Rambling in the Mountains

This image of sunrise over Trishul affected me very deeply, so much so that I did a sketch from the picture that inspired it. However, no sketch or  photograph does justice to the scene which is immensely awe-inspiring and majestic.  I completely agree with John Muir when he said "I'd rather be in the mountains thinking of God; than in church thinking about the mountains".

...and this is the picture that inspired the sketch.
Though people often conquer mountains, I feel it is simply a privilege to be there, it is the closest to God that I can be. I  slow down completely and amble along, nothing is time-bound.

Rambling around and through mountains, I feel very close to myself, gradually leaving problems and urgent thoughts behind. I go without an itinerary, no plans, no hard stops, no reservations and very few electronic connections.  I find this liberating, very liberating from the shackles of electronic life, so for many days no buzzing or jangling.  The absolute peace is very calming.

I taste the place, soak it in, feel it, absorb it; not simply pass through.  I find the local ambience very different if I do not have a mission to climb or do such and such. I meet people, get friendly, eat what they eat, and be privileged to enter their lives.

Food for the soul is when I see sights when others are asleep or partying, here is Trishul at late sunset, a very different sight. It is a delight to see mountains by bright moonlight, see them before the sun rises, at dawn, during the day, at any time.  Generally the clouds descend in the afternoon and by evening the peaks are shrouded in white. 

  

This wooden peg  at a water driven grinding mill holds the door shut from wind and animals.  In the past houses did not need locks as no one stole, on my way down from a hill walk in Chitkul I came across this latch, designed to close but not lock. 

Sun dappled hillsides greet me as I get higher in Chitkul, up a small mountain behind the village to see the sunrise.  I started by the light of a head torch in total darkness, on the first day I took the wrong trail and climbed higher than I intended to. As Barry Finlay said "Every mountain top is within reach if you just keep climbing." On the second day I got the right track, and got to the top in time to see the sun peek from behind another mountain.  I am realistic in what I can and cannot achieve, so I climb what I can and admire from afar what I cannot.

Feel the texture of life at a slow pace, perhaps we have forgotten this ambling pace?  Walk amongst the houses, see old construction, the time when the wind was blocked with stones, real seasoned wood was used for beams and there was time to fit it all together precisely.  Time was dictated by the seasons and not the clock, and all work had to be completed before it got too cold. 

Natures light show is more spectacular than anything we can invent. The sun rising from a side, illuminates the mountainsides gradually, from tiny orange tips, then side-lighted mountains to the cold blue of the day. Kasauni enables a panorama of a beautiful slice of the Himalayas, here each day is different and the ever-changing scene is a joy to behold.   These peaks are above 7000m and for my aching bones, best admired from a distance.

The early sun is shrouded  partly in natural and partly in man-made mist and haze, here it peeps out from behind the trees.  The leaves of the tree are dew laden, possibly frost formed at night and now melted. The sun lights a new day with new hopes and plans, each day different from the previous. 

  

Dew drops on a tomato... it is cold at night and early mornings are usually wet.  On an early morning walk I came across this dew laden tomato in a field. Normally I am out walking an hour before sunrise to about mid-morning, then I get back to my stay and sit out on a veranda and read.  I am out again early in the afternoon till an hour after sunset. Carry spare socks as nothing will prevent them from getting wet.

  

Higher I go, the more stark is the landscape, till I reach a high altitude desert which has only very sparse vegetation in summer. Local human and animal life adapt to the altitude and the bitter winter cold, houses are made to insulate, fodder is gathered before the first snowfall, and the locals are prepared. It is us, the passersby, that cannot adapt to these  conditions and insist on the comforts that we are used to.

  

A Himachali Couple prepares for winter as there is not a moment to spare.  The cattle and other animals come down from the higher ranges as it gets colder and they eat the crop if it is not harvested. Every bit of the harvest is used, the grain and the stalks as fodder. Every aspect of life here is governed by the seasons and the weather.

  

The sky is deep blue as there is little pollution at this height, the clouds are cotton puffs against the inky blue.  The pollution is creeping up with rapid construction and expansion of road networks, now there is dust at many places. Almost all landslides that I have seen here and elsewhere, start at the cutting for a road in the mountains. I think if you leave nature alone it will look after itself.

  

...the shades of blue are infinite, the ranges are serene, vegetation on the lower slopes, stark and bare a little higher up and perpetually snow clad peaks in the distance.
To quote the evergreen John Muir:
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”

Spiti Valley - Odyssey by Bus

This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds. To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance. A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky, Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain.

