiyal means high-altitude meadows — was not at all an easy task from Tolpani. With a heavy foot — as our shoes were completely soaked in rain the previous afternoon — and half-empty (or, half-full!) stomach, we trudged along the slippery road meandering through a forest where rays of sun were not seen very often.

Ali bugiyal was mesmerising. Never before did I walk on such a long stretch of greens with snow-capped mountains on the right and the huge meadows on the left. This time of the year is ideal for sheep, mules and cows to feed on the fresh grass and vegetation in the bugiyal and we met many cowboys and shepherds on the way to Baidini bugiyal. We spent one of the best mornings of our trek at Ali with the green natural carpet playing host to four urbane youth from a polluted city. At 12,500ft, you can feel the cool breeze — not smart wind — blowing from the Trishul or with a binocular you can set your eyes on the range of Himalayan peaks, names of which are also not known to the villagers with cattle.

Baidini is smaller than Ali. It lacks the vast expanse that Ali offers to the grazing cattle and awe-struck trekkers but Baidini is simply beautiful for its proximity to the peaks as well as for the odd shop selling food and charas (hashish) simultaneously! For Sabyasachi, it was the last stop, as he decided not to go uphill anymore for reasons best known to him. Lalaji and Naresh, the guy who took the shop on rent this summer — nobody takes the shop twice even if they make a good profit barring the Rs 6,000 rent for three months — gave him shelter and food for two days, of course that came at a steep price. We put up our tents at Baidini at a strategic place from where both Lalaji’s shop-cum-shelter and water source would be easily accessible. No sooner were the tents ready — around 2pm — than a smart hailstorm made us scurrying for cover, but three of us braved the shower to take up our two ice axes for making small ditches around the tents so that rainwater drains out quickly.

The evening at Baidini we spent as stargazers — something we can never enjoy in the smoggy atmosphere in Calcutta. The biting cold was not a deterrence to our night-out on the grassy slopes of Baidini. How many times have you seen Arundhati so bright near Basistha? Or the constellation called Cassiopeia has so many "hidden" stars? Even the best of planetarium could not have come up with the heavenly experience that we had in Baidini that night.

We woke up the next morning with the Chaukhamba and Neel Kanth peaks reflecting the first sunbeams of the day. After a breakfast with noodles, we took the snowy path to Pathar Nachani.

(to be continued...)

©Supratim Pal, 2009

The Great Indian Trek: Part I

Why did we zero in on this? Precisely, that was the question came to my mind when we had to climb about a kilometre — and that too amid incessant heavy downpour — to reach Didna, our first stop to have a cup of tea at a newly opened house. Only during summer months, owners of these houses come to stay at this Himalayan village at 9,000ft from Kulling and other hamlets in lower altitude. Fortunately, we found the house — the first and only one to have opened its door on the penultimate day of May — with its occupants busy cooking some stuff for themselves. The Garhwali lady was also quite eager to make tea for us even before we would order! For four of us — Manas da, Sushanta, Sabyasachi and me — the first three hours of the trek from Loharjung was exhausting and made us hungry like never before. And against the backdrop of the green Himalayan forests, we finished our last packet of gujiyas that we carried all the way from Felu Modak (www.felumodak.com)!

That was the fourth day of our trip, which we had been planning for the past couple of years. The question was a bit different in the beginning — should we do this? The altitude was not very conducive to any one of us, who have never gone beyond 12,000ft ever. But we were determined to do this trek — considered to be one of the tough ones in a difficult, but beautiful, terrain. For me, it was twice challenging, as I had typhoid barely six months before we took the arduous journey along the final path (mahaprasthan) taken by the Pandavas in the Mahabharat.

Once at Loharjung on a rain-soaked windy afternoon, I forgot whether I had typhoid or any other ailments. So was Manas da, who with motion sickness had a hard time on the eight-hour travail in a Bolero from Kathgodam railway station. Although Sanjay, the driver, was superb at the wheels, he could not stop Manas da from puking four-five times on the 250-odd-km hilly stretch. The moment an elderly man in the small village — of about 100 houses — came out of a tea shop that afternoon and showed us a peak with fresh snowfall, we hardly remembered that our summer special train from Sealdah to Delhi was late for over six hours! Soon we met Narendra, the most famous guide (thanks to the Net), in the market greeting us with his evergreen smile. Though Narendra could not accompany us, as he was "reserved" by another team for their trek a couple of days later, he made sure his brother Mahendra to show us the way after charting out the route easier to tread (unlike the numerous difficult ones suggested on the Net).

Didna was the first village on the route before we camped at Tolpani for the night. In the region, Tolpani is known for silk worm cultivation, as we found several white tents put up in the forest to breed the worms. Our experience at Tolpani was a bit odd, as we had to cook noodles and khichdi at a place we thought as a thatch-roofed hut, which turned out to be a stable for mules! Besides showing us the steep road ahead through the forest, Mahendra did a wonderful stuff that night with help from Dhan Singh, the owner of Guddu and Hira. In fact, the exercise of joint cooking would follow the next few days and nights, but in that conditions the simple khichdi seemed to be biryani!
(to be continued...)

©Supratim Pal