Gurez Valley and the legend of Habba Khatoon

 

 

Gurez Valley is enigmatic. the Valley  doesn't know whether it wants to be stark and stony like Leh, or lush and green as in the rest of Kaskmir, so I guess it is a bit of both. Bare and rocky on one side and verdant pines on the other. But then I am getting ahead of myself...

About six hours from Srinagar, via Wular Lake (arguably one of the largest sweet-water lakes in the country) lies the Gurez Valley.  After about an hour's drive along flat country we stated climbing after Bandipore till we came to the shrine of Peer Baba, where we stopped to matha teko, literally bow our heads to the ground in deference to the Peer.

A liitle further we came to the Razdan Pass, which at 11,672 feet (about 3558 metres) was the highest point on our journey. Then a descent of about two hours brought us to the Kishenganga river and the dam across it.  The police and military were now apparent and numerous check-posts later we reached Dawar Village. At these check-posts, no one was rude or peremptory considering the pressure on those manning them, they simply told us what we could or could not do - fair enough.

Dawar Village is one of the few places with expert wooden joinery that we saw, the wood keeps houses cool in summer and warm in winter.  As it is across the Razdan Pass which closes in winter due to the heavy snowfall, it is also one of the difficult villages to access and far off from the regular tourist track. Trekking tourism is just arriving. 

There is a lot of wood used in construction here, till recently locals were permitted to use trees, now most houses are made of brick and mortar, with GI sheets on the roof. I was mesmerised by this wooden architecture and took many photographs.

Houses, anywhere in India, but more so in inaccessible places, use a lot of local material, but as connectivity has improved, modern materials are more evident. We saw heavy earth-moving equipment being used in construction. Most people near a road or suitable location, is making the ubiquitous homestay, a convenience of debatable  value.

As the sun got lower a single conical feature was illuminated, Habba Khatoon.  She was a lady who was brought up here and is the subject of much legend and lore. The banks of the Kishenganga are now very littered with the detritus of 'modern' life which the village is not equipped to remove. It is a matter of time that this beautiful place goes the way of so many hill-stations.

Basav and I took a walk along the banks and bed of the Kishenganga, and a lot of fauna was evident can be seen from these recent pugmarks of a Red Fox.

The Himalayan Black Bear population has also increased and no fence can hold them back from a feast young, tender millet, getting aggressive if prevented  The farmers here uproot the millet before it ripens and use it as cattle fodder to avoid the bears.

A stream (chashma) flows from the Habba Khatoon mountain to the the Kishenganga River, a few metres away.  This chashma has many mythical meanings, but the thing that I experienced is that its very, very cold and pure.

That we had gone when it was still raining meant moss everywhere. The weather here is fickle (as it is everywhere in the mountains), from bright sunshine one moment to thunder, lightning and pouring rain the next. But the beauty of the mountains lies in this, the play or the lack of light on a wild hillside.

A valley that offers true solitude can provide an exhilarating experience for the soul. Just don't go there alone...

  
 

Srignagar - Houseboat on Nigeen Lake and watching the world go by

 

As the philospher Lao Tzu said "Make your heart like a lake with calm, still surface and great depths of kindness"

So Basav, my friend, and I, having not booked a place to stay in Srinagar on our last night there, decided to stay on a houseboat on Nigeen Lake. This Lake had been recommended by Basav's friend, and what a recommendation it was, serene, calm and relatively off the beaten track of Dal Lake which is much more commercial.

Having reached after lunch, we watched the world go by from the verandah of the houseboat in the remaining part of the day. There was so much to see, men fishing from a boat in the placid waters of the lake, Common Moorhen scurrying about, daintily stepping on lotus leaves and ......

...the ubiquitous boats in the reflection of the trees by the water's edge. Local people going about their business.

There was a mountain range opposite the lake, watching the clouds against these mountains and house boats in the foreground was a delight. 

These houseboats are made of pine and the part underwater resists getting soggy, these floating houses last for decades, finally (and sadly) being moored in a little backwater to house migrant labour. Each houseboat is exquisitely but differently carved, this carving was on ours. 

