Lansdowne

Google “Lansdowne” and you get a series of sites in “Lansdowne UK”, some in United Kingdom and some, in Uttarakhand! The place was named after the 5^th Earl of Lansdowne, who served in the British Army and lived here. It took us forever to drive the 270 km from Delhi. The toughest part was getting past Delhi and Ghaziabad. Meerut was another nightmare. After that it was through sugarcane fields and temples of eco-friendly Gobar on either side of the road until we came to a long stretch of forest leading to the hills. 15 km before you reach Lansdowne, the pines accompany the drop in temperature.

Fairydale, the guest house, happened to be hidden at the end of a path that you’d think your car won’t go through, but miracle of miracles, it will. Lansdowne is just what the doctor ordered. The place is so quiet you can hear silence. I especially liked the non-touristy atmosphere around the circular roads with bungalows tucked in between the trees. Each of the bungalows in the cantonment area has a number and a plaque with its history and/or a ghost story on it. One Bungalow for example, had a story of a British Army man who died in 1912 but whose ghost frequented the Mess. His ghost was last seen in 1947. He apparently came riding on his horse and told the driver of a military vehicle to wish the “sahibs” for him.

The cantonment board has done some really good work by naming all the trees in local language. You can see bainj (oak), buransh (rhododendron), pangir , morpank(fir) and chir(pine). In the evening the light was brilliant and we went crazy clicking photographs. The Garhwal Rifles mess is quintessentially Raj with its wooden staircase, lah -di -dah verandah and clusters of blue and pink hydrangea giving the place a surreal Englishness. Supposedly, one can see Chaukhambha from Lansdowne. However, according to the hotel manager, because of forest fire, the valley is really hazy and assured us that we would not get a view. So we decide to go to Khirsu.

Day 2 – Lansdowne- Jwlapadevi – Pipalpani- Buakhal-Khirsoo

Jaiharikal is a few kilometers away from Landsdowne and another option for stay. The drive was hot and road construction made it challenging. To visit Jwalpadevi temple, you walk down all the way to the river. It is of non-descript architecture, but a pilgrim to the shrine prayed by intensely yelling and shrieking and the priest kept a bell ringing furiously all along. This apparently is an accepted practice of praying to the Goddess who granted Sachi’s wish to marry Indra – the king of gods.

We went on to Buakhal and dense forest started. Because of the dry spell for the past two years, the ground is dry and forest fires are rampant. We followed a fire engine which tried to put out the fire but after a while ran out of water. Water seems to be a great problem in the area. Little children with colorful plastic jerrycans wait for a water tanker to pass and the driver stops and allows them fill from the dripping water. At the Khirsu guest house, an entertaining Manager told stories of his woeful existence in this place with no plumber, electrician, water supply, (water comes from Srinagar) or internet connectivity.

The place is beautiful and would be spectacular if the weather were clear and allowed views of Chaukhamba. The people are gentle, open and seem to have a great sense of humor. We met a lady carrying a rope net to carry fodder or perhaps firewood. When asked “Where are you going with the net?” she replied with a twinkle in her eye “I‘m going to catch this giant fish from the reservoir” What she didn’t voice was “…you stupid tourist!”

Day 3

We decided to stay on at Khirsoo. Next morning at 10, we started off on a trek to Rakhal, a hill top where the horticulture dept has an orchard and a greenhouse. You take the Srinagar road for about 30 mins and you come to a dry stream. The road takes a U turn and an old dilapidated uninhabited house stands next to the trail. Walk up the trail into a baanj/oak forest for 30 minutes. In monsoon, this trail would be greener and water would, depending on the precipitation, trickle or gush from several springs. Even though it was dry, it was still a beautiful walk along a dappled trail. Once you reach the top, there are a few houses and an apple orchard. From here, you get good views and there are plenty of birds to identify and photograph.

Khirsu has a helipad, certifying its tourism potential or ministerial clout. The walk to the helipad was through a village speckled with blue and green houses, nestled in the midst of terraced slopes looking their fancy best for photographs at a time of long shadows. The trail to the helipad was straight up, and 15 minutes later, you are sitting on the H with a couple of pine trees in the backdrop. There’s a 360 degree view. Leopards are common sightings here in Khirsu. We met a woman who offered us some kaphal - a sweet sour berry she’d picked. She was returning from the forest without fodder for her cattle because there’s a leopard on the prowl. And no, we didn’t get to spot one here.

