A night on the rocks

The lights of the town below were lit up like a giant UFO.We stood resting against one of the rocks. The climb was steep and the maze of shrubs and the boulder like walls were intriguing in the flickering light of our torches. The trek started in the night much later than anticipated, thanks to the cops who refused to let us proceed to Papagni Mutt (the trekking base) despite much haggling. My attempts to find an alternative route on google only revealed that post 12 is a bad time to proceed to the base because of the patrolling cops, inviting groans of disappointment from my team.We had reluctantly turned around but bumped into a guide who agreed to take us via an alternative route. We left our bus asking the driver to pick us up in the morning from the base and left off silently with the guide through the fields.

Skandagiri, also known as Kalavar Betta is an ancient mountain fortress located near Bangalore at an altitude of 1350m. Dilapidated remains of Tipu's fort can be found on the top. History says this was a small but strong hill fort. It surrendered to British troops in 1791 and remained in British hands until the peace treaty of 1792, which ended the third Anglo-Mysore war.

The trek is a literal teaser. Just when you think you have reached the top, there is another stone wall towering just beyond. Short but exciting,we had to stop occassionally against the rock ledges (not to mention my shameless dumping over the tripod to Karteek and the undesirable effects of mixing drinks on our young intern).

We reached the summit at around 4 a.m,two hours after we started the trek. The wind was blowing relentlessly and the bone chilling cold left us shivering for cover.Luckily for the trekkers, there is a small shop which sells hot chai and maggi and arranges for a bonfire as well, predictably doing brisk business.We gathered around the bonfire to beat the cold, waiting for the sunrise. Around dawn, a few mist covered peaks in the distance come into view. Like piles of cotton candy the clouds play with the wind, finally giving way to the small orange ball in the horizon. The magical view lasts for sometime before the fog clears up for a bright day.We descended soon after and left back for Bangalore. My first trek of the year was over,hoping to catch up with some more before it ends!

The Himalayan Sojourn,after the Epilogue: High on the Khardung La

The world outside was a perfect monochrome – black and white. Inside the maxi cab , I sat beside the window pane drawing circles on the accumulating mist. The snow outside was getting thicker – inch by inch. The blizzard was getting dangerously stronger and showed no signs of receeding. The cigarette butt that one of the guys had thrown outside just minutes ago was invisible now , buried under a thick layer of snow. “A precursor of things to come?” - I thought to myself. The serpentine queue of vehicles, lined along the Khardung La stood immobile. The Innova standing right infront of us, started the ignition and in an attempt to move ahead, skid dangerously on the snow. We were stranded , on arguably the highest motorable pass of the world.

Our super adventurous trek during the first half of the Ladakh journey had an undesirable post effect- the road trip and mobile camping for the second half of the journey felt like a school picnic in comparison – notwithstanding the lovely landscapes we came across on the way to Pangong,Chumathang and Tso Moriri. Our final roadtrip destination was the Nubra valley. Lying between the Ladakh and the Karakoram ranges , Nubra is a cold desert and is also known as the gateway to the Siachen which lies to it's north. The only way to access Nubra from Leh is through the Khardung La. The road over the Khardung La is two lanes , no guardrails , a vertical precipice of snow below and interspersed with huge military convoys – quite unsurprising given the proximity to Siachen.

The journey from Leh to Nubra through the Khardung La was quite uneventful. Our initial plans to camp in the Nubra desert had to be ditched thanks to a sandstorm right after we arrived ( which I admit gave us cheap thrills , after the picnicky mobile camping days). We camped for the night in a village nearby , and left in the morning for Leh after stopping at the Diskit monastery on the way.As we passed through the military post at around 11 a.m just before Khardung La, the army hurried us across -“ It's snowing and we won't be letting any heavy vehicles across”. A couple of minutes of drive later , we stopped. The snow had blocked the way and all we could see was an unending queue of vehicles along the long and narrow winding road. To make matters worse , the blizzard continued unabated reducing visibility and making the road highly prone to skidding. We hoped the logjam would clear in sometime .What we didn't anticipate was an 11 hour stalemate in the snow blizzard , at 18380 feet .

