First Foray : Har Ki Doon

Prologue :

   "The time is 2:45 a.m. You are snuggled as far as possible into your sleeping bag. It's warm and comfortable in there, but something is disturbing. With clumsy movements, you move out of your bag, turn on your headlamp and realize your head was resting on the cold floor of your Quechua tent; the Rain Poncho you had been using as a pillow has slipped. Checking the temperature, it is a finger-numbing zero degrees. Any time spent outside the confines of your sleeping bag sends shivers across your body. As your senses begin to get sharper the more you stay awake, you hear the rains falling outside. But it's much louder; it's a hailstorm. At this temperature, the rain freezes before hitting the ground. With your makeshift pillow now in place, you snake your way back into the sleeping bag, pulling it up as far as your ears. You want to catch some quality sleep before dawn; today is the Summit Day."

Day 1 :
   A pleasant morning woke me up in the hill city of Dehradun on 25th of April 2015. at 6 a.m. and I'm off to the Railway Station to report to our company, Trek The Himalayas. Even at such an early hour, the city was bustling with activity; rickshaw haulers were seen transporting goods with their vehicles making a characteristic 'Purr'. Birds were chirping loud enough to compete with the chattering around a temple. A tea stall outside the temple had generous people manning it, who were distributing tea free of cost. It was indeed a sight.

Route to Sankri.

   Speaking of generosity, I happened to meet a fellow trekker, by the name of Dr. Devendra, at the airport the previous evening. Since I did not have an overnight accommodation booking, he graciously invited me to stay over with him. Such good company! Samaritans like these make you feel comfortable in a city you've never visited before.
   I reached the station and reported to our driver, Mr. Mohan. Amiable and extremely fast at his job, his antics in the meandering roads of Uttarakhand made us catch our breaths several times. The pothole-ridden roads weren't making our backs feel any comfortable. Our destination was the village of Sankri, about 250 kms away. Which means you either need to sleep, photograph or keep bugging the driver "Bhaiyya, aur kitna time?" through the 8 hour ride. We took a stop somewhere at 9 a.m. for breakfast. En route, you pass through tourist hotspots like Mussorie, Kempty Falls and so on. The first glimpse of the snow-clad mountains comes about 4 hours into the journey; when you see the towering Yamunotri over its neighbors. That is when you feel excited about being here; you realize the reason why you decided on this trek in the first place. Even before taking our first steps in the Himalayas, our adventure had begun!

   We reached Sankri by 2 p.m. and after a brief lunch of Maggi, we proceeded to our campsite, Base Camp. Ideally, we were supposed to be given a Guest House to refresh. Due to some reason, we weren't. I recommend you sort this issue out before registering for treks. Here we met our trek leader, Mr. Nitin Ananta. Describing himself as a wanderer, he entertained us throughout the trek with his truckload of experiences in the Himalayas. Welcomed with a glass of ice cold nimbu paani, we soothed our throats in the scorching Sun. But then, something very unexpected happened. Clear skies were replaced with dense clouds in a matter of minutes; clouds through which no Sun rays could penetrate. It suddenly became very chilly. I rushed to one of the tents to unload my backpack and cover myself in as many layers as it took to feel warm. Our jeep was the first one to reach Sankri; two others were on their way. With nothing much to do, I settled down comfortably in my tent, stretching out my entire frame with an appropriate novel, 'High Adventure', by Edmund Hillary. By 7 p.m., all the other jeeps had arrived and we had our dinner. Here I was introduced to our Co-Guide, Mr. Subhash. Very rare in a city from where I come from, we went to bed by 9 p.m. Tomorrow we would begin our foot journey!
 

Sunrise as seen from Base Camp, Sankri.

Day 2 :

Sankri to Taluka.

