"Guys, is that a crocodile?"
"Fark, yes!"
"Out of the water!!"
That'll do enough to sum up the adventure that I was a part of, on a regular Sunday with friends - a week in the past from now, when I sit and tap into memories of it.
The incident conveys much about the day, but neither the slower-paced moments that gave space to mull and ponder, nor the abandon that I enjoyed - to the the extent of finding meself detached from the group for a while.
The team was 6 (humans) - Kap, Av, Kru, M1, M2, me - plus 3 (dogs) - Zeb, Alba, Laika.
We left post-9AM. I started a bit disoriented, citing lack of sleep. The planning was Kap's. He had read about this close getaway, which we readily agreed to.
The dogs were a surprise, since neither of us actually owned them. They were from Kap's office, which itself isn't a typical "office" but a bungalow-turned-into-professional-space in a posh residential area in Kormangala, where the dogs reside with the caretaker. Zeb and Alba are Golden Labs, while Laika seemed a mix (Lab and Spaniel). Zeb was the youngest, at a year and a half; he is a ball of energy, always seen running about, but never an iota tired. Alba was the oldest, at ~7.
In two cars - a Honda Jazz and a Honda Brio - we distributed the humans and the dogs.
Jazz: Kap, Av, Kru, Alba, Laika, moi
Brio: M1, M2, Zeb
Exit from Bangalore was messy. We lost synch a coupla times, and that had us doing some silly driving inside city limits. Av was behind the steering in ours, very diligently managing the horrible and mannerless traffic. It became okay once we exit the city to join the big highway, paying a toll. Thereafter, we were cruising at 100+ amidst the thin traffic and behaved heavy vehicles.
The good part of the ride lasted a mere half hour, until we took an exit - same one as for "The Art of Farting" (helmed by Sri Sri Sri Sri Sri Sri -something). The road lost its dividers and other garnishments. Another half hour, and we took another left - after some hesitation that made us 'those assholes who started the jam' - into a smaller road. This one had negligible traffic, which was an incentive to accelerate, if not for the patchy nature of the road, often surprising Av to make it a coordinated affair between the accelerator and the breaks. Honda Jazz has a low clearance, so Av had to be super careful on the speed breakers, which are in plenty, as if they fell off an overloaded truck.
We were now driving through Bannerghatta N.P., with thick forest on either side. There were boards reminding us of the presence of elephants, deer, and even tigers, in this region. By Kap's guess, we had to take into a kutcha road to our right, but that was found barricaded. We went ahead, and took into the next right. Some original music followed, as the car's dorsal side came in frequent contact with the loose boulders and depressions. We ended up at a village, where the friendly villagers helped us with the directions. "Keri" means a lake, and that was enough to get the right directions. Apparently we had to take the same barricaded road, needing to lift the barrier. That we did, and descended down, making more music, to be finally welcomed by our destination.
The lake was bigger than my expectation. It was empty, too. If not for the monkeys - and later a tempo traveler that had come for a wash - we'd have an eerie silence. The lake had many small arms cutting into the landmass. Out came our picnic basket, cameras, mats, and bags. The dogs were let loose - they relieved themselves, and Zeb crashed straight into the lake and came out cheery and soaked.
Soon thereafter, we were in waters as well, having made a shady Eucalyptus patch to the left as our camping spot. For a rare time, I was in warm waters (the last lake I was in, at 5700m, required me to break through the ice sheet). The nature of such waters is fascinating, especially the dipping temperature gradient, which meant an increasingly cooler sensation with each step towards the depths. The lake bed was a civilized and gradual descent, which was awesome for a nonswimmer like moi. It was also flat and comfortable, unlike the boulder-strewn ones that I've generally been in.
The dogs were a delight. Zeb, the superdog, was going crazy, playing fetch in the waters. Laika was the surprise package - she was cared of the water, but once Kap led her into the lake, like a parent, that fat girl fell in love with the waters. She kept jumping in, paddling the best she could until her lungs blew out, then recover by the lakeside, and repeat. Alba was timidly trying to do a Laika, and enjoying it, despite being the oldest. Dogs are effective at not only adding the fun element, but also at diverting all attention, to come to aid of the reclusives or people who'd prefer to muse in silence.
Then there was the croc incident. While in the waters, Av spotted something strange floating, about 30 feet from me, who made for the left-most boundary of the group. Being closest to the 'thing', I got to take a hard look, and confirm her suspicion. We freaked, and dashed out onto the land. Feeling safe, we scanned the lake, to see another crocodile closing in from the opposite direction! So it goes.
