A Passage to Pindari

Collective guilt. Raghu, Ajay, Shridhar and I - we were all burdened with it after spending a great month in the mountains, away from our families (see http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2014/02/mantalai-magic-part-ii-climbs.html ). Mountain climbing tends to be a rather selfish indulgence, however much its proponents try and convince the world otherwise. The biggest beneficiary of climbing is the climber himself. The spouse and children have to cope with the absence of the mountaineer and must come to terms with the fact that once again they have been left to their own devices instead of spending quality time together as a family.

A family trek to the Pindari glacier in Kumaon was the peace offering we came up with. For years I had heard and read about this wonderful trek and had formed a picture in my head of a trail peppered with hikers at every turn and the destination, Zero Point, crowded with the tents and chatter of hundreds of people, perhaps akin to the hordes at Everest Base Camp. If I was looking for a sea of humanity, the Kumbh Mela is where I would go, and not the Himalaya. I am not a misanthrope, but I detest crowds! To ensure that we would not be bumping into others of our ilk also seeking the solitude of the hills, we chose the period during the festival of Diwali, a time when most people in India prefer to spend with their families in their hometowns.

Saung, the road head for the Pindari trek in 1997, was a fair distance from our hometowns. The minibus we had hired to transport us from Kathgodam reached Saung a little before midnight on 29th October in complete darkness. With headlamps bobbing like fireflies our little band of moms and dads and kids and two bachelors stumbled up the 3 km path to the Rest House at Loharkhet. Raghu was accompanied by his wife Ajanta and his twelve year old son Siddhartha. Ajay and Jayanti Tambe had brought their  7 year old son Akshay, who was just a month older than my son  Sanal. The Tambe threesome had been with Margaret, Sanal and I four years earlier, when we had trekked to the pastures of Lalanti, below the Charang Ghati pass in Kinnaur - see http://accidentaltrekker.blogspot.ca/2014/01/tiny-tots-in-tirung.html . Shyama and Shridhar had both their kids in tow : little Shruti, who at five years old was the youngest member of our troupe, and Shreyas who was six months older than Akshay. For Shyama, this would be her very first Himalayan trek and she was as excited as her young daughter Shruti. Rajesh and Kiran made up the bachelor duo and were charged with keeping the kids entertained and out of trouble!

Rajesh had prepared an altitude chart for the trek: we had been warned!

The hike up to the Dhakuri khal from Loharkhet is a fairly steep haul of more than a thousand meters and quite stiff for the introductory day of a trek. A cold rain, mixed occasionally with snow, fell as we climbed up to the pass and kept us diving into the wayside tea shops for some respite. The kids performed magnificently, with nary a complaint. The Rest House at Dhakuri was a welcome stop for the night.

Jayanti spinning a yarn for the kids

With the flames licking the stones of the old fireplace in one of the rooms, Jayanti gathered the children around her and proceeded to tell them a little ghost story, in keeping with the ambience. Shruti and Sanal listened with rapt attention while Akshay's face clearly said,"Oh come on, mom, I've heard this one before!"

The wet socks drying over the fire gave off an aroma quite appropriate to a horror story, though that did not stop us from drifting off into a blissful slumber after the hard day's walk.

A sudden loud commotion in the middle of the night made me hurry into the next room. Shyama was lying very still, her body extremely cold, eyelids heavy as if drugged, and not responding to Shridhar's calls. Shyama is a petite woman blessed with many talents, including those of a Drama Queen if she chooses to; but this time she was not play acting. Seeing her mother in such a helpless state,  Shruti had begun sobbing. Jayanti immediately whisked her away to the other room.

We bundled Shyama into three sleeping bags, rubbed her feet and hands and Shridhar slapped her cheeks gently till she began to speak incoherently, and mumbled that she was freezing. Shridhar takes a very scientific approach to the problems that he is faced with - in this case, he stripped off his clothes, wriggled into the sleeping bag with Shyama and applied the principle of Direct Heat Transfer. It worked! The peak of the crisis had passed, we were relieved. She had been extremely exhausted and dehydrated while climbing up to Dhakuri and the damp cold of the rain and snow had apparently taken a heavy toll on her resources. She had eaten very poorly in the night and was probably very low on reserves.

