Chpt 13. 18th August

The alarm woke us up early and after a quick bath and some tea, we took the taxi to the airport. All flights were delayed due to the large number of travelers (being a long weekend) and the extra security procedures due to Independence Day week. We had booked the first flight out to Mumbai and Bangalore from Delhi. I had planned on going to office directly from the airport and Vidya during the second half.

When boarding call for the Mumbai flight was announced, we parted ways after some fake rona dhona drama and promises that we would do this every year.

The flights however were further delayed by over 2 hours and the plane waited on the runway for what seemed like forever. I reached office only at 11 a.m. and was immediately immersed into the busy schedule that awaited me. Liza called later in the afternoon to tell me about their delayed flight and her journey back home.

Back to boring reality…Sigh.!

I do hope we do many more trips, hopefully even one a year. On holidays, you not only get to see new places, taste new cuisines, experience new cultures and meet interesting people but also you get to know yourself and your fellow travelers better and grow from it.

Chpt 12. 17th August

Technically the day had already begun in Haridwar…

We reached Delhi around 5.30 a.m. and caught an auto to the guest house. Gopal ji was not to happy at having been woken up so early. We were just too tired and sleepy to care. We left a request for breakfast for us and crashed out for the next few hours.

At around 10 a.m. we woke to have a hearty breakfast and read the newspapers (something we hadn’t done in days!). We had a bath and decided to set off to Delhi Haat and some shopping. Vidya said she wasn’t up to it and instead planned on meeting some of her Delhi friends. I think she was just tired and lazy to get out.

We took an auto to Dilli Haat and shopped around in the sweltering heat. Liza managed to charm a shop keeper into lending her a hand fan, which she duly returned after the shopping expedition. We bought a few earrings, bangles and bags and had some of the famous momo’s and fruit beer as a snack. Our next stop was M Block market at GK. We had a late lunch at Moti Mahal, visited a few shops and then took off to Lajpat nagar market.

Vidya, all refreshed, joined us here and we did a bit of window shopping and bought more bangles, lace and a few small gifts. By this time our feet were aching, so we decided to head back to the guesthouse. On the way back on a rickshaw, we stopped at the Haldirams for a bite of chaat and packed some sweets for office/home.

At the guesthouse we stretched out, chatted, repacked our belongings, finalized the shared accounts and watched TV. After a yum dinner of chicken and roti, we went off to sleep.

Chpt 11. 16th August

As usual, Liza’s early morning alarm woke me up. It took another 15 minutes for her to actually get out of bed and begin rummaging around. She put on another layer and went out to the terrace to gaze. This was most definitely the last morning that we would get up the see the mountains at such proximity. It was also the beginning of our decent into the plains and the beginning of the end of our holiday.

Liza called out to us to join her on the terrace and I dragged myself all wrapped in blankets to enjoy the early morning sights. Vidya joined us in some time and we enjoyed chai before scrambling to get ready and repack and make it to the bus in time.

There were three seats at the back of the bus for us to sit, but the views up front (of the scenery not Rawat) were much better. We split our time, sometimes sitting at the front of the bus and sometimes trying to catch some sleep at the back of the bus. The journey back to Rishikesh was so much better than the journey from Rishikesh. This bus had better, bigger seats that had armrests to arrest the slipping into the aisle!

We took a late mid morning stop at Pipalkoti to freshen up. We bought some packaged snacks (we really were hungry by then) and a few apples and peaches- grown locally. Fruit especially tastes so much better if eaten fresh rather than after clocking zillion food miles travelling from ends of the world and being artificially ripened.

We were forced to take another break at the landslide point. Cars, buses, jeeps, army vehicles all lined up waiting for the rubble to be cleared. This time almost everyone from the bus got down to stretch their legs and admire the breathtaking views. It was here that Liza and Vidya ran into Dev again and insisted I go and say hi to him since he was looking for me.

Luckily the path was cleared and people started climbing back into their vehicles. We stopped again for a late lunch and post lunch we decided to go back and sleep. The rest of the journey was relatively smooth and we woke around 6 p.m. and joined Vidya who was sitting at the front of the bus. Ideally we should have reached Rishikesh by this time, but the late start and the landslide wait increased our travel time. Rawat estimated that we would be in Rishikesh by 9.

The sun set early and it soon became dark. If we thought that driving on the ghats was dangerous, it was even scarier doing it during the night. We couldn’t see even a foot ahead of us and it was a miracle that Rawat was able to see and keep the bus on the road all the time. We reached Rishikesh a little after nine and we were dropped off at the bus stand after paying Rawat for taking us on as additional passengers.

The public bus stand was a mess. It had just rained and the whole area was like a marshland with people running helter skelter with no aim. We were directed towards a group of buses going to Haridwar. Just as we got into one, luggage and all, the driver switched off the engine and disappeared with the conductor. Our train was a little after midnight from Haridwar and we were hoping that we could make it in time to catch the train.

Two buses next to ours left and there was still no sign of the driver. Finally the driver arrived and announced that the bus was going to Delhi and all Haridwar passengers better catch some other bus that would leave immediately. He also added some stuff about there being some disturbance between the two states of Uttarakhand and U.P. and hence buses may not run to Haridwar. Many of the Haridwar passengers cursed and got off. We decided to stick with this bus since we had a good seat and place for our luggage. Also travelling so late in the night by taxi was not a safe option. Within five minutes the bus started up and took off, the whole thing was just a farce to get as many Delhi passengers on the bus and offload the Haridwar passengers!

We reached Haridwar bus stand and picked up our luggage and walked to the railway station, about 10 minutes away. The station was filled with people, even at 12 in the night. Most of them were sleeping on every available inch of the floor! We went to the first class waiting room to find it filled with mostly non first class passengers. Atleast the loos were clean! I decided to go looking for food since we hadn’t had any dinner but everything was shut by that time. Liza said it wasn’t safe going out of the station to look for food, so we made do with chips and biscuits.

The train arrived at 12.30 a.m. and we were on our way back to Delhi at 1 a.m. We settled in with the fresh train sheets and blankets for the short 4 hour nap.

Chpt 10. 15th August

We woke up really early thanks to patriotic songs being played loudly at the field adjacent to the hotel. Liza, used to getting up early anyway (for reasons best told by her) went out on the balcony (did I mention we had one?). Vidya and I got up a little later and we were dressed and ready to catch the bus by 7 am. We crossed the field with our entire luggage and reached the old GMVN guest house.

The day’s agenda was to visit Badrinath. We weren’t really THAT keen on going to Badrinath, but the bus wasn’t coming back to Joshimath and we decided to go wherever the bus took us, which meant the trip to Badrinath- if the debris at the landslide had cleared.

All our fellow travelers were asked to line up (we even did the attention, stand at ease thingy in hindi..read “savdhan, vishram etc) and sing the national anthem after a speech from one of the older travelers. It was a strange beginning, considering the circumstances and it amused us to no end, but we did what we were told to do, like good girls…?

We set off after the gujju gang with the panch Meena troupe and the rest piled into the bus. We passed Govindghat in about an hour and were not so happy to find that the landslide hadn’t yet been cleared. There was still danger of falling stones. Vehicles would not be allowed any further. However Rawat lied though his teeth this time and managed to get past the manned crossing gate and get right upto the landslide [going by GMVN did have some perks, not enjoyed by other private vehicles]. Slowly small groups from our bus and others got off to stretch their legs and watch the machines clear the rubble.

The road, or what was left of it, looked like a small ledge on which no cat, leave alone bus could travel. Rawat didn’t seem concerned though and continued to regale us with stories of dangerous drives and accidents he had witnessed. All this did nothing to boost our confidence about how we could get to the other side of the landslide. We could see a serpentine queue on the other side as well- loads of people waiting to get out to mainland after their pilgrimage from Badrinath. A few brave souls attempted to cross the area on foot and bike, ducking the stones and maneuvering around the boulders.

Liza and Vidya were with the others, watching the clearing at close quarters. They were commenting on how dangerous the whole area was and looked up to see a huge stone and mud come straight down towards them. After a moment of stunned silence, they leaped and ran towards the shelter of the parked buses. Just in time too- the stone landed just where they were standing a few minutes ago and if they had not looked up, they could have easily been turned into pulp.

Around 11 a.m., talk of the clearing being complete began to do the rounds and everyone sighed with relief, but it was atleast another hour before the bus actually got going. While passing the cleared road the bus swayed and regained balance over the uneven road and all of us inside held our breath at some of the more dangerous points, but we made it across at last.

After that, the road to Badrinath was more or less clear after that. After we crossed 9000 feet, the treeline disappeared and we were once again driving through the mists (and cold). We reached the temple at 1 p.m. only to find that even the temple gods took a lunch break. We could either skip the temple visit entirely or wait till 3 - the risk in the latter being that we could miss the gate back to Govindghat which closed at 4!! Since we had managed to reach Badrinath in one piece, the bus group decided to have a darshan of the deity and then leave at the earliest.

Vidya was tagging along with some old Bengali gentlemen from the bus while Liza and I dipped our feet at the sulphur hot springs and then proceeded to look for a loo and some khana. We asked the shopkeepers for a suggestion on where to eat and found Vidya and the Bengalis seated there too! The old gentlemen insisted on paying for our lunch- they said that they don’t get an opportunity to take young women out to lunch often…haha. Then they made the three of us hold hands and gave us a lecture on friendship, which was sweet but weird.

After doing some timepass buying brassware at the shops, we joined the queue that was quickly forming outside the main gate of the temple. There was a strong wind blowing and after 2 p.m., the sun disappeared. With no shoes and little protection (our sweaters, etc were in the bus), our teeth were soon chattering. We were glad when the temple doors finally opened at 3 p.m. We finished the darshan at the temple and took a quick look around the premises and almost ran back to the bus and its warm shelter.

The bus was parked at the GMVN guesthouse and we were glad to be indoors and promptly ordered for chai, which didn’t turn up for the next half hour. By this time, the rest of the group sauntered back to the bus and we too climbed into the bus.

It started raining heavily on our journey back and we weren’t sure of the road conditions and how far we would be able to travel that night. These were the times that we were glad we were travelling with the state govt. tourism with contacts in most small villages along the way. Worst case, we would atleast have a roof over our heads!

As we were approaching Joshimath, we got information that there was yet another landslide beyond Joshimath and it was decided to once again spend the night and Joshimath and wait out the rain and clearing of the landslide.

By this time, the hotel staff was used to us saying goodbye every morning and then showing up once more asking for a room in the evening. When they saw us walking up to the new GMVN guesthouse, they broke into knowing smiles and offered us a four bedroom place since the wonderful room we had spent the last night in, was already occupied.

We settled in the new room and went out to the terrace to enjoy chai, pakoras and finger chips. Vidya and Liza were only too happy to find fault with the neighbours (a bunch of boys who had occupied “our” room) who were drinking on their terrace and cooking dal, chawal and maggi. They even thought of complaining to the management of the hotel (since cooking and drinking was not allowed as per the rules pasted in every room) but found that the waiters and staff were providing them glasses and plates and therefore not objecting to the blatant breaking of rules.

The long drive and all that waiting took its toll and we called it an early night after another non exciting meal at the hotel.

Chpt 9. 14th August

This was the end of our stay at Ghangria and we woke early since we didn’t want to miss our bus back. We hired three ghodas, loaded our bags and set off. Vidya and Liza decided to trek down and started off while I waited for another ghoda and passenger to be added. After yesterdays one ghodawala disappearing incident, we were wiser and wanted two ghodawalas. I met Shekhar on the way our when we were paying toll for the horses. Thanked him for the chocos and he seemed almost embarrassed.

