Monday, July 18, 2011
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
PAINTINGS !
Approaching Roopkund Lake
Looking North from Kuari Pass
Paintings by Satyambabu Kalyani
Friend of Mohan who did Roopkund Kuari Pass trek in June 2009
STOK KANGRI – SCALING MOUNTAINS OF THE MIND
It had not been the first time on this trek that I lent a hand with pitching tents. However, it was the first time that my head had reeled like never before. It was late morning. We had reached the “high camp” – a rocky campsite at 5,200 metres (over 17,000 feet) above sea level. We would make our bid for summiting Stok Kangri, a trekkable peak in Ladakh that stacks up 6,152 metres (about 20,300 feet) above sea level.
The mules and horses had arrived from the base camp (4,900 metres (16,170 feet) above sea level), shed their load onto the rocks, and were ready to trudge back down. Neighing, braying and farting, their bells sounded louder against the quiet nagging headache. The strong sun, although flirting with the clouds, reflected a white glare off the glacier next to the campsite. Grey clouds loomed at a distance, slowly teasing us out of visibility over the peaks in the horizon. The signal was clear – the weather gods may not play ball. However, mountain weather is fickle. After midnight, we would have to initiate the summit attempt regardless, giving up the summit only if we were to be left with no other option.
There had never been any obligation to help with the tents, more so at such high altitude. It was my bravado rather than camping etiquette that had driven me. I had wanted to validate my prowess at altitude. However, straightening a few foldable tent rods was as far as I could go. Self-doubt mounted with every pound of the subtle pain at the tip of the neck’s stem even as I sat back and watched the support staff work.
In no time just enough earth amidst rocks had been levelled, the tents had been spread, pitched and pegs hammered to hold them down. Meanwhile, one of the cooks had done three sorties to a distant stream, fetching water for our camp. Their consummate ease enhanced the feeling of self-doubt and inadequacy.
The past four days had been a dream run. I was among the few who were not on Diamox, the blood-diluting drug that mountaineers use to pre-empt mountain sickness. I had had no symptoms of either a loose tummy or plantar fasciitis (an inflammation of the sole), each ailment having cost me weeks of preparation for this trek.
We had hiked up here from the Stok Kangri base camp at 4,975 metres (about 16,420 feet). It had been a short trek to the base camp from Mounkarmo (4,250 metres, about 14,000 feet above sea level), our previous camp stop. The climb to the base camp had been rather quickly accomplished but many had displayed symptoms of greater altitude-induced fatigue after reaching the base camp. The weather gods had been friendly when at the base camp. Clear skies had held out hope of a fantastic summit view to follow. However, at the base camp, an acclimatization climb in the afternoon (where one climbs even higher to come back to sleep at the lower altitude) led to most of the teammates getting unsure of their prospects.
Avilash, our guide, had decided to drop anchor at the base camp and spend an extra day there making use of the spare summit day built into our time budget. Aussie Catherine had seemed to have sorted out the diarrhea she had contracted en route to the base camp, but added rest was most welcome. Indian-origin Yank Nisha had resolved to feel cold – despite the multiple layers she wore to bed, husband Patrick, who had trotted up to the base camp with no visible discomfort woke up with a scare when she started whimpering. She would eventually sleep with two sleeping bags over her. Sanjeev and Manmeet, who had carried their entire baggage themselves, started showing their first credible signs of fatigue at the base camp. Gopika and Suman had pulled along slowly and steadily but looked like they welcomed the rest day.
We had commenced our trek after a drive from Leh to Zingchen, under scorching sun on high desert but were soon onto a green trail along a strong stream. Mid-course to Rumbak (3,870 metres (12,770 feet) above sea level), where we would camp for the night, we learnt that our mules had not yet arrived in Zingchen. Reaching Rumbak without our baggage and camping equipment would be useless. We settled into a siesta on a meadow by the shade, and went on unscheduled side treks through Himalayan country, getting more acclimatized. We received news of the mules just in time before sunset and we made our way up to Rumbak, traipsing villages with home stays and stepping for herds of pashmina goats. A four-hour scheduled day had extended into a seven-hour day, but we were at an emotional peace with Himalayan terrain by the time we pitched up at Rumbak. Our first ‘Big Day’ (the very second day of the trek) lay ahead.
The team set out early. While we were to camp that night at a campsite in Mounkarmo en route, our trek involved a long and hard “mini summit climb” up Stok La, a high mountain pass at 4,890 metres (about 16,140 feet) above sea level. “If you do this one well, you would be mentally confident of the main summit,” Avilashhad said , also implying that we take this day as seriously as a summit climb.