   A smiling face woke my tent partner Vishal and me up at 6 in the morning. Offering us black tea was Sachin, our kitchen staff. We downed two glasses, hoping for some warmth; we were told later that the mercury had dipped to 8 degrees the previous night, our first taste of the Himalayan cold! Dressing up as efficiently as we could in the cramped confines of the 6-by-6 tent, we were served breakfast at 7 a.m. We witnessed a beautiful sunrise over the snow peaks in the distance and most of us rushed to get our cell phones and DSLRs. The ones who didn't rush were still filling up their stomachs.
   By 8 a.m., all 18 of us were ready to proceed to our next campsite, Camp 1 close to the village of Taluka. We would ascend to 2410 mtrs from 1920 mtrs in a 7 hour, 13 km trek. The road was well-paved by walking standards since jeeps go up to Taluka. This was probably the trek route with the most variety. We had to pass through thick jungles, ice-cold rivulets, bamboo bridges over larger rivers and had the constant company of three faithful mountain dogs. The first few days are always difficult and I could feel my lungs gasping and heart pounding in the initial hour itself. Having decided to carry my own backpack as against having it transported camp to camp by mule, the frequent breaks were a relief. One mustn't hesitate to ask for a halt; there is no place for pride in the mountains. If you're out of breath, stop.

Mother-Son duo.

   There was no visible change in the altitude, one moment you see yourself ascending a rock patch. In the next 15 minutes or so, you would descend down into a jungle. After such dozen ups and downs, I reached Taluka. It is a small village, smaller than the area of my college! Here we rested for refreshments of tea, maggi and Mountain Dew. The Dew was the most sought after product, because it was noon by now and the Sun shone brilliantly over our heads. There are a few Government-owned guest houses here, but we couldn't see any occupants. In any case, that wasn't our destination; we still had about 2 hours of walking to reach Camp 1, which was at a flat mountain top known as Bheduka.
   I felt particularly dizzy, so I decided to rush ahead and cut that time to one hour. Cut I did, but at a cost. I reached the campsite with a blazing headache and burning vision. I was afraid I was having symptoms of Acute Mountain Sickness. (AMS is a medical condition wherein sudden increase in altitude results in one or more of the following : Headache, Nausea, Vomiting, Difficulty in vision and Difficulty maintaining balance. If you show  any of the above signs, tell your trek leader immediately. Left untreated, it can lead to a bad experience.) And if that wasn't enough, the sudden changes in temperature in between the Sun shining and hiding behind the clouds was making my headache worse. I learnt a valuable lesson here : Never stay inside the tent when it's sunny outside, it gets uncomfortably hot. Nursing my headache for the rest of the day, I couldn't participate much in the formal introduction of all the participants and post-dinner discussions. I just wanted to go to sleep. After a half-hearted dinner of soya chunks with gravy, roti and dal rice, I covered myself up in my sleeping bag and pretty soon, by the combined effects of an analgesic and the lullaby flow of the  Shupin river alongside, I went off to sleep.

 Day 3 :
   Come morning, and I woke up refreshed and instantly better. The good sleep and rest had helped me recover and not even the bitter cold could dampen my spirits to take on the next challenge, which was ascending to our next village Osla, at an approximate altitude of 2800 mtrs. I rushed ahead of everyone else into the dense jungles through which our trail passed, only to realize after the first 10 minutes that there were no trails whatsoever! Hence, I was forced to wait for Nitin. My fellow companion, a dog resembling a polar bear seemed to know the way, but to my scared mind trusting him wasn't an option.

Bhangaad, en route Osla.

   And thus we walked ahead, by noon we had reached a small shop by the name of "Graid Himalay Restaurant". The proprietor probably meant something else, but never mind. Another gulp of Mountain Dew and a brief rest of 10 minutes charged us up enough to reach Camp 2 at Puani Gharat, about 2 kms before Osla. On the way, we passed the village of Bhangaad, set in a picturesque location of snow mountains above and the Shupin river below.

Camp 2 at Puani Gharat.

   A cheerful Sachin once again thrust a glass in our hands, but this time it was mushroom soup. Gulping down the hot liquid, it felt good to have reached here in good time. We were ahead of the mules all throughout, so we had to wait for our tents arrive. Photo sessions began and soon, requests like "Ek aur!" and "Snow aana chahiye!" were common. We helped assemble the tents once the mules arrived, settled down for a glass of hot tea and biscuits and prepared for sleeping. While shifting my backpack I noticed the left shoulder strap had torn halfway. I thought it was a major catastrophe. However, quick response from our leader Nitin and a generous pack of safety  pins from Suman ji from Bangalore ensured the bag wouldn't give me a problem.
   The Himalayan weather is so unpredictable and notorious; I went to pee to our toilet tent and by the time I came out, the sunny weather had changed to moderate rainfall. Such are the weather variations. After a piping hot dinner despite the cold weather, we kicked our boots and settled in for the night. It was dead in the night when my grumbling tummy woke me up and I dismissed it as an effect of the river water I had for drinking. Once again, the flowing river alongside helped me drift off to sleep.

