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Hello travelers

One thing I never liked doing since my childhood was to see off someone at the railway station! I still don’t. As the carriages moved out of the platform with me helplessly waving my hands, I used to think that the traveler is the luckiest one on this planet. When my friends went back to their hostels after their vacations, I used to think they were very happy to ‘travel’ back to their places of study where it might well have been to the contrary.

Such views have evolved with age. Destination and purpose of travel does have a bearing now. For example, when I travel to my native place for a vacation, I’m all too excited but same can’t be said for the reverse.

Just like many other Bengali families, travel started in my childhood with trips to Puri (Odisha). Whenever there was scope and time, that was the only destination to aim for. My parents never wasted time to choose places as that was always settled. So was the itinerary. It almost got to a point where I started to prefer staying at home rather than going there.

That pattern changed in our first ever trip to Darjeeling after my class X exams. That was the time I was introduced to the misty bends of the mountain roads. For the first time, I came to know that clouds could hover around me and I could swim in and out of them. The first ever view of Kanchenjunga from the mall was to change the way I looked at travel forever.

Then came the eventful trip to the Garhwal Himalayas in 1999. Events that occurred during the build up to that trip or even during it almost threatened to it, but we somehow managed to pull it off at the end. Nowhere in this world, you get to see a temple at the backdrop of the snow-capped Himalayas. I was thrilled to travel through places like Rudraprayag, the place where Corbett shot the man-eating leopard way back in 1925. I plan to share the details of this trip sometime in future on this site.

Then my profession brought me to the city of Delhi. Every year, when my company published the holiday calendar, our (me and my wife) first job was to look for long weekends. They were my windows to venture out to the corners of The Himalayas. Many such weekends took me to places of seclusion in Kumaon, Garhwal and Himachal Pradesh.

Mountain roads have always fascinated me. In more than one ways, they resemble the journey of life. After every bend, you’re presented with a view that is different from the previous one. It’s like a play with its scenes unfolding. You never know what surprise awaits you at the next bend. Mountains are probably the only places which let you to be with yourself. When you walk the trails up or down the slopes, you’re always with yourself and no one else. You’re responsible for the decisions you take, the speed at which you travel and hence, how soon you reach your destination.

I wish to share these experiences with you with my posts about my voyages. If they interest you, I’ll be more than happy to answer any queries you may have about those trips. Looking forward to interact with you all.

The Barun valley – the spirits of the Shipton La

Phemathang

27th October

As planned earlier, Manoj went off for Dobato at 7 AM with the hopes of reserving our stay. He was equipped with enough money and a packed breakfast. Quite assured about his success, we had our breakfast. For a change, we sat in the kitchen. Though it was smoky, the warmth was enjoyable. By & large the sky was clear, but clouds weren’t that far. The distant mountains played hide & seek with them. But that didn’t deny us the colors of sunrise. Phemathang has its own charm. Being situated within the gorge, it’s nestled between the high mountain walls that guards the flowing Barun river. The sounds of the violent torrent keep ringing in your years. They’re amplified by the mountain walls that close in from both sides. The valley opens up with a V-shaped sky on the northern horizon. The roof of the Makalu massif peeps above the hills. This is the last time one can see it in the Barun valley. It’s next appearance is at the Shipton La, provided the clouds stay clear. Thereafter, it makes it’s final appearance at the Khongma La. Beyond that, the trail moves down below the tree line. The stretch between Phemathang and Dobato goes through the deep ravines of the Barun river’s gorge. Consequently, the distant mountains stay out of view.

*Phemathang*, *picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After a brief view of the sunrise, we exited Phemathang. This was the first time we were seeing the surrounding valley in bright sunshine. On our way up, we entered Phemathang amid darkness. At that time, relief was the predominant emotion. After spending days above the snowline, the sight of the lush green forests was refreshing for our eyes. Unlike other trails, one has to rise above the tree line again to cross the four passes to reach Khongma. Depending on how you look at this aspect, it can be a double bonanza or unnecessary hardship. We enjoyed crossing the passes and passing by the two “Pokharis” between them. But that trail was slated for the next day (or so we thought). After exiting the gates of Phemathang, the trail moved amid green vegetation. These remote Sherpa villages have decorated gates at both ends. We knew this won’t last long as the large stretch of landslides would soon takeover. They gave us a tough time on our way up. I was preparing myself for these extended sections of debris. The ferocious torrent of the Barun river kept moving in leaps and bounds forming massive rapids and waterfalls.

*The Barun river, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

We made our way through the labyrinth of boulders along the banks. Giving a careful look, one can make sense of a desired way through the abyss. Sometimes by tracking foot marks and other times by common sense. Depending on the challenges thrown at us, we had two options. We either circumvented the obstacles by taking a longer route. Or, we shortened them by tiptoeing. One has to be careful in these areas as some of the boulders can give in under body weight. That’s where guides & porters come into play. But this time around, panic didn’t set in. Firstly, it was in broad daylight & secondly, we now knew the trail & the destination. Today’s walk wasn’t supposed to last beyond 4 hours. While crossing the landslide zones, we kept looking up along the slopes at regular intervals. There are no reasons to think that these streams of boulders have frozen in time and space. Nevertheless, we carefully negotiated them to reach the base from where the hike was to start for Dobato. It was the same set of stairs amid dense forests that moved constantly up through multiple switchbacks. On the earlier occasion, we traversed these amid hovering darkness & accumulating moisture. At that time, caution was the watchword. On this occasion, in bright sunlight, “tiring” was the predominant emotion.

At this junction, we bade adieu to the Barun river. It continued its journey down into the valley. There, it meets the Arun river. After giving a look at the ensuing staircases, we embarked on the hike. The usual tactics of setting small milestones did help with the cause. We used phrases like, “The next set of 10.” Or, “Till the next switchback.” Even, “Till the place where Dhananjoy is resting.” There were many expressions like these. For sometime, I noticed that Raju was lagging behind. It’s normal for him to walk behind the last person. He usually brings up the rear. That typically doesn’t leave a gap of many steps. I was the slowest, but Raju was keeping at least a couple of switchbacks behind me. He stopped often and that wasn’t normal.

At that time, I thought he was taking it easy because the trail wasn’t supposed to last long. It was only later in the day, I realized the impact. Nevertheless, we continued our hike through the forest. On our way up, we saw some construction going on. By the looks, it appeared to be a tea house in the making. In another few years, this route is likely to get traction and Dobato may not be a bottleneck anymore. The slopes started to gentle out. After a few more switchbacks, we could see the roofs of the tea house at Dobato from a distance. Checking on a passer-by, it was revealed that our stay at Dobato could not be confirmed. Manoj & Raju’s efforts went in vain. We entered the lodge premises with this depressing news. I tried to find out if sleeping at the dormitory was an option. That too, was exhausted. That leaves out the dining place or the kitchen. Apparently, none was available. We tried to think about the impact of this. There’s a remote chance to stay at one of the lodges at Shipton La. Their conditions weren’t very encouraging. We’d have to sleep at 4200 m at the top of a mountain pass. It can be paralyzing in the cold amid the winds that sweep that place in the evening. But there was no choice. Even grabbing that choice required us to ask the lodge owner at Dobato. We requested him to inform one of the two lodges at Shipton La via walkie talkie. With that sorted, we looked at the positive aspects of this development. That would advance us by at least 2.5 hours for the next day’s trail. Reaching Danda Kharka would be easier. We may not have the comforts of Dobato, but it was just for a night. At that time, the bargain seemed to be in our favor, but nature had other plans and so did the “spirits” at the Shipton La. Once staying options were sorted, we ordered lunch and relaxed in the sunshine. There was enough time to reach Shipton La and the trail, though tiring after lunch, was not difficult.

*Dobato, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After a comfortable lunch at Dobato, we resumed our hike. The trail moved up gradually amid rhododendron forests. After a certain point, we got a wonderful areal view of the Dobato tea house amid the forests. Though it didn’t offer us sleep, but that didn’t resist us from enjoying the view of the sole tea house. A guide from another team informed us that certain lodges at Tashigaon have connections with this tea house. Staying there could have ensured a stay here. It was apparent that despite the claims, our place of stay at Tashigaon didn’t have that privilege. A lesson learnt too late.

But little did we know at that time that this would prove as a blessing, given the weather conditions for the next day. The trail moved gradually up towards the Ke Ke La, the first of the four passes between Dobato & Khongma. It all seemed familiar and we reached the pass. The stupas and chortens greeted us amid the gloomy weather (by that time, the clouds started dominating). During both the ways, we reached the passes at a time where no views were possible. Wasting no time, we started our descent. The stair cases went all the way down through red & brown slopes to the banks of the Thulo Pokhari. We went down the stairs. We kept an eye on the dark waters of the lake. It kept growing in stature with every step down. Gentle winds created ripples on its surface. In no time, we were walking by the sides of it. It felt like a homecoming as we traversed the same route in the opposite direction.

*En-route Shipton La, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After sometime, the hike resumed for the Shipton La & switchbacks reappeared. But on this side, they were less frequent and gentler. With every step upwards, the pass kept revealing itself and finally we reached the stupas at its top. Our lodge was just below the top. When we entered it’s premises, dense fog & clouds engulfed outside. We were allocated a single room. Later on, after ensuring that no other traveler was expected, another adjacent room was allocated. We took turns to change to our home-wears and settled at the small dining space. The kitchen was located at the end of the same space. The burning wood served both purposes. To prepare the dinner as well as offer warmth. We hung our trekking wears around it with hopes of drying them up. We felt comfortable, now that we were under cover and had a shelter for the day. After sipping steaming tea, we spent time by playing cards and conversing with the family that owned the lodge. They were from Seduwa. They keep stocking this lodge with resources brought from that village, at least 2-3 days of walk from this place, by our standards. After dinner we settled into the rooms. The blankets were fluffy & warm. Raju & the porters slept in a room in the upper floor. Everything went quiet and we hoped for some sleep. Just then, we heard Raju talking with the porters and there were sounds of many steps above our roof. It seemed Raju was pacing the floors, talking to the porters in Nepali. We couldn’t understand much. After sometime, Raju came knocking at our door. Dhananjoy came in too. Raju was feeling heaviness in his chest and couldn’t sleep. He felt someone was pressing against his chest causing nightmares for him. I correlated this with his slow hike towards Dobato. That pointed towards high altitude sickness. Raju had regular addiction to cigarettes and alcohol. Despite warnings, he had been consuming both throughout the trek. Regardless of what science says, Raju thought it was down to the spirits who were playing foul with him. Otherwise why would he get nightmares? Reasoning was difficult and Raju was determined to go down to lower altitudes immediately. That also is the scientific remedy under such circumstances. What’s triggered by lack of oxygen can only be remedied by increasing it’s supply. The only way to achieve that is to go down. But at this hour? It was 23.45. Raju suggested taking along Anil to go down to Khongma. He handed over some money to repay the debt at the lodge, brought out his warm wears and started off for Khongma at the dead of the night. Anil followed him. When we saw them off, it had started snowing.

While going back under the blanket, different thoughts plagued my mind. On one hand, I was irritated with Raju. Being a guide, he should have been more responsible. At these altitudes, one needs to control their cravings. With Anil, he had taken along the most experienced of the porters. That left us with Manoj, the younger of the two porters. He now has to guide us down the tracks from Shipton La all the way through to Khongma and beyond. Looking at the weather, chances were high that we will have to traverse through snow filled tracks. Another part of my mind said that this could happen to anyone. It’s good that he decided to go down instead of putting his life at risk. Sleep eluded me for most of the night. While tossing over to a side, I felt the bed to be wet. The torchlight revealed that an entire section of it was covered with grains of snow. It must have been from my cap which accumulated some snow while we were seeing off Raju. But the extent of snow kept increasing. That’s when I realized that the room had some gaps between its walls and the roof. Snow kept pouring in through them. Fortunately it was localized and I shrinked myself towards the center. The rest of the night elapsed without any further drama. We were sleeping at 4210 m.

