Indranil

30th April, 2016

It was a Saturday. I woke up early in the morning, got prepared and was ready to be picked up by Ranjan da, with whom I was to travel to Indira Gandhi International airport terminal 3 for our flight to Kathmandu. When we boarded the car, my mother uttered silent prayers. My wife, Anindita and daughter Srijita bade goodbye (I was to miss her birthday bash which was to be held on 2^nd May). Ranjan da went ahead with his check in for his Royal Nepal Airlines flight, while I waited for Dhananjoy to arrive. I had a tension about the amount of cash I was carrying with me (majority of it was in denominations of Rs 100). We’ve read mixed opinions about the legitimate amount of cash that we could carry. Not many international ATM/Debit/Credit cards operate in Nepal (the customer care of all banks with whom I held accounts, said their cards would operate seamlessly everywhere except Nepal or Bhutan) – a strange complication in a country so close to our culture and philosophy, where we, as Indians, don’t even require tourist visas to travel. However, everything went well and we were finally on board the aircraft. Dhananjoy was a tad disappointed when he heard that we would be staying at lodges throughout the trail and there won’t be any opportunity to camp anywhere! Well, that’s what you have to forego in Nepal, especially on this trail, dubbed as the “trekking highway” by some, considering the earthly comforts one can get, otherwise absent at places that are much less remote elsewhere in The Himalayas.

Kathmandu! The word took me back to the days when I was in class V. I went to Kathmandu with my parents. All I remember from that trip was the sumptuous breakfast and meals at the Yak and Yeti hotel, the notorious monkeys and bulls at the Pashupatinath temple and the big eyes painted on the top of Swayambhunath temple about which people say that it has witnessed all ups and downs of the Kathmandu valley in front of its eyes. How is the city coming out of the devastation wrought on its face by nature? Amidst all those thoughts, our aircraft landed at the Tribhuvan International Airport which nestles amidst the surrounding hills. As I and Dhananjoy waited for our luggage, we conveyed the news of our arrival at our respective homes. We were to arrive in distinct groups, with Ranjan da to be the first one to land via Nepal Airlines, followed by two of us via Indigo and finally, Niladri and Siddhartha da to arrive in the evening (they started from Kolkata, a day earlier and reached Raxaul in the morning, from where they took a jeep for Kathmandu). We met a “garlanded” Ranjan da outside the airport (an expected custom for anyone who arrives as Tej Gurung’s trekking guest). This was a fact I knew prior, going by Facebook posts of all trekking teams that are guided by Tej’s organization. They would all be received with garlands and scarves, followed by a photograph with a “Nepal Alternative Treks and Expeditions” banner that read “I am in Nepal now” in bold. All that to make way to a Facebook post by Tej Gurung, in an effort to make the trekkers of the world (Tej’s potential clients) aware that Nepal was now safe enough to travel.

As soon as we exited the airport, we came across the Pashupatinath shrine that looked like a pagoda with a golden dome (as most of the temples in Nepal do). It brought mixed emotions ranging from childhood memories of the temple where I saw myself going to it with my parents with a puja carefully guarding it from being confiscated by surrounding barrage of monkeys. It also had a fairly large number of bulls, who were fed regularly with care by the temple priests who viewed them as direct incarnations of “Nandi”, one of the famous disciples of Lord Shiva (aka Lord Pashupatinath). Then came the dreadful thought of the funerals of the ill-fated king Virendra and his family who were killed in a mad shooting spree at the royal palace. The vehicle meandered through the maze of crowded streets and lanes of Thamel, the tourist district of Kathmandu and we finally arrived at hotel Tayoma (our accommodation for the night). The entire route didn’t throw up any signs of destruction from the earthquake, which was a surprise and I still couldn’t make out if I were to rejoice or we were travelling through an area somehow unaffected by it, but how could that be possible?

After keeping our luggage, we went out hunting for lunch at the surrounding restaurants. Steaming Thukpas at a Tibetan restaurant did the job for the day. We were a bit anxious about the fact that our hotel was changed at the last-minute and we had no way to convey that to Niladri and Siddhartha da who were supposed to reach by road in the evening and they did not have a working mobile SIM. Tej Gurung came to meet us along with the guide Raju Gurung, who would accompany us starting the next day. As Tej had other groups to handle on the same day, he started off with an introduction to the trek and its nuances. He re-iterated the itinerary detailing out the schedule for every day. I asked whether it was possible to visit Kalapathhar in the afternoon since it offers the most majestic sunset views of the Everest range but the guide rightly advised to take that decision when the time comes as it often turns cloudy in the afternoon with strong winds blowing the Kalapathhar top. In the midst of our discussion, Niladri and Sidhhartha da arrived at the hotel. It was a refreshing feeling to see them in a “technically foreign” land! There was a time when a single day didn’t go by without a chat with him and other friends from my native place, but now work has split us physically by miles and my occasional trips to home and these travels are the only options of reunion and every bit of it seems insufficient!

We made our balance payments to Tej while he shared the air tickets for Lukla, trekking permits and cards to enter Sagarmatha National Park, which would cover the majority of this route. All of these would reside with Raju, the guide. Tej had some advice for us. While we could order any food item (food & tea/beverage for the main three courses during each day were to be included in the cost of the trek), we should try to avoid wastage as much as possible. It made sense and it acquired more significance as we saw porters carrying back wrenching loads up the trail for our comfort. The cost too, multiplied with the gaining altitude.

The evening was spent in the market to get our down jackets and sleeping bags from an equipment store. It was warm (rather hot) in Kathmandu. Wasn’t it supposed to be a hill station? I saw a lot of residents going around with masks covering their face. I was taken aback by that sight, in a valley amidst The Himalayas! This is a sight we’re used to in places like Delhi. Thamel is crowded with shops of tour and trekking operators with their windows filled with photographs of major Himalayan peaks from different ranges. Majority of them were panoramic views of the Everest range along with the Khumbu glacier as viewed from Kalapathhar top. The next in reckoning were the ones from the Annapurna range from central Nepal. After the gears were sorted, we exchanged some of the Indian currency into Nepalese and got hold of a local Nepalese SIM card. Any gear needed during the trek was suggested to be bought from here, primarily because of cost. We thought we had sufficient till one pointed out “Sticks? Can we do without them”? We bought one for each member. These were not made of ordinary bamboo, but were a combination of wood and metal that could be folded to adjust the height. Some even had a compass. Our evening roam concluded with dining at an Indian restaurant with familiar kormas & pulaos.

I was constantly obsessed with the size of my backpack. Is it too big to carry on my back for 14 days? Do I need all that has been stuffed in it? A quick re-prioritization led to stripping out a few clothes. Others did the same and all of that were combined in a bag to be left at the hotel. Batteries and phones were getting charged as this was the last chance to do so without extra cost. Up there on the trail, cost for charging could go up to Rs 100-200 per hour (all currency should be assumed to be Nepalese unless stated otherwise).

As I settled in my bed, my thoughts were occupied with the next day’s flight to Lukla. There are ample records (texts, images and videos) on the internet about the inherent dangers and uncertainties of flights to Lukla. After sometime, I had to shove off the thoughts to have some sleep going.

The preparation

Lukla to Thadekoshi

In the land of the Sherpas – the preparation

Kathmandu

As I said in my previous post, interest was building up for a few years. But it took a big blow with the devastating earthquake hitting Nepal in the early summers of 2015. The horrific pictures of suffering that emerged from Nepal made the thought of going there impossible for at least another 4-5 years, or so it appeared at that time. During the first three months of 2015, I got in touch with Mr Tej Bahadur Gurung, the proprietor of Nepal Alternative Treks and Expeditions and he landed up as my Facebook friend. His regular updates from Nepal, especially about the recent developments kept me aware through the days of trauma that Nepal went through. Gradually, despair gave way to hope. Successive photographs from Tej about the different expeditions raised hopes. It came across, that the Everest region & the route somehow survived nature’s wrath. The damage to the trail has been recovered or at least was on the way of it.