Day 4 :

   The first cup of tea and five minutes of walking uncomfortably were all I needed to diagnose myself with diarrhoea. (There's no shame in admitting it. It is fairly common in the mountains where even crystal clear water could make you sick for the first few days.) Vishal, my tent partner helped me pack up my stuff and Rushabh, another friend from Mumbai offered me Electral, an Oral Rehydrating Solution. This is when friends save your butt. Seeing so many patients in my hospital fall sick just because the body doesn't hold enough water, I tore open the packet, mixed it with a litre of water and kept sipping it whenever I felt I was even remotely fainting. But I kept walking. I fell behind to the last 5 trekkers, but I didn't want to stop.
   I managed to make steady progress towards Osla and within an hour, I was in for plenty of surprises. First was that Osla wasn't too far away and I could relax a bit seeing my target. Second was that there was a functional STD booth, which meant I could call my family and let them know I'm safe. It functioned on satellite communication by BSNL. The third was that I felt significantly stronger by now and could support myself without the trekking pole.

Osla.

   I thus made the phone call to my parents, knowing that I wouldn't be able to do so again until a long time. These are the moments when you feel extremely emotional and question your reasoning as to why leave civilization and go about. I wore my dark sunglasses to hide away a couple of tears from my fellow trek mates and assured my parents and my brother that I'm alright and would call back soon. My only regret for that day was not informing my girlfriend Shweta and my good friends Nayan and Arvind of my well being. It had been several days I had spoken to any of them. Given the terrible news of devastating earthquakes in Nepal the same time we were trekking by my parents, I knew they would be worried. But physical weakness and urging from people waiting to call their kin after me clouded my common sense and I decided to leave. I repent that decision to this day. Eventually my brother informed them, but my lack of communication must have caused them a few extra hours of anxiety.
   Anyway, I left Osla and decided I wanted to make it to our campsite, Camp 3, at Calcutti Dhar within 3 hours. Walking over sheer valleys fills you up with a thrilling sense. The views were astonishing. Every now and then I would stop, admire the fact that we were indeed getting close to the snow and click photos for memories' sake. A flat clearing of trees serves as a halting point to give our tired legs some rest. But the ominous black clouds far away meant rain was fast approaching. Spurred on by imaginations of wet boots, rain-soaked bags and slippery trails leading to the river a kilometre below us, we left the halting point. But reality was far worse.

Camp 3 at Calcutti Dhar.

   Rainfall began as soon as we were covered by clouds. There was something strange about it; it felt like each drop was poking into our flesh. That is when one of my trek mates caught a few drops in his hand and showed them to me. "Ice!", he yelled - It was hailing. Luckily a shelter wasn't too far away that served tea, biscuits and Maggi and we happily ducked into it. One by one everyone began trickling in and the last person was drenched head to toe. Nitin showed tremendous courage and leadership when he rushed down to help the trekkers still not in sight, making sure all were safe. That was just one of the moments where he showed us his competency.
   It hadn't stopped hailing. But it was predicted to get worse now. I prayed for a little sunshine, but just like back home, nature had its own plans. Landslides in Uttarakhand are ravaging and we were right in the middle of a high risk zone. Fear being our motivator, we went ahead. The first few minutes were terrible. Hailing moderately but steadily, the winds made the cold weather even colder. How I longed the comforts of a cozy bed, dry clothing and a warm blanket! Being excited about the Himalayan cold is one thing; experiencing the extreme is quite another. By 2 p.m., I stumbled in into my tent and took my boots off. Instantly I felt colder in my feet and zipped up the tent. Putting on an extra layer of socks, I felt grateful to have made safely to Camp 3 and that I would no longer have to endure the harsh climate, at least for a couple of hours.
   Nitin called out for us for lunch and a collective moan indicated the general mood of our group; none of us wanted to leave the relative comforts of our tents. Vishal even skipped a meal just so he could lie inside his sleeping bag. I, however, was hungry as hell. Finally, I ran back to my tent, kicked off my boots once again and vowed not to leave the tent unless there was an emergency. I could hardly see a few metres outside my tent. This was probably the worst time someone could get nature's call.
   At 3:30 p.m., as suddenly as the rains had arrived, they disappeared. The insides of the tent became unbearably hot and we started peeling off layer after layer of clothing until most of us were left with T-shirts and track pants. We stepped out and saw the clouds wafting towards Osla. Good luck to the people there! The clearing of weather coincided with the return of enthusiasm in our group. We began chatting, feeling proud of having survived the worst we'd seen so far in our trek and enjoyed the sight of snow peaks that you could almost touch.