Phemathang

The Barun valley – Phemathang

Base camp Shipton La

26th October

The visits to the toilet continued deep into the night. Thought it spelled troubles for me, but it caused my headache to subside. The dryness of my mouth and a slight swelling of my tongue also vanished. The porters and guides from different teams continued their gossip and drinks late into the night. During my trips to the toilet, I glanced at the sky. On some instances they were clear, on others, they weren’t. That gave me some worry. Not only can they rob the chances of a clear sunrise. Gathering of clouds at this altitude can also mean snowing. That’s something we don’t want. My headache showed signs of decline. However, sleep was disturbed. Even a tiring day of hike couldn’t make me sleep well. This is enough indication that lack of oxygen was the cause. After tossing around through the night, when I was just starting to feel comfortable, the time was up. When I ventured out, the sky was clear. The entire massif of Makalu covered the northern horizon. Looking around, the other mountains were clear enough, except that their outlines were dark. Our exposed faces bore the brunt of cold. We didn’t yet dare to take our fingers out as the solar rays were yet to appear.

After some time, our perseverance bore fruit. The first solar rays began to decorate the heights of Mt Nepo and Mt Sersong. Makalu was yet to wear the crown. Though its entire massif was clearly visible. Clouds stayed clear off the mountain peaks. As soon as the first touch of gold started its patch on the mountains, we sprang into action. We forgot the numbness of our fingers in the biting cold and shutters kept rolling. We stood at the base of a wide amphitheater, surrounded by mountain peaks on all sides. Though others were equally beautiful and gave our first glimpse of golden shower, our eyes kept turning towards Makalu. It was yet to be bathed. These acts of nature move fast and colors change by the minute. So, there was no time to waste. We could see the entire trail we took to get to this base camp. A small track of steps moved up from the valley floor. The relentless sound of the Barun river’s torrent filled the air. Cold winds dashed our face. We were in full warm wears but none of them seemed sufficient. There came a point where all of the mountains wore the crown of gold. Makalu wasn’t an exception. But the colors on the Makalu massif weren’t as glorious as they were during the previous day’s sunset. Nevertheless, we had nothing to complain as others filled that space.

*Makalu base camp*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

After breakfast, it was time to bid adieu to the base camp. After a group photograph, we embarked on our return journey. We crossed the bridge over the Barun river and started moving up the slopes. What seemed easy while coming down, proved tough while moving up. The trail was just enough to put a pair of steps. Beyond that, the slopes moved steeply down towards the flowing Barun river. There was not an inch of soil visible on the surface. Manoj kept ahead of us, guiding through the route. Raju was behind me. I kept placing my steps in the marks created by Manoj. He judged the strength of the snow by placing his foot. The color of the snow in such foot marks gives an indication. If it appears solid white, one could assume them to be safe. But there are ones that are light blue or green. They are the ones to be avoided. More often, these are formed by fresh snow and could give in under body weight. The trail was precariously close to the edge of the slope. My entire concentration was on the foot marks. That didn’t let me soak in the surrounding beauty. Every thing was in monochrome. In fact, there was one color that dominated the entire landscape and that was white. I was waiting anxiously to reach that section of the trail which moved along the middle of the ridge with enough space on both sides. But that eluded me for long. The current stretch appeared never ending. But every ordeal has an end. So did this. Seemingly, after ages, we finally reached the ground where the trail moved along the center of the ridge. I breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time after leaving the base camp, I could focus on the surrounding landscape. By that time, the mountains bathed in silver. The entire Makalu massif was dazzling bright in the morning sun. Streams of snow and ice came down its slopes in the form of multiple glaciers and ice falls. The upper section of the massif contained rocks with a yellowish tinge. Geologists must have an explanation about the source of such rocks. They rose millions of years ago from sea bed due to the ever colliding Eurasian and Indian tectonic plates. The process that gave birth to these mountains, is still on. Mt Everest also has a band of such yellowish rocks near its summit (called the yellow band).

Walking was easy over the snow, thanks to the micro-spikes. The patches of snow kept decreasing as we progressed towards Sersong. Sersong is the interim place of stay between the base camp and Langmale. After sometime, the snow reduced to a great extent and I had to remove the micro-spikes from my boots. That’s when the roofs of the tea houses of Sersong became visible. We descended the slopes towards it and finally entered its lawn. We removed our day packs to take some rest along with steaming tea. The locals started to play some music and the Sherpa owners of the lodge started dancing to the tunes. Our porters joined them too. While sipping tea, we heard a bursting sound. Following the pointed fingers of the onlookers, we saw a huge avalanche coming down the slopes of Mt Nepo. It was so near yet so far. We weren’t quick enough to film it. By the time we trained our lenses, the avalanche had lost its steam. These are awe-inspiring to watch from distance. But the mere thoughts of falling in their way, sends chills down the spines. That reminded me of a similar experience while descending from the Larkya La.

*En-route Langmale*, *picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After Sersong, the trail moved into the flat valley floor of the Barun river. It then took a turn to the left. As we moved along the trail, the Makalu massif gradually started going out of our sight. After sometime, only the tip of it was visible above the hills. The rest of the mountains kept company and we moved along the familiar tracks we crossed the day before. We crossed Merek and the same stretches of the valley. After sometime, we saw the gradual hike towards a top. We knew that Langmale lay beyond that. An easy stroll took us to the top and we could see the tea house of Langmale. The place was bathing in bright sunshine. Dhananjoy and Kunal had already reached there and were lying down in the lawn, basking themselves in the bright sunshine. It was sort of a homecoming for us. The place was familiar. So was the dining place. As lunch was getting prepared, we rested in the lawn. I opted for fried potatoes (the same dish I had on the evening we reached this place). Dhananjoy went for roasted potatoes. These were raw potatoes roasted in fire. Roasted hard and sprinkled with a touch of salt, they tasted delicious. I kept the practice of drinking large quantities of water. The owner of the tea house advised us to take a shorter route along the banks of the Barun river. This was the route we avoided on our way up to Langmale. We avoided it because there was a red cross that prohibited us from taking it. But it seemed it was safe enough and could save us time on our way down.

*Langmale, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After exiting Langmale, we started descending the rocky slopes. While moving up, it was tough on our knees and lungs, now it was the knees. The slope had some steep inclines at some places with broken rocks and boulders. One had to be careful while crossing them. We finally reached at the base of the slope and bushes reappeared. We were entering into the treeline once more. That gave us some relief. Raju latched on to a local passer-by. He was heading to Dobato. The lad convinced Raju that he could help booking our stay at the tea house there. Raju gave him some advance and was sure that our stay would be secured at Dobato. The lad moved ahead. On our way down, we met a local lady who sprained her leg while crossing a landslide zone. She asked for some medicine and we gave her a painkiller. But that was more of a consolation. Painkillers help only when the body gets rest but she had to descend to Phemathang, still a long way down. After sometime, our tracks diverged. We took the route downwards towards the Barun river. She took the upper route, which was the trail we used on our way up. The zones of landslides started. One came after another. Now that we were accustomed to them, we navigated them by following the markings left by others. Mostly these were sets of stones stacked up in the form of a small monument. The track was broken at many places, but we kept moving along the banks of the Barun river. After crossing the Shiva-Parvati rocks, we entered the forest. The track went through level grounds through the forest. We lost the Barun river for sometime only to emerge on its banks, sometime later. This was the familiar wide valley that led to Yangle Kharka. Most of the travelers would be staying here We met the Slovenian group on our way down. The lady with the sprained leg reappeared. We saw her ahead of us, walking briskly though the track strewn with boulders and rocks with a stick in her hand. Even with her sprained leg, she beat us to Yangle Kharka. The magical fading light of the setting sun created wonders on the distant hills.

The wide meadows of Yangle Kharka was bidding adieu to the day. We still had another 2.5 hours to reach our destination. After crossing the checkpoint of the Makalu Barun National park, the valley narrowed. We now walked on a fairly level trail along the Barun river, which came much closer to our trail. The light started fading away as we headed towards Phemathang. After sometime, we crossed the wooden bridge to cross over to the other bank. The rest of the walk was on level ground and we reached Phemathang. This time around, we avoided the room that was adjacent to the kitchen. So, we were spared from the smoke and soot emerging from the it. Tired legs after a long day of trekking tempts you to rest immediately. But I ignored them and changed my clothes. The challenge of finding accommodation at Dobato was still lingering in our minds. Paying advance to the local passer-by was not deemed enough. Raju came up with a plan. It was to dispatch Manoj early in the morning with packed breakfast to Dobato to try and ensure a booking. The rest of the team would follow later. News was ripe about large groups coming from Khongma as well as Yangle Kharka, both competing for space at Dobato. At that time, the plan seemed precise. This was based on an assumption that accommodation was available on a first come first serve basis. The fact that Manoj will start from Phemathang (about 2.5 hrs before Dobato) would give him an early-start advantage. That should increase the chances of acquiring a stay at Dobato. We went to sleep with hopes of getting accommodation at Dobato.

Base camp Shipton La

The Barun valley – Makalu base camp

Langmale Phemathang

25th October

There were different reports about the expected amount of snow en-route base camp. So far the route has been devoid of snow. But on this last leg, it’d be surprising if Makalu didn’t throw up some challenge. After all its the fifth highest mountain in the world. I recalled the videos of the base camp. I have seen them multiple times over the years and hoped to reach there someday. Today would give us that opportunity. I yearned to reach that final little wooden bridge. It lay over the frozen stream of the Barun river. Beyond that, the lodges of the base camp welcomes the travelers. Unlike the Everest base camp, where one can’t get to see the summit, Makalu is visible from its base camp in full glory. It’s areal distance from the base camp is even lesser than that of Mt Annapurna from its southern base camp. I suspected that Langmale would offer a panoramic view of the peaks. Clouds deprived us yesterday. But the moment I entered the lawn at the early hours of dawn, I could see the sky littered with stars. The dark silhouette of the surrounding mountains corroborated my understanding. Mt Makalu isn’t visible from here but others dominated the sky. There was a trail that gradually moved up from the lawn towards another set of rooms. The trail circumvented around them, went beyond and disappeared in the darkness. That’s the trail towards Makalu base camp. Despite enough warm wear the cold was biting. We kept our vigil on the dark edges of the surrounding peaks. We watched on as the drama of colors was about to play out.

It started with a soft light gradually diluting the darkness. The silhouette became more prominent. Beyond the point where the trail to base camp disappeared into oblivion, rose Mt Chamlang dominating the horizon. Moving anticlockwise from there, there was Mt Nepo, Mt Sersong and other Himalayan peaks, still dark in their appearance. Winds dashed our faces but we persevered.

Mt Chamlang absorbed the first brush of gold. Mt Nepo wasn’t far behind either. Nature’s paintbrush worked wonders in the canvas of the mountains. Their slopes, glaciers and ice falls struck gold. The canvas changed colors by the minute. Gold gradually faded out giving way to a silver blaze. The mountains basked in their full morning glory amid clear skies. Small fluffy clouds floated along their edges. All of the mountain summits were wrapped in white scarves. These were plumes of snow particles sent out into the sky by gales of strong winds dashing at their summits.

After breakfast, there were some group photographs taken. Then we started off for the base camp. The trail left the lodge and gradually moved up. Walking was easy. We stopped often as the mountains offered ample scope of photography as they kept changing angles with each step ahead. After reaching a height the trail moved down into a wide valley. Barun river reappeared and our trail went by its side.

Barun river, en-route Makalu base camp, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De

Its torrent was less violent in the valley. The streams started to freeze. They flowed amid frozen ice. The valley was barren and wide, strewn with boulders. The Barun river formed its outer rim. Beyond that, rose the mountains. The ground was almost flat during the first part of our journey. The glaciers along the mountains were getting clearer and so did the contours of their slopes. With every step ahead, the mountains drew nearer and increased in stature. The landscape was totally devoid of any vegetation. It was all about snow and rocks.

*En-route Makalu base camp, picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

The rocks stood on top of another in a loosely stacked aggregation. It gave an impression that a moderate wind or any such similar trigger could roll them over at anytime. Everything seemed so temporary and transient. It could so happen that next year, these formations might get replaced by others. After about 1.5 hours, we reached an area surrounded by mountains. Their slopes were barren and broken. They were literally stripped to the bare.

A signboard displayed the name of the place. It was called “Merek”. This is the name that was mentioned in our itinerary as a place of halt before reaching the base camp. However, we were informed at the very start of our trek that it was not suitable for a halt. This was due to the threats of impending landslides. Looking at the site, we realized that they were correct. The path went beside the stream of the Barun river at some places. It was now almost fully frozen with very thin streams of water flowing from melting snow.

