The Chanderkhani Pass Trek - 2 Nov 2012

Chanderkhani Pass (3525m) – Malana (2625m)

View of the Malana side of the pass

As we move from Chanderkhani pass towards Malana, for a brief period I get mobile coverage from BSNL and I shoot off messages to family giving them my co-ordinates. The descent from the ridge is initially gradual. We reach a rock face where the path is not discernible - destroyed by goats tramping around, my guide informs me. I make my way forward taking steps gingerly.

The hill side progressively gets steeper. The road leading to the dam of the Malana - II hydro electric project, an ugly white gash doubling up on the green hill side is visible far below. Loosing height continuously, and with the advancing afternoon, we are now in the shadow of the Chanderkhani ridge.

The descent is relentless and it appears as if we are climbing down into a deep dark almost conical hole. The hill side is steep and a slip will mean certain oblivion.

Momentarily, I feel confused. Where Am I? Is this a dream or is it for real. Panic strikes me. Is my confusion because of extreme tiredness? I sit down, hailing to Hira to wait. I find something to eat in my bag, drink some water, and rest a while. Then it is time to resume. I keep my eyes focused on where I am going to put my next foot, my mind on the next step. Step after interminable step.

Compare with the first photo for a feel of the height loss

The track leads to a mountain stream, now dry, that tumbles down into the Malana River. We make our way down hopping over boulders. Looking down the course of the stream makes me nervous, for after some point, it is not visible, possibly having taken on a steeper gradient downwards. Eventually, we get off the stream and the path goes down the side of a hill more gently. Hira strikes up conversation with a goatherd, the first person we meet after leaving the pass. We are in a field of cannabis which has been harvested, only the bare stalks now left on the ground. Malana cannot be very far.

It is a little after four when we enter through the upper end of Malana village. Men standing in a group some way away stare at us unabashedly.

A thin man with glazed eyes and untidy appearance accosts me and asks in pidgin English if I would like some charas. We inspect the Dragon guest house and settle for a room with two beds for all of Rs 250, order our dinner and make ourselves comfortable in a balcony overlooking the village. 

The village is spread out on flat ground, at some height above the Malana river. The river itself is far below and cannot be seen. What can be seen is the road on the hill across from the river used to approach the dam of the Malana - II project, several km upstream, where the rivers waters are diverted into a tunnel. The high peaks surrounding the village ensure that it is in the shadow of the mountains for much of the day, like it is now.

The houses are scattered about in no particular order and it is hard to discern any streets. Only a few have traditional slate tiled roofs; the majority have tin roofs. Some are garishly painted with red roofs and walls, some in blue. In the midst of this jumble, there are a few constructions of steel and concrete with flat roofs, unfinished columns left for future expansions. Overall, the village has a far from pleasing appearance.

A group of young men – they say they are from Gujarat – are the other tourists at the lodge besides us. Surprisingly they don’t ask me my name – they only want to know my profession. They have come up from the Jari side and are clearly not here for trekking – and this becomes more apparent later that night.  In the gathering dusk a Shepard returns with his flock. It starts getting really cold and we move inside for the rest of the evening.

Malana - I project dam

Malana (2625m) – Malana roadhead (2000m)

The next morning we wake up Prem, the manager of the guest house, to make tea. Barely have we settled down with the drink, when Prem gets a call on his mobile and he is all tensed up. A rescue is to be mounted to look for a young man from Mumbai who has been missing from Kasol for a week. Prem is a regular with the rescue team composed of villagers of that area and police officials. He has been asked to report to Jari immediately from where the team will fan out to Pulga, Kulga, Josh and Kasol to look for the missing youth. In 5 minutes, Prem has dressed, has his Kulu cap on, and is on his way to Jari. 

It is just past 7 am. Before leaving for Jari, we decide to take a walk through the village. The streets are dirty with slush and the discarded plastic strewn about. The temple of Jamlu devta, the local deity is a three story wood and stone structure in traditional architecture with carved wooden panels. Signs in several places forbid visitors to touch the temple walls or even take photographs. The few villagers we pass on our way out do not greet us or evince any interest in us.

Malana river bed

The descent from Malana village to the road is even steeper than the descent of the previous day. The path winds down the side of a hill that falls straight to the river. The stones placed along the path are covered with a fine powder. Heavy downward steps result in a slide. I slip a couple of times and start choosing my steps carefully. A couple of girls from Malana, busy in conversation, close in from behind rapidly. Momentarily distracted, I fail to control my step, slip and land heavily on my back. I see concern writ on the faces of the girls. Hira too looks worried and offloads me of my backpack. The fall has left my palms bleeding from abrasions, but what is worse, badly shaken my confidence. 

