<<< Part 1: The Spirit of the Himalayas
Part II: Roopkund, Forever!
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Nanda Devi was drowned in nostalgia… It had been over a century since her marriage with Lord Shiva. Since then, she had not visited her parental home even for once. She felt lonely, longing to visit her home…
Back home, King Himawat was also worried – the last water source of the kingdom was drying up fast. It rained very little in the past decade. The crops had failed, and fierce winds seemed to tear down the town. It was as if happiness had long left the kingdom… Queen Nainawati went to the Baaman (head priest) and asked for resolution of the misery. The Baaman, a maestro in yoga and meditation, closed his eyes for just a few seconds to find root of the solution- “The town is sad because Nanda Devi is sad. The solution lies with her” he said.
Nainawati narrated the incident to her husband. Heet (which means good wish) was conceived only to fulfil the wishes of his parents, ie to bring Nanda Devi to her home. Soon, preparations were underway for Heet for the long journey ahead.
Heet began the arduous journey to the Kailash. He walked through dark and lonely villages up and down the barren hills, crossing dried-up rivers and burnt-out forests of deodar and pines. The meadows were devoid of any vegetation; cattle’s carcass were scattered here and there. He crossed dangerous mountain passes, trudged through an ocean of boulders (Shila Samudra), negotiated gaping crevasses and slogged through a treacherous trail; and after a treacherous journey of 100 days, he finally reached Kailash.
An overwhelmed Nanda Devi happily accepted her brother’s invitation to visit her native. They retraced their path through the treacherous trail, negotiating the crevasses, Shila Samudra and dangerous mountain passes. The return journey, however, was swift since Heet had carefully marked the path earlier.
As Nanda Devi stepped onto the meadows, little flowers sprouted, reflecting the state of mind of the Goddess of Nature. She was overjoyed, for she was now entering in her own familiar realm! After over a century, she would meet her family and friends!
All the sorrows vanished magically as she entered the kingdom, just as the Baaman foretold. Springs sprouted in water-sources, the ferocious winds turned into a cool breeze and food grains were aplenty! A celebration reverberated across the kingdom; the palace especially was once again bustling with activity –a daughter had come home after a long time!
Soon, time had come for Nanda Devi to return to her husband’s place. The entire kingdom joined her journey back to Kailash.
Every twelve years, Nanda Devi is invited to visit her native home and is then escorted back to Kailash by the entire kingdom. Over the years, this yatra (ie journey) is come to be known as Nanda Devi Raj Jat Yatra (literally, either ‘Nanda Devi goes (Jat) to her own kingdom (Raj)’, or ‘we all go to Nanda Devi’s kingdom’).
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| Image Source: www.nandadevijat.com |
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Day 4: Bedni Bugyal to Patar Nachauni (3965 m)
Today was the “easiest day”, because not much climb was involved. However, this day would actually turn out to be the most difficult, since it would enable us to discover in ourselves some good Spirits and a new sense of perseverance!
We had to leave at a comfortable 9 am, so I took my own sweet time packing my things, putting on my shoes, having my breakfast, washing my plates (yes, the water was cold), filling my water bottles and readying myself. It was foggy, and there were chances of rain. I wore the rain-jacket permanently, and it worked as windcheater as well.
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| Army officers |
As we assembled to start the trek, I saw the army personnel listening to their leader with rapt attention at some distance after which they did the jaikaras – “Bharat Mata kii Jay!” We too joined them in doing the jaikaras in unison! Feeling motivated due to that sudden burst of energy, I started the eventful climb to Patar Nachauni.
The trail led us to a dried-up Bedni Kund. “Bedni” is derived from Vedas. According to Inderjit ji, it was here that Maharshi Ved Vyas (Vyas means “to divide” or “to split”) segregated the single Veda into three sacred Vedas. (The fourth one, ie Atharvaveda was recognized as a Veda much later). Maharshi Ved Vyas is also the author of Mahabharat.
This lake is also known as “Vaitarani” (symbolically, vai means “no” and tarani means “swimming/ crossing”: according to legends, women were forbidden to cross/ go further from that point). The lake is actually an embankment built to catch rain waters and small streams. Excess water discharges naturally in the form of a stream, which then joins numerous other streams to form the Neel Ganga River.
From Bedni Kund, a short climb of 30 mins brought us back to main trail to Roopkund. It was a pleasant walk onwards, mostly through the fog, the incline least bothering us. A constant flow of trekkers came from the opposite direction (ie after completing the trek). I congratulated everyone, and they wished me luck.
Suddenly I heard an anxious commotion some distance ahead. Through the thick fog, I saw in horror that Devanshi Shah (from Mumbai) had fallen off the edge of the trail. I was shocked, seeing the Death so near, as I saw Devanshi roll-off head-first over the ledge. 
Luckily, there was a rock just off the edge of the trail, which saved her from rolling into the bottomless nadir underneath. As I noticed, it was a solitary rock, ie there was no other rock in its vicinity apart from this… Rahul Nadendla had clung to her leg as she fell, and helped her get back to her feet. Although shaken, she was so cheerful afterwards that she took just little time to regain her composure and Spirit. There are Spirits everywhere – both the good and the bad ones. But, to recognize power of a good Spirit, there has to be a bad Spirit! |
| Pic Courtesy: Manas |
Soon, we reached a saddle point (ie, a mountain pass) from where we would cross-over to the other side of the mountain. In ancient times, since there was no trail further, the horses used to return from that point. Thus, over the years, the mountain pass had come to be known as Ghora Lautani (3971 m) (Ghora = Horse, Lautani = Return). 