Life presents you with questions at every corner. Solving one unearths others. Now that Nepal (or at least Everest base camp) was deemed reachable, the question of getting leaves from work came up. It wasn’t insignificant. From what Mr Gurung, my friends who’ve visited the region & finally, the internet, had to say, it takes about 13-14 days from Kathmandu to Kathmandu. Add to that, the travel to and from Delhi. All said, we were looking at about 15-16 days. That seems manageable. But, hold on, there’s the Lukla flight. That, in itself, is a “big variable” in this equation. Probably the one with most uncertainty. A quick hunt for information told me that flights to this distant air strip are very uncertain and weather always holds the trump card. Flights on this route are not controlled by sophisticated ATS systems, but by clear visibility. Simply put, if the pilot can see the air strip, the flight will land and similarly, while taking off, the hills in front has to be visible. Delays because of cancellations are not uncommon and all of whom we spoke to, advised us to have at least 2 days in buffer to account for them. Little did we know at that time, that even two days might prove insufficient and we’d have to think of alternatives. But that’s a tale to be told later. All said, we were looking at 17-18 days off work. Hmm, let’s see how it shapes up. But even before all that, my mind was caught up in another challenge. “Can I do it?” One section of it kept pushing me. “There won’t be another chance in life. Age is not going to be in your favor for long. So have it while it’s hot.” On the other hand, the son, the husband and the father in me kept dragging me. “Don’t be crazy. It’s not Kedarnath where you’re not forced to walk, mules can do the job for you. It’s not a 2-3-day affair. It’s a good fortnight of walking for at least 7/8 hours a day, getting to altitudes as high as 5500 m. You’re jumping into English Channel right after a swimming pool.” Asking different people for opinions gave mixed results. There are some people whom I preferred not to ask as the answer was always going to be negative (that includes my family members). Responses from others were subject to interpretation. It all summed up to “Look, you’ll have to walk hard, it will be tiring, you could run out of breath or do fine at the altitudes, depending on how fit you are or can become during the days of the buildup.” But all of them agreed that the trail, though tiring, is not dangerous and people of differing ages and varying trekking experiences have done it before. As it always happens, I finally reached a point when I thought, enough questions have been asked, now it’s time to move forward. After making up my mind, I gave a call to my bosom buddy and all-weather friend and travel partner Niladri (Niladri Sekhar Guha). He sprang up (as he always does) at the idea. After hanging up the phone, I wondered why bother asking others when a single phone call could solve it in a few minutes? Over the years, we’ve been travelling together (with our respective families) along with other friends. If Niladri turns down an offer to travel, it has to be a natural calamity. Getting leaves from a private IT firm for close to 3 weeks (well, at least 17 days) isn’t easy even by most lenient standards. But wait, didn’t I complete 5 years at my organization (or rather, will complete it before the trek commences)? What it meant that I’d be getting an extra 10 days of leave once I complete 5 years at my company. Great! This has to be it. As they say, when the Himalayas call, none can resist it. At least I can’t let this opportunity fade away.

*One of the many wire bridges to cross on the trail*

With leaves now sorted, it was time for planning. That wasn’t a small affair either. We first needed to form a group. Just two of us won’t work as the tax bracket we belong to, won’t allow that luxury. I reached out to my brother-in-law, Ranjan Ghosh, an employee at the Central Government of India. His love for The Himalayas had suddenly taken off with his interest in photography (primarily for birds). “Everest base camp? Hmm, that might be a big ask at my age, let me think over”. I tried my best to wipe out his last of doubts by citing numerous narratives I heard from others (carefully weeding out the negatives). With him still doubtful, I didn’t press on further, thinking he might be better off being left on his own to make a decision. If he comes back with an affirmative answer after giving a good deep thought, it’s better for the group as we’d have a committed member and that’s very important in a trek like this. Niladri, in the meantime managed to rope in one of his office colleagues, Siddhartha Bhattacharjee. With head hunting still on, I continued my inquiries about the travel. I resumed my interactions with Tej Gurung. The itinerary that he provided (which is standard) ran like this:

It would start from Kathmandu with a flight to Lukla, followed by a few hours of walk to Phakding, the place of our first halt. Next day, the maximum gain of altitude in a day (about 800 m) would take us to Namche Bazaar, the Sherpa hub of business and culture, the largest town of the Khumbu region. The following day was supposed to be a rest day, to acclimatize our bodies to higher altitudes. Rest, by the way, would not mean just relaxing. It would rather mean hikes to nearby places for about 2-3 hours and back. In this case, a hike would take us to the “Everest view hotel” from where we were expected to get the first glimpse of Mt Everest along with its neighbors. After that, successive days would see us gain heights gradually and reach the places of Tengboche (which has the largest monastery of the region), Dingboche, Lobuche and Gorakshep respectively. There were no extra rest days in the entire route apart from one each at Namche and Dingboche. We were to reach Gorakshep from Lobuche, have lunch there and tread on further to Everest base camp, the same day and come back to Gorakshep to stay there. The following morning would see us scale the heights of Kalapathhar to have the full view of the peaks and glaciers of the Everest region. The way back was similar, except that it did not involve staying at every place, given that we would be on our way down. Tej Gurung’s itinerary wasn’t just a routine. It had enough meat to get one charged up with romantic and adventurous description of the trail. According to that, Kalapathhar was supposed to be the climax of the entire trip. Apparently, when the sun would rise from behind of Mt Everest (to be able to see that, one would have to start ascending from Gorakshep at dark hours of the night), the edges of Pumori, Ama Dablam and many other stalwarts of the Everest region would start bathing in gold till that transforms to dazzling silver. It was supposed to be a treat to our eyes for the entire 360 degrees around us. Well, well! It was difficult to hold our breath. But, there’s not much time for romanticism as it was already January 2016 and we were to move fast as the window of our visit zeroed in on first half of May, as that would provide us the best weather before monsoons arrive at the Khumbu region.

**Everest calling – a village house (Solu Khumbu, Nepal)**

In the meantime, Dhananjoy, a common friend of mine and Niladri from college, joined the party. During the course of a regular phone call (as he does to all friends to keep the threads strong), Niladri brought up Everest and he was immediately smitten by it! Ranjan da (Ranjan Ghosh), during these days was continuing his research on internet. He had traversed numerous blogs, multitude of photographs, videos and posts on Everest and his exchanges with me gave a feeling that doubts in his mind were fading and finally, he gave consent. Now that we were five in the group, we started negotiations with Tej on the cost and once that was settled, our inquiries from him focused more on details around day-to-day logistics, required trekking gear and the gap we have to cover on that front. Then there was physical preparation to be undertaken as Tej said on one of the phone calls – “The trek can be done by anyone, provided he is fit. There is no danger in the entire route”. Now, if danger gets taken care of, we at least need to be fit enough to be able to take the bait. Fitness for me, over the years, has meant nothing more than a few rounds of brisk walking in the morning hours around the periphery of the housing complex where I stay in Noida. Though one cannot simulate altitudes of the trail, something had to be done. So I started climbing the stairs of a ten storeyed building in my housing complex, increasing the number of iterations with every passing week. Others resorted to similar things with Dhananjoy doing the same as me, Niladri (constrained by his problem of asthma) resorted to walking his way back to home from office every other day (a good 10-13 km). While these were going on, our conversations continued with other friends who have visited the region. In one such conversation, Shantanu Das (who’s been to both Annapurna and Everest regions) asked whether we were considering a visit to Gokyo lakes in addition to the main Everest base camp trail. The Gokyo region is another bait with its pristine azure lakes amidst snow-covered mountains. An added attraction was the crossover through Cho La (5420 m), a high altitude pass, with magnificent views of snow-capped peaks and glaciers that connects the Everest base camp trail with the Gokyo region. It would add two more days to the trip but would bring much more to the already exciting tour that was building up! “We can’t go there every weekend, right?” said Niladri, “so if we can walk for twelve days, we might as well add two more”. A few more exchange of emails with Tej, some negotiations and it was settled. The itinerary now spanned fifteen days from Kathmandu to Kathmandu. After our ascent to Kalapathhar, we would travel back to Lobuche, have lunch, then continue to Dzongla. The next day, we would cross Cho La to reach Thangna (or as some call it, Dragnak). Successive days would take us through Gokyo, Dole and finally, Namche Bazaar, where we would join back to the main trail and continue to Lukla after a day’s rest.