The Rest House at Dhakuri is surely one of the most fabulously located stops anywhere in the Himalaya, commanding a head on ringside view of the peak of Maiktoli and the graceful spire of Panwali Dwar anchoring the long ridges extending east wards to the right.

Maiktoli - 6803m

The magnificent sunrise slowly turning the peak of Maiktoli golden the next morning helped to lift everyone's spirits. Better still, we were to go downhill, at least for the first part of the day! A pony had been allotted to Ajanta, who had initially elected to ride it as she was not very confident that she could trust her own legs on the trail. However, after a couple of hours on the home made saddle, she decided that her two legs were better than the four hoofs of her ride - sore feet were preferable to a very sore butt at the end of the day!

Nandakot - 6861m

L to R : Shreyas, Sanal, Siddhartha

A strategically placed tea shop at the bottom of the descent from Dhakuri provided the perfect turning point for the trail as it now followed the valley of the Pindar river northeast  to Khati. An icy wedge of a peak, with the top almost horizontal as if carved by a carpenter's chisel, now appeared on the horizon : Nanda Kot. We arrived at the beautifully perched village of Khati in the afternoon, with plenty of time to prepare for the Diwali festivities. A modest supply of sparklers and crackers kept our kids and the local children occupied and happy while Rajesh opened the box of  besan (chick pea flour) laddoos his mother had thoughtfully packed for him. Rajesh too was experiencing his first trek in the Himalaya, so the celebration was apt.

The village of Khati. 

The stretch from Khati to Dwali was perhaps the most enchanting and least rigorous of the Pindari trail as it wound through woods of chestnut and the occasional bamboo, gaining height slowly and graced by the gurgling of brooks and streams as they wormed their way through the verdant slopes, to eventually lose themselves in the crystal clear waters of the Pindar river in its autumn avatar. We halted at another strategically placed tea shop beside the river and quickly consumed the owner's entire stock of eggs!

Shruti (left) and Sanal and the dog at the tea shop

Thus fortified, and also reinforced by the addition of a dog who had attached himself to the party, the happy hikers crossed the last bridge to the Rest House at Dwali, located at the junction of the Pindar and Kafni torrents. If the building at Dhakuri had been superlative in terms of placement, the Rest House at Dwali exuded a cosy intimacy. I could not help but think that the people who had scouted for the locations and decided to build the Rest Houses where they did were artists imbued with a great sense of the picturesque. To them the weary traveller owes a great deal, as the cottages provide sustenance for the soul as well as rest for exhausted bodies.

The Rest House at Dwali

Sanal holds on to the dog while Shruti pokes her finger at him. Siddhartha, Akshay and Shreyas  at the back. 

The second day of November dawned crisp and clear, bringing out all the trigger happy adult males with their cameras. The upper section of Nanda Devi's East peak could just be seen as an icy pyramid jutting out from behind the ridge of Nanda Khat. As we neared the Rest House of Phurkia, intermittent patches of snow began to appear on the ground and we realised that while we had been walking in the rain two days earlier, up here the precipitation had taken the form of snow.

The summit pyramid of Nanda Devi East (7434m) rises behind the long ridge of Nandakhat

We were treated to a grand display in the sky as the sun set, a massive mushroom cloud  shot through and lit by shafts of orange sunlight could easily have passed for a thermonuclear explosion as seen in the movies. The night turned cold and we debated the wisdom of proceeding with the children up to Zero Point through the snow that now covered the trail upwards. Our original plan had been to camp out in our tents at Zero Point and spend two days up there.

Phurkia. Nandakhat dominates the head of the Pindar valley

A compromise was reached by common consensus. Rajesh and Raghu volunteered to stay back at Phurkia with the wives and kids and begin the journey back to Dwali in the morning while the rest of us were determined that we just had to reach the end of the trail and meet the pasha of Pindari : the Baba who had set up shop near Zero Point. The course of action having been decided, we settled down to play Uno from the comfort of our sleeping bags.