By evening , we had inched around a kilometre ahead. The effects of high altitude were gradually showing up - staggering breath and headaches. Conversations had died down and everyone was back to the dead stupid game of Uno* .We were out of both water and food , something we hadn't stocked up on our way back since we were heading straight back to Leh. “ Let me make some tea ” - our driver Angchuk enthusiastically suggested. The porters jumped out , broke icicles hanging outside on the walls of snow , and dismantled the stove from the camping equipment stocked above. The driver's cabin miraculously turned into a kitchenette as he opened the seat compartment on the side to reveal well stocked up kitchenware and condiments. The hot tea was a miraculuous relief, albeit only for sometime.

As darkness fell , visibility levels were down to zero. Temperatures outside had dipped to sub zero and we could feel the biting cold make our toes numb.Govil suggested rubbing the toes constantly with our hands in order to keep them warm and avoid frostbite.An army truck distributing maggi and biscuits on the way stood like a messiah. We managed to get a little more than our rationed share thanks to a colonel from the Siachen regiment whom Avisek had befriended on the way. Angchuk steered the cab slowly through the blinding flakes of snow,carefully keeping distance from the vehicle right infront. We could see a car standing precariously on the edge of the road on the left .The driver had tried to speed ahead and had lost complete control. Angchuk and the other drivers got down , to try and push the car back on the road ( a ritual that all the drivers in this terrain abide by - to always stop by and help a stranded vehicle on the way , irrespective of the prevailing conditions).

The road ahead was now a complete blur. We could see the armymen on the road , walking through the blizzard trying to clear the snow. Inside Govil was making dinner for us - maggi atop the Khardung La. A young girl suffering from respiratory problems in one of the vehicles behind us was brought down by Angchuk, since ours was one of the very few vehicles that night with an oxygen cylinder inside. An army doctor was doing the rounds checking up on passengers inside .The prolonged stay at such high altitude was already taking it's toll on the stranded travellers .

At around 10 p.m , we could see a strong flashlight and the way clearing up infront. Angchuk started the ignition and drove forward. We cheered the armymen who gestured us to move ahead faster. Once we had descended , we dropped the young girl and her father who stayed back at an army post for their family in another vehicle behind to catch up. The pass had finally cleared up and the ordeal at the Khardung La was over. Ladakh had left it's final imprint on our memories for a lifetime.

*the only game the non functional human brain can fathom under the effects of high altitude.

Kudos to the Indian Army who got down to clear up the Khardung La ,and without whom it would have been impossible to get through the pass that night.


Photo credits to Abhinav

The Himalayan Sojourn,Chapter 4: The Last lap

"As far as I'm concerned, if someone eliminates the mental part of climbing, then we might as well all go play miniature golf." -  Greg Opland

The gravel was slipping beneath my foot , I scrambled on all fours to find a ledge against a rock. The steep ascent along the side of the mountain pass was loose gravel and rocks and finding a foothold was next to impossible. The only way was to climb rapidly over gravel and rest over the ledges of rocks. Two of the trekkers had taken to the sheet of snow which lay like a carpet through the mid of the ascent. I took a detour and tried the route – my foot immediately sank inside the deep layer of snow. I stood for a minute trying to choose between gravel and snow. “Just keep climbing this way”, Neeraj pointed at the others who were climbing through a trail on the gravel. “Okay! so gravel”, I decided and turned back to follow suit. Gravity was a killing drag. As we inched higher , the thinning air left us panting for breath with every other step.

A couple of hours later,all of us had arrived on the summit – 5200 m above sea level. All around were the snow clad peaks of the Zanskar and the Karakoram range. The wind was a violent roar and it had started snowing. “Don't wait here , we need to start the descent as soon as possible. The mules will not go any forward. Pick up your essentials from the backpacks and one sleeping bag each”. The horseman was retracing with all the camping equipment and two of the porters would also go back with him. The rest of us, with our guide Govil and cook Gombo, would move ahead till Shang Sumdo.

