It's easier if you are a man because:
a) you needn't squat and
b) your scan span goes further, so you can guard your privacy easily and efficiently.
And anyway zipping up is faster than pulling up. Right?
We, the women folk, have to rely on others to be our scanners. It's all about trust. You trust that your scanners will ward off wanderers and keep your dignity in tact. You trust that they won't put a sign up to say: BIG rock- good phone reception and point the arrow head in your general, squatted direction!
So when we reached Patar Nachauni and spotted big boulders, our bursting bladders ordered us to find spots to squirt. This was also the last spot for any phone reception. While some of us clambered down to squat, others climbed up to the highest point and called home to inform that we were alive and well and that they won't hear from us for the next 24-30 hours or so, as there would be no phone reception after this point.
Sharp incline and rocky terrain tested the trekkers' strength and will. While some in the group suffered from symptoms of altitude sickness (breathlessness, dizziness etc.) others managed by pacing their stride.
When the going gets tough, trust yourself.
Thick fog descended and all you could see was the next bit to climb. In a way, the fog helped. I was forced to focus on just the patch I could see in front of me. It made the climb easier.
Sometimes, it's best to take the next step and not worry about the bigger picture.
Climb. Stop. Breathe.
The rhythm lulled me into oblivion. I was alone but didn't feel lonely. It felt like I was back on my yoga mat -- in sync with myself, my breath, my body, my soul.
And every now and then, I'd stop to:
The fog engulfed the terrain. It gobbled up the trekkers behind me. For the duration of this laborious climb, I trekked alone.
Was it wise?
In hindsight: NO!
Trekking as a group requires trust. We trust our guides to keep us safe. But, we also trust each other to look out for us.
I got lost in myself. It's okay to do that when one is on a solo trek, but not when you are part of a group.
'Anything could've happened.' I was told. 'You could've twisted your ankle.'
Sense was knocked into me.
I could see the folly of my ways.
Not once during that 4 km stretch, did I think of anything or anyone-- not even my son. When I try to recall that time, it feels as pure as silence. There was magic and I think I felt it.
If I were single and if I had no worldly ties, I'd go on solo treks all the time. In fact, I met one such man one morning in a tea stall in Bedni.
He's 55. He's single. He lives and works in Kolkatta. He picks a trek that calls to him from trekking magazines.
'You must be reaching Nirvana.' I remarked.
'Far from it.' he said. 'I still like money. Still need to earn it to be able to afford treks. But only when I come here, I feel truly alive.'
Trekking is as much about such chance encounters as it is about traipsing through tricky terrain and soaking in sunsets.
Kalu Vinayak temple marks the end of the steep ascent.
It's all downhill from here till we reach Bhagwabasa.
According to a guide I overheard, people take a vow to do the parikrama with the statue of Ganesh (looks pretty heavy to me).
I waited here for the rest of my team to catch up.
The duality of going solo and being part of a team can rip you apart. It isn't easy. But a balance can be achieved.
Lessons learnt today will come in handy tomorrow at 2 am when we will set out on the most treacherous climb I've ever attempted.
But before we go there, let me show you our camp site for the last day...
Basically, once you found a spot where the rocks poked you the least through your sleeping back and through the mat below it, you lay still -- like a mummy.
The good news was that we had to be up around 2 am to get ready for the climb.
'We will be preparing porridge and you all will eat some before we head out.' announced Chauhan, our guide. ' You will all need the energy.'
We groaned collectively. Who in their right mind was going to eat porridge at 2 am?
But we all did. And relished it. And asked for more. It was the most delicious sweet porridge (sans milk, but stuffed full of energy boosting almonds, cashews and raisins), I've ever tasted in my life. Yum!
Clad in all the warm layers we were carrying, we stood ready on the grey stones. An early start ensures safety, we were told. Melting snow makes climbing dangerous.
Torches -- Check
Last loo run ---Check... hold on a tick! Who's been using our toilet tent?
This is turning out to be like Goldilocks in the Himalayas, after all.
Bhagwabasa is the last and only campsite before Roopkund, it gets busy. As trekkers, we trust that other groups would use their toilet tents (even if they are pitched a bit further). We also trust that trekking companies who bring large groups (almost 30 in one) to the Himalayas would ensure that their 'groupies' observe certain civil etiquette to make the experience pleasant for all.
Sadly, that's not the case.
Toilet tent misuse may be overlooked when the terrain is tough and the cold is biting, but there is no excuse whatsoever to litter.
Come on people, wake up! Take your trash with you. It's not rocket science. Leave only your footprints behind-- the Himalayas don't need your plastic sweet wrappers, discarded cans and bottles-- take them home with you and then recycle them. Or better still, don't bring plastic with you.
Can we trust ourselves to keep the Himalayas safe and clean and litter free for the generations who will come after us?
A clean India is not impossible to achieve.
This kind of behaviour gets my goat. TV and radio ads can blast out 'Swachch Bharat' or 'Clean India' slogans till the cows come home, but India can be clean only if the people who live there take care of their trash like it's their responsibility and not just the government's.
Back to the trek, then:
It was dark. It was damp. But, at least the rain had stopped. Had it been raining, we wouldn't have carried on.
Instructions were very clear-- we keep pace with each other and we keep hydrated.
The first light...
We stopped to put crampons and gaiters on just as the sun was streaking the sky red.
Jagat (the best guide in the world, according to my son) who is also a minefield of information about peaks and everything else used his ice-pick to claw out a foot hold, the person behind him would put his foot in and then the next, and so on. The progress was slow but steady.
I reached the top and took my camera out.
We DID it!!!
photo courtesy: Rajat:)
Temple at Roopkund Lake.
Splitting headaches (thanks to altitude adjustment) greeted us back in Baghwabasa when we reached at around 10 am. Strong cups of tea and a little rest sorted us out. The day had only just begun and we had to make our way back to Bedni.
Come along and watch the sun light up the Himalayas; the abode of snow ('him' means snow and 'alaya' means abode).
The same temple (Kalu Vinayak) on our way back, when the sun shone in the bright blue sky.
I met a local family who were carrying these flowers as an offering for the temple at Roopkund. They were climbing up the path like you and I stroll in a mall-- totally chilled!
these flowers have an amazing scent and they paint the mountainside purple.
But look what happened almost as soon as we reached Bedni -- the sun smiled and shone through the blanket of clouds.
Our beloved toilet tents.
If I tell you that we saw yellow daisies next to the hole in the ground the next morning, will you believe me?
Well, it's true:)
A clear morning the next day-- Good:)
All we had to do was walk downhill for about 12 hours through a thick forest of Juniper, Pine, Oak and Rhododendron to reach the point where a vehicle would pick us up.
That should be easy, right?
If, like me, you are fascinated by myths and legends, then check this link out:
Hope to see you all soon. Enjoy your weekend
a TRASH CAN!
RECYCLE, if you can.
In case you missed part 1 of this trek, here it is: