by GAURAV PUNJ
On and on we went till we saw a crescent-shaped mountain wall up front, the kind of image we had of a pass in our mind, and high-fived each other. We struggled for almost half an hour to cover the short distance to the ‘pass’, the altitude was close to 5000m, but we didn’t mind as it was ‘the last climb’ and from there it was all downhill. Just before we reached the wall we saw another one looming in front, higher than this one. So, it was not the pass after all; the pass was up ahead. ‘Let’s keep walking and finish it off,’ I channelized my frustration into action, as the self-help books suggest. Big help it does. In five minutes I was pooped and was dragging myself, not even looking up at the new ‘pass’. Another twenty minutes and no prize for guessing what happened. Yes, a new ‘pass’ up ahead. It would have been a joke had it not been for the absolutely stunning terrain we were walking through. It passed over patches of hardened snow, with more snow all around; some of it had melted and formed small ponds that reflected the snow peaks. Even if we didn’t acknowledge it at that instant, such a scene is what makes trekking the unquestioned king of any travel mode in the Himalaya. One can justify any hardship for just one such glimpse; and just think, on a trek you are constantly walking through such scenes.
Okay, okay, no digressing, because we are approaching the pass and also the end of this story. After the second dhokha, we just sat there, forgot our obsession with crossing the pass as early as possible, opened our lunch boxes, took some photos and marvelled at the perfect weather we’d had since the fog. As we were on our second parantha we heard the familiar bell of our donkeys, signalling the arrival of our team. They hadn’t even packed up some time back, and now they had caught up with us? How fast do they walk? Trust me, best not to think about it if you want to feel good about your own Atlas-like efforts. ‘Very good, you are almost at the top,’ Gatuk tried playing the guide role. ‘Ya, that’s great. We have been very close for a very long time,’ we answered, disgruntled. But I must admit, the arrival of our team was just the tonic we needed and in their company we walked and this time without any apparent effort, we were on top of the actual pass. Stunned by our first glimpse of the Pin valley, Spiti. Photo on page viii in the inserts; please take a look before reading on. The guides did a quick puja at the pass, added a string of prayer flags to the many already present, had their meal, in which we also joined, and within ten minutes were ready to leave. Just the contrasting views from the pass as we cross from Kinnaur to Spiti tell you about these two places better than any book ever can. In the simplest of terms, we crossed from a million shades of green to a million shades of brown.
After a tricky climb down over a glacier for about 200m, it was a long descent over rocky moraine almost all the way down to the campsite, accompanied by the roaring and black Pin river. Baldar, at about 4000m, is a quiet, green patch with, as usual, a small stream passing through. We however saw all that the next morning. That evening, after walking for twelve hours straight, we asked Tshering to cook dinner for us straightaway, finished it by 6 p.m. and were in our tent and inside the sleeping bag by 6:30 p.m. We felt brave and safe, a wonderful feeling, another ‘trek only’ feature.
Now, here is the thing. It was almost eleven hours ago that we had seen that man. The man because of whom we’d found the trail. He was just 20m ahead of us, and not only hadn’t we seen him later, we hadn’t even thought about him till Rujuta said, ‘Arre, but where is that man?’ ‘Haan yaar, I totally forgot about him. But he was only a bit ahead of us, how come we never saw him? We could see miles ahead almost throughout, especially from the top.’ ‘I know, even if he is a fast walker, he couldn’t have walked that fast. There must be another trail I guess.’ ‘No, this is the only trail in this region. He had to be walking on this trail only. In fact this is the only campsite he could have camped at, but he isn’t here.’
We were sitting up now, rewinding the day in our mind. ‘And how come he was alone? You have to have a guide on this trek, right?’ ‘Yup, guide and porter and a donkey at least, even for the most experienced trekker.’ ‘So where is his team? Maybe ahead of him, but how come we didn’t see them on such a clear day? We could see the trail for almost 10 km from the top.’ ‘I hope he has not gotten into some kind of an accident or lost the path. That’s the only explanation I can think of. He looked so old and experienced.’ ‘What old, he was so young.’ ‘What are you talking about? He was an old guy, with a white beard and a walking stick. He was wearing a hat too.’ Rujuta looked at me with her ‘Don’t give me bullshit’ look. ‘I’m not kidding. He was wearing a round hat.’ ‘GP, he was a young man with a backpack. Tell me you are kidding.’ ‘I swear, I am not.’ We unzipped our sleeping bag, got out of the tent and rushed to the kitchen tent. Between quick gasps we related our story to our guys. They listened patiently, and then Gatuk told us matter-of-factly, ‘Aapne bhoot dekha, sir.’ (‘You saw a ghost.’)
Epilogue
In May of 2008 I was at a nice, quiet retreat in the Kumaun hills with one of my first group trips at CWH. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found out that Mr Harish Kapadia, the mountain man, was also there for a break. Over the next two to three days we got to interact with him a lot and at all times we pestered him for stories, particularly in the evenings when everyone sat around a small bonfire. He obliged by sharing his experiences and plenty of funny stories (he even gave a small talk on the Himalaya for our group). But people were specifically interested in ghost stories as that’s the perception everyone had of the mountains.
