31 July: Gala – Budhi Track – Part 5 – Lamari to Budhi

Puran Singh, the guide, was quite ahead of me when he suddenly halted, turned around and beckoned me forward quickly. “Kya hua?”, I asked as I started running. He put a finger on his lips and asked me to be quiet. When I reached him, he was crouching on the ground. He pointed underneath the bushes on the side of the road. I first saw a flash of yellow. Then I saw a little face topped by 2 tiny ears. What a cute cat! I must’ve said that aloud. Puran Singh was scandalized. “Cat! That’s a leopard cub!” he exclaimed! “Wow!” I was fascinated.

I waved my arms to ask the others to hurry up. As 3-4 of the others caught up with us, the cub defiantly stared back at us. But when Puran Singh lifted a few branches to get a photo the cub disappeared into the bushes. I was suddenly struck by a doubt. “Puran Singh, if this cub’s here, where’s his mom?” “Must be round somewhere”, he replied coolly. “What!” I squawked. “Have you gone nuts? We are standing here admiring the cub while his mom must be licking her chops!” I now remembered Man-eaters of Kumaon and Jim Corbett and realized only then that, hell, we are in Kumaon. Brilliant, Watson!

We saw neither hide nor hair of a leopard again. But that evening, the sight of that cute little cub acted like a shot of adrenaline and I literally flew over the track.

But I was stumped when we reached the rock slide. A furious mountain stream had already changed course and was now directly flowing across our route. It was at least 10 feet wide and so fast that to step into it would’ve been suicide. There were 2-3 big rocks jutting out of the water. Puran Singh pushed another rock into the stream close to the edge and jumped onto it. “Now step on this rock when I go to the next one,” he said. “And hurry; there may be a fresh slide any time.” He gave me a hand as I followed him. Sushrut was right behind me. I was scared. Period. The gradient was so steep it was difficult to stand up straight. I kept expecting a rock to fall on my head anytime. The whole ordeal must’ve taken 2 or 3 minutes, but it felt more like hours.

Once we’d crossed the stream, we could see the original track somewhere ahead but there was no way of reaching it directly. Puran Singh told us to descend along the rock slide and climb up zigzag from the river side. “And be quick. Before this thing moves again. Go in twos, don’t wait for anyone else. Stop only after you reach the track. Go!” Sachin and I raced down and then up and finally halted, clutching our sides and panting. We waited only to see the next 2 or 3 heads appear and started moving immediately. We were still far from the camp.

We trudged along the track as it got darker by the minute. Everyone was nearly exhausted. It was only the 2nd day and we had yet to get acclimatized. The Malpa camp being inoperative, there was no option but to cover the distance in one day. By the time we saw the sign post for Budhi, we were at the end of our tether. Even then the camp was a km away. Finally we touched base at 7 pm. The glasses of orange Rasna seemed like nectar.

But the 2 senior members had yet to come. When they arrived at 7.30 pm we gave them a standing ovation.

31 July – Gala – Budhi Track – Part 4 – Malpa to Lamari

The next 2 hours were as harrowing as the previous two. Walking on narrow ledges, the cold wall of the mountain on the left, and the chilled fury of the Kali on the right. By now I had almost become used to the roar of the river. Whenever I needed to catch my breath, I chose the widest possible spot on the ledge to pause. As far as possible I avoided looking at the river. It almost made my head spin to look at the current for longer than a few seconds. I had jokingly remarked to Sahji at the start of the trek, when he warned us about getting too close to the side overlooking the river, that I didn’t even know how to swim. He had given me an odd look and said, “Honestly speaking, if someone had to fall into the river, he wouldn’t get the chance to swim”. Brrr! It sent a shiver up my spine.

By 4 pm we reached the ITBP (Indo-Tibet Border Police) post at Lamari. The ITBP officers and jawans are very helpful people. They are trained in disaster management. They are on the scene the moment there’s a landslide or rockslide. If a mountain stream has flooded, they arrive with ropes and help you across. They offer you tea and fat crunchy potato chips and warm water to drink. That’s another thing. For the rest of the trek, we drank warm water. You can catch a chill from the regular water.

They were waiting for us with hot tea when we reached their post. “Arre, aap toh saare jawan log ho! Hum ne socha abhi tak nahin aye matlab sab buddhhe honge.” Very funny! They had been expecting us since 2 pm. Once you enter the inner line area, the ITBP keeps tabs on every single person going to and fro. By the time you cross one post, the next post is informed about how many people, from where, how old, what names, everything. Your permits are checked thoroughly. Since the Tibet border is close, they are extremely vigilant. But absolutely polite. No arrogance while following procedure.
They said we were running at least 2 hrs behind schedule. In addition, there was a live rockslide just up ahead. “Please hurry up now. And walk with a gap of 15 feet between two people.” That begged the question “Why?” from me. “So that if anything goes wrong, you minimize the risk of losing too many people”. Very nicely put that.