Breathtaking Himalayan charm unfolded all around us as we trudged up Stok La. The cheese had moved. The steep trek up Stok La took the wind out of some in the group. Amazing vistas of the Himalayan Stok Range kept the mind green while the body toiled. Behind us, Rumbak and its surroundings slowly moved from life-size to miniatures and then to mere specks beneath our feet. Up ahead, all we could see was the steep trail that would eventually lead to Stok La. As we neared the boulders at the top of the trail, out of nowhere, it started snowing, first with just light flakes barely making it to the ground, and soon in torrents, blurring visibility. Huddled against the naturally-formed weather-worn mountain wall, we ate our packed lunch and gradually began our descent to Mounkarmo. Snow eventually gave way to sunshine, and sunshine gave way to rain, and rain gave way to hail. When we reached the wet campsite, about ten hours after we had started that morning, I did not know of any single team member who was not relieved that trekking for the day was over. The sun came out only so briefly as to let us pitch the tents, with the skies opening up soon after we got into the tents.
“For me, it is the journey that matters, not the destination,” I had assured my mother from Leh, hating myself for having written: “If I find that I cannot make it, I will be true to myself and turn back.” At high camp, that e-mail flashed before my mind ominously. One of us had dropped out at the base camp after the extra day of rest. However, a look around the campsite held out an uncanny reassurance. Collective hardship builds hope and mitigates individual misery. Every single trekker looked knackered, regardless of the extra day at the base camp.
Before the trek, I had read parts of Mountains of the Mind, a book by Robert Macfarlane, a nephew of Donald Peck, my friend and mountaineering philosopher, and sections of the book came to mind. Dozens of cups of hot water and loads of salty soup later, we did not feel that weak after all. The mountains of the mind had dissolved giving way to belief that we could attempt the summit after all. Besides, this year’s trek had an added inspiration – I had sought pledges of financial support for Akanksha, a child education NGO. I had to do be really convinced that I could not trek further before giving up.
We broke into two groups later that night, with the slower one, to which I belonged starting earlier. We crossed the glacier and crisscrossed our path up to the mountain’s ridge, gathered the two groups at the ridge and then continued in hierarchy of then available strength. It took us six hours since the start at the high camp for us to summit. The weather gods indeed did not oblige. A steady snowfall kept at us through the night as we took the ascent step by careful step, focusing our headlamps on just the immediate path ahead. What the eye does not see, the mind does not fear. Even as the day broke, we were atop Stok Kangri. Clouds barred our view from the top in all directions. But for a slight parting of the cloud curtain as we assembled ¬to start our descent, this summit did not give us the views people are willing to die for. However, it did not matter. Every single trekker from the high camp made it to the top. Not only had the journey been completed, the destination too had been reached.
By Somasekhar Sundaresan
Climber Stok Kangri Aug 23-Sep 01, 2009
The mules and horses had arrived from the base camp (4,900 metres (16,170 feet) above sea level), shed their load onto the rocks, and were ready to trudge back down. Neighing, braying and farting, their bells sounded louder against the quiet nagging headache. The strong sun, although flirting with the clouds, reflected a white glare off the glacier next to the campsite. Grey clouds loomed at a distance, slowly teasing us out of visibility over the peaks in the horizon. The signal was clear – the weather gods may not play ball. However, mountain weather is fickle. After midnight, we would have to initiate the summit attempt regardless, giving up the summit only if we were to be left with no other option.
There had never been any obligation to help with the tents, more so at such high altitude. It was my bravado rather than camping etiquette that had driven me. I had wanted to validate my prowess at altitude. However, straightening a few foldable tent rods was as far as I could go. Self-doubt mounted with every pound of the subtle pain at the tip of the neck’s stem even as I sat back and watched the support staff work.
In no time just enough earth amidst rocks had been levelled, the tents had been spread, pitched and pegs hammered to hold them down. Meanwhile, one of the cooks had done three sorties to a distant stream, fetching water for our camp. Their consummate ease enhanced the feeling of self-doubt and inadequacy.
The past four days had been a dream run. I was among the few who were not on Diamox, the blood-diluting drug that mountaineers use to pre-empt mountain sickness. I had had no symptoms of either a loose tummy or plantar fasciitis (an inflammation of the sole), each ailment having cost me weeks of preparation for this trek.
We had hiked up here from the Stok Kangri base camp at 4,975 metres (about 16,420 feet). It had been a short trek to the base camp from Mounkarmo (4,250 metres, about 14,000 feet above sea level), our previous camp stop. The climb to the base camp had been rather quickly accomplished but many had displayed symptoms of greater altitude-induced fatigue after reaching the base camp. The weather gods had been friendly when at the base camp. Clear skies had held out hope of a fantastic summit view to follow. However, at the base camp, an acclimatization climb in the afternoon (where one climbs even higher to come back to sleep at the lower altitude) led to most of the teammates getting unsure of their prospects.