The valley started to turn to the right. That’s when Makalu appeared beyond the hills. The route started to move up and the trail went through a maze of boulders. We started to cross another landslide zone. Gradually, we started seeing rocks with their tops covered with snow. Small and medium sized patches of snow were scattered on our route. But we were still capable of circumventing them to move ahead. We had to find our way through them as there was no clear trail available. At some distance, we saw some green roofs – a tea house! There was a small lawn in front of it where other trekkers lay around leisurely. Some even sat on chairs sipping hot tea. We entered the lawn and removed our day packs to have some rest. The surrounding was magnificent. The tea house was right below Mt Sersong and that’s why the place also bore its name. We were sitting at the base of a bowl and its edges were formed by mighty mountain peaks all around. We felt so insignificant amid the huge surroundings. Lemon tea was ordered and we took the time to soak in what nature placed at our disposal. Shutters kept rolling but they couldn’t do justice. The sun was shining bright and the clouds stayed away. Some of the trekkers started to move out (the ones who reached earlier than us). I followed their trail as far as I could see. The valley narrowed from hereon and the trail moved steadily up. Base camp was another 2.5 hours away. The snow started covering larger tracts of the route. I had a feeling that I’d have to rely on micro-spikes very soon.

*Sersong, picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

We resumed our hike. Sersong was left behind and after sometime, it turned into a small dwelling. There wasn’t any clear trail but a network of paths moved in a general direction. Snow started to close in from both sides and after sometime, it wasn’t possible to circumvent it. So I sat on a dry section to put on the layer of micro-spikes onto my boots. It’s a web of sharp spikes woven into a cage made of hard rubber. One had to insert their boots into that cage and pull the rubber strap behind the heels. Once the cage fits in, a Velcro strap needs to be fastened to make it hold tight. The act took about 15 minutes. With micro-spikes now fastened, I didn’t have the headache to find out a trail devoid of snow. Instead of that, I’d rather step over them to get me acquainted. As I moved over the snow tracts, my boots made small dents.

*En-route Makalu base camp*, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De

I saw similar dents made by others on the track and tried to keep my feet in them. It’s an act of literally filling in the shoes. It’s important to follow such foot marks, especially when the snow gets deep. They give an indication of hard ground. Snow can be treacherous and there are sections of soft, fresh snow which gives in easily. One could get knee-deep or even waist-deep in no time and it can be come difficult to negotiate the track. I retained this act of following into others’ steps right up to the base camp. Though the snow was getting deeper, the ground was still wide. There was enough space on both sides to give confidence. But that was to change soon. Mt Makalu emerged from the hiding. It was now visible in its full glory on the northern horizon in front of us.

The trail now gradually moved towards the left edge. There was just enough space for a single person to move at a time. To our left, the slope went steeply down to the banks of the Barun river. To our right, the steepness was the same, but upwards. Our porters and guide Raju were leading the way. Anil moved in front of the group. Raju was behind or in front of me, depending on the incline and the support I needed. Manoj was guarding the rear. Thus, our small train navigated the steep slope. It was now completely filled with deep snow. We kept an eye out for the signs of the base camp. The entire landscape was dazzling white. The sunlight reflected from the surface and increased the glare. We couldn’t see anything on the LED displays of our cameras and mobile phones. It’s tempting to remove the glasses. We wanted a clearer view, but we were aware of its impact on our eyes. The views were mesmerizing. We had to rely on guesswork while training our lenses because the LED displays let us down. The entire massif of Mt Makalu dominated the northern horizon.

Other mountains were equally imposing and they kept closing in as we moved along the slope. We saw a patch of red in the distance amid vast swathes of snow deposits. Then there was another one, followed by a few other colors. They were the roofs of the tea houses at the base camp. With that in sight, we were ecstatic. That prompted a few more photographs with the distant base camp at the background. We now sensed the slope moving downwards. Descending is even trickier on such narrow snow filled slopes. I thanked the micro-spikes because of the grip they provided. More than physical, its the mental peace which they bring in. Carefully negotiating the track, we finally came down to level ground. The serpentine trail moved along the valley floor towards that coveted wooden bridge!

As I walked over and stood on the bridge, it gave a sense of coming to a “known” place. It was a unique feeling, given that we were visiting the place for the first time in our lives. The Barun river was flowing beneath it. It came down from the glaciers along the southern slopes of Mt Makalu, which stood right in front of us. Beyond the bridge, we took a few more steps on the accumulated snow. Then we entered the premises of the base camp. There were about 4-5 tea houses at the base camp.

All of them were rectangular and were oriented north to south. Our room was right at the end. We took off our shoes. I retained the cage of micro-spikes on the boots. This was to save the effort of putting them on tomorrow. The entire compound was filled with heavy deposits of snow. They have been cleared in between to make ways. Long icicles hung from the roof of the tea houses.

The weather was warm. The tea-house was excellent. It had enough reserves of every type of food items and drinks. The lunch was comfortable in the closed dining area. After lunch, we stayed in the dining area, playing cards. By that time, it started getting cloudy and the cold increased in leaps and bounds. On our request, the owners of the tea house started the chimney fire earlier. Dried yak dung cakes were filled in its chambers and the fire was started. It took time to set in, but after that, the room was comfortable. The Slovenian group also stayed at this tea house and they sat by our side. One of their senior members have been coming to Nepal for the last 35 years. He has been to more areas in Nepal than any of us. He’s in awe of this country. Not just the landscape, but also the people and their diverse culture. I developed a slight headache and my tongue went dry often forcing me to keep them moist by sipping water regularly. The headache gave me a mild tension. Headaches at such altitudes always raises fear of high altitude sickness. They sneak in unnoticed and remove land under your feet in no time. Could the snow glare have caused it? Or was it the altitude? I kept pondering, while sipping water continuously. Dhananjoy suggested a simple formula to keep ailments under check. “Keep drinking water until your urine gets colorless”. Having multiple sips of water also forced me to the toilet multiple times. It was a tough ask. Now that I was down to rubber slippers, I had to find a snow-less track to the toilet. It was right at the end of the lawn. I also had to ensure that my socks didn’t get wet from the melting streams from the snow deposits. Though inconvenient, it also gave me a chance to keep an eye on the northern horizon. Clouds covered Makalu and chances of a sunset view were getting slimmer.

We were playing cards in the dining room. While we played, I saw one of the members of the Slovenian group quickly come inside. They informed their group promptly. The members dashed out of the room with cameras. We followed them outside and there it was, Mt Makalu, colored with crimson-gold in the fading light of the sun. The clouds still held sway but the view cleared just enough to unveil the glorious show. It was nature’s way of bidding goodbye to a splendid day. The winds were strong. We were grateful to the ladies of the Slovenian group. They kept vigil in the biting cold while we enjoyed the warmth of the dining room. It was tough to take the snaps. Operating the camera was impossible with gloves. We had to remove them. We kept taking the snaps ignoring the numbness of our fingers. The pain was worth. The upper section of the massif wore the crown of gold. Plumes of snow flew up from its summit because of the strong gales. The rest of the massif was shielded behind the clouds. The upper massif was floating amid the clouds with a crown overhead. We remained there and continued taking snaps till the last tinge of color faded away like a dying ember.

*Makalu base camp*, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De

Thus ended a splendid day. We went back into the dining room and continued our play and gossip. The day ended successfully at the base camp. Members of all groups were happy. They were filled with a sense of accomplishment. That poured out in the form of song, dance and party around the chimney fire. All of them danced around to the tunes of rural Nepalese songs. Such scenes are often seen at the tea houses of Nepal. Why can’t the world live like this? It seemed there are no conflicts in this world. Everyone touched the hearts, understood the feelings of others and bode no ill-treatment towards anyone else. Language isn’t a barrier, neither is culture. Everyone is equal. All they care is a successful and safe day of trek. The support staff goes to any end to make it happen and the travelers are grateful to them for that. We were satisfied while going under the blankets. Our minds were hopeful of a spectacular sunrise for the morrow. At 4870 m, we were sleeping at the highest altitude of this trek.

Langmale Phemathang

The Barun valley – Langmale

Dobato Makalu base camp

24th October

We entered Phemathang under darkness amid the roaring sound of the Barun river. I was the first to wake up at 4 AM. The dark sky was littered with numerous stars. But the bitter cold air, laden with moisture from the river, didn’t allow to enjoy it. I almost ran for the toilet. I was pleased to be back in bed to enjoy the rest of my sleep. These early alarms pose a challenge to wake up. After completing my morning duties, I get an additional hour of sleep. I enjoy this extra rest while others go about their activities. Brushing the teeth proved challenging as it meant applying ice cold water to my face. The soft light started to make inroads into the valley.

On the northern horizon, the sky was acquiring brightness. There, beyond the left edge of the hills, the crown of Makalu was visible. It was our next meeting with that mountain after the Khongma La. The surrounding was serene except for the roaring sound of the torrent of the Barun river. We went down towards the gorge. The river came down in leaps and bounds creating massive rapids. The vibration against the walls amplified the roar as the river forged it’s way down through the valley. A long way down somewhere it meets the Arun river which has it’s source in Tibet. The entire stream of the Barun river freezes in winter. After the Barun river submits all its discharge into the Arun river, the Arun takes over the baton. It then carries the combined discharge through the lower valleys of Sankhuasabha.

*The Barun river, Phemathang*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

We followed our plan and had breakfast. Afterward, we wrapped some packed lunches (of rolled chapati and jam) in our day packs. Then we started the journey. That is because, beyond Yangle Kharka (the next place of halt), there aren’t any other lodges before Langmale. Actually, there is a lodge after Yangle but it is closed now. We saw a sick lady at Phemathang who was the owner of that lodge. She was going down to her village in the lower valley to recuperate. After the usual ceremony of a group photograph, we started our journey. The trail went gradually ahead along the banks of the river. We couldn’t see it because of the elevated height of the gorge. However, we kept hearing its sound getting louder. After some more walking, we reached a bridge over the river. The bridge transported us to the right side of the Barun river and the trail started moving up.

*En-route Yangle Kharka*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

Given that we were in the valley, the route moved through the forests. This was at contrast to the trail yesterday which was above the tree line, over the passes. As we moved along, the Barun river kept company. The depth between the trail and the flowing river kept decreasing and after sometime Barun was flowing by our side. The valley started to open up. The Barun river now appeared to flow along flat ground, distributed in multiple small and large streams. Just then, at the corner of a bend, a writing on a wooden board declared “Yangle Kharka”.

There was a check post of the Makalu Barun National Park. A single official sat in the small room. I wondered how he must feel to spend his entire day in this room. It is far away from the rat race of life in the middle of nowhere. His only companions would be the surrounding mountains. The distant stream of Shivadhara falling almost from heaven and the streaming Barun river. Kharka means a meadow in the Nepalese language. Yangle was indeed one.

*Yangle Kharka, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

The lodge was on the right with a set of rooms. One of the rooms advertised the facility of a hot shower, the first of it’s kind on this trail. Shivadhara is a sacred waterfall in this region. The legend says that Lord Shiva created this waterfall with a stroke of his trishul. It falls from a height of about 500 m from a hole in a cave. The route towards it diverts from a place beyond Yangle and that trail is challenging. There’s a section where one has to step over wooden planks fixed on a vertical wall. I’ve watched videos about it and kept it out of our syllabus. It also required more days. We saw many local groups heading for that place. It’s considered a sacred pilgrimage in this part of Nepal.

We spent sometime in the wide meadow. The sun was shining bright. We had to cross the meadow to reach it’s corner. While doing so, we crossed many small streams. These were some of the numerous tributaries of the main stream of the Barun river. It flowed along the remote edge of the valley. We moved amid many small rocks spread among white sand. The surface of the ground indicated that they were part of the river bed in the past. It flowed through these areas. There’s no reason why it should not change its course again. The rocks had brown and red pigments making the sight beautiful. We saw it acquire shades of gold and crimson when we crossed this area on our way back. After sometime we entered the forest once again. The trail now had a consistent tree cover. It came in and out of the forest to kiss the banks of the Barun river.

Then came a set of staircases. After ascending them, we walked along flat ground under the shadows of tall trees. We saw clouds coming along and the sun soon started playing hide and seek. Just as the clouds started to take control, we moved out of the forest into another meadow. The trail was lined by rocks. It went through the meadow that was dotted with small bushes and trees. The diverted into two parts from a junction. A huge red cross was marked among the rocks in one direction. Hence we took the other direction.