We rested here for some time. It had become very foggy and quite windy. The only colours I could see were the colourful flowers which Kalaam Singh had tied on his walking stick.
It was a gradual descent from Ghora Lautani to the next camp, although the mountain slopes were steeper and looked more dangerous. As we restarted our trek, Bhargav complained of a splitting headache. At high altitude, due to lower level of oxygen, headache can be a sign of Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS). I was suddenly reminded of the Facebook post from Indiahikes in which they broke the sad news of demise of a trekker from one of the previous batches. The trekker had died due to AMS… The only cure is to descend to a lower altitude as fast as possible.
However, headaches could also occur due to exertion and lack of sleep, which is common during treks. So our trek leader Honey Sharma decided to conduct some tests at the next camp ie Patar Nauchani, and also anyways, it was downhill trek till that camp. It was as if a war was waged between good Spirit and bad Spirit. Thankfully, he didn’t have AMS – and he was so tolerant to the pain that finally the good Spirit won, and he would continue his trek further!
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| Pic Courtesy: Manas |
The onward trek to Patar Nauchani was beautiful in its own way – the Greatest Artist had created some of the most exquisite patterns and designs of rocks on the slopes here! I could feel the tranquillity and solitude of the place as soon as I crossed Ghora Lautani. We had been cut-off from the rest of the world long back – there had been no phone signal since the time we crossed Ali Bugyal. However, it was only during this stretch that I had the familiar feeling of solitude among the mighty Himalayas, as if I had left the earthly matters behind and become a hermit!
After a steady walk on the rock-strewn mountain trail, we reached Patar Nauchani. Patar Nauchani was like mini-Bedni – colourful tents spread across green carpet of grass. Our campsite was located off the main trail to Roopkund, so that to reach it, we had to go downhill to our right, leaving the main trail on our left. It was foggy all the way, but as soon as we reached the camps, the fog cleared for a short duration to give us the majestic view of the adjacent mountains. At some distance ahead, on another saddle point down the main trail, one could see the green eco-huts of Patar Nauchani, ie the bunker-like huts set-up by the forest department as a part of preparation for this year’s Raj Jat yatra. Further down the green-huts, we could also see our next day’s trail till Kalu Vinayak which was zigzagging skywards into the clouds, like the giant tree in story of Jack and the Beanstalk! “A difficult climb awaits us” I thought, “difficult, but beautiful…”
We were greeted by the camp leader Vivian. Among other things, we were advised not to waste water – since there was no natural stream nearby, the locals had to bring the water from a stream some way down the valley on the back of mules.
We had lunch: daal and rice along with papad. The warm food in the cold weather provided a much needed energy booster. Though the air was thin, Ravindra Kumar (from IIM A), Praveen, Shreyas (from Mumbai), Vinay (works for an IT company in Delhi), Kalaam and I played Frisbee after the lunch. The disc seemed to go lost in the fog, or come suddenly out of it! After an hour of playing hide-and-seek with Frisbee, at around 2.30 pm, I heard a call from Honey Sharma – it was time to go for acclimatization walk.
During such ‘walks’ (actually, it’s a tough climb!), we go higher up the altitude for a short period so that our body adapts faster to the low levels of oxygen. This time, we climbed a nearby summit which was about 250 meters higher than our camp.
The climb started from the saddle point where the green-huts of the forest department were set-up. Around the eco-huts, there were other tents set up by the individual trekkers, and also a small temporary eatery serving omelettes and Maggi.
The climb was steep and rather dangerous – we had to climb on a ridge and just a small slip could result in a fall miles below on the either side. Many a times I had feelings of vertigo. For some moments when the fog used to clear, one could see the campsite way down below against the backdrop of mighty mountains. Otherwise, it remained foggy throughout. After an hour of vertiginous climb, we finally reached the summit.
It was a great feeling to climb up to the top of a mountain! We sat around the cairn which marked the summit of the mountain. Since it was foggy all around, nothing was visible beyond 20 meters. After half an hour of photography, roaming about and excited chit-chat, we got up to descend back to the camp. The descent was surprisingly easy, and the feelings of vertigo vanished. Maybe my body had begun to acclimatize itself to the thin air…
As I walked, I noticed some locals searching for something among the grasses of the meadows on the steep slopes, like needle in the haystack. Inderjit ji told us that they were searching for an elusive herb called Keeda Jadi. It is cordyceps sinensis, a type of fungus which grows from a dead insect (ie keeda). These are used for making drugs which are usually banned in India. It is very expensive – each jadi sells for about Rs. 500. This is one of the sources of the livelihood for the local tribes, as I also noticed their nomadic lifestyles – they live in temporary bivouacs down the slope of the mountain, far away from their villages of Sutol or Kanol some 2000 m further downhill (on the banks of Nandakini River). Inderjit ji, along with Shreyas, took a detour to find that elusive jadi, but even after searching for hours, they could find none. The local tribes too hardly find it – just 5-6 jadis after squinting their eyes for the whole day.