The group at Phurkia
Back Row L to R : Ajay, Jayanti, Margaret, Rajesh
Middle Row L to R : Kiran, Aloke, Siddhartha, Raghu, Ajanta, Shridhar , Maghram (our guide)
Front Row L to R : Sanal, Shruti, Shyama, Shreyas, Akshay

Suddenly set free from the natural restraints of children, Ajay, Shridhar, Kiran and I zipped up the snowbound trail in the morning and reached the little shelter of the Pindari Baba. He was a slightly built man with a friendly disposition and graciously invited us to his hearth where he insisted on making dinner for us. He showed us the stony plots where he was trying to grow potatoes in the summer. Later that evening we listened to his story.

Ajay (left) and Shridhar 

Approaching Pindari Baba's abode. Changuch peak in the background.

Originally from the state of Orissa, his pursuit of the hermit's life had led him to Gangotri where he soon realised that there was too much competition in his trade. This led him to seek greener pastures and his quest eventually led him to the moraine of the Pindari Glacier below Zero Point. He told us that he would soon retreat down the valley with the onset of winter and make his way back up towards the end of February. He said he saw many trekkers in the summer months and once a retired Army officer expressed a keen desire to be his disciple and eventually don the sacred robes of a Baba himself. Pindari Baba took him on as a neophyte and assigned some simple and menial chores as an introduction to the discipline needed to embark upon a spiritual life. The officer seemed to be doing fairly well till a succession of trekking groups with attractive and nubile maidens began showing up at the height of the season. Though under strict instructions to stay aloof, solitary and out of sight, the officer's resolve began to weaken and he began sneaking out of his meditation chamber to take delight and pleasure in the company of these young women who seemed prettier than the rhododendron blooms that lined the trails and the primulas that adorned the slopes.

Pindari Baba shook his head as he narrated this story. "I had to fire him," he said cheerfully. "I told him that he was not yet ready for sanyaas!"

Ajay appears content in the knee-deep snow...

The night was cold, clear and starry. Ajay and I spread some dry grass on the snow outside the shelter, placed our sleeping mats over them and wriggled into our sleeping bags, pulling the bivouac sacs over them. We were tired after a little excursion we had made earlier in almost waist deep snow to gain some height so we could peek over the saddle between Panwali Dwar and Baljauri in the hope of catching a glimpse of Nanda Devi East. Alas, a build up of clouds robbed us of any vision we might have been rewarded with.We chatted as we watched the stars slowly spiral in the heavens over Nandakhat and Changuch and drifted off to sleep.

Nandakhat - 6611 m

Panwali Dwar (6663 m), right and Baljauri, left

Changuch - 6322m
(Link to an excellent video on the First Ascent of this peak : http://vimeo.com/7232746 )

Panwali Dwar (left) and Nandakhat (right) from the Baba's shelter

Baljauri (left) and Panwali Dwar (right)

The next day we descended all the way to Khati to catch up with the rest of the group. Our efforts were rewarded when we were treated to an invigorating oil head massage by Margaret and Rajesh, which was followed by a dinner of deep fried puris - thankfully, we did not have to use the same oil which had been rubbed into our scalps!

Shridhar enjoying the head massage by Margaret.

Jayanti frying puris!

We decided to compensate the kids for having been deprived of sleeping in tents at Zero Point as they had been promised : when we reached Dhakuri we pitched all the tents in the lawns outside the Rest House and spent an extra day enjoying the gorgeous scenery and the red billed blue magpies who sailed serenely from their perches, their long tails drawing an invisible line in the sky over which the snows of Maiktoli carved their icy sculpture.

Camping out at Dhakuri

Time out for some of the adults!
L to R : Shridhar, Aloke, Rajesh, Margaret, Shyama, Jayanti, Kiran, Ajay.

Red billed Blue Magpie

The last day saw Ajay and me scrambling up to Dhakuri Top from the notch from where we would descend back to Loharkhet. We reached the wide grassy slopes and spread out the contour map we carried. It was immensely rewarding to identify all the peaks from this excellent vantage point. We grinned with happiness as we trained our lenses in every direction, not quite sure if it was for real. The Passage to Pindari had certainly lived up to the hype!