I started off with the guide ahead of me while the others were still drinking their tea. I have jolly good stamina, but I can only walk so fast. I followed the tortoise principle thru’ out the trek. Slow and steady, but no race. And I am happy to say it worked for me. I finished the whole trek on my own steam, and was completely fit and peppy thru’ out.

31 July – Gala – Budhi Track – Part 3 – Lakhanpur to Malpa

We continued on our way to Malpa, much more cautious and serious. The barely 2-3 feet wide ledges high above the snarling Kali reduced our speed. The stones were smoothened out because of the constantly dripping water causing our boots to skid. The floor of the ledge was slippery and mucky. The raincoats were back on because we were constantly walking in and out of waterfalls. The roar of the Kali drowned out all conversation. Not that anybody was talking.

We now stuck close to each other. No one voiced out the worry that a slip and fall here would not have any kind of a happy outcome. There were no railings to speak of. A few relics from long ago remained. But they had rusted and would likely have fallen over if a butterfly had landed on the thin iron rods.

We clung to the cliff face on the left. The feel of the cold moss covered rock beneath my fingers gave me a slight sense of stability.

In places the overhang shielded us from the cascading water. It was unnerving to look out of the waterfall from the inside. The whole journey was fraught with risks and unrealistic beautiful moments. It seemed as if we were being teased by Mother Nature who alternately shone a hot bright light on us, dazzling our eyes, and then pushed us into a dark recess in the mountain, dunking us in chilled waters.

By 1 pm we had reached the halfway point. We would have lunch at Malpa. According to the original itinerary, this day’s trek would have ended at Malpa. But since the tragic landslide of August 1998 that killed more than 200 people, no one is allowed to stay there at night. All that’s left of the camp is a massive rocky patch and an icy stream that rushes down over a steep gradient. It’s a sobering thought, the fact that you are actually walking over the grave of hundreds of men, women and horses.

The stream that flows keeps changing directions. So we had to walk over a make shift bridge. It was actually nothing but a girder used in construction thrown horizontally over the water. Two 2-inch wide iron rods connected by wires. One foot on the left rod, one foot on the right rod. Throw out your arms and balance over the water. I gained a new respect for acrobats. When my cousin caught me on the other side, I nearly buckled in relief.

We had a quick lunch, being aware that we still had a long way to go. We wrung out soggy socks, shoes and hair, soaked up a little sunshine and pushed off once again in the direction of Budhi.

31 July: Gala – Budhi Track - Part 2 - Mishap on the way from Lakhanpur to Malpa

By this time, the sun was burning fiercely overhead. I’d taken off all those layers of sweater and raincoat and wore a thin cotton jacket over my t-shirt to protect my arms from the blasting heat. Later that night, I discovered angry red blisters on whatever patches of my hands were exposed.

At least I was no longer carrying my backpack. Thankfully, the third remaining pony owner agreed to tie our sacks onto his pony since no one was sitting on the pony anyway. The next patch of the track was risky enough without having to deal with the added weight of the backpack.

We were walking in loose groups of 3-4 people. Sushrut and I were the first to reach a rickety old wooden bridge on a U-turn, over a milky white, foaming waterfall. I paused to get my snap clicked over the bridge with no railings, made up of a few planks of wood nailed over a few logs of wood. I could see the water crashing a few feet under my shoes, through a few holes in the wood. I gritted my teeth and posed.

By then Sachin, Aditya and Pallavi had reached us. Aditya too wanted a few snaps so the 4 of us stood on the bridge and bared our teeth while he clicked. Disaster! No, the bridge didn’t crash, Aditya did. Right before our eyes, he missed his footing and went over the side of the narrow path. I heard a scream not realizing it had come from me. Aditya’s wife Pallavi was rooted to the spot.

In the next instant we raced back to where he had fallen. The water roiled sickeningly close. Just then, we heard his voice, “Don’t panic, I’m ok”. He had fallen into a few tall shrubs that grew by the side of the river. They broke his fall and he landed on the rocks by the water instead of in the water. He had fallen about 15 - 20 feet below the path.

Aditya climbed up a little over the rocks, Sachin flattened himself on the ground, Sushrut grabbed his ankles, and Aditya was pulled up to the path again. He had scraped his arms, legs and back, acquired an impressive egg on the back of his head and a few bruises. But he was lucky to be alive. He didn’t seem to have any serious injuries, but it was only thru pure, sheer luck.