The journey down seemed unending, I guess it was because we weren’t all that eager to go down as we were on the journey up. Liza hopped on to one of the spare ghodas while Vidya, after the previous day’s harrowing Hemkund trip on ghoda, decided to walk the entire stretch down to Govindghat. It began to get really hot. We passed Rana and the rest of the bus gang walking down and we knew we would be back at Govindghat earlier than the others.

By the time we reached Govindghat it was noon and the sun was scorching. We waited for Vidya on the steps of the Gurudwara and after resting a while, we set off to find the bus. We reached the parking lot, and found no GMVN bus! Some of the shopkeepers told us that there was another bus stand and I set off to look if our bus was there while Liza and Vidya waited outside a veggie shop. The bus wasn’t at the other parking lot either and I got worried.

I tried calling Rawat on his mobile which he didn’t pick up. What if the bus had gone off with our luggage and left us back? The telephone booth operator told us that the GMVN bus goes back to Joshimath and comes to pick up the people only later, and we heaved a sigh of relief. We went to one of the stalls at the parking lot to have lunch and midway, Rawat shows up. None of the other bus passengers reached until around 3 p.m. By this time, Rawat began to worry about crossing the landslide prone ghats to reach Badrinath, where we were to spend the night, before 5 p.m. when the gates would close for one way traffic.

Luck was not on our side….we left around 4, only to be stuck 20 minutes into the journey due to a landslide. We waited till 5 p.m. and turned around and went back to Joshimath. The scenery on the way back was beautiful and Vidya, sitting right at the front of the bus was busy clicking photos of the mountains, the mist and the great views.

In a way we were glad to be back at the GMVN guest house at Joshimath, we had a great room this time. And we were reintroduced to the pleasures of running water, a geyser, electricity and we made a excited fuss about just everything. After Ghangria, this hotel room was a palace. We washed up, lazed, did accounts, ordered pakoras and chai and began to relax. The food at GMVN wasn’t all that great and they took forever to serve the food….we were quite grumpy about that. We went back late at night to the room to find that Rawat had given me a missed call (this was the first of the many missed calls he gave me as I later discovered). He asked us to be ready to leave anytime after 6 a.m.

We went to sleep after that, Liza missing her nightly glass of date flavoured milk…

Chpt 8. 13th August

We had planned on getting an early start on the day’s trip to Hemkund Saheb. Most pilgrims get going as early as 6 a.m. and therefore running water in all taps is only available between 4.30 and 6 in the morning. We, of course didn’t even plan on getting up this early and made do with several buckets of water which were brought up to our room , sometimes even delivered through the window of the bathroom!

We were up and ready to go by around 7 a.m, and we began our search for the ghodas [also known as khacchar in the local lingo]. After all the walking the last two days, we all agreed that ghodas were the way to go- and what a wise decision it turned out to be in hindsight. Our ghodawala, a youngish chap told us that he will guide all three ghodas [Reshma, Karishma & Kamala – pronounced with the ‘h’ being silent] and we were on our way with Kamala, my young, spirited horse leading the way. Unlike the trek to the valley, this one seemed to be much steeper- we after all had to reach a height of 4400 mts from ghangria which was at 3048 mts.

The path up to Hemkund was lined with rocks and when it started to drizzle, the rocks started getting slippery. Going by my vast experience of riding mules (most experienced of the three of us), I was used to them walking along the outer edge of the path. But there were a few heartstopping moments, especially at the turns when a rock on the edge slipped away and fell into nothingness. Within an hour or so into our journey, the drizzle was quite steady and we were in the midst of clouds making the cold seem even colder.

We stopped at around 10 at our ghodawallah’s friends shop for some snacks. Vidya and I stuck to the chai, and Liza had her usual- Maggi. I must admit though, that Maggi somehow tasted so much better up in the Himalayas then when we made it in our city kitchens! After about half an hour we moved our aching backsides back on the mules for the rest of the journey.

When the drizzle cleared we were able to spot the flowers, some of which we knew the names (thanks to yesterday’s trip) and some new ones [e.g. the Brahma Kamal]. Unfortunately we couldn’t take photos of them sitting high up on the mules. The breathtaking scenery though was captured on film (digitally actually). We saw clouds swirling around and mountains in a slow dance and rivulets begin their long journey to the Alaknanda. There was also a patch of snow which had not melted! There were moments when we had a clear sky, but the sky remained cloudy for most of the day.

Along the way we passed many pilgrims, all ages and sizes making their way up the treacherous path. I think it was only faith or belief or whatever one wants to call it that gave them the strength to carry on up the mountain. We passed an old lady and a young 20ish girl walking together, the older lady chanting a prayer and the girl, probably her daughter repeating it after her. There were young couples carrying babies in their hands and older people encouraged along by their families.

We reached Hemkund around 11.30. We could catch glimpses of the temple over the last few bends and we reached the summit to be welcomed by thick mist and sweeping winds. We got off our ghodas and made our way to the main temple area carefully sidestepping the droppings of the many mules ‘parked’ at the entry point.

The lake was almost covered completely by mist and we could barely see the surface at some points. The Sikhs bravely shed their clothes and holding on to a rope dipped themselves in the lake- not once but thrice. We took a few photos at the lake area and then went into the shelter of the gurudwara. Liza and I were too frozen to remove our raingear and shoes and enter the main area , so Vidya quickly took a look inside and joined us in five minutes. We then went to see the Lakshman temple adjacent and left Liza in the warm shelter of the gurudwara. As we made our way back to the gurudwara the mist began to clear and the lake was more visible as were the surrounding mountains. We found Liza, who was chatting up with the people who looked after the gurudwara. They told us a little about Hemkund and how the army was called in every June to break the ice on the lake for the pilgrims. They also insisted that we too take a dip in the lake waters in the separate ladies section and tried to convince us that one would feel refreshed after the dip and that it wasn’t all that cold. We didn’t believe them!