*En-route Langmale Kharka*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

It was about 12 when we stopped by a hut to have our lunch. The rolled chapatis hardened and we had a tough time to tear them into pieces. Once done, the pieces had to be forced down our throats, often with the help of water. Taste was unimportant, filling the stomach was. As soon we stopped walking, the cold winds started. This often causes a dilemma. Walking causes you to sweat, forcing to take off your jacket or hat, but halting brings the cold back. I repeated the spells of taking warm wears off and on, causing much inconvenience for the guide. Raju was walking with me and always helped me with these interchanges by holding my day pack. Beyond the bushes, the trail moved into a landslide area. Before that, we went past a closed house. We met the owner of this house in Phemathang in the morning. I stopped for a moment to have a look at the route ahead. It went through multiple landslide areas to reach at a base. There was huge jump in elevation at that point. Beyond that, the terrain wasn’t visible from where I stood. Beyond the horizon, huge massifs of the Himalayan peaks formed the skyline. We recognized Mt Nepo, Mt Chamlang and other peaks.

But Makalu wasn’t visible. Langmale lay somewhere on that elevated plateau. For us, the immediate milestone was to reach the top of that plateau. This was our second traverse of landslide zones after the one we crossed before reaching Phemathang. It didn’t appear that scary on this occasion despite being at a higher altitude. The daylight had a role to play and so did our state of mind. They kept coming one after another. For each, we had to cross a stream of debris. Boulders of different size & shape stood as obstacles and we circumvented or tiptoed over them. Some of them didn’t like our presence and threatened to topple us, but we finally managed to reach the base of the elevated plateau. It was a sight of wreckage and destruction. The trail rose through an ensemble of boulders and pebbles in leaps and bounds. We followed along with careful steps. On our way we came across a group of trekkers from Bengal on their way down. All of them were above 60 years in age. They shared their experience at the base camp. Their description of the route and the views lifted our spirits. The bade good luck and we moved in our respective directions. One part of my mind envied them as their milestone was fulfilled. Another part pitied them since their joy was over.

Barun hid from our view as we embarked on our upward journey. It was a series of steps trying to reach the zenith. Weather was cloudy and winds started blowing. I also felt a few drops on my body. That’s something I dreaded as no one wants to get wet. Fortunately, the precipitation remained constrained to a few drops here and there. The area was totally devoid of any vegetation. We moved through heaps of boulders whose appearance bore proof of instability. A quick glance around tells that nothing is permanent in this landscape. The slopes became gentler. That told us that we were reaching the top. The sights of roof tops of the first lodge gave us relief. As we started going towards it, Raju screamed from behind to urge us to move ahead. There was another lodge at a higher altitude. We saw our porters, Anil and Manoj coming down the slopes to receive us. After starting at 7:45, we reached Langmale at 15:00. We were allotted a room that could host six persons. It had 6 beds and we used some of them to spread our luggage. It was good, cosy and a luxury under the circumstances.

*Langmale Kharka, picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

After settling in and changing clothes, we headed for the dining area. This was the first lodge on this route. It could match with their counterparts in the famed trails of Nepal in terms of comforts. Like other routes in Nepal, this lodge’s dining area was bustling. It was filled with trekkers, their guides, and porters. We somehow could lay our hands on a pack of cards and games were underway. Tea was served after sometime and it was accompanied with fried potatoes. They were spiced up to our taste. We enjoyed the taste thoroughly. That prompted me to order for it at dinner time as well. We were engrossed in the warmth of the dining space. A chimney was constantly being fed with dried yang dung cakes and fire. Suddenly, we realized that the windows of our room were open. By that time, it was late evening. When I entered the room, most of our clothes were moistened. The mist had made its way through the open windows. I cursed myself as I found the surfaces of the beds were also moist. Losing calm over what has already happened was of no use and I closed the windows to prevent further damage. Back at the dining area, the card games were fully on. We met the owner of the lodge. He was a skilled Sherpa mountaineer. His summit credits include Mt Everest. They also include other peaks over 8000 m in altitude. We were relieved to know that he also owns one of the lodges at the base camp. That’s where we were slated to stay. We were served dinner and that’s when I realized my mistake. I ordered a full plate of fried potatoes which was way beyond my capacity. In the evening, three of us shared a plate, but Dhananjoy opted for Yak soup and Kunal, something else. I kept coaxing them into sharing my dinner and they partially obliged. I managed to delegate some of the rest to our guide and porters. These efforts brought the remaining quantity within my limits. After a brief planning for the next day, we headed to our rooms. My worries about moist clothes vanished quickly as our body warmth was enough to overcome it. We were sleeping at 4410 m.

Dobato Makalu base camp

The Barun valley – the ordeal of Dobato

Acclimatization Langmale

23rd October

Equipped with an assurance for an accommodation at Dobato, we started off for the first of the four passes. The day was expected to be long. I had my skepticism but everyone else didn’t think much about it. It came as a surprise. On every trek, the day of crossing a high pass is considered crucial (kind of a D-day). This is because that day tests the limits and once you’re through, rest becomes easy. Such days are physically demanding and usually comes with risky terrains either while going up or while descending. For example, we started at 3:45 from Dharamsala to cross Larkya la during the Manaslu circuit trekking. The descent from the pass gave me a tough time. It was entirely through a rockfall zone. Getting a purchase on a steeply descending terrain was challenging, especially with loose pebbles conspiring under your feet. For Thorong La, it was the loose snow during the descent to Muktinath. You had to move fast to prevent the treacherous snow dragging you into the abyss. And who can forget the Cho La? Walking through narrow snow filled track, barely wide enough to place one foot at a time. A loss of footing there and you don’t want to think about the consequences. For the treks done so far, we had one such day at the most. This time it had four (most of them around 4000 m) and that too, in a single day. Moreover, it was not on the penultimate day. We would be going down into a valley to reach Dobato only to regain altitude to reach places like Yangle Kharka, Langmale, and finally, the base camp. The return journey would also need us to repeat these same passes. That made this trail unique. I had my doubts about the return journey. There was a day where we were supposed to travel from Yangle Kharka to Khongma. If going to Dobato takes a day, how can one cover the return journey which was even longer? This is normal when you gain height while going and lose while returning. But this was not a stretch which uniformly moved up. After crossing four passes, the trail would leave us at almost the same altitude where we started from. We would gain just about 100 m. The story for return journey would be the same. But locals seemed unfazed by this. We didn’t even start before 7.30. It actually turned out much worse while going up and return was no different. The planned itinerary went for a toss. In hindsight though, that saved us. However, reasons for that were different.

The first pass Khongma La (3890 m) was already familiar. We went there the day before to witness the sunrise and were presented with the first view of Mt Makalu. That familiarity gave some relief. Comparable to an easy examination where all questions are expected from a known textbook. It’s like “Oh, it’s that same set of twists & turns. Just a few mouthfuls of breaths, and there you are at the watch tower.” It didn’t quite play out that way. The trail seemed longer, now that we were hiking in daylight and the route was visible. Hence, the feeling “what remains” also started kicking in. We crossed the upper tea houses. Then, we climbed the winding set of stairs and switchbacks. It took us about 2 hours to reach there. The views were familiar but equally amazing. Skies were clear. Makalu and its neighbors were devoid of cloud cover, appearing majestic. The trail after the pass gradually descended. After a bend, I suddenly heard the sound of a notification on my cellphone. Network! At this place! Our quick fingers dialed our homes. They had a bonus of knowing our whereabouts for an extra day. The gradual decline continued and I wasn’t feeling good about acquiring this debt which we’d have to repay. The more it takes down, more have to be regained.

*En-route Ghungru La, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

We could see the “repayment” going up the slopes in winding trails towards a distant top. It went towards a small dip on the contours of the mountain we were about to hike. It wasn’t clearly visible at first and only became clearer after we moved up through a few bends. Switchbacks started early on, indicating that this slope was steeper than the ascent of Khongma La. The distant mountains kept rising with us. After sometime, we saw the outline of a small stupa. That was Ghungru La (4055 m), the next pass. During our return, this same trail would turn monochrome. The bright sunshine & greenery would be hidden by dense clouds amid incessant snowfall. That’s a story to be told later. In the meantime, the switchbacks increased in frequency. Our knees and lungs bore the brunt. At least on the way down, lungs would have some respite. The slope gradually reduced in gradient and we finally reached Ghungru La. It was akin to any other pass with stupas and hanging prayer flags. The trail from Khongma to this point was well laid and safe.

There were even guardrails on some sections on the way up to Ghungru La. We took sometime at the pass for photography. This also was a chance to gulp down water, a crucial element at higher altitudes. Lack of it can allow high altitude sickness quietly sneak in to strike you unprepared. Once it strikes, the only medicine is to come down. It could jeopardize not just your plans, but your life. We saw an instance of it within our team in later days. The trail moved gradually down from the pass. Walking was easy. After losing some altitude, a beautiful lake appeared. By this time, clouds started to cover the sun. The lake was small. It had dark waters because of the reflection of the black rocky walls of the hills that formed its bowl. The water surface was mostly still with small ripples created by a gentle breeze flowing through the valley. We saw the finely laid trail lined by rocks. It went all the way down to the banks. Then it moved up again and disappeared among the hills in front.

*Sano Pokhari, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

Somewhere up there, among the V-shaped gap between two hills, lay the famous Shipton La (4200 m). The lake is called Sano Pokhari. In the Nepalese language, “Sano” means small & “Pokhari” means lake. If this is the “small lake”, there must be an elder sister sitting somewhere. She lies on the other side of Shipton La. We spent sometime at the lake. There was a prayer flag on its bank. The entire place presented no other noise or movement other than ours. The walk resumed along the other side and the trail started moving up. Though the slope was gradual, but the easy stroll turned into a hike once again. Staircases and switchbacks reappeared. I started my usual tactic. I set local milestones like “the next bend” or “the base of the next set of stairs.”, “Just a few more and you can take in a mouthful” etc. What looks like a top, becomes a base for the next, which only reveals once you reach there. As everything comes to an end, so did this and we saw the prayer flags and a few lodges.

The pass is named after the famous British mountaineer & explorer, Eric Shipton. He first came to this area in 1951. It was part of his reconnoitering expedition to the Southern routes of Mt Everest. He was also accompanied by Edmund Hillary at that time. He returned to the area in 1952 with Hillary, Charles Evans and George Lowe. They explored the Makalu base area after crossing what became known as the Shipton La. Shipton’s exploration opened up the Makalu Barun valley for mountaineering & trekking. Shipton La (locally called Tutu La) is an important geographical milestone on this route. It is the gateway to the high alpine Barun river valley. By this time, clouds held their sway. Basic dal bhaat along with khursani (green chilies) greeted us at the dining table.

*Lodge at Shipton La, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

It was about 1 PM, when we started our descent from Shipton La. The trail led us down to the bank of another lake, the Thulo (meaning big in Nepalese) Pokhari. On this occasion, there were two lakes. A big and a small with their water bodies connected by a small stream. The bird’s eye view of these two lakes was mesmerizing. The well led trail went all the way down to the bank. It then rose up and beyond to reach the last of the four passes, the Keke La (4170 m). All of the serpentine trail to that pass was visible.

Dobato lay beyond that, after an hour’s descent. While going down, I was thinking if it was possible to stay at Shipton La on our way back. But it’s height predicted severe cold at nights. The lodges there were rusty and promised to give a tough time. Someone high up in the mountains must have watched me and had a laugh at that time. The sights of Thulo Pokhari and our destined pass kept us going and we reached the Keke La.

Cloudy weather didn’t offer much for photography at the top. We wasted no time and started our descent to Dobato. Trees started appearing again as the trail moved towards Dobato. Dhananjoy went ahead and the rest followed him. We started imagining a satisfying stay. We envisioned a warm dining place with steaming tea. There would be plenty of recollection of the day’s trail. Relaxation was the primary feeling occupying our minds. We saw the single lodge of Dobato.

As we entered its arena, Dhananjoy (who reached earlier) declared “There is no accommodation available”. I saw our guide Raju in conversation with the lodge owner, trying to work out something, but without any success. Dobato is an important break in this trail, but the place only has a single Lodge. I’ve dreaded this possibility long before the trek and have been insisting our guide Raju to make advance booking. That didn’t happen. Ming’s assurance (the Sherpa boy at Khongma) proved futile. The lodge was full with earlier reservations for a few large groups coming from both Khongma and Yangle Kharka. It transpired much later (from another guide) that some lodges at Tashigaon have tie-ups with this lodge. Staying there can guarantee reservations up here. It seemed the lodge we were coaxed away from by the little girls at Tashigaon, had a contact here. Staying there could have ensured a stay here. We were staring at two options. Sleeping at the dining place (not guaranteed as far as blankets are concerned) or trekking further ahead for about 2.5 hours to stay at Phemathang, which has a lodge. I preferred the former since traveling another 2.5 hours seemed an uphill task. It was already 3 PM, clouds hovered around and darkness falls quickly in the valleys. We faced the possibility of having to trek in the dark, at least towards the last phase. Much against my wishes at that time (and I admit, I was wrong), it was decided to move ahead.