Avilash, our guide, had decided to drop anchor at the base camp and spend an extra day there making use of the spare summit day built into our time budget. Aussie Catherine had seemed to have sorted out the diarrhea she had contracted en route to the base camp, but added rest was most welcome. Indian-origin Yank Nisha had resolved to feel cold – despite the multiple layers she wore to bed, husband Patrick, who had trotted up to the base camp with no visible discomfort woke up with a scare when she started whimpering. She would eventually sleep with two sleeping bags over her. Sanjeev and Manmeet, who had carried their entire baggage themselves, started showing their first credible signs of fatigue at the base camp. Gopika and Suman had pulled along slowly and steadily but looked like they welcomed the rest day.
We had commenced our trek after a drive from Leh to Zingchen, under scorching sun on high desert but were soon onto a green trail along a strong stream. Mid-course to Rumbak (3,870 metres (12,770 feet) above sea level), where we would camp for the night, we learnt that our mules had not yet arrived in Zingchen. Reaching Rumbak without our baggage and camping equipment would be useless. We settled into a siesta on a meadow by the shade, and went on unscheduled side treks through Himalayan country, getting more acclimatized. We received news of the mules just in time before sunset and we made our way up to Rumbak, traipsing villages with home stays and stepping for herds of pashmina goats. A four-hour scheduled day had extended into a seven-hour day, but we were at an emotional peace with Himalayan terrain by the time we pitched up at Rumbak. Our first ‘Big Day’ (the very second day of the trek) lay ahead.
The team set out early. While we were to camp that night at a campsite in Mounkarmo en route, our trek involved a long and hard “mini summit climb” up Stok La, a high mountain pass at 4,890 metres (about 16,140 feet) above sea level. “If you do this one well, you would be mentally confident of the main summit,” Avilashhad said , also implying that we take this day as seriously as a summit climb.
Breathtaking Himalayan charm unfolded all around us as we trudged up Stok La. The cheese had moved. The steep trek up Stok La took the wind out of some in the group. Amazing vistas of the Himalayan Stok Range kept the mind green while the body toiled. Behind us, Rumbak and its surroundings slowly moved from life-size to miniatures and then to mere specks beneath our feet. Up ahead, all we could see was the steep trail that would eventually lead to Stok La. As we neared the boulders at the top of the trail, out of nowhere, it started snowing, first with just light flakes barely making it to the ground, and soon in torrents, blurring visibility. Huddled against the naturally-formed weather-worn mountain wall, we ate our packed lunch and gradually began our descent to Mounkarmo. Snow eventually gave way to sunshine, and sunshine gave way to rain, and rain gave way to hail. When we reached the wet campsite, about ten hours after we had started that morning, I did not know of any single team member who was not relieved that trekking for the day was over. The sun came out only so briefly as to let us pitch the tents, with the skies opening up soon after we got into the tents.
“For me, it is the journey that matters, not the destination,” I had assured my mother from Leh, hating myself for having written: “If I find that I cannot make it, I will be true to myself and turn back.” At high camp, that e-mail flashed before my mind ominously. One of us had dropped out at the base camp after the extra day of rest. However, a look around the campsite held out an uncanny reassurance. Collective hardship builds hope and mitigates individual misery. Every single trekker looked knackered, regardless of the extra day at the base camp.
Before the trek, I had read parts of Mountains of the Mind, a book by Robert Macfarlane, a nephew of Donald Peck, my friend and mountaineering philosopher, and sections of the book came to mind. Dozens of cups of hot water and loads of salty soup later, we did not feel that weak after all. The mountains of the mind had dissolved giving way to belief that we could attempt the summit after all. Besides, this year’s trek had an added inspiration – I had sought pledges of financial support for Akanksha, a child education NGO. I had to do be really convinced that I could not trek further before giving up.
We broke into two groups later that night, with the slower one, to which I belonged starting earlier. We crossed the glacier and crisscrossed our path up to the mountain’s ridge, gathered the two groups at the ridge and then continued in hierarchy of then available strength. It took us six hours since the start at the high camp for us to summit. The weather gods indeed did not oblige. A steady snowfall kept at us through the night as we took the ascent step by careful step, focusing our headlamps on just the immediate path ahead. What the eye does not see, the mind does not fear. Even as the day broke, we were atop Stok Kangri. Clouds barred our view from the top in all directions. But for a slight parting of the cloud curtain as we assembled ¬to start our descent, this summit did not give us the views people are willing to die for. However, it did not matter. Every single trekker from the high camp made it to the top. Not only had the journey been completed, the destination too had been reached.