I proceed extremely slowly from there on. My legs are stiff from the previous day’s trek. I have also managed to badly stub the toes on both my feet, and every downward step is painful. We are making our way down a sheer cliff now and there is no leeway for a mistake. I concentrate on my walking as I have never done before, testing every step before easing my weight on the leg. The descent seems interminable.

A linesman at work

At last the path levels out by a stream. I wash my bloodied palms with soap in its sparkling waters. A few minutes later, we reach Malana river and the road. It is 10.30 am.

Malana roadhead -> Jari

There are two ‘run of the river’ hydroelectric projects on the Malana river. The road going past the foot path leading to Malana services a dam several km upstream where the river water is diverted into the tunnel of the Malana – II project. The project has been completed, but the road remains unfinished. So also is a tunnel bored through rock that we walk through before reaching the site where the water after driving the turbines is released back to the river. 

The pond where water is diverted for the Malana – I project lies just beyond. After this point, the road is in better condition and follows the left bank of the river downstream. Hira tells me of his visits to Malana before the Malana – I project came up. The trek then involved walking through forest and along the river on its right bank.

The stairway down to Jari road

Walking down the road, we have company in a young man from Chamba, who is also walking to Jari to get some medicines for a sick colleague.  He tells us that he has been working as a carpenter cum mason at Malana for the past 3 months on a daily wage of Rs 350. He presents a bleak picture of life in Malana – the addiction of men to charas and drink from an early age, the lack of any outlets for outsiders to relax, the lack of medical facilities and non-availability of medicines, the lax morals concerning marriage and sex and the overall lawlessness of the place. 

The villagers are flush with money from growing Cannabis. Officials, from the police downwards, do not interfere in the affairs of the villagers, either because they are afraid to, or for other reasons, he avers. Our conversation comes to a abrupt end when he gets a lift in a truck taking other workers down to Jari.

The Malana and Parvati rivers meet just below Jari. However the Malana – I project carries the waters of the Malana in pipes downhill directly into the Parvati, some km upstream of their confluence.

Malana meets Parvati

A staircase, presumably for the use of maintenance workers, descends to the Parvati alongside the huge pipe carrying the Malana’s waters and this is our path for the last part of our trek. Crossing a bridge over the Parvati, we stand at the gates of the Malana – I power plant on the Jari – Manikaran road at 12.30 pm. In a few minutes, we board a Manikaran bus.

Back in Naggar, my host tells me that Malana used to be a pretty village with traditional structures until a fire destroyed most of the houses some years back.

Ascent to Chandarkhani Pass








Himalayan Trek 7, Nov 2012

The Chanderkhani Pass trek - 1 Nov 2012

I had already spent several days in Naggar recovering my lung capacity with small walks down to the market and up towards Rumsu and the idea of a trek over the Chanderkhani pass was beginning to get hold of me. When I sounded out the owner of my guest house, Bhalla Ji, he was initially discouraging. He felt it was too cold to camp near the pass. Instead, he suggested that I should take a day hike up to the pass and return to Naggar for the night. I however did not find the idea of returning from the pass very appealing.

View from Chanderkhani Pass

A day or two later, I was able to get a better picture of the possibilities, during a morning walk in the company of a man from Pulga, a village beyond Rumsu. Locals starting early, according to him, regularly got to Malana over the pass before sun down. He also acquainted me with the possibility of taking a pony or hiring a tent and sleeping bags – both of which could be done at Rumsu. Bhalla Ji meanwhile had arranged a meeting for me with Hira, a young man in his employ, who was also a trained guide. Hira confirmed that we could get to Malana in a day and my plans were made.

Rumsu (2200m) – Chanderkhani Pass (3525m)

We leave at about 6.30 am from Naggar. A warm-up walk to Rumsu the previous day had convinced me that it would be prudent to get a drop to Rumsu in a car, saving perhaps a half hour and a steep climb. Hira has arranged for a car and we are on our  way from Rumsu (2200 m) by 6.50 am, carrying only day bags with some water, food and extra warm clothes.