We decided to head back soon and when we walked to the entry point there was no sign of our ghodawallah. We only knew the names of the ghodas- so we kept calling their names, much to the amusement of the other ghodawallahs. Luckily, we spotted him ‘chilling out’ in a corner and we got back on our ghodas. His name was Lakshman. The ride down on the ghodas was even more torturous that the one up- we were even tied to the saddle of the ghoda so that we wouldn’t fall off. Lakshman instructed us to brace our feet against the stirrups and lean back to balance ourselves and we discovered it did really work – in reducing the torture, not eliminating it!

Our trip down was quicker and we were at the same chai shop in no time. We stopped for a snack and got back on the ghodas and set off. Two minutes down the slope, Lakshman discovered he had left back his umbrella, and after talking the ‘ghodas’ into waiting for him, he ran back to pick up his umbrella. The train of ghodas was being led by Kamala, who decided she didn’t want to wait any longer and set off, the others obediently following. We tried to get them to stop, and pleaded with passerbys to help. There we were three maidens on horses (ok, let your imagination run a little wild) and nobody was willing/able to help us. Screams of “lakshman ji, lakshman ji” [in retrospect, in a very filmi style!] didn’t help, except to amuse the other pilgrims and we began to get more frightened with every bend in the road. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lakshman ji appeared and was severely scolded by us!

We reached Ghangria without much other excitement or scares. The horses refused to move beyond their usual resting place a little outside the village area, so we hopped off and walked back to the hotel. Vidya had decided to get down a little earlier and came back a little after we reached. It was still bright light when we reached, we stopped for a quick late lunch (for me mostly) at one of the numerous Punjabi places before heading to our room.

We were all bone tired by this time and hit the bed for some zzzz. Liza took a walk out and met Shekhar. He later sent some chocolate to the room and a thank you nice to have met you note. We had planned to take a walk down to the sarovar park tent area but never got around to it that day. We passed time playing word games (the UNO cards were unused through the whole trip) and after dinner we all fell asleep.

Chpt 7. Magic Land

12th August

Aah! Finally! The day that we were waiting for had arrived. Today we would visit the Valley of Flowers, the highlight of our entire trip. We were advised to pack breakfast and lunch, something we had planned the previous night itself. There were no commercial stalls or sellers – we would only meet fellow trekkers. This would be pristine untouched nature at its best. We were set to leave at 7.30 am. Unfortunately the restaurant bungled our order and we managed to leave only past 8 am.

The Valley of Flowers, about 3500 mts above sea level high, is sited within the Nanda Devi biosphere and is covered by stringent forest protection regulations. The most interesting rule I saw was ‘no species of plant or flower or insect to be carried out, either living or dead’. No mules are allowed and typically, one treks the 3 km path, an estimated 2 hour track. For the others, the pittoo man or the palki option is available.

The Valley was first discovered by Frank S Smythe - mountaineer, explorer and botanist – who chanced upon it in the monsoon of 1931 while looking for an alternative path to Badrinath. He authored a book called "The Valley of Flowers" which unveiled the beauty and floral splendours of the valley and made the world sit up and watch. It was declared a national park in 1982, and now it is a World Heritage Site. It boasts of a staggering 300+ species of exotic flowers and plants including some rare ones found only on high altitudes. And today, we would get to see it all! On my list were the Edelweiss and the Himalayan blue poppy.

A one km trek from Ghangria, with quite a lot of climbing and we reached the entry post where we registered our names and met our guide, Shekhar. Apparently, the group whom we were to accompany had left before the scheduled time, without him. We started the 3 km trek with much aplomb; we were on an expedition to identify the various species and in my case, to remember the common names of the flowers. Shekhar acquainted us with both the botanical and the common names, the former failing to register at all.

We soon began spotting the flowers, thick with dew - the Himalayan blue poppy, cobra lily, forget-me-nots, potentilla, petticularis, sasuria, balsam, etc. We stopped at many points, each time to observe a new genus or type. And instantly after this, all of us would assemble at the spot, cameras taken out to meticulously photograph each flower and various comments passed. We were making full use of our resourceful guide. An elderly couple, watching us keenly, asked us if we were students of botany and seemed disappointed that we were tourists.

This trek, fuelled by the flora fervour, was comfortable, almost to the point of being languid. No doubt, there were several steep mounts en route but we did get the advantage of flattish ground. Past 11, we were hungry and realized that we had done a little over half the distance only. We wanted to stop and eat but Shekhar kept talking of the big rock, a largish rock that offered a natural protection from the rain, a customary resting place to have lunch.

It soon started raining and out came our functional raincoats – here, they came in so handy, compared to our windcheaters. We soon passed several people returning, loudly praising the valley [except for one who wasn’t pleased and said ‘nothing much to see’ about it]. They probably had risen very early in the morning – some folks do both VOF and Hemkund the same day. Some were also returning due to the rain. In a short while, we began overtaking people, our speed was back in form.

We passed frozen ice along one part of the Pushpavati river, the water body that flowed close to the trek path. The ice, almost like sleet, was probably a remnant from the snow of previous seasons that refused to melt. All along, we followed the flowers, the different species sometime in clusters, sometime not. We began recognizing some of them too. But we were not yet in the Valley. At some points, we had to stop to allow the rain to ease off a bit.

We crossed sections of the river several times – we went across some dry rocks that formed a natural bridge over the stream or rudimentary bridges in places where the stream was much larger. At one point, there was a small landslide and the wet mud had been pushed back. We trekked over it, much excited, little knowing that we were to see more landslides in the days to come.

Some more uphill and downhill trekking and we could see the big rock. The topography around it was flat – valley like - it was completely covered by meadows and meadows of flowers. Almost like a pink carpet, from a distance. A small path was marked in the centre for walking. On reaching it, all one could see around for miles were fields of differently hued flowers. Around the big rock, growing in profusion, were the pink balsam and some white coloured flowers, as though in unrestrained exuberance.