By Somasekhar Sundaresan
Climber Stok Kangri Aug 23-Sep 01, 2009
An off-beat vacation!
At 7:30 am on 17 Aug we stood on top of Stok Kangri, the imposing peak tallest on the horizon of Leh! It had provokingly challenged us all through the previous week, giving us brief teasing glimpses of its majestic aura through its veil of clouds. For the brief while on its 6123m tall summit, amidst a colorful flurry of prayer flags, we beheld a view reserved for the Gods – the breath-taking panorama of Zanskar, Ladhak and Karakoram ranges with giants like Nun, Kun, and K2.
View of Ladhak Range and Karakorams from the Summit
Our mixed bunch of six had got together, joined by a shared dream, under a fruit-laden apricot tree in Kang Lha Chen hotel in Leh on 11th. The reddish blush on the ripening apricots was very similar to the natural rouge on the cheeks of the Ladhaki kids playing on the street, who welcomed wanderers like us with a boisterous ‘Ju-leh’. We broke ice over steaming chai, and started getting to know each other - slowly letting our cultural guards melt like the sugar-cubes in the chai. The others in the gang besides me were a criminal prosecutor from Delhi, a Japanese finance-geek from California, an under-grad from Michigan, a travel journalist from Delhi, and a risk consultant from Mumbai.
While there was considerable outdoor experience and passion pooled between the six of us, we had to overcome the handicap of the city-bound nature of our vocations and the dulling of the edge in endless hours of cubicle-slaving. Pankaj and his team of Chain, Ravinder and Rikzin from Aquaterra helped us do that. They were the giants on whose shoulders we would climb. They and others who had climbed this and other daunting abodes before us! Their pioneering efforts had brought these awesome peaks within our reach. While the confidence they gave us was immeasurable, the joy of their easy and happy banter, the infectiousness of their smiles, their awesome cooking, and their hardy friendship was what made all our shared moments truly memorable.
Our first day, marked for acclimatization, was spent exploring the quaint streets of Leh – this amazing defiantly-green oasis, surrounded by a barren cold mountainous desert which is almost like moon-scape. In one of the eateries, some of us tried the payoo-chha, or salted butter tea, and agreed with a grimace that it would probably be more agreeable if they called it soup. On our way to the equipment shop for our crampons, ice-axes and other gear, we noticed an antiques shop, named quite candidly “Useless Wali’s Antiques”. At the equipment shop, besides the mountain gear “Oracle sessions” were also advertized (not related to Larry Elison’s popular database as we first thought, but to the mystical séances which are more in sync with the traditional Snake-Charmers’ Land image of India).
Stok Kangri – tallest on Leh’s horizon
The following day we drove up to Khardung La, which at 5602m is the highest motorable pass in the world. In a light snowfall, we climbed one of the shoulders, urgently breathing in the sparse, but incredibly crisp and clear air – nourishment for our souls! In a tea-shop on the pass, almost indiscernible in heavy woolens, I met an old friend from college (It’s truly a small world!). She had come here with a group of ornithologists from Mumbai – in this weather the only bird-watching that this group could do was of the human-kind clad in down feather jackets. Since most of these ‘birds’ were sipping tea in this shack, this was the best vantage spot to be in!
Our approach trek began along the Indus the next day. It was humbling to be in the company of the river that gives us and our nation its identity. We trekked up and down imposing crests; through saddles, which have been the Polaris to grazers and traders for centuries; across raging streams, which sound deceptively melodious from a distance, while hiding their wrath that can tear down rocks; through quaint villages like Rombuk; by the side of chortens, prayer-flags, and artistic rock-inscriptions, each of which joined in chorus of “Om Mane Padme Om” and blessed us as we went along.
We finally saw birds – rock pigeons, blue magpies, and the Lammergeir, a bearded vulture-eagle which eats the marrow out of bones by dropping them from great heights onto rocks to splinter them. Standing on a high ledge, we beheld this awesome bird gliding with its 2m wing-span over eddies below where we stood. We also saw large hare-size marmots rushing into their burrows, perhaps seeking solace from the sharp predatory gaze of the lammergeir. There was a large herd of bharals, blue sheep, the biggest amongst them standing in a Simba-like posture over a large rock gazing down on the valley. The yaks and dzos grazing on the steep slopes seemed as if they were pinned onto them – there was no other way to comprehend their sure-footed gravity-defying posture.
