Dayara to Dodital - 4

Dayara to Dodital - 3

The pass near Darwa Top

As per our original plan, we should progress on the Dodital - Hanuman Chatti leg of our trek today. However, for the last few days, our guides have been hinting that it will not be possible for us to make our way over the 4000m Darwa Pass that lies on the route. The problem they say will not be so much the snow at the pass as the snow on the steep western face of the range that we must descend from the pass. We have already had a taste of this while descending from Dayara Bugyal down western slopes and that was at a 300 m lower elevation. My own enquiries at Manjhi and Dodital convince me that it will be highly risky to attempt the crossing. The last group to cross over had done so nearly three weeks ago and since then there has been a prolonged spell of winter with fresh snowfall every day. J is also reconciled to the idea that we will not get to Hanuman Chatti. 

Kanasar Pass and beyond

Having dropped the idea of crossing the pass, we set out carrying only a few essentials, to check out the pass. The path to the pass follows the stream that is the main feed for Dodital, crossing it several times along the way. We walk along a narrow and steep gorge ploughed by the stream. Water birds flit about the rocks in the stream and I get a lovely picture of a white capped water Redstart in striking black and orange. At some point, we leave the stream and see the first traces of hardened snow on our path that we judiciously skirt. After we have climbed 300 m, the only trees seen are the short buransh (rhododendron) with pink flowers, and bhojpatra (birch) bereft of all leaves. We climb another 400 m, the last part trudging through snowfields, for our first views of the Yamuna watershed.

Kanasar Camp Site below the pass

The pass that my guide says is more correctly referred to as the Kanasar pass, is completely under snow. Patches of green and a few trees mark the Kanasar camping site, some way below. 

I spot a ladybug in the snow – red with black spots on a relentlessly white carpet – and wonder what it is doing here. The heights of Darwa Top are shrouded in white with angry dark clouds for a background. Surveying this snowy wasteland, I am glad that we are not going any further. Back in our tent in Dodital, we have a sumptuous lunch that Sur Veer has prepared. 

The next morning, we start our long march back. We take a couple of breaks for tea, first at Manjhi and then at Dharkot. Dharkot has a single tea stall and nothing else. The tea stall boy arrives after us and quickly pulls out his rations from a tree trunk where he has hidden them. Tea follows in a few minutes. We hear the sounds of a large group climbing towards Dodital. Several khacchars and their handlers arrive. On making inquiries, we are told that a group of Japanese – 4 in number - is on its way.

Bridge over the Dodigad near Bevra. 

Two girls with large ear studs, cropped hair, and wearing shorts arrive. They are surprised when we ask if they are Indians for they are from Mumbai! They are followed by two more girls who collapse on arrival, too tired to take any interest in the conversation. These girls with their large retinue – 7 khacchars and their three handlers, a cook, a guide who is an outsider and his local assistant – have been on the same route as us from Barsu. Their story is that after descending from Dayara at a point known as Dev Kund, they reached Satgadi. Unable to cross the Dodigad there with their Khacchars, they went all the way back on the old logging road and crossed the stream using the pucca bridge near Bevra and then   returned on the regular track to Dodital.

The tea stall boy learnt in Bevra that this group is heading up. He has come to Dharkot just ahead of them in the expectation of some business. We owe our tea to this happy coincidence.

An artisan of Bevra carving Rhododendron wood

 We cover the 14 km to Bevra, the first populated village on this route, in six and a half hours. We stop at a wayside hotel in Bevra that offers food and rooms and even has a proper toilet that can be flushed with water. Dinner ordered and a ‘magie’ consumed to stave off the hunger, I step out to explore Bevra. The village is set in a dramatic location, next to the glacial waters of a stream (the Bevra gad) at the point where the steep and narrow gorge through which it flows opens up, cradling a small valley. The cliffs on either side of Bevra rise vertically. The stream flows down to soon confluence with the stream from Dodital (and beyond) that we crossed earlier to become the Assi Ganga which flows into the Bhagirathi.

A Gujjar man and son with their khachhar

I walk to a wooden bridge over the Bevra Gad. Water birds – Redstarts, Dippers, Thrush - are busy flitting between the rocks on the bed of the stream. The steep almost vertical banks of the stream studded with rocks and greenery offers ideal nesting spots. Birds disappear from sight near the banks only to reappear later.