Panwali Dwar from Dhakuri Top

Panch Chuli II from Dhakuri Top

Tiny Tots in the Tirung

Mules can carry enormous loads in the mountains - everyone knows that. Ask Raj Kumar if they have any other special abilities and he will tell you that they can also help you find your way in complete darkness. On a dark and moonless night, Raj Kumar held on to the tail of a mule carrying trekking supplies and made his way safely back to Thangi where the rest of us awaited him. Raghu and I had clocked in a few minutes earlier, sharing a torch between us to prevent us from stubbing our boots on the roots of trees and plunging headlong into the swirling waters of the Tirung nala hurtling far down the slope.

View from Kalpa

As Raghu and I fumbled our way on to the open veranda of the wooden house we were to spend the night in, we could hear robust singing, not entirely in tune, accompanied by peals of laughter. The rest of the group was obviously in high spirits, having arrived many hours earlier and reaping the rewards of a full belly. Now it was our turn: a polite gentleman appeared out of the dark, attired in the uniform of the Indo-Tibet Border Police (ITBP).

"Sir," he said gently, "do come and have dinner with us." We followed him to another wooden building where a small detachment of the force was posted. We squatted on the floor while hot rice and dal was ladled out on stainless steel plates for us. It was a simple meal, and once again I was touched by the hospitality of the soldiers that man the far flung valleys and mountains of the Indian Himalaya. Thangi in 1993 did not cater to tourists or trekkers and the ITBP men relieved our cook Raj Kumar from the chore of cooking for our group of men,women and children. He had rendered sterling service during the last ten days and was now looking forward to the return to Kalpa.

Raldang Tower (5499 m) from Kalpa

Thangi had been the roadhead for our trek up to the meadows of Lalanti. Planned originally as an opportunity to acclimatize for Ajay Tambe, Harshavardhan Subbarao and I before we went climbing in the Chango Glacier further to the north in Kinnaur, it had soon snowballed into a motley group comprised of thirteen persons accompanied by Raj Kumar. My wife Margaret joined the group with our three and a half year old son Sanal. Not to be outdone, Ajay's wife Jayanti  brought their son Akshay who was only a month older than Sanal. Anita and Mark Krishna, who live in London, comprised the third couple. Raghu Iyer, Franklyn Silveira and my sister Ipi made up the singles' club. Harsha's friend Aneeta Wadia who had trekked with us to the Dibibokri two years earlier ( see http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2013/09/dibibokri-dreaming-part-1-freedom-of.html   ) was the other young lady in the group.

Akshay (left) and Sanal catch the sun at Lalanti

We reached the green open slopes of Lalanti in three stages from Thangi. Entertainment along the way was provided when one of our mules sat down on a very rocky section of the trail and refused to budge. He was eventually persuaded to move his ass when four of us joined hands under his belly and heaved; fortunately, the beast decided not to kick our heads off our necks and we survived the ignominy and the laughter from the non-participants.

Day Two saw us setting off from Lambar. By late afternoon we were groping along the side of the Shurting torrent in knee deep water, clinging to the false security of the rocks on the cliff before we found a suitable ford. As the shadows lengthened we pitched tents among boulders and thorny bushes in a shallow ravine.

Sanal rides piggy back with his mother along the Tirung river

The slog up to Lalanti the next day was only relieved by a glimpse of the peak of Phawararang (6349m) up a side valley. A cold wind was blowing as we camped and Raj Kumar got busy getting his kitchen shelter organized. The rather quick ascent to approximately 14,500 feet took a small toll on some of us who complained of headaches and nausea. Surprisingly, the two little boys seemed to be the fittest of us all as they chased some of the baby yaks grazing around us!

Phawararang - 6349 m

Jayanti had come equipped to cater to their needs and the next day she had them drawing and painting outside on the grass. The rest of us amused ourselves as best we could. For Ajay and myself this meant hiking up towards the Charang Ghati pass at 17,000 feet and huddling in the wind, watching the prayer flags flutter like souls possessed. When we returned, we found a group of people from the village of Charang who had come up to do the popular circumambulation of the Kinner Kailash massif. They appeared quite surprised to see our two little boys enjoying the comforts of the Lalanti pastures.