Khardungla – world’s highest motorable pass
Three days of arduous trekking brought us to the Base Camp at 4975m. A multitude of tents of all colours and shapes adorned this small flat space by a stream. The jingle of the neck-bells of the mules welcomed one into the camp. Here we had a confluence of climbers from all over – Germans, Israelis, Brits, Americans, a few French (who clad themselves as the Musketeers after the submitted a day later), Dutch (a long way up from their low-lying country),…. Our group was the only one that had Indians – still a rarity in the adventure community! The love of nature and climbing was the common spiritual thread that tied this multitude into one. Uninhibited smiles, words of encouragement, inspirational greetings (Ki Ki So So Larghyalo – The Gods will be victorious!), shared dried apricots and chocolates (and Tibetan medicines), … the hearts open up here, resonating with the expanse of the terrain and the purity of the air!
This unprecedented precipitation this season had dampened the attempts of many expeditions – some of them had turned back even earlier than the base camp faced with flooded streams due to a lake being breached higher up. It has been snowing on the Stok range all of the previous fortnight. So, when we woke up at half past midnight on the summit night to a clear sky with a traffic jam of stars, we were filled with the optimism of the blessed. There was the bright afterglow of the full moon as it sank below the Stok range on the west. Being out of civilization we had lost track of time. Seeing the moon in its full splendor we realized that this was the Rakshabandhan night – a blessed day! Faced with daunting odds, even the most agnostic amongst us starts counting the blessings – they mould the will into a shield against the odds and give us the courage to take the leap….
With miners’ lamps on our heads the first obstacle was a long traverse of the glacier. An easy walk from the gradient perspective, but the benign façade hid yawning bottomless crevasses where temp fell below minus 60 degrees. None of us fancied risking a plunge into that apocalyptic void – so we were very slow and cautious. The caution “Don’t be a Gama in the Land of the Lamas” rang clear in our minds.
Across the glacier a long, steep and exhausting climb began to the ridgeline. The scree and the loose rocks added to the risk and the effort. Many a times the step forward would slip back to almost where it began. Fighting off the severe wind-chill, gulping in the sparse air, our only focus was the next step. One step at a time – that’s what existence reduces to. It’s like a meditative trance!
Sometime after 4 am, the eastern horizon over Ladakh range lit up with alpenglow – a spectacular dawn, slowly vanquishing the demons of the night. It was mesmeric and it breathed fresh life into us. Rejuvenated, we made the final assault on the sharp wall of the re-entrant to reach the knife-edge ridge at 5:30 am. One of us breathlessly hummed the Carpenter song “I am on the top of the world….”, aptly capturing the emotion felt.
It was now when we were so close, that the unpredictability of the mountain started asserting itself. Coco, the Japanese who was on her second attempt to this peak and had been one of the strongest climbers amongst us, developed deep hypoxia and disorientation. She was given bottled oxygen and when she stabilized she was evacuated down from a point just 100m shy of the summit. Pankaj, Amit and Chain affected a very professional and timely rescue, but for which we dread to imagine how things could have turned out. Coco’s maturity and courage was remarkable – it must have been very disheartening to be denied the second time and that too from so close…
Two other climbers who were exhausted and suffering acute symptoms of altitude sickness including nausea also had to turn back close to the ridge after a very brave climb.
Three of us continued towards the distant player flags fluttering on the summit. The climb was literally on all fours on a rocky ridge, where a trip over the shoe-lace would have launched us on a long free-fall of thousands of feet on either side. The lethal verglas (thin sheen of ice formed by frozen melt-water on the rock-holds) was not very helpful either. After wheezing, puffing and panting for short spurts of climbing we took increasingly longer breaks. These pauses enabled us to reflect on our unhealthy living and each one of us made several resolutions, which we knew at a subconscious level we will break soon after resuming our normal lives.
Finally there was no further to climb! We collapsed on our knees and prayed our silent thanks in our own private emotional way! Why were we here? I don’t have an answer. To many, this pursuit may seem irrationally eccentric. It is difficult to comprehend what it means without experiencing it. I believe Walt Whitman caught the emotion right on: “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” In a metaphoric sense for these brief intense moments in our lives we were emulating the Lammergeir – its enviable freedom and its grace (not to forget the “sucking of the marrow”).
Stok Kangri from Advanced Base Camp
The climb down was brutal and far more dangerous. Suffering from bruised blue toes and trembling knees we finally arrived at the Base Camp at 1530h, 15 hours since we had set off. It took us two more days to reach Stok village – the first outpost of civilization on our path. The first site that welcomed us was a Mobile Tower standing proudly over the lush greenery of the village. I recalled a scene in the old 1968 classic, “Planet of the Apes”, where the symbol of civilization and its fate for the returned astronaut (Charlton Heston) is the Statue of Liberty. A more universal and contemporary symbol today would be none other than the Mobile Tower. Each one of us quickly put on our mobiles and called home to connect with our loved ones …..