It was 12.30 pm and we had our breakfast/lunch at the big rock, along with some pittoo wallahs, to whom we gave the larger part of our lunch. We also met the Nature Admirers group, folks from Bangalore [Blr]. Post a yummy heavy meal of aloo paranthas/ tomato omelettes, we hit the road again, with the Blr group in tow. The plan was to go a further 2 km into the Valley, cross a stream and see the memorial of Miss Margarate Legge - a botanist, deputed by the botanical gardens of Edinburgh, arrived at the valley in 1939 for further studies. While she was traversing some rocky slopes to collect flowers, she slipped off and was lost for ever in the garden of the gods. Her sister later visited the valley and erected a memorial on the spot where she was buried by the locals. The thoughtful memorial is still there and the lines inscribed on the marble slab read: "I will lift mine eyes unto the Hills from whence cometh my strength".

The pink and white flower blankets gave way to a spread of myriad colours – lavender, violet, indigo, purple, pink, yellow, cream, mauve, white, blue, etc – all in various incredible shades. It was almost like entering a magical land. We felt special, at being able to visit this heavenly abode. Even as I write this travelogue, 3 weeks later, I can close my eyes and my mind wanders to the enchanted Valley that held me spellbound with its unparalleled beauty, pure air and magnificent splendour.

The Valley is in itself not perfection, none of that manicured artificiality, segregating different species of flowers. Here, the same patch of ground would have a number of flower types, in various stages of germination. Every 3 weeks, a different flower type blooms, creating a completely different coloured landscape. And this perpetual variation of colours from May to August adds another admirable element to the wonders of the Valley - it is perfection at its natural best.

The Valley of Flowers extends some 66 km into the area – we would be seeing a small portion of it. Most folks return from the big rock itself, which is an even smaller part of the Valley. About 500 mts after the big rock, Vash decided to return with the Blr group while Vidya, Shekhar and I carried on. We crossed small stream of clear running water - a traditional watering spot. We too stopped and tasted it – it was ice cold and weirdly tasty – probably packed with minerals – the authentic Himalayan drinking water.

Weighed down by our heavy lunch and the now consistent drizzle [we had some relief from the rain earlier], we decided to go till the main stream [about 1.5 km from the big rock], foregoing the visit to the memorial. Thick fog kept enfolding parts of the Valley and it was dreamily fairylike - each step kept unfolding different flowers and colours, earlier unseen due to the fog.

We reached the stream point and here the true essence of the valley descended on us - the valley and its pastoral delights could be panoramically viewed in a 360 degrees sweep. All around as we twirled, we could see the gently sloping valleys and the mountains within which it was nestled, filled with relatively homogenously coloured flowers of pink, purple and white, thrown into relief here and there by riotous patches of different coloured flowers.

As I stood there, surrounded by the peacefulness in the mystic land, the emotions that rose unabated in my heart are difficult to describe. I later found a phrase by Frank Smythe in his writings that captured a part of that emotive feeling, “a contentment of spirit beyond all earthly imaginings".

The trek back was fun and super quick – I find trekking down much easier. We soon caught up with Vash and the Nature admirer group [including her new friend, Dev…wink, wink]. We were at the Ghangria bridge by 4 pm, tired but elated, with shiny faces and brimming spirits. While walking into the town, we came across a masseur, a local lady who promised an authentic foot massage with some herbal oils of the area. Vidya and Vash decided to go for it, while I would decide later. The masseur followed us to our balcony.

We ordered our evening chai and pakodas and made ourselves comfortable on the balcony – I had heard the Surd family leave very early in the morning and figured that they had checked out – so us lolling on the balcony, getting our foot massage was cool. My shoes being wet, I stepped into the room, to roll the sneakers in newspaper so that by morning, all the dampness would have been absorbed. Finished, I came out to the balcony and decided to get the massage too, not that it was any good as per the girls. Both Vash and Vidya went back into the room. Anyway, so there I was, all legs, the massage having just begun and the Surds from next door returned –the father and the son duo. Talking about cringing embarrassment, I looked everywhere but at their faces.

When the girls came out again, I learnt that the whole Surd family had returned when Vash was getting her massage. I was spared the full mile mortification - that seemed to be Vash's prerogative! NO MORE massages and it was certainly a crap massage - barely for 5 mins, it was of a blink-and-miss-it kind. And during it, having to listen to the ridiculous silly yarns of the faux local lady [not really local pahadi, but a migrant from another state] was hardly amusing. Total fraud that she was! We just put it down to an experience of the place!

It started raining later in the evening. We ordered dinner in and began bundling ourselves in our woollens to beat the increasing cold. I tried the soup and milk option, the latter being a local drink, flavoured with dates and cardamom. I usually hate drinking milk, even in my childhood days but I quite enjoyed this variant - it became my staple dinner supplement there [i.e. for 2 nights]. We’d had an enriching day, filled with vivid experiences and in that sense, it was long. We were in bed even before the lights went officially out [i.e. before 10 pm].

The next day, we would be tackling the highest altitude point ever in our lives - Hemkund, known as the highest site of worship in India at a height of 4400 mts above sea level. A steep challenging climb of 9.5 km one-way, more gruelling due to the terrain, incline and weather than the distance. We’d had our fill of trekking, it was ghoda mode for all three of us. But for now, images of the magical land, that we were blessed to visit, kept lingering in my mind before sleep soon overtook consciousness.

As Frank Smythe wrote about the Valley, “All about me was the great peacefulness of the hills, a peacefulness so perfect that something within me seemed to strain upwards as though to catch the notes of an immortal harmony” - For me, the Valley of Flowers was paradise on earth.

