On a pilgrim trail

Our trek starts at Lohajung, a small town in the Chamoli district of Uttarakhand, north of Almora and Kausani. For much of the next week, we will walk the trail of the Nanda Devi Raj Jat Yatra. The yatra organized once in 12 years symbolizes, for the faithful, the return of devi Nanda to Kailash after her visit to her mait (maternal home). The yatra takes pilgrims right up to the base of the Trisul massif at the edge of the Nanda Devi sanctuary. This ancient trail has been ‘rediscovered’ by trekking enthusiasts.

The path we take descends to a valley floor past terraced hillsides and patches of forest. The fields, their shapes dictated by the contours of the land, display crops of wheat, maize and potatoes. Horses graze in separate pastures. 

Ali Bugyal

Trim houses - made of stone and often double storied, with wooden windows and doors and slate roofs – stand scattered about. Narrow concrete channels lead down the hill slopes to water storage tanks in the fields. On a bright summer morning it is a pretty country. Reaching the floor of the valley, we cross a stream and climb up to halt at the village of Didina.

The next day, we start on a climb through a forest of Oak and Rhododendron to get to the bugyals - grassy meadows above the tree line - located above Didina. Deep inside the forest, I come across a group of young girls wearing colourful clothes, earrings and nose studs, and with sacks slung around their shoulders accompanied by an older woman. They greet me with a polite namaste and are not shy to talk but firmly refuse to be photographed. They have come to collect jhoola (lichen) in the forest. I later learn that the lichens from this area are procured by pharmaceutical and perfume industry and even exported.

Ali Bugyal

We emerge from the tree line on a grassy mountain slope with brilliant blue sky for a backdrop. I climb up to the ridge for a 360 degree view. The incredibly beautiful expanse of Ali bugyal unfolds to the north, stretching as far as the eye can see, its surface lovingly sculpted by the elements. 

Nanda Ghunti seen from near Bedni Bugyal

 In the distance, shiny black buffaloes make their way in single file over the pale green tinted silver grass, with no herder in sight. We have a long exhilarating walk over the length of the bugyal with grand views of mountain, cloud and sky.

The next day, the early morning sun lights up the great Himalayan snow peaks in full view of our camp at Bedni Kund. I recognize the fortress like Chaukhamba massif, the unmistakable pyramid shape of Neelkant standing sentinel over Badrinath and the pretty Nanda Ghunti (the veil of Nanda) standing so close. But most dramatic of all is the view from the trail of the knife edge ridge of Trisul rising majestically in waves to the pinnacle over 7000 m high.

The trail now is a paved stone path, visible over great distances. During the yatra, an endless line of pilgrims in colourful raincoats, and carrying staves, umbrellas and kitbags would be making its way over it. Now, it appears as a thin tear on the green paint of the hills. Below us, a huge flock of white sheep in perfect V formation moves over a bugyal. The shaggy sheep dogs wear metal collars with jagged edges; the danger from the baag (leopard) is real.

 We camp at the Pather Nachauniya (dancing stones) campsite. The graphic names of places along this trail are all part of the folklore of the Nanda Devi yatra. A fierce storm that evening that nearly blows away our tents serves to remind us of the violence that nature is capable of here in the lap of the Himalayas.

Trishul looming over the trail

The trail onward ascends a cliff, at the top of which is a little shrine dedicated to Ganesh with a black idol, appropriately named Kalu Vinayak. We have left the bugyals behind. The landscape is now bleak and the hillsides are covered with loose stones and streaked with snow.Dark clouds have descended to hide the mountain tops. Our next campsite, Baguwa Basa is set in these chilling surroundings.

We start walking at the crack of dawn. The trail climbs a mountain face, crossing several steeply angled snow fields. The hard and crunchy snow must be negotiated very carefully a step at a time; a slip will mean an uncontrolled slide down a slope whose bottom we cannot see. After a tense climb we reach the edge of a large crater set against a jagged wall of rock rising into the sun. The crater bottom, now partly in shade, is translucent ice with a sprinkling of snow. We have reached the famous Roopkund, a spot on every Himalayan trekker’s wish-list.

I climb a snow covered slope beside the crater halfway to the ridge line. Trisul rises over two km above where I stand, appearing as an inverted cone of rock and snow from this angle.

Trishul from Roopkund

During the yatra, pilgrims, many barefoot, climb the ridge to descend on the far side at the foot of Trisul. But this is as far as I will go. The return journey is already weighing on my mind; the snow on the slopes would have started to melt making the path slippery. I reach camp at Bedni Kund late afternoon, exhausted and feverish.

The walk down from Bedni is a relaxed affair. I get talking to Raju, a tailor from Lohajung, who has been ferrying our supplies on his khacchars (mules). He has lovingly named them Bunty and Babli, names to which they respond. They have large bells and colourful collars around their necks. They are loyal and can find their own way on the trails, he tells me with obvious pride.

At a clearing, we come across a man resting taking in the grand view; a backpack lies beside him with a small solar panel and an umbrella trussed to it. Umrao Singh has been camping in the higher reaches of the bugyals for several days collecting keeda jadi, a kind of caterpillar killed and mummified by a fungal infection. The jadi is prized in China as an aphrodisiac and for its use in Chinese and Tibetan traditional medicine and somehow finds its way across borders. Umrao shows me one keeda from the precious handful he has collected. That one alone could be worth a couple of hundred rupees!

Our last halt before the trek ends at Vaan village is at the small temple of Latu devta set under a beautiful clump of Deodhar trees. Latu devta, in folklore, is the adopted brother of Nanda devi. The great yatra stops here on its way up so that Latu can escort Nanda to Kailash.


This is my second travel piece published by EPW