10 am. Day 8. The third consecutive day on the Miyar Glacier The glare was blinding and the UV protect glasses were proving to be inadequate to deal with the bright sunlight which the ice on the glacier scattered all around. The mountains, plastered with ice and hanging glaciers reflected the light and offered no relief either. At 5150 metres above sea level the clear sunny day was turning out to be a torture. Sitting inside our Nylon tent did little to help as the light was too bright and the heat inside the tent was unbearable. Could not decide what was bothering us more…the sun or the snow…The porters complained of headache and wanted tablets. They were wearing shades sold for 20 Rupees on the pavements of Manali which are not designed for a glacier walk. Even a brief exposure can lead to snow blindness in these conditions.
We had started the day hoping to quickly cross the last few kilometres of the glacier, climb the 300 foot snow slope to the top of the 5450 metres high Kang La pass and go over to the Zanskar side. The delayed start caused by general lethargy resulted in the loosening of the surface snow and the resultant difficulty in making our way forward. The whole team was struggling on the soft snow, a few hundred metres away from the start of the steep snow slope leading to the pass. We also had to tackle huge melt water streams known as 'Moulins' which flow at an incredible speed and can suck one into the bowels of the glacier if one were unfortunate enough to slip and land into one...
A quick decision to stop moving for the day saw us setting up camp right in the middle of the glacier between 2 small crevasses. There was no melt water flowing nearby forcing us to melt ice using some black polythene sacks to accelerate the melting in the blazing sun. We eventually managed to melt nearly 25 litres, enough to drink and cook.
12 noon . Day 4. 1st day on the terminal moraine of the Miyar Glacier. A bizarre world of rocks, rocks of sizes varying from a grain of sand to the size of a double decker bus, all perched loosely on unstable ice pedestals ready to tumble without warning. There were glacier melt water ponds of light green colour and dark ice peeped through the rubble here and there. The walk lasted 9 hours in all. That is 9 hours of hopping from boulder to boulder, hoping that they wouldn’t move or give way under your feet. Each step was exhausting as the effort involved in maintaining your balance started telling on the knees and ankles. We stared ahead to see how far the moraine went and gave up when we couldn’t see the end. After a few hours fatigue made us careless and each one of us lost our balance and fell a few times. The effort to stop our fall left us bruised all over. All of a sudden as if in a dream the rocks disappeared giving way to a dark green, hard ice which was slightly slippery due to the time of the day. A couple of kilometres on the ice road brought us to the end of the day’s walk, to our icy camp site surrounded by towering pinnacles and their ice falls. Surreal!
Day 1 : We had started walking from a village called Urgos which can be reached from Manali via Rohtang, Tandi, and Udaipur. An entire day’s drive along the Chandra Valley in Lahaul after a quick hop across the Rohtang brought us to Udaipur and we visited the local temple which had some interesting carvings on wood depicting scenes from Vishnu's ten incarnations and the great Epic, Mahabharata. The head priest of the temple gave us a guided tour of sorts explaining each carved panel.
Our porters for the trip accompanied us from Manali and their Sirdar, Rang Bahadur from Nepal, couldn't stay awake in the moving vehicle. He kept falling on Nagi and Puni. A sudden lurch made him hit his head violently on the front seat and he was cured and was wide awake after that.
We got dropped near Urgos, under the shadow of the 6500 mtr high Menthosa peak. We were asked to show our IDs and write down our details in a register at the last police check post at a village called Tingrit. Little kids were running about having a good time. The cop on duty was in his pyjamas and strangely every cop at every check post was in pyjamas or track pants. Uniforms meant nothing here.
Here the valley is lush green, carpeted with flowers of all hues, dotted with villages and alpine meadows. A few groups of elderly European trekkers were in the valley just to see the flower strewn slopes. Nothing to indicate the perilous moraine ahead, lying in wait.
We had brought with us a kitchen tent which also served as the tent for porters. We had a kerosene stove which the porters used for cooking. We had two light weight MSR stoves that use petrol and are fuel efficient. The arrangement was that the porters will cook their food while we manage our cooking. Puni, being an experienced trekker and a meticulous cook rolled into one, took charge of the cooking on behalf of the team. The staple was rice and moong dal purchased in Manali alongwith other essentials and spices. We also managed to cook vegetables a few days but on the glacier we just had quick meals including a dinner of Maggi. Soup was a daily feature and of course the endless cups of tea.