The pieces of the maze were falling into place rather quickly, which made me a tad nervous “Are we missing something obvious? Come on, it is supposed to be the Everest base camp trek. It can’t be that simple!” Such thoughts kept crossing my mind as the day of our flight to Kathmandu approached.

The buildup

Kathmandu

In the land of the Sherpas – the buildup

The preparation

In the year 1852, a news broke out at the survey headquarters at Dehradun. Radhanath Sikdar, a Bengali surveyor mathematician at the survey office at Calcutta, made an interesting discovery. His calculations revealed that he had identified the highest mountain in the world. It was then referred to as peak XV, but the official announcement was not made until 1856 as his numbers were being repeatedly verified. When it came to naming the mountain, the survey office normally preferred to keep local names as was done earlier in the cases of Kangchenjunga (which was considered to be the highest before peak XV was discovered), Dhaulagiri etc. However, in this case, Andrew Waugh, the British Surveyor General of India, argued that he couldn’t find a local name that could be universally accepted. He proposed the name Mt Everest (named after Sir George Everest, Waugh’s predecessor as the Surveyor General). Findings revealed later that Waugh’s claims weren’t entirely true as there was a mellifluous name for the mountain prevalent among the Tibetans who inhabited its foothills in the north. They called it Chomolungma (holy mother). However, after a lot of debate, the name Everest stuck to the mountain and it still does.

: Mt Everest from Everest view hotel, Namchebazar

In the race of being the highest (or rather, measured as highest), the baton passed from Dhaulagiri to Kangchenjunga (now known to be the 3rd highest) and finally, Everest.

Everest has attracted its share of admirers, enthusiasts, passionates (often bordering with madness) ever since it’s discovery as the highest mountain in the world. After that, it was only a matter of time for humans to think that it had to be climbed. The first organized expedition was conducted by the British in 1921. It was the first time, George Leigh Mallory (whose mysterious disappearance on the flanks of Everest, a few years later, would start debates in the mountaineering world) was on an expedition to the mountain. They climbed the North col up to 7005 m but were forced to descend. The British returned to the mountains in 1922, but were unsuccessful again. On their way down, Mallory and co. got caught in an avalanche but escaped narrowly. However, the same avalanche claimed the lives of seven Sherpa porters (possibly, the first recorded deaths on the flanks of Everest). The next expedition was in 1924, which became famous for the summit attempt of Mallory and Irvine. They were last seen to be climbing via the North col-North ridge-North-east ridge route in clear weather, apparently making good progress (as watched by their team member Odel, down below) only to be engulfed by a cloud surrounding the summit, never to be seen again. Years later, another research expedition discovered Mallory’s body at a site higher up on the mountain that triggered a debate in the mountaineering community about whether they were the first to summit the mountain rather than the first confirmed ascent in 1953.

No matter how well you plan or how lavish your resources are, as the mountaineers say even today, “It’s the mountain who holds the last card”. However, not every attempt at the mountain was as well organised as the Britishers’. In 1947, a Canadian named Earl Denman, who didn’t even have much experience in high altitude climbing, landed in Darjeeling (which is where all the expeditions in those days started from). His attempts to get a permit to enter Tibet were unsuccessful but he refused to back down. He hired a couple of Sherpas (one of whom was Tenzing Norgay) to embark on a long journey on foot, fraught with danger, all the way from Darjeeling to the foot of the north side of the mountain. They had every risk of getting captured en-route (and hence, jailed, as they were travelling without a permit), but kept moving. They reached upto a certain height (quite remarkable considering their resources and prior experience) but were forced to return. Fortunately for them, they were able to return to Darjeeling safely. Later, in an interview, Tenzing said that he knew that the plan was “foolhardy”, but even then, he couldn’t resist the invitation of Denman, mostly because of his own urge to climb the mountain!

There were two other unsuccessful expeditions in 1933 & 1936 and then the Second World War put a stop to all that. Access to the mountain from the north was closed after Chinese occupation of Tibet in 1950. Round about the same time, Nepal opened its doors to the foreigners and all the focus shifted to the southern flanks of the mountain. Back then, unlike today, every year, only one or two expedition permits were granted by the Nepalese government. In an exploratory expedition from Nepal, a British team reached the southern base of the mountain but were daunted by the Khumbu ice fall. The ice fall is a moving river of ice & snow, fraught with numerous crevasses and towering seracs (monuments of ice that can rise as high as 17-18 storeyed buildings). One had to cross the dangerous ice fall in order to gain access to the higher mountain and some concluded that it was impossible to cross it. In 1952, the Swiss beat the British to bag the climbing permit. Tenzing Norgay, for the first time, was considered a full expedition member (not just a porter as in some earlier expeditions). He struck a lasting friendship with the Swiss. He and Raymond Lambert were able to climb till 8595 m (the highest by humans back then) but were forced to return due to bad weather. However, this expedition is considered extremely important in the history of Everest. This is the expedition (and the 1951 expedition by Eric Shipton, to some extent) that established a route through the Khumbu ice fall to the upper mountain which gets used even today by the climbers climbing the South col-South-east ridge route. Tenzing’s experience on the higher mountain in the 1952 made him a natural choice for the 1953 British expedition led by Colonel John Hunt, as a climbing sirdar (the Sherpa leader who leads all other Sherpas in an expedition). It was a race among the nations to install a man on top of the world. After the failure of the Swiss, the British felt it was their last chance in 1953 before anyone beat them in the race. A huge number of porters and Sherpas were employed in the expedition to ferry loads & to establish a route up the mountain. Tenzing was employed as the climbing sirdar because he was the sole person in the team who had reached the highest reaches of the mountain previously. The expedition also included members from Commonwealth nations. One of them was a beekeeper from New Zealand, Edmund Hillary, who initially thought about refusing to join the expedition, but later joined it reluctantly.

*Base camp tents with the Khumbu ice fall in the background.*

The first party left for Everest on 10th March, with other batches following them. After the initial set of people reached the base camp, they established a route through the ice fall. Once this was done, different teams of Sherpas ferried tonnes of supplies to camp one. In the days that followed, repeated forays were done by the expedition members up and down the mountain. It was 17th of May already. The expedition members kept an eye on the weather forecast and it turned into a race against time. They had to complete all this business before the monsoons hit the Himalayas and that wasn’t very far. By this time, the expedition leader John Hunt set up two summit teams who would make successive attempts. The first of the two selected pairs, Tom Bourdillon and Charles Evans started on 26th May from the South Col (26000 feet) for the summit. They were able to reach the south summit (about 100 m below the actual one), but had to return due to exhaustion. Problems in their oxygen kits didn’t help their cause either. The ridge that lay after that, was considered extremely unsafe to climb as it was highly exposed to the gale of winds that dashes the summit ridge. A single wrong step on that narrow ridge can send one tumbling down the steep Kangshung face into death. On 27th May, the second pair comprising Hillary and Tenzing set out for the final attempt at the summit for this expedition. On their way, they came across a 40 feet high vertical rock face, which would later be known as the ‘Hillary Step’. They had to climb the face to reach it’s top. After that, it turned out to be a series of low bumps of snow and ice. They kept crossing them one after another till they reached a point where there were no slopes higher above and they could have glimpses far into the dry Tibetan plateau on the Northern horizon. It was 29th May, 1953.