Aditya’s fall shook us all up. We told the rest of the team as they came up, so everybody’d learn to be more careful and less breezy. But we kept it from my uncle and aunt, since they were anyway not running around boisterously and we didn’t want to scare them. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that we knew uncle would tan our hides if he found out how careless we’d been.

31 July – The Tough Route Begins (Gala – Budhi Track) Part 1 – Gala to Lakhanpur

Today we were supposed to cover 18 kms from Gala to Budhi. We set out at 6:45 AM after tea. Breakfast would be at the first halt at Lakhanpur. Sahji warned us not to dawdle on the way as the terrain was the most difficult one of the whole trek.

Before starting out, we worshipped at the Shiva temple. Sahji lit incense and rang the temple bell, praying for a safe passage. It had been drizzling since we woke up and there was a nip in the air. I wore a sleeveless sweater under the raincoat. The first two kms of plain walking brought us to Jipti. From Jipti there were steep stone steps that rapidly took us down towards Lakhanpur. Local folklore has it that the steps were constructed by a rajasthani Maharajah. There are supposed to be exactly 4,444 of them in number. I can’t vouch for that. I was too busy putting one foot in front of another to count them.

We were joined by three horses and their grooms. We had hired two for my uncle and aunt as they both are nearly sixty. The third was a backup in case anyone was hurt or too exhausted midway. One of the grooms was a young impertinent bloke. As he overtook me, he said, “Didi, agar aap ghode pe jaana chahoge toh mere ghode pe chalna.” (If you want to go on horseback, take my horse). I was flattered. “Kyun, bhaiyya?” I asked. “Arre didi, aap bhi chhote aur mote, aur mera ghoda bhi. Achchhi jodi hogi.” (Both you and my horse are short and plump. You will make a good pair). I decided that walking faster was a better option than strangling him.

Climbing down the steps was not as easy as it seemed. By the time we reached reasonably level ground, everybody’s knees were aching. Pallavi and I compared notes and realized that our legs were trembling so much that we were likely to fall over standing still. At one point we passed over an old landslide that was so huge that we felt like little ants. See the tiny red dot in the picture? That’s me.

A few turns later we reached Lakhanpur. There is no ‘camp’ as such. A hut is all there is. It was now 10:30 AM. Cool water and a hot cup of tea revived us. Breakfast was thin gravy of potatoes and steaming hot puris. Served cheerfully. With smiles and “Aur lo, aur lo. Aage bahut chalna hai” (Have some more. Lots of walking to do ahead). I must admit one thing. At all the camps, the staff was extremely courteous and helpful. After breakfast, we started down the road to Malpa.

30 July - Dharchula to Gala

The next morning when we woke up, the sky was still overcast. There was word that there had been a few landslides on the way from Dharchula to Mangti. But we were raring to go. We quickly had breakfast and secured the luggage on the jeeps. We had packed the sacks individually in rainproof jackets because the mules would pass through waterfalls and rain. If the luggage got wet, there were no shops around to buy any kind of spares.

The 45-km road from Dharchula to Mangti is made of narrow roads twisting and turning tortuously. The drop into fierce Kali is always just 2-3 feet away. Everywhere you look, the green peaks of the Himalayas are hypnotizing in their tall glory. By then the skies had cleared and everything was drenched in a pale watery sunshine.

The first landslide had left enough space to drive around it. With inches to spare on the side of the drop. We climbed out to avoid plunging into the river in case of a mishap. I felt guilty thinking that it seemed as if our lives were more precious than the driver’s. But both the drivers safely brought the jeeps around. The next landslide was huge. On the other side there were other jeeps waiting and sort of exchanged passengers. We took down the luggage and carried it over the mountain of rubble and again piled it on the new jeeps.

The third and final landslide did not leave us an option. This time the jeeps left us for good. We wouldn’t see any wheels in the area for the next 12 days. This landslide was all slippery mud and rocks. We slipped and slid our way to the other side. The mules took over the luggage. We hefted our smaller backpacks and began walking. Luckily we were only 2-3 kms from the actual starting point, so the extra walking was not so much as we had feared.

The track from Mangti to Gala is picturesque and fairly easy. In a few places, there were condors circling overhead. Small mountain brooks gushed and gurgled in pretty waterfalls. We filled our bottles and drank the sweet clear water. There is some mica content in the water which can sometimes give you an upset stomach. We didn’t face that problem. Our stomachs were probably lead-lined.

