The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: The Kalka-Shimla Toy Train, Deadly Chicken, Etc (Day #12)

Enroute to Kalka

The famous Kalka-Shimla railway line ran parallel to the road, for an ample duration of our bus journey to Kalka Railway Station.

Toy train journeys have always fascinated me. The Kalka-Shimla narrow gauge railway service has existed since 1903. It was only in 2010 that the 105-year old steam engine was replaced by a diesel locomotive. Having rediscovered the quaint ring of childhood during the scenic and wonderfully slow-paced Matheran Railway trip, I could only imagine the joys of journeying on the Kalka-Shimla-Kalka toy train.

       The Kalka-Shimla Toy Train

Drowsy, Sleepy Afternoon at Kalka

Kalka is a sleepy railway station, just the kind of place to laze away to boredom and an afternoon nap. The train to Delhi was to arrive in another three hours. The luggage was deposited in the waiting room. We refreshed ourselves and some people stayed back to guard the luggage, while the rest proceeded for lunch. 

The Deadly Chicken 

The Kalka railway station canteen was an old-time eatery with bearable, edible food. I broke my "only-veg" vow again to order chicken curry. It was a disastrous decision. The chicken tasted like it had been dug up from its coffin, drowned in brown liquid and served. The canteen manager only looked more bored when I complained. He had the quiet conviction of a man who knew that nothing was going to happen. So I posted a picture of the dish with the Indian Railways "handle" on Twitter, along with a written complaint. Yes, they never responded. 

The steam engine as showcased on the Kalka railway station waiting room wall

One Dull Looking Train 

Post lunch, I strolled down the deserted station, gazing at a passing train or two, just to while the hour away. The Kalka-Shimla toy train was ready to depart from a platform and despite the unattractive color combination and drab look, it was worth a glance. At the time of writing this blog post, there is news of reassigning steam engines to all operational heritage trains across India. Now that would be something. Hopefully, the trains will be tastefully redesigned and repainted in brighter colors.

Homebound 

The Kalka-Delhi train journey was largely uneventful. We arrived at Delhi the same evening and ambled to our hotel room in a single line. Many of the group members would be departing Delhi by flight, a dozen of us would be on the train to Pune the next day.

My first Himalayan trekking expedition was done. It had been one rollercoaster ride in continuous slow motion.That I had walked over the Himalayas and was now returning home, was a growing, pleasant feeling that was finally sinking in. 

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: From Sangla to Shimla (Day #10, Day #11)

Cell phone towers, power grid wires mar the view at Sangla

For sheer exasperation, the latter stages of reaching Sangla was the most testing part of the trek. The initial phase of the trek was magical, with mountain folk passing by, a jungle of pine trees, resplendent greenery, a gentle aromatic breeze floating across and a yak.

Yak of the Groovy Hairstyle 
Did I say yak? Midway through the trek, Rushikesh, the group's mischievous, adventurous spirit, called out in strange loud tones to a baby yak doing its own thing over a hill far above. The next instant we see the yak tumbling its way in a left curve down to us.

This baby yak had thick groovy hair falling over its face like it had been to some cool dude hairdresser. It seemed driven by curiosity and yet held back with an inherent coyness. An absolute cute, tantalizing combination, that. I recall someone trying to feed the animal a green stem. This was the only vivid animal-human encounter that occurred during the trip.

Fragile, Handle With Care
The Rupin Pass trek is in many ways about experiencing the Himalayas in a full circle, to an extent. From snow, grass, desolation, teeming forests, roaring pure water bodies, you also witness the ugly beginnings of urbanization.

The last leg of the trek was mostly a devious mix of mud and rubble. When we finally reached Sangla, walking across the bridge over a roaring river, it was evident how the Himalayas could be ruptured by human habitation, oh so easily. Suddenly the beauty seemed marred, though the mountain air still exuded its effect.

The walk from the outskirts of Sangla to our hotel rooms seemed to exhaust us more than all the hiking we had done over the week. Maybe it was to do with climbing stairs and stepping on tar roads again. After a week in heaven, we were inching once more to the self-destructive hellish gateways of widespread human habitation.

A more comforting view of Shimla from the hotel room window 

Shimla Calling 
Restaurants, hotel rooms, toilets and the prospect of bathing after a week! We collected at a restaurant and gobbled our lunch like lost and found travelers. Evening walks, Dim Sum feasts, hot beverages and sleeping on actual beds followed. The eateries close shop pretty early at Sangla, as is common in villages. It isn't a village unless they retire early.