After their successful ascent, Hillary returned to Kathmandu to know he had already been bestowed with the KBE of the British empire. Here too, amidst success, it was apparent that the color of skin probably had played a role as the same title wasn’t showered upon Tenzing. In the years that followed, immense speculation ensued around who, among the two, actually set the first foot on Everest’s summit. Different camps had their own opinions and they put forward reasons to support them. The immense pressure of media coverage led to a point where Tenzing almost repented the act of climbing the mountain, which the Sherpas regarded as Goddess mother of earth (this is supported by words of Jamling Tenzing Norgay, Tenzing’s son). Finally, Hillary and Tenzing signed an agreement that said that no one would ever disclose who, among the two of them, actually was the first to set his foot on the summit.

Coming back from the pages of history, its not only mountaineers that Everest cast it’s spell upon, but also on mortal beings like me. So far, even after visiting so many places in the Himalayas, I haven’t seen “the mountain” with my own eyes. I haven’t even visited the country that is the home of about half of the 8000-ers (peaks above 8000 m) of the world, Nepal. The name “Everest” fascinates almost everyone in this world at some level. The countless romanticism, adventure, awe & mystery that surrounds the mountain, makes it a favorite destination for climbers, trekkers & normal tourists alike. “Because it is there” said George Leigh Mallory, when asked by an American reporter about why was he obsessed about climbing Mt Everest. That explains why the swarm of climbers and trekkers that head for it every year, embarking on what can be called the international Himalayan trekking highway – aka the Everest Base Camp trail.

Though Everest hogs the limelight and is the center of discussion in everything about this route, it would be unfair to say it is the only attraction. Truth be told, Mt Everest gets to be seen the least in this entire trail. The best view of it comes from Kalapathhar, only peeping from behind the ridges of other mountain peaks that are in front. But the beauty of this route is the trail itself & the varying surroundings it leads you through with flora and fauna that changes drastically with altitude. The splendid colors of Rhododendrons in the forests of lower reaches, the dancing waters of Dudhkoshi that has its origins in the glaciers in the upper reaches of the Everest region, the magnificent views of the mountain peaks of Ama Dablam, Thamserku, Lhotse, Nuptse, Kangtega, Kusum Kangru and countless others, the monasteries dotting the valley & the Sherpas.

*Everest calling – the Doodhkosi river flowing through the gorges*

Hence, the preparations started – both physical and mental and it was a long one. In a series of blog entries that will follow, I’ll try to tell the story of getting to the feet of the mountain, the glorious views along that trail, the thicks and thins of that journey. Stay tuned.

The preparation

In the land of the Chogyals – part 2

Part 1

We were very close to the territory of Mt Kanchenjunga, but we couldn’t see any of the members of its family from Okhrey because they were hidden behind the hills around us. It was as if they were calling us to say “just a bit more and we’re waiting for you round the corner!”. That was how we felt as we moved closer to Hilley. The road to Hilley went through dense forests of Rhododendron trees (known as Guras in local language). How beautiful must be these rides during the months of March and April when flowers are in full bloom. As Hilley came closer, members of the KanchenJunga family started peeping out in the backdrop of the crystal blue sky.

We got down at the gate of Varsey Rhododendron sanctuary. The guard at the gate checked our identities and after paying the nominal fees, we were allowed to enter the sanctuary. The trail was an easy slope that went up gradually from Hilley right up to Varsey through dense forests of bamboo, Rhododendron and other trees. This sanctuary is the home of the rare species of Himalayan Red Panda, but one has to be extremely lucky to get glimpse of these creatures and we were certainly not so. Though one gets to see glimpses of the Kanchenjunga range at Hilley, but they don’t make an appearance during the entire walk of 4.5 kms till one reaches Varsey.

On our way, we met the caretaker of Guras Kunj (our place of stay at Varsey), who was coming down the trail to go to the local markets of Hilley to get some raw materials, spices and other items for cooking. He asked whether we were okay to have egg curry for the lunch and chicken for dinner. A question to which we answered in the affirmative gladly. Then came the disclaimer “It will take about 2-3 hours for me to get back and I hope you won’t mind helping me with the cooking as I’m a loner in the huts of Guras Kunj!”. As he asked the same question repeatedly, a strong odour of alcohol explained the drooling accent and the frequency. We already knew that facilities were merely basic at the tourist hut at Varsey, but actually it would turn out to be much worse. But we didn’t care much at that moment and moved on. Finally, the forests yielded to an open grassland and we saw the tourist hut. It was located beautifully, but wore a deserted look. Once we turned our heads to the left, we were awestruck with a wide panoramic view of the Kanchenjunga range (“The sleeping Buddha” as it is called in its entirety).

*The Sleeping Budhha – the Kanchenjunga range, Varsey*

Camera shutters went on a spree. The sky was crystal clear with mild traces of cloud floating way above the huge Kanchenjunga massif. Though it was still afternoon and the sun was high up in the sky, the chill around was quite strong, but the warmth was pleasant, which made it comfortable. We realized that this to go soon after the sun goes down. We went inside the tourist hut to have a look at the rooms, but were disappointed. There was no arrangement of hot water, so bathing was out of question. Even the blankets were not enough to keep us warm even if we went to sleep with all our warm clothes on. But that’s something to worry at night when the time comes. The caretaker returned with the raw materials and cooking ensued. We were already starving and finally, some of our family members had to lend their hands to have the food ready. By the time we were at the dining table, we were starving and the warm egg curry & rice vanished in no time! Once the hunger was satiated, the entire evening was at our disposal and we went out to venture the nearby pastures and slopes. Lines of hills covered by dense forests gradually went down the valley till they rose again on the other side of it and ultimately merged into the thick layer of snow and glacier coming down the slopes of majestic Himalayan peaks.

Evening sun started to turn yellow as the sun started its journey to the west. It was the time of the day when colors add to the drama that gets played out on the snow-clad peaks. Every moment appears like a unfolding scene. Successive shots of camera gives a different shade of color.

*The Kanchenjunga range at sunset – Varsey*

In front of our eyes, the peaks started to turn gold and then red. Sunlight disappeared from everywhere in the nearby hills and the forests posed nothing more than a dark outline but red sunlight still washed the slopes of the Himalayan peaks. Mt Kanchenjunga truly appeared as the leader of all wearing the crown.

As the sun went down, the wind chill forced us inside the tourist hut. There wasn’t anything to do in the darkness except to wait for dinner and after that, we reclined into our blankets. We all shivered throughout the night and sleep was a distant dream. It was instantly decided that we were to go down to Okhrey, the next morning as opposed to staying at this place for another night, given that Kanchenjunga obliged us with the views on the first day itself.

Stars still studded the sky when we woke up early in the next morning. Our endurance in the biting cold and patience was rewarded when the sun came out of the previous night’s sleep. After the morning sunset, we got ourselves fresh and headed down to Hilley and then a jeep took us to Okhrey where we spent the next night.

The next day we were headed for another picturesque town in West Sikkim, Bermiok. It is another town at the foothills of Kanchenjunga and we enjoyed our stay here at the comfortable hotel.

The next day, a short excursion took us to Singshore bridge, the highest suspension bridge in Asia.

From Bermiok, out next stop was Borong in South Sikkim. One the way, we went through Rabangla, which has a park with a huge ornate statue of Lord Budhha.

Borong was a cosy stay nestled in the hills of South Sikkim. The couple of days we stayed there were highlighted by morning and evening walks down the mountain roads. It was 31st December, 2015 and the year’s last evening ended with a wonderful sunset amidst the Himalayas.