7am. Day 7. After a night of sub zero temperature, we were getting ready to scale the final obstacle which stood between us and the Zanskar valley. The 5450 metre high Kang La pass with its huge steep ice slopes leading to the top. The previous evening we had witnessed a massive avalanche when a huge chunk of a hanging glacier decided to end it all. The noise sounded like a bomb going off and it echoed ominously across the valley. The biting cold seeped right through our light weight mattresses making us regret our decision of not carrying the slightly heavier, inflatable Thermarests.
Three days on the ice had made us used to the terrain and we were bursting with confidence this morning. Before we could start walking we were overtaken by the Dutch group which was in the Valley. Disciplined and organised, they were marching in a neat row, roped up, wearing harnesses, gaiters and carrying two ski poles to support themselves. Their porters were moving in unison, rapidly over the steep snow. We were sipping tea as they went past us and we hurriedly broke camp. The sun was shining over the entire valley and there were no traces of any clouds or mist. The snow was firm and our shoes could bite into it and get a grip. We did not feel the need for ropes or crampons etc.
We just set off casually making our way up the slope. A slip and fall would have meant a long glissade to the glacier and perhaps a drop into one of the waiting crevasses. An hour and a half of hard snow walk brought us to the top of the slope adorned with colourful prayer flags, marking the pass. Some group photos later we quietly roped up along with our porters to deal with the steep and very long descent on the snow slopes on the Zanskar side of the pass. Melting snow and hidden crevasses made progress slow. A two hour struggle saw us at the end of the snow slope, getting rid of the rope.
Another steep section, this time on the rocky moraine saw us making our way down carefully, losing altitude all the while. The next camp on the Zanskar side was at a height of 4400 metres. We had descended almost a 1000 vertical metres from the pass. As we dropped anchor and enjoyed a well earned rest, we watched the other group needlessly trying to cross the river. It was too late in the day for that and as we expected one of the guides lost his balance and fell into the torrent but reappeared and managed to extricate himself from the currents, shaken and stirred. We dozed off thinking about the next days walk which would take us down all the way down to the Tsarap Chu near the Bardan Gompa about 15 kms from Padum, the administrative HQ of Zanskar. Au unending trail brought us down to the river close to Bardan Gompa and a short walk of a few kilometres on the new unmetalled road to Padum left us thirsty and tired. We met a French family walking in the opposite direction who were thrilled to see that most of our gear was French make. They then enquired about the pass which they intended to do in the reverse direction. We wished them luck and dragged ourselves to a police check post near Bardan Gompa. The cop, in bright red pyjamas, offered to use his wireless set and call for a vehicle from Padum to come and pick us up. We quickly bought the idea as our own vehicle was nowhere to be seen and a four hour walk in the hot sun, on a charmless road did not look very appealing.
Day 10. Padum is a small town in the middle of nowhere which could pass off for a Central Asian Silk Route town but for the number of migrant workers from Dehradun who do everything from managing hotels and restaurants to running Hair Dressing saloons. I have been to Padum a number of times in the last 20 years although the last time was 1995. The town seems to have grown, with more houses and hotels crowding the place and bustling bazaars and innumerable vehicles added to the chaos. Another difference from the olden days is that the telecom revolution has taken Padum into its wake as well. We have BSNL offering GSM services and Internet Cafes keep you connected. It does somewhat resemble Samarkhand in the fading light, with the crowds and dust. The Punjabi dhabas run by the UP bhaiyyas bring you back to reality though.
Day 11. We drove to Rangdum Gompa the starting point for the 2nd leg of the trek. This time the trail would take us over the Ladakh range into the Indus Valley. The drive from Padum took us over the picturesque Pensi La pass, from where we observed the magnificent Durung Durung Glacier and dropped us at Rangdum Gompa on the banks of the Sankpoo river. Enroute we stopped at a Dokcha or a local Dairy farm of sorts. Since there are no shops along the 120 kilometre road, we decided to check if we could get tea here. There were a few women who were running the show and a lot of cows and yaks. They invited us into their hut and seated us aroung the stove in their kitchen. We were served the Tibetan salt tea with a dollop of yak butter to improve the flavour and aroma. We also tasted fresh curds and a kind of dried cheese. As a parting gift they gave us a generous quantities of the cheese which Puni managed to turn into a delicious side dish during our trek in the Kanji area.
