Just because - Prachi Shrivastava

Someone recently asked me about my one main personal reason to trek. He said that for him it was the mental piece that trekking up a hill brought. I said that for me it was the motivation to fill the empty pages of my travel Moleskine with helpful notes and bizarre nomad tales. But then this weekend happened. And what has actually driven me to trek regularly all along revealed itself – somewhere near Kareri village.

Kareri village is a Gaddi village an hour (22km) out of Dharamshala (by motorable road) featuring vast fertile lands lush with wheat, icy gushing streams, Sherpas herding sheep, a few huts, about a hundred village folk and a poultry farm. If one ventures on a 16km trek up the green undulating slopes upward from this village, one crosses some breath taking meadows and a number of impressively crafted shelter caves to reach the Dal lake – a pristine lake situated at a height of 4700m up the Dhauladhars.

Before we get to the weekend’s revelation – my personal reason to trek – let me get into its contextual setting. 25 of us from Delhi and Chandigarh set about to trek up to the lake and camp for the night by it, this Saturday. We parked our tempo traveller by the village, picked up our tents, sleeping bags, ready to eat and ready to cook food, water and rucksacks, and began stepping up the trail. However, the sight of the lake was not to be for 20 out of the 25 trekkers.

The 20 who did not make it, did not suffer any casualties on the trail – far from that, they lived a gala adventure. From tracking down the half of the group which initially lost the trail, to trekking almost the entire way up in heavy rain, to crossing a fiercely heavy stream in the dark, taking inadvertent ice baths in it and continuing up the trail in the darkness. Finally again losing the trail, splitting from the group and climbing a 70 degree incline to pitch tents on a hill at 1:30am and surviving on the insufficient food and water left with their part of the group. However exertion and a time constraint got the better of their will to reach the lake the next day.

The five, including me, who meanwhile made it up to the lake the next morning did it on 4 hours of sleep and empty stomachs – but oh the beauty of the lake, the meadows and the homey shelters on the way made up for the toll the two hour climb took on us, and how!

But over the weekend all 25 of us gained something in common, regardless of reaching the lake or not reaching it, crossing a stream expertly or slipping into it, managing to lose the trail or not losing it. The common gain was –  a fabulous weekend on the road less travelled, in its preserved and unexplored trenches, in the company of people who do not say die when they have to climb a mountain.

And that is, and has always been, the actual reason which drives me to trek so often. 

The unmatched joy of landing a cave in the lap of nature, previously hit by a select few on the power of their physical and mental endurance, and clinking mugs of Old Monk with similarly privileged buddies. I am in love with the echo that our laughter creates in dark valleys at such heights the prospect of climbing which does not charm every other tourist. The wait for another weekend of gossiping until the fire dies down at another newly discovered nature marvel, is too long for me.

In this weekend’s life-sized film, my heroes were: the debutante trekker in our group who jumped into the middle of the river-crossing action to help others despite his inexperience, the experienced one who didn’t let his energy die until the very end despite skipping several meals and lifting several rucksacks, the ones who kept the smile on and the chatter and jokes coming even at the prospect of having to continue uphill way past bedtime and in never-ending rain, the group leader who literally bulldozed an entire tempo traveller out of damp muddy pits with his one tiny body – instead of resigning to wait until the wet road becomes motorable again, and then the five of us with a one track mind focussed on reaching the lake instead of on our own weary bodies.

Why do we climb up a hill? Just because! And life is too short to create enough memories on caves and ridges and streams and in forests with all my “just because” buddies. Which is why I am already up planning my next one, and so are some of them from what I hear!

Romantic destinations: A date night at Jamnaala

Written by: Prachi Shrivastava

You can go to sleep here too! (Jamnaala)

Are you a nature lover who wears travelling pants? Do you also not shy away from a good hike ever so often? Do you end up romanticising nature whenever you’re treated to the ‘perfect scenery’? Is your significant other just the same?

If you answered those questions in the affirmative, an outdoor camping date night is just your thing.