He told us, however, that in his almost fifty years of travels in the Himalaya, from the remotest of valleys to the highest of peaks to the strangest villages, he has never ever been troubled by or experienced anything that is scary. ‘The Himalaya is dev bhoomi, land of gods, so this is, in fact, the safest place you can be. But in climbing circles we use a term – the “friendly spirit phenomenon”, to explain some of the unexplainable.’ According to him, the Himalaya abounds with stories where a shepherd, a villager, a child, happens to meet you when you are in some kind of trouble – lost your path, or need shelter from a storm – and guides you to the right path or shelter. Only later, when you are safe and feeling secure, will you try to rationalize the situation and think of that person, where he came from, where he went, how come he/she disappeared just like that. The friendly spirit.
***
Raju, the Guide
Short mein bole toh, the Pin-Bhabha trek is the best of the Himalaya compressed over four days.
More reading:
Some easily-available books and guides I have managed to read and gained from:
Title
Category
Author
Remarks
Exploring Kinnaur and Spiti (2002)
Travel and exploration
Deepak Sanan and Dhanu Swadi
The bible for this region. Few books can surpass the detail and accuracy of this one from the IAS couple.
Spiti: Adventures in the Trans-Himalaya (1999)
Climbing and exploration
Harish Kapadia
Some of the most daring explorations and climbs in Spiti.
Himalayan Buddhism – Past and Present (1993)
History of the area’s religion
D.C. Ahir
If you want to read just one book about the history of Buddhism in Spiti and Ladakh, this is the one.
What else to do in Spiti
Trekking – You must go to Spiti and try your best to do so by trekking, either from Kinnaur (easiest) or from Kulu (Pin-Parvati) or even Ladakh (Parang La), although they are tough treks. Inside Spiti also you can trek from one
village to another on high ridges, but they are not as dramatic as the ones where you cross a pass.
Car/bike riders – It’s the next Ladakh in the making as far as the pull for bikers and self-drive cars is concerned. Don’t make the same mistake of not understanding the effects of altitude (come via Kinnaur, leave via Rohtang Pass) and also don’t just pass through Spiti as if you only came to see the road. Stay in a couple of villages and soak it in.
Homestays – Spiti Ecosphere runs homestays in quite a few Spitian villages and, as usual, they offer the most authentic experience of the life of the people, their food and their smiles.
Monasteries – Anyone with any interest in Tibetan Buddhism can spend months in Spiti exploring its monasteries, some large some small, but all with a wealth of information. All four sub-sects of Tibetan Buddhism are represented in this small valley and that is something no other place can match. Also, if you are hardcore and visit in winter, you will get to see Buzhens, the wandering lamas unique to Pin valley, who go from one village to another enacting the scriptures through easy-to-understand street plays.
Point to be noted
Kaza, the sub-divisional headquarters and also the capital of Spiti, is the only town in Spiti and also one of the few settlements along the river rather than high above it. My advice is to just pass through it, at the most buy essentials you may need from its markets, but don’t stay there. If you want to stay somewhere other than a homestay, Tabo, with its Leh-like quirky nature, and also one of the oldest monasteries in Spiti, is a much better choice.
Local service providers
Spiti Ecosphere runs a wide network of homestays in some of the most beautiful and accessible Spitian villages. They also help locals market and sell their produce and handicrafts. www.spitiecosphere.com.
If trekking, the best way is to hire local guides who will then arrange the equipment and staff. For Pin-Bhabha Pass, you should look for guides from Mudh village. Gatuk now teaches ‘computers’ in the primary school and doesn’t have time to trek, but you can meet him when you are in Mudh.
For transportation, Sanjay Sharma, based in Shimla, is a reliable contact. 9816021966.
***
Reality check
Kruti Saraiya
Teaches graphic design at Srishti, Bangalore
(I did the Pin-Bhabha Pass again in 2011 and Kruti was part of the group. Here’s her take on the trek in her words and drawings.)
So when I decided to go on this trip with CWH, I had no clue what to expect, but I had been told by Rujuta that this trip is ‘life changing’. While packing I almost had second thoughts about carrying a sketchbook and pens to a ‘trek’, but I thought if nothing else I might want to keep a diary about my life-changing experience; also that if the group was boring, sketching would be my saviour. In reality the exact opposite happened, the group was so entertaining with so many stories to document that page after page of ideas were just waiting to be sketched out. So these are not just pretty drawings – this is a full account of the trip with its drama, humour, stress, fatigue, gossip and of course the magnificent Himalaya.
Story 5
Rupin Supin – the Descendants
of the Kauravas
Hand-drawn maps for representation purpose only. Not to scale.
The setting
West of the Yamuna lies Tons, its tributary. Further up lie the Rupin and Supin, the Tons’ tributaries. It is this region that has somehow fallen off the map – geographic and cultural. With the Char Dhams being the spiritual and economical hubs of Garhwal, the geographical isolation of this region, called Jaunsar-Bawar, is understandable. Cultural isolation, however, requires a dive into history – the mythological one that is.
