The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Hailstones and Other Stories (Day #9)

I poke my head out of my tent at the Ronti Gad Camp and this is the surreal sight...

As we trekked down to the Ronti Gad camp, the ground was a shiny, blazing green again. The mountains were all around us, submerged in vision. We were all more relaxed and conversational now.

But as we neared the camp, the cheery weather began to change its texture. We placed our backpacks in the tents and began settling in when the clouds gathered above, passing swiftly. The porters began running for cover. Then the hailstones started falling like mini cannon balls. It was quite a sight, catch a glimpse of it in the video below.

An Afternoon of Mountain Gazing 
For my first Himalayan trek, it made some story that the weather finally gave away hours after the summit climb. That this happened after we comfortably made our tents, is another notable occurrence. I couldn't imagine making that final climb with hailstones dropping heavy on us.

A major part of the afternoon was spent in the tents as rain followed. When the weather began to clear again, the great Himalayan summits further away came into view. Sitting there huddled in a group, gazing at a distance, as clouds and mist momentarily revealed majestic mountain tops was a glorious sight.

Dancing and Dreams   
Before dinner was served, the evening was spent dancing in a circle to the latest Hindi film dance songs. Apart from the fun, the dancing also helped generate much-needed warmth. We had descended from 15,250 ft and were camping at 13420 ft. It was chilly after the passing shower and we needed the body heat. Most of the group members and a couple of enthusiastic, cheerful porters joined in. The porters were simple, open-hearted folk, they seemed at home in the mountains.

The night got colder as we retired snug into our sleeping bags. This was our last night outdoors, in such close proximity to the mountains.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Dog Run (Day #3)

Caution: The first paragraph may disgust some readers. Reader discretion advised.

The horror of horrors, three hours into the ride, once the rickety bus started snaking through the high mountain curves, the scenery dimmed in my eyes. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for the journey to end.

Nausea took over and I placed myself strategically by the window for the rest of the bus ride. My lively co-passengers slowly melted away from my notice. It was a kind of a temporary self-quarantine. By the time we reached Dhaula by around 5 pm, I had mastered the art of setting myself up by a bus window for a good vomit trajectory, polished my skill of doing so without causing any widespread disgust. Uh, ah, ow.

First Base 
We alighted at Dhaula and waited for the organizers to arrange for the jeeps to take us to the base camp. A few members petted and pampered the local dogs. The dogs were all flowing hair, bushy-tailed, fearless and robust. The mountain air perked me up, by the time we boarded different jeeps, the towering oaks, pines, a river flowing to the left and a steady drizzle brought me home to the trip again.

Dog Run
Something out of the ordinary occurred on the ride to our first camp. One of the local dogs began chasing our vehicles in one steady, strong run. This was no casual chase. The dog kept up with the vehicle's speed and moved to a sprint, tirelessly. After almost five kilometers did the dog cease at a settlement, more out of instinct and curiosity it seemed, or perhaps in catching a delicious aroma. It was one extraordinary run, a touch of the predatory in it, riveting to the eye.

It was still raining when we reached our first camp, post a 30-minute ride. Rain, not a good sign for the trip, if not ominous. Tea was served from a smoky kettle, hot fried snacks served as we watched the drops mingle with the wild green below.

A cell phone grab of the dog run