Trek Himachal

Its one story I have been wanting to write for quite sometime. I was on this 45 day shortened to 30 day trek. We had crossed 2 passes. Things were looking good. We reached a village called Kugti on our way to Kugti Pass, 5040 m high. Then it rained for 36 hours. It snowed on the mountains. Even a fool could figure out crossing a pass that high was not feasible. We had what I called a 'back up plan'. There was this lake called Chaurasi ka Dal I had heard of on the Banni Mata Trek. Heard from just one man who had been there. Others around seemed to be vaguely aware of its existence. Then I had seen it on a map produced by Leomann Maps, last updated in early 90s. It had a track going towards it and one man we had met in April knew about it. There were issues though.

1. The map was old - updated in the 90s. The map guys could have got it wrong. It is a 1:200,000 scale map while standard trekking maps are 1:50,000 or better.
2. There was a man who knew about it when we met him in April. This was end of May and we did not know who he was or what his name was.
3. There was a track going towards it shown on the map but that track was from West. We wanted to attempt it from the South.

It was with some discomfort that I myself decided to go ahead and find this lake. Despite all the comforting factors, like having a GPS and hence being able to trace back, experience in the form of Jango and my own experience, its never easy to set foot on unknown territory. When we reached Tundah, where we wanted to start from, a helpful shopkeeper gave us all the information we needed about the route over a 45 minute discourse. In my last 10 months of travel, I have always learnt to ask one important question at the end. 'Have you been there?' Of course not. He had not so much as climbed up the ridge right above Tundah, that heaven called Mumbardhar. So much for all the information on the route.

We anyway started and reached Mumbardhar. A long evening and an early morning spent there were good enough in themselves to justify everything. Up there, there were Gujjars. Its a nomadic tribe who herd buffaloes. One of them told us about the route as well, ofcourse without ever having been there. The only bright light was the existence of the lake on the map, the GPS compass and that we were in the right direction. Not really comforting but I can live with that much. We got more information from a Gaddi but by now, we were not quite sure what to believe. The versions we heard were all quite different. There were times I even doubted if they were talking about the same route to the same lake. The lake had different shapes. The only thing common apart form the fact that none of them had been there was that we had to cross a pass and that it was a small pass. A whole day passed walking on a beautiful ridge, starting at 3100 metres and going upto 4000 metres. It was beautiful but there was no water. We had spent a whole day walking in hot baking mountain sun, sweating profusely, partly from the sun, partly from the anxiety. Then we reach a 4000 metre plateau with no water and it starts raining. Pir Panjals with their domineering peaks are a spit away. Its completely desolate, there is no vegetation except some alpine grass and some stunningly beautiful flowers. The scenery is beautiful but we have no water and no clue where we are. Its 4 in the evening. There is nothing much better to do than to camp. We walk down 1.5 km to fill 2 pots with dirty snow and melt it for water. A few minutes later, the sun sets. Barely 15 minutes have passed and the temperature outside is below 0. The ground is frozen. The transformation is drastic. From sweltering heat to freezing cold in a few minutes.

Next morning the picture looks rosy. I have often wondered how optimistic a sunny morning can make people. Sunshine and fire can change your morale in a matter of few seconds. The same gloomy setting seemed to have turned. In terms of knowing where we were, nothing had changed. The path was still unknown but we had a whole day ahead of us. Jango, however was not that kicked. I could sense he was ready to turn back as soon as I sounded doubtful. I just pretended to be confident when I was anything but.

Twice, we had to make critical decisions about which way to head. There was some discussion, at times even slight arguements. The pressure was telling. We were above 4000 metres amidst some serious snow, had walked 3 hours where no trail had existed on treachrous slopes, had no clue where we were, where we were headed, how to reach there and even how to find out when we had reached there. The last critical decision was to start climbing towards what we thought was the small pass. The way was up a steep steep slope with heaps of small rocks littered around. Each step forward was complemented by half a step backward as the rock mass would wilt under our weight. A little past noon, we reached what we had thought was our 'little pass'. It was a false summit. There was another one a few hundred metres ahead. The walk was through snow and beside a steep slope. It was already noon, snow was melting and unsettling rocks around. There was the risk of a rock rolling down and catching us in the wrong place. Finally, about 1 we reached our 'little pass'. At least we thought so. The 'little pass', mind you, was 4507 metres, higher than all the passes in the Dhauladhars. It did not have a name. We christened it Chaurasi Pass because it supposedly led to Chaurasi ka Dal.

In normal times, when we reach a pass, we normally make a long stop, sometimes more than a couple of hours just to look around, enjoy the scenery, have something to eat and such. At 4507 metres above sea level with no clue where you are and no information on the next camping spot, the first thing you do is want to get down the other side. And then you see a 10-15 foot vertical ice wall all around. Somehow, we found a way to avoid the wall, only to walk on more of the loose rock stuff on a vertical slope. Eventually, we slid down on an almost vertical slope of snow with heavy backpacks. Suddenly, we were feeling much better. The pass was done. It was not little by any stretch of imagination but it was done with, we had reached the other side. We were almost getting to high fives when something suddenly dawned upon me. Where in the name of the god was the lake? We were 300 metres below the pass and could see another 300-400 metres. No trace of a lake. All around us were mountains, really high ones and we were in the middle, probably where the lake should have been. Did we come down the wrong pass?

Going back the same way up that path was the last thing we wanted to do and the map was almost useless by this time. With the scale it had, accurate navigation would be impossible and it had no waypoints in the area to navigate with. My 6th sense however said that the lake was close. When your eyes cant see anything, your ears cant hear any water flowing, who believes 6th sense? You do when you look back at what you came down from. You also do when you know you have come 4 days just in search of something and it could be round the corner. Unless it became impossible to walk, I was not going back. A few hundred metres below on the trail (that did not exist), we turned a sharp left and viola, there was a lake!

It was quite a lake. I had never seen something as beautiful. Everything about it was perfect. Its shape, the colour of the water, the surroundings, the quiet around it, the lack of people. It was the lake of my dreams. I have seen many a lake on TV but none quite as beautiful as this one. This time there were actual high fives. All the tiredness of a long 8 hour day with no rests at all, climbing up a 'little pass' was gone in a minute. We were alive again. The tension in the air was replaced with non stop discussion with both me and Jango claiming how each one of us was right about the path we had taken (while we were ofcourse not right all the time) or how the other was getting unnecessarily concerned  Secretly, we both knew what we went through, the doubts we had, the number of times we wanted to turn back and almost did but pure stubbornness kept us going. You dont mention such things, do you? You just want to revel in the moment and take out hours of tension by talking for hours, going over each moment many times over and just smiling, being happy that you did something you have never done earlier and who knows, may never do again.

It was perfect because we had found it from scratch. Another day, when I go back, I wont find it half as beautiful as I found it when I 'found' it. There is a lot of pain in discovery and little pleasure. The little pleasure however lasts a lifetime, the pain only the first few moments.

Things I discovered: Mumbardhar, Chaurasi Pass, Chaurasi ka Dal, rural Churah and more about myself.