Sunday, 26 September 2021

The Lama House


This one has been a year in writing. Nestled amidst apple orchards, deodars and lush green meadows, lies a quiet haven called the Lama House. Home to Pavane Mann, a mountaineer, adventurer and storyteller, her warm hospitality and intrepid spirit made me feel right at home. A tastefully done up house, full of curios, family photographs and elegant upholstery took me back in time. We spent many evenings sharing travel stories with hot toddy by the fireplace in one of the many cosy rooms.  Karma, a handsome, loving, black Bhutiya dog, warmed his way into my heart like no other. Perhaps, that is why I stayed and worked out of here for two months last autumn.

I woke up each morning to the melodious voice of the blue whistling thrush as sunshine filtered through the French windows offering a panoramic view of the lush green mountains and snowy peaks, as the wind carried the sweet fragrance of the purple hydrangeas outside my window. I watched Sher Singh, the gardener, care for the beautiful garden full of bright-coloured flowers and apple trees, come rain or shine. My favourites are the light pink roses – I enjoyed many afternoons by their side.



Room with a view

   
Karma and me

              
                                             The library - a treasure trove of mountain literature


The staff, Rakesh, Pooran, Sher Singh, and Kanta treated me like family. Rakesh, the caretaker and one of the cooks, treated me to waffles, roast chicken, apple crumble, trout amongst many other delicious items, during my stay. Karma and I went on many-a-walks together, up the hill to a lovely meadow overlooking Old Manali and the Manalsu River, towards Lamadugh or a nearby village. These are some of the reasons that I am back here again. And I could not be happier!

I have been waking up to the song of the blue whistling thrush. Outside my window, I watch a pair of red-billed blue-magpies peck away at a few of the leftover apples on the tree. On cloudy days, there is a riot of colour in the air, thanks to a flock of crimson and yellow-bellied sunbirds. Karma meets me with utmost enthusiasm each morning in the hope that I would take him for a walk. His light-brown eyes look into mine for cues. He is most disappointed when I pick up my laptop for work instead. He does have his way eventually.

Hot toddy has been replaced by gin this time round. Evenings spent with Pavane and her friends are always interesting. Her fascinating stories and experiences continue to inspire me.  Pooran, one of the cooks, has been spoiling me with homemade delicacies. On clear nights, I gaze at the millions of stars from the balcony. I doze off listening to the gentle sound of the flowing river. It feels like home. Every time I am here, it becomes difficult to leave.

Some places touch your heart. And then, there are those rare few that move your soul.




Sunday, 22 August 2021

To The Top

 

Yet to bloom wild lilies sprinkled everywhere

I was on a weeklong vacation in Tirthan valley, a remote fishing hamlet located in the northern, hilly state of Himachal Pradesh. Cutaway from the rest of the world, it seemed like the perfect place to unwind and do some climbing. My brother, Aman, and I booked a quaint B&B by the river set in a deep canyon. After learning about the nearby Crystal Mines & Lambri Top (3600 m) trek, we were keen to explore the surrounding area. While I had been on many treks before, I had not climbed up a known mountaintop in a while. This seemed like a great opportunity to do so. However, due to inclement weather, we were advised against venturing there due to heavy snow lodged at the top. Undeterred, we decided to find someone who would agree to take us there. Luckily, one of my contacts led us to the right person. Pratap, an experienced mountaineer and the head of a local trekking cooperative, would take us to Lambri Top the next day.  Generally, a 3-day trek, we planned to attempt it in one day.

I checked the weather forecast for the next day. It seemed to be clear; a perfect day for hiking. The next morning, we woke up to a glorious, spring day. Sweet birdsong, gentle breeze, and light sunshine peeked into the gorge. We were lucky to get a good weather window. We met Pratap who had brought along a colleague to chalk out an alternate trekking route. He was unable to find crampons anywhere in the tiny village so we decided to carry on and try our luck.