I return to have my first bath – and that too, in hot water – in a week.

The next morning, after a luxurious toilet (the first time indoors in a week), we take off early towards Sangam Chatti. The walk leads us past fields of mustard and wheat and patches of vegetables. A group of women in colorful dresses is harvesting jowar.

Sur Veer

We stop in the wayside village of Dandalka at a two-story house made mostly of wood. The ground floor houses the animals while our guide and his brother have their rooms on the upper floor. It is a house with a grandstand view of the fields on the gently sloping hillside and the forested hills on the other side of the Assi Ganga. The river itself, cutting a deep gorge through the mountains, is hidden from view. Sur Veer makes us black tea and shows us his son, just a few months old. 

We take a ‘short cut’ – a rapidly descending path - to get to Sangam Chatti quickly. A shared jeep has just the right number of seats to accommodate us and we are in Uttarkashi at 11.45 am. Our bus for Haridwar leaves at 12.30 pm. There is time for a parting drink with Sur Veer and then a quick bite. His brother is a teetotaler and we have already parted with him. With 10 minutes left for the bus to depart, we walk into a dhabha. Sur Veer stands outside keeping the bus in view while I try to establish a speed eating record. J is beginning to enjoy the meal when Sur Veer hurries us out and into the bus just as it begins to pull out. There is no time for a proper goodbye. 

For a report on this trek with day wise progress, please see this link 


Himalayan Trek 5, May 2012

Dayara to Dodital - 3

The forest around Morapla

Previous post Dayara to Dodital 2

Lying awake in a tent pitched in the midst of the forest, I am aware of myriad bird sounds – hoots, whistles, calls and chirping – from 4.30 in the morning. Eventually, I bestir myself and walk out into the cold and crisp air. A tribe of Langurs runs down past our camp in the half-light. Climbing to a point where I can look out north, I see the eastern face of Banderpoonch lit up by the sun still below the horizon. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I sense some movement in the undergrowth. A furry four-legged creature, in grey-brown-black and white, with a long bushy tail, short legs and ears sticking up like a rabbit, stops to stare at us. Sur Veer looks at a photo and says it is a Ban Chaura.

The old logging road from
Sangam Chatti to Satgadi

 Today, we would like to get to the settlement of Manjhi, located a little higher than where we are, but on another hill, separated from us by a deep valley. We must descend to the valley floor, cross a stream - the Dodigad, that carries water from Dodital - and then make the steep ascent on the other side. 

We walk through a beautiful forest of tall trees that block the bright sunlight, accompanied by birdsong and the sound of the yet unseen stream. My guide names the different trees we pass – Kharsu, Malak, Kanjal, Pangar, Morind. After a short descent, we reach an unpaved road that was at one time used for logging. The logging road connects the road head, Sangam Chatti to the forest interiors and eases our progress, but not for long. A massive rock fall has obliterated the road at one point and we need to take a long detour on a pag dandi that takes us close to the stream that we must cross, its blue waters visible through the trees. 

The path leads to a slippery downward sloping rock and vanishes. I look downwards and see that it will be a long fall if one were to slip. I let the guide carry my haversack across and then study the toe and finger holds that I must use to move sideways over the rock face. Then ever so gingerly, I make my moves.

Looking back at the rock face we descended from Dayara

 After this traverse, there are no more terrors on this road. We soon reach the camping site of Satgadi, where there is a bridge made of logs and rough cut stones across the Dodigad. We have reached the lowest point in our trek for today. From here starts a backbreaking climb zigzagging up the hillside. Three hours later, after climbing 600 ms, we reach Manjhi completely exhausted.

Manjhi has a row of huts but these are now empty as the villagers who occupy them are still waiting for the warm weather and availability of fodder for their cattle and goats before moving here. There are two dhabha's in the village; we crash in the first one. We order a luxurious meal of roti, sabji, dal and rice. Too tired to pitch tents, we accept the dhabha owner’s offer of a place to sleep near his fireplace, but then wonder if we have made the right decision. The dhabha certainly has a roof, but the long winter has taken its toll and the owner, it seems, has not had the time to renovate the place. The plastic side covers, in taters, flap noisily in the howling wind. The only redeeming feature is the crackling log fire.