Chpt 6. The 13 km trek

11^th August

We were up early and checked out at 6.30 am, with promises from the front desk manager to give us a front facing, room with balcony when we returned after 3 days. We had bookings for 2 nights at Joshimath. Initially our plan was to get back to Joshimath upon our return to Govind Ghat [GG] and leave the next day to Badrinath, from where we would return to Joshimath and stay another night. We knocked off the Nanda Devi national park from our plans since we got varying reports from its distance from Joshimath and the routes weren’t structured/ convenient to get there. Auli, the skiing resort, though off-season in August, but very close to Joshimath could also be visited.

We left one bag each in the store room, charged at a nominal fee. Now with one piece luggage each, we donned our trekking avtaars. We were geared in woollens, ready for the biting cold that we would soon encounter. The bus would start from the old GMVN guesthouse, but situated almost right across a field from our guesthouse, though at a lower level.

The bus, now filled with its group, consisting largely of Gujratis and Bengalis, began the winding drive to GG at 7 am. We reached in an hour and arranged with the driver [one Mr Suri Rawat – aah, now we figured whom the dog was named after!] to pick us up when the tour also returned to GG after 3 days. The tour plan was to go straight to Badrinath from GG and entailed no return to Joshimath.

Rawat helpfully volunteered to get our baggage from the stores in Joshimath and arrange for our accommodation to be transferred to Badrinath and Pipalkoti - the night stop points for the two nights as per the official tour plan – so that we could continue in the GMVN tour bus. Since the ride on the bus would be much more convenient than getting there ourselves, we preferred it. If Rawat could manage it!

We handed over our baggage receipt to Rawat and proceeded to begin another journey, a 13 km trek to Ghangria - the last big one before our destination, the Valley of Flowers. By now, we were introduced to the tour guide, Rana and knew some members of the tour group. We were soon surrounded by the group of locals, getting us to hire their mules or themselves [‘pittoos’] to carry either our luggage or us. The pittoos typically carry a basket on their back, supported by a strap on their heads and their hands hold the basket from behind – luggage is placed in it or children are carried, though we also saw adults sitting in it. A third option was the palki – a rudimentary form of a palanquin, made comfortable by cushions - carried by 4 people. The rates were progressively more expensive for each.

Even before we started the trek, our shoes got wet as we were crossing over to the other end of GG – a large stream was flowing onto the tar road and crossing it without getting one’s feet wet was difficult. At the gate before the exit bridge, we hired 2 mules [called 'ghodas' locally] – one to carry our luggage and the other to carry one of us – 13 km is a long stretch to trek, it could get arduous and with one spare mule, one of us could take a break at anytime. We also picked up handy raincoats for Rs 20 each, nothing more than 2 sealed sheets of plastic with a hood and sleeves, in bright colours .

At 8.30 am, we began our trek, inspite of our wet start, with full josh. Vash and Vidya, each with their walking sticks, almost like staffs, looked the part of explorers of yore on the road of discovery. My mind kept flashing back to the 1930’s when the Valley was first discovered and the fairly decent walking track was non-existent. Thinking about how the early explorers went about the overwhelming task of unearthing hidden lands, seemed intriguing and exciting.

Each of us had a different walking speed and needed a break at different intervals which made walking together difficult. Several steep turns later, Vash threw in the trekking towel and hopped onto her mule. She then proceeded as regally and comfortably as possible. Vidya and I continued walking, sometimes overtaking everyone else, sometimes downright slow. Vash undoubtedly overtook us but waited ahead at regular intervals along with our overenthusiastic ‘ghoda’ wallah [man] until we came into her line of vision.

Vash was upto adventures of her own – the most noteworthy being her fall from the ghoda while trying to mount it. The ghoda wallah was distracted and not paying adequate attention [probably thinking Vash was a pro, judging by her confidence on the ghoda]. The ghoda reared and lo! Vash was on the ground, being soon helped by the other ghoda wallahs who came rushing to her rescue. Needless to say, our ghoda wallah got a mouthful and was as vigilant as ever after that.

At each turn of the path, at each ascent or descent down a mountain, the landscape held us in awe. Truly breathtaking scenes unfolded – Gushing streams, painting white slivers against the dark brown rocks. Bigger streams, flowing unabashedly, in wild abandon, originating from a melting glacier somewhere much higher in the Himalayas, while all along mesmerising the land with its sounds, that of water, surging to meet the plains in all its exuberance. Lofty mountains, coloured in brown and the green of vegetation, with their peaks, playing peakaboo, sometimes covered in mist or sometimes being so high that the clouds claimed it as their terrain. The surprising green of the grounds surrounding the stony path of the trek, bringing sharp contrast to the staid browns. Inspiring sights, enough to keep our mind off the demanding 13 km.

The initial part of the trek, especially the ascents, was tough. Soon, we were sweating and gradually shedding parts of the sweater paraphernalia that we carried. Gradually, we got into the groove - we began to cope better and enjoy the trek. We frequently stopped, taking chai-time breaks or to enjoy some hot, delicious Maggi noodles [my personal favourite throughout the trip along with aloo parantha!]. Amongst the fellow trekkers, the majority were Sardars [Surds], making the pilgrimage to the revered Sikh site of Hemkund Sahib [also on our plan after the Valley of Flowers].

The temperature kept steadily dropping, something we realized only when we stopped walking. When moving, the increased body temperature and the sweat had kept the cold at bay. We managed to keep moving. Somewhere, after walking 8 km, prompted by the ghoda wallah’s constant beckoning [by now, he started riding the spare mule instead of walking along and guiding the pair of them] and a keenness to ride it – I hadn’t ever sat on a mule, leave alone a horse, for more than 5 mins - I decided to take a crack at riding it and joined Vash. Vidya stuck to walking and as usual, kept up the photography. I rode for about 2 km, it was fine but without the touch and feel possibilities that walking offered [I loved touching the cold water wherever the path curved close to the stream]. Also, photography on a ghoda is difficult and jerky - I got back to walking.

