The trek to Chandranahan - June 2014

The Pabbar near Sandasu

The Pabbar river, a tributary of the Tons and eventually of the Yamuna originates in a range of the lesser Himalayas known as Gangdari Dhar. 

I had spent several days at the government guest house in Sandasu along the Pabbar river waiting for my trekking companions to turn up, keeping myself fit with long walks. A day before our planned meeting I was informed that the trek had been cancelled. 

I decided to explore Pabbar valley on my own. At the dhaba across from the guest house I learnt that it was possible to trek up the Pabbar valley to Chandra Nahan, a series of lakes that fed the Pabbar river. Guides (usually shepherds) could be found in Janglik, the last habitation on the Pabbar. I made a plan to visit Janglik the next day. What follows is the record from my diary.

6th June: Sandasu - Tangnu - Janglik - Sandasu

View from Tangnu

My day starts with morning walk of 4 km followed by chai and breakfast of alu offered by the Lala at the dhaba opposite Sandasu government guest house. I catch the 8.30 bus to Dhamwari. Reaching Dhamwari, I find that I have just missed the shared taxi to Tangnu. I start walking on the Tangnu road in the company of a Rohru resident who is heading for a job interview at the hydro project upstream.

After walking 2 or 3 km, we get a lift in a jeep. We pass a dam site with construction in progress. Retaining walls along the side have collapsed - I learn during the floods of last year. This is a mini hydel project - 2*25 MW, one of many along the Pabbar and its tributaries. Construction seems lackadaisical - there are few workers to be seen, structures are incomplete and rubble strewn around the sites with none of the original greenery left. Metal roads have been turned into dusty tracks exposing road users to a constant cloud of dust.

Tangnu and its fields

The jeep drops me in Tangnu, a sleepy village with a single shop. I learn that guides to Chandranahan will be found only in Janglik. The shop keeper informs me of a shortcut to reach the place if I am walking.

Janglik is on the right bank of the Pabbar like Tangnu, but separated by a deep chasm created by a tributary of the Pabbar, the Supin Khad. The road to Janglik winds down from Tangnu to bridge the chasm and then rises again. The short cut I take cuts through paddy fields to the bridge. On the other side, the road has turned to mud and rubble from the movement of heavy equipment. There is a dust haze over a barren area with warning signs and heavy earth working machinery. The Pabbar lies to the right. The road ascends a steep hill to the left to Janglik village.

Rubble on the banks of the Pabbar at Janglik

Village temple, Janglik

The entire hillside has been taken over by the hydroelectric project to house workers  and equipment. The project goes by the name of Tangnu Dhamwari (Romai) hydel project executed by the Tangnu Romai Power Generation Pvt Ltd. ( apparently a special purpose vehicle of PCP International Ltd and the NSL group). It is one of the many projects coming up on the Pabbar river. 

The waters of the Supin Khad are diverted into a tunnel three km upstream of its junction with the Pabbar. The tunnel goes through the hill on which Janglik village is located and deposits the waters of the Supin Khad into the Pabbar a little upstream of the natural confluence of the two, where a barrage dams the waters of the two rivers.

It is extremely unpleasant walking on the dusty road under a hot sun up the hill. I find shortcuts used by the workers and scramble up till I reach what is presumably a canteen for project workers. Here I find a Janglik villager who is prepared to take me to Chandranahan the next day. We settle on his fee and the logistics for the trip after which he takes me on a tour of the village.

My guide, Shish Kumar has some sort of casual employment at the project - he claims to be a supervisor of a work gang earning Rs 12000-15000 a month. He is willing to absent himself without giving notice to go with me. At his home I meet his wife and his 80 year old father who is wrinkled beyond imagination. Waiting for the lunch - khichidi - to be prepared, I have some time to get acquainted with Shish Kumar.

View from the road near Tangnu

Janglik school has only one teacher. Shish Kumar prefers to send his children to a private school and they stay with their aunt away from the village. He does not get much income from his land - the apple trees are only 10 years old and not mature and the condition of the roads makes it difficult to transport and sell cash crops like potato and onion. So these are mostly consumed locally. Shish's ancestors are shepherds and he still owns a large flock though he has outsourced its care.

One end of Janglik

What does he think of the project, I ask Shish Kumar. Good and bad, he says. Good because there is some employment. Bad because drilling disturbs the water table, the cattle, and causes other damage. I ask him if he has already experienced problems. He says not yet, but is convinced it will happen.

In spite of maintaining a brisk pace and using all available shortcuts, I miss the 2.30 bus out of Tangnu. After walking a bit, I get a lift in a jeep that acts as a school ferry, transporting teachers from a school near Tangnu back home closer to Rohru. Two women police constables board the jeep. They have been recently posted from Mandi to the project area. Smartly dressed, confident, bright, they hold their own among the male government officials in the jeep. The main problems they have to deal with, I learn, are fights between workers and stealing of company property.

