Searching the night
In the lonely light
of the moon that
manages through a tear
- here or there -
in the sheet of clouds,
Among a sea
of silhouettes that wrap their arms
around me that
push me to stay
as the mad dancers sway.
It's 16 past 01 [1316PM]... and I've been having a really, really misadventurous time for the past 20 minutes. The skies opened up, and now... I have nowhere to go.
Kongma, is, I guess, another hour ahead, and the last habitation - where I had my tea - is half an hour downhill. But I can't even go downhill for, like, 5 minutes; or I risk getting all of myself wet... which I slowly am getting, since I have no place for shelter.
Right now I'm under the tiny canopy of a rhododendron tree. The water slowly creeps in, onto my jacket, which acts as a sponge, which is now saturated. Now the water is making its way through the jacket, and to my body. I'm wet, and I'm cold. The chill is starting to set in...
My bag is completely wet. All the waterproofing that could save it, would save the middle compartment, at best, but the top compartment and the lower compartment - which had my jeans and my jacket,- is also gone. One jacket - that I'm wearing - is completely drenched. The other one, that was in the lower compartment, should be completely drenched by the end of this rain. I don't know how long it goes, but this is a real stressor for me. When, I get to Kongma today, I don't know what I'll be have to wear for the evening, so forget about tomorrow. The water still creeps in.
I don't know what's gonna happen to the contents of my smaller bag. I hope my electronics don't go kaput. I hope I don't go kaput. This rain could go on for hours. The whole trail is flooded with water, so I had to run my way down [downhill] to the rhododendron thicket, and take shelter here. So my plans of Kalo Pokhari are definitely out. Right now the plan is to reach some shelter, or even some rocky outcrop, to assess the damage done.
Let's see how it goes. Over and out.
I've landed in Uttarkashi. Among the highlights in these first 4 hours - introductions with the team, surveying our organisational setup, the Bun Tikkis in the main market, witnessing an epic drunken walk, chasing fireflies, and agile fly swatting.
It took 7 hours to get here from Rishikesh, in a shared taxi. There was an additional 2 hour wait at Rishikesh for the taxi to reach full occupancy, since this peak season is now an off-season, and a few - if any - taxi guys are risking it to Uttarkashi; there were rumors about dicey situation of roads around Dharasu (26km from Uttarkashi) but we found them restored, at least until the next batch of rain hits. We - Jade, Amber Lamps, and me - lost a good hour shortly after Narendranagar, in a queue of traffic, owing to sections of the road that were washed away not yet fully restored; but there wasn't much difficulty besides. Even buses and trucks are plying on the route now, albeit a fraction compared to the usual.
But beyond Uttarkashi is a different deal. The road goes a mere 5 km further ahead, to as far as Gangori, and thereafter it had been washed away at several places, which makes prayers of any immediate restoration impossible. It is beyond this point that the bugle calls us into action.
The action plan is detailed. By the time of our arrival, a few tonnes of relief material had been bright up, preliminary surveys and data gathering had been carried out, stay had been arranged, and - most importantly - the permission from the newly-appointed DM had been obtained (the earlier DM was replaced on corruption charges, and it was the first day in the office for the new one).
Tomorrow, one batch does a recce to Maneri, and onwards to Bhatwari (this village is the branching point for Dayara Bugyal trek which I did last year). We are, in the first leg, targeting villages around Bhatwari, so making contacts and arranging for stocking space is the immediate aim, so that in the following days we establish an ABC at Bhatwari. Another batch of us - which I'm a part of - would be preparing food packages and seeing to the logistics (ie non mountaineering stuff, but I can wait). I'm in awe of the art and the sincerity of these teammates, who - in short note - are as cool and hardworking as they are experienced.
At dinner, the conversation(s) didn't leave the mountains. Mad people talking about fellow mad people. I can already see the differences...
A lot to see. A lot to do.
Me and bro were madly awake and active in the forests beyond midnight, looking for how life plays out. It is the smaller species that make for the bigger fodder.
The past couple of days I've had this crippling pain in the hip. It, suspectedly, is a collective result of the past 40 days of unrestrained adventure (and subsequent load lifting).
Volini and Voveran have come to my rescue, or so I thought, until I met Hira Didi, the shaman-next-door. I didn't know she was a shaman, until today. Whenever we vacation out here in Gethia, she visits my family as a regular villager, and thrills us with narrations of village oddities and encounters with the wild (living at the periphery of the jungle her animal sightings are frequent, to our envy), as is the conversational fashion.
But the mention of my condition made her investigative. Then she asked for some salt. Then a leaf, which she went out to fetch herself. Then I was called into the picture, and made to stand facing away from her, at the kitchen door. I had assumed she would be making a paste from Indian herbs - some local remedial recipe - that'd be thereafter wrapped in a leaf and applied to my bum as a fomentation.
What I next felt was the brush of her sickle along my back, with some murmur chants. She stood behind me, holding the leaf with a fistful of salt in her left hand, with the sickle - like a magic wand - in her right. "The handle of this Daranti (sickle) is made of Pahiya," she explained. 'Pahiya' is a tree of this region (with a characteristic flaky bark), whose wood is considered an apotropaic i.e. warding off evil spirits. After the chants got over, she left with the leaf (and the salt in it), with instructions that I don't cross the kitchen line for an hour and a half. Only if she had bones and a skull would it have seemed more transcendental. But shamanistic rituals, I like.
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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