Monsoon Trek to Bhimashankar

A re-acquaintance with the Sahyadris

To be in the Sahyadris in the monsoon is a treat. It is amazing to look at the marvels God can paint with a limited palette of green and black. The dense lush forests of Bhimashankar contrast beautifully with the freshly laundered black granite of the mountains. With the ample rainfall, each leaf dripping with little water droplets looks vibrant. But these forests and rocks accompanied with the rain make a deadly combination creating one of the most difficult environments to trek in. The thick thorny shrubbery houses innumerable bugs and insects buzzing around. The huge rocks, pointed in places, are overgrown with slippery moss. The dozens of little rivulets and waterfalls that make their appearance in the monsoons can convert the easiest of trails into a tight-rope walk. And that, precisely, was the thrill of a monsoon trek in the Sahyadris which I had come to experience after almost 6 years.

The Mountain of Bhimashankar

The Green Carpet

 

I joined the Times Trekking Group on one of their monthly treks, this time their destination was Bhimashankar. The temple of Bhimashankar is one of the twelve Jyotirlingas, situated about 120 kms from Pune. The river Bhima originates on this mountain and eventually merges into the Krishna River. In the holy month of Shravan the temple attracts a lot of devotees. But they take the vehicular road passing through Chakan, Manchar and Khed. Though a popular monsoon trekking route, we pretty much had the mountain to ourselves. Out of the two possible routes to the top, we were to take the Shidi Ghat route, which is more of a heads-on assault on the mountain, as compared to the more round-about and gradual ascent of the Ganesh Ghat.

The Incessant Rain

Tea stall

The Bhima River

 

One of the Rock Walls

The Shidi Ghat more-or-less involves walking straight up the massive wall of Bhimashankar, and requires a decent degree of rock-climbing. Wherever the rock wall is too steep to climb, a ladder (or a Shidi - in Marathi) has been fixed to the rocks to make the climb a little easier.  Hence the name – Shidi Ghat. It was very overcast, but not quite raining, when we started walking from Khandas village at 11 in the late morning. After a 15 minute walk, at the bottom of the mountain was the Bhima river, where we took the first halt at one of the little tea-shelters. Trekkers were happily playing in the river water as the rain started to pour down. The rain fell persistently, and I got totally drenched, but I had no complains, because that’s what happens to you in monsoon trek – you get wet! I only prayed that the double plastic lining in my “waterproof” backpack kept my belongings dry. 

One of the Ladders of Shidi Ghat

After a 20 minute climb, we came to the first of the three ladders of the Shidi Ghat. The ladder was in reasonably good repair, but had a few missing and broken steps near the top. The part that connected it to the second ladder had no railing, and was supported by a not-so-sturdy-looking wobbly log of wood. People went one-by-one up the ladder, and when it was my turn, I spent a few nervous moments climbing up these steps. By now it was raining heavily, and the skies showed no signs of relenting. Next was a long rock patch where there was no ladder, and over which an impromptu waterfall was gushing down. The muddy water crashed down with considerable force, and we had to climb the rocks through this water. I totally forgot that my camera was in my jacket pocket, which got flooded with water as I climbed up on all fours. When I eventually reached a point where I could stand on my two feet again, it dawned on me that I should have kept my camera safely in my bag when it started raining. Water poured out of the camera and its cover. That was the end of photography on this trek. Anyway, it was no use crying over spilled milk now.

For lunch, we sat down in a cave, the entrance of which was screened by another waterfall. To wash my hands, I just had to stick my hands out of the cave into the gushing water. How convenient!! Refueled, we started climbing up again. The next few rock patches were very tricky and made me continually wish either that I was a few inches taller, or that I had a few extra limbs – like a spider or an octopus. I did not notice it then, but my knees banged into the rocks a few times, and were quite bruised by the end of the trek.

This was a long trek, we walked for almost 8 hours, traversing rapidly darkening forests laden with thick fog. It would have been simply too easy to lose way here. But after some time, the temple loomed up from the mist and marked the end of the climb. There were several guest housed near the temple, in one of which we had booked rooms before hand. The next course of action was to go visit the temple, change into dry clothes, and then pay my undivided attention to the delicious dinner served by the owner of the guest house. Being so tired, I fell asleep within seconds of lying down.