By Aman Nugyal
Climber Stok Kangri Aug 11-20, 2008
View of Ladhak Range and Karakorams from the Summit
Our mixed bunch of six had got together, joined by a shared dream, under a fruit-laden apricot tree in Kang Lha Chen hotel in Leh on 11th. The reddish blush on the ripening apricots was very similar to the natural rouge on the cheeks of the Ladhaki kids playing on the street, who welcomed wanderers like us with a boisterous ‘Ju-leh’. We broke ice over steaming chai, and started getting to know each other - slowly letting our cultural guards melt like the sugar-cubes in the chai. The others in the gang besides me were a criminal prosecutor from Delhi, a Japanese finance-geek from California, an under-grad from Michigan, a travel journalist from Delhi, and a risk consultant from Mumbai.
While there was considerable outdoor experience and passion pooled between the six of us, we had to overcome the handicap of the city-bound nature of our vocations and the dulling of the edge in endless hours of cubicle-slaving. Pankaj and his team of Chain, Ravinder and Rikzin from Aquaterra helped us do that. They were the giants on whose shoulders we would climb. They and others who had climbed this and other daunting abodes before us! Their pioneering efforts had brought these awesome peaks within our reach. While the confidence they gave us was immeasurable, the joy of their easy and happy banter, the infectiousness of their smiles, their awesome cooking, and their hardy friendship was what made all our shared moments truly memorable.
Our first day, marked for acclimatization, was spent exploring the quaint streets of Leh – this amazing defiantly-green oasis, surrounded by a barren cold mountainous desert which is almost like moon-scape. In one of the eateries, some of us tried the payoo-chha, or salted butter tea, and agreed with a grimace that it would probably be more agreeable if they called it soup. On our way to the equipment shop for our crampons, ice-axes and other gear, we noticed an antiques shop, named quite candidly “Useless Wali’s Antiques”. At the equipment shop, besides the mountain gear “Oracle sessions” were also advertized (not related to Larry Elison’s popular database as we first thought, but to the mystical séances which are more in sync with the traditional Snake-Charmers’ Land image of India).
Stok Kangri – tallest on Leh’s horizon
The following day we drove up to Khardung La, which at 5602m is the highest motorable pass in the world. In a light snowfall, we climbed one of the shoulders, urgently breathing in the sparse, but incredibly crisp and clear air – nourishment for our souls! In a tea-shop on the pass, almost indiscernible in heavy woolens, I met an old friend from college (It’s truly a small world!). She had come here with a group of ornithologists from Mumbai – in this weather the only bird-watching that this group could do was of the human-kind clad in down feather jackets. Since most of these ‘birds’ were sipping tea in this shack, this was the best vantage spot to be in!
Our approach trek began along the Indus the next day. It was humbling to be in the company of the river that gives us and our nation its identity. We trekked up and down imposing crests; through saddles, which have been the Polaris to grazers and traders for centuries; across raging streams, which sound deceptively melodious from a distance, while hiding their wrath that can tear down rocks; through quaint villages like Rombuk; by the side of chortens, prayer-flags, and artistic rock-inscriptions, each of which joined in chorus of “Om Mane Padme Om” and blessed us as we went along.
We finally saw birds – rock pigeons, blue magpies, and the Lammergeir, a bearded vulture-eagle which eats the marrow out of bones by dropping them from great heights onto rocks to splinter them. Standing on a high ledge, we beheld this awesome bird gliding with its 2m wing-span over eddies below where we stood. We also saw large hare-size marmots rushing into their burrows, perhaps seeking solace from the sharp predatory gaze of the lammergeir. There was a large herd of bharals, blue sheep, the biggest amongst them standing in a Simba-like posture over a large rock gazing down on the valley. The yaks and dzos grazing on the steep slopes seemed as if they were pinned onto them – there was no other way to comprehend their sure-footed gravity-defying posture.
Khardungla – world’s highest motorable pass
Three days of arduous trekking brought us to the Base Camp at 4975m. A multitude of tents of all colours and shapes adorned this small flat space by a stream. The jingle of the neck-bells of the mules welcomed one into the camp. Here we had a confluence of climbers from all over – Germans, Israelis, Brits, Americans, a few French (who clad themselves as the Musketeers after the submitted a day later), Dutch (a long way up from their low-lying country),…. Our group was the only one that had Indians – still a rarity in the adventure community! The love of nature and climbing was the common spiritual thread that tied this multitude into one. Uninhibited smiles, words of encouragement, inspirational greetings (Ki Ki So So Larghyalo – The Gods will be victorious!), shared dried apricots and chocolates (and Tibetan medicines), … the hearts open up here, resonating with the expanse of the terrain and the purity of the air!