Day 4

On the drive back to Lansdowne, we took the lesser frequented road from upper Pauri, after Buakhal. It goes through Adwani and pine forest and the road is perched on the upper ridges, and you get fantastic views of valleys on either side. The drive to Satpuli through Khanskhet was about 85km and was simply divine with pine forests and lots of wishful “This piece of land, I want to live in” stops. Lansdowne again made us go round in circles trying to figure out where the GMVN Machan is. After a good lunch, we visited St Mary’s church where there is no worship but where now, the Garhwal Rifles has done a superb job of restoration and maintenance. St John’s church looked tacky but had service. We walked on random trails , paid the touristy Tiffin top/ Tip and Top a quick visit, said hello to Bhulla lake and read the plaque on every little ghost bungalow there locking some of Lansdowne in memories to revisit.

Trekking in Arunachal

It's something else. The first time I ever went to Arunachal, I saw the forests I had only read about. Our new car swam through the river as the bridge had collapsed. The thick forests were dark and moist, giant ferns right out of a sci fi movie, and a world which, for long stretches, without plastic. An occasional human on the road carried with him his Dha in a intricately woven bamboo scabbard, a cane backpack and a hat made of such tightly woven cane that you could scoop out water from the river and drink form it.

It was several years after this first journey that I went to trek in this eastern himalayan region. First it was the Subansiri Valley that we followed from Limeking to Taksing and followed the river fork to another small valley, exploring the Indian semicircle of the kora(parikrama) route the early Buddists have written in ancient texts. We went looking for pilgrim shelters and spoke to people who could tell us about lores of the region. People still carried a catapult (for a quick bird snack), had a waterproof jacket made of reeds, their waterproof hat, serving as a bowl and the ubiquitous cane scabbard with their Dha in it.

The trails here are unlike any part of the Himalayas. If you have to ascend, then you climb a ladder or hold on to vines and climb 85 degrees. You reach the topmost ridge and walk on the knife edge with sharp, scary,unbelievable drops on either side. To avoid falling into the river, two casually thrown logs were the only, albeit euphemistic,"bridges". the concept of trails is different here as the foliage is thick and plants (like the magic beanstalk) cover trails overnight. You could get lost forever. So, you need a local (a hunter preferably) who knows where to hack the bamboos and other green things to make a trail. In several places, for an unrealistic amount of time, you can't see the sky because of the canopy of trees.
When you "trek", you crouch, stomp, balance on single,slithery logs, proceed valiantly till you reach the next wate source. When you camp you may have to shrug at a snake, watch out for leeches, make a fire to keep out the bears. When you breathe, you inhale a concoction of leaves, animal scents, fresh water and the bourbon biscuits you've pulled out for a snack. At meal times you notice that the cook's spoon has been carved out of a young tree or an old branch, everyone else is drinking out of a fresly cut bamboo glass (is that an oxymoron?) no plates are necessary because there are banana leaves or some other leaves bigger, better and more environment friendly making you camp style multipurpose utensil look like a fancy fool.
In this Subansiri valley, people hunt, live off the jungle or wait for Government supply of rice , salt and kerosine. the only reason they go to the plains to to lug 100 bottles of rum. It breaks the monotony of drinking the home brewed Apung. Besides, its good business. This valley had villages and people wove, farmed, went to school and even had electricity. One woman was weaving on a waist looma nd we got talking. i asked her what she would do with the fresh deer pelt that was hung out to dry. She, answered, " Oh, I plan to make a fancy hand bag with it!". Sorority- Women world over.
But there were also those who lived in the jungle - like "Bandar Mara" (before you think blood, mara is a clan name) who set traps for hares, rats or mongoose. He shot at bears, deer and of course monkeys. He built his new home in a few days, flattening and weaving bamboo for walls and felling a few perfect trees fro pillars, layering flat palm leaves for the thatch. He showed us how to set a trap for small animals using a flat stone and a couple of slivers of bamboo with a tiny bit of bait. This, I christen as the "chutney trap" with the poor rodent being flattened for its mistake. I was to meet this trap and its casualties in my future journeys in the Lohit valley and the Siang (Yang sang Chu) valley as well.

Theres something immensely calming when you take a train journey. Reading a whole book lying on the upper beth, you feel a sense of being completely yourself. You have no schedule except to try out the dal vada and the tomato soup which comes your way. 24 hours of nothing to do is absolute luxury squirrelled away between hectic everydays.
I once lived in Assam near a story book like station complete with guard, lantern and eager enthusiasm for the arrival of the twice a day train. Steam engines, white whooshes from the top of the train, clangs from within and outside the locomotive, little children with missing teeth waving the compartments of wooden seats onward to the next destination. Recently, in a fit of nostalgia, I took the "toy train" from Conoor to Mettupalayam. From the I got into the compartment, I felt like a 6 year old. Put my face right out of the window while swathes of the green Nirgiris rushed past, well, not so much rushed as trundled. The stations have quaint names and the canteen is ready with hot bajjis when the train stops, an then waits for everyone to get into their box compartments and then chugs along. You wait to see the train turn a corner, over a bridge, or go through one more of the several tunnels when the little compartment ( which seems like your temporary world) up and the children scream yet again. A must do. Before you know it, they may be phased out and all you'll be left with is a memory.