Upon reaching Rangdum, we spent an interesting day looking for 5 donkeys and 2 men. They were not near the Gompa as planned hence we made our way to the Rangdum village 7 kms away. We could see several donkeys grazing but no donkey men. We asked in the village and they confirmed that no 2 men were in the village with 5 donkeys. Before we could wring our hands in despair, from inside a restaurant, a man walked out, looking dapper wearing shades and a cowboy hat for which he was promptly named Brad Pitt. Brad declared that he was the man who had replaced our donkey man due to a hundred reasons. He however had no donkeys to show but had a fine looking horse with a bell round its neck and a young yak. He had an assistant with him, a young man from Rangdum, studying in Manali and fond of latest hindi film numbers. We called him Leo Di Caprio
There was military presence near the Gompa entrance. A soldier stood behind a fortified entrance pointing an automatic rifle of sorts. This was weird and quite puzzling. As we waited for Brad Pitt to return with the pack animals, the armed sentry walked upto us and asked what we were doing in that god forsaken place. We said that we were on vacation, enjoying the mountain scenery. With a wry smile he hissed that he could not understand what made us leave Bangalore and come all the way to Rangdum. He then said that he was from Anantapur, about 3 hours from Bangalore by train. That brought us closer and he invited us into the barracks. We had the pleasure of meeting a few other Jawans who were equally miserable, stationed there. A few years ago, a few militants had walked into Bardan from Kishtwar over a high pass and had gunned down three Lamas. The Army decided to open a small station there to protect the Gompa from further attacks. The faujis were unhappy about everything from their outfit to their rations, from the weather conditions to the lack of oxygen. They said that in winter the Gompa was cut off from the rest of the world as the region gets buried under tons of snow. That leaves them without supplies for days on end. Most of all they missed the communication link. There was no wireless or telephone facility for the poor fellows stationed up there. We were about to start showing signs of cracking under the strain, when Brad and Di Caprio showed up and we started putting the loads on the Yak and the horse. Once packed, we quietly followed the Kanji Nala which flowed from the gorge due north of Rangdum and were glad to put a few kilometres between ourselves and the homesick fauji friends.
Day 12 Kanji Nala 5.30 pm LOST. The roar of the raging river was making it difficult to hear anything else. Cold winds started whipping the mountainside as the sunlight began to fade fast. I along with Nagi waited for Puni to show up. We were near a crossing where a log or something ought to have been there as a makeshift bridge. No log was present and the river was a seething torrent. We thought that perhaps our support team had forded this stream much earlier when the water was low. Maybe they went up the opposite ridge and found a nice camp site. We got no answers from anywhere. Puni approached the descent towards the river and slowly walked down. After a quick discussion he suggested that if the support team has not crossed the stream then they would have to camp somewhere on our side of the river. Where we stood the ravine was very narrow and there was no space to camp. We went along the river upstream for a hundred metres and saw some foot prints and hoof marks on the sand in the river bed. A little beyond that point the river was taking up the entire valley floor with no space to walk. Puni suggested that perhaps the others went upstream when the water was low. The only thing to do was to go further and look for our team . The only option was to climb the slope on the true left bank of the river and get onto the ridge. We struggled up over massive piles of loose rocks which slipped under our feet as we made our way to about a 100 ft above the river. The ridge became very steep and the loose rocks made it impossible to go any further without risking a drop down into the river. Puni dropped his sack, picked up a ski pole and made his way gingerly over the loose rocks while I waited with Nagi. Puni was soon out of sight and the sun sank lower leaving us cold and tired. After about 30 minutes we could see Puni coming back slowly. He shook his head to convey that something was seriously wrong. This could not be the valley as there were no camping spots along the river as far as he could see.
What if they are on the other side of the river. We slowly went down to the river and I decided to take a chance and leap across the river. A short sprint saw me leaping from a big flat boulder to another one on the other side of the river. No problems…I asked the others to give it a shot and all of us were safely on the other side. We slogged up the slope and reached the top of the ridge only to realise that there was no trace of any horses or humans. There was no trail either. We were really and truly LOST. The mountains scenery looked as wild as it was and the setting sun added to the evening colour. We were all too tired and on the verge of panicking that we completely ignored the visual treat. All we had with us was our backpacks, which had our woollens. No food, no water, no sleeping bags and no tent.
Darkness was descending fast and we took the decision to retrace our steps to whatever extent possible before nightfall. We ran back to the river and leapt across it once again and started walking back on the trail. After about 20 minutes of very brisk walking we reached a small stream with clean water. We filled our water bottles so that we will at least have water to drink. We started walking on the trail as fast as we could unmindful of the gradient or the steep drop to river. The fear of getting benighted on the exposed ridge was greater than anything else. As it became difficult to discern anything in the last bit of light we saw an abandoned shepherd hut a few hundred feet below the trail close to a confluence. We decided to reach that to try and spend the night there. 7.30 pm and the temperature was already close to freezing. We staggered into the roofless hut and looked around. There was plenty of fuel to burn as the place was strewn with dried yak dung. We made ourselves comfortable by wearing whatever we could find in our sacks. We also managed to fish out a pack of Haldiram’s. Inky blackness descended over the hut as there was no moon at that hour. We took out our head lamps and started preparing the fire place. Puni stood up and flashed his lamp in all directions switching it off and on sending a distress signal of sorts before settling down. We had the whole night ahead of us to be spent without our gear at 4500 Mts above sea level. We were also apprehensive about the local fauna as we had heard stories of the local bear population being very active.
