It’s raining cats and dogs in these bewildered hills. I struggle with the boulders on a path quite moraine and ascend for a better foothold over a shade as I await my guide who has been missing in report for more than a couple of hours now. It's all grey, gloom and I am being watched by a not-so-grazing cow, both wondering about the other lone species' business here at these heights. Yeah! We both are here by choice met by chance, and while she seems resilient to the cold and wet, I am still struggling. And I wonder is this the start or end of the crossing for Indrahara Pass - graded on a moderate level and my first one to taste the 'moderateness'.
Indrahara Pass located in Himachal Pradesh well above the refuge town of exiled Tibetan leader Dalai Lama – Mcleodganj. It used to be the only crossing used by shepherds to cross over from Kangra district to Chamba. The pass residing at 4300m above mean sea level, is often visited by people who hike from Mcleoganj to Triund (a meadow at 3500m surrounded by Dauladhar Himalayan peaks and Pir Panjal Range overlooking Dharamshala town) but the crossing is what makes the difference in tell tale of this trek. A three day short trek with camping opportunities at Triund, Lahesh Cave, Chhata and a small village ‘Kuarsi’ in the end was worth a try for the short weekend getaway and preparation for upcoming Basic Mountaineering Course (BMC) due in few months. It was also my first time trying out Quechua products which made it even more exciting to test a few of them namely poles, tent, shoes, apparels and accessories.
Altitude Map of Indrahara Pass, courtesy trekhimachal.com
Things went well until camping at Triund, as I was familiar with the grounds since I had been visiting the place in my college days, but as soon as we crossed Triund high up north sudden change in weather immediately followed by insouciant down pours. My guide an aspiring military man, a local in his late teens was leading the way. We had a lot to chat about; he had been to basic and advance mountaineering course and had just missed to be in team for Mt. Kamet Climbing expedition. I was lucky to have him as he told me about all the fine points and blunt about doing a BMC at Nehru Institute of Mountaineering (NIM), Uttarkashi. He was carrying necessary cooking items when along the way I noticed the stopper of the kerosene stove wasn’t in place. Thinking it to be some local trick I asked, “Praveen, how does removing of the stopper from this stove helps?”
Praveen looked back at the stove, astonished said,” No bhaiya, it isn’t a trick, the stopper was there, it isn’t anymore, might have fallen-off on the route. I don’t have a spare one either!”
Now I was the one astonished! We were almost 4 hours from where we had started, it was raining with all the might, we were in the middle of nowhere and my guide says he will have to run back and find that small stopper all the way back to 4 hour-route!
I was sitting there still accompanied by not-so-grazing cow, lot of thoughts went passing why hasn’t he turned up? What am I gonna do now? Lahesh cave was no way near in sight as I struggled with the boulders to find a way. Every now and then I would look down the rocks to catch some movement but that wasn’t happening. I could take the same route back but it wasn’t possible to carry his backpack as well as mine, the route which engulfed along a ridge is quite infamous for slips trips and falls. With all the confusions and questions I decided to wait for him another hour and descend back before it became dark.
Thankfully after another hour there was a blue in the grey rocks. Praveen was running up the hill with the winning trophy in his hand, the “Stopper”.
Rain had eased a little, Lahesh cave wasn’t much uphill either, a horizontal space formed by two huge rocks with a height just enough to make you sit upright. We had our supper and as it happened to be my birthday as well I took out a little pastry from my bag and shared it with him. Ticking another thing off my bucket list – to spend my birthday in the wild.
“I always measure the height bfore enterin the cave, to make sure the top rock isn’t sliding down. I can sleep sound then,” said Praveen.
That’s a good way to say one goodnight and too on his birthday! Lying sandwiched between two rocks, never knowing if the rock had been waiting for this moment to slide down.
Lahesh Cave
THE PASS
It was a beautiful morning next day, sun rays kissing the landscape even making the rocky landscape glitter in all its glory. The elevation was steeper here and after some time, we took a little break, large peaks made themselves visible, Triund was seen down the horizon, boy! We had surely gained some respected height that could dwarf even Triund.