Shish Kumars House, Janglik

7th June: Sandasu - Chirgaon - Sandasu - Tangnu - Janglik

It is a slow day. I walk to Chirgaon and do some shopping in preparation for the next days trek. That evening, I return to Janglik and stay the night with Shish in his 2 story wooden house. He has arranged a sleeping bag for me that we will carry. Hiring a tent turns out to be very expensive, so we plan to stay in shepherd shelters.

8th June: Janglik (9300 ft) to Litham Thatch (11600 ft)

We start our trek from Janglik at 5.30 am catching the trail above the village. The first part of the walk is through a forest of kail (Pine). Breakfast stop is at 7 am by which time we are at 10000 ft. We reach a meadow at 11000 ft named Dayara at 9.45.

Dayara

A group of shepherds are gathered around a fire and Shish heads straight for them. He explains that we should meet them as we will be staying at their camp in Litham Thatch that night. We approach warily watching the sheep dogs that have sounded  the alarm. 

Shepherds camp at Dayara

Getting closer, I see that a ram has been killed and its entrails are being cooked. The main meat pieces are being dried in the sun. The earth around is soaked with blood. We are invited to join in the meal. A plateful of liver, probably the best part of the meat that has been cooked, is handed to me. The others - Shish included - eat up all the entrails with great relish. After the meal, the main hunks of meat are packed in a gunny bag to be taken back to the village and the camp disbanded.

We resume our walk. Further ahead, looking up into the Pabbar valley, Shish points out the Gunas pass - a flat top towards the right. Buran pass is hidden by a turn the valley takes to the left. By 1.45pm, we are at another meadow named Litham Thatch (3550m). This is our destination for the day.

We sit down in front of a shelter where we are joined by a couple of  shepherds. The shelter is made entirely of flat stones piled one on top of another without the use of any cementing material. We take out our packed lunch - boiled eggs and roti with egg bujiya, sharing it with the others.

First view of Gunas pass

I walk around and explore Litham and investigate the water source, an underground spring on the edge of a steep slope. The sheep dogs we first saw in Dayara first arrive, later followed by the sheep. We also have some visitors - shepherds who are just back from Sangla. They have just taken the first flock of sheep this season over the Buran pass to Kinnaur. The sheep tramping in line over the snow have opened up a route over the pass. According to them, the pass can be crossed starting from Litham in a day provided we start early. 

I am tempted to attempt the pass the next day. A major part of my luggage is still in Shish's place in Janglik. But there is a solution for that - the shepherd who has come from Sangla is heading for Janglik anyway. He is willing to go there and come back with my bag in time for us to leave next morning. He is also willing to guide us over the pass and carry my bag over, though he will not come all the way to Sangla.

View of Gunas pass from Litham

Unfortunately, negotiations with Shish on payment for the extra days required for crossing the pass fall through. He wants to be payed his daily guide fees not only till the trek ends in Sangla but also for the days he will be in transit from Sangla to Janglik via Rampur and Rohru. In addition, he wants his hotel stay and bus fare covered.

Soon it is time to prepare dinner. For the shepherds, it is going to be chapati and a curry made from the brain of the sheep that was slaughtered earlier. I am content with a tasteless khichidi that Shish cooks for me using one of the few vessels that the shepherds possess. I have to quickly eat it up as the same vessel will be used for making the brain curry. The head of the sheep is placed over the fire to remove the skin and hair. The skull is then smashed into small pieces and thrown into a broth.

As the evening progresses, there is a strong bitterly cold breeze blowing and I am chilled to the bone. The shepherds see me shivering and give me a blanket to cover myself. The breeze apparently starts up the same time every evening but thankfully subsides after a while. Otherwise I would be frozen stiff tonight.

The shelter at Litham

It is time to gather the sheep around the shelter. A new born kid - just 5 days old - has been carried by the shepherds and has been bleating for its mother. It cannot as yet walk and is roughly handled by the senior shepherd and left abandoned near the camp all day. Towards evening, it is used as a bait to get milk from its mother. A shepherd carries the kid towards the flock to draw its mothers attention and then heads back. The mother follows him, is promptly tied up and milked. It is a hard life for the kid!

The rotis are cooked on a fire inside the shelter. A fat lump of dough is patted down by hand and baked over the fire for the oldest dog, a 14 year old and wearing a jagged metal collar as protection against wild cats. 

I am informed that he is very fierce and readily takes on wild animals - he has been mauled once by a big cat. The other dogs are just given lumps of uncooked dough - they are fit and can digest it. The shepherds then set upon the brain curry, leaving the chewed up bones for the dogs.