The next morning we were on a boat by 0430 am, first we went to the floating vegetable market where locals buy vegetables, this market was over in an hour....

...our next stop was interestingly a bakery in which bakers (kandur) make the local bread  (Tschott).  This is eaten, amongst other delicacies, with the very popular tea and spices, kahwa, of which we must have had about ten cups a day.  The bread is baked in a kind of tandoor, and bought while it is still hot, it was  absolutely delicious. 

Then we went to the floating flower market, a veritable tourist trap where there were more photographers than boats selling flowers. A pretty sight but very touristy and crowded and soon we were away.

The lotus stem, called Nadru, is a staple food here, though expensive, it used in many Kashmiri dishes.  This plant grows on most lakes in Srinagar and the flower is a delicate pink and blooms in profusion.

The marshy land has many wooden foot-bridges and boatmen use the canals and waterways in simple uncovered boats...

...Unlike the opulent and covered shikara,, waiting for tourists later in the day.  It is too early in the morning yet and they are apparently forlorn and empty at this early hour.

The Rainawari Backwaters are interesting with some old houses with verandahs and balconies overlooking the canal.  But now the water is very littered with the detritus of 'modern' living, mainly plastic of various shapes and sizes.  Sadly as we rowed past more garbage was being thrown into the waterway.

Our boatman passed his house and so stopped a bit, Basav and I sat in the boat and watched the world go by. There were pigeons meant for racing or homing, flying around frames meant for them: people going about their daily life using the water as a thoroughfare, perched precariously (or so it seemed) at the end of their boats. Four hours later we tied up at our houseboat., and we don't know whether we were saddened or learned by the experience, maybe a bit of both.

It takes lakes and mountains to see the serenity of your own soul

Auli- Wreathed in Clouds

 

“the light spread, there were long lines of cloud in the sky and presently above them the outline of the snow peaks appeared, cold and hard as if they were made of iron; they turned from black to grey to white while the hills were still in darkness.” - Rumer Godden seemed to be describing Auli

Auli was a delightful mistake, lovely views, walks, clouds and mountains across the valley. I had given myself three days spare in the Valley of Flowers, and having not used them, I was meandering my way down, when I asked the taxi driver where could I go? Without hesitation he said "Auli", so Auli it was.

The beauty of the place was the clouds, the mountains and the interplay of the sun at different times of day.  In the mornings the clouds rose from the valleys and by about noon wreathed the mountain-tops, in the evenings the sun shone through the clouds with the peaks peeping through.

Auli is a winter sports resort, mainly for skiing, so there are at least three (possibly four) ski lift systems festooning the hillside. Taking a ride to the last stop in a ski lift, I had a drink and came down again.

I had gone "out of season" and in mid-week, so I had the entire GMVN resort to myself.  The "room with a view" had a stunning one, terraced hillsides, valleys, mountains and the ubiquitous clouds.

In front there was a mountain range with some of the higher mountains in the Himalayas visible, I know not a single one, and who cares, the sight was so breathtaking.

The sun set on my trip too soon, and it was time to go. Getting a bus early morning, and I mean really early, 4 am got me from an ethereal world to the real one in eleven hours. I couldn't have made a more lovely 'mistake'.

Beneath the moon, chilly winds blow through the pines as wisps of clouds arise. So many mountain ridges layer into each other for miles around! The valley stream is quiet and clear — I’m not done with this boundless joy.” Peter Levitt could be describing my feelings.

The Valley of Flowers- Third Time Unlucky?

 Frank Smythe was the man who identified a region that he named the "Valley of Flowers", now a protected park. He once said: “If everything we do in life is to be measured in terms of money, then life would be a very poor thing. The greater ambitions and desires of mankind are actuated by something deeper and finer than the desire to amass material wealth.”

This is so true of the Valley of Flowers.  This was the third time I went there, see my earlier blogs on the Valley of Flowers here and another here. So was I third time unlucky, read on to find out.

In the Valley of Flowers (VoF)

So I took a seat taxi from Rishikesh to Govindghat, and started walking up the nine kilometres from Pulna. I met a lot of interesting people along the way, a kathad sardar from Rohtak, we could hardly understand each other, a sardar railway employee from Indore and his two daughters, an IT professional from Delhi.