This unprecedented precipitation this season had dampened the attempts of many expeditions – some of them had turned back even earlier than the base camp faced with flooded streams due to a lake being breached higher up. It has been snowing on the Stok range all of the previous fortnight. So, when we woke up at half past midnight on the summit night to a clear sky with a traffic jam of stars, we were filled with the optimism of the blessed. There was the bright afterglow of the full moon as it sank below the Stok range on the west. Being out of civilization we had lost track of time. Seeing the moon in its full splendor we realized that this was the Rakshabandhan night – a blessed day! Faced with daunting odds, even the most agnostic amongst us starts counting the blessings – they mould the will into a shield against the odds and give us the courage to take the leap….
With miners’ lamps on our heads the first obstacle was a long traverse of the glacier. An easy walk from the gradient perspective, but the benign façade hid yawning bottomless crevasses where temp fell below minus 60 degrees. None of us fancied risking a plunge into that apocalyptic void – so we were very slow and cautious. The caution “Don’t be a Gama in the Land of the Lamas” rang clear in our minds.
Across the glacier a long, steep and exhausting climb began to the ridgeline. The scree and the loose rocks added to the risk and the effort. Many a times the step forward would slip back to almost where it began. Fighting off the severe wind-chill, gulping in the sparse air, our only focus was the next step. One step at a time – that’s what existence reduces to. It’s like a meditative trance!
Sometime after 4 am, the eastern horizon over Ladakh range lit up with alpenglow – a spectacular dawn, slowly vanquishing the demons of the night. It was mesmeric and it breathed fresh life into us. Rejuvenated, we made the final assault on the sharp wall of the re-entrant to reach the knife-edge ridge at 5:30 am. One of us breathlessly hummed the Carpenter song “I am on the top of the world….”, aptly capturing the emotion felt.
It was now when we were so close, that the unpredictability of the mountain started asserting itself. Coco, the Japanese who was on her second attempt to this peak and had been one of the strongest climbers amongst us, developed deep hypoxia and disorientation. She was given bottled oxygen and when she stabilized she was evacuated down from a point just 100m shy of the summit. Pankaj, Amit and Chain affected a very professional and timely rescue, but for which we dread to imagine how things could have turned out. Coco’s maturity and courage was remarkable – it must have been very disheartening to be denied the second time and that too from so close…
Two other climbers who were exhausted and suffering acute symptoms of altitude sickness including nausea also had to turn back close to the ridge after a very brave climb.
Three of us continued towards the distant player flags fluttering on the summit. The climb was literally on all fours on a rocky ridge, where a trip over the shoe-lace would have launched us on a long free-fall of thousands of feet on either side. The lethal verglas (thin sheen of ice formed by frozen melt-water on the rock-holds) was not very helpful either. After wheezing, puffing and panting for short spurts of climbing we took increasingly longer breaks. These pauses enabled us to reflect on our unhealthy living and each one of us made several resolutions, which we knew at a subconscious level we will break soon after resuming our normal lives.
Finally there was no further to climb! We collapsed on our knees and prayed our silent thanks in our own private emotional way! Why were we here? I don’t have an answer. To many, this pursuit may seem irrationally eccentric. It is difficult to comprehend what it means without experiencing it. I believe Walt Whitman caught the emotion right on: “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” In a metaphoric sense for these brief intense moments in our lives we were emulating the Lammergeir – its enviable freedom and its grace (not to forget the “sucking of the marrow”).
Stok Kangri from Advanced Base Camp
The climb down was brutal and far more dangerous. Suffering from bruised blue toes and trembling knees we finally arrived at the Base Camp at 1530h, 15 hours since we had set off. It took us two more days to reach Stok village – the first outpost of civilization on our path. The first site that welcomed us was a Mobile Tower standing proudly over the lush greenery of the village. I recalled a scene in the old 1968 classic, “Planet of the Apes”, where the symbol of civilization and its fate for the returned astronaut (Charlton Heston) is the Statue of Liberty. A more universal and contemporary symbol today would be none other than the Mobile Tower. Each one of us quickly put on our mobiles and called home to connect with our loved ones …..
By Aman Nugyal
Climber Stok Kangri Aug 11-20, 2008
Monday, December 17, 2007
A beautiful evening - Ruinsara Lake Trek Sep 2008
Waiting for the clouds to go away. Its been raining for more than 24 hrs now ! Brinda chatting up with the local boys.