Dinner over, I slip into my sleeping bag. The others - Shish and two shepherds - share a huge blanket. One of them is a old man - perhaps over 60 years. He has been doing the cooking. The other is a tall and handsome young man - Prem I will call him - who has been spending time with the sheep all evening. (Prem was actually his brothers name. I met him while walking from Tangnu to Janglik)

Long shot of Chandranahan waterfall from Litham

Prem, it tuns out has been with other trekkers before and has undergone some sort of training in trekking. We converse easily into the night while Shish keeps up a conversation in the local dialect with the older shepherd.

There are exactly 865 sheep in his flock, and  four shepherds are taking care of them. Two have gone back to Janglik for a rest, while Prem and his elder companion remain with the herd. Every few days, there is a change of hands and another batch of four shepherds will replace them. The sheep belong to various families in the village. About 40, if I remember right, belong to Shish kumar. The flock under their care consists of both sheep and goats. 

Looking up towards Chadranahan  from up closer

Sheep eat grass while goats chew on brambles. So they are taken to different spots for grazing. At night, the sheep are brought into a small circle near the campsite to sleep with the sheepdogs on watch. There are 4 sheepdogs with this group. I am assured that they will attack any intruder who tries to take away the sheep. The sheep are marked so that the owners in the village can identify them.

I learn that the sheep spend the summer in these high altitude pastures, moving from pasture to pasture every few days when the available fodder gets exhausted.. Villages have their own reserved pastures.The winter grazing grounds are in the foothills. So there is an yearly migration. Around Oct 15 to 20, they start on a trek to Paonta Sahib via Khara Patthar. The journey takes 30 to 35 days. A permit is needed for grazing in the forests of Nahan near Paonta Sahib. The permit costs 30-40 p/cattle and 70 p/sheep.

Half way up to the waterfall

9th June: Litham thatch (3550 m) - Chandranahan (3950 m) - Litham

After a breakfast of maggie, we start the trek towards Chandranahan at 6.30 am. My relations with Shish are frosty after yesterdays failed negotiations. 

It is a steep climb alongside a frozen stream. Our target is the head of a water fall visible from Litham thatch. We make our way up skirting the hard snow but are forced by the topography to cross the steep frozen surface several times. During one crossing, I slip and just manage to dig in my trekking pole into the snow to provide an anchor. It is 9 am when we reach the head of the waterfall, marked by prayer stones. We have climbed to about 3950 m.

Litham from the head of the fall

Beyond the waterfall, we reach a sort of level ground with high peaks on either side and at the far end. Chandranahan is supposed to be a system of seven lakes extending over a km, fed by an underground spring. I can imagine where the lakes could be located. But right now, all I can see is a frozen landscape. The stream leading from the lakes to the water fall is visible as flowing water only near the fall. Upstream it disappears under hard snow. 

Sheesh informs me that beyond this point, according to local custom, we cannot proceed wearing leather shoes. It is out of the question to walk on the ice without footwear. I am inclined to believe that Shish is making things up a bit. I am aware that local custom prohibits leather articles at Chandranahan, but it seems to me that we are still some distance

Chandranahan ?

from the lakes. Anyhow, I decide to humor Sheesh and return; inwardly I am fuming. By 10 am, we are back at the shelter. Sheesh tells me stories of the misfortunes that have befallen people who have violated the 'no leather' code at Chandranahan including being pelted by massive hailstones and meeting with various accidents. The elder shepherd at the camp agrees with Sheesh and adds his own stories.

Litham - evening view

Litham - Janglik

I take leave of the elder shepherd - Prem is away with the flock - and we start on the return journey. After a while, I hear loud hailing from a height over the trail and see Prem running down the mountain slope towards us slithering and sliding away but without reducing his speed. We bid goodbye to each other promising to meet in Janglik that night. Prem then runs back uphill with boundless energy to return to his flock. 

Dayara - another view

The return trek should have been easy, but turns out to be tortuous. The sole of one shoe of mine comes apart. I am carrying a shoe glue ... I stop by a pile of snow to clean the surfaces and apply the glue. The shoe holds for a while and then gives way again. After several such attempts, I finally give up and pack the sole in by backpack.

The morning climb to Chandranahan has tired me. The broken shoe does not help and my pace - though we are loosing height - is poor. We reach Janglik towards evening - 6 pm , 7 hrs into the trek. I am exhausted and stretch out on the boundary wall of Sheesh Kumar's house. He has work to attend to before he can get down to making our dinner. He has a couple of small gardens with vegetables adjoining his house and these need to be watered.

Janglik - another view

10th June: Janglik - Tangnu - Rohru - Rampur

I get up at 5 and go for a 'morning walk' with Sheesh. Only one or two houses in the village have toilets - the rest use a patch of forest beyond the village. I leave Janglik at 6 and reach the bus stop at Tangnu by 7.10 after a vigorous walk. By 10.15, I am at Rohru, have lunch at a dhaba and catch the 12.30 bus to Rampur. That evening, after taking up a room at the Rampur bus stand, I attend to the most pressing task on hand - getting my shoe resoled!