West view on the Manjhi - Dodital route

 Sur Veer has taken off with J uphill to show him Monals that he believes live around here. I am too tired for another climb and prefer to stroll around near the village. I see a Monal in the distance and try my best to get near enough for a photograph, without luck. In a while, J comes back triumphant – he has not only captured Monals, but also a bird known as locally as Koklach (the Koklass Pheasant).

The forest around Manjhi is throbbing with bird life and we spend a few hours the next morning trying our luck with the camera. An easy trek after a late start gets us to the beautiful lake of Dodital, at a height of over 3000 m. Just after we reach, the rain begins, soon turning into hail. A foreign couple – a young Israeli and his Italian girlfriend - arrive soaked and bedraggled. Sur Veer has the stove going already and we offer them tea, which is gratefully accepted. When the rain and hail finally end after noon, it is time to pitch our tents and explore the lake.

Dodital from above

Dodital

Dodital lake is a fair sized natural water body surrounded by thickly forested hills. A paved walkway extends all around its perimeter. The waters are clear and foot long golden hued trout are plainly visible in large numbers. Water flows from the surrounding heights into the lake in several small streams and flows out more substantially at one end. I ask Sur Veer about the name. He says it was originally ‘Dhundi Tal’ and a British corruption of the name made it Dodi Tal. There is a lone dhabha, a little temple, a forest rest house, and two small houses occupied respectively by the forest guard and a holy man known as Maharaj or Burfi Baba  (which would translate as Ice Baba).

We visit the Burfi Baba’s abode. Several people are sitting around a log fire in a dark room, warming their hands. We exchange greetings and the baba, an old man with a flowing white beard, invites me to sit by his side on a mat. I ask the baba how long he has been here. 17-18 years, he replies. He belongs to Uttarkashi. He stays here round the year; even when Dodital becomes completely snowbound and cut off from the villages below in deep winter. At that time, even the forest guard moves to Agoda, leaving the baba alone here. That is, except in the last year or two, when he has been traveling to different places across India at the invitation of his friends. The baba gets up, mounts a raised platform, and starts his evening prayers after lighting a lamp to the gods on a mantle piece. Presently, he starts singing a popular bhajan and the others join in. I sit for some time and then leave.

View from our tent

 The dhabha is the other place where people congregate. The temple priest, the dhabha owner, a bunch of workers engaged in making a new building for the tea stall and the foreign couple who arrived today are all sitting around the fire. The new housing under construction for the dhabha is right across where we sit. The dhabha owner looks no more than a kid and is obviously blind in one eye. He is also the sole worker in the dhabha, washing, cooking, and settling accounts with his patrons. The others kid him by calling him a thekedar – for he is also managing the construction work going on for the new stall. He has obtained the right to operate the stall here for a year by agreeing to pay Rs 100,000/- to the Forest Department. He needs to recover this money from sales before he can make a profit.  

What has motivated us to come here, is it a religious pursuit, the priest asks? I struggle to explain why I like trekking in the Himalayas. The conversation drifts to a comparison of public morality in Delhi and Uttarakhand. I have a separate conversation with the Israeli. He is 28 years of age has completed compulsory military service and now is planning to enroll for graduate studies in astrophysics, his passion. He tells me about the two months he has spent teaching village children in Pondicherry and how he has introduced them to the great Indian astrophysicist, Chandrashekar.

That night, we go to sleep in our tents under a star-studded sky.


Continued.....Dayara to Dodital - 4

Dayara to Dodital - 2

Dayara to Dodital 1

The day dawns clear and cold. Our guide believes that we may be able to obtain rice from another group that has camped on the route we will take today. If that does not work out, we will have to manage without our staple for 2 days.

Dayara Bugyal (3350 - 3600 m)

After a three-hour climb, we reach another cluster of empty stone walled huts near the approach to a meadow known as Dayara Bugyal. We find the perfect chaini – with waterproof roofing, a door, and a wooden floored sleeping area – and quickly lay claim to it. Procuring rice is our next priority and we venture out to find out if we locate other campers. When the expanse of the bugyal comes into view, it is mainly a study in white – the white of the thin layer of snow covering the bugyal, the white of the snow clad Himalayan peaks in the background and the white of the thick clouds gathering over them. Climbing a hump, we see the camp – colorful tents in red, blue, and yellow standing up on a white carpet.