For me, personally, that feeling of just the two of us lying somewhere at the end of the world does it. What also does it for me: A man expertly manoeuvring a good fire in the windy woods, artfully pitching up our camper’s tent, and who has something to show in the department of cartography and celestial trivia. (Ladies, don't you vouch for the magnetism of a dude who puts his arm around your shoulder and gently guides you to a Milky Way or a North Pole you've never laid eyes on before?)

In October Fireballs gave you a taste of what a date night by Spiti’s beautiful glacial Chandra Taal might feel like, this weekend we have upped the adventure quotient a notch and have dug out a romantic getaway on a trekking trail in the outer Himalayas.

We bring you Jamnaala – a camping station midway on the 19km hike up to the Churdhar peak.

Reaching Jamnaala at sunset (November end, 5pm)

Picture a meadow fenced off from the forest by coniferous and rhododendron, with the backdrop of breathtaking majestic mountains, and rich Sirmauri flora decorating the meadow itself. If you reach on time – at sunset – your senses will be treated to the richness of an Opal-like sun turning into a giant orange globe at which point the meadow is ten shades of green with streaks of bright orange.

Imagine giving each other a comforting foot rub huddled by a bonfire after a long and tiring day’s hike, intertwining fingers with each other (or whatever it is that you kids are doing these days!) beneath the Milky Way, gazing at a moon so close (even a full moon if you plan your trip well) and talking about all the crazies and fancies you hardly get to discuss in routine life, then waking up the next day to have breakfast in paradise.

Jamnaala - 8am

Do you know how many million stars stud the sky overhead at this place? It’s 69!

How to get there

Jamnaala is 9 km uphill from the Nauradhar village – a base point which is 70 km (or roughly three hours) away from the nearest town, Solan. The first kilometre of the trek involves climbing steep rocks, but the rest of it is a straight incline.

It took the two of us five hours, after starting at 12pm (including a half hour lunch break at one Lucky Dhaba right after the steep rocky climb, and three shorter breaks) lugging at least 10 kg camping backpacks each to reach the meadow at 5pm which was the perfect hour to arrive.

If you are not driving down to Nauradhar and are taking HRTC buses to the place, be sure to ask enough locals to triple-check the bus timings because buses from Solan to Nauradhar: not too frequent and also prone to cancellation!

What to bring

Yes, our 10kg backpacks were the result of lack of planning; and No, you won’t have to lug that weight to enjoy your date night!

What you need between the two of you:

- a tent (check out this ‘ultralight’ Quechua tent for 2 people) which weighs 2 kg;

- a fire starting kit (less than 1 kg);

- 4-season sleeping bags for each of you (or you might fancy going for this Northface sleeping bag for two people – 3kg); and

- cooking stove (And here’s how you can make one on your own using beverage cans – it weighs 2 kg).

Those essentials together weigh 8 kg between the two of you. Other than that you need some easy-cook food which you can grill over the fire without the need to carry any cooking utensils.

And trekkers, wine! Gigantic swigs of the Old Monk are likely your staple on cold nights, but this being date night we say chuck the Monk and bring two wine glasses with some Cabernet Sauvignon to the camp!

There you go - A total 10-12 kgs (Allowing for water weight)! That’s nothing between two hikers tempted to reach a coveted venue, and who have the entire day to do so walking the woods through a moderate incline with breathtaking views.

PS: Why make the cooking stove when you can grill your snacks over the firewood? Because the warmth from the tiny beer can stove will do wonders for the insulation of the inside of your tent in the freezing cold night, should you choose to cook inside. 

Also, should you choose to bring food that is not to be grilled but to be cooked with water, you will have to trek back 800m downhill for the first water source.

Best time to go

November. November. Sweet November!

The underside of your meadow will be a track of snow, the view of the mountains will be ivory-like since the snow has set in and alpine flowers that spring up at this time lead the ranks of beauty.

Also, the Churdhar is a hot trekking destination at all times except near season end. Trekkers hit it in droves from March until October, so if the point of your date night is distance from the crowds, try November!