The first part of the trek is through a forest. There are many paths immediately above Rumsu and I am happy that I have a guide. As we go up, the snow capped peaks of the further ranges of the Dhauladhar across the Beas valley become visible. We pass some nice camping sites. With some more altitude gain, the Beas valley right up to Manali unfolds before us. I feel the beginings of a cramp in one of my legs. We stop at 9.30 am in a nice sunny pasture at a height of 2950 m for our lunch and that gives me some time to recover.

Beas Valley extending to Manali

As we move up further, we encounter a sprinkling of snow that crunches under my boots and solid ice blocks near water trickling from a mountain spring. At a height of about 3100 m, Hira startles a Monal and it takes flight and gracefully glides over the deep valley distancing itself from us by hours in the matter of a minute. The vegetation has started changing by now and all one can see is bare Bhojpatra trees and Rhododendron shrubs.

The sun is blinding and I am thankful that I have not forgotten my shades and sunscreen. For the first time, the pass becomes visible as a long ridge almost transverse to the direction we are walking. With further height gain, only the Rhododendrons are left and still further up, only a thin layer of browned grass. We reach what appears to be an entrance gate to the Chanderkhani top area marked by piles of stones on either side at 1 pm. It has been a fairly easy trek - but tiring, climbing 1400 ms over 13 kms in a period of 7 hrs!

'Entrance gate' with the Dhauladhars in the far background

The path now follows the top of the ridge which divides the watersheds of the Beas and the Malana/Parvati rivers. For the first time, the latter watershed becomes visible. While the access to the Chanderkhani top has been gentle, on the other side, the ridge falls steeply. Rock piles in the shape of pillars mark the top at several places along the ridge. Looking north, a line of jagged rocky peaks with snow is visible, somewhere in the direction of the source of the Parvathi and Malana rivers.

We reach a large grassy open space in which are obviously planted stones of different shapes and sizes arranged in no particular order. Hira points to a stone planted by him on an earlier trip. He explains that the local villagers consider this to be a sacred area of the devtas. I sit down to enjoy the view and rest my tired legs.

A little ahead, sheltered by a rock, a group of villagers are enjoying a meal they have cooked right there. They invite us to share their lunch. I am not particularly hungry but Hira seems keen, so I ask him to go ahead and join them.

A while later I join the group. They are from a village a few kms south from Naggar and made their way here yesterday with two goats. Their night stay was planned in a cave nearby but apparently their was no water there, so they ended up melting snow for water and spending the night in the open huddling around a fire! This morning, after sacrificing the goats as an offering to the devatas, they have just cooked a meal of rice and meat and Hira gets to enjoy a part of it. Hira had guessed as much from afar and that was the reason he was very keen to join them. 

Two goat skins with traces of blood are lying on the ground near where we sit. The better part of the meat has been packed in huge sacks to be carried back to the village. Hira assures me that it will not spoil in the cold weather. The food was tasty, but would have been hot for me, he tells me.

It is close to 2 pm and I am keen to get started. I have been warned that the descent to Malana is very steep and I am more than a little worried, given the tiredness in my legs. We bid goodbye to the group and move towards a natural gateway with pillars on either side that marks the point where the path leaves Chanderkhani top.

A map showing the trek route - Rumsu -> Chanderkhani Pass -> Malana -> Jari


Part 2 - The harrowing descent to Malana

   

The sights and sounds of Naggar

I am the only paying passenger left on the bus overnight bus from Delhi as it pulls into the busy Kulu bus stand - a handful of others left in the bus after Mandi are all employees of the bus company. I climb into a brightly colored bus which is going to Manali but that is not my destination. The bus crosses over to the left bank of the Beas and makes its way up slowly on a winding road.

Naggar

We drive through the Kulu Valley, just a few kms wide, with hills rising steeply on either side. The area near the river and the lower hill sides are continuously dotted with habitations. Apple orchards fill the open spaces – the trees bare and leafless in their winter form.

A little over an hour into the ride, we reach a busy market place and this is my stop. The ancient village of Naggar, the capital of the Kulu state for a thousand years, is located up a hill a short walk from here. A road heads towards it with several switch backs. Just across from a large structure called the 'Castle', I locate a family run guest house which has a room with a view.

And what a view it is! Sitting on the balcony, I look down upon the Beas flowing far below. Across the river, the hills rise in layers with scattered snow marking the tallest peaks in the far background. It is cold inside the room but beautiful in the sun splashed balcony. One can spend the better part of the day doing nothing here.