Since it was a bad idea to follow the Shidi Ghat route while descending, the next day the rest of the team took the longer but the relatively easier route via Ganesh Ghat. But I had to say goodbye to the mountains here as I caught a bus from the Bhimashankar ST stand back to Pune.

 

 

Stok Kangri - The Summit Attempt

Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further

I lie curled up in my sleeping bag staring my watch – the luminous hands are glowing freakishly bright in the pitch dark. The hour hand has just passed 9. We had been sent to our tents at half-past-five in the evening, after a really early 'dinner', to catch a little shut-eye because we are supposed to be walking through the night. But as expected, I have not slept for even a second in the last few hours, and I doubt if anyone else has either. A sweeping range of irrelevant thoughts have gone through my mind in this time. While I lay in the tent, I could hear Anu coughing next to me, and it does not sound good at all. The cold that she caught two days back has only got worse. The moment the minute-hand of my watch strikes 6, the alarm goes off and I pop out of my sleeping bag.

We had spent the entire day at the base camp, and as I sat reading my book in the sunlight again, I was sadly aware that these were my last few hours of luxurious joblessness for the foreseeable future. After a while, bored of doing nothing, Emily and I went for a short climb up the nearest mountain, which lay en route to the summit. We got a view of the trail that we would be following, and got a better look at the Stok Kangri – it looked bigger than ever. On the way back, we met with a couple of foreigners who had attempted to summit the night before. One of them made it to the top and was ‘so exhausted that he felt like a zombie’, to use his own words. The other one could not make it, mostly because of the incompetence of his guide, he said. He was fittingly disappointed, and was describing to us how the trek route was full of huge boulders, and how he slipped and fell on the snow several times. Afraid that his very vivid account of the hurdles on the summit stretch would play on my mind, I quickly said good-bye and came back to my tent to pack up a small bag to carry tonight. It would contain only some food and water, extra batteries for the head-lamp, crampons, and yes, not to forget, sunglasses. Although we would start walking when it was dark, we would need those once the sun came out. I neatly packed all these things in the bag, and laid out all the clothing that I would be putting on at night.

But this uncharacteristic tidiness on my part goes for a toss when I am not able to find my head torch minutes before we have to leave. I haphazardly unpack my bag, search under the sleeping bag, dig out all the pockets of my jacket, and finally find my head torch in the corner of the tent. When I repack my bag, it’s a mess. Not that I care. I put on my several articles of clothing – the thermals, fleece and down jackets, two layers of socks, two pairs of gloves, a woolen cap and my head torch. As I put on my gaiters, I feel like a gladiator getting ready to step into the arena.  Anu has decided to stay back at the base camp, because she is not feeling too well. Ravi, Arun, Raja, Sohail, Shimoj, Mandar, Mubarak and I are in the first group, the slow-walkers, and will be led by Sandeep. We start off at 10 pm. Emily, Bhuvan, Salman, Abijeet and Durgesh will be led by Prakash, and will start later, giving us an hour’s head start.

Zero Hour

The eight of us in the first batch start walking in a relay formation, just like how a pedrail wheel works, ensuring that each of us gets enough rest during the climb, while also covering a good amount of distance. The dog has joined us, of course, and he runs easily along the trail. Ever so often he turns back to look at us, and I am sure I see him laughing at our wheezing selves.  ‘Come on,’ he seems to say, ‘it’s not that difficult’.

Soon enough we reach the top of the mountain that I had climbed this afternoon, and from here, we can see all the lights of Leh shining in the distance. Shivering in the crisp breeze, I imagine all the people sleeping in their warm cozy beds this night. Next time that I sleep in a bed, I say to myself, I will pray for that unknown someone out there on the mountains braving the cold. 