 Our guide is quick to spot the man in charge and strike up a conversation with him. Around us, boys and girls in colorful dresses are making their way unhurriedly across the snow towards the campsite. We learn that these are the eighth class students from a well-known residential public school, on a camping trip. I sheepishly tell the group leader about our “forgetting” to get rice, and he immediately agrees to help. Lighthearted after collecting a generous quantity of rice that will keep us going for the next two days, we explore the snow bound upper reaches and the clear lower reaches of the bugyal, unmindful of the gathering dark clouds.

Banderpoonch Range

The next day promises to be a tough trek. We have to climb a few hundred meters to the northern extremity of the bugyal before making the descent to a camping site below the snow line.

We make an early start under clear skies. The ridge of the Banderpoonch range rising 3 km above us, stands glistening in the sun. Behind it, is visible the unmistakable profile of the even taller Kala Nag peak. 

As we gain altitude, we encounter more snow on the ground, smoothening over the uneven ground. We march in single file, each one following the man in front, matching step to step. We come across a steep hill that must be climbed before the descent begins. I would have easily scrambled up this hill but for the snow cover and the 12kg weight of the haversack on my back. A slip on this slope would take me down perhaps 20 ms and would leave me bruised if not worse. The guide is sitting

Descent from Dayara

at the top of the hill maintaining a watch. If I fall, he will come to pick up the pieces. My legs feel drained of strength and I would feel much better with the weight off my shoulders, but pride stands in the way of my asking the guide for help. There is nothing to hold onto, no alternative except to I inch my way up with long pauses to steady myself and plan the next step. After what seems like an interminable length of time, I reach the top.

Descent from Dayara

The real test is yet to begin. Our guide points to the route down from the bugyal. It is a steep snow covered boulder strewn slope. There is no trace of any path. Sur Veer takes the lead, sure footed despite the heavy load he carries. I make my way down the gully behind the others through foot deep snow, using a long stick to arrest my downward slide.


The gully leads to an open slope and we take a zigzag route through the snow. The traverse is not difficult, but requires total concentration. Before each step, I plunge the stick into the upward slope to get a strong purchase. I match each step to the imprint left in the snow by the others. A misplaced footfall could mean sinking in the snow up to the knees or worse; a slip could mean an uncontrolled slide down the slope a few hundred meters. (J's amazing video of the descent from Dayara)

Ghola Top, part of the ridge dividing the watersheds

Eventually we reach relatively level ground and the first trees, rhododendron and bhojpatra (birch), make their appearance. 


We take a break for tea that Sur Veer prepares in the open. Our shoes are wet and the socks drenched, but there is nothing to be done until we reach the campsite. For the first time, we can see the mountains that divide the Yamuna watershed from the Bhagirathi watershed, now engulfed in angry clouds. It is another three hours before we reach the camping site of Morapla, set in a beautiful mixed forest. Sur Veer immediately finds a suitable chaini, gets water from a stream nearby, and gets the kitchen up and running. We decide to sleep in our tent for the first time in this trip.

An old man and his son who are taking their khacchars down come and share tea with us. It begins to rain and we all settle around the fire in amiable companionship watching Sur Veer cook. The old man maintains that this rain will not last and that it will clear up before evening. He has several tips to offer Sur Veer on how to make a better dal with the limited ingredients we have and how to prevent the cooker from spilling the dal. For us, he has a puzzle. How can we make three log fires with three logs, with two logs available to each fire? 

The rain stops, and father and son resume their journey politely declining our offer to eat with us. The weather clears up.


Continued .....Dayara to Dodital 3

Dayara to Dodital - 1 May 2012

Just north of Uttarkashi, the Yamuna and the Bhagirathi, still close to the glaciers that feed them, flow hardly 30 kms apart as the crow flies. A spur of the Himalayas extends south from the Banderpoonch range separating the watersheds of the Yamuna and the Bhagirathi/Ganga. We plan to trek from the Bhagirathi valley to the Yamuna valley, crossing this range. Our path will take us over bugyals, past high altitude lakes, across streams fed by glaciers and over a high mountain pass. We will start from Bhatwari on the Gangotri highway and end up at Hanuman Chatti on the Yamunotri highway (see map below). We reckon that it should take 7 or 8 days.