Goodbye Sikkim, but its only a mater of time till we meet again!

Part 1

In the land of the Chogyals – part 1

Part 2

My stay in Delhi region meant proximity to the Western Himalayas. Hence, most of my Himalayan escapades has been to the regions of Garhwal, Kumaon and the state of Himachal Pradesh. My counterparts in Kolkata did the other way round as for them, visiting the mountains of North Bengal and Sikkim were easier. As a result, the likes of Kedarnath, Neelkanth, Chaukhamba, Trishul, Nanda Devi, Panchachuli and other Western Himalayan peaks were more familiar to me. Over the years, I’ve watched them with awe but one peak has stayed out of my views, Mt Kanchenjunga (or Mt KangchenDzonga, as some call it). It is the third highest peak in the world after Mt Everest and Mt K2 (Mt Godwin Austin). In my childhood and during my college days, I’ve had a brief view of it, but it was from a long distance from the hill station of Darjeeling. The state of Sikkim, in a way, lies at the footsteps of this great mountain.

Sikkim has been an independent kingdom since long, nestled between the neighboring kingdoms of Nepal and Bhutan in its western and eastern frontiers and India lying at its South and Tibet on its northern frontiers. It has been subject to invasions from these kingdoms. While they came to conquer or overrun its territories, they also left their influence in its culture and religion. The British also looked at it as a transit route to build trading relations with Tibet. An offshoot of the ancient silk route (a long trading route that originated in China, ran through the upper regions of the Himalayas into the markets of Central Asia) also passed through Eastern Sikkim. Over the years, the British had a sweet and sour relationship with the Chogyals (the kings) of Sikkim. They protected the kingdom by entering into treaties and defending them from the Gorkha invasions from Nepal, but to the other extreme, they ended up arresting the Chogyal and his wife when they came to Kolkata for negotiation. Later on, the relations improved somewhat and during the reign of Sidkeong Tulku, Sikkim obtained sovereignty from the British Monarch King George. Guarantees of Sikkim’s independence were later transferred to the Indian government in 1947 with India’s independence from the British rule. India controlled its defense affairs. During the Sino-Indian conflict of 1962, conflicts occurred at the Nathula pass (one of the passages to Tibet) and after the war, the route was closed. Later on, in 1975, Sikkim merged with the Indian union after a referendum.

First time we planned to visit Sikkim in 2008 but it was aborted at the last moment due to some emergency. After that, we visited many places in the Himalayas but Sikkim evaded us until the winters of 2015. As a part of our 2 week vacation towards the year-end, we planned to visit Sikkim for a week, followed by another week at my home town Kolkata. Two families (mine and my brother in law’s) embarked for Sikkim. They started a day earlier and stayed at Darjeeling for a couple of nights. We started a day later from Delhi by morning flight. Winter was starting to take its grip on Delhi. As we left our home for the airport, the air was chilling. Fortunately, there wasn’t any fog and that meant, our flight was on time. As soon as we reached heights, the Himalayas appeared on the northern horizon on a clear sky. We could easily identify the peaks of the Garhwal and Kumaon regions. they gradually gave way to the Nepal Himalayas. Somewhere, amidst these high peaks, Mt Everest must have made its appearance but I couldn’t identify it. Finally, Mt Kanchenjunga made its appearance with its siblings. The plane started its descent right after that and we touched Bagdogra airport at about 12 PM.

Bagdogra is a small airport. We went towards a counter where passengers were being allotted pre-paid cabs for different destinations into the Himalayan towns. We had to go towards Teesta Bazar and onward to a place called Bara Mangwa, a quiet place nestled in the hills around Kalimpong. However, we weren’t lucky and ultimately, we had to take cab for Siliguri and from there, we boarded another and by the time we were on our way towards Bara Mangwa, the sun was already bidding goodbye. After Teesta bazar, we turned left to move upwards. By that time, it was pitch dark and the cab was climbing the narrow roads with just its headlights on. We reached the lodge at around 7 PM. After dinner, we quickly resigned to our blankets and immediately sleep took control of us.

The next morning, we woke up to bright sunshine with clear skies.

The home stay at Bara Mangwa was cosy, but we didn’t have enough time to enjoy, given the late hours we reached yesterday. Today, we had to leave early for Jorthang, an important junction in Sikkim. My brother-in-law’s family would meet us there and together, we were to start for Okhrey, a quiet town in West Sikkim. That was to be our destination for the day. After breakfast, we took a stroll nearby as we waited for our vehicle to arrive.

I hoped to visit an orange orchard, but I was told that the fruits were already plucked from the trees for the season. The chill of the morning breeze reminded us of our proximity to the Himalayas. Finally, we started off for Okhrey. On our way down, we visited an orange orchard, where, luckily, some of the trees still bore the fruits.

The plush green trees were dotted with oranges all around us. It was the first time in my life, I was seeing oranges in the trees. Like apple in the Western Himalayas, orange is a distinctive fruit in its Eastern flanks. The whole region consisting of Darjeeling, Kalimpong, Sikkim and the neighboring kingdom of Bhutan is famous for oranges and its derivative products. We then moved along till we reached Teesta Bazaar. From there, we had to turn left, but we went towards right to reach the confluence of the rivers Teesta and Rangeet, the two main rivers of Sikkim.

*Confluence of Teesta and Rangeet rivers*

Teesta originates from the glaciers of Tibet in the regions north of Sikkim, then it flows down towards Darjeeling. Rangeet has its origin in West Sikkim and flows till it merges with Teesta near Teesta Bazaar, which then flows down the slopes to reach the plains of West Bengal before entering Bangladesh. It was a picturesque place with crystal clear waters of both the rivers flowing through the gorges of the mountains which are covered with dense green forests on their slopes. After spending sometime at the confluence, we continued our journey to Melli, which is a town on the border between the states of West Bengal and Sikkim. It is one of the towns that exist in both the states. The Jawaharlal Nehru bridge connects the two parts of it that lie along the two banks of Teesta. After crossing the bridge, we formally entered the state of Sikkim and as soon as we entered, we were greeted with horrendous roads. This was a surprise to me as roads in Sikkim are normally good (except its Northern part which was ravaged by a strong earthquake a couple of years ago and was still recovering from it). Apparently, the road was being widened by blasting the rocks in the adjoining slopes. These are causes of environmental concern as the Himalayas in general, are a fragile ecosystem. Especially, in these Eastern parts of it, rainfall is abundant and every monsoon wrecks havoc in the hills. Blasting in these areas will make the rocks even more unstable. We finally reached the town of Jorthang at around 1 PM and met with my brother-in-law’s family.

Jorthang is an important junction in this region which roads leading to different parts of Sikkim from here. I found it to be a bustling town. We were at the bus stand. The market nearby was flooded with oranges. We didn’t wait long and boarded a jeep for Okhrey. After Jorthang, as the jeep climbed the serpentine mountain roads, the wind chill increased. We reached our stay at Okhrey by the evening. The sun was still out. This was our base, from where we would be ascending to Varsey the next day. We were nearing the reaches of Mt Kanchenjunga. It was just another night and we’d at her doorsteps. Our plan was to stay at Varsey for two nights, but the owner of the lodge at Okhrey advised us not to stay there for more than a night as the facilities weren’t very good. But, who cares, we don’t luxury in the mountains as long as basic amenities like warm water and blankets are provided. But later on we realized that his words were correct to their letters. As darkness wore on, the mountain slopes on the left lit up with innumerable lights and we were told, that these were the lights of Darjeeling. When I woke up the next day, darkness was giving its way to soft daylight, which was spreading its arms gradually, but the sun was yet to rise. The sky was illuminated with soft daylight beyond the dark outlines of hills in front. Gradually, the soft blue started to acquire a tinge of red as if someone sprayed a patch of vermilion and sun started peeping out.