“Walk on your ankles, not your toe”-Govil instructed. The other side of the mountain pass was a thick sheet of snow descending rapidly. We tried to walk fast, digging our ankles, but kept sinking in the snow.The descending carpet of snow gave way to a narrow stream lined with boulders and rocks. “Keep walking fast!” chided Govil ,  “we have no way of getting through if it starts snowing heavily”. It was snowing lightly every now and then, and the wind sent a shiver down to the bones everytime I stopped.We split into groups of two - seven of us led by Gombo ,which quickly moved ahead. In case we did not make it to Shang Sumdo, we would still need to get to the nearest village before nightfall. The remaining five led by Govil decided to stay back for the others to catch up and then move.

What lay ahead was a long journey none of us had ever dreamt of.The mountains threw up a new terrain everytime - boulders interspersed with last remains of glacial ice , steep cliffs of gravel and narrow trails over gorges with the river flowing beneath , gradually draining the last bits of physical energy.

Darkness was setting in. We were walking along a narrow gorge which gradually descended into a trail.We could spot the meadows and the closest village – Chogdo.  Gombo and Deepak moved ahead - “we will try and get some hot maggi and water in the village , you guys can rest for sometime and follow us” .The five of us sat along the gorge resting for sometime. I swallowed flakes of snow in the air as I gasped for breath. “ Let's go , we cannot rest anymore, it has started snowing again” - we got up again and started the descent along the trail. We reached Chogdo, but Deepak and Gombo were nowhere to be seen. Neither was our second group of trekkers .We could only hope they would catch up , it was impossible to cross the terrain we had left behind in the dark.

 We walked up to a lone house located on a small hillock in search of the two , but they had not come there. I suddenly heard Govil's voice and turned around – the second group had arrived -“ Bring out your torches , we will continue till Shang Sumdo. Deepak and Gombo will be somewhere on the way”. The final lap to Shang Sumdo started - in the flickering light of our torches , the 10 of us queued up and trudged ahead along the gorge. We met the other two on the way ( Gombo was resting a little ahead , and Deepak had carried along. When we finally caught up with him , he was standing still in the pitch dark ,lighting a cigarette. As he told us later , every sound in the dark would remind him of all the snow leopard stories we had heard earlier during the trek:)).

The last trek to Shang Sumdo was a 2 hour journey , and by the time we reached the village , our bodies were numb from cold , hunger , thirst and pain. The entire trek was close to 36 km . Unfortunately the maxi cab which had come to pick us up had waited till evening and gone back to Leh , assuming we had retraced our way back to Chilling since all the other trekkers had done so. We dragged ourselves to the doors of a small monastery where the kind lama lent us a room to rest for the night. As we slipped into our sleeping bags ,I slumbered into my most peaceful night ever - the end of a Himalayan adventure in God's own abode.

Epilogue:

A word of gratitude as a small token of thanks for Govil and Gombo ,who tirelessly guided us , at times carrying all our sleeping bags to ensure we were not bogged down by weight. To me personally , they will always remain role models in courage , persevarance and patience.

Also a word of thanks for our porters whose astounding physical ability amazed me. They would start the trek after us , reach the campsite way before we did , work tirelessly to set up the camp , cook dinner and have tea ready for all of us by the time we reached.

On Himalayan trekking -

To be honest , the mountains beat you up black and blue:). Everytime you cross a terrain , there will be an entirely new one waiting to challenge you. But once you learn to push the limits , you will be amazed at the amount of pain the human body can endure.

Always respect the mountains , there is something so eternal and timeless about them that everything else seems insignificant.

Trek responsibly , please do not litter. It's disgusting to find plastic, bottles,wrappers etc lying around at campsites or on the way .It just takes a moment to collect the garbage and burn it away.

