It is over. I am back now, physically at least.
I had never been to the mountains before, or even seen snow. People had told me of the allure of the snow caps. I had wanted to see it for myself. There was just one other person in the group I was acquainted with when we started. It was quite ideal. I had decided to hug my solitude close and commune with nature. I foresaw being witness to delightful sights and sounds, chatting with locals about their way of life, sampling their food and being blissfully exhausted before I went to sleep every night. I looked forward to seeing the most physically revolting version of myself considering we wouldn’t be bathing for more than a week. I wanted to find out as I did the daily gradual ascent and occasional descent, whether I would lose my temperament or take it in my stride. I got all my answers and then some.
The trek really started when we left base camp at Loharjung in the wee hours. The uphill climb was a mood tester. It was arduous but we made it. There were some cheery faces and some sullen ones towards the end. But everyone brightened up at the sight of the plum coloured nectar we were offered when we reached what would be our first stop, Didna village. It was the local Buransh juice, otherwise known as Rhododendron. The acclimatization climb broke the ice between the group. When it was night, the darkness was so absolute, the sky showed its deference with all the stars in all their glory. I was hushed, feeling minuscule and insignificant. The remarkable aspect of being in a place devoid of the invasions of human technology is that every experience, visual or cerebral is accompanied by a dash of authenticity.
So the days went on. We trudged along beautiful vistas of lush forests, sparkling streams, endless meadows. Our trek leader, Sanjeev was one of a kind, always cheerful with a song on his lips. He belonged to the mountains, his grace and poise in any situation was an inspiration. We passed Ali Bugyal, Ghora Lotani and reached our first camp on snow, Bhagwabasa. Sleeping in a sleeping bag in a tent gave me fitful sleep, but who needs sleep anyway? There are only so many hours in a day, and only so much time to do everything we want. I would beat my alarm clock every morning and be up before 6 am to see the sun rise. I never got used to the breathtaking beauty, it always amazed me. At our snow camp, the unforeseen happened when the Milky Way was pointed out to me. I gaped at the sky for several minutes. The goosebumps were palpable.
Summit day was by far the most physically demanding one. Towards the end, I was running solely on adrenalin. It was difficult. It was exhilarating. I felt alive. Roopkund lake was something of a let down. Because it was frozen, we didn't get to see any skeletons. The summit took us about 4 hours, but the local kitchen staff ran up and caught up with us within thirty minutes with our breakfast! It was like they don't have human blood flowing through their veins. They are genetically superior beings who glide through snow like they have imaginary skis strapped on. The way down was interesting as the snow had started to melt. One would be knee deep in snow before one knew it. But that was common place by then. No big deal. We reached the camp in high spirits. I felt like I wanted to climb the next mountain, then the next and just keep going.
We descended for the next two days. I missed the snow the moment I left it. I still feel the dull ache I felt then. The way down was beautiful but it was a quiet beauty. It had the sense of an ending. This is precisely why one must travel. Any writer could write a thousand words about a Himalayan hike, but nothing could justifiably encapsulate the magic of being in that moment; not being bothered about recording it on film or on camera, but just being. All through the trek I kept telling myself, "Look up. Watch your step but look where you are. This place is a thing of beauty. You'll be sorry if you miss it. The quality of these mountains is HD." I went away with one feeling. I will be back.
Returning home is the most difficult part of long distance hiking. You have grown outside the puzzle and your piece no longer fits. - Cindy Ross
PS: Photos courtesy Deepesh Panicker & Rohit Gupta. Interested souls, check TTH and go be a nomad.
I had never been to the mountains before, or even seen snow. People had told me of the allure of the snow caps. I had wanted to see it for myself. There was just one other person in the group I was acquainted with when we started. It was quite ideal. I had decided to hug my solitude close and commune with nature. I foresaw being witness to delightful sights and sounds, chatting with locals about their way of life, sampling their food and being blissfully exhausted before I went to sleep every night. I looked forward to seeing the most physically revolting version of myself considering we wouldn’t be bathing for more than a week. I wanted to find out as I did the daily gradual ascent and occasional descent, whether I would lose my temperament or take it in my stride. I got all my answers and then some.
The trek really started when we left base camp at Loharjung in the wee hours. The uphill climb was a mood tester. It was arduous but we made it. There were some cheery faces and some sullen ones towards the end. But everyone brightened up at the sight of the plum coloured nectar we were offered when we reached what would be our first stop, Didna village. It was the local Buransh juice, otherwise known as Rhododendron. The acclimatization climb broke the ice between the group. When it was night, the darkness was so absolute, the sky showed its deference with all the stars in all their glory. I was hushed, feeling minuscule and insignificant. The remarkable aspect of being in a place devoid of the invasions of human technology is that every experience, visual or cerebral is accompanied by a dash of authenticity.
So the days went on. We trudged along beautiful vistas of lush forests, sparkling streams, endless meadows. Our trek leader, Sanjeev was one of a kind, always cheerful with a song on his lips. He belonged to the mountains, his grace and poise in any situation was an inspiration. We passed Ali Bugyal, Ghora Lotani and reached our first camp on snow, Bhagwabasa. Sleeping in a sleeping bag in a tent gave me fitful sleep, but who needs sleep anyway? There are only so many hours in a day, and only so much time to do everything we want. I would beat my alarm clock every morning and be up before 6 am to see the sun rise. I never got used to the breathtaking beauty, it always amazed me. At our snow camp, the unforeseen happened when the Milky Way was pointed out to me. I gaped at the sky for several minutes. The goosebumps were palpable.
Summit day was by far the most physically demanding one. Towards the end, I was running solely on adrenalin. It was difficult. It was exhilarating. I felt alive. Roopkund lake was something of a let down. Because it was frozen, we didn't get to see any skeletons. The summit took us about 4 hours, but the local kitchen staff ran up and caught up with us within thirty minutes with our breakfast! It was like they don't have human blood flowing through their veins. They are genetically superior beings who glide through snow like they have imaginary skis strapped on. The way down was interesting as the snow had started to melt. One would be knee deep in snow before one knew it. But that was common place by then. No big deal. We reached the camp in high spirits. I felt like I wanted to climb the next mountain, then the next and just keep going.
We descended for the next two days. I missed the snow the moment I left it. I still feel the dull ache I felt then. The way down was beautiful but it was a quiet beauty. It had the sense of an ending. This is precisely why one must travel. Any writer could write a thousand words about a Himalayan hike, but nothing could justifiably encapsulate the magic of being in that moment; not being bothered about recording it on film or on camera, but just being. All through the trek I kept telling myself, "Look up. Watch your step but look where you are. This place is a thing of beauty. You'll be sorry if you miss it. The quality of these mountains is HD." I went away with one feeling. I will be back.
Returning home is the most difficult part of long distance hiking. You have grown outside the puzzle and your piece no longer fits. - Cindy Ross
PS: Photos courtesy Deepesh Panicker & Rohit Gupta. Interested souls, check TTH and go be a nomad.
6 comments:
Beautifully written. I like how you've captured the sentiment of the trek without going into day wise account.
Thanks Preeti. Yes, that was my intent :)
Beautifully captured Prachi straight through to the essence....loved it...(Tanvi)
Thanks Tanvi :)
Simple and pleasingly ingenious. Blissful emotions of a trekker captured in words....Wonderful
Thank you Arun :)
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