‘They’ say it is those who win the war who write the history. The Bawaris would agree. For this is the land where Duryodhana and Karna have always been worshiped, where the natives claim to be descendants of the Kauravas, where, till date, local festivals celebrate the defeat of the Pandavas in a game of ball against the Kauravas. The temple architecture is rich, the traditions unique and the people very distinct. All ingredients worth preserving. But modern Hindu religion doesn’t seem to have a place for such differences. Not since the serial Mahabharata beamed into every TV set and projected the Kauravas as mean, deceitful, conniving savages trying to deprive the brave, suffering Pandavas of their rightful inheritance.
The proud inhabitants of these remote valleys read the writing on the wall and en masse decided to keep outsiders out of their way of life. Spend a week with them and you will probably not hear the word Duryodhana. They will worship him as they always have, but speak of him they won’t. If they are not sure about your intentions, they will even deny any link with the Kauravas. And why should they not do this. They are social outcasts in Garhwal. No government wants to be known as pro-Bawaris so they are practically living a century behind the times. Villages large enough to comprise 250 families have not heard of electricity, school, road or medical facilities. No NGOs operate here. No one speaks for them.
But there is hope. And that’s in the form of sensible tourism. Treks in these valleys are amongst the best the Indian Himalaya has to offer. The meadows are huge and full of flowers, mountain peaks are all around and camping sites are abundant. From the recently mushrooming river camps along the Tons at Mori, one goes up the stream towards the relatively big villages of Sankri along the Supin or Tiuni along the Rupin. From either of these, there are countless treks to explore the entire region.
The stage
High above the ridge separating the Rupin and Supin valleys lies a legendary lake, Bharadsar. Nothing surprising about this considering that the entire region is steeped in mythology from the Mahabharata period. As always, it’s totally up to individual interpretation as to what’s a myth and what’s fact. Anyway, coming back to this lake. It’s not easy to get there, I can vouch for that, and maybe that’s why it is revered so much. Don’t we always seek the unattainable? A trek starts from the Rupin stream and passing through the village of Birthi (or Bithri), with its tattooed women and poppy fields, takes you higher and higher towards the lake. It then drops down to Supin valley and its village of Pithari before reaching the road-head. We went in 2010 and were among the first few groups to go there, surprising considering it’s so close to one of the most popular trekking trails in Garhwal, the Har-Ki-Dun, one of the horse-shit trails. So many people tread that trail with their teams in tow that once again I am not able to make up my mind as to who is to blame for not even thinking of going on any of the countless treks around the place: the trekking agencies or the trekkers.
The cast
On a trek, it could be anywhere in the Indian Himalaya, you are accompanied by a guide, a cook and his kitchen staff, one of whom will be the extroverted type and will be the designated server, some porters and/or horsemen, depending on the suitability of the trek for mules or donkeys. Raju is not a popular name in the high Himalaya and the guides usually have more exotic names, in this case it was Swamiji. It’s Garhwal, so there was a good representation of Rawats and Singhs amongst the rest of the crew, notably Tikam, the tough as nails, never smiling second in command. Not to forget the women and children of Birthi and Pithari villages. And a group of twelve of us novices.
The act: A village of tattooed women and surviving a Himalayan thunderstorm
‘Listen, it’s just an 8 km walk today or what?’ Sangita asked disbelievingly at the start of the trek. Somehow she never trusted me when it came to my distance or time predictions. Yes it was, but, as we were soon to discover, all uphill. The first day of a trek is always the toughest. It’s when reality strikes and the romantic notions of walking in the wilderness are sidelined by the actual act of walking. Doesn’t matter how many treks you’ve been on, the first day blues are unavoidable. And on this trek, the feeling was that much more exaggerated as we trudged uphill relentlessly.
T
he chatter gave way to grunts and soon the first round of complaints were whispered amongst the laggards. Ignoring them for the moment, I picked up my pace and went ahead of the group. The sun was beating down and as we were moving through a cultivated stretch of land, tree cover was non-existent. This is another big complaint I hear: ‘I really thought it would be cold, it’s the Himalaya after all.’ But it’s summer; when there is no breeze and no shade, it’s going to be hot. Not to mention that the sun is sharper because of the altitude and clear air.
My water bottle quickly got over and as soon as I came upon a dwelling I asked the couple sitting outside for some water. ‘Nahin hai,’ the man retorted. Now this is unheard of. A remote Himalayan villager refusing water, and that too not very politely. I was still trying to justify this behaviour, linking it to what we have heard about the people from this valley being ‘different’ and often misunderstood, etc. when a young girl walking down the trail, jogging down almost, came upon the scene, admonished the man for not giving me water, took my water bottle from me, went inside and filled it herself.
Before I could say ‘Wow’, she had already told me that she was just coming down from a village where she volunteers to teach the kids, and she would now walk back to her village which is 7 km down the valley. Swamiji came by and said a very warm, and flirtatious, hello to her, which was responded in kind – they knew each other well. He asked her to join us on the trek. I was hoping she would say yes, but then she had to go home first she said, and would join for the next one. Oh, well. But her energy and radiance made my day and I am sure she is destined for big things.