Once the decision was made, we wasted no time and resumed our trail. It now entered dense forests. The path started moving downwards through a seemingly endless set of rocky staircases. Since it was already cloudy, the forest trail was even more dark. The rocks were moist and some grew mosses over their surfaces. We kept going down carefully. It became clear that we were heading towards the river, probably the Barun river. We should have been excited to see it for the first time, but circumstances were very different. “Why does the trail look so desolate with no one around? Did we lose track and head the wrong way?” Asking Raju proved futile as he wasn’t aware either. The cost of taking a wrong trail in these areas at the end of the day can be fatal. Only Dhananjoy was firm. “Did we see any other way till now? Was there a junction anywhere that have led us the wrong way? Since none of these happened, keep moving.” My doubts were raised because till Dobato, we saw other trekkers, but not anymore. We should at least have seen someone coming up towards Dobato. “Everyone must have reached their destination by this time. No one is on the trail. That’s the reason.” – declared Dhananjoy. Looking at the steepness and length of the downward trail, I had another thought. There was no way we can travel from Yangle Kharka to Khongma in a single day. This was especially true with four pass crossings involved. Our own itinerary was flawed. The sounds of the Barun river increased. After a long descent from Dobato, we exited the forests and reached the banks of the Barun.

A thunderous torrent moved through the gorge creating massive rapids on its way. “Scaring but beautiful!” is how I describe it. At this time of the day, with tiring legs, fear was the more prominent feeling in my mind. To add to our problems, we now entered a huge landslide area. Large swathes of boulders lay along the sides of the hills, going all the way down to the banks. The trail was lost amid this destructive debris. We moved cautiously by tiptoeing over loosely placed boulders. We regularly glanced towards the top from where the debris stream originated. It seemed never-ending. One landslide zone led to another with a brief spell in between. We kept plodding ahead, trailing Raju’s steps. Our porters were asked to go ahead to Phemathang to make sure our stay there. I thought if one of them had stayed with us. They’re locals and have been on this route before. As daylight kept fading, we kept looking at the distance for signs of houses of Phemathang, but none were visible. It was all the roaring river, its numerous rapids and never-ending landslide zones. At times we mistook rock surfaces as roofs of houses from a distance. The landscape, the almost nonexistent daylight and our states of mind, all played hide and seek as we kept moving with tired legs. “Was that a human being? Oh yes, it’s Anil, one of our porters!” I’d be ever grateful to him for his decision to come ahead from Phemathang to guide our way. By that time we were already walking with our head torches. We had to spare one for the porters earlier. Raju managed with his cellphone. This didn’t go down well with me. A guide on a trail without even a fundamental item like a head torch! I kept quiet. Anil relieved me by taking on my day pack. We finally reached Phemathang in another 30 minutes.

The lodge was basic but who cares? It had a room, a warm kitchen & blankets. It also had charging facilities! What more one needs? Intense planning went on between us before and after dinner. Dhananjoy was of the opinion “Now that we’ve moved ahead of other groups on the trail, let’s keep that advantage”. He had a point. There were a few main groups en-route Makalu base camp. The French group is headed for Sherpani col with about 6-7 members. A Spanish group has about 18 members. They met us on the way to Tashigaon. A Slovenian group has about 5 people. There were other small groups, but these were the ones whose itinerary aligned with us. Since number of lodges are limited in this route, they’re likely to stay at same locations as ours. Hence, we’d always compete for spaces and our fate at Dobato can repeat at other places. Dhananjoy’s idea was to break that using the advantage we gained today by advancing to Phemathang. Our next stop was Yangle Kharka, hardly 2 hours from here. His proposal was to advance to Langmale instead, the penultimate stop before base camp. That should advance our itinerary by a day. It made sense. I proposed to stay at Phemathang again (instead of Yangle) on our way back. That was for two reasons. We wanted to gain on the trail covered. We also wanted to be closer to Dobato, to have a better chance at getting accommodation on our way back. At that time, we got the idea that earlier arrivals at Dobato increased chances of reservation. Both of which proved untrue as I’d reveal in later posts. We sorted this out with Raju, Anil and Manoj. It was decided that porters would go ahead of us to guarantee our stay at Langmale. We’d follow after that. With planning done, we headed to our room. For the first time after Seduwa, I got a chance to charge my camera batteries. Our room was next to the kitchen and the wall had gaps. That allowed smoke to enter our room from the kitchen. Its walls were black with soot. We had to be careful while choosing places to hang our clothes, which were scarce to find anyways. We ignored all that and were fortunate to be sleeping on a bed, under blankets. We were sleeping at 3500 m.

Acclimatization Langmale

The Barun valley – Acclimatization

Khongma Dobato

22nd October

I was breathing heavily while taking the steps upwards. Pressure was gradually building up on my knees with increase in steepness. It was stairs all the way, going up through a series of switchbacks. The head torch showed the way amid darkness all around. We started from the lodge at 4 AM and were on our way to the viewpoint. I was sweating inside but despite that I couldn’t remove my jacket. As soon as I stopped for a few mouthful of breaths, coldness set in promptly. My hands were gloved and my head, covered. This journey in the dark reminded me of our hike to the Mardi Himal viewpoint. Just like then, I kept focus on the traveler in front. Incidentally, it was Dhananjoy again. I rested where he did. Consciously, I didn’t look up and focused on the stairs, letting the trail guide us. The distance between switchbacks kept getting shorter. Their increase in frequency indicated that the top was nearing. We saw the watch tower now. With every bend it kept rising and increasing in stature. Finally, we stepped on a flat ground where a stupa greeted us. Prayer flags hung all around it. The dawn was breaking. Darkness was gradually giving way to a soft light.

Taking hands out of the gloves proved painful but without doing that, camera operations were difficult. We had to ignore the pain as time was running out. The eastern horizon was acquiring a crimson hue. Sharp edges of rays flew around the distant mountain ranges. Mild stretches of clouds floated above the mountains. The reflected solar rays colored them with crimson and gold.

It was literally a crowning glory. To our left, beyond the hills, a mountain peak was partially visible. It’s shape resembled a distorted bowl with elevated edges and a depression at the center. It’s a very well recognized contour. There was no problem in recognizing the mountain, thanks to many photographs of it that I’ve seen before. That’s the mountain that has brought us to this corner of the Himalayas. Over the next few days, we’d reach at its base.

This was our first overland view of the fifth highest mountain in the world, Mt Makalu. Though still half concealed by the hills in front, but nevertheless, it’s “the mountain”. It is one of the illustrious neighbors of Mt Everest in the Mahalangur himal. It took some time for me to absorb the moment of looking at it physically. Before that, my interactions with this mountain was all through photographs or videos, i.e. through someone else’s lens. Now, it was an opportunity to frame it in my own lenses.

That I did in abundance. The numbness in my naked fingers became irrelevant. We’ve come across thousands of kilometers just to see this. No matter how many snaps we took, it still felt insufficient. The perpetual abode of snow appeared bright against a sky which was yet to acquire it’s full brightness. A thin slice of cloud floated above it as a roof. The golden hue gradually infected Mt Makalu and its neighbors. The edges of the bowl acquired tinges of gold but its inner walls remained in the dark. This presented a unique contrast of colors. The crimson ball popped up beyond the mountains on the eastern horizon and started it’s journey upwards. The solar rays changed colors by the minute.

In this drama, the actors stayed still, while colors of their costumes kept changing. Makalu and its neighbors dazzled as silver in the full morning glory. When we look at the photographs later, it becomes a challenge to select the ones to keep among many duplicates. Many of us posed in front of this canvas. I’m a bit skeptical about this. Though we relish the proofs of our presence in such theaters, but nevertheless, it’s nothing more than a proof. I find myself to be a mismatch in such portraits. Hence, I keep myself restricted to framing pure landscapes most of the time. The prime subjects are Makalu and its neighbors. Also featured are the glaciers that decorate its slopes and the valley with its diverse flora and fauna. With the sun fully up, the cold was tolerable.

After some more video shoots and photographs, we headed down. The route now appeared to be longer in broad daylight. The lodges of Khongma appeared tiny at start, but kept increasing in stature as we went down. The meadows bathed in bright sunshine. After breakfast we brought out the chairs and sat in the sprawling lawn. There wasn’t much to do except to enjoy gazing at the distant hills and the snow peaks beyond them. I kept dozing off. Dhananjoy brought out a mat and spread it over the ground. We quickly lay down with the sun warming our backs. The French group (who were headed to Sherpani col) also stayed at the lodge. Their porters joined us in the gossip. Dhananjoy entertained the crowd with a demonstration of his yoga skills. The porters joined him too with their own unique antics. After sometime, we were told that lunch was ready.

The routine for post lunch session wasn’t much different, except for playing cards. The angle and color of the solar rays kept us informed about the time. As afternoon wore on, the sunlight acquired a touch of gold. The distant bushes acquired the hue. We were sitting beyond the tree line. The valley below kept getting darker, while sun continued to shower its rays over the hill tops. We inquired about our stay at Dobato. Ming assured us that he had already informed the owner of the sole lodge there. We shouldn’t face any problem in getting an accommodation there. Our hike for the next day was supposed to be longest with four passes to cross. Our route lay along the same trail traveled today and went beyond the watch tower.

A sudden look at my phone revealed a feeble network. We called our homes. We informed them that this was probably the last time they would hear from us for the next few days. We didn’t expect to talk again till we reached here on our way back. Diwali was just a few days back and festivities continued with the locals. They have unique festivities in Nepal around this time. At Seduwa, we saw a few kids wearing masks and shouting like crows. They came door to door and people gave them money or gifts. Apparently, that was a day to worship crows. The next morning, on our way to Tashigaon, we saw garlanded dogs. It was their turn of respect. Today, we learned that porters and guides from different teams would assemble in the evening and dance. They’d visit all the lodges in the area to repeat the same. Darkness fell as soon as the sun went down below the hills. We could still see the distant mountain peaks shine in the fading sun, but darkness reigned supreme around us. Card pay resumed at the dining table. The guide from the French group was a Sherpa mountaineer. He had climbed Mt Everest. That made him the second person on this trail who had the honor. Their plan was to travel beyond Makalu base camp to higher regions. They carried tents and other allied equipment and ration. Beyond the base camp, there are no lodges. They’d need to setup successive camps for a few days at ever increasing altitudes. The highest crossing point Sherpani col pass lay at 6155 m. After crossing over, one would reach at the Solu-Khumbu district in the Chukhung region. The rest of the route lay through the villages of Pangboche, Namche Bazar and finally terminated at Luk La. This route requires climbing skills and hence, the group carried the necessary equipment with them. This route traverses through one of the most remote regions of Nepal.

The festivities started after dinner. The locals started dancing to the musical tunes playing from their mobile phones. They danced in circles around the center. A few bottles of beer were placed there. There were also nuts, sweets, chocolates, and a few currency notes. The guests at the hotel donated money and so did we. They kept singing with a phrase “Deusi Re”. It is a phrase used in songs sung during Tihar festival in Nepal. It is also celebrated in parts of India like Sikkim, Darjeeling and Assam. During this festival, groups of boys or young men visit neighboring homes in their community. They sing and dance. They exchange blessings in return for food and money. The group left our lodge to visit the neighboring tea houses. The process would continue late into the night. After they moved out, we went under our blankets. Thus ended a wonderful day of leisure and rest in a remote Himalayan village. The terms “leisure” and “rest” would vanish from our lives for the next few days, rather unexpectedly. I imagined myself sleeping at Dobato in the next night. The cold increased and for the first time on this trek, I had to use warm inner wears.

Khongma Dobato

The Barun valley – Khongma

Tashigaon Acclimatization

21st October

We had a comfortable sleep as the beds and blankets were good. Dhananjoy had a different experience. The walls had gaps near his bed which let in cold air. Weather was playing good with us and today wasn’t an exception. While our breakfast was being prepared, I sat in the sprawling lawn to enjoy the sunshine.

There I met an Estonian lady. We saw her the day before. A few days ago she came to Tashigaon as a part of a group. Sickness compelled her to stay back while her group moved ahead. She had spent a couple of days here already. Her plan was to rejoin her group on their way down. The lost opportunity to visit the base camp didn’t seem to bother her. She’s been making strolls to the local village, observing their daily routines. Apparently she was enjoying her stay at this tranquil remote Himalayan corner, it’s laid back life.

