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."

Lidderwat - We never got there

 "The world reveals itself to those who travel on foot" said Werner Herzog...  

...This is particularly true of the mountains, where beyond every bend in the track there is a new vista to enjoy. 

A friend, Basav, and I went to the Kashmir Valley, where we meandered our way to the Aru Valley.  Down this Valley flows the Lidder River, not too wide, but very powerful especially since we had gone just after the monsoon. 

The gorgeous Lidder River

As we approached the source of the river, the sides of the valley got steeper, the gorge got deeper and the river flowed more purposefully. It may have seemed placid, but as we looked carefully we could see the strong current.   Seemingly little rivulets swept whole trees and boulders from the hillside.

Looking for the source of the Lidder River

So Basav and I set out for Lidderwat, the source of the Lidder River,  we had been told that it was about three hours each way, with an hour for lunch there made it about a seven hour return trip; given my slower pace, maybe about eight hours? We started walking at 8 am and expected to be back by 4 pm, we couldn't have been more wrong.

Smiling and admiring the view when it was dry..... pic courtesy Basav

It was sunny and dry when we started out, though slushy in patches; we were told that it was always slushy at these places and that we needed to take a detour no problem, we walked around the slush. I had switched to a fanny pack for this hike, staying as light as possible for the long walk.  Unfairly I shoved those 'last moment' things into Basav's rucksack.

The track was boggy at places, that's Basav laughing at the bog...

The start was boggy and steep uphill, very steep; but only for about a kilometre, after that the terrain was lightly undulating all through, certain stretches remained very slushy, and the slush was deep enough to cover boots. Every bend in the track showed a different scene and the terrain was varied.  The scenery changed from bald craggy mountains to mountainsides with pine trees right down to the river.

Ranks of pine trees marching....

There were alpine meadows interspersed with deep, dark forests.  Here the canopy was so dense that we couldn't see the sky and no light came down.  There were bakarwals (goat and sheep herding nomadic tribes) that were preparing to go to lower altitudes for winter. They made tents of plastic sheets or rudimentary huts of mud and grass.

The track was steep and the trees were large age and old with Basav standing in front, he is not old but very tough.

Two groups caught up to us, but then they would stop, so we overtook them again, then we would stop..... These groups stayed with us, leafrogging our way forward.  They were going to camp the night at Lidderwat and we were to return and ominous portent of events to come.

...and then it started raining.  Thats a Bakerwal camp covered in plastic sheets at the bottom left. pic courtesy Basav.

It rained heavily for a while, then it continued to drizzle intermittently. The drizzle made the complete track wet and muddy. Nothing (except Basav's shoes!) would keep us completely dry.  

...gooey mud soon made our shoes weigh twice as much. pic courtesy Basav

The path was mucky, our clothes and boots were muddy and so at after about six kilometres, at 1200 hours we (basav and I) took the decision to return.  We had been walking for about four hours by then and had just asked the guide of one of the groups as to the distance to Lidderwat, he replied that it was about 10 km one way, so we had about four kilometres to go and 10 to return. 

...the slushy parts now joined to become muddier and deeper.  That's Basav having crossed the mud and not smiling so much any more. 

Before it rained, we were careful not to get our boots dirty, but the rain and exhaustion soon rid us of this notion and on the way back we were sloshing merrily through all but the deepest parts. Our hiking boots soon weighed more than the boots themselves. We ate packed lunch by the side of the track, admired the scenery and then continued walking.

A Bakerwal hut

Mules and horses made the path muddier, often they would sink deep in the muck.  The Bakerwals  on the other hand found/made tracks on the hillside, often where none existed.  These tracks were much easier to walk on, less boggy and our boots stayed cleaner. So we climbed higher up the hillside and followed these paths, finally coming down at the end.

A welcome cup of noodles, maggi is the generic name for any noodles

Having walked about 12 km, we were ravenous so we asked this gentleman to make us maggi-omlette, staple food in the mountains.  To our surprise he didn't know what that was and served us maggi noodles and omlettes separately, hungry as were were we happily wolfed it down. And as always chasing this down with cups of  Kahwa,  the Kashmiri tea.