Time seems to be flying by with the speed of a jet plane. It seems like just 15 minutes have passed, when we see a trail of head torches at the start of the trail, undoubtedly belonging to the second batch of trekkers. The dark is somehow making things easier, we can’t see more than a few steps ahead and the treacherous mountains and the steep slope are hidden from us. And as Mubarak rightly points out, you can’t be scared of something that you cannot see.

The second batch is called the ‘fast batch’ for a reason, they soon overtake us. A switch of the leaders happens here, Sandeep now leads the other batch, while Prakash is leading ours. The plan is that Sandeep takes the faster batch to the summit, by when our batch would have reached the ridge, where we have to wait till he comes back and leads us to the summit too. This plan seems feasible enough. The turn-around time is set to 8:30 am, which means no matter where we are, we have to turn around and start on the way back at 8:30, because after this, the snow would start melting and would become impossible to walk on.

We keep walking. The intermittent patches of snow are becoming longer and longer now. I am terrified of walking on the narrow trail chalked out on the snowy patches, and the little dog, whose nose keeps poking at my ankles, makes me jump out of my skin several times. At one point, Prakash tells us to stop and put on the crampons, and I guess we have reached the glacier. All I can see under my feet now is white. With the crampons on, I tread on the snow much more confidently. The head torches from the faster batch keep pulling further and further away from us.

I have no idea what time it is, and I have no idea how much we have walked. When I turn to the left, I see a strange orange glow hanging mid-air in the distance. Must be a forest fire, I think to myself. (Later I realized how dumb that thought was – there were no trees on these deserted bare mountains, so where is the question of a forest fire… ;) ) The orange glow turns out to be the crescent of the moon, which looks unusually large from here.

The climb is getting steeper and steeper, and some of us are really struggling now, and are getting headaches. The number and the duration of the rest stops are increasing a lot, much to my annoyance. I am afraid that we won’t be able to make it to the ridge in time, and say this to Prakash. But he seems to be confident that we have lots of time and that we will make it. I am still feeling reasonably ok, and keep following every step of Prakash. (That is a good trick, as I later discussed with Bhuvan. Keep copying the trek leader to the t - take a step when he takes a step, and do not stop unless he stops.)

At last, I get too impatient with the frequent stops. I can see someone a long way up the slope flashing a light. I ask Prakash if I can break away from the group. He says, okay, and asks me to just walk in the direction of the flashing light. Still, I am not entirely comfortable going alone, and ask Shimoj, who also seems to be keeping good pace, to join me. The two of us decide to walk up the slope 50 steps at a time. As we advance up the slope, 50 steps become too ambitious, and we stop for a rest every 30 steps. In some time, we reach the source of the flashing signals – it is Bhuvan, from the faster batch, who is suffering from nausea and severe headache because of the altitude. I guess gaining altitude so quickly has not suited him too well. If he does not feel better in the next few minutes, he will turn back, he says. I feel bad for him.

The rest of the group is far behind us by now. Shimoj and I keep going on. It is starting to light up now, and I can see the trekkers from the faster group on the ridge. I feel happy. Perhaps we can catch up with them and go for the summit in the first group itself. The slope is so steep that we are stopping after every 20 steps now. It is impossible to keep a foot on this slope without slipping. So we have to painstakingly cut steps into the slope with our toes and our walking sticks. An ice axe would have been handy now, I think. I do not take even half a step unless I have a sure footing. The thought of slipping down and losing the precious altitude that I have gained is too much to handle. The people on the ridge appear bigger and bigger as we climb up.

I glance at my watch. It is 5:15 am. Lots of time before we have to turn around. I feel a little disappointed when I see Sandeep starts moving on towards the summit with the four people. Oh well, there is no need to worry. He will come back soon enough, or Prakash will reach the ridge and guide us to the summit.

Sunrise

As we are about to reach the ridge, the sun peeks out from behind the Karakoram Range in the distance. I stop to look at this glorious display of colors. When will I ever get a chance to witness a sunrise so beautiful! It is 5:40 when we reach the ridge. Sandeep and the others seem to making very slow progress towards the summit. I sit down on the narrow ridge. It’s been hours since I sat down. 8 hours of this difficult climb have taken a toll on me. I nod off to sleep, only to wake up with a start afraid of falling down on the other side. There would be no saving me then. I try to keep my eyes open. Sitting here doing nothing is making me feel incredibly cold. But there is no sign of Prakash and the others yet.