The trek had revealed spectacular scenery that just kept getting better as we climbed higher altitudes. Another experience that was intensely associated with the trek, apart from the sheer distance [yes! I managed to break all my previous marathon records, so what if we took our own sweet time to complete the trek] was the camaraderie that accompanied the trekkers. Whenever each of us took a break, we found ourselves talking to a number of people, all from different backgrounds, all united by the common endeavour of walking the challenging climb. Each time we overtook someone to whom we’d earlier spoken to or even folks we didn’t know, the exchange of smiles that resulted encircled us all in an atmosphere of warmth and conviviality, one that removed barriers of status, age, gender and faith.

I particularly remember talking to an old man from an obscure village in Punjab [so remote that I hadn’t heard of it and I am good in Geography!] – he didn’t even know Hindi and there we were – he conversing in Punjabi, me struggling to follow and replying in Hindi and broken Punjabi –anyway, I landed up sharing my mint Foxy toffees with him and then, later whenever I passed him, the broad grin that he flashed me from his wrinkled weathered face, truly struck a chord of tenderness.

This and many such encounters later, we found ourselves at the end of the trek. We had just passed the luxury Sarovar tents and the heli-pad - the backdrop was as splendid as ever – we took a few minutes to catch our breath and obey the board that stated – ‘Thoda ruk ke, prakriti ka anand lijiye’ – ‘Stop awhile to enjoy and admire nature’. Soon, we caught up with Vash in Ghangria, who had done some hard work in the time she had, having reached ahead of us. After evaluating hotels [specifically, the loos], she had checked into Krishna Palace hotel and into our room – henceforth known as the Blue Room, named after a vibrant blue that the entire room was painted in.

It was about 5 pm and we were in Ghangria – the base site for visits to Valley of Flowers [VOF] and Hemkund [neither permitted night stay, visitors had to return to Ghangria]. Typically, people stayed here for 3 nights before heading back. Our room had triple beds, barely enough place to spread out our stuff and a clean loo. We soon found out the peculiarities of the area, the hotel and our room – electricity only during 7-10pm, cold water for about an hour early morning, hot water a scarce resource, available in the morning at Rs 40/ bucket – also available in the evening with pleading, toilets with non-working flushes. Apart from all this, the room was great.

The room was on the first floor, had a delightful balcony/ sit-out that we shared with a Surd family next door. It overlooked the main street of the town, which was about 6-7 feet wide. A small documentary centre was on the other side. Just behind it were the fir trees and an awesome mountain view. The town was right at the foothills of the ranges - our balcony offered a view right in front of it and the spectacle - with the mist, ranges within a few metres and even Hemkund lake mountain visible – seemed picture perfect. We soon discovered our bathroom window also offered an unexpected perk – another mountain right next to it, a few metres ahead.

The town was small, one long street actually, where on one end, you entered after the trek and the other end, was the exit to go to VOF or Hemkund. We were right in the middle and one could watch the entire world of Ghangria pass by as one sat on the balcony. I spent early mornings over the next 3 days, alone [the girls were asleep], sipping hot chai and soaking in the fantastically misty sights – total ‘me’ time. Evening chai time was also a constant, this time all of us together.

The fast food centre was next door and soon, we were drinking chai, tastier with the hot pakodas that we ordered with it, bliss in the cold weather. Our breath had already begun to condense in a visible smoke like form. We soon saw Rana and the tour group members trickle in, more than an hour after us. We contemplated the peculiarity of our situation – that of having arrived after 4 days of travelling. We would spend 2 more days, after which we would start another 4 days of travel. Such was the path we’d chosen, certainly the road less travelled by. Mulling comes easy over a cup of tea, hot savouries - in a setting to die for – who knows? Here, we might do some serious introspection and stumble across a clairvoyant deeper meaning of life.

We went to watch the documentary that featured the Valley of Flowers and then got back to our room to relax. It had begun drizzling and kept getting colder. Vidya went to try the pco lines [no luck!]. While in search for a guide to visit VOF, she met the documentary film maker, Shekhar who agreed to take us along with another group. Instead of paying him his entire fees of Rs 1500, we’d have to pay him Rs 500 while the other group paid him the balance. We were in luck, what better way to visit the Valley than with an expert who knew the flower species in detail and would prove to be a valuable help?

An hour later, the drizzle turned into rain, the temperature got bitingly colder. I started getting the beginning symptoms of altitude sickness and a reaction to the cold, namely a headache and promptly took a tablet [thanks to being a seasoned UK traveller now and knowing the fix]. All was well then with me. Earlier we had organized hot water for our baths, pleadingly [experts at it by now]. Incidentally, the cold water was no longer just cold, it was ice cold. We ordered dinner in and just as the electricity went off, tired, we retired for the night - with 2 or more layers of clothing and sweaters, socks, woollen cap, et al – brrrr, it was freezing!

Chpt 5. Roughing it on a bus!

10^th August

The ‘unreliable’ tuk-tuk chap was on time, our breakfasts packed by the hotel staff [part of our package fare] and by 4.15 am, we were at the local bus station as per schedule. The tuk-tuk chap showed us the first bus which would leave the soonest and we boarded the rickety looking local bus. Lousy seats, cramped space, no other tourists. That should have been a sign. Nevertheless, Vidya went to take a quick look at the other buses. Most of them were none the better and the ones that were marginally more comfortable had later start times. It was imperative for us to take the first bus as it was a long 12-13 hour journey and the sooner we reached, the easier would be finding accommodation. Infact, in the Garhwal area, early morning travel is the norm, the last bus is at 9 am since anything later than that, would result in the bus reaching beyond the stipulated 8 pm deadline when roads would be closed.

We decided to stay put on the bus we’d boarded. Who knows? It might be comfortable after all. Well, it turned out to be the worst bus journey of our lives. To start off, the bus went ahead to the next road and stopped until the bus was filled to capacity. About a quarter past 5, after several minutes of watching other buses zoom past, our bus, packed to capacity, finally started moving. We were leaving Rishikesh, gateway to the Himalayas and starting yet another journey within our overall trip.