 I am glad we turned around when we did, another fourteen km would have had us thrashing about in the dark, though we both had head torches, the fun would have gone out of the hike. So it was a nice fun long walk. That we walked another couple of kilometres to the river on the other side.... but that is another tale.
"A rainy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods" said an intrepid adventurer Rachel Carson. But the one that fits this situation the best is a quote by an unknown hiker "I'd rather be hiking in the rain, than sitting indoors at a desk on a sunny day"

Junk That Expensive "breathable" Jacket

It is raining buckets as I climb, there is no shelter nearby, so I continue upward and forward, drenched to the skin. I am wearing a 'Waterproof and breathable' outfit, a poncho, waterproof over-trousers, waterproof boots and a waterproof hat. The gear keeps me dry for all of fifteen minutes till I feel the first trickle of ice-cold water or is it sweat?  This scene has played out for me on almost every hike I have done.

At the Sarovar at Hemkund Sahib, in a "waterproof" jacket

They say that the pores of these tightly knit fabrics with a special layer for breathability, are too small for water molecules to penetrate (read rain), but large enough to allow water vapor (sweat) to pass through. But every time I have worn a "breathable" garment I have got wet, seriously wet.  I have invested a lot of money in every conceivable brand of waterproof and breathable fabric, even expensive brands have not kept me dry. 

Soaked on the way to Tungnath, that's a "breathable" poncho I am wearing

This is, I think, because they say, that the sweat vapor stays in the (steamy) vapor state till it exits the "breathable" fabric.  However once it reaches the inside surface of clothing which is cooler than body heat the vapor will condense and the inside surface of the rain garment will become wet with sweat.  Though most times what I think is actually happening is that the sweat vapour is drying on the surface of the skin. For sweat to actually move through the fabric that has been made "waterproof and breathable"  there would need to be an airflow warm enough to keep the sweat in a vapor state till it goes out of the fabric. 

This situation seems to be made worse in the warm, wet Indian climate, where the humidity and rainfall is such that waterproof fabrics simply give up. So I had this "waterproof and breathable" poncho and I wore it twice, once when climbing up Tungnath and once in Matheran. The poncho became slick and gooey, I suspect the waterproof layer was coming off. It got so sticky that I had to finally discard it. I Have tried such garments in the mountains and in the plains with nearly the same results.

In the Valley of Flowers wearing a waterproof and breathable Jacket, and waterproof shoes, none of these kept me dry 

In my opinion, spend small money on a rain garment at a local store, use it for a season or two and discard it.  Buy a cheap poncho that allows air circulation when climbing, that is likely to keep one dry more than any breathable jacket. If the breeze is too much, tie a cord like a belt around the poncho, it doest fly.  That, at any rate, is what I do. It may be better for a fabric to dry fast, which waterproof garments, particularly shoes, do not do. Read many blogs on mesh vs waterproof trail running or hiking shoes and you will understand what I mean.

 I have found that a quick or stay dry type of fabric, particularly in hiking pants (trackpants) tend to dry very fast. Spend a little more money on stretchy and thin trackpants they are worth it.

"There's a hole in the bucket....."

What Have They Done to this Fair Earth?

 As Jim Morrison sang:

What have they done to the earth, yeah?

What have they done to our fair sister?

Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her

Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn

And tied her with fences and dragged her down

Pine leaves on barbed wire at a friend's farm near Igatpuri

On many treks, most in fact, I find wire and construction rods in nature, dividing the land or marking "this is mine".

Mule train on the way to Ghangariya notice the orange wire

On pilgrimage routes, housing there's wire in different forms and colours, in snow bound areas in bound areas, bright orange so that presumably the wire can be seen against the snow. 

Cormorants on cables near Mumbai

The birds, animals and insects have grown used to this intrusion into their space and in some cases have adapted to these unusual perches.

Barn Swallow chicks on a wire near a house being constructed at Pangot

No matter how ecology is affected, the attitude of most humans is "Ecology is fine as a noble cause, but be sure it is not in my backyard".  

Bird on a electric cable in Chanfi

Witness the smartphones, flyovers and oodles of other progress, everyone knows that they are bad for nature but who will be the first to do away with them? 

A tree growing around barbed wire

Considering the recent Government ordinances in various countries on reining in consumption, one would think that such wires and "marks" of  advancement would be detrimental to nature.  

Barbed wire ends, but does it end?

But it seems business as usual for big corporates who make disposable goods so that you and I can have the "latest model." Impediments to this business causes inconvenience and delay, which you and I are not willing to countenance.

Construction bars bear mute testimony to the frantic pace at which "progress" is advancing

To quote Jim Morrison again:

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end

Let this not be the end

Bharatpur: A Birders Paradise

 

“Photography is the story I fail to put into words.”