Shimoj suggests we start walking on our own towards the summit. He even starts walking in that direction. But we decide that it would be stupid to go further without a guide, without a rope and ice axe. It is 6:30 now. I pull out some food from my bag, and feel better after a snack. I am all ready to start to the summit now. 2 hours before the turn-around time. Hope still alive.

In a few minutes, Dr. Raja reaches the ridge. He brings some somber news with him. Bhuvan did not feel better and turned back to go to the base camp. The two helpers went with him. Sohail and the others had a difficult time climbing up the slope. With one misstep, he started rolling dangerously down the slope. Prakash had to go sliding after him to break his fall. He was exhausted from helping him and the others, who had decided to turn back, to a safer place. It did not look like he was going to be able to reach the ridge and guide us to the summit. Mubarak, who was walking without a stick, was terrified of going any further after slipping a few times. He caught hold of a rock and was sitting next to it for a long time.

The Ridg

Well, the only option for us now is to wait for Sandeep to come back. I turn to see their progress. They have not made it to the top yet. Suddenly, I seriously doubt that I am going to make it to the top. We keep sitting on the snow, getting colder by the minute.  Finally, at about 7:15, the faster batch of people makes it to the peak of Stok Kangri. We sit in the snow for a further 15 minutes.

For almost 2 hours, we have been sitting in the snow doing nothing, which is making me feel so cold I think my brain is going to freeze. I have to start moving now. In which direction, is the next question. It has already been decided that we cannot go towards the summit. Convinced that there is no way I would be able to summit now, and unable to wait any more, I decide to turn back.

The Way Back

On the entire trek back to the base camp, I was extremely angry. All the effort that I had put in was in vain now, through no fault of mine, I thought. I stood and cribbed to everyone who would listen how I had been denied a chance to summit. Many a times, I had to fight back tears of frustration. Usually the downhill walk is so easy, but today it felt more difficult than the 8 hour long climb. This was probably my only chance to summit Stok Kangri, and I had messed it up. Who knew if and when I would ever come back again?

We reached the base camp at noon. I sulked and stomped around. I almost resented the ones who were able to summit. I just wanted this trek to get over quickly. Sandeep asked me if there was a chance I could stay another day and attempt to summit again that night. But I had a stupid flight to catch to go back to my stupid life and my stupid job. I had to go back. The next day when we started on the way back to Leh, I was still in a bad mood.

But no bad mood, no matter how acute, can last long when one is walking in the Himalayas. The cheerful sound of the Stok River soon mellowed down my temper, and I was able to see the bigger picture again. Not being able to summit was just one of those unfortunate things that happen every once in a while. But summit or no summit, this had been a totally worthwhile trip. And this failed attempt had let me in on one more secretes of a mountaineer’s life – the sweet misery of a peak not summitted, of a job left unfinished!

The Team

Stok Kangri - The Acclimatization

It was visible from the road to Leh. It was visible from the market places in the town of Leh. It was visible from the Shanti Stupa and the Leh palace. It was even visible from the bathroom window of our hotel room. There was just no ignoring this huge mountain of Stok Kangri that we had come to climb.

Over the two days that we were given to get acclimatized at Leh, we went back to our eat-play-sleep routine. The several restaurants in Leh catering to the torrent of tourists that flocked the town in that season, served, surprisingly, the widest range of cuisines that I had seen under one roof. We could eat Indian, English, Italian, Tibetan, Israeli, Ladakhi, German and Chinese food sitting in the same café. One morning we climbed the 400 steps to Shanti Stupa, one of the modern Buddhist stupas in Leh, from where we got a great view of the town. This being the summer time in Leh, the days were very hot and sunny, and dissuaded us from venturing out of our hotel rooms. So we played all the card games we could think of. One evening, we went to the very unusual looking Leh palace, and also climbed to the nearby monastery. During all these moderate climbs, I was not happy with the way I soon started panting and puffing, and made me seriously doubt the possibility of me summiting Stok Kangri.