Sangla is merely a transit point with no distinctive feature or beautiful landmarks. Except for the snow-powdered mountains, looming like generations of ash smoke, as we caught the early morning bus to Shimla. It was late afternoon when we reached our destination.

Sangla at Daybreak

Dark T-Shirt Secrets
The evening was spent at Mall Road. We had dinner together at a restaurant, roamed around aimlessly, checking out eateries and stores.

I bought a dark gray Superman t-shirt because my present stock was best packed in. I am a Batman fan, they just didn't have one of him. A dark t-shirt seemed the right thing to wear for the remaining two days of travel. A dark t-shirt meant you didn't see my sweat patches, for one. Basically, you couldn't pinpoint where that attractive, perfumed musk-like manly body odor was emanating from. Stealth mode activated.

Shimla, At a Glance
Of what I saw of Shimla during that evening and morning after, it still had a charm and a restrained degree of development, not yet overtly dealing with air pollution, plastic waste, and other Indian city evils. At least, that is what it appeared to be, during our brief stay. The next morning we would be on our way to Kalka to catch a train to Delhi.

A roadside view of the Mall Road, Shimla

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: The Fun Descent (Day #9)

As is considered usual and not addictive in any way nowadays, cameras and cell phones reappeared like old habits from our respective pockets and bags as we celebrated our maiden Rupin Pass summit climb. This was the first ever Rupin Pass batch that the organizers and trek leaders had accompanied to the top, it was a proud moment for them as well. For once, too many photographs were justified. It had been an enthralling, tough climb to the summit.

The Rupin Pass Trek has no base camp. So you don't return by the same route. One descends down the other side of the Pass over another two days to the village of Sangla. So the trek was far from over, though the prime challenge was done. There were more new sights, terrain, and experiences awaiting us.

 Play Video to View Snow Slide

Rupin Pass Descent: Lie Down and Slide!
The fun began right at the summit slope. Each one of us had to descend the first 150-200 meters by lying on our back, raising our arms, keeping the legs straight on the snow and just letting go!

I went down as the second or third person sliding, realizing that doing it now would mean less friction, more speed, and undeniable thrill. It proved to be true. The tenth and eleventh person came down the same slope considerably slower. The porters, as we astonished onlookers discovered with much glee, knew a way to tackle this mitigating factor by coming down fast and tumbling, riding single or double over large thick polythene sheets, used to cover their tents.

The sensation of your body flat on the ground, speeding like a comet is one of the greatest pleasures you can have with snow. So off we went down a couple more brief but breathtaking snow slides, tracing our way to Ronti Gad, our next camp at 13000 ft.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: The Summit Climb, Part I (Day #8, Day #9)

Despite the biting cold, it was at the final camp before the Rupin Pass ascent that we really let ourselves go. Snow extended beyond our sight and after a heavy lunch, everybody got to sliding down slopes, making snowballs and having a wild time.

Soon a mega snowball throwing battle ensued and livened up the afternoon, with no two distinct sides. Almost everybody was aiming for everybody else. By early evening, we were icy wet, cold and wrapping ourselves in layers of sweaters and jackets. Extra servings of masala noodles made up for the chilly evening.

The Rupin Pass Summit Climb Begins
The sunlight honeyed over the snow the next morning, it was simply another splendid day for a trek! The organizers provided each one of us with a pair of crampons as an extra grip for our shoes. We began closing in towards Rupin Pass with a collective steadiness. This was the longest stretch of snow we had to tread on so far and it took that additional bit of effort and time.



Overheard: Trek Leader Monologue
Nothing prepared me for the actual summit climb. I didn't know what to expect, despite having checked the Internet (prior to the trek) for detailed images.

Our group awaited our turn to make a beeline for the final climb, while another trekking group went ahead. Before proceeding, the leader of that group was delivering no-nonsense instructions in one loud monologue. "Hold the trekking pole in your right hand.Take one step at a time. If you fall, fall alone, don't hold on to the person beside you, don't fall over the person behind you. OK? Let's go!"

Mountain Wisdom: One Step at Time
Overhearing that conversation gave me the first hints as to what lay between the two vast expanses of jutting snow-smothered rocks. Surely that man was exaggerating. I thought he was basically creating an atmosphere of caution among his group of trekkers. We were soon to find out for ourselves.