– Destin Sparks

“In order to see birds, it is necessary to become part of the silence.”

-Robert Lynd 

A tranquil part of the Sanctuary

Birds, birds birds, the Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary is simply full of them, and going there on a weekday is that much more calm and serene.  

Telling each other secrets A pair of Rose-ringed Parakeets go about their circle of life while we look on...

A Grey Heron dries its feathers

Birds are one of the sure indicators of the environment, if they are in trouble, we know we’ll soon be in trouble. To see the one of largest gathering of migratory and resident birds in India, I went to Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary in the winter of this year. The Sanctuary is and was known by different names, but I like Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary and I shall call it variations of that.

A Black-winged Stilt contemplates its reflection in the small pool behind where I was staying

A long but lovely train ride from Mumbai deposited me the next midday at Bharatpur, it was too late to go to the Bird Sanctuary, so I did some local birding around the place I was staying.

Sarson (mustard) flowers everywhere one could see

It was lovely, the quiet and sounds of village life, of course punctuated by the electronic blare of modern times. At this time the fields were planted with sarso (mustard) and the yellow flowers of the ripening crop was like a carpet as far as eye could see.

A Grey Wagtail sits onthe rocks  in the village pond.

Over the next three days I took a guide (one day) and one of the ubiquitous cycle rickshaws, the same rickshaw person became my friend and guide, and we went around various parts of the park over three days.

one of the many rickshaws going along the trails that divide the wetland

At this time of year there are many birds and animals, many of them breeding and the young, like that of humans, are either raucous or quiet, shy or aggressive.  Each of them engrossed in the circle of life that perpetuates the type.

A family of Painted Stork with the parents feeding the chicks. The noise is deafening.

A Painted Stork chick comes for a closer look.  It has been dipping its hurt beak into the water..

Scratching that infernal itch

Not long ago this was the private hunting reserve of the British and the Maharajas, stone tablets bear mute testimony to the terrible slaughter that took place here each year. Then in recent years, sadly the Sanctuary was the pawn in the power play of politics. For now, all is well.

One of the stone tablets which proudly displays the slaughter of years past

For those that haven’t been there, Bharatpur is a series of large swamps with trails crisscrossing. Algae covers the swamp, in hues of bright green or rust red and the birds feed on these algae or the fish that live here. It seems that various types of large birds have proprietary rights over different parts of the swamps and the trees growing in the midst of these wetlands.

A flock of Bar-headed Geese drink water...

...this Eagle is the master of all he surveys

This part of Bharatpur city thrives on birds, at the place where I stayed, the owner proudly showed me a family of owls breeding on his property. On the day I arrived since I was too late to go to the Bird sanctuary, I went for a walk near the village behind where I was staying and birds went undisturbed about their business.

An Owl shuts its eyes against the glare of the day

Dew makes this spider's web a necklace fit for a queen

There are many animals too in this Park, nilgai, boar, jackal and much to my delight, a family of porcupines.  Of course the Indian Rock Python is ubiquitous, this being a favourite place to spot them.

Indian Rock Python basks in the fading sun.

The emblem of the sanctuary and often spotted here are the Sarus Crane, there are many stories about them, some true and some not so true, nevertheless seeing these huge birds is fascinating. Then there are migrating and resident ducks, geese, coots and a variety of smaller water birds, each busy feeding on the rich nutrients the swampland has to offer.

A Brown Shrike looks out for a juicy morsel in the air.....

...while this Egret has caught a fish swimming below the rust brown algae

Great White Pelicans seem to be master tacticians, they form a flock and corner the fish, then each diving in to catch what it can. Just watching them sail majestically to and fro is a delight.  Then suddenly there is a flurry of frantic activity as these huge birds dive in to catch what they have cornered.At sunset, skeins of these huge birds fly off to roost.

Great White Pelicans form a flock to fish...

.....At dusk these huge birds fly off to roost

It is a photographer’s paradise, sit still or move around, do both sometimes, there is much to be seen and images made of. The park closes after sunset, so watching the sun go down each day is particularly beautiful, the water takes on a golden hue and birds feed well into the darkness.

Dusk at the Sanctuary, but an Egret looks for fish.....

 

The sun goes down among the trees, and so the circle of life goes on.

Every bird, every tree, every flower reminds me what a blessing and privilege it is just to be alive and go to places like these.