We soon returned to our camps and enjoyed the evening snacks (popcorns!). The sun had resigned itself behind the clouds and the skies glowed red. While Honey and Vivian measured pulse rate and oxygen count in our bodies inside one of the dome-tents (as a part of the mandatory medical check-ups), the wind velocity suddenly increased. To our horror, the large dinner tent suddenly began to crumble. There were some trek-mates still inside, attempting to stop the tent from blowing away. But it was too dangerous – the wind was too strong and the tent could have blown away along with the people inside. Also, the rods which supported the tent were falling apart, so they could have got hurt. As the whole tent fluttered violently, it was immediately evacuated – and was pulled down. Honey, Vivian and the other crew members put large rocks on the flattened tent to prevent it from blowing away.
As the night slowly crept in, the heavens opened and we were advised to stay put in the tents. Although the tent was claustrophobic, it was enjoyable listening to my tent-mate Praveen talk about his adventures – his 3-day solitude in the dense jungles of Kerala all by himself and his adventures at Binsar (near Almora) just before the Roopkund trek. The dinner was served in the tents only. In the weather where one would not dare to put any part of the body outside, the crew members showed tremendous hospitality and served the dinner with great joviality, which was uplifting in every way. The dinner was also very tasty, and the icing on the cake was fruits-laden Custard!
But even the custard was not able to soothe my acidity – I had also begun to have pangs of acidity myself. I recalled how Praveen had felt the previous day “…as if atom bombs are exploding in my stomach”, and I began to understand its meaning. I decided not to take the Diamox tablet anymore. I didn’t know then that many people were suffering from the same. It was so severe that in the night during breaks from the sleep, I felt as if I am turning into a dragon: my insides seemed to be on fire!
The night at Patar Nauchani was scarier than in Bedni Bugyal. It was so cold that even six layers of clothing were not enough. The fierce winds, accompanied by heavy rains, rocked the tents and I had a feeling that I would wake up far below into the valley in the morning. Even in that ferocious night, Praveen ventured out due to the stomach pain. Later I learned that Shreyas, accompanied by his brother Manas (from Mumbai), also went for the same adventure. In the night when visibility is next to zero and wind is cold and ferocious, it was as if they were guided by the good Spirit…
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As Queen Balampa rests in her cosy tent, plush with modern amenities, she overhears a tense conversation between the head Priest and her husband Raja Jasdhaval, the King of Kannauj. “We have to turn back, she mustn’t have crossed Vaitarani” says the priest worriedly, looking at the terrible weather. It has been raining continuously for past week. But the King is calm - “Don’t you worry Guruji, I have got trained mid-wives, musclemen and mountaineers from all over the kingdom to take care of Balampa” he replies. “Moreover, I have come here to thank Nanda Devi for blessing me with a child, why would she be angry with me?”
The King’s royal entourage, which consists of around 500 people, is celebrating the birth of an heir by attending the sacred Nanda Devi Raj Jat Yatra. But Nanda Devi is far from happy – the King, who has a predilection for song and dance, has also brought a troupe of dancing girls along with him. The boisterous singing and dancing is prohibited in a sacred place such as this.
Moreover, both the mother and the child are considered “impure” just after the childbirth, till a certain period has been passed.
The King, egged by his sycophantic ministers, orders some song and dance after that little but tense conversation. Nanda Devi is now fully enraged by the lack of reverence shown by the dancing girls. Within seconds, the earth beneath the ballerinas turns to swamp. Deep craters are formed and three dancing girls (Nauchani) are swallowed straight to the hell (Patal). Over the years, the place would come to be known as Patar Nauchani (or literally the dancing troupe).
Meanwhile, the Priest has a horrific vision – an enraged Goddess Kali, adorned with a garland of skulls and wielding a blood- coated sword, fanatic in a fearsome Tandava (dance of Death)…
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Day 5: Patar Nauchani to Bhagwabasa (4300 m) via Kalu Vinayak mountain pass (4437 m)
In the morning, it was still cloudy and the visibility was still poor. But the Himalayas command its own weather, and in just 3 hours, “keep your ponchos handy” changed to “keep your sunscreens ready”!
The water was bitter cold: my fingers were numb from washing plates which were still dirty after last night’s dinner. The stomach, however, was no longer complaining (for the time being). 
As we packed our bags, Devanshi distributed candies to each one. Vivian advised us to carry only the essentials to the next camp and leave the rest here, as we would be coming back to Patar Nauchani during our descent. He also informed that there is shortage of mules as one mule was engaged in bringing down a person suffering from AMS from a higher camp… |
| Inderjit Ji holding a Keeda Jadi |
The climb to Kalu Vinayak was steep – we would gain an altitude of 500 m till Kalu Vinayak and afterwards it was gradual walk to Bhagwabasa. The climb started from the saddle point where the eco-huts were, and we had to go towards the direction opposite to the acclimatization climb the previous day. As soon as the hike began, Inderjit ji and Shreyas resumed their search for keeda jadi on the way.
But soon they had to abandon their search as meadows gave way to rocky terrain. As the trail curved upwards with each step, the air got thinner and my backpack got heavier. Although frequent breaks were warranted, I maintained my steady steps stopping only when I felt giddy due to thin air. “I wish I were a cloud!” I thought as I watched how easily the clouds rose upwards.From the distance, through the fog, I saw the SSB army jawans who met us at Bedni Bugyal returning. I had opportunity to have my pic shot alongside the Everesteer! He would attempt Mt Trishul in August- September this year, and I wished him all the best!