Himalayan Trek 11, June 2014

Birds - Kanchenzonga National Park Trek

Sighted the following birds between April 25th and May 5th in Yuksom and along the Goecha La trail in the Kanchendzonga National Park in West Sikkim bordering Nepal. Besides the birds shown below, also spotted White Capped Water Redstarts, Jungle Crows and Snow Pigeons.

Barn Swallow, Yuksom (1800 m)

Black Bulbul - Yuksom

Verditer Flycatcher - Yuksom

Verditer Flycatcher - Bakhim (2800 m)

Black Redstart ? Yuksom

Striated Bulbul on Yuksom - Sachen trail (1800 - 2200 m)

Rufous Sibia on Yuksom - Sachen trail

White Throated Laughing Thrush - Sachen (2200 m)

Some type of Warbler ? Sachen - Tsokha (3000 m)

Blue Fronted Redstart - Tsokha

Some type of Pipit ? - Tsokha

Grandala - Thangsing (3900 m)

Robin Accentor - Above Samiti Lake (4300 m)

Spot Winged Grosbeak
Lamuney - Thangsing trail (4200 - 3900 m)

Spot Winged Grosbeak - Male & female at Sachen

Dodra - Kwar diary June 2014

4 June 2014:

I first hear of Chanshal pass and the Sandasu HPPCL guest house during an early morning conversation drinking tea at a dhaba near the Himachal government guest house in Rohru (pronounced Rohdu). Keen to get away from the traffic, noise and pollution of Rohru as quickly as possible, I rush back, pack and head for the bus stand. If I am lucky, I should be able to leave my luggage in Sandasu and catch the 11am bus to Dodra-Kwar that will traverse the Chanshal pass. (See wikipedia for more on Chanshal)

I get to Sandasu in quick time, but getting the room at the guest house takes longer than expected. The caretaker is not to be found and I am directed to the Executive Engineers office, some distance away. I meet the EE's assistant, fill a form and then meet the EE. After a brief chat he agrees to give me a room for 3 days. After a lunch of Rajma chawal at the Sandasu market, I get the last bus for the day to Dodra-Kwar around 1.30 pm.

There is only standing room in the bus. The bus conductor is a tall man ever smiling and constantly joking with the passengers. When I ask for a ticket for Chanshal pass, he is surprised and starts to dissuades me from the idea of getting off the bus there saying that there is a good chance that I will not get a return vehicle. Not wanting to be stranded in the cold onmorthe road at night, I buy a ticket for Dodra - Rs 95. At 3 pm, the crew stops for a break at Larot ( pronounced Ladot), still some distance short of the pass.

View from Chanshal pass

There is still some snow in patches on Chanshal top which presents a magnificent view of a range of snow clad peaks and deep valleys of green. The bus stops and the crew and some passengers get down and walk to a small shrine to pay obeisance. Coconut pieces and freshly gathered snow get distributed around the bus. The atmosphere is jovial. Everyone seems exhilarated, not just the few obvious tourists. The villagers of this area must have been over the pass many times, but Chanshal still has this effect on them.

This pass is snow bound in the winter and I learn that it was opened for busses only 5 days ago. The Dodra-Kwar region is ringed in by high snow covered peaks on all sides and this road is its only connection with the rest of Himachal Pradesh. ( There is another route used by people - a trekking path along the Rupin river, but that leads to Netwar, a remote region of Uttarakhand). A high range separates this area from the Sangla valley. Trekkers take several days to cross this range into Sangla, but I hear that that local villagers reach Sangla valley in 7-8 hrs from Kwar.

View from Chanshal

The descent from the pass to Dodra village is rapid and offers spectacular views. Most of the passengers get down at Dodra. The conductor has been on his feet for 6 hrs! Altogether, I am amazed at his good humour. He has been extremely tolerant of villagers and their idiosyncrasies. The government bus is the only affordable means of transport for most villagers and the conductor has been diligently picking up all including women and children who flag the bus along the route. Here is a man who breaks the stereotypical image of the dour and unfriendly public servant.

The conductor introduces me to the dhaba owner at Dodra. That is when I decide to carry on take my chances at Kwar. The dhaba accommodates people at night in its kitchen cum dining room. This is the only 'hotel' in Dodra.

At Chanshal

My immediate neighbour for the last part of the journey is a well built man who knows some English and carries himself with confidence. I learn that he belongs to Nahan in Sirmour district and is a graduate. He is a building contractor and executes local works in Kwar with his work gang whom he has brought from Sirmour.