The temperature at 7pm in November here was 4 degrees Celsius for us, with winds blowing at roughly 40km/hour. So yes, it will be chilly - leaving you no option but to snuggle! ;)

Starry night at Solan

View from the fireplace: Jamnaala

Getting lost in the mountains..

Written by: Prachi Shrivastava

Way up to Churdhar

I am sending a guardian angel – basically my present day self – to the three-day old me who got lost in the mountain jungles this Sunday when she hiked alone for the first time in her life. I hope the guardian angel is able to offer comfort to her when she starts feeling like a truly lost cause.

These are the things the guardian angel has to say to the “Me” of Sunday past:

This hour lost searching the forests for your trekking trail, is not really lost. It will add up. It will one day get you out of an “actual” life-threatening situation of course, but for today it will put into motion a sequence of mis-happenings that, eight hours from now, will lead you to the perfect bus.

This perfect bus has every comfort your body deserves after this hike. It is heated, has cushioned seats, and goes straight to your end destination instead of first dropping you off at a connecting port. The bus is fully booked, but for one last seat which is coming to get you, but baby you’d have missed it had you been on your target schedule and reached base point without the lag of this hour.

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The dhaba-owner’s family at the base point today will fascinatedly listen to your tales of climbing down the mountain alone, and will ask, “Didn’t you feel scared being alone in the forest?”  Acting cool as a cat, you’ll lend the finishing stroke to your staged performance with a “Not at all guys! What is there to feel scared in these beautiful mountains?!”

So, why not be brave now girl, in order to stay true to your performance a few hours later. Have faith that you will rescue yourself, really try not to feel scared and overwhelmed!

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Stop. Freeze right there! Why do you think you will brilliantly succeed in finding the correct route through the middle of this forest when, in fact, you ended up losing sight of an ALREADY established trekking route an hour ago? Stop going forward, turn back immediately, and find the point from where you first took the wrong way.

I can feel your inertia, but honestly, is this the best time to be lazy about having to exert climbing uphill again? 25 minutes after you start tracing your steps back you will come across a stony trail that will rekindle your faith in your right to survive.

This stony trail, curved steeply down towards the left, is your track! The correct track you didn’t even notice existed. 

At the beginning of your trekking expedition you were prepared to analyse and choose carefully whenever two choices of paths presented themselves to you. But in your hurry to complete your time targets you failed to even notice when the choices appeared an hour ago!

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I know you are physically unable to control your gigantic sobs because you feel you have the thoughts of absolutely no one with you in this trying situation, but look at me! You’re not alone. I am still there with you and always will be. 

Infact come, let me tightly hug you to give you a tangible belief of never being caught alone.

Though let me be clear. My hug for you is not meant to stop you from crying from your belly. In fact I am grateful that this deep crisis situation has come as an excuse for you to let out all the tears that used to get stuck in your throat from all those years of growing up and hardening. 

Blocked emotions are not so conducive to enjoying life to its fullest, you know. It is great that the mountains heard your hearty sobs today!

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You are convinced this is the end and all you really want at the moment is a fragrant hug by mum’s belly one last time before you’re taken away by a wild jungle bear? That hug, which seems so out of reach now, is all you need to prepare you for slipping down and hitting your head on a tree trunk or to fall straight into the valley to put you out of your misery?

That is just the lack of proteins and carbs in you talking, and not your giving up on your will to live, believe me you! Do you remember when you last had a proper meal? 36 hours ago! And the last bite of any food? 18 hours ago! You’re extremely thirsty from drinking water judiciously on this bright sunlit trail that you’ve been climbing down at full speed without a break.

10 minutes from these thoughts now, you’ll throw your 10 kg backpack to the ground, sit down and drink lots of water, and try your phone and your laptop dongle internet connection to reach a friend and let them know you are lost. Your attempts at connecting would fail (The jungles don’t have network range), but the 15 minute break it will afford you will calm you down and get your brain working again.

10 minutes after that break, you’ll find the blessed correct track.

But do remember to take this intensity of your craving for mum’s hug, back with you. Never forget what it felt like to have your birth-right so out of your reach at a point in life.