Down in the valley the clouds start to break apart and light filters through. Beautiful !
Suddenly its beautiful everywhere !
Then there ia a rainbow !
A perfect one ! Infact there were two - the inverted one also which was lighter.
Followed by a beautiful sunset !
And a lovely warm fire to top it all - Brinda with the locals yet again. What an evening ! will stay in my memory for long.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Adventure Travel India
Adventure Travel
India is one of the popular tourist destinations in Asia. Surrounded by the Himalayan ranges in the north, and surrounded on three sides by water like, the Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal, and the Indian Ocean, with a long history and diverse culture, India offers a wide array of places to see and things to do. In 2004, foreign tourists visiting India and spent US$ 15.4 billion - the ninth highest in the world. India is also ranked among the top 3 adventure tourism destinations.
Tourism states in India are:
Andhra Pradesh: Andhra Pradesh is very good place for tourism. The weather is mostly tropical. June to September are the monsoon months and travel is not advised during this time. November to January are the best time to visit. Andhra Pradesh has a rich cultural heritage & variety of attractions including beaches, hills, wildlife, forests and temples.
Assam:
It has a rich cultural heritage going back to the Ahom Dynasty which governed the region for many centuries before the British occupation. Other notable features include Majuli, the world's largest river water island on the
Trekking in Himalayas
Trekking location in India can broadly be divided into two major areas: the Western Himalayas, covering the states of Jammu & Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh and Uttaranchal, and the Eastern Himalayas covering Darjeeling region of West Bengal, Sikkim, and Arunachal Pradesh. You can easily point out the locations of these trekking areas on the map on India trekking. Find out on the map the major trekking areas of the Western Himalayas - Garhwal and Kumaon regions in Uttaranchal. The areas around Gangotri and Yamunotri have quite a good number of popular treks.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Chopta Tungnath Trek
Chopta Tungnath Trek
Offering a lot for walking a little, the location of this trek is special. Standing right infront of the mighty Himalayas, these mountains are home to some great forests and some rare wildlife. The walk from the lake of Devariyatal to Chopta is really a "walk in the woods" and then the summit of Chandrashilla is just too inviting. The 360 degree view from the summit would stay in anyone's memories for a long time.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Trekking in Indian himalayas
The Himalayas are a mountain range in Asia, separating the Indian subcontinent from the Tibetan Plateau. The Himalayas comes from Sanskrit word Himalaya,meaning "the abode of snow" (from hima "snow", and ālaya "abode").
The Himalayas stretch across six nations: Bhutan, China, India, Nepal, Pakistan and Afghanistan. The home of several high peaks (all fourteen 8000-ers) in the world, the Himalayan range covers an area of 2400 km from Nanga Parbat in the west to Namche Barwa in the east. The main rivers of mountain chain are the Indus, the Ganges and the Brahmaputra. Besides these three there are Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi, Beas and Sutlej, the five sisters of the valley. They are the source of three of the world's major river systems, the Indus basin, the Ganga-Brahmaputra basin and the Yangtze basin. Approximately 2.4 billion people live in the drainage basin of these Himalayan rivers. From west to east,the Himalayas run from the Indus valley to the Brahmaputra valley, thereby forming an arc 2,400 km long, which varies in width from 400 km in the western Kashmir-Xinjiang region to 150 km in the eastern Tibet-Arunachal Pradesh region. The Himalayan chain consists of three parallel ranges, with the northern-most range known as the Great or Inner Himalayas.
Trekking in Himalayas There are difficult as well as easy treks, long as well as short.
The Himalayas stretch across six nations: Bhutan, China, India, Nepal, Pakistan and Afghanistan. The home of several high peaks (all fourteen 8000-ers) in the world, the Himalayan range covers an area of 2400 km from Nanga Parbat in the west to Namche Barwa in the east. The main rivers of mountain chain are the Indus, the Ganges and the Brahmaputra. Besides these three there are Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi, Beas and Sutlej, the five sisters of the valley. They are the source of three of the world's major river systems, the Indus basin, the Ganga-Brahmaputra basin and the Yangtze basin. Approximately 2.4 billion people live in the drainage basin of these Himalayan rivers. From west to east,the Himalayas run from the Indus valley to the Brahmaputra valley, thereby forming an arc 2,400 km long, which varies in width from 400 km in the western Kashmir-Xinjiang region to 150 km in the eastern Tibet-Arunachal Pradesh region. The Himalayan chain consists of three parallel ranges, with the northern-most range known as the Great or Inner Himalayas.
Trekking in Himalayas There are difficult as well as easy treks, long as well as short.
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