The seats were smaller than usual size, approx 15” in width, and without any arm rest. The result was that whoever sat on the aisle end kept falling off whenever the bus braked. And invariably it turned out to be Vash who was initially sharing the seat with me. I can vividly recall her holding on to the seat ahead [with no handles or hooks] literally with her life and still falling on to the luggage laden aisle.

Eventually, all through those excruciating 12 hours, moving from the plains to the mountains, from dawn to evening, we kept swapping seats, trying to catch a better view of the area or solitary seats, just as passengers got off along the way, leaving them vacant. In a way, each of us got our share of falling off seats. At other times, we had to share our seats with the local folks. Apart from the cranky old man grumbling about everything or the local romeo talking to his sidekick in broken English to impress us – we encountered largely normal people, more curious about us and our travel plans.

Funnily, each of us coped with this bus journey in a different way – Vidya working the shutterbug constantly, moving from one window seat to another, searching for that perfect shot. Me, duly fired up with my anti-nausea pills and chewing spices to keep the puke down, watching the view, snoozing on and off and moving from one window seat to another, searching for that unrestricted supply of air on my face to shake any signs of nausea away. Vash, largely sleeping when she wasn’t falling off the seat, and moving from one window seat to another, searching for that undisturbed place where she wouldn’t be at the risk of falling. Like they say, each to her own! Anyway, without a single loo break, and just a couple of stretch-your-leg breaks, the bus just seemed to go on and on, without really getting anywhere.

What kept us going were the marvellous facets of the mountain territory that we were treated to - craggy surfaces, streams, peaks and valleys. This was my third trip to Uttaranchal [also known as Uttarakhand or UK as the locals and license boards of vehicles proclaimed], the previous times were to the Kumaon ranges. Yet the sights held me in awe with their wondrous beauty. A humbling experience indeed!

Several hours after we left the plains, at about half past 1, our bus packed up in a town that appeared to be a transit point, what with the number of buses around. The break down seemed contrived and later we were told that it was purposely done to avoid going on the Joshimath route. The driver handed over the remaining fare that would get us to Joshimath and we were left to transfer to a bus that would take us only to Chamoli. From there, we’d need to get another bus to Joshimath. Painful!

Vash did a quick investigation and found a direct bus to Joshimath that would leave in about 15 mins. We quickly transferred on to it, with our luggage in tow. The conductor later told us that the current bus had left from Rishikesh at 5.30 am itself and incidentally, they had seen us boarding our previous bus. Apparently that bus didn’t go on the Joshimath route and the break down was an excuse, a convenient method to get passengers off without trouble. Really, the crooked minds of people, all in the name of commercial interest!

A half-an hour lunch break with food at a decent hotel and a much needed loo visit coupled with a bit more wider seats, made the journey a bit more comfortable. We reached Joshimath at about 5 pm and began to walk up a slope in search of the new GMVN guesthouse where we didn’t have a booking but seemed our only hope of comfortable lodgings for the night. There was another slope on which the guesthouse was located. Leaving Vash with some luggage, Vidya and I trudged up slope no. 2. We were in luck. After explaining that we had bookings for 2 days later that week and that we had contacted the Rishikesh guesthouse too, we managed a room. A functional, barely comfortable room for the same price of Rs 600 as for a deluxe room, but we were sure it was better than a room elsewhere. Moreover, since this was the GMVN guesthouse, it would open doors to help us with our modes of travel to Govindghat the next day morning.

We zipped down, caught up with Vash, hired a coolie to take the luggage up – Vash’s luggage didn’t have wheels like the both of ours – while we sipped some delicious chai at a roadside stall. By now, Vidya, a hitherto tea/ coffee non-drinker, became a chai-drinker and had begun to enjoy it. For Vash and I, total chai freaks, it was wonderful to sample the different flavours of tea, prepared in different styles as we traversed several kilometres into the Himalayan country. But never mind about the tea, it could well be the topic of another blog of mine, so intrinsically a part of my life it is.

Coming back to our Joshimath interlude, it didn’t matter that our room didn’t have a balcony – hey, beggars can’t be choosers and we were lucky to get a room at GMVN. The lobby had an awesome view of the mountains, enveloped in parts with mist and right in front. Without anything to block the view, the guesthouse was literally snuggled amongst the mountains. We were well and truly away from the warm weather and in officially cold temperature land now.

We spent the evening, grumbling about our horrendous bus ride for some time and then unwinding, with sweet chai and hot pakodas, in front of the hotel entrance with the mist, the majestic Himalayas towering above us, the increasing cold, a slight drizzle and a domesticated mountain dog called Rawt for company. We can ignore the fact that I was scared of the dog and would get up every time it came near while Vash, without a care or fright, kept indolently talking to it. Anyway, the thought of a dog at our heels completes the peaceful imagery that I hope my words have evoked.

It had been 2 days since we began travelling and it would take another day to get to our first destination. In the meanwhile, we were enjoying the “getting there” bit, like the quote by Lao Tzu - "A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving."

After somewhat luxuriant baths [water, leave alone hot water, would turn into a scarce resource after this] and somewhat un-delicious food [for which we had to order 3 hours in advance] and the usual re-packing and the chatting, we called it a night at about 11 pm. The next day, we would travel to Govind Ghat, which was the starting point for trekking to Ghangria, and was located 23 km away. Rather than booking an expensive cab to take us there, we arranged with the GMVN guys to organize a ride on the GMVN official tour bus. Ofcourse, it was unofficial, meaning we’d probably have to sit in front in the driver’s cubicle and the fare we’d pay would, in all likelihood, go as a tip to the driver. We certainly didn’t mind! We were getting a hassle-free ride and that, given our famous bus ride from Joshimath, ranked high on our list of priorities.