Looking Down at Triund
"Bhaiya do you see that drop between those two peaks?" said Praveen.
“Yes”
“Thats Indrahara pass.”
The most massive peaks stood in front of us, known as Mon peak which is generally used by climbers and need technical climbing skills. But we were to pass through that drop cheating the two and stealing our way into Chamba valley.
Indrahara Pass First View
The day was long and excruciating, the rocky terrain somehow made my mood gloomy, meadows ceased sometime after Triund itself. After few hours we finally made it just below the pass and were greeted by a Gaddi (local shepherd) and his whole lot of sheep, except one. It didn’t like us being there disturbing its high altitude moment and even tried to push me off-balance! But determined enough I climbed mocking its attempt and lo and behold! We had made it to the Indrahara pass and that is what it feels like to be at 4300m the highest till that date I had experienced. Mon peaks could be seen at a hands distance with another peak known as Arthur’s seat, there were some snow patches. The rocky plot of the Kangra side paved way for the green meadows lying on the Chamba side. A sight to remember! A pass witnessing the contrast on either side of the valley.
Mon Peak & Arthur's Seat View from Indrahara Pass
It was already noon, spending sometime at the pass and refreshments, we decided to descend down and proceed towards our next stop at Chhata. It seemed my ventures had finished and only a day cake walk lied between me and the end destination. Little did I know that the adventure had just started.
LOST IN THE MEADOWS
It took another half an hour to descend steep 100 m down the moraine route of Indrahara Pass. Lush green meadows awaited us, what a relief from those gloomy rocks! Sometime into the trek and we were shrouded in fog it was getting cold as weather was turning again, all one could see was fog and infinite vast meadows. Praveen got confused and we treaded a different route which he realised only after we had wandered for an hour or so. Somehow he tracked it again after coming across some really big and scary boulders we reached the mother of all rocks! It did really beat the gut out of me.
Chamba Valley Meadows
BEAT-THE-CRAP-OUT WALL
Down those grassy meadows was standing a gigantic wall perfectly plain ending down a rocky stream. I was left aghast, how the hell are we going to cross it? The area being wet was slippery as well. One mistake and you’d slip down those rocky rocks in the stream. For sometime I tried to argue with Praveen to find another route but there was none and we had wasted a couple of hours getting lost hence needed to reach Chhata as soon as possible to set up camp. With ease Praveen went down and asked me to do so, the Gaddis had blasted a few steps in those walls and those were the only holds, well beyond my reach. It took me another half an hour to gather the courage to crawl down beat-the-crap-out wall and I did with some help from Praveen who used his foot to make steps wherever I fell short. In between due to extreme poses the belly button of my Quechua trek pant broke off as it was already too tight for my size, my pants also came down along with me!
Beat-the-crap-out Wall
THE CAMP
‘Two triumphs a day was not a bad achievement at all,' I thought as I lay rested at the camp, Quechua tent flourishing in the meadows. It had grown dark, one can hear clouds rumbling, rain fall awaited us. We had perfectly pitched our tent and after having our meals stretched inside the tent. Good design of the tent helped to separately keep our belongings and enjoy the spluttering rain above us.
Chhata Camp
STREAM CROSSINGS, BROKEN GLACIER & THE RUBBLE CLIMB
Stream Crossings
They next day was as good as it can get. We were going directly to the village Kuarsi. Passing through green patches of shrubs and the meadows; unlike like yesterday the descend was gentle and trail well laid with few narrow footholds along the stream crossings. But like adventures always happen, the mother of all crossing came again, and it wasn't incidental. Down below laid a small frozen stream, broken, what would have otherwise just a walk across. To Praveen’s shock, he exclaimed, "Its the first time I have seen the ice-stream thawed, it was never like this." Whole stream was broken into chunks of large ice with icy waters gushing through them, another example of global warming and climate change.