J is my sole co-trekker. I am older than his father is, he informs me after inquiring my age. We met a year back on another trek, hit it off well, and have kept in touch virtually until now. Two brothers from a village near Uttarkashi will accompany us. We would have been happy with just one person who would show us the way and share the load, but we are unable to get a guide to come with us alone. As things turn out, the younger of the two brothers, formally the guide’s assistant, becomes a real asset during the trek. Over the next few days, Sur Veer hauls the bulk of the load (provisions, tents, and cooking utensils), gets campfires going in the worst of conditions, improvises and cooks delicious meals with limited ingredients, finds the trail buried deep in snow, and even takes us bird spotting through the jungle, all in good cheer.

Barsu

Our trek begins at the village of Barsu, perched on a mountain slope overlooking the Bhagirathi valley at some height from the Gangotri highway. We walk through the village and on a steep paved path that climbs rapidly. Looking back, we get a picture postcard view of Barsu in the midst of greenery against the backdrop of snow peaks touching the clouds. 

Barnala Bugyal

A few hours into the climb, we reach a group of thatched huts, walls of rough-hewn stone stacked on top of each other, set out in disorderly fashion, in a small clearing in the forest. These huts belong to the Barsu villagers and are used by them in summer when they bring their cattle up to graze. As of now, they are all empty though it is already the first of May. Summer is clearly late in coming this year. It is early afternoon and ominous clouds have gathered. We are quiet happy to select the best chaini (as our guide refers to the hut) to occupy and camp for the day.

The inside of the chaini is divided into two parts. One side is meant for the animals as is evidenced by the droppings on the floor. The other side is relatively clean and is organized around a fireplace. This chaini has no door and is simply boarded up with loose stone, which we have dismantled to enter. In minutes, Sur Veer has a fire going and ‘Maggie’ ready which we eat with great relish. With something hot inside and the load of the haversacks off our backs, we are ready to explore.

A short climb from our campsite brings us to a gently rolling open green meadow, with trees on its fringes. Higher up, we come across a beautiful pond that has hollowed out a part of the meadow. This is Barnala Tal, in the meadow named Barnala Bugyal. The grass of the Bugyal is obviously the reason why the Barsu villagers bring their cattle here in summer.

Barnala Bugyal (2850 - 3000 m)

It begins to rain and we make our way back to the chaini only to discover that we have several feathered friends. A White-collared Blackbird waits to be photographed. I turn around and spot a comical looking Himalayan woodpecker and then turn back to see a Golden Bush Robin in the fading light.

Sur Veer has cooked the dal and is ready to put the rice in the cooker, but cannot find it. We start searching all the bags without luck. Have we misplaced the rice or did we forget to buy it in the first place? I pull out the handwritten bill made at the Kirana shop in Uttarkashi yesterday and we painstakingly go through every entry in illegible Hindi. There is no rice mentioned on the list! That night we sleep on a dinner of salted dal and a sweet dalia porridge. Tomorrow, we will think of how to manage our meals on the trek without the staple.

Continued ....Dayara to Dodital - Part 2

Birds in the ranges around Uttarkashi

The following birds were spotted foraging near the summer huts of Barsu villagers in Barnala Bugyal, at a height of 2800m. May 2012

<- White-Collared Blackbird. Also spotted a Himalayan Woodpecker.

Golden Bush Robin ->

<- Black Redstart seen at Barnala & Dayara Bugyals ( 2800m-3250m)

Grey Bushchat ->

<- Pink-browed Rosefinch at the Molapla campsite (2600m)

A pair of Turtle Dove (?) -> in the forest along the Sangam Chatti - Satgadi road (~ 2300m)

<- White Capped Water Redstart near the stream flowing into Dodital ( 3000m-3200m).

Aquamarine Flycatcher ->
White supercilium clearly visible

<- Tit (which one ?)

Plumbeous Water Redstart ->
At Dodital (3000m)

What is this water bird? Sitting on the Bevra Gad