...my porter on the way up

There were a lot of Sikhs on the way, going up and down, because Hemkund Sahib at about 4000 metres, is one of the holiest Gurdwaras and many Sikhs do a pilgrimage here. There are young and old, boys and girls, many of them chanting aloud and many whispering a prayer in their hearts.

Clouds descend over Ghangariya helipad.

There is a helicopter service from Govindghat to about a kilometer short of Ghangariya. The flight takes about four minutes and there are 10-15 sorties in a day, depending on the weather. So a four or five hour trek is cut short to a few minutes if one were to take the helicopter. 

A board showing the main species of flowers put up at the forest chowkey at the entrance.  

Everyone gets a pass for three days at the VoF, but most people go up only once, (I went up twice).  At Ghangariya the path splits and one goes to Hemkund, a six kilometre vertical climb, and one goes to VoF, about four kilometres away.

Sunrise at the base of VoF

After crossing the forest chwkey, which opens for ticket sales at 7am, I walk along undulating terrain for about two kilometres.  It was here that I saw and photographed Pika last time, but this time there were probably too many people around.  I was walking along a valley and the rising sun played lovely light on the mountains around.

Gushing water in the Pushpawati River

Then I crossed a bridge across the Pushpawati River which had a lot of water due to the recent rains and snow melt. There was much more water in the river this time compared to the last two occasions I had to come here. The sound of the river is loud and the water moving fast.

The bottom of the gorge is in darkness as the sun illuminates the mountains higher up.

The contrast is wide, dark at the bottom of the gorge as the sun has yet to reach here and higher up the mountains are illuminated in sunlight. I have always been fascinated by this contrast and on every trip photograph the sunlit mountains through the dark valley.

Clouds drift across the mountain face 

The weather is totally unpredictable, bright sunshine one moment and cloudy the next. Though it was dry on the first day I went up. on the second day it was drizzling right through.

VoF, Tipra Khark and Mount Rataban in the distance.

This time there was an unusual phenomenon in that the clouds would descend up to a point on the mountain side and there they would remain. After the bridge and a steep climb of about a kilometer, one starts seeing VoF, and a sight to behold it is.

The colours in the valley change every week or so

The sight of  VoF is beautiful, it is a riot of colour, blues and purples and mauves dominate.

Pithoo at Shepherd's Rock

The sad thing is (selfish I know) that there are too many people now in the valley. The guard at the forest chowkey  told me that on an average 500-1500 people come to VoF each day. Compare this to the four or five I saw on my first visit here. I won't go into the reasons as they are controversial, selfies, pandemic, local income, tour companies all have a part to play.

Mist shrouds the mountainside outside my room.

On the second day it rained heavily the whole day, so I decided to stay in my room. I modified my plan and decided to go to the VoF after a day's break. I would go to Hemkund the day after subject to weather, but as it turned out it kept raining and I didn't go up to Hemkund Sahib having been there twice earlier. Please see my earlier blogs.

Pollen laden bee on Angelica flower

The flowers change every week or ten days, and with it the colours in the valley. I had earlier been up in June and the colours were very different.  This time the purples and mauves dominated with white and blue interspersed. 

Cyananthus Lobatus 

...and don't ask me the common name....

Morina Longifolia 

The flowers are beautiful and a rose by any name .....

Heracleum  with the mountains of VoF in the background

Geranium...

Ligularia  a common flower growing everywhere

Pedicularis Hoffmeisteri

Joan Margaret Legge's memorial

Joan Margaret Legge (Leggy as the locals call her), was a botanist who came to study the flowers of VoF.  She lost her life here and her sister set up this grave in the VoF. Having been to the Valley of Flowers for the first time in 2015 and again in 2018, I have been bitten by the bug, each time I think will my last, but I go there yet again.  Have I been unlucky? You decide....

To quote Frank Smythe again: “Nature is honest, there is no meanness in her composition, she has no time for fools, there is no place in her code for weaklings and degenerates. Out of her strength we gather our own strength. And it is good to be strong, to be able to endure, not as a brute beast, but as a thinking man imbued with the spirit of a great ideal."