Sunset as seen from Camp 3.

   But nature showed us who has the last laugh. The weather turned at 5 p.m. and we crowded into the dinner tent for our shot of caffeine. Tea was served and in order to pass time, we played Mafia, an immensely popular card game. But my mind kept drifting back to the cold. My hands and feet were cold and I was afraid I hadn't carried enough insulation for them. The thermometer read 5 degrees at 7 p.m; it was expected to get colder. Dinner was a usual affair, but when your hot sabzi becomes cold in less than 30 seconds, you know it is bloody cold out there. 8 p.m. and I'm in my sleeping bag, ready to sleep with howling winds outside.

"The time is 2:45 a.m. You are snuggled as far as possible into your sleeping bag. It's warm and comfortable in there, but something is disturbing. With clumsy movements, you move out from your bag, turn on your headlamp and realize your head was resting on the cold floor of your Quechua tent; the Rain Poncho you had been using as a pillow has slipped. Checking the temperature, it is a finger-numbing zero degrees. Any time spent outside the confines of your sleeping bag sends shivers across your body. As your senses begin to get sharper the more you stay awake, you hear the rains falling outside. But it's much louder; it's a hailstorm. At this temperature, the rain freezes before hitting the ground. With your makeshift pillow now in place, you snake your way back into the sleeping bag, pulling it up as far as your ears. You want to catch some quality sleep before dawn; today is the Summit Day."

Day 5 :
   The wake up call was earlier than usual. Hot glasses of  lemon tea were offered to us at 4:45 a.m. Most of us would take an hour to get ready and 6 a.m. was the time to begin our summit push. It was estimated to be a 5 hour journey one-way, from Camp 3 to Har Ki Doon and having experienced the glimpses of Himalayan rage the previous day, I personally was inclined to return to camp by 3 p.m. It is said that during the monsoon and winters, such hailstorms last several weeks without a break. Quite a sight it must be! In the pre-dawn light, we left for the one final ascent of this adventure. The path was a trail cut out on the side of the hillock with a steady gradual ascent. The first rays of the Sun felt heavenly to our cold-smacked faces but we soon entered a jungle, thus essentially blocking out all sunlight. We witnessed the first patch of snow at around 9:30 a.m. and like children running towards their Diwali gifts, we darted for our first encounter. It was old, hardened snow, but it was good to see any snow. And then Nitin told us we would be getting even more of it, maybe even fresh, at the top. That filled us all up and we were raring to go.

Halt on the way to summit.

   I, as usual, was too impatient to wait and proceeded. A frozen glacier was the first true snow and ice experience for me. Crossing it gave me a sense of courage to keep moving. At around 10 a.m., I could set sights on the Summit slope. The dense jungle gave way to a clearing. Other trekking companies had set up their tents this far up. At the far end of this clearing, a gentle slope rose to a few lodges and that was it. Walking through the snow, listening to the gentle flow of a river next to me, I slowly made it to the top. This it it.
   3,500 metres / 11,500 feet above Mean Sea Level, I had made it. The clear skies allowed me to gaze at the snow clad mountains as far as I could see. Even through my dark sunglasses, I could make out their white tops shining brilliantly in the Sun. It was only after I turned around that I saw others climbing behind me; I was the first one from my team to summit. If the view above was fascinating, the view below was unbeatable. Across the entire base of the valley stretched a sheet of snow and ice. This was the Jaundhar Glacier. Origin to so many rivers, it stretched beyond vision deep into the valley. Like an excited kid, I hastily pulled out my camera and began clicking photographs. Sitting down, enjoying the sights, I could hear fellow trekkers yell out victory signs, thump each other in the chest and eventually settle down to catch their breaths.