The shutters kept clicking on as the sun made its appearance in the sky. After sometime, we were ready after our morning duties to head towards Hilley, a town that is a few kilometers ahead of Okhrey. It was the place from where our short trek to Varsey was to begin.

Part 2

Chiliyanaula – a quiet abode

After our pleasant stay at Naukuchia Taal, we headed for our next destination Chiliyanaula. I first heard about it from one of my cousins Sanju da(Sanjib Ganguly, to whom I owe a lot for my limited knowledge of the Indian Himalayas). It first came up in the discussions about Ranikhet. Ranikhet is a famous hill station in the Kumaon hills but I’ve never been there. As in many other cases, when I asked Sanju da during our planning phase, he quickly pointed me to Chiliyanaula. It was barely 10 km away from Ranikhet. One could very well enjoy the famous sites at Ranikhet but stay at this quiet place which also has a KMVN rest house with picturesque views of the Kumaon Himalayas.

After a drive of about 2.5 hours, we entered the outskirts of Ranikhet. Clear, unobstructed views of The Himalayas were abound at every bend of the road. Eventually, I couldn’t resist asking the driver to stop the vehicle for a few snaps.

We finally arrived at the rest house. After completing the formalities, we were allotted a room. It’s windows opened at the lawn at its backyard. As I moved out into the lawn, I was greeted with majestic 180 degree view of the Himalayan range starting at the left from the peaks of the Gangotri group, followed by Kedarnath, Mandani, Chaukhamba, Neelkanth (Badrinath), Nandaghunti, Trishul, Mrigthuni, Pawalidwar, Nanda Devi going up to Panchachuli and even beyond it leading towards the Himalayan peaks of western Nepal.

*KMVN Tourist rest house – Chiliyanaula*

We quickly ordered our lunch and moved out to the lawn to bask in the afternoon winter sun. The cold was intense but very much enjoyable in the sun and more importantly, clouds stayed clear from the distant mountains. I was pleased to have been rewarded with my decision to come here during winters (contrary to the advice of some). The room we were allotted, also had a heating system installed. I was excited but it didn’t last long when I was told by the staff that it never worked. But who cares? After all, we’re not to stay at the room for long.

*Kumaon Himalayas – from KMVN, Chiliyanaula*

The lawn at the backyard wasn’t very big. It extended as a balcony from where one could have an unobstructed view of the valley and the mountains beyond it. We sat there with nothing to do or worry about other than watch the daylight changing its angle and color. It was an act of nature that was to be witnessed only through the changing colors of the snow-capped peaks. the dazzling white in the morning, they acquired a tinge of gold as the day progressed.

The color of fading sun gradually rubbed onto the pine and deodar forests, which gleamed in the gold. Mt Trishul appeared at a very different angle from what we saw at other places like Binsar or Kausani. The three peaks which gave its name, were clear and distinct, separate from each other. the day was approaching a phase where a drama was about to be enacted. A drama that is very familiar to me in these mountains. One needs to be prepared enough to capture it as the scenes were to enacted very fast. It’s a drama of changing colors in the backdrop of the snow capped peaks and the hovering clouds.

*Nanda Devi peaks at sunset – Chiliyanaula*

The sun started playing its role as it prepared to retire for the day. Shutters kept firing and every shot sprang up a different shade on the mountains. The rays of gold and crimson even rubbed off on the sparse clouds that floated in the sky.

As I turned from left to right, I saw the entire Himalayan range from Gangotri group in the west to Nepal Himalayas in the east, bathing in gold and crimson. Mt Trishul, which was the most prominent, appeared magnificent in the fading colors.

As soon as the sun went down, the chill in the air sharpened and we retired to our room quickly.

Chiliyanaula is one of the rare locations where one gets equally good views of sunrise and sunset. In the anticipation of a wonderful sunrise, I woke up early the next day and I wasn’t disappointed. The sequence of events that were played out yesterday, just got reversed as if someone re-winded the video in the opposite direction. It started of with a dark outline of the mountain ranges in the backdrop of a sky that was just being lit up. I turned my head to the right where the sun was peeping out from behind the hills.

It came up in leaps and bounds while the morning rays sprayed their colors on the Himalayas. First of the peaks to assume the golden crown were Mt Trishul and Mt Nanda Devi.

The golden crown of Mt Trishul made it more evident why it was named so. When I turned to my left, I saw the distant peaks of Garhwal region were also starting to wear their crowns. The most distinct of them all was Mt Chaukhamba. No matter where we go in Uttarakhand or which time of the day it is, it never misses to show up as long as the clouds steer clear.

*Mt Chaukhamba at sunrise – Chiliyanaula*

After all the colors were played out, The Himalayas wore a dazzling white look. After breakfast, we went out for the main places of visit in nearby Ranikhet – the cantonment, the famous golf course and others.

Ranikhet (queen’s meadow) draws its name from a local legend that Raja Sudhardev won the heart of his queen Padmini, who later chose this area as her residence. Later on, the British established the headquarters of the Kumaon regiment, which gave birth to the entire cantonment area along with the magnificent golf course (one of the highest in Asia).

If you steer clear of the main Ranikhet city, which is a bit congested, the rest of it is mainly the cantonment area, which largely clean, quiet and well maintained. After visiting the main sights of attraction, we came back to Chiliyanaula to witness another wonderful sunset to end the day. Chiliyanaula got etched in our memory with its solitude and magnificent Himalayan views. It was in our minds even when we moved towards our next destination Dhaulchina.

Winters in Kumaon hills – Naukuchia Taal

Work was taking a toll and whenever that happens, my mind reaches out to the hills for some solace. It wasn’t a different story in the month of January 2012 and I was eagerly awaiting a week-long break. When I initially started to plan for this, all I knew was I had to get away for a few days and I booked the railway tickets for Kathgodam quite arbitrarily. Now that the days were fixed, search started for the destinations. For a moment, it appeared to me that I have exhausted all options in the Kumaon hills. I gave a call to one of my distant cousins in Kolkata, Sanju da (Sanjib Ganguly). He’s a person to whom I owe my love for the mountains. It was his family tours which drew me towards the Himalayas. As always, he didn’t disappoint me this time either. After a few chats, we narrowed down to three places – Naukuchia taal, Chiliyanaula and Sitla (not Sitlakhet).

On a Friday night, after we came back from our office, had our dinners, picked up our bags and off we went to Delhi railway station to board the Ranikhet express for the umpteenth time. Next morning, we were at the Haldwani railway station at 5.30 AM. After completing our morning duties and applying some water to our faces at the railway retiring room, we walked out of the station, fresh as ever, to board a cab. The cab started it’s journey meandering through the congested roads and lanes till it reached the Nainital road. It was all familiar since I’ve traveled so many times through this route. “There’s the bend for the road that goes to Almora”, “Here comes Bhimtaal” – chants kept coming from my wife and daughter. After traveling down the road that surrounds Bhimtaal, the cab took a diversion that moved up the slopes. After a short hike, it came to a halt at the banks of the picturesque, big and the quiet lake of Naukuchia taal. We were right at the reception of KMVN tourist rest house. It beamed (as if to welcome us) in the bright sunlight. The chill in the winter morning wind was equally enjoyable.

*KMVN tourist rest house, Naukuchia Taal*

After the formalities, keys were handed to us. We had the entire day at our disposal. Warm geyser water aided us with some wonderful bathing and after a short breakfast with bread toast and coffee, we were ready for a boat ride in this quiet and pristine lake.

Naukuchia Taal is the biggest of the entire lake system that exists in the lower regions of Nainital district and more important, its more secluded than the others. Boats were available right at the doorsteps of the rest house and three of us boarded one with trembling steps and set afloat. The water glistened like startling diamonds in the bright sunlight.