A few days later saw us back at the junction where the Shurting nala flows into the Tirung. This is also where we realized that we had brought supplies way beyond our needs, especially lentils, flour, and rice. Our muleteer was quick to spot an opportunity and offered to buy off our excess at a discount! No wonder the folks living on India's mountainous borders excel as traders....

At Thangi, the singing went on late into the night while the kids slept. We were back in the fabulously located Circuit House in Kalpa the next day after stopping at Rekong Peo for a lunch of exquisite momos.

The group separated a couple of days later. Ajay, Harsha, Raghu, Franklyn and I would be heading up to the Chango Glacier in the north eastern corner of Kinnaur while the rest were descending to the flesh pots of Shimla. The sadness of seeing my son and wife depart was tempered by the anticipation of the adventures that surely lurked amidst the peaks of the Chango. For that story, see http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2014/01/the-chango-chronicles-1993-first.html

Trekking is hard work!

The Charang Ghati pass (5200m) lies at the far end of this valley above Lalanti

Sketch map by the late Arun Samant for "Exploring the Hidden Himalaya" (1990) published by Hodder & Stoughton for The Himalayan Club

Across the Jalsu

"Uncle! Uncle!", the shouts were shrill and loud and full of excitement. I glanced up the trail and saw the kids swarming around a large boulder embedded into the grassy slope. One of our guides was with them and he was poking around in a small crevice in the rock with a twig.

"We have discovered a new species of snake.....! Come take a picture and send it to National Geographic!" I knew I was in trouble: a couple of days earlier I had confidently stated to them that serpents were rare in the higher altitudes of the Himalaya and if they actually did find one they might be rewarded by some elite international organisation like the Smithsonian Institute for their discovery.

We were a couple of kilometres above Hadsar on our way back from Duggi. I scrambled up the slope, asked them to step aside and began to probe the shadowy depths of the crevice inside which the snake was ensconced. After a few attempts, and helped by the curiosity of the reptile, my lens picked up an image. The children cheered. We left the nervous snake to its sinuous adjustments and resumed our journey.

But the topic was not yet closed. Gavin walked beside me and asked very earnestly,"Uncle, how much money do you think National Geographic would be willing to pay for this picture of a newly discovered snake?" The question threw me off, but I hazarded a guess anyway, "I'd say $ 10,000 at least!" I was going by the lavish production qualities of the magazine and its international standing.

"How much would that be in rupees?" Gavin wanted to know. When I converted the money into the then prevailing exchange rate, the kids let out whoops of joy. "We'll be rich!" they shouted and went prancing down the trail.

Alas, we had not really discovered a new serpent on the planet, so the children had to be content with the ten rupees that they charged us for putting up an impromptu play that evening when we reached Hadsar! While everyone took the next day off I set off on the trail to Manimaheshwar lake. The trail was well signposted, with helpful distance markers and even more helpful exhortations for the faltering pilgrim!

"There is strength in devotion"

"The Almighty's Mill turns slowly but grinds very fine"

In spite of the signs, I did not quite make it up to the lake, but had to turn around at the spot ravaged by the passage of hundreds of pilgrims who make the annual pilgrimage to the lake. I could see the trail snaking up to the ridge behind which lay the sacred waters. There were permanent platforms which had been carved into the slopes to accommodate temporary shelters and tea stalls.

Turning my eyes to the ground, I found relief : there were wildflowers everywhere, and my ears were soothed by the reassuring sound of waterfalls cascading over rock.

That evening's entertainment at Hadsar was organised by the kids : they put up an impromptu skit for which they extracted a princely fee of ten rupees from us. Some of that income was used to buy bidis (a cigarette made from the tendu leaf) from a little shop and I caught them smoking and coughing and giggling all at the same time as they tried this new experience! I wondered what they would have done with the big bucks from National Geographic if we had really discovered a new species of snake!

The cast exits the stage! L to R : Tim, Gavin, Sanal, Adele.

The plot, as I recall, revolved around an itinerant street entertainer with his performing monkey and it was conceived and directed by Adele, who has since gone on to make theatre her profession in Canada!