A courtyard of the Castle

But there are many things to do and places to visit in Naggar. First on my list is to check out the curiously named ‘Castle’. In a few minutes, I stand before a dignified old rectangular structure that is entirely made of wood and stone – with no cement or iron in evidence, anywhere.  A large board explains that this was the residence of the royals of Kulu state when Naggar was the capital. It has now been converted into a state run hotel.

I discover that the best way to enjoy the Castle is to sit in its open balcony and have lunch. A corner table allows me to soak in the graceful courtyard of the palace and the vast expanse of the Beas valley below.

The departure of the Devi

On Deepavali day only a couple of days later, I have occasion to visit the Castle again. Stepping out for my morning walk, I see a group of men in traditional Kulu caps collecting at the Castle entrance. There is a perceptible excitement in the air. The sound of drums and trumpets emanates from within. I decide to abandon my walk and join the others who are now entering the Castle.

One of the courtyards of the Castle has a tiny temple with the name of Jagati Patt and this is the scene of all the action. A devi who has taken temporary residence at this temple is about to be carried back to her permanent home. I learn that it is a very special occasion for the people of Naggar for the devi has come here after 370 years. An elaborate ritual is about to be played out.

A band of musicians with long curved trumpets and large drums stand facing the temple, playing their instruments. The palki (palanquin) is taken out and readied. A white lamb brought for the occasion is sacrificed and its head offered to the devi before she is moved into the palki, now resting on the shoulders of two young men. Village elders gather around.

An elderly man takes up a litany in Kului with others responding to his supplications when he pauses. I understand enough to make out that he is pleading with the devi not to leave. The palki sways in the direction of the exit, signaling that the devi wishes to leave. Other elders take their turns, pleading. The crowd is somber, moved by the entreaties, awaiting the inevitable. A burly priest who has all along been conducting the ceremonies in a business like fashion starts sobbing. The time has come.

Youth bearing flags lead the way followed by the musicians. Then comes the palki escorted out by the people of Naggar who bid goodbye. The procession, a hundred or more people strong, marches swiftly downhill. I join in, reveling in the energy of the crowd.

The marchers are friendly and invite me to come with them all the way. It is then that I learn that this is going to be a really long march. The destination for the day is Kullu, 25 kms away! It is only the next day that the devi will reach her abode in the mountains and she has already been traveling for 8 days! Reaching the next village, I bid goodbye to my newly made friends and take a bus back to Naggar. The morning has offered far more than I could have imagined.

Art in the Himalayas

Just a km up on the winding mountain road is the house which Nicholas Roerich, the renowned painter and humanist made his home. It now houses an art gallery with several of his paintings. I spend an afternoon absorbing the works of a man who was in love with the Himalayas and conveys its mystique. I am transported to a bygone era - of poets, reformers, dreamers, philosophers – who dreamt impossible dreams.

Next door to Roerich’s house is ‘Uruswati’, an institute he established to document the traditional medical knowledge of the Himalayan peoples, among other activities. What was once an Institution with international connections is now a museum, with all scientific activity abandoned after Roerich’s death in 1947. I leave feeling sad at how the dreams and efforts of such a pioneer could not be sustained in independent India.

Rumsu

Yet another day, I set out at dawn on the road going up from Naggar. A Himalayan Thrush whistling away a merry tune is the first bird up. The brown peaks across the Beas start taking on a warm golden tinge. I confirm from two men warming themselves around a fire that I should take the steep cemented staircase leading off from the road.

As the morning advances, the range across the Beas is brightly lit up. A pair of snow peaks peeps over the brown hills in the far north. The air is filled with birdsong. A school boy goes racing past me heading downwards.

The temple in Rumsu

Walking past a neat school building, I enter the village of Rumsu. It is 7.30 in the morning and people are already out working – collecting hay for their cattle and horses, laying out the golden corn on the cob on their roofs to sun dry. I pass the village temple, a beautiful structure in traditional style and then reach the main square, a large open space with more old temples. At the end of the village there is an area fenced off with a small shrine in its midst and a sign warning people against entering the area of the devtas.

The sacred forest

A shopkeeper points to the path that leads to Chandar Khani pass - with its reputed views of the Dhauladhar and Pir Panjal ranges – that I will take tomorrow. But for today, it is time to return. On the way back, a flock of magpies in an orchard tease me, always managing to stay out of reach of my camera.

Chanderkhani pass trek

An old piece on Naggar from the Deccan Herald