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The aesthetics of lostness

Finally, do take a moment to enjoy this hour. You’re going to terribly miss it when it is behind you. Miles of perfect crispy golden dried leaves beneath your feet, An opal shaped crystal ball of sun peeking out from between the fragrant tall pines and oaks that are all around you, your lungs are full of pure air that breathes so light and its chill is pinching your nose and flushing your cheeks red.  Tiny fiery orange alpine flowers make timid clusters in the brown barren wintery landscape one last time before the snow sets in.

Don’t you just enjoy being left alone with the sound of only your writing ideas for hours? Well, here you are! Relish this beautiful, beautiful setting for that luxury baby – gazing meditatively into the blue deep valley.

And look! Here comes a Monaal! And in a rare event, it is sitting quietly by your side, enjoying your vibe when infact all it does on sighting any human is run away!

Tell me now, how often and how many city journalists have this kind of weekend bliss? Lucky you!

The night I looked at you...

Written by: Prachi Shrivastava

Today the romance made me giddier than before. 

Lake Chandrataal

The twinkle from stars suspended in a Himalayan sky not too high above our heads replaced neon on date nights from fairy lights that hang on electric wires. The stars lit my eyes a little more, made his skin glow slightly more.

Lake Chandrataal

Today we sat across the sheen of a silica stone, no pearl white table cloth in our booth for the night. Soft leather, red couches gave way to the warm sand beneath us tonight. He brought me no red roses, showed up instead with a bunch of forest-fire red wild lilies – wildflowers that inspire to be without aspiring to become.

Today two wine glasses were missing between us, yet I couldn’t have been more high. Was it on account of being picked up from the mundane and placed right at the centre of the scene I had drawn on my easel for years? And finding out that the scene was more magnificent than what it had appeared from outside the easel?

Lake Chandrataal

Surreal blues, foggy greys, misty greens – now all bathed in the navy blue of the dark and broken only by the glimmering Chandra Taal – the glacier lake whose glory knew no bounds when torched by this full moon above us.

Today the “moon lake” made up the ambience in which manmade fountains, low hanging light fixtures or pottery barn usually take centre-stage. Cavernous lounge walls gave way to majestic mountains entrapping him, me and the lake.

Inside the ripple-free black lake we found blue dreams, white dreams, silver dreams and dreams of pure gold. Today there was no DJ playing trance on a loop but the white snow, blue sky, silver moonlight and golden mountain dust reflected in the Taal made him and I trippy.

Today I ordered no Lobster Mignon for dinner. We shared the Trout which he had fished out of the Taal when this lake was reflecting the golden scorching sun, misty green Spiti vegetation, and the cotton white and gold snow.

Embers from the stone Angithi over which his moonlit form meticulously barbequed our dinner, were like glow worms in the dark valley. In the act of mesmerising, they came second only to the angles of his figure bent over the barbeque grill. He was still wearing the 10-year-old muddy trekking boots which I so loved.

Lake Chandrataal

Today I began my day with a dip in the pristine mirror that was the moon lake and pretended to be a mermaid when the cold gripping my body tried to bully me out to its warm sun-lit shore. The shore lured me into a sunbath on the hypnotising green grass instead. Pretending was not hard, with his gaze transfixed on me.

Today I ended my night with his warm cushy chest fixed in the spot under my head where usually a pillow rests. The nook of his body protected me from this harsh, freezing, chilly night breeze. It was an added bonus to his heartbeat which fastens without fail whenever I place my head on it.

With a hundred thousand more stars than are my usual scenery on retiring every night, I slipped into dreamland with ease.

Today I was a mermaid, he was Zeus.

Camp Stay at Lake Chandrataal

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do!

Written by: Prachi Shrivastava

I bruise my silken legs and line my pedicured feet with deep muddy cuts. The soft velvety skin on my tailbone is now crusty crocodile-like, thanks to bristles from my rucksack. My lustrous hair has lost its sheen as it gathers mountain dust. My nails chip, my lips lose several dried up layers and I reek of goat stench. How squarely unladylike!