After this performance, we were ready to move on to Phase II of our trek : to hike over the Jalsu Pass ( 3600 m / 11,800 ft ). We had a jeep drop us off at the small village of Deol in the main Ravi valley  where we spent the night in a room kindly offered to us by a lady who owned a little shop on the road. She absolutely refused any form of payment for her kindness. This form of universal generosity that characterises most of the hill people is what draws me back again and again to the Himalaya - the old fashioned values which are not governed by filthy lucre!

At Deol, we spent the night in the house on the right

The walk from Deol to Surai was quite pleasant, many times in the company of shepherds and their flocks and it was enlivened by a steep climb up to a ridge before dropping down again. The evening's entertainment was provided by Franklyn's sleeping bag rolling off the hillside as we unpacked to set up camp. Fortunately for him, it came to a stop just above a raging torrent and could be retrieved.

Trail between Deol and Surai

The camp at Surai

Tim finds the spotlight at Surai...

Adele became my faithful camera assistant after my near fatal fall at the Yara Got campsite -  http://accidentaltrekker.blogspot.ca/2012/08/life-begins-at-10000-feet.html . She cheerfully carried my spare lenses while I hiked with one arm in a sling. The team made it to the Jalsu Pass and we posed for the mandatory photos before beginning the long descent on the south. Gavin left his camera on the pass and hurried down the trail. Hours later, and a couple of thousand feet lower, he realised his loss and was thrown into a panic. He was sure his parents would chastise him for the loss and he was ready to climb back up the slopes to retrieve it. He had started back up the trail when we stopped him - I pulled out the camera from one of the pockets on my backpack and handed it to him: the sense of relief on his face was quite something to see!

Approaching Jalsu Pass

Climbing up to the pass

Mandatory photo on Jalsu Pass
Standing L to R : Margaret, Franklyn , Aloke and our two guides
Sitting L to R : Adele, Sanal, Gavin, Timothy

I sensed an immediate change in the environment : the cool dry air of the northern pastures gave way to the rather more moist air on the southern slopes of these hills. The soft, pale lighter shades of rhododendron changed to  saturated crimson and a tropical  green began to overshadow the alpine shades. We found a great swimming hole later in the afternoon and a dip in the cool waters refreshed our bodies and our hearts.

We camped on a field at Parai where the only tea shop served up fresh eggs while the children amused themselves by chasing the chickens down the rutted path outside.

More excitement followed the next evening at Uttarala where we foolishly pitched our tents, on the advice (which we should have ignored) of our guides, right below the head wall of a concrete dam holding back millions of gallons of water in a reservoir upstream: I dread to think about the consequences if there had been an earth tremor or quake......

As if camping in harm's way was not enough, the boys decided to hide the little steel tumbler containing the caretaker's chai while he was busy explaining the controls of the dam machinery to Franklyn and me. When the man discovered his loss, he was incensed and chased the kids right down the walkway on the dam wall! Profuse apologies later, we managed to redeem both the tumbler and the situation and grounded the lads in their tents. Adele came into our tent later to mediate on their behalf. More impressed by her negotiating skills than the lack of remorse on the part of the guilty, we agreed to lift the curfew with some clauses attached!

Thus ended a memorable mountain holiday. All that was left was to walk down the road and hop into a bus and then make our way back to Bhagsu, above McLeodganj. Bhagsu was home to Narendra, a mountain guide and climbing instructor I had come to know during an expedition 8 months earlier in the Kumaon Himalaya. He invited us for a simple but sumptuous dinner prepared for us by his wife and we were pleased to meet with his family.

Narendra and his family

The mandatory visit to the monastery at McLeodganj followed. Unfortunately, the Dalai Lama was away at the time but we did get a sense of how a government in exile has functioned successfully for over 50 years and how a people displaced from their homeland in the high mountain plateau of Tibet have coped in a host community.

With a heartfelt Om Mane Padme Hum ("Hail to the Jewel in the Lotus") we bid farewell to the mountains.

Adele and Franklyn cross a stream after descending the Jalsu Pass

Margaret stops to chat with a Gaddi woman

The Good Shepherd ensuring his little lambs don't get wet!

All creatures great and small sleeping the sleep of the just!

Butterfly spotted between Duggi and Kugti village