First trek of a 30+ obese (cont'd)

The people on hills also remind us how in cities, we have distanced ourselves from simple solutions. For example, instead of relying on medicines, the first treatment of mountain sickness in those areas is drinking little water frequently. Or, walking in the forest, stack flat pieces of rock to make your very own GPS. Govind was prompt to show us such stacks that are frequently used by locals and trekkers to find a way back to the starting point if they feel waylaid by the forest. 

Marking the trail to avoid getting lost in the jungle

The locals have unique ways of cohabiting with animals. If a grizzly bear runs towards us, we might look for a firearm or may be at our wits end for a solution, but the simplest way is running down the hill. Why? Because running down will bring the bear’s hair on his face, and eyes, and when he cannot see you, he’ll stop running. Or best, travel with a woman. Bears (I hope irrespective of sex) do not attack a woman, so during winters when bears come down to localities, it is the ladies of the houses who open the doors in the morning. Stories of a bear walking out of courtyard under such circumstances are common and amusing, needless to say.

It is intriguing to see how spending one night on the banks of that jungle-shored lake could make people immensely creative. During the morning tea, one of our teammates said that a bear was rubbing its weight on his tent’s rope and when he crackled an empty plastic water bottle, it ran away. Well, I heard some sound at night (my limbs had rebelled for making them walk equaling a year in a day and I just couldn’t sleep) but it can be a jackal or a dog as well, for locality is not much far. To validate that it was indeed a bear and no less, he showed us marks on the extra food away from the kitchen tent. And then there was Govind, with his tale of tiger and how he and his fellow guide laid breathless as the tiger tiptoed a group of students sleeping outside their tents.

Setting up the campsite at Chopta

The next day we were in Chopta, camping on an open knoll, surrounded by winding roads to Tunganath temple, and valley at a distance. When the tents were being set, I saw a stone-wall and a few local people and herds of animal beyond it. After lunch and a nap, when other team members went for a ‘conditioning’ walk, I tagged along with my husband to explore the stone-walled settlement. 

We met Rajnath Singh (not our Union Home Minister), who owns the biggest herd of goats, lambs, and buffalos in the three-room ‘village’ (if you call it so). Every year, they come up in summers from villages downhill to get better grazing ground for the cattle, until winter sets in. So, why do you go down in winters, because of snow? Not the snow, he says, the snow leopard.

Singhji and his herd: Time to go home babies!

Whoa! So they exist, I glanced at my husband, who was busy taking his shoe-lace out from the mouth of one of the goats, ‘the lazy rouge’ we had named it. The snow leopards, largely elusive, also hunt the dogs on guard and so, unlike a fancy belt as we use in cities, dogs here have a solid metallic roundel around their neck with sharp projections, enough to injure the leopard if not kill it.

“Winters are approaching; this is the time when the leopards come down looking for food. We will leave for our village next week,” Singh said, almost presciently.

Entering world's highest Shiva temple

Mighty Himalayas from Tunganath temple

We were heading to Tunganath and Chandrashila next morning at 5:30am when the sun had just started snoozing its alarm. I looked at homes where preparations were going on to bring out the animals of their sheds. It was a long walk today, so Govind suggested I take a pony up to the temple. My legs had still not recovered and the schedule was time-bound, and as the only lady in the team, I can take some advantage, so I obliged.

Tunganath was a comfortable ride and the view on the way was mesmerizing – the peeking Nanda Devi, Kedar dome and Meru-Sumeru had lined up to allow us bask in their glory. We sipped tea at a stall owned by a local fluent in Bengali, and just before the temple, a local guest house has advertised in Bengali. Since childhood I was taught to feel proud being a Bengali, a travel-freak clan; at 12,000+ feet above sea level, I realised what it means.

On the edge of fact and fiction

I had thought to talk a little more to Mr. Singh and his family as our team readies to leave Chopta. But to my surprise, that settlement was empty, as if they’ve vanished overnight. The rooms were barren, doors ajar, the animals gone, and the dogs’ cuffs were off. I looked for one person who could tell me why these people went away, but couldn’t find any. I was sad not only because it was the last day of an arduous ‘task’ but I’m leaving behind stories unheard.

Couldn't say "Goodbye" to the rogue

The sudden disappearance of the settlers had confused both of us; there could be no possible reason, except for… I stopped short of uttering it, but I remember last night’s relay barking of dogs, the sound moving far and near in a circle, and the sound of an animal chomping, just outside our tent, even in half-dazed sleep. It could be a bear, but it could be, yes, a snow leopard; I can never be sure of what it was because I cautiously followed the safety rules. In the mountains, they say, you should always obey its rules and this was one time I cannot but regret doing so.

At leisure: two senior most team members

Are you wondering what happened to Ranveer Singh and Chandrataal? Let’s save it for another day.