The Himalayan Sojourn,Chapter 3: The Journey

The Zanskar was raging below in full force,we stood on the cliff looking down. How on earth were we supposed to cross this? One of the porters quickly ran ahead, hauled himself in what looked like a rickety version of a cable car (a metal cart with a wooden sitting board ,suspended over a rope which connected the two banks), and slid ahead in full force.We gaped as he reached the other end and pushed the cart back.The other porter followed suit. "Get in groups of two with your daypacks. We will move all the backpacks once all of you are on the other end"- our guide Govil instructed. A moment of contemplation, a last look at the bellowing Zanskar and the 10 of us exchanged glances - let the adventure begin! We quickly got into groups of two, sat crouched facing each other and crossed over to the other side. Except for a broken wooden plank on the sitting board below and a momentary suspension over the Zanskar mid way (not too pleasant a moment I can say), the ride was smooth enough. In an hour's time, all of us had crossed over.

Once the horseman had arrived with the mules,the backpacks and camping equipment were loaded.The first day trek was a 5 km hike from Chilling to Skyu , a virtual stroll compared to what was in store for us in the days ahead. But even a slight ascent would leave me exhausted and completely out of breath.I was realising the demands of high altitude trekking and hoped the body would adapt , which it quickly did over the course of the trek. The short trek got over by late afternoon when we reached our camping site at Skyu (3300m).

Our second day was a 20 km trek from Skyu to Markha at 3780m.We followed the meandering Markha River through groves of apricot, willow and poplar,looking out for grazing blue sheep (blue sheep is a misnomer,this variety of sheep found in the Ladakh region actually has a brownish-gray coloring providing them with protective camouflage.They often stand motionless,can be extremely difficult to spot and , when alarmed will swiftly bolt to safety). We spotted herds of blue sheep twice on the way,grazing high on the mountain tops,met nomadic horsemen and passed through remote villages and ancient gompas. On the hilltops around us were remains of ancient forts and fluttering prayer flags. The sun started beating down harshly as the day progressed. It almost felt like walking through a wild west movie with the ochre coloured cliffs and high folded mountains towering high across us all around.Water was running out fast and some guzzled from the glacial streams on the way. In the days to come, the sedimented water in a variety of colours from the glacial streams became our only source of drinking water, a fact we learnt to ignore, and thankfully our body immunity systems caught up.The campsite was near the Markha village where the last satellite phone would be available for the rest of the journey.We gathered exhausted ,sipping cups of hot tea and learnt from Govil that all the trekkers had retraced their way back from the Nimaling base camp. The Kongmaru La pass (5200m) was still closed , and no one had crossed over. We decided to figure out the final course of action once we reached the Nimaling base camp.

Markha to Hankar (4000m) is a 12 km trek to the highest village in the Markha Valley and the last before the Nimaling plateau.The path runs through frozen river beds , and we often had to cross streams with freezing water barefoot. The relatively heavy wooded sections of the Markha valley are left behind and the path runs through grassy ridges , with steep ascents at times.The weather was playing spoilsport and we could see snowfall in the distance." The horseman might refuse to proceed with the mules if it snows heavily at Nimaling.Carrying all the backpacks can be a huge burden", said Govil. In the event of crossing the pass without the mules around, we decided to let the horseman retrace with our luggage and camping equipment.

Hankar to Nimaling basecamp (4700m) is another high point of the trek. The trek from Hankar simply goes up,up and up! As we ascended, the Kang Yatse (6400m) comes into view. The Nimaling plain is a broad undulating meadow which slopes upwards to the base of the ice-clad Kang Yatze .It offers some of the most stunning views, and enroute is a lake with a shimmering reflection of the Kang Yatze.The tiny rivulets flowing all over its meadows provide pasturage in the summer.The camping site was on the other end of a frozen river.

The overcast clouds had disappeared , "there is an alternative pass which is used during winter that we can cross" - Govil said."You would need to climb the same height, but we don't know what the way ahead after you cross the pass looks like". We would need to descend to Shang Sumdo by evening where our maxi cab would be waiting to pick us up to Leh.Retracing back from Nimaling base camp didn't seem like a good idea.Once we climb the pass and reach the summit, the descent ahead should not be a problem , we asssumed.

As it turned out later , the summit was less than a halfway point, and assumptions in Himalayan trekking don't work.