Our conversations moved in different directions as we both asked questions about each other’s countries. Estonia is one of the three countries on the Baltic shores, along with Latvia and Lithuania. These countries were Soviet republics earlier and became independent in the early 1990s when the erstwhile Soviet Union broke up. She has lived through the Soviet era. She has had first hand experience of living under two very different regimes. Conversation with her revealed that the Soviet era brought significant state-run development. This included education, infrastructure, and public sector economic measures. At the same time, it was very secretive and came with riders of restrictions. Press was controlled and so was communication & travel to countries other than Russia. Separation broke these restrictions, but also meant that these countries now had to stand on their own. Today, the Baltic countries share economic & military alliances with Western Europe. The political landscape has changed for them from what it was in the Soviet era. They adjusted to the new realities. However, with leadership changes in different countries, new conflicts started. The contours of political alliances are changing again. This raises new challenges including fear of territory loss. The Baltic nations are no exceptions. In these uncertain times people rely more on their own sources of information. They prefer the internet and social media over official agencies. It’s not very common to come across persons who had been part of different countries. Even I’ve seen my own country go through rules by different political parties with different ideologies and economic policies. But all through that time, I’ve been part of the same country. My ancestors, however, were born in an undivided but colonial India. Then they became part of an independent but partitioned country. We’ve heard about their experience about pre and post independence eras. It was a similar experience to hear about her journey living under different political systems.

After being told that our breakfast was ready, we headed for the dining area. Our baggage were ready to be picked up by the porters. After breakfast, it was time for a group photograph and then we started.

*Tashigaon, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

Today’s journey was all about gaining altitude. Looking at the hill in front of us, the porters pointed towards a top. We would have to cross over the edge and travel further over adulating grounds to reach a place called Khongma. We planned to start from a height of about 2100 m. Our goal was to reach 3500 m. This was a gain of 1400 m in a single day. The maximum gain of altitude in a single day that we’ve experienced before was 800 m. That was from Phakding to Namche Bazar during the Everest base camp trek. Though it was challenging, there was a good part. This was being attempted at the lower section of the trail where there is forest cover. Itineraries are always designed that way. The longest marches or hikes are kept below the tree line. The higher you reach, shorter the travels become. At high altitudes, it is often desirable to reach your destination before lunch and have the remaining day for rest. We started at 8 AM. The target was to hike halfway through the route to reach Danda Kharka and have lunch. The word Danda means a hill in Nepalese language. Similarly, Kharka refers to meadows. The hike should take about 2.5-3 hours. Beyond that, another hike for a similar duration should take us to Khongma. We were told that the hike to Danda Kharka was steep, but the hike beyond that was relatively gradual. The trail left the lodge. It moved past agricultural fields and village homes. After a few bends, it entered the forests. It was covered by a canopy. The shade protected us from the heat. As altitude increased, rocky staircases started appearing and we started feeling pressure on our knees. We came across a few landslides where we had to cross by stepping over loosely held rocks. At another place, a stream flowed over these rocks. We had to cross over it by placing our feet carefully over these rocks which were smoothened by the torrent. Despite the issues, we found our way through to a position. From there, we got a view of the stream, its flowing bed, and the trail beyond. We took time to stand at that position in turns to get our photography done.

En-route Khongma

While walking through the trail, we suddenly heard a grunt from the bushes along with sounds of tingling bells. A dark creature was moving through the foliage. It was a grazing yak. We heard similar sounds from the surrounding bushes. Other yaks were grazing in the bushes and the tingling bells hung around their necks.

We continued moving up the stairs. Standing at the base of a set of stairs, it seemed that the ground beyond the top leveled gently. That gave me incentive, but as I moved closer to the milestone, upper stairs revealed themselves. That pattern repeated as we kept moving. We turned back to look at the trail below. We could see the fields and houses of Tashigaon below us.

Their diminishing size told us that we were gaining altitude. Then came a place that allowed the porters to sit and rest, leaning against the wall. We took the opportunity to gulp down sips of water. Some of us preferred to sit, but I chose not to. For me, it would have made it more difficult to regain momentum after that. For me, en-route rests are about stopping walks, but still standing on my feet. In this aspect, probably I resemble horses more than humans. Apparently, horses don’t lie fown while sleeping.

As every toil comes to an end with some rewards, so did this. In our case, the reward was reaching Danda Kharka. We removed our day packs from our backs, rested the hiking poles along the walls. Orders for dal-bhaat were given. While they were being prepared, we sat in the sun. This Lodge also belonged to the same owner who owned the lodge at Tashigaon. We saw his wife and their elder daughter Doma doing the cores. There was a lawn beside another Lodge which overlooked the valley. We went there in search of some photographic views and were not disappointed.

*Danda-Kharka, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

Autumn stamped it’s impact in terms of varied colors of the foliage. The forests were lightened up with crimson, yellow, brown and other shades along with green. In the lawn, a mat was spread out and a little girl sat on it. She was engrossed in her drawing pencils, paper & other artifacts. There was a doll sitting beside. Her attention were divided between the drawing pencils and the doll. I tried to entice her into a pose for photograph but was flatly denied. Dhananjoy succeeded where I failed. He had the necessary skills and was capable of convincing her into a photo shoot. She had all the time and grace in the world to act as a model for many photographs. We got another chance to have her company when we stayed at the lodge on our way back.

Walking after lunch isn’t easy, at least to start with. Especially when there’s hiking involved. We were told that the slopes would be gentler. It was true initially. The bends came after longer duration. That changed soon and the trail turned into a path fraught with frequent switchbacks. Switchbacks are on trails where the need is to gain altitude briskly within short aerial distances.

*En-route Khongma*, *picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

I started keeping short milestones. Instead of thinking about the remaining path, I started thinking of attaining the immediate. For example, the next switchback bend. The idea was to reach there, stand, and take a few deep breaths. Then, fix the gaze towards the next milestone. Soon I was traveling alone as Dhananjoy & Kunal moved ahead. I could see them as well as others ascending the trail from my position below.

A series of switchbacks continued till the ridge at the top. One couldn’t see what lay beyond that. That makes one feel that the top is the zenith and things would ease after that. In other words, either an adulating trail or a descent would follow. I call this phenomenon as “Altitude illusion”. What could lie beyond the point where the hill seems to end, apart from a flat track or a descent? Only after one reaches near the point, the subsequent hike reveals itself. Earlier it used to give a depressing feeling. That’s why I’ve stopped thinking about it.

In the meantime, the slope was getting steeper and I was forced to create milestones even before switchbacks. With every switchback, the lodges of Danda Kharka became smaller and so did Tashigaon (which was still visible). We reached another set of houses. These were mere dwellings and places to keep domestic animals like sheep and yak. We quenched our thirst, popped in some lozenges in our mouths and resumed our hike. We repeated the same pattern of interspersed hikes and halts. Eventually, we reached a place where there was a stupa with prayer flags. I noticed that the trees have reduced. The remaining rhododendron trees have also dwarfed. That told us that we were nearing our destination. It was about 2.30 PM.

We rested for sometime leaning against the wall. The rays of the afternoon sun started taking a golden hue. We saw glimpses of the distant Himalayan peaks. They were partially shielded by light clouds. After sometime, the slope became gradual and walking became an evening stroll. The trail now meandered through bushes. We reached a flat top where there were two lodges. Our destined lodge was a few steps beyond that point. Now that destination was in sight, we focused on the surrounding bushes. We also looked at the valley and the distant mountains that formed the silhouette.

The trail moved ahead along the hill. We saw it rising beyond our destined Lodge. It went all the way up to a top where there was a watch tower. It appeared as a small toy even lesser in size than a matchbox. We have an extra stay at Khongma for acclimatization. That viewpoint was chosen as a destination for the morrow for sunrise views.

The name of our lodge at Khongma was “Makalu Danfe Lodge”. “Danfe” is the name for the bird Monal in Nepalese language. It is a very colorful bird, found at higher altitudes of the Himalayas. They can be found in the Indian states of Himachal Pradesh & Uttarakhand. We also saw it near Namche Bazar. It is designated as the national bird of Nepal. It turned out that this lodge too belonged to the same owner from Tashigaon. It was being run by his son, a Sherpa boy named Ming. The room was not as good as the one at Tashigaon, but it had the basics right. The lodge was two-storied. The dining space & living rooms were at the top floor. A wooden staircase at the center connected to the ground floor which had the toilets. After settling in our rooms, we went out and sat in the open, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. We called our homes using my international roaming pack. The network was very feeble and disappeared quickly. The evening was spent playing cards. The French group (who were targeting the Sherpani Col pass), also stayed with us. We spent time chatting with members of the group. Their porters were very jovial. After dinner, we went under the blankets. The clock alarm was set at 3.30 AM for the next morning. We were sleeping at 3500 m.

Tashigaon Acclimatization

The Barun valley – Tashigaon

The starting point Khongma

20th October

Food options at the lodge weren’t great. We ate noodles at dinner last night. They were thick. We had challenges to gulp them down our throats. Breakfast was somewhat better. Yet, Seduwa offered the last chance to charge my camera batteries. The next available choice was at Phemathang, which we reached much later, that too, unplanned. But that’s a story to be told later. After Raju settled the bills, we assembled in front of the lodge for a group photograph along with Anil, Manoj & Raju with all our trekking gears. Another was taken at the entrance gate of the Makalu Barun National park.

Going by the plan, we would return here after another 10 days. We started hiking up the stairs amid bright sunshine, a clear sky & sweeping greenery. Seduwa is a relatively large village. While moving up the slopes through the alleys amid the terraced fields, we watched the village life. People were gradually getting on with their daily routine. The bright green crop of millet had a hue of yellow.

Children were either playing at the fields or on their way to school or some work. Some villagers were in a huddle of gossip. In one of the village homes, we saw a barber at work. He wrapped his client in a sheet while his scissors were working through the hair. In the balcony of yet another home, a harvest of ripened corns were hung up for drying in the sunshine. The trail went up amid the serpentine lanes, alleys & fields.

*Seduwa, Picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

At every junction, the locals were in huddles, engaging in leisurely conversations. No one seemed to be in a hurry. At onetime we went past a volleyball court. It was a small strip of flat ground split into halves by a net. It was slightly larger than a terraced field, surrounded by sloping hills covered by thick forests. It was probably the most picturesque volleyball court ever seen in this world. When we passed beside it on our way back, it came up as a nostalgic recollection.

The trail gradually moved upwards. We crossed multiple streams flowing across our path, some by careful tip toeing over boulders, others by bridges. Then we came at the base of a set of stairs. After ascending them (there were many of these), we reached another village. A group of 15 -17 trekkers were resting at a tea house. We chatted with them for a while. They were a European group with many aged people. While coming along we saw cultivation of cardamom. These plants are abundant in the Eastern Himalayan region. We saw them in Sikkim. This region of Nepal is not very far from there. Hence, it wasn’t surprising that it had a similar cultivation pattern. The flora & fauna is also similar. For example, the elusive animal Red Panda is known to live in the forests of the Singalila range. This range is in West Bengal & Sikkim. It can also be found in the forests of the Makalu Barun National Park. One can as well find a goldmine but not see a Red Panda in the wild. Freshly harvested cardamoms were laid over the roof village homes for drying.

We now moved along a narrow path through the hills, barely enough for a single person to walk. Thick bushes closed in from both sides. It was obvious that we were taking a short cut. The trail moved up and down, unlike the wide track which we came across earlier. I now realized that the place where we left the wide track to ascend the staircase, was a junction. The trail now moved down and merged with the main track. Once again we were on level ground (as far as it can be, in a mountainous area). But instead of villages, we were now walking amid forests.

Raju & Dhananjoy spotted trees of wild berries. The fruits were ripe & orange. There were thick bunches of these fruits that hung from the trees. They were up for grabs and we feasted on them. I recalled seeing locals selling these in and around streets of Pokhara. The forests acquired different colors of foliage. I remembered that it was autumn, which is known as fall in Western countries in temperate zones. Forests in such climates acquire colors in this season, famously known as “fall color” in the Western world. We kept strolling along the trail amid such wonderful colors. Thick bunches of ripe berries kept drawing our attention towards the bushes and slowed down our speed. No one was worried because the hike for the day was supposed to last only for about 5 hours. We were expecting to reach our destination Tashigaon before lunch.