Summit of Har Ki Doon. Seen here are Swargarohini, Black Peak and Jaundhar Glacier.

   Immediately above my relaxing spot was a rock hill about 200 metres high. It looked remarkably difficult, with no definite route to the top. With tingling excitement, I asked Nitin if I could climb up. An extremely sporting person, he simply smiled and I got my answer. I got to work, trying to find some footing and a good hand hold, in that order. I was about halfway up when I noticed a few bushes I could use as a hand hold. But the moment I grabbed them and pulled myself upwards, the bushes tore from their roots and I came sliding down a few metres. The only support I had now was my tummy that was holding me against a sharp rocky outcrop. I'm not sure whether shouts from below distracted me or a buzzing bee, but I felt scared at that moment. Nevertheless, I continued and used a different route to ascend, one that I hadn't seen before my beat-skipping moment. Climbing to the top, the view was even more beautiful with a 360 degree view of peaks. I could clearly see the massive Swargarohini and Black Peak, famed for their mythology and difficulty respectively. Immensely satisfied at the efforts, I decided to descend down and catch some sleep in some shade. It would be a long descent to Camp 3.
   I reached Camp 3 at 3:15 p.m. despite losing my way and picking the wrong track. Yet again, I was the first one. It thrilled me to realize I could endure nature's onslaughts and yet make progress. Tiredness set in after the adrenaline had worn off and it was beginning to get cold. But it was great to have achieved the summit and return safely before the weather had turned. The remaining day was routine. We had acclimatized partly to the weather, feeling cold but no longer shivering and rubbing our palms against the other. It had been a good day.

Days 6-8 :

   I descended down to Camp 2 in less than 3 hours and by now I was beginning to feel excited about running ahead of everyone else despite the heavy backpack. The day was spent resting and playing countless games of Mafia. Night time was special, since we made a small celebratory bonfire and let the warmth seep in.
   The next day was the final trekking day. We proceeded from Camp 2 to Base Camp skipping Camp 1. Taluka onwards, we enjoyed the thrill of riding on top of a jeep. We checked in into a Guest House at Sankri. Civilization had never felt this good! You appreciate the hot water, clean clothes and a warm springy bed that you can jump upon! Life felt a lot better now.
   We left for Dehradun early the next day. With networks becoming available to our cell phones, the familiar buzzing and ringing was music to my ears. I informed my family and friends of my whereabouts and finally felt relieved of my guilt of not having done so before. Reaching Dehradun, I checked into a hotel and began relaxing. A warm shower and a television were starters to an evening of reminiscing memories.

Epilogue :

   Exploring the Himalayas was my dream ever since I visited Kedarnath in 2012 and Rohtang Pass in the Himachal in 2013. When this dream finally materialized, I had the opportunity to think about so many people I must be thankful to. It hasn't been without its share of difficulties. I had almost given up hope on the Himalayan Dream when my first trek got cancelled due to bad weather. But somehow the pieces fell into place and it encourages me to take on further endeavors in the future. This trek has given me countless lessons. The two most important ones have been that someone will always be there to help you, no matter how difficult the situation might be; be it landing in a new city and having no clue about where to stay to having a torn bag, and the second lesson : always follow your dreams.

Thank you dear reader! Comments, Suggestions and Questions welcome. For more photographs, please scroll down.

Rhishikesh Deshpande,
20, Medical Student, Blogger, Trekker, Basketball Fanatic,
Mumbai, India.
Connect with me on Facebook / YouTube : Rhishikesh Deshpande ;
Instagram : rd_1994
E-mail : rdeshpande1994@gmail.com

         

Furry Beings.

Mid-morning temperature at Camp 3.

All photographs clicked by the author himself from Fujifilm Finepix S4800 and OnePlus One.