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| Me with the Everesteer |
I heard a distant melodious sound of the Shankh and felt the warmth of energy through my body. The temple of Kalu Vinayak (Lord Ganesh) was near… To my amazement, at the place where most of the people are literally out of breath, it was Shreyas who, along with some local children, was blowing his breath away the Shankhs, thereby motivating the others: that the hardest part of the trek for the day would soon get over! 
After offering prayers at the Lord Ganesha’s temple, I also tried my luck at doing the Shankh-Naad! It was the first time in my life I ever blew a Shankh, and thrill of learning an entirely new activity, that too at over 14000 ft, was unique! |
| This plant protects from Evil Eye |
After expressing the elation of reaching the elevation through the Shankh-Naad, I sat near the temple reminiscing the golden days of my first Himalayan trek – this altitude was the higher than the highest altitude achieved at Sar Pass… We sat here for a while, which was also vital for acclimatising our body.
We crossed-over to the other side of the mountain, and we entered paradise! The whites of the snow and frozen streams crisscrossed with the browns of the mountain and blacks of the rocks.
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| Pic Credit: Arjun Haarith |
The trail was rocky and the water from the melting streams made its way from under the big and small boulders which made up the track. We had our first snow fight of the trek, in which Honey was dominating over the others! We walked past the cave of Bhagwabasa on our right, and the ancient looking dilapidated huts made of rocks (which used to be shelters before the era of tents) on our left. From far, we could see the green eco-huts erected by the forest department, and soon after, we reached our campsite – Bhagwabasa. From here, Roopkund is just 2 kms.
The campsite was complete moon-land. It was a totally out-of-the-world feeling in this cradle of the Himalayas. The terrain was so rocky that even to go to the toilet tents, we had to traverse through the rocks strewn land hopping from one boulder to another. The water, straight out of a frozen stream, was mind-numbingly cold. I could feel the effect of lesser oxygen – I couldn’t think straight, my eyes were droopy and even the simple tasks took lots of energy and effort. But thankfully I didn’t have the headache, which was the first sign of AMS. We had lunch – daal, rice and papad; although low on appetite, warm food again did wonders by providing the much needed energy.
After lunch, we were again ready for the acclimatization walk. This time, we would go about 100 m (altitude-wise) up a razor-sharp ridge. The yellow and blue camps looked like the little flowers of Ali Bugyal. My legs shook due to dizziness due to the height, and the steepness of slopes on both sides inundated me with fear. Thankfully, the ‘walk’ was short and we were told to sit for half-an-hour. It was amazing to witness how the “city-people” like us adjusted to the environment such as this; the environment which if seen by an evil Spirit resembled Hell, but if seen from the eyes of good Spirits looked like Heaven!
Shortly, the clouds parted partially and showed us a glimpse of the mountains nearby. We had a nice view of an adjacent peak (Mt Chandinakot - 5100 m). My eyes followed the barely visible tomorrow’s trail to Roopkund, till it was lost under the distant white carpet of snow.
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| Zoomed in: Notice the bivouacs of the locals on the banks of a stream (a tributary of River Nandakini) |
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| Bivouacs set up on search of Keeda Jadi on the banks of a stream (actually a tributary of River Nandakini) |
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| Pic credits: Rahul Nadendla |
As Manas said afterwards, we had our first official ice-breaking session, among the snowy peaks at Bhagwabasa. Till that time, I didn’t even know names of some of my trek-mates. We sat around on the boulders at the campsite, and played many games like Dumb Charades. The movies given by Honey were really a tongue twister! I discovered that there were some very intelligent actors among us, but there were also some who were worse than me :)! |
| Evening at Bhagwabasa. Notice Mt Chaukhambha visible faintly on the right |
As time flew, the twilight crept in. The clouds once again cleared, and we witnessed a beautiful sunset. The Mt Trisul and Mt Nanda Ghunti (6309 m) looked like treasure troves, a treasure of treasures, bathed in golden sunlight, like the blessings from Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati! Far away, the majestic Mt Chaukhamba (7139 m) was also faintly visible.
Everyone was going oohs and aahs over the out-of-the-world beauty of this place – the red specks of the cottony-clouds covered the skies, the white crests of the mountains far and near formed the backdrop, big and small boulders made-up the terrain on which we stood or just sat mesmerized. We were above the clouds; we were literally on cloud nine! In my opinion, this was the most beautiful campsite of the trek…
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| Mt Trishul |
After the dinner, the hot Gulab Jamun in the bone-chilling weather at a brain-dizzying altitude was really a food for thought for me – a thought about the hospitality and commitment of the crew members of Indiahikes without whom the trek would have been impossible…
At 9.00 pm, as I was preparing to sleep, I suddenly felt the same pangs of acidity in my stomach as I felt at Patar Nauchani, “as if atom bombs are exploding in my stomach”, and hopped my way across the rocky terrain towards toilet tents. “At least I won’t have to go at 3 o’clock in the night”, I thought, to motivate myself. However, as I came to know later, many people had indeed put up a Spirited fight against the chilly winds and a stormy weather in the morning to go to do their rituals.