The surrounding hills were filled with plush green forests (unlike Nainital, which is shrouded with hotels). The boat splashed along with quiet strokes in the water, splitting the large sparkling diamonds into smaller ones. The warmth in the sunlight was soothing and the gentle wind with moist traces of water from the lake had a healing touch. Life was all good with nothing else to do other than soaking in the beauty served up by nature.

The next day, we woke up to a cloudy weather but it wasn’t raining. A local vehicle was to take us into a ride to some nearby places of tourist attraction. Our first destination was Saat Taal, a system of seven small lakes, about 30 minutes drive from the hotel. As the vehicle moved upwards from the hotel premises along the serpentine roads, Naukuchia Taal offered breath taking bird’s eye views from different angles.

The lakes of Saat Taal were nestled amongst the surrounding hills that were densely covered with forests. It’s so serene to just look around with dense vegetation to soothe our eyes. Nearby forests buzzed with chirping birds. Saat Taal is also a heaven for bird watchers but I was devoid of a lens suitable for it.

We spent the entire morning roaming around besides the lakes and boating. Saat Taal also forms an important source of water for the lower plains of Kathgodam and Haldwani. Each one of the seven lakes (one of them was dry at that point) had a mythological tale behind it. With such surroundings, one doesn’t care about scientific reasoning but likes to believe in such tales.

As the day progressed, we headed to our next destination, Ghorakhal. It’s a place nearby that has a tea garden. As we headed towards it, clouds dispersed and a bright evening unfolded. The golden tinge in the evening sun rays added to the beauty of the sprawling tea garden which appeard as a stretched out bed of tea plants interspersed with tall trees dotting the landscape that have been planted to provide shade to the underlying tea plants.

Shadows started to get large as the sun prepared to bid adieu. We headed back to the rest house at KMVN. It’s been years since that day, but its etched in memory as a simple, peaceful day with rare tranquility. After dinner, we sunk into our blankets. Who knows what ChiliyaNaula has in store for us, which is where we were headed tomorrow?

The Mystic valley – Part 3

Part 2

The downpour that started previous afternoon, continued through the night and there were no signs of it abating in the morning. Our plan for the day was to go up to Hemkund Sahib, come down to Ghangria and then go all the way down to Govindghat to board a jeep for Joshimath. All that travel was to be done on backs of ponies. That was the only option for us if we were to board the train from Haridwar the next night. It sounded like an uphill task and incessant rains gave fodder to some members to contemplate dropping the idea of visiting Hemkund Sahib. The pony owners too, had that suspicion and they kept confirming with us time and again to ensure we didn’t drop the plan. Finally, we went ahead. All of us, wrapped in our rain coats, boarded the ponies (something which I always dread) and embarked on our journey.

Soon we reached the junction where the trail for the valley turned left, but we plodded upwards. Streams of rainwater kept flowing along the route and the ponies splashed along with their dogged steps. At many places, they used their own judgment to traverse the route diagonally to evade muddy potholes that were made slippery by their own excreta. Both the daughters were perched on the backs of their respective ponies, wrapped and fastened by ropes, the ends of which were held by the man who was responsible to drag these animals up the trail. The bends kept increasing as we gained heights. Numerous streams came down the slopes fed by the monsoons. Every now and then, the hooves of the ponies skid and we were continuously on our toes.

Forests on the lower reaches started to fade out and gave way to bushes. Slopes of the mountains were covered by green grass. Yellow dots started to appear among them and they increased in number with height. We realized that these were Brahma Kamal flowers, something which can only be seen in these high altitude regions of the Himalayas. They were not seen even in the valley yesterday, but here they were abundant.

Amidst all the excitement, the weather was biting cold and winds lashed making us shiver to our bones. My daughter’s patience dried up and she started crying. Finally, we saw the huge rocks and a few shelters on the distant horizon way up on the route. A faint tune of religious citations reached our years amidst the sound of the heavy downpour & the flowing streams. That told us, we were nearing our destination. When we finally reached there and off boarded the ponies, it took some time for our bodies to straighten up.

The volunteers of the gurdwara greeted us with warm cups of tea, kheer and khichdi. These were being served super hot from the huge containers where they were being prepared. One could consume as much as they could. The lake was surrounded by high mountain peaks on all sides but their tops were cut off by overhanging clouds.

The slopes nearby were covered with dense bushes with big Brahma Kamal flowers jutting out from them. It was one of the primary reasons (at least for me) to visit the shrine as there aren’t many places in the Himalayas where you get to see them. That too, can only be seen in these monsoon months.

Many of the pilgrims were taking a bath at the lake braving the cold as it is considered holy to do so. We were overwhelmed by the surroundings and the warmth of the service the volunteers provided but time was ticking. So, once again we boarded the ponies, which carried us down the watery slopes to Ghangria. We recollected our luggage and set out for Govindghat, again on the backs of ponies. We reached there finally at about 5.30 in the evening and boarded the jeep for Joshimath. A long cherished dream finally materialized.

Part 2

The Mystic valley – Part 2

Part 1

Part 3

It rained heavily for almost entire night but we woke up to a bright sunny morning, the next day. When we walked out of our lodge after breakfast, the streets of Ghangria were abuzz with tourists and ponies. Batches of people were heading off for their respective destinations, some for Hemkund Sahib, some for the valley while the rest headed down towards Govindghat. We gradually started off on foot from the lodge. The trail meandered through the clumsy alleys of Ghangria till we reached beyond the hutments of the main town of Ghangria. After crossing a pool over the stream and a few stair cases after that, we reached a junction. One trail turned towards left, which headed to the valley while another plodded upwards along the slopes towards the distant shrine of Hemkund Sahib. We turned left and came across a gate. It was here we had to purchase tickets to enter the valley.

I walked along with my daughter while rest of the group followed behind, each walking at their own pace. It was a narrow trail but the slope wasn’t high, at least to start with. The Pushpawati river gushed down the valley beside the trail. The sun was still shining bright and it’s rays pierced through the tall pine forests. Tiny flowers of different colors already started to appear beside the trail, though we were told that we still had about 3.5 km to reach the valley.

We were elated with those sights. If this is the start, then what waits us in the valley! The good thing was that rain wasn’t playing spoil sport though we were prepared for it come down at us anytime. After sometime, the trail gradually moved downwards till it reached a small pool over the river Pushpawati. Here it was coming down with tremendous force between the walls of the high mountain walls that surrounded it.

We stopped on the bridge to take some pictures. The trail beyond the bridge moved upwards along the slopes on mountains on the other side. I was a bit wary about my daughter. Yesterday, we had the luxury of a pony, which won’t be available today. People carrying baskets on their backs to carry the kids enquired us if a lift was needed for my daughter and I kept denying. They tried to paint the trail ahead to be steep and tiring enough to merit a pony ride. I insisted on making my daughter tread on her feet, but at the same time, was worried if such requests start playing on her mind. The desperation from the basket owners rose from their need to earn for their families. This was the only time of the year where tourists come to the valley – a span of just 2-3 months as for the rest of the year, flowers dry out as snow takes its place.

The trail was well paved out, but it started gaining steepness as we crossed successive bends. We had to stop frequently as my daughter demanded rest with sips of water to gulp down her throat. But the woods on both sides provided flowers galore.

Some tourists passed by on the backs of basket carriers. I was amazed to see that even adults strode their backs. The carriers bent their backs, while the persons on their backs were almost in a sleeping posture with their eyes fixed upwards towards the sky. The whole sight made me uncomfortable and I could never be comfortable in that posture while plodding these uphill slopes, leaving aside the thoughts about the effects my weight could bring upon the carriers.

As it was sunny, I started to sweat and so did my daughter. She insisted on removing her raincoat which was weighing heavily on her but I knew that the weather could change within a span of minutes and if rains came, she would start shivering. So I kept ignoring her requests but stopped frequently for rest.

