10th 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
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
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.
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