Life is very difficult here, he tells me. Besides the usual agriculture and animal husbandry, the only source of livelihood for people here is the jadi booti that they collect and sell in the market. Though he is also a Himachali and from a neighbouring district, he cannot understand a word of the dialect of Kwar and converses with the locals only in Hindi. We reach the village of Kwar in pitch darkness. The bus empties and in a few moments all the passengers have vanished. Luckily for me, my new found friend has not abandoned me. He hails various shadowy figures seen in the light of his torch asking for the whereabouts of the the caretaker of the lone government rest house in Kwar.

Dodra from the Chanshal road

The caretaker is not to be found but my friend finally locates his son Suhit, only to learn that the key is with the father who is not in the village at present. Unfazed, my friend now works out an alternative - a rooming house deep in the village where I can get a bed for the night and a hot meal. He also points out Suhit's house so that I can take his help in the morning to find the rest house toilet.

It is time to say goodbye. That is when my friend and benefactor introduces himself as Gulab Singh. We shake hands warmly and bid good bye.

The boarding house is an interesting place. The other residents are a group of young men from Sirmour who sell blankets. The salesmen are all crowded into one room. I have a room made entirely to myself. A third room with a center table is occupied by a group of noisy local youth who have music blaring and are playing cards.

Kwar in the morning

5th June:

I wake up by 5 am after a disturbed sleep. It is chilly in the morning for Kwar is at 2300 m. The salesmen are up and give me a cheery greeting and enquire if I would like to take a morning walk with them. I decline and instead spend time looking for Suhit.

Unfortunately, Suhit is missing and so is his father. I am not destined to see the insides of the Kwar government guest house toilet.  An old villager offers to guide me to the outdoor toilet area of the village. He takes me to a bridge across a small stream towards one end of the village and motions that I should go under it. There are a few other men squatting along the stream and that gives me the general idea.

The temples of Kwar

I am at the bus stand by 7am. The room and dinner cost me all of Rs 120. A Mahindra SUV is standing ready and the driver convinces me to travel with him instead of taking the bus. While waiting for other passengers to turn up, the driver is also trying to fix a problem - the brake fluid is leaking steadily from a broken pipe. The problem gets fixed eventually with Mseal and an old plastic packet - an example of the much derided Indian jugad - and we are on our way though without our full complement of passengers.

Travelling in daylight I get a better idea of the lay of the land. We head upstream along the left bank of the Rupin river, cross over an iron bridge and then head downstream along its right bank. We stop at a dhaba by the river where our driver decides to wait for a friend following in another vehicle.

Rupin river

At the dhaba I meet an injured trekker returning from a failed attempt on Rupin pass. He says he is a criminal lawyer practicing in Rohtak. He prefers to avoid large groups while trekking. He and his friend attempted Rupin pass carrying 16-17 kg each but he apparently slipped on ice and sprained his leg. His friend has gone ahead with a sheppard as guide leaving him behind. He seems quite shaken up by the ordeal he has been through. The dhaba owner has been very kind and looked after him for a day. He is now waiting for the bus to get to Rohru.

The banks of the Rupin down below the dhaba are busy. Several groups of trekkers all heading for Rupin pass pass by. There are the young and the old and many girls walking by and waving to us. It is a regular procession.

Resuming our journey we pick up a whole bunch of school girls heading for their school in Dodra. Here, the bus catches up with us and I exchange greetings with the bus conductor now on his return journey. I also meet a boy from Haryana who along with 3-4 others were the only tourists in the bus with me yesterday. They spent the night in Dodra and plan to trek in the area for a few days.

Sheep cooling themselves at Chanshal

For the rest of the ride we are just one step ahead of the bus. I request the driver to stop on top of the Chanshal pass. The view is of a vast and breathtaking panorama of the range guarding the Sangla valley stretching all the way to the peaks of the Yamunotri range. In the distance a little below us, a huge flock of sheep make a beeline for a large patch of snow and settle down on it. A shepherd standing nearby explains that the sheep can't bear the heat of summer. I learn that they are kept for the wool and meat and sold after 4-5 years for sums as much as Rs 15000 to 18000.

On the descent from Chanshal, the views are of the green Pabbar valley and the line of snow peaks separating it from the Sutluj valley. After Larot, the descent continues through a thick and beautiful forest of Devdar like trees. I get off right in front of the guest house in Sandasu late afternoon. The jugad on the brake fluid pipe has held through our perilous journey.

The lawn of the guest house at Sandasu

I spend the evening at the grocery shop across from the guest house. Lala owns an apple orchard above the village and this shop. His brother looks after the farming while he occupies himself with the shop. He has a son and daughter - both going to school. The son is in 1st year of PU in a nearby school. The daughter goes to the 8th std in an English medium school in Karnal where her aunt lives. She is smart, confident and personable and very keen to try out her English speaking skills on me. Lala talks of how difficult it is to maintain Apple orchards - the tree has to be nurtured for 15-16 years and guarded against numerous diseases. He strongly feels that education is the only way for his family to progress.