Tashigaon is a Sherpa village. Just like the neighboring district of Solu-Khumbu, members of the Sherpa community also inhabit the higher altitudes of this area. The word ‘Tashi’ in the Tibetan language (from which the Sherpa language derives) means good fortune. The Sherpas often greet others by the phrase ‘Tashi delek” which conveys well wishes to others. The phrase is often heard not just in the Sherpa inhabited villages. It is also common in other high altitude areas of Nepal that border with Tibet. It is very commonly heard in the Khumbu region. We stayed at a lodge in Tengboche. Tengboche is the next halt after Namche Bazar on the Everest base camp route. The lodge was named “Tashi delek”. This phrase is widespread in the higher areas of Manaslu and Annapurna. You can hear it in places like Samagaon or Manang. Most of the Sherpas live in the districts of Eastern Nepal e.g. Dolakha, Sindhupalchok, Rasuwa, Solu-Khumbu (the Everest area), Sankhuwasabha (the Makalu area) & Taplejung (the Kanchenjunga area). Some also live in the Helambu region. It is to the North of the Kathmandu valley. This area is near the Lang Tang area. Sherpas can also be found in Bhutan, Sikkim & Darjeeling. The Sherpas originated from nomads who came from Tibet. They settled in the Himalayas of the Everest region. They are a mountainous tribe accustomed to living in high altitude areas. Life in these areas is tough and required them to toil hard for the limited agricultural activities that were possible. They often herded yaks and the grazing of these animals required them to find pastures in the high Himalayas. It is this lifestyle that adapts them to higher altitudes. Their immense strength and natural ability make them indispensable in many mountaineering expeditions, where they serve as guides and porters. They can breathe in rarefied air. Without their support, many climbers can’t even dream of reaching the higher camps of mountain expeditions, let alone summiting them. Many of the Sherpas are legendary mountaineers holding astonishing records of ascents. We met few of them in the lodges of this route. In the early days, all of the Everest expeditions happened from the northern routes as Nepal was inaccessible to foreigners. Since most of these expeditions were organized by the British, they all started from Darjeeling. It’s the British who started the tradition of hiring Sherpas as porters and guides. This caused many Sherpas to migrate to Darjeeling in search of work as expedition porters. Even Tenzing Norgay was one of them.

While walking, I suddenly noticed a moving object wriggling through the breadth of the track. I drew attention of the others. It was a baby snake. Dhananjoy was quick to capture that movement in a video. A closer look at it revealed a small hood which it was occasionally flapping. That told us that it was of a poisonous breed. We thanked nature that it was still a baby.

Courtesy, Dhananjoy De

After walking for some more time, we took a short detour through a village and regained the main track. We waited beside a house for our porters to catch-up with us. After that point the track moved up a little and the homes of Tashigaon started appearing.

We went through the terraced fields and narrow alleys besides the houses. A few lodges were visible. While on our way, we were scouted by two little sisters. They kept pleading to stay at their tea house. We had our gaze on another lodge but their insistence and their little age tilted our judgment in their favor. One of them also mentioned that the other lodge was expecting almost 20 guests. It turned out later that this was a false statement aimed at creating a bias in their favor. Nevertheless, the girls appeared innocent. The elder sister’s name was Doma and the younger was named Dzangmu. They quickly navigated the twisting trail and led us to their lodge. Little did we know, that this decision would have a crucial impact on the trek’s itinerary. On one hand we could say it impacted us badly. But on the other, we could also say that it saved us from bad weather.

The lodge was located on an elevated ground. There was a kitchen and a dining space on one side. On the other side there were some newly created wooden rooms. They were clean, airy (a little too bit of that, as Dhananjoy found later), wide enough beds with thick blankets. The fluffy blankets almost embraced us, but I resisted the temptation. The main trail went between the kitchen and rooms. Beyond the rooms, a grassy lawn stretched wide open as a balcony that overlooked the valley.

A few wooden trunks were laid in the lawn which acted as chairs. Another one was placed in front, acting as a table. We stretched our legs and sat on these amid bright sunshine. The surrounding hills wore a thick vegetation. We enjoyed a few beers in the perfect weather. While our phones didn’t work, but local phone calls were possible using a landline. They charged 50 NPR for each call. We informed our respective homes about our safe arrival. We were tempted by prospects of a mutton curry, but that turned out to be non edible. We finished the rest of the lunch. After that, Dhananjoy mustered enough energy for an afternoon village stroll but me and Kunal preferred to rest our legs. Sitting in the lawn in perfect leisure, I dosed off. When I woke up, I found the afternoon sun was showering its rays on the distant hills. The sun illuminated the clouds above them.

Kunal’s seat was empty. I entered the room and found him asleep, wrapped under the comfort of blanket. That tempted me to follow suit. When I woke up, the sun was already down, though there was light in the sky. In the evening, we went to the dining place. We managed to lay our hands over a deck of cards. Our porter Manoj was taught by us to play some games and he joined us. This was to repeat for the rest of the trail. The walls of the dining room were decorated with many photographs of expeditions. The owner of the lodge featured in all of them. There were photographs from Everest, Makalu, K2 and many other 8 thousanders. There was also a rack with mountaineering gear on display. It was obvious that the owner of the lodge is an accomplished mountaineer and has many summits to his credit. He has climbed Mt Everest & others on multiple occasions. The most recent was Mt Makalu in the current year. In the current year, a record was created when multiple siblings climbed Mt Makalu on the same day and the lodge owner is one of them. Dinner was served with noodles and chicken soup. While the taste was good, but in the name of chicken mostly bones were served. We still enjoyed it. We were happy knowing that on our way down, we would have an entire day at Tashigaon. We looked ahead to it but that never happened. As night drew down, the cold increased. The wind also intensified. It passed through open cracks in the wooden wall of our room. That wall was erected recently. Dhananjoy tried to draw our attention to the sky studded with stars and Constellations but sleep closed our eyelids down. We were sleeping at 2178 m.

The starting point Khongma

The Barun valley – reaching the starting point

Kathmandu Tashigaon

19th October

As discussed among ourselves, I woke up at 4 AM and went for a bath. Dhananjoy and Kunal were to follow after me. It was a pattern that was followed throughout the trip except for a few exceptions. Warm water was not yet available. The water heating system was based on solar power. The trick was to let out significant volumes of water (more than a bucket). After that, lukewarm water started flowing. While all that was underway, I completed shaving, probably the last chance to do before we returned to Kathmandu. We left the hotel premises, hired a cab and started for the Pasupatinath shrine. There was a slight chill in the air as the vehicle went through the streets of Kathmandu in the darkness. As we entered the temple complex, the familiar sounds of bells and the fragrance of incense and candles greeted us. I’m not a religious person. However, I enjoy the serene atmosphere of this temple complex. I find the cremation ground at the back of the temple particularly peaceful. The ones who leave this world, are brought here for their last rites on the banks of the Bagmati river. Their lifeless bodies get bathed in the waters of Bagmati before they are taken to the cremation pyres.

*The cremation ground, Pasupatinath* *shrine*, *Kathmandu, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After visiting the shrine, we crossed over the Bagmati to its other bank. Stair cases go up towards a park full of trees and more temples. We ascended them to reach a top. We had cups of teas at a tea house there. Scores of people were on their morning stroll, some even engaged in exercises. A barrage of monkeys followed the pedestrians, many of whom gave them food. Observing such incidents, it was clear that the monkeys expect this every morning. They are well acquainted with the human givers. After a quick look at the watch, we returned the same way. A cab ported us back to our hotel at Thamel. We headed for the breakfast table for the buffet. A lot was on the offering – breads, butter, jam, puri-sabzi, omelets of different variations, tea, coffee, fruit juice etc. It was a problem of plenty and we ate more than usual.

At 8 AM, a cab entered the gates and Raju alighted from it. That was a pleasant sight and it drove out a lot of skepticism from my mind. After loading our main baggage at the rear, we entered inside with our daypacks. Off we went for the domestic terminal of the Kathmandu airport. The streets bathed in bright sunshine as we followed almost the same route for the Pasupatinath shrine. The pleasant weather made me dose off. I woke up just in time as we entered the gates of the domestic terminal. It appeared the same as we saw it during our Everest base camp trek. It appeared more like a bus terminus than an airport.

*Check-in counters, domestic terminal, Kathmandu airport*

The small baggage check-in counters don’t have the sophisticated conveyer belt system. Airline employees accept the baggage. They dump the bags on to a trolley. A carrier drags the trolley over the runway to the aircraft. After baggage check-in, we waited in the departure gate fixing our gaze to the electronic screen of flight departures. Flights were leaving for various destinations in Nepal. These include Pokhara, Biratnagar, and Bhadrapur, which is the base for the Kanchenjunga trek. Additionally, flights were going to Nepalgunj. This city is a gateway to the areas of Western Nepal. Flights were also going to Luk-La. Luk-La is the base for the Everest region. Our destination was Tumlingtar. The flight was to depart at 9:40 AM. That kept getting delayed, first by 20 minutes, then by another 15 minutes. I inquired at the information desk and was told that the incoming flight from Tumlingtar was delayed. Apparently, heavy air traffic wasn’t allowing it to land and the pilot was taxiing in the air! They also showed me the flight map. The plane already made two concentric circles and now was heading towards the runway. We hoped for announcements, but suddenly, the electronic screen showed the flight status as “boarding”. I hurried up the rest and we headed for the bus. A ride took us to the waiting plane with an open belly. The trolley carrying the baggage was already there and the airline staff were loading them into the plane. Even after we boarded the plane, announcements were made for further delays. I kept checking the time. A delay would affect our arrival in Seduwa, which is the starting point for our trek. It takes 7-8 hours by drive to reach Seduwa from Tumlingtar. Add to that, another hour in between for baggage reclaim. You also need to scout for the vehicle. According to inputs received from fellow passengers, one may also need to break the journey at Khandbari. Direct transit might not be possible.

Flight to Tumlingtar

Finally, we took off at 12 PM. As the flight took to the air, the Himalayas were up for display from close quarters. This time it was the Everest, Lhotse and our destination, Makalu, who made their appearances.

After about 30 minutes, we started our descent to Tumlingtar. The lush green valley bathed in bright sunshine. The hills had a thick green cover with interspersed with terraced cultivation fields. The fields had a golden yellow hue formed by ripe paddy and millet. Then came the wide and serpentine expanse of the Arun river. All along, the size of the picture kept increasing. As soon as we crossed the Arun, the plane touched the Tumlingtar runway. Its speed decreased after it reached the other end of the runway. It then turned around and came to a halt after a short stroll. We alighted to the runway and stood outside to soak in the beauty of this small air strip.

*Tumlingtar airport, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

The Tumlingtar airport (rather air strip) has a small runway surrounded by green hills on all sides. It is an important gateway to the Sankhuwasabha district. Generally, there are 1-2 flights in a day between Kathmandu and Tumlingtar, but it varies based on traffic. It could even be zero (as we found during our return) based on weather conditions. Occasionally, they also increase the operations (especially during festival times). They are operated by Budhha air.

*Tumlingtar, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After some photo shoots at the air strip, we headed for the terminal. There were just a few rooms. Raju went out in search of a vehicle while we waited for our baggage to arrive. After sometime, we boarded a vehicle which would take us to Khandbari. From thereon, we need to scout for another ride. Apparently, a lot of vehicles were off the road because of Bhai duj (a festival where sisters pray for the well being of their brothers). We headed to the parking lot and boarded the vehicle. It started its journey through the low areas of the Arun valley. The road was lined by dense forests on both sides. Villages appeared with terraced fields filled with the ripened crop of paddy or millet waiting to be harvested. It was full of greenery as we moved up the serpentine roads. We stopped at Khandbari for lunch. It was an important town on this route. As we moved into the hotel, Raju got in touch with a few drivers for our subsequent commute. After lunch, we heard that our luggage was already in another vehicle. This vehicle would take us to Seduwa. I purchased an international roaming pack from my cellphone provider. I informed my home about our progress and embarked on our post-lunch journey. The road condition was still good and the vehicle made decent progress. A full stomach and the serene greenery made me dose off once again. We halted at a place called Num at around 5 PM to have some tea. The golden due of the evening reflected off the distant clouds. This indicated that the sun was on its downward journey.