Milind brushed against a small prickly bush by mistake. In seconds, his hand was covered with angry red blisters which itched like hell. There was also a slight swelling. He held it under a cool stream of water and carried on. After a few hours, the swelling and blisters settled down. The offending plant was locally called ‘bichchhoo’ or scorpion in hindi. We learnt to steer clear of it in future.

At 3:30 we finally reached the Gala camp. Lunch was a light affair. Piping hot moong and rice khichri with papad and mango pickle. After lunch we sat on the parapet outside camp and gazed down into the valley. There were tiny birds, some red, some yellow, twittering around. The Kali looked harmless and distant from this height.

The sky was again overcast. By 6 pm, it was raining in earnest. We were happily surprised to be served steaming hot glasses of soup. By 8 we were ready to call it a day. We walked down to the dining hut and had a candle lit dinner. Sleep came easily because of tiredness. Bundled up in woolen socks, gloves, sweaters and soft blankets, I fell into deep dreamless slumber.

29 July - Dharchula - Preparing for the 1st Day's Trek

By 8 pm, everybody was famished. Lunch had been light, remember? We unpacked in the three rooms the eleven of us shared, and headed down to the restaurant of the KMVN hotel we were staying at for an early dinner. After dinner, most of us called home to talk to parents, children, spouses left behind. We wouldn’t have access to a telephone for the next 4 days till we reached Budhi camp where there was a satellite phone and that one would cost 32 rupees per minute.

After dinner Sahji called a meeting to give us instructions and details for the 1st day’s trek. Next morning we would be transported by jeeps to Mangti about 45 kms from Dharchula. From Mangti the 14-km trek to Gala would begin. It would not be a hectic first day. But it could get complicated by landslides between Dharchula and Mangti. There had been continuous landslides for the past few days. If we came across a particularly serious one, we would have to start walking much earlier.

The mules we had rented for our luggage were stabled at Mangti. If we had to start walking early, it would be with the luggage. I had just about managed to lug it around in Delhi. The thought of hauling it for an extra 10 or so mile, on steep roads was extremely daunting. My trek would get over the very first day, it seemed. Added to this was the fact that, after Mangti, the mules would directly go to the 2nd camp at Budhi. So we had to separately pack a sack for 2 days that we would have to carry ourselves on the way to Budhi anyway.

The remaining hour before bedtime was spent in frenzied preparations for the next day. Sometime after midnight, it started pouring. I creaked open the door to the balcony and watched the Kali roiling and churning in the faint light reflecting from the clouds. I went back to bed praying for the rain to stop before morning. But anticipation, and a slight apprehension, kept me tossing and turning the whole night through.

29 July - Kathgodam to Dharchula

As we made our way outside the Kathgodam station, we found our guide Sahji waiting for us with 2 jeeps ready to go. There were introductions made, our sacks were tied onto the overhead carrier, covered with tarpaulin because it often rains in the mountains and we pushed off on the 285 km long road from Kathgodam to Dharchula.

About 45 kms from Kathgodam, we took our first halt at Kainchidham. Here, we found an ashram, dedicated to Shri Neeb Karori Maharaj who is especially revered in north India. The ashram complex had 4 temples, of Vaishno Devi, Ramji, Hanumanji and Shiva. The temples were unique in that they were spotlessly clean. The idols were made of pure white marble and the inner walls of the temples were decorated with fine tapestry in rich colors of yellow, red, blue and gold.

We had breakfast at a little roadside restaurant next to the ashram. Hot pyaaz pakoras and tall glasses of lemonade flavoured with jal-jeera. Needless to say, we hogged. And lived to regret it. The road ahead was so winding and full of hairpin bends and curves that within an hour at least 2 people had lost that delicious breakfast.

So we opted for a late and light lunch and made our way to Almora. Almora, in the valley, is pretty. The tiny cottages and lavish bungalows clinging to the cliffside look like a picture postcard. The mountains are covered with tall pine and leafy rhododendrons. Little brooks and mountain streams play hide and seek amongst the rocks and foliage. Puran Singh, our 2nd guide was an expert on the local flora and fauna and pointed out interesting specimen. See the trident-shaped pine in photo.

A foaming white river called Dhauli Ganga, kept us company towards the end of our journey. The wide expanse of the river, especially when viewed from a height of 500 or so feet was a dizzying sight. But it was just a trailer of things to come. We would soon catch up with a demonic river, the Kali, near Kathgodam. Most of the 230 kms of the trek would be spent walking alongside this river and she would give us nightmares for quite some time.

We reached Kathgodam by 7.00 pm, almost 12 hrs after we started. And saw the Kali for the first time. No love at first sight there. Just across the river is Nepal. Kali acts as a border between India and Nepal. People freely walk across the bridge connecting the two banks. Hindi Nepali, Bhai Bhai.