The Shanti Stupa

View from the Leh Palace

 Pangong Tso

On the third day, having nothing very interesting to do at Leh, I half-heartedly decided to join a few of my fellow-trekkers on a day trip to the Pangong Lake. The idea of another long drive on the mountain roads made me hesitate. But as it turned out, the trip, although tiring, was one of the highlights of this entire vacation. This huge 150 km long lake, two-thirds of which lies in China, made me redefine the meaning of ‘enormous’. Being in such vast expanses, which make me feel so insignificant, has always had a strangely comforting effect on me. I saw at least fifty different shades of blue that day. I was thankful that I got a chance to set my eyes on a landscape so enchanting.

On the deserted banks of the lake, I saw a man sitting outside a small tent that he had pitched, with his car strategically parked so that there would be shade on this tent. He was sitting there peacefully, reading a book. He looked like a snapshot from one of my dreams. Much as I wanted to go talk to him, I left him alone. When one day I sit in his position reading my book and looking at the mountains, I do not want random travelers disturbing me with small talk.

The man living my dream

Pangong Lake

Trek to the Base Camp

After all this great build-up, we started trekking from the village of Stok, which was about an hour’s drive from Leh. There were fourteen of us in all, and five members from the Trek the Himalayas team. The approach to the base camp was supposed to be tortoise-like - slow and steady. The idea was to gain altitude gradually, and then spend enough time at a higher altitude each day before coming back to camp. Almost throughout the trek to the base camp, we walked along the Stok River, or rather, on the wide rocky bed of the river. The river looked more like a stream early in the morning, but the water would increase in volume later in the day.

The Stok River

En-route the Base Camp

Our first camp was at Chang Ma, and on the next day, we camped at Mankor Ma. On the third day, we reached the base camp, which was at an altitude of approximately 5000 meters. On all the occasions, even after keeping a leisurely pace, we reached the next campsite in three hours tops. After settling down a bit at the camp, we were taken for acclimatization walks.

And there was a lot to explore. We just used to pick out a slope with a suitable gradient depending on how strenuous an exercise we were in a mood for. Many a times, we saw some wildlife around – herds of blue sheep and some majestic yaks. We also saw a lot of Marmots – or mountain squirrels. A dog had joined our trek group somewhere on the way, and he used to have a great game of chasing these Marmots, imaginary at times, over the mountains. It was incredible how the little canine used to run across the river and over the slopes at that altitude.  

Base Camp

It was always fun to walk among the mountains to work up an appetite. But my favorite pastime was to pick a nice spot and sit with my book near the river. My beloved Nook, my e-book reader, served me really well on this trek. This life suited me – walk some, breathe pure, eat well, drink fresh cold water from the river whenever thirsty, feel the warmth of the sun, read a lot, and look up to see the incredible mountains all around.  

One day before the summit stretch, we were asked by Sandeep, the trek leader, to sort ourselves out in two groups according to our pace – the faster ones and the slower ones. He would then describe the strategy that each of these groups were to follow for the summit stretch. That is when I was in a real dilemma - I considered myself slower than the fast ones, but faster than the slow ones. Not knowing how my body would respond to the rarefied air of the increasing altitude, the only logical thing for me to do was to put myself in the slower group. But I was feeling strong and healthy after all this acclimatizing – the initial foreboding and self doubt I had about summiting had disappeared. Despite all the show of vulnerability, I was confident that sometime over the next twenty-four hours, I would be standing on top of the Stok Kangri. 

In front of the Stok Kangri

Stok Kangri - the Travel to Leh

Thanks to the exorbitant flight costs from Delhi to Leh, Emily and I decided to reach Leh by road, with a stop-over at Manali. We took a bus from Delhi one evening, which promised to deposit us at Manali early the next morning. The journey was uneventful – we reminisced about the Chadar trek that Emily and I did together earlier this year, and tried our best to ignore the insufferable movie 'Ashiqui 2' which was playing on the TV in the bus. Finally the hero of the movie died and the movie got over; and we dozed off to sleep.