Brighu Lake - Himachal

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Brighu LakeTrek

14 km, 8hrs (walking time), 4,235m

Vashisht is on the Manali- Rohtang Road, 3km from Manali, less crowded and home to natural hot springs. The drains of Vashisht are in a constant gurgle along the temple boundary wall, steaming with boiling hot water. There’s a bath area in the temple for the uninhibited. The sulphur springs are well known for their medicinal properties. The Vashist temple is the familiar wood and stone structure common in Himachal Pradesh with intricate carving and a roof made of slate. However in keeping with the times one sees more and more alluminium roofs – unaesthetic, but I suppose economical and functional. An uncomfortable number of foreign tourists dot the area, several looking like they live there and could, with an air of imperiousness, tell you a thing or two about Vashist. Accordingly, the local eateries have adapted and do a great job with lasagnas, french fries, apple pies, cinnamon rolls and what have you.

Drive along the Vashisht- Rohtang road and you find a bizarre exhibition, all along the way, in little, numbered stalls. They fervently display “snow suits”, fur coats, bright coloured overalls, gum boots, all strung out with great expectations of a rental to the ever excited, endearingly gullible, happy family of Indian tourists who in their rented Sumos, throng this “highway”, which is in a perpetual state of insane traffic snafu. All this to see snow at Rohtang pass. However, once you get there, you can see people throng the bhel-puri wala or the momo-wala ( in keeping with the culture, you see). Now if your idea is to go to Brighu lake, you can completely avoid the mela situation above and stop after about 30 minutes drive from Vashisht, much before Rohtang, at a place called Gulaba, with the omnipresent Dhabha, at the head of the Brighu lake trail.

The trail takes off east from the road. A 20 minute walk up the trail and you are in a natural forest of fir, spruce, and Kharsu oak, away from the Rohtang madness and in an excellent camping ground with a stream on your left. You may still be able to hear the distant traffic but the white snow peaks cheer you up and the horses and sheep grazing in the nearby pastures calm you down and you can pitch your tent and soak in the atmosphere and decide to chill out and get to Brighu Lake the next day. But if you are strapped for time and you want to do the express trek, so be it. Continue along the trail up, up and up along the meadows. An occasional Gaddi Shepherd may stop and exchange pleasantries. Don’t ask him ‘Kitna Door hai”, he will invariably reply ‘Age baraf hai, uske age Tal hai”. To a question “Kitna ghanta lagega”?, his philosophical answer would be “Chalnewale ke oopar hai”.

After the constant climb for about 2 hours, the trail eases out into a nice walk above the tree line and you can see the shepherd’s markers on top of ridges and along the trail as route markers. Flat stones are piled one on top of another to form a pyramid. These are kept at vantage points to help shepherds and can be spotted even from a great distance. The Himalayan Blue Iris was in bloom when I went in June. There were other bright, colourful flowers infusing some cheer in the trek breaks or“breath-taking” breaks. After about an hour from the Shepherd’s marker, there are a couple of caves and rock overhangs if you want to camp at this level.

The weather turned bad and light snowfall made visibility low. But a small blue patch of sky at a distance gave enough reason for optimism. Another hour of walking and just before the snowline, next to the last stream to be crossed, a large rock pointing west makes a good resting point and a visual treat with snow covered undulations in the background.

A 30 minute walk from this rock and you can see Brighu pass ahead of you at a height on the right. Water is available all along the trail till you can see the Brighu pass and therefore many pleasant camping possibilities. You can see a narrow trail skirting the snow covered slope in front of you. The snow was not fresh and had turned to ice. Ice steps had to be cut out as the trail was at a great height and a clumsy foothold could get you 500 ft down an icy slide and beyond if you can’t stop. This low gradient, icy traverse took up one whole hour. There is a rocky resting area below the pass from where it is a steep uphill climb to the pass (20 mins). Once over the pass, there is a fantastic view of the lake that takes your breath away. Snow peaks surround the lake and there is a 360 degree spectacular view of the the Pir Panjal, Dhauladhar, the Lahaul triangle between the Chandra and the Bhaga rivers makes for some seriously impressive photo shoot possibilities. On a clear day, you can even see the Spiti Range.