                                             -Gautama Buddha

Buses are the lifeline of the local people old, young,  women, men, children; all use the bus. If one wants to live the place, buses are the way to go. People, places, food all form a kaleidoscope of experience. So I decided to traverse the Spiti Valley by local buses. I had no fixed itinerary and only a vague notion of the places I would go to.  My route turned out:
Mumbai-Chandigarh by train 28 hours
Chandigarh -8 hours- Karcham -1h 30m- Sangla -1h 30m- Chitkul -5h- Reckong Peo -30m- Kalpa -14h (incl 6h halt at a landslide at Spillo)-  Kaza (Force Traveller 10 seats)-11h- Manali -10h- Chandigarh.

There are mountains astride the narrow roads, mostly barren, the higher peaks snow clad and the ubiquitous river along which the road goes. Buses drive fast but safely, out of necessity local traffic is courteous, stopping and reversing to where the road is wider to allow the other to pass. Here is a local gentleman sitting next to me, chatting and explaining places, customs and the way off life.  He will tell me where to get off.

Everyone has right of way, here goats cross the road while the bus driver waits, though not patiently.  Eager to be on his way, the driver will speed even more on the narrow roads. Our way was blocked by shooting stones at Spillo for six hours, as soon as it opened, the driver took off, driving to Kaza non-stop for six hours.

Bus journeys are long, often 10-12 hours depending on the destination, road condition and weather.  To get to where I am going, I often need to start before dawn.  No matter what time I start, the vistas in the mountains are always breathtaking. The norm seems to be using one's own car or bike brought up from the plains, that is why hotels and homestays are often far from bus stations.  The itinerary of most tour companies are generally a whirlwind, going through the valley in five or six days.  If you have the time and the inclination, I strongly recommend a more leisurely pace.

Early morning buses are often used by villagers to go to the fields and harvest the crop. Since many of the travellers are from nearby villages and meet each other on the way to fields each day, the bus journey gives them time to catch up with local chatter and listen to the   loud music, these are possibly the only restful moments they have in their busy lives.

The seasons are harsh and unforgiving, the crop must be brought in before the icy winds of winter drive cattle into the fields.  In the higher reaches there is but one crop a year and most villagers live on this through the severe winter.  The crop is generally fafda and ogala, the bright red plants making for colourful fields.  Both are grains a type of buckwheat; and every part is used, for human and animal feed.  

There are hubs from where buses go to the lesser villages, Sangla is one such hub.  Everyone waits patiently for a bus to somewhere.  Buses at the hubs are frequent and in some distant places they become once a day, coming and going back immediately.  It is best to enquire the bus timing for a place in that season before going anywhere. Schedules can be changed by landslides and the vagaries of weather. Buses can be regular full sized buses or even small vans as this one at Sangla.

No matter how crowded a bus is, there is always room for more, even the engine cowl is padded to create space to sit. Buses usually start packed with passengers and as people hop off they become less occupied, till somewhere close to the destination there are few people left. Most mainlines have regular buses, specially short routes of about four hours or so.Though there many home-stays and hotels at each location and in between,  I did not know this but had not booked a room to stay in advance.  I never had any difficulty in finding a a room to rest my weary head. The cost of a room spans the spectrum of budgets, one can find a room from Rs 500 to Rs 2500 or even more.  I do not recommend booking accommodation in advance because it is difficult to plan.

...quite literally, music booms out in every bus, all the time. It can be religious music, like when I was travelling early one morning from Chitkul to Reckong Peo; or pahadi music or simply film music.  Carry earplugs if you cannot handle this sound, or listen to podcasts like I did.

The people here are very religious, given the narrow roads and steep hillsides,  the bus drivers are possibly even more religious. Small shrines and large temples dot the road side, and every bus has pictures of deities all over the drivers area.   The bus drivers are good, the buses well sprung and the roads are not too bad so even long journeys though bumpy are not too bad. it is best to sit in the front/middle of the bus, seats around No 15 are the best.

The weather in the mountains is fickle, bright and sunny one moment, it can become grey, cloudy and rain the next. Travel easily, do not have a tight schedule, as landslides, weather or availability of buses can disrupt them. A landslide at Spillo caused me to divert to Kalpa for two days. When I began moving on the third day, shooting stones at the same place caused a delay of six hours. So I skipped Sumdo and went on to Kaza.