At night inside the dome-tent, as I was listening to the sounds of the thunder, susurrus of the storm and splash of the showers, I was suddenly reminded of the horrific slip on the snow during my Sar Pass trek in 2012 which nearly cost my life. I began to feel uneasy, chills running down my spine, worried about things yet to come. But then I asked myself: “Why are you afraid just now? The goal has not yet been reached… Tomorrow, as you strive towards the goal, your blood would boil inside you, a new passion would be born. You will cry, you will run and finally you will laugh, inside, in your mind, from your heart – you will triumph, you will be resurrected! So why are you afraid already…?” (- Zindagi Se Darte Ho by Noon Meem Rashed)
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The Queen is stiff with fear. “Something is not right” she feels. Even the new-born baby is crying continuously… But the king is unfazed. Without paying heed to the Priest advice, he keeps his entourage on the move. The boisterous song and dance performances continue despite the last night’s incident.
Soon, the priest realizes that there is no going back – “A terrible fate is upon us…”
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Day 6: Bhagwabasa to Roopkund (4800 m), then to Patar Nauchani
The D-day has arrived! However, when I woke up from the half-sleep, it was still night. It was one of those nights when the mind is numb and the body is indolent. It was so cold that for a moment I thought of trekking to Roopkund with my sleeping bag itself!
During the stormy night, the outer flap of our tent had opened due to strong wind. My backpack, which was between the outer and the inner flap, was exposed to rain. But fortunately the insides were still dry and I quickly took my towel out and soaked the excess water. I had no option but to carry the wet backpack.
As we were to return here to Bhagwabasa after seven hours, I took along only my camera, rain-suit and some other woollens which I thought I might need. There was a cloak-tent to store rest of the things. It took a lot of mental strength just to pack my backpack and clear the tent.
Breakfast was served at 4’o clock. At this time, it was dark, but not pitch-dark. It was as if the Mountains were alive – an aura of light seemed to be emanating from them. There was not much use of the torch. At 4.20 am, we were given crampons to wear over our shoes. It was for the first time in my life that I wore crampons! The thrill of doing something for the first time in life, that too at this altitude, was unique! At 4.30 am, we were assembled in front of the dining tent. We were given an apple, a Frooti, a packet of chocolate biscuits and some dry fruits for our onward journey. After a few motivational words from the camp leader and a jaikara, we finally started!
Bhargav had a strong headache, and he had to head back to Patar Nauchani. Kalaam Singh, our sweep-guide, accompanied him. The headache had nearly forced Bhargav to return from Ghora Lautani itself, but, it was amazing that due to his sheer will-power and endurance, he made it till Bhagwabasa and didn’t call it quits at Ghora Lautani itself. The Good Spirit had once again triumphed!
The 2 km trail to Roopkund from Bhagwabasa was quite exhausting. The terrain was desolate, and there were chances of rain. We formed a line, and were led by the ex-instructor at NIM, who also had an ice-axe to carve out the path from the snow. Through the fog, we made our way carefully on the rocky trail – there was risk of falling due to the loose unbalanced rocks. Walking with the crampons on the rocks also made it very difficult – the crampons seemed to jet inside through the shoes which hurt the soles of my feet.
Gabbar Singh, and the other snow-experts, was constantly motivating us! “Good, good, good”, came out every now and then, and especially when we negotiated tough patches of snow. One of these difficult stretches, from where one really starts to gain altitude rapidly, is Chinarnag (or serpentine stairs). The giant steps over the slippery snow and the exposed rock-face of the mountain were quite intimidating! “Don’t look down, don’t look down!” shouted our escorts, as though echoing the state of my mind! Fortunately, all of us negotiated the steps of Chinarnag without any hiccup. Just after Chinarnag, we had a much needed rest for about 15 minutes. We had covered almost about 1/3rd of the trail to Roopkund. The fog had cleared by then and far beyond, the first rays of the sun tickled Mt Trisul. Far ahead of us, we could see another group of trekkers attempting Roopkund.
Onwards, the trail was mostly on snow. Walking on the snow was scary; just one mistake and one would be lost forever into the deep abyss! We were gaining altitude rapidly and I began to feel a mild headache due to low oxygen. “Now I know how AMS feels like”, I thought!
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| Snowy rest point (Pic Courtesy: Aditi Gandhi) |
After resting for 10 mins, we were on our 3 feet (including the ever important walking stick!). Kartik, however, had given his walking stick to Praveen, and was himself without any stick.
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| Mt Trishul visible slightly |
After a while of walking on snow-trail, we were faced with the task of climbing what seemed to be a wall of snow. Some members of the other group, which were far ahead of us during our first rest-break just after Chinarnag, were still attempting to climb that wall. “C’mon, c’mon! The lake is just beyond!” Hearing that, I felt warmth of a renewed energy and a new passion inside me bore, and I climbed the wall quite fast! “Bad decision”, I thought, for my lungs were now searching fiercely for a scarce commodity – oxygen, and also the lake was not ‘just’ beyond, it was much beyond! I stood there on top of the “wall” for a few minutes to catch my breath, my head now thumping with ache. “How much more?” I asked the ex-instructor of NIM. My eyes followed what he pointed at: not very far beyond, there was another ledge, a smaller one. “Just beyond that…”
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| "Just beyond that ledge..." (Pic Credits: Satish Kumar) |
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“Just beyond that ledge, there seems to be some shelter” says the King of Kannauj, as it suddenly starts hailing. The hailstones, ‘hard as iron’, is accompanied by a sleet and a terrible storm. As the entourage rushes over the ledge, a crystal-blue lake resting at the bottom of a crater greets them. The lake-cavity shields them from the terrible winds, but not from the iron-hard hailstones.
"There is no shelter, THERE IS NO SHELTER…!” For the entourage, this is going to be the last ever sight of their life...