The Himalayan Sojourn,Chapter 2: An acquaintance with Leh

Our first two days were spent acclimatising in Leh. Initial acclimatisation* is critical before moving on to higher altitudes and normally takes 1-2 days. Drinking plenty of water helps, I religiously drank 4 litres of water (my highest ever average daily consumption) and earned the title of the "water lady" , much to the amusement of my fellow trekkers. The Leh itinerary was normal touristy stuff - Thiksey Monastery,the Shey Palace, the Sindhu Ghat on the banks of the Indus and a stroll in the Leh Market to pick up woolens or other essential trekking equipment.

There is something very mysterious and blissful that fills the confines of the monasteries of Ladakh. There is darkness, yet a lot of colour , faded frescoes and beautiful buddhas but also a bewildering variety of images. In front of the altar, there are butter lit lamps and usually small bowls containing water.Scrolls of silk hang from the roof. Long woodblock printed , loose leafed books with wooden covers are kept near the altar. Buddhist monks in their red robes silently walk by. A world almost untouched and eerie lies behind the walls.

The Leh Market is small but littered with shops which sell almost everything ( my fears of not being able to find batteries were pretty much unfounded). In case you need to stock up on essential items for the trek , you will be able to find everything - backpacks, downjackets,batteries, trekking shoes,medicines , trekking guides - albeit at a hefty price.The market is also a good hunting ground for street food - hot kebabs on skewers and a mouth watering variety of street snacks. A visit to the Amdo cafe is a must , a well known eatery serving Tibetan food. Amdo cafe turned out to be one of our favourite haunts for Tibetan food and the 10 of us would just land up there with a marathon of orders whenever we dropped by at Leh.

On the third day, we packed up our backpacks and headed out of Leh with our guide and porters. The plan was to visit Lamayuru monastery situated on the Srinagar-Kargil -Leh road during the day. Lamayuru is one of the oldest monasteries in Ladakh and the long winding road also passes through the confluence of the Indus and the Zanskar. We would head off to Chilling in the evening where we would camp for the night on the banks of the Zanskar. Next morning , our horseman with the mules would meet us on the other side of the river from where the trek would begin.

A punctured tyre just a few kilometers away from Chilling in the evening forced us to set camp at a hamlet nearby instead of the original camping site . As the sun set and the icy winds grew stronger, all of us gathered in our dining tent for our first camping dinner. During the entire course of the trek,an inadvertent pre and post trekking regime automatically fell into place- a wake up call at 6a.m in the morning before which most of us would be out of our sleeping bags (some even had unique warmup exercises to fight the biting cold), retiring after the trek to discussions over cups of hot tea and kawa ,details of which I have promised not to reveal ( what was said in Ladakh, stays in Ladakh;)) and continous games of Uno (the charm of which I absolutely failed to understand) , sometimes continuing well after dinner.

After dinner we strolled around for a while , trying to figure out constellations , but retired to our tents soon as the winds grew stronger. Our trek would finally begin the next day - five days of experiencing Ladakh , raw and unplugged.

Conversational footnotes:

Heard at a liquor shop in Leh where a couple of us stood shivering asking for some brandy:
"Brandy ka season to khatam ho gaya,woh to winter mein milta hai" (clearly someone has not heard about benchmarking)

From the neighbouring tent on the first day of camping:
"Can I turn inside my sleeping bag on the side?" ( No Mevil, I wont write about your more intriguing questions in order to protect my blog's sanity).

*Diamox is a very useful drug which helps in acclimatisation by making the blood thinner. Test for sulphur allergy before diamox intake. Also, the drug is only a preventive medicine , it cannot ensure altitude sickness will not hit.

The Himalayan Sojourn, Chapter 1: The Arrival

" Not more than 6 alkaline batteries in your handbag" - the lady at the security check at Bangalore Airport was adamant.She took out my batteries and threw them aside. I stared at her in disbelief -" But these are for my camera, I HAVE to carry all of them", I paused. "Can I put these in my co passengers' handbags?"-I pleaded. All the other guys were already through the security check and I could see them loitering around the restaurant. Her ice cold gaze didn't change for a minute.I might as well be speaking to a stonewall. She slid across a cancelled boarding pass - " Get a fresh one, check with your airlines if they can put the batteries in your check in luggage". I pocketed the boarding pass and walked  to the check in counter with a terrible scowl on my face. " But your luggage has been checked in till Leh, we can issue you a fresh boarding pass though". I walked back to the security check with the boarding pass, slid my six batteries aside and walked away. I was in a terribly bad mood which meant I shouldn't speak much.