Legend has it that Bhrigh Rishi meditated here, and that many local gods of the Kullu Valley, Guru Vashisht among them, visit to take a dip in its sacred waters. Bhrigu Lake is at an altitude of 4,235m and is considered a holy place. I had to take off my shoes and walk on freezing ground to the frozen lake and the lake and I had our personal icebreaker exercise and became acquainted. The locals have a thanks-giving prayer and bring offerings to the gods. Prayer flags flutter on a knoll above the lake. Gulaba is at 9000 ft and Brighu lake is at 14000 ft, so the altitude gain is huge and it is not advisable to stay too long at the lake.

The walk back to Gulaba is very long and very downhill. You can take several thrilling snow slide shortcuts to get to base faster. However, getting your base back safe is more important. Sliding down, though absolutely a fantastic, must-do-it-at-least-once-experience, is not completely without risks. Take some risk analysis advice from your local guide on this. Once on the meadows, you wait to get to Gulaba which seems to be an elusive destination. If you are carrying your own tents, it’s a good idea to camp in the high altitude meadows and put off getting to civilization.

Ever been to Tons valley? Interesting possibilities of riverside camping, rafting, chilling. About 400 km from Delhi towards Yamunotri and Har ki Dun. Mori is the village you should head towards and from there on, you'll see several pine meadow campsites along the river. There's a nice big bridge if you want to get to the other bank. You can also use the local transport to cross the river. Sit in a bucket seat and pull youself across the ropeway. If you camp higher, there are several streams, meadows with pine, oak and rhododendrons. I spottted some startlingly red wild strawberry . Oak forests offer shade and great resting views. Up at Ringali, you can see snow covered triangles in the distance. All along the trail, in summers you find what is locally known as 'jullus'' - tiny vicious little insects whose bites leave you scraching and and your ankles and arms stippled with angry red dots which remain for a week. Apparently, if you burn dung, the fumes act as an insecticide. It was interesting trying to collect a mound of dung and light it up. Several nomads bring their buffalo herds to this area in summer. You can see their colourful temporary camps dotted with intrepid, curious children, smiling, traditionally clad women, new born calves with their innocent eyes and worried looking bearded men. All of them tend to park themselves for a couple of days along a stream. Up at Ringali, dasies carpeted the earth and the landscape looked stunning in white. The trail back to Mori is an easy walk except for the slippery pine needles that takes you down to earth on a few occasions . Mori is a one street town and had rival political parties campaigning one behind another and being sensible about democaracy. The Tons Valley a good place to bring your own tent and chill for a weekend.

Ice Ice

Go in March or early April. Pangong Tso is still frozen. You can skate on it. There are hardly any tourists. The garnet hill is all yours to forage and find garnets. I believe the locals do it this way. They climb up, lie on the hill and squint downwards. If there's a glint, its a garnet. Quite unbelievable that you can pick up a rock with a garnet the size of a grape. Meanwhile, below the icy surface of the 140 km long, 7 km wide lake, the fish look at you through the ice. Some sea creature can be heard sluicing the waters below. Sea creatures did I say? Well, its the highest salt water lake. Once upon a time the Himalayas were submerged in an ancient ocean. On the side of the lake, you can see salt crystals glint when the cold sun strikes them. On the drive there you can see sand, rippled by the wind. Juxtaposed are the high snow capped mountains and glacial morraine . Marmots test the ground outside their burrow and Kiangs graze on the spartan spiny grass. Not far away is Chang La at 17800ft, a high prayer note, a bridge back to Leh.

Why I do what I do. Every time I read a travel article with enviable visuals, the words rush by and there is only one emotion that races through my capillaries and that is - " That should have been me!'' , so much so , I end up telling myself to stop wishing and start writing. What happens next is that I close the magazine and with that goes the urgency to make a start. Therefore the blog.

Life takes you to the most unexpected of places and situations. If you try to think of one such episode, several knock on your mind's door. The one knocking loudest today in my head is about a day in the market in Itanagar, Arunachal Pradesh. Formalities were being done for a trek in the Takpa Siri trail in the Subansiri Valley, my adventure yet to start.
Shopping for food for the trail at the local market was an uninspiring logistical exercise. Aalu, Pyaz, Dal, Rice, Coffee, the regular stuff. In the midst of the oranges and berries, sat a no-nonsense woman selling some bright green globules. I hadn't seen any berry this green. There was a crowd around her little market display on her maroon scarf. Edging inwards, getting a better glimpse of her wares, I saw that the berries were hairy and ..waita minute.. they were moving. Apparently a delicacy, they were rare and tasty caterpillars. To check its freshness /youth/ taste level, a little woman popped one into her mouth and started bargaining. The seller looked my way, flashed a toothless grin and continued bargaining for a wholesale transaction. I managed to get a pic. Wasn't brave enough to get a taste.