Soon, in about 10 minutes, some 500 people lie lifeless in and around the lake. The blue lake turns murky. The King, near his death, rues is adamance of not listening to the Priest. The boisterousness of the entourage is now engulfed in silence…
History became legend. Legend became myth (-LOTR), now alive only in the local folklores. The horrific sound of silence, disturbed only by the snowy winds, would still continue to plague the Roopkund, Forever…
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This time, it was my heart, and not my head, which was thumping! “ROOPKUND!!” I cried, as I saw the crystal blue lake at the bottom of the crater just over the last ledge! Indeed, it was Roopkund in every sense of word, so pristine and beautiful!
At 7.30 am, we had finally reached the destination, all the hard work of the past 6 days had finally paid off! Though I was laggard most of the times, I was among the earliest ones to reach (and after an hour later, the last one to leave…) I closed my eyes and thanked the Almighty…
The lake is guarded by black mountains on three sides, the highest among them Mt Chandinakot. Further beyond these mountains, over the Junargali Pass, is Shila Samudra, Homekund and the ridge to Mt Trisul.
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| Left: Ex-NIM Instructor, Right: Gabbar Singh |
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| Me at Roopkund Pic credits: Honey Sharma |
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| Pic courtesy: Hiral Vora |
The lake is guarded by black mountains on three sides, the highest among them Mt Chandinakot. Further beyond these mountains, over the Junargali Pass, is Shila Samudra, Homekund and the ridge to Mt Trisul.Everyone was elated on achievement of their goals! They took proof (ie pics!) of their journey to Roopkund! It was a joyous moment for us. Our faces were flushed with immense satisfaction, and our eyes lit-up with joy! For the snow-guides especially, their biggest treasure was our happiness and our achievement of goals. We were but the strangers to them, who may never meet them again. Still they were celebrating our victory and savouring the moment of joy with us; still they saved our lives! These little joys are so precious, the stuff which Life is made of…
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| Achieved! Scaled! Elated!! (Pic courtesy: Hiral Vora) |
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| Pic courtesy: Hiral Vora |
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| Satish (centre) and I along with the technical team, the men who made it possible (Pic courtesy: Satish Kumar) |
Today was a long day – we had to go all the way to Patar Nauchani from Roopkund. Also, it was dangerous to start late for the return journey due to risks of rock falls and difficulty in walking on loose snow. Thus, at around 8.30 am, we were asked to bid goodbye to Roopkund and prepare for the return journey. As people queued up, I turned around to have a last look of the lake. For that moment only, as others moved ahead, I was all alone on the ledge overlooking the lake. No human soul was visible! That means, even though for just a moment, I was all alone at one of the most (in)famous destination in the Himalayas! It was one mesmerizing moment, and I took a while to share my solitude with that of Roopkund… As the silence grew eerie, I hurriedly turned around and joined my group, albeit with a heavy heart.
The Descent (with a capital D) begun! We had to descend down the dreaded snow-path, and this was the scariest part of the trek! Although snow-sliding was the easiest and fastest way to descend on snowy slopes, however, since the snow was lesser, sharp edged rocks jutted out, which prevented snow-sliding.
I was reminded of Gautam Buddha’s words: “You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself”. This was true in every sense! Every now or then someone or the other was slipping on the snow. “Put heels first; and walking-sticks on the mountain side!” our saviours said now and then. One of them, Raju, even did a somersault on the snow just to illustrate how “easy” it is to stop an accidental slide on the snow! But to no avail. Every time I slipped, I thought this is the last moment of my life!
A few meters ahead of me I saw Manas suffer a horrific slip. The white frozen stream on which he slipped seemed to roll towards the infinite depth. Fortunately, one of the snow-expert ran towards him and caught him just in time. “I know how it must have felt” I thought, as I was reminded of my own horrific fall during my previous trek. Later on, Manas said that at that moment, he felt as if he is gone, as if he would be lost forever in the Himalayas…
The entire path before the rest points was a story of slips and saves. Before the last rest point, we had a little snow-slide. Even though it was small, it was quite a fun!
After the last rest point, just as we seemed to believe that Bhagwabasa was near, we were faced with one of the biggest challenges – descending down the serpentine stairs of Chinarnag! “Don’t look down” was not an option since we were descending! All the guides stood near Chinarnag to prevent any untoward happening. Fortunately, due to God’s grace, nothing untoward happened.
We reached Bhagwabasa at around 11.30 am. The sun peeked through the clouds. I sat in the corner of the big dining tent. A sense of relief and achievement slowly dawned upon me. I could not shake off the vivid images of Roopkund and its trail off my head. Little did I knew that back home, those vivid images would flash forever behind the closed eyes…
It took me quite some time to unpack and repack my things. Lunch was served at 12 noon. A fruit-cake was also cut to celebrate our achievement!
After lunch, at around 12.30 pm, we bade goodbye to our life-saviours. I thanked and shook hands with each one of them! We were up again on our tired feet to reach the destination for the day: Patar Nauchani.
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| Bhagwabasa cave on the way back |
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| A local child showing Keeda Jadi |
It now felt quite awkward to walk without the crampons! The snow-patches which we had crossed with ease the day before now looked very scary.