I am at 12,000 ft above sea level, the mellow warmth of the sun is missing from the scene and wind at 14 km/hr claims my ribs, but I sweat. I sweat and my cheeks flush crimson as I endeavour to make this mountain my own – climbing up the last 2000 ft of the Dhauladhar range to the Indrahaara pass.

My hips’ and thighs’ vulnerable soft curves are perpetually clenched - wary of slipping on the chilling canine rocks surrounding me. Clenched, they stiffen up. Their tenderness transforms into tight muscle – and I gain a defined stride and sure-footedness in this world.

I have left many loved ones behind in the city, but have carried their voices in my head all the way up here. The voices say: “Are you sure you want to do this?” “What is the big need to take this ‘thing’ up?” “You need to give it a good think, these things are not easy!” “Let it go, it is too strenuous, it is not for you!” “What are you trying to prove anyway?” Together the voices seem to share only one sentiment - I am a lost cause!

My heart pounds faster with rage at this sentiment, and my breathing loses its calm rhythm as I heighten my pace.  I put all my energy into drowning those voices through the speed of my moving feet. I am determined to glide through this “thing” I have taken up and find my bliss in my own passion instead of the one handed down to me by societal mores. I fully intend to carve my own niche.

The figurative mountain I wish to conquer sometimes rolls its eyes and sticks its tongue out at me – at my rawness, my weakness – and twice I give up. Snow that has made its way to my untrained trekker’s feet despite many safeguards is like daggers to my toes. I am close to my monthly menstrual cycle and the lack of oxygen at this altitude doesn’t help my stomach cramps. The fact that the gender accompanying me has never known the knife stabs I am dealing with in my abdomen, adds to my woe.

For a moment my rust brown, high ankle trekking boots refuse to budge another inch. But the boon of reaching 99 is that there is no option but to zip up to 100. I hardly have the option to turn back from the last 1,000 of the 14,000 ft I am covering today and so I gather my wits, look around and try to get over myself.

What I see, looking around, tickles my stomach. Here I am, claiming a spot on the mountains which I had earlier only seen from either an airplane or from a motorable road far, far away. And here I am – the sole life on that spot today. My sibling and I always fantasised about sitting on the cotton candy clouds in the sky above, and here I am living that fantasy today. The herb Ratanjot that had enhanced countless mutton dishes of Rogan Josh that I have relished in my life, sits lining my path here. The blinding white snow on the treacherously sharp boulders gives me no leeway to be careless here.

And why am I here? Because I have a pair of feet and I can! I can goddarn be wherever I want to be!

This freedom of being is not the only thing that inspires me to regain my enthusiasm. Warm-blooded hands that reach out to grab mine and get me up to speed have an equal role. The hands belong to a few liberated men, who need hardly any materialism in life to go on – let alone luxury. Their endurance is an example, their faces ever smiling, never flinching in the face of ceaseless physical effort – and all they want today is to help me conquer my mountain. Getting to match my steps with men like these gives me a heady rush!

With my resolve dying and reviving several times in the course of the climb, I finally make my way to the highest point of the trek. Another bout of tummy cramps hits me and I am the only one in the group doubling up in pain – the only woman up there. But nature smiles at my three-hour effort and decides to grant me the chance to be ecstatic at its unexplored beauty. The sun comes out, its mild heat helps my cramps dissolve and I open my eyes to the vast valley beneath the pass.

Opening my eyes I see liberation. There are more possibilities to my life than the petty everyday concerns I often find myself entangled in. In the face of the valley’s vastness I decide that there is nothing to do now but to let go. The hinterland of life, with its unexplored potential for surprises, starts from where we let go.

Why do I burden my weaker womanly frame with trekking-luggage when I can sit pretty and let men do it? To know for sure that I am never alone in this world as long as I wholeheartedly have myself for me! Why do I venture into the freezing, rocky lifeless wilderness of the mountains? Because I am free to do so, I am not bound by anything! Why do I not give up even though there is no worldly possession to be earned in climbing a mountain? Because to the one who can give birth, “giving up” does not exist!