After Num, the road condition deteriorated. Though it was wide enough, but the potholes increased along the surface. After sometime, the paved road disappeared and was reduced to a dusty and rocky surface. With that, the comfort of ride also disappeared. This kept true to the facts known about this route. This applies to many routes in Nepal where vehicles ply, but paved roads don’t follow them. In earlier itineraries for Makalu base camp, Num was the starting point for hikes. Though uncomfortable, this bumpy ride would save us at least two days of walk. While this gives some relief for the current trek, but it is also an indication of the ever dwindling trekking routes in different areas of Nepal. Almost in every circuit, treks have shortened by 2-4 days because of road construction. For example, it takes 2 days lesser today than what it took for us in the Manaslu circuit. We kept plodding on. After sometime, darkness set in and the headlights came on. We realized that we were traveling beside a fast moving river torrent and asked the driver to stop the ongoing music. That’s when the roaring sound of the Arun river reached our ears. In the darkness, its roar gave a chilly feeling as the driver negotiated the bumpy road. There were many switchbacks where the driver had to go back and forth using reverse gear to negotiate the bends. The road was so rough. Many times our heads bumped with the ceiling. We had to keep a watch. The road seemed never ending and we kept gaining altitude. After many such switchbacks, we finally reached Seduwa. The last ride before the vehicle came to a halt seemed vertical (well, almost). I saluted the driver’s skill as without it, its impossible to drive a vehicle on such terrains. We stayed at the first available lodge at Seduwa. It was basic, but had the necessaries. At least it had facilities to charge our batteries and phones. We’d find this rarely in the lodges at higher altitudes. Wi-Fi wasn’t available and thanks to the international roaming pack, we could inform our homes about our arrival. We changed to our home wears and moved to the dining area. This is where we met other groups who were embarking on the trail. There was a French group, who were embarking on the Sherpani col pass trek. This involved traveling to the Makalu base camp and moving further up through multiple passes (more than 6000 m) to reach the Chukhung village. From there on, one enters the Solu-Khumbu region and descends via Tengboche and Luk-La. It was a group which would accompany us to Khongma. We got friendly with the porters and guide of that team. We also met our own porters, Anil and Manoj. They were from villages in the regions further down from Seduwa. They were two brothers (aged 22 and 19 years, respectively) and appeared simple and jovial. They’d prove to be vital cogs in this trek’s wheel. The next day’s trek was supposed to last about 3 hours, taking us to the next halt, Tashigaon. We reclined to our beds under comfortable blankets. We were sleeping at approximately 1500 m.

Kathmandu Tashigaon

The Barun valley – reaching Kathmandu

The build up The starting point

18th October

It was Diwali. Working migrants who live in the Delhi area were on the move. They were heading towards their homes to spend time with their families. This is an auspicious time of the year and the greatest festival of North India. During this time, we were also leaving Delhi. In fact, we were departing from the country and heading towards the Nepalese capital. It meant that we were competing with the rush. Even in the early hours of the day, one expects heavy traffic towards the exit points from the city, i.e. railway stations or airports. For international flights, one must arrive at least three hours in advance. This time frame allows for security procedures, which are typically more exhaustive than those for domestic flights. Though our flight was at 11:45, I started from home at 6. Dhananjoy started from Lucknow on the previous evening and reached a friend’s place in the morning. He was on his way to airport via metro. I also decided to use metro railway to travel to terminal 1. After my wife dropped me at the starting station, it took about 45 minutes to reach there. A shuttle transported me to terminal 3 in about 15 minutes. I met Dhananjoy and Kunal there. For some reason, web check-in was disallowed for Dhananjoy, so he had to complete it at the terminal. After baggage check-ins, it was time for security checks. As usual, we had to unravel a lot of our belongings only to reassemble them again. After arriving at the boarding gate, we finished our breakfast with chicken sandwiches provided by my wife, Anindita. Dhananjoy ensured window seats for all of us.

As the flight took off, Delhi turned into a city map, highways turned into lanes, vehicles reduced to toys. We focused our gaze on the Northern horizon. We hoped to view the Himalayas. It was the very reason for booking window side seats. It started with the Uttarakhand Himalayan peaks. The view of the awe-inspiring Dhaulagiri massif and the Annapurna range indicated that we’ve entered the Nepalese skies. We glided past the major regions of Nepalese Himalayas: Dhaulagiri, Annapurna, Manaslu, Ganesh Himal, and finally Langtang. Then the aircraft started its descent towards the Tribhuvan international airport.

*Kathmandu valley from plane, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

After landing, we descended the airstairs to exit the aircraft. Standing on the runway in the bright afternoon sunshine, I looked around. It was surrounded by hills on all sides. Snow capped peaks of the Langtang region were visible beyond the hills on the northern horizon. A bus carried us to the arrival terminal.

A statue of Budhha greeted the arriving tourists. We posed for photographs in front of it. Immigration formalities in Nepal are one of the simplest that can be found in the world, especially for Indian citizens. In fact there are dedicated counters for Indian passport holders. While traveling in a cab to Thamel, we went past the famous Pasupatinath shrine. It’s golden top, styled like a pagoda, glittered in the afternoon sunshine. Durbar residency is a decent hotel with comfortable rooms. After getting fresh, we sat over glasses of beer at the hotel’s bar. We spoke to Raju and asked him to meet at our hotel in the evening. Since it was still early afternoon, we ventured out to visit Swayambhunath. The breeze was cool at the top of hill at Swayambhu. The views are all familiar as it was the third visit for me. The bird’s eye view of the Kathmandu valley from the top is awe inspiring.

*Kathmandu valley from Swayambhu top, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

*Swayambhunath, Kathmandu, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

The gymnastics of the monkey brigade is ever enchanting. One can spend an entire afternoon by watching their antics. We then went to Basantapur Durbar square. The ancient wooden temples are mesmerizing. The Shwet and Kal-Bhairav idols captivate with their presence. The scores of burning incense sticks and candles transport one back hundreds of years. This was to the age when the Kathmandu valley was ruled by local kings. This was before the Gorkha ruler Prithvi Narayan Shah attacked and conquered the area. He leaves behind a mixed legacy. Some credit him for consolidating the Nepalese kingdom by defeating the warring chieftains. Others loathe him for his cruelty towards the defeated forces.

*Shwet-Bhairav, Basantapur Durbar Square, Kathmandu*

*Kal bhairav, Kathmandu, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

The Shah dynasty occupies a significant position in Nepalese history. After Prithvi Narayan Shah, the dynasty was immersed into a succession struggle between warring factions conspiring against each other. This mayhem was capitalized by the powerful prime ministers, the Ranas. They took control of affairs and reduced the Shah kings to puppets. They continued their iron grip over Nepal for centuries. The Ranas maintained a warm relationship with the colonial rulers of India, to the south of their border. They even stood by the British East India Company to help them suppress the revolt of 1857. When the British left India, almost abruptly in 1947, the situation changed dramatically. At that time, Nepal was ruled by its prime minister Mohan Shamsher Jung Bahadur Rana. The king Tribhuvan was it’s ceremonial ruler (who was crowned at the age of five). Inspired by the ideals of the Indian National Congress, the Nepalese Congress party was formed and it started it’s struggle for Democracy in Nepal. But they were suppressed by the Ranas with a strong hand. Tribhuvan sensed an opportunity and started liaising with them, promising to free them from the autocratic rule of the Ranas. He escaped from the Royal palace and took refuge in the Indian embassy. From there he was flown to New Delhi, where Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of independent India greeted him. Nehru was in favor of a democratic Nepal, but under the watchful guidance of the monarch. The Rana was forced to relinquish the rule and an accord was signed where Nepal was turned into a semi democracy with power shared between a democratically elected government headed by a prime minister and the monarch. Tribhuvan returned to Nepal, a hero, seen as the king who ushered in democracy to his country. It could have been a happy ending for Nepalese politics from here on, but Tribhuvan’s successor, King Mahendra had other ideas. He abolished the Parliament and introduced a Panchayat system where the Panchayat heads directly reported to him. Discontent started brewing against his policies. Rural Nepal witnessed the Maoist insurgency. Protests erupted on the streets of Kathmandu. After the sudden demise of Mahendra, Birendra became the king. He inherited not just the throne, but the political turmoil too, much of which was a result of his predecessor’s repressive policies. Despite relentless loss of civilian lives due to Maoist insurgency, the Army was not called upon. It is said that much of it had to do with Birendra’s reluctance to allow the army to fire upon his own countrymen. He took the unprecedented step of relinquishing much of his power. The power then shifted to the elected government. In doing so, he effectively converted himself into a constitutional monarch. But some say, this neither pleased the insurgents on the streets, much less the royal family members, many of whom favored his father’s policies. Finally, on the fatal night of 1st June, 2001, he was assassinated at the Royal Narayanhithi palace along with his queen and other members of the family by his heir Deependra who later shot himself. Many reasons and conspiracy theories float around, but the official record puts the responsibility on Prince Deependra. As the funeral pyres burnt at the cremation ground on the banks of the Bagmati river behind the Pasupatinath shrine, a mythological legend surfaced from the rears of history.

It is said that Prithvi Narayan Shah, the founder of the Shah dynasty, once met with the saint Gorakhnath (believed to be an incarnation of Lord Shiva). He somehow ended up enraging the saint who cursed him and predicted the destruction of the dynasty during the reign of the 11th Shah king. Birendra was indeed the 11th. After this massacre, younger brother Gyanendra succeeded him. He too, like Mahendra, tried to dissolve the Parliament under the pretence of saving the country from rampant corruption of the political class. This proved to be the final blow to the monarchy and he was forced to abdicate. Monarchy was abolished in Nepal. The country turned into a secular democracy. The monarchs, who once were viewed as incarnations of the revered Hindu God Vishnu, now moved into oblivion. But since then, the political class plunged into one controversy after another, corruption ran rampant. In a few years, Nepal saw approximately 20 prime ministers come and go. This led to the public protests led by the young generation (called gen-Z) in the month of September 2025 (just a month before our departure). Police firing led to the deaths of 20 young people. Angry mob burnt down every possible signs of the current establishment. It forced the incumbent government to resign. These developments threatened to disrupt our plans but finally, sense prevailed. Things calmed down with a caretaker government taking over under the leadership of a former chief justice of the supreme court. Fresh elections are slated for early next year.

Anyways, let’s get back to our story. After returning to the hotel, we tried to call up Raju but he didn’t pick up the phone. We tried this multiple times while rearranging our baggage (to leave some elements at Kathmandu). Raju’s silence increased our tensions. Normally, we expect a guide to have a conversation about the plan. They should fix the timing of departure. A guide should also give a sense of responsibility and purpose. We started thinking about alternative courses of action. Ideas of reporting to the police also crossed our minds as it was now 8.30 PM. This was late night by the standards of a hill station. Chances of Raju’s appearance seemed to dwindle by the minute. All our payments were already made and we didn’t know about his address. We almost gave up hopes and let our fates rest upon his mercy. Then, suddenly, late at the night, his face appeared. As if a fever subsided from our bodies after running high temperatures for hours! Apparently, his phone discharged while he was busy printing our T-shirts. Nevertheless, all’s well that ends well. Raju would arrive at the hotel with a hired cab. We would start for the airport no later than 8 AM. It was already planned to visit the Pasupatinath shrine at 4 AM in the morning. I went to sleep with mixed feelings. On one hand I was relieved that the trip wasn’t jeopardized. On the other hand, Raju’s casual attitude didn’t bode well for the upcoming days. Did he make the necessary arrangements as claimed by him or there could be unpleasant surprises along the way? Little did we know then that many such fears will turn out to be true. Because of these thoughts, sleep eluded me for long. It was our last comfortable stay before embarking on a fortnight long trip, but I couldn’t enjoy it. The route wasn’t known to be as developed as other parts of Nepal. It demanded more experience and preparedness from a guide but Raju’s attitude seemed on the contrary. I hope he turns up the next day on time! Was it wise to not engage a tour operator? We were planning a trek that lies in a desolate corner of Eastern Nepal. All my thoughts turned to the negative territory. Finally, some factor in my brain resisted. There wasn’t any point pondering over something yet to materialize. It’s wise to cross the bridges as they come along. Why not live in the present? Why not enjoy the moment of being away from work for a fortnight, away from the corporate rat race? Didn’t I wait long enough to embark on the Makalu trail? An itinerary which wasn’t possible to attempt till a few years ago, simply because of the duration, now seems within our reach! Why not grab the opportunities with both the hands (rather limbs as well). The Himalayas don’t beckon so easily. Whatever comes our way, will get tackled and we’ll be back at the same hotel after a fortnight with Makalu base camp added as a feather to our illustrious cap!

The build up The starting point