At around 1 pm we reached Kalu Vinayak mountain pass. I paid my homage to Lord Ganesh for our ‘mission successful’ to Roopkund. But I was reminded of what Honey Sharma had said, “Going up is optional, but coming down is mandatory…”
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| One of the pits of Patar Nachauni |
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| Risky search for Keeda Jadi |
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| Meeting with Ganga, a lively local girl |
I was glad to see Bhargav and Kalaam again! Bhargav’s headache had gone as soon as he reached Patar Nachauni earlier today, and Kalaam was as cheerful as ever!
Everyone’s mood was sombre, just like the weather. It was very foggy and damp, and not to mention windy. Hiral (from Mumbai) sat in solitude on the tender grass her walking stick alongside her, looking at nothingness, but deep in thought, most probably reminiscing about the trek. Devanshi slept-off where she rested – near the dining tent, while some others rested inside the tents. Only a few had the tasty evening snacks – chowmein and hakka-noodles.
Meanwhile, Umesh (from Bangalore) discovered that his backpack was mistakenly left behind at Bhagwabasa by the mule. So a local person along with his mule set-off to especially retrieve his backpack. The weather was fickle, but fortunately, they returned safely with the backpack, that too in just 4 hours!
Soon, it started raining. Sleeping bags had been given early, just after the snacks. Tired after a long day’s trek, most of us skipped the dinner and cuddled off to sleep.
It was a thunderous night again, but by now I got used to it. Or maybe it was because of the tiredness that I didn’t care about it. Moreover, the lightening was comforting in a way – it lit up the tent and drove away the feelings of claustrophobia!
Day 6: Patar Nauchani to Lohajung via Bedni Bugyal, Gharoli Patal and Wan (2520 m)
I woke at 6 am. It was still cosy inside the tent, but outside it was still windy and white-out due to fog. The rain still tap-danced on the tent. We were asked to be ready by 7 am, since that day’s trek was the longest… At 7.30 am, we once again formed a queue and were led through the thick fog by Inderjit Ji.
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| Slug"fest" |
We walked carefully on the slippery trail. It was so foggy that I could barely see the person next to me. However, the eternal Himalaya has its own magical way to surprise us mortals – after carefully trudging to Ghora Lautani saddle point, the fog began to clear and after some while, it became sunny!
The Bedni Kund or Vaitarani was visible far below, and a little further, the colourful tents of Bedni Bugyal campsite were also visible. As I walked the trail, I tried to spot the solitary rock which saved Devanshi from falling further down, but somehow I couldn’t find it…
The weather became clear and the air was fresh. The distant mountains seemed greener due to the rains. After a steady walk, we got off the main trail to head towards Bedni campsite.
I looked behind as if I heard a call… I saw a wonderful vista unfolding before my eyes. The clouds were clearing away to allow us the glimpse of the massive massif of Mt Trisul. It was a beauty beyond any words or pictures or paintings… The giant mountain dwarfed the landscape in its foreground. It was as if Mt Trisul was waving us a giant goodbye!I couldn’t get my eyes off the peak, and I was literally walking backwards!
I paid my reverence at a stone-made temple of Nanda Devi near Bedni Kund. Kalaam smiled, indicating that I was last of the lot, and that I should hurry. Soon afterwards, at 9.45 am, I reached the Bedni campsite.
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| Village pradhan of Kulling interacting with us |
After a refreshing little break at Bedni campsite, at 10.15 am, we began the steepest of all Descents! I calculate that we descended some 1200 meters from Bedni Bugyal to Neel Ganga River in just 2.5 hours.
As I saw the trail curving into a steep slope marking the beginning of the Descent, I turned around to have a last look of His Majesty Mt Trisul. This was the last ever glimpse of Mt Trisul during this sojourn to the Himalayas…
A temple dedicated to Lord Kartikeyan marked the end of the bugyals and beginning of the tree-line. Another trail diverged from here to the vast expanse of Ali Bugyal, which was also visible from here.
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| Himalayan Lammergeier |
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| Ali Bugyal on the distant mountain |
When, all of a sudden, my phone rang, I was jolted into reality that the trek was going to end shortly – the phone received signal after 4 days; the last signal was that in Didina.
Trekkers from another group also joined the Descent and we played Antakshari as we slid through the slopes. After 1.5 hours of slipping and sliding along with singing, we reached Gharoli Patal, a lonely campsite in the middle of the forest. Earlier, this used to be a halting place for night, but now, it was merely a resting place. We rested here for 15 minutes. My knees were already tired and my toes were screaming with pain. But still a 3 hour trek to Wan village was to be made.
The gurgling of the River was faintly audible. Or maybe it was just the gusts of the wind, since the River was still 1 hour of Descent away. It was enjoyable walking in company with Hiral and Rahul Nadendla (from Pune) before, and then with the team from Bangalore (Ambika, Kusuma, Arjun, Bhargav, Jyothi Ganesh, Karthik and Umesh). Arjun even spotted a Himalayan bird (white collared blackbird) and took its pic before it flew away. “Life is like that bird”, I thought, “live it before it flies away…”
The gurgling of the river seemed louder. As I was about to reach the River, I saw a very old local woman slowly making her way up the steep trail. “Bedni tak jaana hai beta (I have to go till Bedni, son…)” she said, as she lightly held onto my arm. It was about 12.30 pm, and it was easily a 5 hr steep hike to Bedni Bugyal. I still wonder whether she was able to reach her intended destination…
The serene Neel Ganga River’s rumbling water greeted us again! Its sound had a calming effect on my soul. Though I was tired, I quickly removed my shoes and socks and dipped my blister-clad toes into the icy water of the River. We had the packed lunch of Aloo- Puri (which was given at Patar Nauchani) on the banks of the River.