Several villagers gather and partake in the conversation at the Lala's as the evening progresses. Among them is 'maharaj', the portly cook and caretaker of the guest house whom I was searching for yesterday. My day ends with a nice meal cooked by Maharaj.

My fellow traveller

Banana plantations near Chengam

Women of Kuppanatham Village

Trekking over the Jalori Jot - Sept 2012

I will start with a little geography before I launch into my account. The Beas and Sutluj watersheds are separated by a range crossed by a motor able road at the 3300m high Jalori pass connecting Kulu with Shimla. The region on either side of the pass is known as the Seraj. Weaving through picturesque countryside and with sparse traffic, the roads in the Seraj are quite suitable for trekking. One can walk all the way from Banjar to Jalori and then on to Khanag and Aut utilizing short cuts where available and staying in village homes and this can be a pleasant trek. However, besides the roads, there are also numerous walking trails connecting the remote villages and these certainly make for more interesting treks. After spending a few days in the region I came to know of one such trail, relatively unknown to outsiders, that leads from the village of Gada Gussain to the Jalori pass and I decided to walk this trail.

Getting to Gada Gussain

The road to Gada Gussain branches off to the west from the main Banjar – Jalori road at Jibi village. I spent the night in a guest house at Ghyagi, just a half hour walk from Jibi so getting there in the morning was not a problem. At Jibi I found out that there are only two busses daily for Gada Gussain. With an hour left for the first bus, it made sense to continue walking and catch the bus when it passed by.

PWD guest house at Gada Gussain

Past the village of Bharti Dhar a few km from Jibi, the road climbs up in a series of switchbacks through a forest of Pine and Deodhar. Attempting short cuts, I stupidly missed noticing that the switchbacks had ended. Hopelessly lost, I eventually retraced my path to find that the bus had passed by; my only option was to keep walking. Late afternoon, while still an hour away from Gada Gussain, my luck turned. My walking companion, a local villager, flagged down a pickup truck and we jumped in. The short ride standing in the rear of the open truck will remain etched in memory. The truck hurtled over the rough gravel road at great speed, throwing us in random directions, getting us airborne repeatedly, testing arms and sockets to their limits. Was I happy to get out without injury!

Gada Gussain is located in a beautiful valley with a stream. The PWD guest house occupies the pride of place, set in the midst of a green carpeted field at one edge of the valley. One look and my heart was set on staying there. The chowkidar readily agreed to give me a room. He also helped me find a guide, Roshan Lal, a small farmer, who was willing to interrupt his current store painting job to accompany me to Jalori.

My plans for a quiet evening chatting up the chowkidar were spoilt with the arrival of two brothers, wholesale merchants from Mandi, who had come to procure vegetables. A call from their PWD engineer contact in Mandi had got them the best room at the guest house. (I escaped unceremonious eviction as there was luckily a second, less attractive, room.) They were well prepared for the evening and promptly commissioned the chowkidar to cook mutton procured locally. As the evening progressed, they become increasingly drunk and boisterous. However my attempts over several hours to get them to reveal the secrets of the wholesale vegetable trade proved futile. The dinner which they greatly enjoyed was a disaster as far as I was concerned - the mutton of the pahadi goat was too tough for my city bred jaws.

View from above Alwa village

Gada Gussain (2285m) to Jalori (3045m)

Roshan Lal arrived bright and early at 6 am. After a short walk to the edge of the field, we launched into a steep climb. Soon we were getting a bird’s eye view of Gada Gussain with its pretty grey slate roofed houses. An hour later, we walked through the village of Alwa past families already at work, preparing fodder for storage for the approaching winter. The striking view from the trail was now of row upon row of mountains each taller than the previous, the colors ranging from dark green of the coniferous trees in the foreground to the bleak white of  the jagged snow peaks in the background.  I could not identify the individual snow peaks, but the broad sweep ranged from Rohtang jot and other peaks of the Pir Panjal in the north to those of the Shrikhand Mahadev range in the east.

At 8.30 am, we stopped for breakfast at a clearing. We had climbed over 500m without a break, something I could do only because Roshan Lal lifted my backpack. Regaining my breath, I absorbed the landmarks on view - Madhupur Garh (fort), sitting on a ridge to the South-West and Ragupur Garh , visible as a speck on a practically treeless hill rising across a deep valley. Raghupur Garh lay on our route to Jalori. We would be able to get there without descending into the valley separating us along the line of sight, simply by staying on the ridge we were on which circled around to the fort.

Kunala thatch

 When we resumed, the climb became more gradual. Just above 3000m, we entered a beautiful forest of Kharsu (Oak). The going from here on was more or less level with gradual ascents and descents. After a half hour walk into the forest, we started getting glimpses of meadows – natural grasslands seasonally used for grazing, called bugyals in Uttarakhand and thatch locally. Emerging from the forest, we passed a beautiful meadow in a depression below us surrounded on all sides by Oak, the Kunala thatch. It was an idyllic setting to camp or just spend a day but we had to be content with clicking a few pictures.