Manali

The next couple of days that I spent at Manali were the kind which one gets impatient with while they are occurring, but the memory of which is a source of comfort during the chaotic and busy day-to-day life. We did NOTHING at Manali – except eating and sleeping. We hopped from cafe to cafe, sat with our books on the banks of the Beas, and made fun of the typical tourists who throng Manali at that time of the year. The joblessness bored us at the time, but now, when I shuttle daily between home and office enduring the suffocating traffic, I fondly remember the fun I had walking up and down the hilly roads amidst the misty rain, looking at the tall Deodar trees.

The Beas

The Streets of Manali

This eat-sleep-and-eat-some-more routine was put to an end when we met Sandeep and the rest of Trek The Himalayas team (who would be guiding the trek) at Manali. We also met Abhijeet, another fellow-trekker, and all of us set out in a mini-bus on the long journey to Leh.

Heavenly Highway

There is no worthwhile travel show which has not featured the Manali-Leh highway at one point or the other. I was looking forward to this road trip almost as much as the trek to Stok itself. And the journey proved to be every bit as exciting as I expected, and then some.

We started off from Manali on an overcast afternoon, and made our way towards Rohtang. Dense clouds had descended on the road, and visibility was close to zero. I have no idea how the driver managed to keep the bus on the road, but I decided to leave those troubles to him, and settled down at a window seat for the roller-coaster path ahead. Rohtang pass was lost somewhere amidst these clouds, and we continued further till Khoksar. There was a tea-break here, and when I got out of the bus, I could feel the chill in the air. The road was along the Chandrabhaga River, and at Tandi, we saw the confluence of the Chandra and Bhaga rivers. Here, the road followed the Bhaga. Soon we were driving through the Lahaul Spiti valley. When we passed Keylong, it had started getting dark.

Khoksar

Zingzingbar

This highway is only two-lane wide at max, and is open in the summer months thanks to the BRO, which keeps constantly working at this road, cutting snow, clearing off landslides and repairing bridges. All along the road, we saw message boards put up by the BRO asking drivers to be alert and drive carefully. (Some of them were so amusing that the messages themselves could have distracted the driver: “Love thy neighbor; but not while driving”, “Driving after whisky can be risky”). The road was extremely bumpy in places. At one point, when it was pitch dark outside, the tires of the bus got stuck among the rocks and the bus would not go any further. The driver asked all the guys to get down and push the vehicle, while Emily and I kept sitting in the bus. As the bus climbed over the rocks, it tilted at a precarious angle, and the guys had to support it from the outside to keep it from toppling over. I was getting tired of this difficult drive, when we decided to stop for the night at Zingzingbar (4290 meters). Warm and cozy tented accommodation was available here for only Rs.100 per person. It was very cold at Zingzingbar. After a quick dinner of rajma-chawal, we borrowed extra blankets, and called it a night.

Suraj Taal

Baralach La

The next morning we proceeded towards Baralacha La (4890 m), after passing along Suraj Taal. A little further, the inevitable flat tire occurred. The sun had raised high in the sky by now, and we stood soaking in the sunlight while the tire was replaced. At Sarchu, there was one of the numerous army check posts that we saw on the way. Emily had to get her passport checked at each of these check posts. The road climbed from here over one hairpin bend after another. This series of hairpin bends is called the Gata Loops, and it is guaranteed that no organ in your body remains in its proper place once you have traversed these loops. To let them settle a bit, we stopped at Pang, and also decided to have lunch there.

At Pang - the Mother-Daughter who served us lunch

The bus with the flat tire

Bikers

As we were sitting down for lunch at one of the temporary tented restaurants on the way, we saw several groups of motorcyclists passing by. This highway attracts biking enthusiasts from all over the world. Though not easy to ride on, riding on a bike on this road is an experience one should not miss. Sitting inside a closed vehicle and driving down the road cannot be compared to being in direct contact with the atmosphere with the pure mountain air brushing against the biker’s faces. Seeing the bikers stopping at their will to rest or to spend some time just gazing at the rugged mountains and staring up at the wide sky made me envious of them. ‘I have to defer this dream till another time’, I thought.