28 July - Delhi to Kathgodam

Delhi was humid and sweltering, even though it was supposed to be mid monsoon. We spent the day at the residence of some relatives, crosschecking that we had all we needed and buying last minute stuff. None of the guys had sunscreen as I suspected, and I forced them to buy some. The ungrateful brats, of course, made comments like "God, I'm sure you must have 5 litres of the stuff, why do we need to buy extra?" but they would eat their words later.

At around 7 pm we lugged our haversacks, climbed into cycle rickshaws and made our way to the metro station at Dwarka. This time there were no trolleys and we hefted the sacks onto our shoulders. My bro-in-law quipped that I looked like an ant scurrying with a huge leaf on its back.
Sudhir uncle in his infinite wisdom had told us to keep our sacks unopened after the airport security check, upto the point where we boarded the metro. This allowed us to bypass the metro check. They only checked that the airport seals were unbroken and waved us in. It would have been an ordeal to open the sacks and repack them.

At the old delhi Station, we had dinner in the waiting room. We had carried methi parathas, sweet puris and laddoos to avoid eating at the station canteen. After dinner we climbed up and down the numerous stairways to reach the appropriate platform. Our train, the Ranikhet Express was right on time. Gratefully, we dumped the luggage and made ourselves comfortable. It was 10:45 pm when the train left Delhi Station and all of us fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke up refreshed at 5 am. It was to become a habit over the next few days. After freshening up, I woke up the few in the group who were still asleep. By the time we had some tea and got the luggage together, the train was pulling into the Kathgodam station. It was 6:30 am and the train was on the dot.

Even there, standing on the platform at the railway station, I could feel the difference in the air. The cold mountain air of Uttaranchal was crisp and the sky was a vivid blue. Adi Kailash, we are on our way, I thought and felt a thrill deep in my bones.

28th July - Pune to Delhi.

It was a crisp, cool morning when we started our much awaited journey. 9 of us (all of us are first or second cousins, and live in the same city) flew from Pune to Delhi on SpiceJet flight SG-204. Since the bookings were done almost 2 months in advance, we got good deals on round trip tickets. 2 other friends would fly from Mumbai to join us at Delhi.
I'd tried to reduce my luggage as much as possible. I still ended up with a haversack that weighed a ton and wore six-pocket cargoes with all six pockets bulging. I didn't want to go to the hassle of a cabin bag, so I stuffed a few necessities in my pockets. Little did I know I was just inviting trouble.
At the baggage check, I suddenly had a premonition. As my sack went into the scanner, I thought, They're going to ask me to open my sack. Because I had about 1 kg of Glucon-D packed in a ziplock, and it was surely going to look like heroin or cocaine on x-ray. Oh God! And sure enough, the official called out, "Whose bag is this?" Oh, the blue and black haversack? Well sir, that's mine. "Could you open it, please?" Sure, I love packing and unpacking and repacking.
I asked him anyway, "Is there a problem with my bag?" He called me to the scanner and asked me "What's this?" I turned to look, fully expecting my bag of heroin, I mean Glucon-D, to be displayed. Instead he showed me a weird shape like a bottle with a nozzle. Huh? "Is that hairspray?" Hairspray?On a trek? My cosmetics were tooth paste, tooth brush, bath soap, sunscreen and lip balm. Period. No, no, that wasn't hair spray. He then looked at me a little closely and asked, "Are you carrying vodka, ma'm?" Vodka! Me, a poor teetotaler! I racked my brains , but just couldn't remember packing anything that looked like that.
Then he asked a magic question, "Is that an oxygen cylinder?" Eureka! It was indeed an oxygen cylinder. With 2 senior members in the team and the trek reaching altitudes close to 5000m, it seemed prudent to carry an oxygen cylinder as precaution. Being an orthopaedic surgeon, my husband had procured one and packed it in my sack.
To cut a long story short, it was left behind at the Pune airport. It is pressurized oxygen, and not safe to carry on board a plane. Lesson 1: If you need to carry an oxygen canister, pick it up later in Delhi.
At the security check, everybody cleared the gates quickly. I entered the enclosure and didn't emerge for about 3 mins. My cousins gathered at the other end. Where has she gone? Well, I was asked to empty every single one of those bulging six pockets, and each item was scrutinized carefully. Lesson 2: It is better to carry a few items in a small bag rather than stuffing them in your pockets to keep your hands free.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and we reached Delhi at about 10:30 AM. In the evening we would catch the Ranikhet Express to Kathgodam in Uttaranchal.