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.
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.
1 comment:
Some are fortunate to experience nature's flourish such as this. For the rest of us, there is imagination :)
A beautiful account. Returning must have been tough.
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