Further on, at a place called Sukhsar, we stopped at the edge of a long rectangular field with standing water and sporting a paddy like grass. Roshan Lal identified it as the ‘Pandavo ka khet’ and proceeded to tell me the local legend associated with it. 

Pandavo ka khet

The pandavas during their vanvas camped here one night and planted the rice. Before they were quite done, people at a nearby village woke up to the sound of barking dogs and the pandavas had to leave in a hurry. It was the magic of the pandavas presence that could make paddy grow at these heights, but the paddy will never yield rice because of their abrupt departure.

We were now not far from the fort; one could get a glimpse of it on the hill top right behind the khet. But it still entailed a climb of 200m. The top of the hill was a giant meadow bereft of any trees. Normally, it would be an easy walk up the 45 degree slope. But after walking for nearly 6 hours and climbing over 700m, my legs were ready to buckle under. Half way up, the slope was broken by a depression hosting a lovely little pond, its waters reflecting hill and cloud. A couple of young boys, barely in their teens, were keeping an eye on their cows grazing below – the first humans we saw after leaving Alwa. We reached the fort – consisting of the ruins of a boundary wall of stones and a small temple, not counting an ugly pilgrim shelter of recent date – just after noon. At 3200m, this was the highest point in the trek to Jalori.

Approaching Ragupur Garh

 It was indeed a great location for a fort, commanding its approaches from all directions. I stopped to absorb the grand panorama, the green carpeted mountains playing with the clouds and the road snaking up from Shoja far below past the structures at Jalori pass. The descent to Jalori took us just 45 minutes and we were there before 2pm.

Over lunch, the thanedar at Jalori evinced keen interest in my trek thus far and volunteered advice on how to go about the rest of it. I learnt that I could stay at a tented camp at Jalori and then find someone to guide me to Khanag and beyond. For reasons that I cringe to disclose – actually the anticipation of a tasty home cooked meal at the Ghyagi guesthouse – I ignored his advice and took a lift with the Kulu SP (again arranged by the helpful thanedar) back to Ghyagi, and returned to Jalori by bus the next morning, loosing valuable time.

View from the fort

Jalori to Khanag via Saryolsar

My first target this morning was Saryolsar Lake and I got off to a brisk start with a backpacker couple from Israel. The level trail lead in the opposite direction to Raghupur Garh and we shortly passed the tented camp mentioned by the thanedar. A pleasant couple of hours walk through the woods got us to lake.  

It was a small lake in very beautiful surroundings but with excessive human intervention around it for my liking. The lake was fenced all around and a concrete walkway paralleled the fence. A pretty little temple stood at a height to one side. The walkway was stained with oil and the strong smell of ghee was ever present. It was only later that I found out that the temple and lake were dedicated to Budhi Naagin, the local goddess of ghee! A practice associated with worship here was walking around the lake pouring ghee in an unbroken line.

Saryolsar Lake

 Drinking chai at a dhaba above the temple, I met my guides for the next stretch – a young local couple who had come to pray at the temple. Khanag was just a small detour for them and graciously agreed to the extra walk to help me out. The walk down was for the first part through forest and then entered cultivated areas. During the descent, a vast panorama opened before us with hills and valleys and far flung settlements seen from high up. We negotiated many trails going off in different directions – I would have certainly been lost without my guides. An hour and a half later, we reached Khanag and said our goodbyes.                       

My trek ended at Khanag rather abruptly. Khanag has a well located and comfortably furnished PWD guest house – the only place with a toilet facility - and that was where I was headed, confident of getting a room. As luck would have it, a landslide blocking the road to the south of Jalori had brought a PWD repair team to the area. The engineer who was present at the guesthouse flatly refused to entertain my request, though I was convinced from the caretaker’s demeanor that rooms were available. A bus to Ani followed by another to Sainj allowed me to spend the night in a decent budget hotel looking out on the Sutluj.

Where the Yamuna is young

( The title is a take on the great travel adventure "Where the Indus in Young" by Deverla Murphy)

This travel piece appeared in the EPW with a few (crucial) lines dropped.

Kamal Valley

The bus leaves Purola carrying daily commuters, and makes its way up the valley of the Kamal at a measured pace hugging the curves of the smooth road. I look out on a remarkably wide valley dotted with neat habitations amidst green fields of wheat and jawar. Seated next to me, a soft spoken pahadi patiently answers my questions. The driver plays a melodious Garhwali song and I can picture a slow rhythmic harvest dance. 

My phone rings and it is Rana inquiring. I feel welcome in the hills.

