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Given the choice between
paradise and the Himalayas, I would most definitely choose the latter. For in
the Himalayan peaks is reflected the divinity of a temple, in the rivers, the
purity which ascetics yearn for and among the deodars and pines dwells the
romance that sends the spirit soaring into flights of infinite joy. It is at
such moments that one envies the eagle high above in the clouds for that
incredible pair of wings which nature so unmercifully did not bestow us humans
with.
One of the many regions of the Himalayas where nature bares its intoxicating
best is Kumaon. A part of the largest north Indian state of Uttaranchal, Kumaon
was made famous by its man-eaters in the earlier part of this century and later
by their legendary hunter, Jim Corbett. But it is the anonymous mountain lover
who discovered the horizons of unparalleled beauty through treks in this region.
And one such unique trek is to Sundardhunga glacier, the ideal time for which is
September-October.
The trek begins at a tiny hamlet called Saung, about 500 kilometers from New
Delhi. Located a few hundred feet above the Saryu river, it is reachable within
a day if you have your own private jeep or any other sturdy vehicle. The drive
covers Muradabad, Almora, Kausani and Bageshwar. On a clear day the snow peaks
are visible from Almora itself. And as you drive further towards Kausani, the
landscape gets prettier. Someshwar valley, just before Kausani, is rich with
rice fields spread like a green carpet. The river flowing right through the
centre of the vale and local women working in colorful attire make a typical
hill village scene. One is compelled to stop by and just gaze in wonderment at
the tranquil pace of life. No one is rushed to catch buses or meet deadlines.
Faces glow with satisfaction and contentment. No threats of nuclear holocausts
and no fear of burglaries. Serenity prevails and that is enough.
The 13-kilometre uphill drive from here takes you to Kausani where a night halt
is strongly recommended for those who cherish the colors of the setting sun
being reflected by peaks such as Trishul, Nanda Devi, Nand Ghunti, Nanda Kot and
the five peaks of Panch Chuli. A panoramic view of 320 kilometers of Himalayas
lies stretched across for mortals to behold. And if one happens to be there on a
full-moon night, the sight promises to be an unforgettable experience. Down
below on can see the twinkling lights of Baijnath valley strewn like diamonds
over black velvet. There is little to say at such moments, as one pair of eyes
seems insufficient to absorb all that can be seen. A powerful pair of binoculars
is just the thing to carry to such sports.
Sunrise from Kausani is equally spectacular. Watching the gradual brightening of
the peaks while sipping a hot cup of tea early in the morning is perhaps the
best way to begin your day. There is nothing to match the celestial majesty of
Trisul as it rises heavenward in an apparent bid to kiss the skies. A good
camera with a 28/200 wide angle cum zoom lens can capture some exotic pictures
of this heaven on earth.
At the confluence of the Saryu and Gomti rivers lies the town of Bageshwar.
Legend has it that Lord Shiva visited the confluence in the form of a tiger (bagh)
hence the name Bageshwar. This place is a 120-minute drive from Kausani and also
the last halt before beginning the trek form Saung the following morning.
One of the most exhilarating drive I have had is form Bageshwar to Saung along
the Saryu river. The shimmering clear waters slipping and sliding over boulders,
and at times calmly meandering through bends area a joy to watch. All this
against a backdrop of tiny huts dotting the lush green mountain slopes would
make a photographer ecstatic. Numerous spots on the way beckon you for a swim
but time constraints deprive one of the experience. In fact Saryu is the soul of
this region. Its grandeur here is no less than the eternal Ganga. Saung is 38
kilometers from Bageshwar and the effort should be to begin the trek from here
before sunrise (which we did not) so as to catch the early morning view to the
peaks form Dhakuri Pass. Porters are available from Saung and can be an asset
along the way since this trek is no cakewalk. Physical and mental conditioning
is necessary prerequisites to say the least.
From Saung (4662 feet) it is a steep and continuous 12 kilometers climb to
Dhakuri Pass (9324 feet) from where Nanda Kot, Maiktoli, Panwali Dwar, Bhanumati
and Mrigthuni can be see peeping from behind the folds of smaller mountains. The
strenuous five-hour ascent to this spot is worth the view as a gentle breeze
rejuvenates the spirit to be followed by a sudden one-kilometre descent to
Dhakuri rest house which provides some respite to the bursting lungs. Located at
a height of 2600 metres the rest house enables a similar view of the peaks but
from a different angel. It is an idyllic little meadow surrounded by a thick
pine forest. A night halt is possible here, but we marched on after a delightful
lunch of hot dal and rice which the dhabawala (owner of the eating place) made
so promptly; though the cleaning of the plates was done by a burly sheep dog who
licked them to a shine that washing powder manufacturers will be envious of!
The walk to Khati (7326 feet), where we halted for the night, is quite leisurely
through a thick forest on a comfortable kuccha (mud) path. Khati is the junction
from where one takes different routes to the Sundardhunga, Pindari and Kafni
glaciers. The ranges on the Pinddari side are partially visible form here.
Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam has a rest house here as well, but one can also avail
of a so-called ‘hotel’ being run by an enterprising ex-serviceman. The menu
is limited but the local stuff tastes better than gourmet cuisine after a
strenuous day’s walk.
It is an exhilarating seven kilometers walk from Khati to Jatoli (7825 feet) and
particularly so if begun early in the morning. The initial two kilometers
descent gets you to the confluence of the Sundardhunga and Pindari glaciers,
where the deafening roar of their cascading, gushing waters dominates all else.
Crossing over two dilapidated suspension bridges held together precariously can
be quite a test for the nerves as they sway in the air with every step you take.
After this begins the two to three hour climb to Jatoli through a dense forest
which grows denser as the trek progresses. Jatoli is a tiny though picturesque
village perched on the belly of a mountain. Hospitality of the locals here is
more than words can describe. Tea, food, cucumbers are there for the asking. A
fire is immediately arranged for those feeling cold and one is promptly
surrounded by innocent smiling faces. What more can a tired traveler ask for?
This is also the last inhabited place on the route and it is therefore advisable
to spend the night here and leave for Kathalia (13 kilometers away), the final
destination, the next morning. We however continued and had to pitch tents for
the night at a god forsakes place, eight kilometers short of Kathalia called
Duniadhong.
The stretch to Duniadhong is full of steep ups and downs through a thick jungle
where bears, panthers and other unfriendly beasts abound. Fortunately we had no
close encounters. The density of the foliage prevents any sunlight form
filtering through and that makes noon time look like six ‘o’ clock in the
evening. It therefore makes more sense to walk together in a group. We did this
leg in the afternoon when rain caught up with us, but undaunted, we crossed tiny
brooks and streams to reach Duniadhong by 4 p.m.
One is almost certain to cross a nondescript place like Duniadhong if a guide or
porter is not there to tell you that a six feet by six feet patch of uneven bald
ground soaked in rain water hidden behind the trees is it. It is a nasty spot
with an overhanging rock providing partial shelter from the rain as the
Sundarhunga river gushes past just a few feet below it. We were too drenched to
ask any questions or complain about the inhospitable surroundings and pitched
our two tents for the night. Soup, cheese and instant noodles came in handy and
we cuddled into our sleeping bags after that. I remember the porter pouring out
more than half a bucket of rain water from inside my tent the next morning.
The scene changes dramatically a few hundred metres after Dunidhong. An entirely
new vista opens up with a narrow valley carvel out by the Sundardhunga River and
its tributaries. There are tall Rocky Mountains on the right with waterfalls and
nullahs (drains) rushing down to meet the river. On the left there is more
vegetation as one walks on boulders and occasional grassy patches at time. The
meadows of Kathalia located at an elevation can be seen in the distance and
beyond that lies the Sundardhunga glacier. But before that, one experiences
close encounters of the unexpected kind in the form of rock falls and a
partially active landslide where I did the fastest 100 meter dash of my life.
Added to this were the swollen streams with the overnight rain where we clung to
the porters and waded through waist deep-freezing waters, begging the Lord to
forgive us our sins.
With the rain threatening a deluge (as in our case) Kathalia can prove to be
very elusive. The paths are slushy, the ascent stiffer and noses red with biting
cold. But stopping and trying to rest makes things worse by slowing down the
blood circulation and thereby losing the heat generated within the body.
Realizing this we pressed ahead till the mist started clearing and we crossed a
natural boulder bridge over the Sundardhunga river to step on the lovely
grasslands of Kathalia (10323 feet). It is a truly magnificent sight to behold a
meadow of that size with rugged mountain peaks on three sides proudly displaying
their crowns of fresh snow. The night in Kathalia has to be organized in what
looks like something out of the Stone Age. Shepherd huts made of stonewalls with
a ceiling of thick logs of wood and rainwater leaking continuously from
different corners. A well-lit fire inside along with the comfort of a cozy
sleeping bag shut the world out for those blissful moments which are hard to
experience in the urban surrounding of the materialistic society we live in.
The ultimate stretch leading to Sukhram and then Nand Kund, the window to
Sundardhunga glacier, Maiktoli, Panwali Dwar, Mrigthuni, Baljoori, is an almost
vertical seven kilometers climbs which the Rain Gods did not permit us to trend.
We were thus deprived of a spectacle which a blessed few of this planet must
have seen. A most disappointing end to all that effort, but there is little that
one can do when nature is unwilling to oblige. And the persistent downpour that
day stood stubbornly between us and the abode of the Gods. The dejection of it
all has been difficult to overcome. Agle sall phir aana saab, phir Sukhram tak
zarroor jayenge, (come again next year sir, we’ll definitely make it to
Sukhram then), said one of the porters. “Perhaps”… I said hopefully.
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