It is strange how a nice beautiful place can become a totally inhospitable and dangerous one within minutes.
An hour into the night…still munching on the Haldiram’s and sipping cold water we thought of where we could have gone wrong. We debated on the possibility of having over shot the campsite or missing a turn and so on when a faint whistle pierced the night sky. Someone had seen our head lamp distress signal. We shouted back and the whistling grew louder. We then the heard the familiar tinkling of the bell on our horse’s neck and the voices of Brad Pitt and his assistant calling our names. We answered and they reached the hut. Brad said that they had reached the camp and waited for us and when we didn’t reach until late evening they had decided to look for us. After going back and forth and just before calling off the search in total darkness they happened to see our signal. The entire party made its way over treacherous terrain in darkness with the deep ravine on one side. An hour and half of stumbling in the dark with a lot of uphill and downhill brought us close to the river bank and our campsite at 9.30 pm.
We had been on the move since 8 am that day. We pitched our tent and were ready to drop when Brad and his assistant called us to offer hot soup. Puni managed to cook something really fast and as we were famished we did not bother to find out what it was and quickly polished it off and hit the sack after deciding that the next day would be a rest day.
At some point on the trail we had to leave the prominent path and follow a steeply dropping trail, not easy to discern, to the river bank inside the canyon. We had missed the turn.
Day 14. The climb to Kanji La at 5150 metres was a 1000 metre slog from the river, over unending slopes of scree. The last 100 metres was the most difficult with every step requiring an enormous effort. We looked like Frodo and Sam going up the last few metres of Mt. Doom in Mordor. Nagi, who is a marathon runner and a mountain bike enthusiast had huge reserves of strength stored away and moved up at a steady pace and was soon standing on the pass. I was few steps behind him when we had started the climb but I took more frequent and longer breaks and ended up almost a good 500 metres behind him. I summoned the last bit of strength left in my body to complete the final push and was finally sitting on the windy Kanji La pass overlooking the Karakorams in the north. We could clearly see Nanga Parbat and K2 the two big giants in the Pakistan controlled Karakorams.
Puni, the fittest in the group, arrived a few minutes later. Puni likes to spend more time on the trail, observe the surroundings well and take wonderful pictures. This kind of makes him slow on the trail but that is the way he likes it and he is rewarded with wildlife sightings and such. We greeted a French team which had reached the top from the other side and started our descent which turned out to be a small trail clinging to the ridge and high above the moraine of the glacier which went down from Kanji La. The last section involved a hair raising descent of 400 metres from the ridge top to the river bed, totally exposed at places. The mountains around were dry and rocky with their entrails exposed by eons of erosion by wind and water. Finding a camp with drinking water was difficult and we walked for over 3 hours to find a suitable place. The river water gets murky as day progresses becomes totally silted and unusable.
Day 15. The last day was a walk along the Kong nala which was took the entire valley floor forcing us to walk on water crossing the river a couple of dozen times. The gorge was breathtaking and reminded us of the ravines of “McKenna’s Gold”. Towering rock walls on either side and huge rock sentinels standing guard.
Kanji village was reached in due course. We went to Brad’s house and waited for our taxi to turn up. Brad served us Chang and Butter tea. We ignored the latter and imbibed the former with gusto. An important Lama was in town and all the locals were dressed up in their finery to meet him carrying bouquets of plastic flowers. Families from the nearby villages had driven down to Kanji. A ceremonial send off to the Lama in the blazing afternoon sun concluded what was a colourful event. Brad then insisted on serving us a sumptuous lunch of Rice and Spinach curry. We bid goodbye to the family and thanked Brad for his hospitality when our ride arrived from Leh. The drive along the newly blasted road to Heniskut was eventless and the desert of Ladakh dominated the scenery with towering mountains of different hues.
The 7 hour jeep ride on the Srinagar Leh road brought us to Leh which wore a festive look with a lot of firangs and locals walking around. We checked into a hotel and took our first hot shower in days. A nice evening with a chilled beer and hot dinner brought the curtains down on an exciting and eventful trek
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Pics by Sundar and Punit Mehta