Kaza to Manali is a long journey along rough roads, though the very scenic route is through arid high altitude desert and wetlands, the road is generally along the Spiti River upto Kunzum La (4590 metres) and then the Chenab to Manali via Rohtang La.  The journey starts at 0630 am and is by Force Traveller, it reaches at 1700 pm and it is best to take a seat just behind the driver.  

There are few halts on the way, breakfast at Losar and lunch at Battal. from the milestone one sees that the distances are not much, it is the time taken to cover short distances in mountains.  Breakfast is parathas, achar (pickle) and tea; lunch is rice, rajmah and some vegetable. Time and distance dictate a uniformity of action and I found many buses, taxis and private cars stopped at the same places.  Around the corner in both places is literally just that. 
 

“The secret of the mountain is that the mountains simply exist, as I do myself: the mountains exist simply, which I do not. The mountains have no “meaning,” they are meaning; the mountains are. The sun is round. I ring with life, and the mountains ring, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. I understand all this, not in my mind but in my heart.” – Peter Matthiessen

In the Clouds - Walking up to the Highest Point

Some people feel the rain,
Others just get wet.
-Bob Marley

Walking on the Highest Point trail in Sanjay Gandhi National Park, we truly felt the rain. Some did get wet when it started to rain, they were reluctant to go to the peak, but no sooner were they atop they felt the beauty of the place.

The path up is green every where, the verdant green of the monsoon. Jambhulmal Peak is the highest point in SGNP, and the trail is eponymous. From the car park where the trail started, to the top is an ascent of of about 1500 feet, (approximately 455 metres) over a distance of about 5 kilometres.

About an hour into the walk it began to rain, heavily at times, so we were walking along small waterfalls by the path, this water brought a lot of mud with it, erosion I suppose.

the route up is intermittently a rocky path, surrounded by many hues of bright green...

...through a  gushing stream on the way....

...along the way we go up slick and slippery steps cut by ancients. 

There is water everywhere, brown with eroded soil.  Where it can, it flows, otherwise it puddles.

The vegetation changes as we climb, from broad-leaved trees, flowering teak and wild haldi lower down, stands of bamboo dominate higher up. There are clouds and fog and mist shrouding the top, the legendary view is concealed, but it is wet and beautiful

Irrespective of the vegetation, moss and fern every bit of the way make the path slippery.  More so when coming down when one has to often sit and descend.

On the route down we cross the Kanheri Caves.  Now decrepit and amateurishly renovated, these ancient Buddhist Caves form an elaborate complex which have withstood the ravages of time over centuries.  

It was lovely walk and a wonderful experience.

“After the rain, the sun will reappear. 
There is life. After the pain, the joy will still be here.” 
― Walt Disney Company

Green - the Colour of Monsoon

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.

William Blake

 Karnala Fort  seen from the air, draped in green. Everything wears a gown of green in the monsoon, the green is bright, verdant, lush and covers every visible inch. 
Water is life.

There are waterfalls everywhere, from this litle one by the roadside, to huge gushers on the hillside. People exult in the water and most accessible waterfalls have crowds bathing in them.  Where thwarted, the water can turn angry, bringing floods, landslides and treefalls.

Though the primary colour is green, other colours emerge also. this single stalk of balsam amidst the grass is possibly the precursor of a riot of  colour.  

In the forest multi-hued flowers  grow in the lush vegetation and lend a colourful air to the sea of green.

These karvi flowers grow after seven years, some mysterious  biological clock ticks away the time and they flower together, entire hillsides take on a purple hue.

It is a time for courting, this Malabar Gliding frog calls to its mate...

...and having found her, they mate, laying their eggs in a blob of foam over water so that the tadpoles fall into the water when they hatch.

The female Giant Wood Spider dwarfs the male, some say that having done, she eats him!!They too breed in this season, and the forest had many webs between branches.  Lately they seem less, some mysterious cycle maybe...

A cicada moults under cover of darkness and waits for its wings to dry before it commences its characteristic buzz

The unwary beware, along with the prey come the predators, here a Malabar Pit Viper lies in ambush , waiting for that delicious frog to pass by.

Malabar Pit Vipers are of many colours (morphs as they are known), green and brown are the more common colours.

Everywhere everything is growing, a seed is left behind by a bird and a fern grows in a wall

Water everywhere....  it collects in old buildings like this derelict but magnificent cathedral in Vasai...

...and wets the fresh plants and fallen wood in the forest, water is the giver and taker of life.

Water collects on roads, ponds and lakes, many of which have been dry during the summer and now thirstily soak the drops.

And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.

Gilbert K. Chesterton