Then we sat down to enjoy bread, biscuits, chips, nutella, and Av's wonderful homemade Hummus. A few curious village boys, there for cricket but drawn in our direction coz of the crocs, started a conversation. Happy and simple bunch this was, compared to the mischeivous and sometimes-malintentioned boys up North, where hostility seems to linger in the air when city dwellers connect with the rural country; feeling like you could be in a Sam Peckinpah movie at any moment. The peskiest of intruders - an old villager - was also pacified with a biscuit. (If that villager finds my missing iPod, I hope he'll be listening to The Conet Project right now).
Sleep wasn't an option, or I'd have dozed off for the rest of the day, in that comfortable shade. So I put my chappals back and stepped out for another recce. This time, I went far, about 10-15 minutes of vigorous walk, till a cluster of dramatic trees right at the edge of the lake. The dogs tailed me, Zeb, of course, being the keenest of the three. For a brief while it felt being in a future I'd always envisioned. I wish some visions would be set permanent in the coming months. Later, Zeb and I raced back to the arms of our respective owners.
Before we left, the last minutes were spent collecting artefacts - in the form of those dried Eucalyptus pods with 4-or-5-pointed-star patterns. There was also this fascinating mushroom species, the village kids demonstrated us a more fun application by smashing it on the ground, to make a greenish-yellow gas cloud, much suited to a magician's arsenal.
I took to the steering on the drive back, and got to sample the roads first-hand. The traffic of Karnataka still fares better than U.P. and Haryana. We got back by 1530, and then went to Thulp's for a big bite.
FIN>
On snow now. The trail was hard to make out, situation further alleviated by a fog. The descent from Shipton La (4230m) was made memorable by this glimpse at 'Thulo Pokhari' (translates to 'Big Lake') through a window in the fog, which tinkled some primal corner.
The trail seemed endless. A long rocky stretch brought out all in me. I had been on the trail for 10 hours now, and yet there was no indication of civilization (after Dobato). There were about 6 waterfall crossings involved.
Tired is what I started with, and grew even more so with the day. The previous day had sucked out all juice from me.
Features abound on this day. I started in a glacially-weathered valley with waterfalls running off hanging glaciers, then to pasture lands, and then to moraine fields which were void of any green. It is easily the most beautiful of the days, benevolent weather gods permitting.
By 1400, I found myself unsure of the way. The riverbed opened up into a playground and there were many directions to head into. I had speculations about the trail, but then snowing ensued, and I found myself in a tight corner. 
As per calculations, Hillary BC (or the lower Makalu BC) should be over that ridge, possibly 2 hours ahead. Beyond that, another 5 hours to MBC. Could I do it?
It was hard to believe that there was any trail, coz there wasn't. It is just the rocky moraine you walk through for hours, keeping a track of the cairns for directions. Even the physical recovery of yesterday only got me through till noon.
Few hours in, and I not only find myself on the wrong right trail - the usual trail first leads to Num and then down, but instead I take to a village track - but also caught in heavy downpour. I enter a quiet little Gurkha village, and ask for directions from a villager, soaking more rain and picking off leeches at the same time. Seeing my condition, he politely invites me into his courtyard. I spend the next hour here.
People are awesome. Not only did the man provide me shelter from rain, and tea, and crispies, but he also volunteered to show me the way down to the river. We make through his beautiful village, Amrang. I'm delegated to a village kid, who leads me out of the village and onto the jungle trail that goes to the river.
The jungle trail, as it turns out, is in disuse. I soon enter denser forest, where the trail is barely a foot wide.
Leeches. Combined with unknown territory, civilizational void, and looming rainfall, it makes for a stressor beyond anyone's imagination, esp when they are found at every step. These almost had me broken by the time I got to a stream. 
Finally crossing the raging Arun Khola on this epic suspension bridge. It was 18:30PM and it was getting dark. Shedua, my destination for the evening, was nowhere to be seen/sensed. 
After a few hours of walk, I made it to Shedua, my destination of yesterday's. I didn't stop there and continued ahead.
I walked fast, and got to Tashigaon around 14:30. Lucky to have bumped into the caring proprietor of Makalu II Hotel, who led me to the end of the village where all stay and camping is.
Soon after leaving a hamlet after a cup of "Cheeya", all hell broke loose. It was pouring down, and I was caught in the middle of it. The trail soon turned into a water stream. This is how flash floods happen. I ran for shelter under a tree, but that only kept the water away till the volume became overwhelming. I could see the water soaking my bags and clothes, but couldn't do a thing.
The bus halts at Tumlingtar for lunch. Tumlingtar is the nearest airfield to start on this trek. This town is situated along the Sabha Khola (Khola ~ River). I love the Thukpa; and keep the enticing fish dish for the return leg.
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