I got acquainted with Rana in Dehradun yesterday after we both missed the last bus to Purola. Rana was as desperate as me to avoid spending the night in the city, so I decided to tag along, trusting him, a local, to get me out. After a fruitless afternoon scouring shared taxi stands we finally got lucky. Rana recognized the driver of a charter bus speeding past us in Vikas Nagar and managed to get it to stop. The bus was headed straight for Purola!

Saur Village just off Sankri

 On a wet evening the large vehicle hurtled along a treacherous road at great speed following the Yamuna upstream. At a dinner stop, after having his glass of the local brew, Rana became positively friendly. Back on the bus, he called up and made arrangements for my night stay in Purola and instructed the driver on where I should be dropped. Before I could protest, he had paid my fare and hopped off the bus at a fork before Purola.

That was last night. Rana called again just now to check if I made the morning bus to Sankri!

Sankri is the start of a trail to a valley in north Uttarakhand with the enticing name Har ki doon. My plan is to walk this trail for the next few days, halting the nights at wayside Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam (GMVN) guest houses.

My trek begins earlier than anticipated because of a landslide a few km short of Sankri. Just beyond Sankri, I meet two men – caretakers at GMVN guest houses, it turns out - headed in the opposite direction to collect their salaries after a delay of 6 months! I part with an assurance that their absence will not cause a problem for me. I reach the guest house at Taluka village cold and wet after walking barefoot through several icy streams and braving rain and hail.

The next day, the trail follows the Har ki doon Gad (stream), passing below villages located precariously on the hill slopes. Terraced fields of wheat and mustard extend to impossible slopes and dizzy heights, adding dashes of brilliant yellow and green to the drab brown and grey.

Turning a blind corner on a ledge above the river, we get our first dramatic view of the village of Osla perched high up on the other side.  Below the village, the mountain drops steeply into the river; above it, it presents a sheer rock face. Why are the villages located at inaccessible heights rather than near the river bank, I ask Kamal, a young man from Taluka who is accompanying me? His intriguing answer is that in the past, this helped the villagers to secure themselves against raids by local kings!

Soon we reach the settlement of Seema, across the river from Osla. Jainder Singh’s dhabha opposite the guest house looks the livelier place and I make myself comfortable by his chullah. Villagers stop by for warmth and conversation and the evening passes amiably in the company of simple people. The dinner tastes especially good after I have been witness to the labor that has gone into its preparation.

Forest rest house, Har ki doon

A hard third day’s trek, the last part crunching snow, brings us within view of the colorful forest rest house in Har ki doon. Sticking out of the snow in the shadow of a gigantic boulder set against a steep mountain face, it has a fairy tale look. There is still an hour’s plodding now through knee deep snow before we reach the GMVN guest house. Pavani, the canteen contractor at Har ki doon has himself just gotten there and is trying to get a fire going. It starts snowing and turns bitterly cold. For the rest of the evening, I am obsessed with trying to keep warm.

By the next morning, there is an amazing turnaround outside. I look out on a clear blue sky and the sharp outline of Swargarohini stretching nearly 3 km above us. Like in most parts of the Himalayas, there is a Mahabharata association here too. Swargarohini, in local legend, is the ‘stairway to heaven’ climbed by Yudhishtar, the eldest of the Pandavas.

A forest of pine borders either side of a gentle meandering stream. The grassy mountain slopes on closer look reveal the brown giving way to green. Numerous flowers - yellow Dandelion, Marsh Marigold, and blue Gentian - have sprung up in anticipation of spring. Pavani informs me that but for the abnormal wintry conditions, it would have been impossible to sleep this late in the morning because of the chatter of birds with as he puts it, their "108 boli" (108 tongues).

Good weather and a descending trail make the return walk a relaxed affair. Near Osla, women in colorful attire are readying the fields for the next crop of phafra, a local grain. At the satellite phone center curious little children, dressed in layers of grey-brown and wearing pretty headscarves gather around us.

Osla hugs a steep hill slope and has streets at several levels. The houses are multi-storied and follow a pattern. The ground floor is used for cattle and sheep and above it is the family residence with an overhanging balcony. Right on top are the lofts for storing wood. Kamal points to separately housed silos that stock family grain and other rations to last the harsh winter.

We stop at the village temple, a stark reminder of how far local beliefs can differ from the dominant ones. The temple is dedicated to Duryodhana! The deity is shared with several other temples in this region, moving between them according to a customary schedule, I learn.

 The return walk to Taluka along the Har ki doon Gad is memorable. We walk past the beautiful fields of green and yellow. It is early morning and birds abound. Drongos sit companionably in the trees. Dippers squat on the rocks midstream. Redstarts perform acrobatics, showing off their brilliant colors. A majestic Lammergeir glides low over the water. Blue sky, warm sun, the sparkling river and birds of so many hues, nature invites to come again.

On crosswords

A good piece of writing on crosswords by S V Venugopalan

the-craft-behind-crossing-swords-with-crosswords