The starting point of the trek was located 20 kms away from the village of Jamala, the endpoint of the Sarchi road. We drove on a smooth, narrow road snaking up through a deep mountainous valley, on the fringe of the Great Himalayan National Park (GHNP). A UNESCO world heritage site, the park spread over 754km²  is known for its rich biodiversity including medicinal plants and several threatened species, and is characterized by high alpine peaks, alpine meadows, and riverine forests. Lush green, picturesque surroundings, outlined by craggy white peaks as far as the eye could see. It felt like I was in the lap of the Himalayas, being gently caressed by the gentle breeze.

As we gained altitude, a fabulous view of the magnificent, snow-clad peaks came into view. I gasped at the natural beauty surrounding us and tried to capture it on camera. Thick deciduous forests, colourful houses peppered along the mountainside, and apple orchards covered with white plastic sheets to protect them from unseasonal hail and snow. The white sheets gave the illusion of snow from a distance. Global warming seemed to be increasingly prominent.

A first glimpse of the snowy climb

                                                 

It took us roughly an hour to reach our starting point. We could see a white Lambri Top in the distance. As we could only spot a small section of the peak from the road, it was hard to tell how much of the mountain was covered in snow. We walked past a handful of traditional Himachali homes in the tiny settlement of Jamala. Curious village folk peeped out of their homes to look at us, while the cattle and sheep grazed leisurely in the early morning sun. A young girl asked us where we were going. She told me that I would not be able to make it. I smiled and told her that she would be surprised. There were a handful of homes and a couple of guesthouses under construction. The closest market was in the nearby village of Sarchi.

As we exited the village, a verdant green meadow opened up in front of us. Our guide, Pratap pointed at the view behind us. I turned around to find a breath-taking view of the Western Himalayas as the first light tinted the snow-clad peaks. We walked on a narrow trail through thick deodar and pine forest. The trees were more than a hundred feet tall and would have witnessed many adventurers like us across centuries. Its needlelike leaves swayed gently in the light breeze as if to stir up a conversation with us. The ground was still moist with dew. I breathed in the damp, crisp air diffused with the scent of pine. My trekking poles helped me maintain a steady pace and keep my balance while walking over slippery pine needles and loose stones that covered the thin mountain path. The melodious song of the oriental white eye and blue whistling thrush kept us enthralled.

Thousands of yet to blossom wild lilies were sprinkled all over the hillside. I imagined what a beautiful sight it would be to walk amongst them in full bloom. Pratap asked us to fill our water bottles at a streamlet flowing down from the melting snowcaps over boulders covered with moss. ‘This is the purest water you can ever drink. It will rejuvenate your senses and clear any ailments’, he said. As we crossed over a makeshift wooden bridge onto the adjoining mountain, the real climb began.

It seemed that the entire hillside had been ravaged by a terrible storm. We climbed over uprooted tree tops blocking the path. The steep gradient coupled with scree, leaves, and a barely-there path slowed us down. We were the only ones on the trail. At 2800 m, we came across chunks of muddy ice from time to time. I looked up at the tree-lined blue sky and listened to the whispers of the rustling leaves under my feet. Three hours into the trek, we stopped for a refreshment break. Pratap, also an avid birder, told us about the various birds surrounding us based on their unique call. As we started to make our way again, a pair of shrieking Himalayan monals darted across the sky. Their colourful greenish-blue foliage glinted in the sunshine.

We came across our first stretch of soft snow. Excitedly, I stepped forward, only for one of my legs to get stuck knee-deep in it. I laughed as both guides pulled me out. Aman seemed worried. He was not wearing waterproof shoes unlike me and was skeptical about navigating a near 400 m vertical incline in deep snow. He kept suggesting that we turn around due to a bad experience in the past, but I was keen to go all the way. I reassured him that we were in good hands. While I told him that we could always turn around later, if required, I was determined to reach the top. When I gave Aman the option to wait it out, he did not want to leave me alone.