Gata Loops

Morey Planes

Vire from Taglang La

Taglang La

The driver got the punctured tire repaired and we set off further. After Pang, the stretch of road becomes almost flat as it traverses the Morey plateau. In the summer time, these planes were covered with lush green grass framed by enormous mountains on the sides. I found this stretch of the road most stunning in the entire journey. And so the road continued until it started ascending again. This time the ascent brought us to Taglang La, the world’s second highest pass at 5238 meters. The deep brown mountains contrasted against the blue sky lent a nice backdrop to the colorful Buddhist prayer flags fluttering in the wind.

Descending from Taglang La, we drove alongside the Indus till the check point at Upshi. As we got closer to Leh, we got our first glimpse of the Stok Kangri, the mountain, to climb which, we had travelled so far and so long. The journey to Leh had been beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable, but equally tiring. When we reached Leh, I was thankful to set feet on the ground again. 

Leh

Stok Kangri - So Near Yet So Far!

Prologue

I am sitting poised at the top of the slope of the ridge, ready to push off. On my left, I see the peak of Stok, raising a couple of hundred meters above me. I see little dots of people on the summit moving around, and I can almost feel their elation at reaching the top. A little way down the slope, I see Mubarak sitting on the snow hugging a rock. He has not moved since a long time. I am not sure if he is tired or hurt or both.

Shimoj, at the ridge

It is 7:30 in the morning, there is still one hour to go before the officially announced turnaround time. But my mind tells me that there is no point in waiting around anymore. I have been sitting here for a hour and a half. The snow which was so hard and rock-solid two hours back that we had a tough time cutting steps in it, has become mushy and crumbly now, and will only become more and more difficult to navigate as the sun climbs higher in the sky. There is not enough time for Sandeep, the trek leader, to bring the first summiters back to the ridge and take the rest of us for another shot at the summit. I see Prakash, the other trek guide, a long way down, moving around in random patterns. I try to shout out to him, but am not able to hear the reply properly. The possibility of Prakash reaching the ridge and guiding me to the summit also looks slim. I am not sure what's going on down there with the rest of my team either. Dr. Raja and Shimoj, who were there at the ridge with me a few moments ago, have already slid down the slope of the ridge in the most dangerous manner. The slide is not easy - Shimoj tumbling head over heels at one point, Dr. Raja’s leg getting buried thigh-deep in the snow at other.

Finally, as I accept the inevitable, as my heart accepts what my mind has been telling me for a long time, my eyes well up. I think of all the elaborate planning and preparation that I had put in before attempting Stok Kangri and my heart sinks into my stomach. ‘You are at 5900 meters above sea level,’ I tell myself dejectedly, ‘and you are not going any higher today.’ At long last, I turn my back at Stok Kangri and I start sliding down the 60 degree incline of the snowy slope. The miles long return journey has begun.

Stok Kangri - As seen from the ridge

The Preparation – Physical Conditioning

I am not a naturally fit person. And the fact that my day job requires me to remain parked in one place for the better part of the day only makes it worse. So a couple of months before the Stok Kangri trek, I started to sweat it out in the gym in a most un-lady-like manner. I started running 5 km on the treadmill every alternate day, which was exhausting initially, but eventually I managed that without ending up dead on my feet at the end of the run. The gym-trainer had no clue why I was running like a maniac each day.

I read up as much as I could on high-altitude trekking on the internet, and found that it was essential to have good haemoglobin content in the blood to sustain high level cardio activity in the oxygen starved air of the higher mountains. So each morning I gulped down a shot of wheat-grass juice (which, by the by, tastes revolting), which is supposed to improve blood-quality tremendously. I ate everything which I suspected was healthy, ditched everything that wasn’t, and climbed every flight of steps that I came across. The last thing I wanted to happen was my body and my stamina letting me down on the mountains. 

(to be continued.... )