" They took away all my freaking batteries. What if I don't get any in Leh now?". I grumbled away as I ate my dinner with my fellow trekkers. The Jet Airways flight to Delhi was already late by more than 3 hours , the flight was to tentatively depart at 1:00 a.m now. What a start to the Ladakh trip! " Relax, we will try and get your batteries back. We have enough time on our hands", Avisek said. We walked back to the security check after dinner. " Madam , we are all going to Ladakh and I asked her to carry my batteries as well. Could you please return them?. It may be difficult to get any in Ladakh , you see" , Avisek was at his gentlemanly best. I stood beside trying not to open my mouth at all. " Show me your handbags, do you all have cameras?" , she peered into three of the handbags to find a camera in each. "Okay" , she muttered nonchalantly and slid across my precious batteries. I burst into a gleaming smile as we walked away , I could have almost done a somersault!
We loitered around for the rest of the night till a boarding announcement was made for the Bangalore Delhi flight. My hopes of catching up with sleep aboard the flight were pretty much dashed. Once in Delhi , we caught up with the two others in our group who had already arrived in earlier flights. Luckily, the Delhi - Leh flight was on time.I sat bleary eyed aboard the early morning flight staring through the window below.An hour into the flight , the clouds disappeared to give way to a carpet of snowcapped ice peaks below.

Ladakh lies beyond the Greater Himalayan Range and the enchanting mesh of the Himalayan peaks and clouds continues uninterrupted for the entire last 30 minutes of the flight till Leh. The spell is only broken by the flight landing announcement. I quickly fastened my seat belts and put my camera inside ( for the best views, always ask for the left side window seat on the flight from Delhi to Leh , I unfortunately got a right sided one over the aircraft wing!). As we headed out of the aircraft to collect our baggage , I could feel the chill in the air and a slight but throbbing headache. "Altitude, let's hope this gets better fast"- I thought to myself. Two jeeps from the Ladakh Sarai had come to pick us up , the luggage was hauled and the jeeps raced ahead cutting through a landscape none of us had ever seen before. All around were the lofty peaks of the Himalayas,and a frontier of purple haze mountains of the trans Himalayan Ladakh and Zanskar Range,gradually descending into barren , arid land. As we stared around in disbelief , the realisation finally hit us - our journey into the Himalayan kingdom had begun. Juley!

The new year camping adventure

The sun was setting behind the western Ghats.The four of us watched in silence, perched on the edge of the valley.As the saffron hues of the sky unfolded,our conversations slowly died down. Beneath way below, we could see the flickering lights of the town.The whispering wind grew stronger by every passing minute and the silence was getting eerie. The other groups of trekkers had left long back and we were the only group of four camping in the valley beneath the peak.

Earlier during the day when we had reached the valley just below the peak , we were still unsure of our camping plans. The only source of water in the valley was a small,stagnant waterhole with floating mosquito larvae, quite contrary to the "drinkable water' that we had heard earlier. A guide with another group of trekkers we met had also informed us that the valley was the transit route for elephants and that the wind gets very strong at night.Camping for the night already had some cons - there was too little water for the four of us and the not-so-interesting-idea of an inquisitive elephant toying with the tent in the night. Add to the fact that none of us had ever pitched a tent before. So we decided,well,almost decided to trek back instead of camping. But the futility of carrying camping equipment to 1600m was difficult to ignore. Someone suggested a dry run. So there we were,trying to figure out how to erect a tent for the first time ever!(with ideas as diverse as climbing to the top of the peak to see if we can get GPRS to watch a you tube video on how to pitch a tent:)). Finally , the tent was erected ..or atleast it looked like one:). But the decision was still not to camp. So we packed up , left our backpacks and camping gear in the valley and climbed the 100 odd metres up to the final peak. By the time we came back to the valley , it was already 4. The harsh daylight was fading away slowly and we realised it would get dark very soon.