I watched the flow of water which would eventually join the Ganges. I watched my trek-mates frolicking, their faces written with joy all over. I watched the greenery of the forest, felt the warmth of the sun and coolness of water. I let my mind wander to the Roopkund and back again… I didn’t realize how time flew past…
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| Bedni Bugyal visible at the top of the adjacent mountain |
It was still 1.5 hour trek to Wan village. Just after crossing a bridge over the River, a steep climb to Rankadhaar (a mountain pass to Wan) began. We could see the place where we had come from during past 4 hours, ie, Bedni Bugyal, which was visible at the top of the adjacent mountain.
It was only half-hour climb to Rankadhaar, but at the end of it we were wanting for more, since the steep climb was more comfortable than the dreaded Descent! A strong scorching sun made the Descent afterwards more difficult. I was going weak on my knees; my toes could take no more.
Slowly but surely, we were coming back to civilization. Small village kids greeted us and asked for sweets! As we went past the stone-made houses and huge ancient-looking deodar trees, we had the first glimpse of the tar – “Wow, road!” I exclaimed.The trek, the glorious and beautiful one, had finally come to an end…
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| Pic Credits: Honey Sharma |
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| An unripe apple |
Praveen, Kalaam and I gorged on omelettes while we waited for Maxx cabs that would take us to Lohajung. Soon, the cabs came; it was a nice feeling to sit on a proper cushiony seat after a long time! I still clutched my wooden walking stick, as if it contained a part of the Spirit of Roopkund… As the cab zoomed past the curvy roads and gorgeous gorges, the sound of silence grew louder, as if we had left our hearts behind… I could sense that the sporadic chatter among the Mumbai group was just to distract oneself from the melancholic nostalgia… |
| Left: Kulling, Centre: Didina |
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| Certificates! (Pic courtesy: Hiral Vora) |
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| Celebration time! (Pic courtesy: Hiral Vora) |
Later that night, the sky lit up with a zillion stars. The last time we saw such starry night was at Didina village. Arjun, Bhargav and I tried to capture the night through our lenses! It was indeed a starry end to our expedition!
Day 7: From Lohajung to Home
At 7 am, the cabs were ready to leave, and we found ourselves hurriedly packing our things lest we miss our onward train. With a heavy heart, I bade goodbye to Honey Sharma, Inderjit ji and the village of Lohajung.
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| Morning at Lohajung. Mt. Nanda Ghunti waving us goodbye! |
The Bangalore team had already left, as they planned to go to Rishikesh via Karnaprayag and attend the Ganga Aarti. The rest of us would go to Kathgodam. We bade each other goodbye, with promise to meet again. The five of us – Anurag, Bhagirath, Bhawani, Praveen and I boarded the same Maxx cab on which we had come a week earlier, driven by the driver Bishan ji.
Bishan ji is a stout, middle-aged man, with a penchant for romantic Bollywood songs of the ‘90s. Throughout the journey, I was rankled by these songs, not realizing that at the end, I would miss these songs, and would crazily search for them on the internet!
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| The Baijnath temple complex |
In the cab, Praveen showed me the mother of all blisters which had forced him to slow down during the Descent – one of his toe-thumb was so swollen that it looked like a ripe tomato… his toe-nail had broken into pieces and pierced through the skin underneath. At the present, he had had a little surgery, and now he was fine.
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| Bhawani and Bhagirath |
At around 6.30 pm, we reached Kathgodam, just in time to have the dinner and then board the 8.40 pm Ranikhet Express. Bishan ji didn’t talk much in the last hour – it must be tough to part with people, who grow so close in such a short time! Someone has rightly said that the journey itself is not special; it’s the people who make it special!
I had come alone in the train to Kathgodam; but a week later, I did not return alone. I still clutched my walking stick, the only tangible reminiscent of the trek.
The dream, which began a long time back, is now fulfilled. Still, my heart weighs a ton. My mind still wanders somewhere in the high Himalayas among the whispering woods, beautiful bugyals, tough terrain and lovely lakes… My Spirit still searches for Keeda Jadi, makes merry with the ebullient locals, trudges carefully on the slippery slopes and searches for the legendary skeletons of Roopkund. Only my physical body has travelled back to Delhi, everything else would remain at Roopkund, Forever!
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| Life is like that bird, live it before it flies away |
Google Maps:
<<< Part 1: The Spirit of the Himalayas
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Blogs from other trekkers in my batch:
> Arjun Haarith: Read his blog for absolutely mesmerizing photographs and great information for trekkers! He has released the Roopkund blog in four parts.
Link: http://arjunhaarith.blogspot.in/
Sources:
> Books:
-Deep in the Himalayas, pages: 61-63
-The Himalayas Playground of the Gods - Trekking, Climbing and Adventures, page 71
> Web:
-http://www.wondermondo.com/Countries/As/India/Uttarakhand/Roopkund.htm
-http://www.roopkund.com
-https://www.facebook.com/AmazingYatra/posts/436938693021907
-http://www.solobackpacker.com
-http://www.nandarajjat.u-sac.in
> Articles:
-http://archive.deccanherald.com/Deccanherald/oct302004/n12.as
Well written :) kudos
ReplyDeleteAmazing blog with beautiful pictures. The story and every instances you have written is wonderful.
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