Dec 28, 2006

Scaling Chandrashila Peak


Driving from Ukhimath to Chopta was sheer pleasure (pardon the cliché). Stretches of mighty pines and bushy rhododendron reminded me of the picture postcards addressed Switzerland; the sun pierced through dense pines, as shown in many a Hindi song; and meadows offered tempting camp sites. If time were on our side, I would have pulled over, to spend a complete day there.

It was a two-hour journey, on freshly tarred road, that reached us Chopta. There used to be a guest house in Chopta a few years ago but after the area was declared a sanctuary — banning use of generators or electric lights — only a few tin-sheds remain, with basic night shelters and food for the visitors. A lot of locals visit the Tungnath temple during the 'season'. While the ascent is a mild trek for the trained foot soldier, taking about a little over one hour, Pepsi dudes find it a tough call. A couple of kilometres up ahead is Chandrashila, the training ground for budding mountaineers where GMVN (Garhwal mandal vikas nigam) organises a session every winter.

As Doc and I looked at the route before us, a friendly advice came from the dhaba-owner whom we had enquired about a guide to Chandrashila. “Ab toh guide nahi milega, sirji (too late for a guide now) aap bas German team ke nishan pakad lena ( A German team had gone there early in the morning; you can follow their footsteps on the snow to keep in direction.) On hindsight, as I write this piece, this was a sound advice. For, when there is snow and heights all around you in a huge semi-circle, it is not difficult to lose way. Losing way means going in circles, tiring your bones up and down… but reaching nowhere.

Packed with advice and adulation, Doctor and I began the pilgrim. With age, experience and fitness on my side, I soon left Naren paces behind (sorry to rub it, Doc). But it goes to his credit that the old man proved to be no mean horse; steadily, almost like a tortoise, he pushed himself till Tungnath temple, whereafter it became snowy all around and he called it a day not due to lack of courage but for his soggy sports shoes. The kind soul even left a few tetrapacks of fruit juice for me behind, before turning his back (the juice-kit was taken care of by a pack of thickset langurs in my absence).

Before moving ahead from Tungnath temple, which was submerged in thick solid snow, I sat on my haunches to revive breath and survey the road ahead. In that 180-degree arc of snow-bound area, pray where to start? Cold weather biting my cheeks, I decided to look for the 'German footprints'.

Help came after walking alongside a roof (the dwelling was nearly fully under whites). I traced the ankle-deep footmarks on a virgin tract towards the right. Infact, there were two trails, which merged into a wider footpath higher. The problems began thereto. The footmarks worked fine as a guide, but they were slippery and unreliable for holding a new foot; one had to make his own path up at a painfully slow place (I rued why I ignored Deva’s request in Hrishikesh to take an ice-axe with me). My shoes-soles had worn out and their spikes barely worked. The way to move, therefore, was to first dig my leather heels hard into the snow, make a footrest of sorts, and then lead oneself upward.

Thanks to the foot trail, and some hard hitting, I reached Chandrashila in about one and hafl hours. I regained my breath, as soon as I looked around; the view swept away the fatigue. I was surrounded by smiling snowy peaks — all fair and lovely — in a 270 degree arc. For one brief hour, I just sat near the small Chandrashila temple, motionless. Meanwhile, the mind bubbled with ideas, stories, anecdotal phrases, and plans to bring more friends there... Only when the weather sent a few warning signals that I got up, grudgingly. My knees made an unfamiliar creaky sound, signaling the coming of age, and the hardships that the weathered joints had taken.

The downhill slide was rife with risks. The slippery snow and no hold-ons would ensure that if I slip once, I would be taken to some pit in the same direction. But moving slowly, I devised a way to come down without hurting my muscles. I would tilt 45 degree backward and jump in the desired direction to move. This would glide me down to a stretch as long as I could balance myself like a skiing enthusiast, and then when I were to stop I would dig my hand into snow to break pace. A few times, I did lost my direction and had to stab my left arm a few extra times with regret. But nevertheless in less than 15 minutes, I was at Tungnath temple, trying to rub my numb hands to life.

After that it was just a run-down – which includes a brief encounter with langurs who had taken care of the snacks left behind by the doc and a few painful landings on the slippery stones. Less than an hour later I was back to where the journey on foot had begun. Doc had a jealous look in his eyes when I expressed gratitude. Two warm cups of tea and we were back in the X-ing to scale back to Ukhimath.
"Go to the bazaar area first. We have to buy chicken, onions and garlic today. I will teach the bugger (a mild reference to the lazy GMVN bawarchi) how to cook a meal," Doc muttered minutes before we hit Ukhimath. I knew I would have a delicious dinner tonight....

(The last part of this sojourn, i.e., our visit to Deoria Taal and Dehra, appears next)

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

it is like the soaps on TV telling you what's gonna happen in the next episode.

Black Muddy River said...

Hill Goat: Prince was a straightforward good human interest story. And I don't remember candles at India Gate for Prince either. Okay, Prince was saved before the candles could be taken to India Gate, but what about Rinky? How many candles were lit for Rinky? Yes, media did help. The media helped by putting the story on air. By making people aware of the story. Which is what the media is expected to do anyway. The post is not just about media hype. It's about our suddenly-awakened Civil Society. And that continues to suck! You have written about Rinky? How many people saw the story and cared? Tell you what, if it was one of the elephants Vijay Mallya played polo in, we would have seen those candles!