“Guys,we can just camp , we will go back tomorrow” , like a bolt from the blue Soumyajit suggested as he plopped himself down on the grass.
“Yea,I am cool”- Varun was thrilled (he probably wanted to do a somersault but restrained with great effort)
“Okay didnt we decide just now not to camp? And it's getting late , so camp or no camp we need to decide fast ” - I looked at the three of them.
“Shireen is getting pissed , let's decide” (how I love pressure tactics!) and all eyes turned towards Ayan who had no clue why he was chosen to decide. “Umm..okay..let's camp” , said Ayan. And so , in exactly the way all truly momentous decisions are made,we decided to camp the night in the valley.

We had pitched the tent a little distance away from the waterhole , near a concrete hut (which probably is a storehouse for a Shiva temple also located on the valley) , to get some protection from the wind. There was some firewood we had managed to collect just before it got dark. The plantation owner we had met on our way when we started the trek had given us some kerosene. But the wood was wet , and the wind was now a ferocious roar.The fire flickered for a while and went off. Darkness had fallen and the night sky was bombarded with a million stars,the sky so clear we could even see the milky way.

As it got colder, we decided to move inside the tent and slipped into our sleeping bags. The night went by uneventfully,except for Varun waking up in the middle of the night to declare that our tent has “moved”!!?? I slept like a log (much to the surprise of my fellow trekkers) only to wake up intermittently to the sound of the wind raging throughout the night. Our tent miraculously survived the night despite a missing peg which we discovered in the morning the next day:)

Travel trivia: The trek was to Kotebetta  (literally meaning the fort mountain as it looks like a fort in distance), the third highest mountain in Coorg at 1620 m.Trekking distance is 10 kms each way.

How to get there: Take a bus from Bangalore to Madikeri and from there onwards to Hattihole.The trekking trail starts through plantations and is quite broad throughout except for a rocky ascent for the last part of the trek.

Camping facts: The camping site lies on the way to the waterhole in the valley.Do not camp very close to either the temple or the waterhole.Carry adequate water and make sure you do not leave any trash (plastic bottles,polythenes) after camping. Although we were warned about wild animals (especially because of the waterhole) , we never encountered any , the only signs we came across were elephant footprints in plenty and some pug marks.

Lost in the moonlight

Darkness had fallen all around like a silent blanket. The full moon lent an ethereal beauty to the Kudremukh forest and the air was thick with the sound of the crickets. Vamsi and I were trying hard to walk as fast as we could in the feeble light of the one torch we had. My shoes were wet and my feet felt heavy , slipping at every instance. I followed Vamsi blindly , using my hands to save myself from slipping down as we stepped on the wet stones and boulders . How far were we from Rajappa's house? We could only guess. We had lost the other four in our group a while after we climbed down the second peak into the grasslands. “ I hope they did not take the other way around the stream” - I told Vamsi. The forest was a maze in the dark , like an unmapped territory with a blind turn around every corner. We were crossing one stream after the other , hoping this was the last one. Finally , it was the last one. We stepped into the water to cross it.The leeches were the last thing on my mind. I could not risk falling on a stone again. My cheek was already swollen and bleeding from my last fall. And I knew this stream perfectly well, it was here when I fell the first when we started the trek:).

Outside,a man from Rajappa's house was waiting with a torch . We trudged back to the farmer's house as fast we could.“ You are late!” - Rajappa said disapprovingly. We had already opened our shoes trying to wash away the leeches with salt. Damn these leeches! Vamsi tried calling up one of the others' cell phones - “No use , no network!” he said. We checked with Rajappa if he could send someone for help, and he immediately sent two men to look for the rest of the trekkers.