After sometime the breeze became cool as the sun went behind the clouds. Walking now became comfortable but it started to drizzle as well.

The trail now came out of the woods and we could across the meadows on both sides of the trail. We were convinced now that we were at the gates of the valley.

The meadows stretched wide and the slopes of the mountains wore a fresh look with lush green vegetation.

Strong winds blew across the meadows that raised waves among the bushes that wore a carpet of booming flowers.

Some of the slopes were painted with purple, while the others were sprinkled with white. Clouds hovered above the surrounding mountains and all of their tops appeared cut off by them.

By this time, the intensity of the rains increased. We crossed the river Pushpawati once again by walking over a small plank of wood which vibrated heavily when one crossed over it and it allowed only a single person cross at a time. The river was thundering down the slopes underneath it.

I crossed it over with my daughter and waited on the other side for my wife.

By the time we reached the other side of it, rains came down heavily and we reached under the shelter of a huge slanted rock. While it rained heavily outside, we had our lunch (which we carried along in our back packs). We wanted to venture further into the valley, but looking at the intensity of the rains and thinking about the path that we had to traverse to get down to Ghangria, we changed our minds and headed back. When we crossed the river Pushpawati once again before Ghangria, the volume of water had increased visibly. After crossing the river, the rest of the trail was easy and we reached back to Ghangria by afternoon. Rains poured down consistently throughout that night. That gave us some worries for the next day when we were to set out for Hemkund Sahib.

Part 1

Part 3

The Mystic valley – Part 1

Part 2

The sun was shining bright as we traveled along the serpentine roads of the familiar Garhwal Himalayas. I was recounting the number of times I’ve traveled through these roads via the familiar places of Rishikesh, Byasi, Devprayag, Srinagar and Rudraprayag. I almost knew what to expect after every bend of the road. After Rudraprayag, our vehicle continued with the National Highway 58, which is the well-known road that leads to the distant shrine of Badrinath. The fact that the sun was shining bright was a pleasant surprise given the time of the year. It was the month of August, the peak of monsoons in this part of the world and our destination for the day was the distant town of Joshimath. We were on our way to visit the Valley of flowers, one of the most unusual valleys nestled in the deep corners of the Himalayas.

Way back in 1931, the British mountaineers Frank S. Smythe, Eric Shipton and R. L. Holdsworth were returning from their successful expedition of Mt Kamet. They were looking for a short route to the town of Badrinath. They lost their way in their quest and landed up on a beautiful valley full of Alpine flowers and were mesmerized by its beauty. That’s the valley we know today as the “Valley of flowers”.

A long cherished dream was about to materialize. We’ve planned for it many times, but it never happened. The last unsuccessful attempt was in the year 2013 when it was literally washed away by the devastating floods of Garhwal. Even this time, things were quite uncertain as we were following the monsoon patterns over last few days. Some of my friends of the mountains advised not to go ahead due to incessant rains that lashed the slopes of the hills causing landslides almost everywhere. We went ahead ignoring their advise with our fingers crossed being well aware that such incidents can result in delays of several days. Throughout our route, we crossed areas with broken roads dotted by boulders and stones which had come down the slopes but fortunately, it wasn’t raining. It took sometime to find out the GMVN rest house amidst the main market of Joshimath. After the formalities, we were allotted a family suite and a double room. Six of us (our and my sister in law’s family) stayed at the family suite while my father in law went to the other. Clouds started gathering in the evening and by night it was pouring down heavily. That added to my worries as we were to start our actual trek the next morning. But that’s expected in this time of the year. However, the skies fell on me when I chanced upon the dates of our return tickets. We were to return by the Nanda Devi express from Haridwar. It departs from there at 12.55 AM, which means it falls on the next day going by the English calendar. However, I booked the tickets on a woefully wrong assumption of it falling in the night of the same day. How could I make such a blunder and it’s not just me, but an entire group of seven people who were to suffer. For all practical purposes, a full day had been wiped out of our itinerary. We contemplated other options but nothing worked out.

The next morning when we started off for Govindghat, it was still pouring down heavily. The road out of Joshimath moved beyond the cantonment areas and we were moving down the slopes till we reached near the river bed of Alakananda. As we crossed it at Vishnuprayag, it bore a ferocious look with gallons of water thundering down the gorge threatening to engulf anything that comes in its way. The vehicle left us at Govindghat and a local jeep carried us another 2-3 km to the start of the trek route. Fortunately, by that time, the rain reduced to a drizzle and sun was about to peep out from the clouds.

After handing over most of our luggage to a porter, we started off on foot for the village of Ghangria which was 12 km ahead. The trail went through lush green valleys with forests jumping into life after receiving nourishment from the monsoons. Streams danced their way through the boulder strewn beds. Waterfalls came down the slopes in milk-white streams amidst lush green forests. It was joy everywhere in the nature and we enjoyed walking amidst the cool air brushing our faces. Our kids too enjoyed walking the trail in company of each other. As we moved along, the trail gained in steepness gradually and the bends increased. Soon our group dispersed, separated from one another by their respective pace and as in many other trails, I soon found myself alone with the Himalayas. It happens so often that you’re with yourself, accessing your own limitations, planning and taking decisions on your own and no one else other than yourself being responsible for your actions and their outcome. That’s what mountains teach you on its hidden trails.

Halfway through our trail, at about 2 PM, we stopped by the village of Bhuindar to have our lunch. As we had our food, the drizzle made a come back and so did our worries. Not everyone in our group had the same pace and if rains came on now, it would prove difficult for them to reach the destination within the safe bounds of daylight, which was fading fast now. After lunch, we reached the confluence of Bhuindar Ganga and Laxman Ganga, the latter coming down the slopes from the holy shrine of Hemkund Sahib.

After crossing a bridge at the confluence, the trail moved up the slopes in steep gains in altitudes while the number and sharpness of the bends increased. We heard that the entire route to Ghangria from this point was going to be an uphill climb. By this time, I and Ranjan da (my brother-in-law) were walking together with our respective kids, who now started showing signs of impatience and tiredness. After every bend they would ask how far was the destination and the frequency of such questions increased as the uphill trail started taking a toll on their bodies and minds. Our wives were trailing behind and we couldn’t even see them in the vicinity. Horses and mules were plying up and down the routes and they asked if we were interested in taking a lift. So far we’ve resisted the temptation, but as evening bore on, day light started fading and the intensity of rains increased, my daughter started crying relentlessly with no signs of the mothers. We still had to find a place to stay after reaching Ghangria and we didn’t know how far ahead it was. It was at this point, I relented to the call of a horse owner and hired one to carry along my daughter for the rest of the route.

But every toil has an end and so did ours when we finally reached Ghangria. I was relieved to find my daughter sitting on a chair. The horse owner apprised me that she was crying incessantly and only stopped once she saw me entering the village. Contrary to the popular belief, it was challenging to find a hotel as it turned out the village was bustling with tourists even in this raging monsoons. Even after we found a room and placed our luggage inside, there were still no signs of the mothers. I went back a few km down the trail to get a glimpse of them. After a very long wait, they finally arrived on backs of ponies and I was relieved to see good reason prevailing on their part in their decision to hire ponies to reach on time. We were too tired and were quick to resign to beds after dinner that night. The valley of flowers awaits us tomorrow!

Part 2

Author: Indranil

In the land of the Sherpas – Kathmandu

30th April, 2016

In the land of the Sherpas – the preparation

In the land of the Sherpas – the buildup

In the land of the Chogyals – part 2

In the land of the Chogyals – part 1

Chiliyanaula – a quiet abode

Winters in Kumaon hills – Naukuchia Taal

The Mystic valley – Part 3

The Mystic valley – Part 2

The Mystic valley – Part 1