"I would go down and try to rappel you across," said Praveen.
I waited as I watched him descend to the stream. He slipped!
Some how he got his hand on one of the rocks to rescue himself out of chilling waters. He came out holding one of his hands and looking at it. I knew he had hurt himself. He wasn’t looking up either, somehow I gathered courage and got down with trembling legs a mistake and I would have been thrown in the speedy gushes not knowing where would I be found down the stream. Trekking pole came in very handy at this hour helping me to make foothold amongst the rocks in the stream, it was a silver lining. Praveen had cut his palm deep, he was frivolously running around soaking his hands in the water every now and then to stop the bleeding. Halting for a moment, while I was dressing his wounds, he showed me our next confrontation.
The Broken Ice-Stream
A 100m high landslide area laid in front of us. The situation had worsen.
“These are very loose boulders we need to make our way up fast before the slide becomes active,” said Praveen.
I was horrified even to look at the mere size of boulders. We would be violating the very basic rule of trekking, never walk close to a landslide zone, and we were going to climb right into it. Left without any option we climbed up the treacherous moraine carefully as few small rocks kept falling now and then. The rubber at the end of trek pole had given away somewhere and it rang like an alarmed sound every time it came in contact with the rocks.
GETTING LOST AGAIN
We hurriedly climbed up, I had sweated more because of fear rather exertion. At a distance around a bend we saw few people sitting under a rock and proceeded towards them. Praveen, walking faster and disappeared at the bend, I paused to take few snapshots and soon trailing behind him reached the bend only to find no one!
The men had vanished in thin air, gone was my guide. No sign of anyone. I called a couple of time but no answer. Left with no option I followed the trail. Soon the trail ended in agricultural fields and high crops of the fields blocked far off views. I wandered for sometime but wasn’t even sure if I was walking in the right direction. Exhaustion, desperation got the better of me as I didn’t know where the hell was I and what would I do if it gets dark. All I had was my tent and all Praveen had was food, both of them being necessary for survival. I started panicking.
When in survival mode, mind can function exceptionally. So it happened with me too, I took my recently collected Quechua whistle cum thermometer and started whistling it as I wandered around. Soon I got a reply back, a sharp whistle. And both of them knew each other. I whistled again, so did the other. We played along as I followed it and saw the whistler. It was Praveen!
He was preparing maggi for us and chatting with people whom we had seen sometime before. They had freshly dressed his wound.
“Come bhaiya have some food. We need to move fast now. My village is just 2-3 hours now.”
Finishing our meal and after a few chit chat we left soon. It was already 8 hours since we had left Chhata on our way and were already exhausted due to the day’s events. And now since the day light would fade in a couple of hours we needed to make haste as the final trail passed through dense forest.
RACE TO THE VILLAGE
We moved fast, racing against time and light, through trails, thick and thin, down and up the tracks. Finally we reached Kuarsi village with the dusk. A small beautiful village awaited us with a square in middle of the wooden crafted houses. There was a common water filling point and near it few conversant villagers sat smoking sharing their evening. We were greeted by Praveen’s cousins one of them a little girl came running towards him and seeing his white bandaged hand went running back shrieking at the top of her voice! I had a tale to tell and he had an explanation to give!
Kuarsi Village
The journey was to be over by next day. Although the destination was completed a day before but what unravelled itself after it’s fulfilment that made it a trek to remember. Numerous doubts about self cleared, innumerous small and big hurdles eventually made me a better and more determined person. That sense of comradeship! It looked like a trailer for what was waiting at NIM and I couldn’t wait for the BMC to begin. Praveen hoped that his wound get healed before his physical fitness test for army recruitment. I sincerely wished the same for him too; the courage he displayed in weak moments was commendable. Wishing him good luck we finally said goodbyes as he went back to his home and I turned towards the civilization which would never knew what call of the wild meant for one of his inhabitants.
Returning Back
PS: I did complete my BMC at NIM with A grade; Praveen got selected in Indian Army.
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