We had split into three groups on our way back – Varun, Mansi, Neeraj,Soumyajit , Balaji and Santosh (our guide); Avisek,Ambika,Puneet and Rohan – the other four from whom we split unintentionally as we had walked fast ahead and lost them. Mansi had sprained her ankle and we wondered how far the first group had been able to come , but atleast our guide Santosh was with them. “The other four should have reached by now,I hope they have not lost their way”- I said. “ I guess we can only wait “ - said Vamsi as we sat down silently in the moonlight. Out in the forest then, my prophecies were turning out to be true.

“ Aren't we crossing stream after stream?” one of the four asked. It had been two hours since they lost sight of Vamsi and me and they were nowhere near the final stretch to the farmer's house. As they looked around they suddenly saw something familiar – a peak which looked like the one we had climbed during the day. Had they simply encircled the summit and come back to the same place? A sinking feeling began to creep in – they were probably completely lost. They walked ahead , clueless, untill one of them spotted the tree -”Hey,isnt this the tree where Mansi had clicked a photo. Check your cameras!”. Yes, it was - the tree where Mansi had stopped to get a photo clicked when we started the trek. So, they werent close to the peak , they were somewhere near the final destination , but which was the way?? They looked around desperately for help, running around till they saw a hut. But how do they tell them where they wanted to reach? They fished around in their cameras – someone may just have clicked a photo of Rajappa's house. Luckily Ambika had; the photo was shown to one of the boys who quickly identified it and the lost trekkers were finally led through a maze of paddy fields back to the farmer's house.

Mansi was in pain. Her ankle had now twisted and sprained again. How was she to walk back with the rest of the group? They had managed to cover the steep descent from the second peak. The others had been asked to go ahead and not to wait for them. She had been taking small steps helped around with the rest of the guys. But this time around , the sprain was bad. And she could not move an inch. There was still some distance to be covered inside the forest at night. Luckily , help from Rajappa's house was on it's way and they reached just in time. Mansi was carried by one of them for the final stretch through the forest.

The wait finally ended ,and the last group of the disbanded trekkers reached home. We sat around the bonfire, beneath the moonlit sky to share our tales of the night in the forest. As they say,all's well that ends well:)!

Lessons from the trek:

Shoes, shoes and shoes!: Carry the right set of shoes. Even if you have trekked in the north , remember forest treks in south india are a completely different terrain .Your shoes need to have a very good grip on wet land/stones ( Unless you are like our experienced guide who kept hopping around like a rabbit in his pair of chappals). I personally had a very bad experience with Woodland shoes , so did two of my fellow trekkers , and would highly recommend against them.

Leeches: You cannot avoid them. You will inevitably get a couple of leech bites through the trek. In case they like you (or your blood as the case maybe), you will end up with more (10-12 in my case).It helps to walk fast,especially through highly leech infested areas. Sometimes sprinkling tobacco or snuff powder around your shoes may help.Dont stop everywhere trying to remove them, you will end up with more! If you choose a monsoon trek , God bless you;).

Sense of direction: Very difficult to build a sense of direction inside a forest , even if you do , post sunset is a different story all together. A lot of us built a sense of direction in the forest connecting it to events which happened around places. Best tip is to complete the trek in daylight to the extent possible.

Local language: At least learn the basics for survival. You may not have cameras and photos of the right places clicked everytime for pictographic communication.

Super quotes of the trek:

A highly guilty Mansi inside the Kudremukh forest at night :“Guys, I think I am impending your pace. I will stop and camp here,you can pick me up in the morning” (Sure Mansi , you can have a pyjama party too)

Rohan, hallucinating after the four lost their way in the forest :“Dude, I think I just heard a tiger roar” (it was the sound of a plane flying overhead)

Puneet, to the group when they were trying to figure out if they had lost their way:“ I am confident we have lost our way”. (Optimism redefined)

Santosh, to the group while they were inching closer to the first stream :“ Three more and we will reach Shireen's stream "( If you are trekking inside Kudremukh forest, and you want a stream named after you, just make sure you fall down into it.)

*Photo credits to Avisek

[More information on Kudremukh national park : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kudremukh.

I also discovered a photo of a vine snake taken inside the forest , check this out on Kalyan Varma's blog here: http://kalyan.livejournal.com/191352.html]