A near 400 mtr vertical climb

Soon, we neared the sharp ascent and looked up. A solitary tree stood tall near the summit. As the sun had been out for a few hours, the ice had melted in some sections making it easier for us to get a grip on soft snow. It seemed to be about 4 - 5 feet deep at places. As our guides were familiar with this route, they were confident of climbing without much difficulty. Pratap advised against walking close to rocks as there was no way to tell how deep the crevice would be in case of a fall. We walked in a zig-zag fashion. I dug my boots into the snow to get a good grip. It was difficult to walk more than ten steps at a stretch. I turned around to witness an even better view of the snow-clad Himalayas. The camera could not capture the beauty my eyes could see. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest. Other than that, the calming sound of silence. A solitary raven glided in the azure skies above us. We were all tired but happy.

We started to make our way again. Each step felt reflective. We were so close to the mountaintop. I could hardly contain my excitement. We came across a dark, moistened rock wall on which water trickled off icy crystals into a small pool. I snapped off one of the ice crystals and pretended to eat it for a photograph. We filled our bottles again and kept climbing. Aman seemed anxious but did not turn back. It took us about an hour to reach the halfway point. I rested on a rock while gazing at the scenic views and the precipitous slope we had just traversed. A curious marmot came out to see what the commotion was about. Satisfied, it returned to its hiding place. ‘Another 40 - 50 minutes’, Pratap announced. I leaped forward with excitement. It took an immense amount of effort to trudge my way up.

Almost there

                                       

The virgin snow glinted under the afternoon sun. My energy levels were depleting but my determination to get there was at its peak. I could not walk more than five steps at a time before stopping for a break. I took a deep breath as my heart thumped in my chest. ‘Almost there,’ the guides told us. I was brimming with joy. We moved slowly and soon, we were there. On top of the world.

 

Sweeping views of GHNP

An extraordinary view of the entire Great Himalayan National Park and the extensive Himalayan range - all the way from the Dhauladhars to Kinnaur left us spellbound. Majestic snowy peaks, undulating mountain valleys, luscious green forests and sapphire blue skies. On the other side of the valley, we had a lovely view of Jalori Pass amidst thick forest and green meadows bespeckled with snow.

The sweet melody of a pair of alpine choughs was music to the ears. It reminded me of my time on the Everest trail where they often gave me company on solitary walks. At a short distance, we noticed a small shrine made of stones - a temple for a local deity. I bowed my head in prayer and gratitude.



Sunday, 14 February 2021

Like The Flowing River

 


We embarked on a mini-adventure yesterday, about an hour’s drive from Chandigarh. As a bird enthusiast, I was keen to explore Chakki Mod, a Birder’s Paradise, in the Solan district of Himachal Pradesh. I wanted to hike upstream along the Kaushalya River to explore the area and perhaps, witness some of the unique birds that the area is famous for. Two of my friends tagged along for the excursion.

We drove from Chandigarh towards Zirakpur and then got onto the Chandigarh-Shimla highway. I turned on Google maps shortly after passing Timber Trail, to not miss the Bhojnagar turn. We drove downhill on a fairly empty road and parked the car close to the second bridge. We made our way down to the river bed while listening to the sound of the gentle, flowing water and chirping birds surrounding us. The fog had finally lifted, allowing the winter sunshine to filter through. We crossed the stream while carefully balancing ourselves on rocks.






I could hear the sound of a woodpecker hammering into a tree. I quickly took out my binoculars and spotted the bird, much to my delight. We carried on forward on the dry part of the river bed, observing many other birds around us. My friends relied on my limited knowledge to learn about them. Curious villagers grazing their livestock stared at us, probably wondering what we were doing there. We walked slowly, taking in the valley views. I stopped often to observe the ebb and flow of the river.

We came across deities and other religious items washed ashore.  I wondered about the distance people’s prayers travel. All of us walked in quiet contemplation through shrubs, wide cracks in the dry sand, and sections of sandy beaches at some places. I was very excited to finally see a white-crested laughingthrush, an otherworldly beauty. We reached a large, natural pool with water falling over massive rocks into it. It seemed like the perfect place to take a break. We dipped our feet in the cold water while munching on delicious sandwiches and drinking gin.

Stories, laughter, and Chopin floated through the air. We were in the moment – like the flowing river.