The virgin snows of Munsiyari

Sunday Deccan Herald carried an edited version of this article here


Getting to Munsiyari, a small town in the far corner of Uttarakhand bordering both Tibet and Nepal, is the difficult part. For 12 hours, you must hold body and soul together, in a jolting jarring vehicle, on roads left ravaged by the last monsoon, as its makes its way up from the railhead at Kathgodam.

It is already dusk as we reach the pass at Kalamuni temple, the highest point in today’s road journey at over 9000 ft and Munsiyari is still another nine kms. The roads are icy up here from the heavy snowfall of 3 weeks ago and I notice the driver quickly pulling out the MUV from a skid at least a couple of times. From here on, it is a descent to Munsiyari located at the entrance of the valley of the Goriganga, whose glacial waters eventually join the Ganga.

Khalia Top in late January

A warm meal and the refreshing cool air of Munsiyari dissipates the weariness of the journey and we venture for an after dinner walk skirting the town. The night sky is visible in its entire splendor. We reclaim childhood memories of stars and constellations, recognize Orion, and argue over the Great Bear and the Pole Star. The Milky Way shows up clearly across a sky that does not suffer from the light and dust pollution of the metro. However, we have not come here for the night sky so much as for trekking in snow. That will be tomorrow when we begin the 4500 ft ascent to Khalia Top a prominent ridge overlooking Munsiyari.  This is what has brought nine of us coming from the far-flung metros of Mumbai, Bangalore, and Delhi together here.

Next morning, after limbering up with some essential stretching exercises to prevent cramps and injuries, we follow a well laid out path paved with stones. It is not long before we come across snow – just a few inches at first and crunchy but forcing us to walk more carefully, digging in toes to avoid slipping. The lovely terraced fields of Munsiyari are visible far below. As we go higher, the snow is more copious, sometimes a foot deep. The path is completely blanked out by snow in some places. The danger now is of sinking into the snow rather than slipping.  Prudence lies in following in the footsteps of the person ahead, literally! Every step up the steep incline covered in white is an effort of will power. Late afternoon, we reach the forest department shelter at Bhujani, exhausted to the core. 

Panchachuli peaks at sunset

The camping area is under several feet of snow here – so the shelter, though still under construction and incomplete, is a better bet than tents for this night. Warming up and drying our shoes around a fire in the verandah of the shelter, we are treated to a grandstand view of the magnificent Panchachuli range to the northeast. Local legend has it that the Pandavas while on their final journey to leave the earth camped  in these parts of the Himalayas and set up their chulas. The five prominent peaks of the Panchachuli range represent the chulas of the five brothers. At sunset, the Panchachuli range turns to gold. The temperature begins to drop rapidly and we are not particularly averse to being crowded in a room just big enough to spread out our sleeping bags. Tomorrow we will climb Khalia.

Panchachuli range and the shelter at Bhujani

The next day dawns beautiful and we set out early. The tree line has been left behind and the only greenery visible is stunted rhododendron poking out from the snow-covered hillside. The path is now invisible and we have to make our way plodding through knee-deep snow. Our guide painstakingly checks out for solid ground underneath before every step and beats the snow down. We follow step on beaten step - one false step can mean sinking waist deep in the snow or worse still falling into a deep hole. A pair of Monals fly by and disappear around a bulge in the hillside, too quickly for me to react. High up, a lone Lammergeier is testing the currents. The snow is virgin – not yet tramped upon by man or beast. Well, not quite. I see a line of arrow shaped prints made by some large bird – a Monal perhaps? The bird is known to search for things to eat below the snow.  

Snow and rhododendron

There are also the pug marks of a four-legged creature to be seen – our guides tell us these are prints of a snow leopard rather than the fox. The deep blue of the sky contrasts with the brilliant white of the snow that has covered the land in sensuous shapes and curves, hiding all imperfections. The shadows of the rhododendron on the snow make for beautiful patterns. It is an altogether enchanting sight. 


Climbing higher we enter what would be a grassland in summer but is now a field of snow with an odd boulder sticking out here and there. We have reached Khaliya ridge, though not its highest point. Towards the South, are row upon row of hills in various hues of grey and blue – the Shivaliks and the lesser Himalayan range that we have driven through for 12 hours the day before yesterday. To the East and  North East is the grand panorama of the

South view from Khaliya

Panchachuli. And right in front is a vast level snowfield, inviting as the softest of beds. We dive into the snow with childlike abandon, the tiredness of the climb forgotten.

Up along the ridge, the view unfolds towards the North and North West. Clouds are descending on the greater Himalayan range but we have just time to get a view of the great Nanda Devi – the second highest peak in India. I take a few pictures with the beautiful outline of the mountain just about discernable. A co-trekker sits on a large boulder with a commanding view and slips into deep meditation. A small sparrow like bird doing short hops from rock to rock surprises me. What is it doing in this no doubt beautiful but certainly desolate spot, I wonder.  

Moments alone in communion with nature

Back home, I determine with the help of a photo I took that this is an Alpine Accentor, resident in the Himalayas in “open stony slopes and rocky pastures” as per my bird guide book. What an amazing bird to reside through the winter in these inhospitable climes!

On the way back, we stop at an outcrop of rocks where there is a small shrine so typical of these hill areas - triangular shaped bits of marble and stones are piled on the rocks, two large poles stick out to provide sighting from a distance and strips of cloth in many colors and a few bells make the adornments. The Kumaoni, sure footed as he is on the mountains, always offers his thanksgiving for safe passage on passing a shrine. As the oldest member of the group, I have the honor of breaking

Shrine on Khaliya ridge

the coconut, which we have carried with us in anticipation.


The return journey to the camp is enjoyable. By now, we have lost all fear of snow. We slide on our backs and plough throw snow, occasionally taking a tumble or getting caught waste deep and needing to be rescued by our local guides. Once back, I reach into my coat pocket for my precious camera only to find it completely packaged in snow. It turns out that it is too cold for the snow to melt and wet the camera – so all ends well.

Afterword


This trek would not have been have as much fun as it was, but for the warmth, caring and bonhomie in the group. My Hats off to a great team !


The trek was organized by Rakesh and Sandeep (standing second and first from left) of Trek The Himalayas 

At Khaliya Top

Himalayan Trek 3, Jan 2011