03 August - Navidhang

We woke up early feeling completely refreshed. In our exhaustion last evening, we had barely registered that the Om parbat for which we had trekked all this way, was completely obscured by clouds. This morning we were hoping that the weather would clear up enough for us to see the Om. This is indeed one of nature's miracles. The mountain top is usually covered completely with snow. During this time of the year, the snow melts sufficiently to reveal an Om shape in snow. The photo here is one I got on the net (courtesy: www.meriyatrra.com).

We waited for a pretty long time. We chanted Om with all our hearts. Finally the clouds parted to partially reveal the mountain top in the distance. But alas, a lot of the snow had melted and what we saw was a somewhat broken form of the Om. Courtesy: Global Warming. Another one of nature's beautiful and miraculous creations has fallen a victim to it. We all felt saddened and grew a little quiet. Still, we were glad to have made the effort and at least caught a glimpse of the Om. God knows if in future people will even be able to see as much. Perhaps future trekkers may completely bypass this part of the trek. That would be really sad. Anyway, this is what we saw.

After breakfast everybody went exploring. There was a beautiful little Shiva temple near the camp. Another point of interest was the wreck of a helicopter that's been lying around for a long, long time. This morning we lazed about till lunch. The weather was pleasant, no rain and we were only supposed to climb down to Kalapani and camp there.

Sachin had gotten better through the night but Pallavi was feeling ill. The altitude had given her a headache and she was also feeling nauseous. So Aditya and Pallavi left early, after breakfast. The rest of us had a nice lunch and left at around 12:30. Today, wonder of wonders, I reached camp first and in under 2 hours. There was not a spot of rain and the road was all downhill. After everybody reached the camp, I suffered through a round of highly exaggerated pats on the back.

By then Pallavi had revived completely and now Aditya was sleeping like a log. We ribbed her that perhaps he had had to carry her down the mountain. With the horse.

That day at camp, we had steaming cups of soup and sang endless rounds of songs. Around 6:30 pm, we went to the temple to join in the aarti. We sang bhajans and recited prayers and ate the bhog brought by the jawans. It was a beautiful experience. The whole atmosphere was spiritually charged and we returned to our fibre huts feeling rejuvenated. We went to sleep with the happy thought that tomorrow also was a light day, just the 9 km to Gunji.

02 August – Gunji-Navidhang Track – Part 3

After crossing the bridge, we stopped to catch our breath. Now I let go of Atul so he could get on at his own pace. Sushrut and I paired up for the rest of the way. We started crossing the yatris of Mount Kailash who were descending. Theirs was a big group of more than 50 and they had lots of mules and horses. The road had mucked up a lot under their feet and we were slipping in the mud all the time. They were exhilarated at having successfully returned from Mt Kailash.

After the whole group had descended, we again had the track to ourselves. The landscape became increasingly arid as we climbed higher. The track was wide and the slope was not so steep. Just as I settled into a steady pace, it started raining in earnest. At first I was glad not to be climbing in the hot sun. But then the rain began lashing at my face and arms and legs. Even though I was wearing a full raincoat, I could feel ice cold water seeping onto my neck and shoulders. A group of ITBP jawans passed by and one of them stopped to point at Sushrut's poncho. "Sir, you should know better than to wear such flimsy rain gear. Yahaan pe iska kya faayda? You need full coverage from the rain up here. "

I noticed Sachin making good progress inspite of being ill. Slowly the gap between us and the rest of the group kept widening. This part of the trek is somewhat hazy in my mind as I was growing increasingly numb. It's actually only about 9 kms, uphill of course but not all that bad. However, the torrential ice cold rain beat us up thoroughly. We couldn't see much around us through the rain. I was only looking a few feet in front of me and kept my head down to avoid the pin pricks of the rain on my face. Somewhere on the way I saw pretty blue flowers of Belladona peeping up at us from the side of the track. But I couldn't imagine getting out my camera in the downpour to click a photo. In fact between the eleven of us we don't have a single photo of this part of the trek.

I had no idea how long we had been walking. I had no idea when we were going to reach and I couldn't even open my mouth to ask. Sahji was waiting for us around the next bend. When we reached him, we could see a camp in the distance. I perked up a bit and deflated again when Sahji said, "That is not the camp. It's an ITBP post but the camp is another km or so ahead of it. Do you want me to stay with you?" Sushrut replied that he'd get us to camp, Sahji could go ahead to see to things. By now he was almost pushing me along. My toes were numb, my fingers were numb, my face was numb. The rain was whipping us on all sides. The wind roared through the valleys. Over all that noise I could hear Sushrut asking me if I was alright, and saying that it was just a matter of metres now, but I was completely out of it. I couldn't summon up the energy to reply. I trudged along putting one foot in front of another. At that point I don't think I even cared about getting anywhere. I was just walking. Later Sushrut confessed that he was quite alarmed by my behaviour.

Then out of the rain, we saw silhouettes of the camp ahead of us. Somehow I had managed to make it there on my own two feet. It was almost 5:30 pm. As we reached camp, my uncle came running out into the rain. He hugged me hard and said, "Ali ga majhi babdi (My little girl is here)". He had been tremendously worried because of the terrible conditions and later on he said he could hear his sister i.e. my mother's voice in his ear lambasting him for putting her daughter up to such a risky venture.

A jawan came and quickly herded us into a small shack. Inside, it was blazing hot thanks to a huge kerosene stove called bukhari. I was pushed as close to the bukhari as possible. Someone turned me around a few times like a kabab being nicely barbecued. As I warmed up, I found my voice. "I can't feel my fingers," I said. Someone peeled off my gloves, and my right thumb had turned blue. "Will it have to be amputated?" I wailed at Sushrut. "Oh come on, don't be so melodramatic. It'll come back to normal. Give it some time." I was told. Slowly, I thawed out and feeling returned to my toes, fingers, face with an attack of tiny pin pricks all over. The thumb took more than 3-4 hours. To this day, everybody ribs me about my thumb amputation. I maintain that my brain was frozen at the time and so I'm not responsible for anything said and done at the time.

Along one wall barely 2 feet from the bukhari was a bench. We sat there and drank a few cups of piping hot tea and warmed from the inside out. I really wonder all the time at the hospitality of the ITBP people. They not only do their duty but take care of all the yatris too as if they were precious family members. God bless them.

After we had substantially warmed up, we reluctantly left the heat of the bukhari and went to our tent. The rest of the gang was there. They had changed and almost all had fallen into an exhausted sleep. We too got out of our soaked clothes and went to sleep. All of us woke up only when we were called out for dinner.