The best of the journeys are the ones that are least planned. This
strikes me as the mini bus we are travelling in winds through the snaky and
precipitous road inside Aru National park. The drive brings back the memories of the fear I
felt when I first journeyed in a recklessly driven and rickety Garhwal Mandal
Vikas Nigam bus along the treacherous, hilly stretches of Uttarakhand. But what
breath-taking surroundings!
Aru, the base camp of the trek, looks spectacularly beautiful and serene
in the fading evening light. The orange-coloured tents are pitched in a glen,
away from a small hamlet. We are a group of twenty three, mainly from
Bengaluru, Pune and Delhi. Our trek leader is a passionate, bearded young man,
Ankit, who is in love with the mountains. The trekkers exchange pleasantries,
strike up conversations with each other and when darkness finally envelopes all by 8.30 pm, slip into the tents.
The next morning, sky is clear and
mood upbeat as we begin the trek. A slushy climb along a village track. Then we enter the deodar forests and occasional pines. A comfortable walk through the
conifers. Most of us have offloaded our rucksacks and carry a light backpack.
We walk in and out of the forests and the slopes are gentle. Lunch break is
near a stream. Water is clear and clean and none of us have any hesitation in
quenching our thirst.
Our campsite in Lidderwat is in a large
grassland. There is a government department building nearby which looks like a
forest guest house. Two more groups are camping a hundred metre away from us.
Lidder river gurgles downhill. We gorge on hot bread pakodas. A cricket match
is on in the backyard of our tents. A
lone woman trekker from Europe sits atop a rock and watches the proceedings
with interest and occasional smiles. She is trekking alone to Kalhoi glacier
which is the source of Lidder river. During an evening walk, I come
across another lone Western trekker who is sitting at the mouth of his small
tent, painting the vista in front of him. He doesn’t notice me or doesn’t care.
I take a quick peek at the small canvas and get a glimpse of trees and snow
peaks.
The next morning is bright at five and
damp and dull at six. Ankit takes the tough call of going ahead with the trek
hoping that the weather would improve. It doesn’t and we walk in the constant
drizzle. Ponchos and raincoats are out. The climb is a bit tedious today and
there are not many trees now. A few trekkers are tired but march on bravely.
The toughest part is crossing the rivers. It is not dangerous but the water
level is slowly rising. The chill freezes the bones and the force almost sweeps
us off. After wading through rivers and streams four times, the sole of my right
shoe comes off. Nagendra lends his gaiters to me and it makes a good job of
holding the sole in its place. By noon, many are exhausted and all are hungry
and we invade a small Gurjar house on the way. There are several Gurjar habitations
dotting the terrain. What a lovely people. Men are tall and handsome, women are
exceptionally beautiful and children are angelic. The ladies serve us Kahva tea
and we polish off our packed lunch savouring the warmth of the house and the hospitality.
A Gurjar woman shows an abscess on her shin and pleads for medicine. A child
has a gash on her leg. A man asks for stomach-ache reliever. It is a tough life
up here in the mountains. What in case of an emergency?
Rain relents briefly when we reach Shekwas, our camp site. Draught horses, with their fore legs tied together lazily graze in
the meadows. The landscape is bewitchingly beautiful and dazzling blue Aconitum flowers are everywhere. There
are many more too, of different hues. White, blood red, yellow and blue.
Cloudy skies clear by 7.30 the next morning to a collective sigh of
relief. A stream hugs the trek path throughout our walk, giving us the company
of its murmur. It is a moderate climb of five kilo metres and the weather gets
better as the day progresses. Butterflies bask on flowers and a skink briefly mirrors
sunlight on a rock. What a panorama! Green undulating grasslands interspersed
with clear brooks. Mountains all around. Ground carpeted with blossoms of
indescribable beauty. Now I know what Amir Khusro must have felt when he
recited;
“Agar firdaus bar ru-ye zamin ast,
Hamin ast o hamin ast o hamin ast "
"If there is a paradise on earth,
It is this, it is this, it is this”.
It feels wonderful to walk slowly during
a trek and more so if you walk alone. You don’t need words. There is so much to
see, so much to appreciate, so much to soak in. As Ankit says, trek is about
the walk and not about reaching the campsite quickly. We are at Tarsar lake
before lunch time. All of us try our hands in pitching the tents and it is
easier than imagined. The tranquil lake beckons. The rocks and boulders strewn
around become the royal seats. The blue waters are crystal clear. This and
Marsar are holy lakes for the Kashmiris. No one is supposed to touch the
waters. Stone throwing and polluting in any form is prohibited. Our Kashmiri
guide, the ever-affable Bilal warns of terrible weather in the event of
sacrilege.
As I walk in the vicinity, I notice a
trekker from another small group of youngsters, spit into the lake. I am
aghast. So are my trek-mates. I confront him and sparks fly. The literate
hooligan feigns ignorance and apologises. Later, the same group throws stones
into the lake, plays loud music and dances at the banks. This time, I keep my
counsel.
On the fourth day, we cross the
Tarsar peak in the morning. This is the highest point of our trek, at around
13,400 feet. All rejoice at the successful scaling. After the ascent, the steep
downhill walk is tricky. And then it is rolling grasslands all the way till we
reach Sundarsar lake. The campsite is next to the waters. The weather is windy
and chilly. Anup has pitched and reserved a ‘lake view’ tent for me and sanjeev.
After lunch we head towards Marsar lake, a small distance and a sharp climb away.
The blooms are everywhere. Delicate, creamish Saxifraga flowers with red and yellow centre cloth the lakeside
rocks in all their splendour. We walk past the boulders, streams and more
flower beds and begin the ascent. The hill which looked innocuous from far
seems intimidating now. Once atop, it is a leisurely stroll of twenty minutes
to the viewpoint. Marsar is mesmerizing and we enjoy the view from the hill overlooking
the lake. The lake is supposed to be almond shaped but I am not so sure as one
side is a straight line. The skies continue to disappoint the shutterbugs and
clouds clear only in bits and pieces revealing a reluctant blue underneath.
Later in the evening, a game of cards in the dining hall
followed by checking of blood pressure and blood oxygen level by Ankit. Then
the much awaited, lip-smackingly delicious food cooked by Kushal. We wonder how
this man manages to dish out gajar ka halwa, custard and cake at 13,000 feet!
In the night, I try my hand at sky
photography, aided ably by Kishan. Not a bad beginning but results are not entirely satisfaying. The chill in the air brings out gloves and thermals and I
snuggle cosily into the sleeping bag.
Sonmasti is our last camp and the
downhill walk is easy and relaxed. Again we reach early and have lots of time
to explore the area. Some people decide to take a dip in the cold and sparkling waters of the rivulet nearby. Later in the evening I
spot several Himalayan mormots on the hillside. They look healthy and alert. They
let out a shockingly shrill alarm call on spotting me and scurry towards their
burrows. Sonmasti waterfall is not huge but charming.
The last day of the trek is a tiring,
arduous downhill trudge of twelve kilo metres in searing sun. But the sights
are rewarding. Again a wide array of stunning flowers, high, narrow waterfalls
in the distance, bewildering variety of mushrooms. Sumbul is welcomed with a
sigh of relief and vehicles are waiting to take us to Srinagar.
This has been one of the best weeks
of my life. No internet, no phone, no TV and of course, no office. Absolute
company of nature and new friends. Hills, brooks, lakes and above all, flowers
of paradise. I can’t wait to get back to the hills again.
(Here is the link to some pictures)