I realized then that this epic trek had been so immensely enjoyable because I had not thought about tomorrow or even the next hour for one instant. It had been about taking the next step and nothing else.

I tell you, walking in the mountains for over a week changes you, you will never be the same again. Either you will heed the call to climb the mountains again, or return resigned to your dreary habits and to habitats that we call the cities of India. Among the traffic, chaos, smoke, population crisis, corruption, greed, grime, and carbon soaked air, you will then long for the mountains and suffer.

Suffer then and suffer well. How else will you make it to the mountains again, but with that huge bullet-holed memory in your heart? How will you make it again, but with that desire for deep, eternal calm?   

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Dhanrashi/ Lower Waterfall to Upper Waterfall Camp (Day #8)

Heading past 13000 ft and beyond, a great silence enveloped us like a gentle friend. It was the toughest day of the trek so far and I recall that we didn't speak much that day. Sometimes we urged a lagging person with encouraging words like, "Come on!" And that was that.

Sunlight reflects off snow in a continuous blinding burst at this height, my specially-bought sunglasses really served their purpose over the next two days. Despite the ample food we were eating at the daily stopover camps, many of us were losing their appetite, some were experiencing headaches due to altitude sickness. Nobody fell seriously ill though. The weather continued to be excellent, like a long run of good fortune.

Soon, any sign of vegetation would completely disappear. The geography would be limited to only snow and rocks until the descent.

Lower oxygen levels meant more little breaks. The walking rhythm was a crucial factor now to maintain a certain pace and at the same time for energy retention. Veteran mountain trekkers were more at ease though, with a been there, done that finesse in their movements.

The organizers had decided to set up camp at almost 14000 ft, further away from the Upper Waterfall. We were covering more distance that there was less to cover the next day, the final day of the climb. For we needed all our gathered grit and courage for the upcoming Rupin Pass summit climb. 

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Buras Kandi to Dhanrashi / Lower Waterfall (Day #7)

The experienced Himalayan campaigner, Aditya, guides me before I set foot on my first snow trek.

What was my prior reference point to trekking on snow? Commercial Hindi films. Bollywood movies have made walking on snow feel like dancing on your best friend's wedding. I mean, even way back in Junglee (1961), Shammi Kapoor rolled, crashed and drowned in the snow without any visible injury, while shouting a thunderous, "Yahoo!" to go with it. As for Sridevi swaying in a thin yellow saree in Chandni (1989) to Rishi Kapoor's sweater-draped romp over the definitely chilly Switzerland hills, well they must have paid her damn well for that craziness.

Walking on Snow: Alertness the Key 
Cutting back to reality, believe me, Hindi film fans and my other dear readers, you are on your own here. How hard snow, melting snow or crushed snow responds to your shoe grip can be tricky. The best thing for beginners is to stay alert and ensure a firm grip with every step. I had my faithful companion, a walking stick. It was a stout lengthy dark branch of a tree that a villager at Jakha had cut to the right size, scrubbing it's one end to a rough bluntness. The stick made for great support, especially during the testing snow hikes.

Crampons, to be fixed to the boots for superior grip on prolonged snow walks, were provided on the vital day of the thrilling summit climb, but more on that later.

Himalayan Magic: Melting Snow, Gushing Stream
We arrive at the Lower Waterfall camp after another tough but enjoyable day of trekking. That the air was getting thinner at 12000 ft was evident now. I tread cautiously, catching my breath after a set of dozen steps and then moving ahead.

Many of us were carrying our own backpacks. What we ate, how much we ate, how much energy needed to be conserved, precautions to not fall sick, protective layers of clothing, drinking warm water, were now important factors. Keeping conversation to the minimum while trekking - another good idea for unhindered breath.

The waterfall was gushing as a result of the steadily melting snow. It was no longer in the icy white, frozen form that I had seen on the Internet image searches. In fact, by evening, the stream beside the camp had doubled in volume and width. Jokes on flooding and imminent death followed.

It was unlikely though for the stream to swell through the night and engulf us all. Surely, the weather would grow colder and the melting ice would pause until sunrise to continue its age-old cycle.We were all still alive, dry when morning arrived, to the tinking of the bells around the porters' grazing mules. An icy flood, a timely escape, and an exciting rescue mission ending with steaming hot chocolate cups would have made a great story though, at least on paper.

One, with the Mountains 
To be at par with the adjoining mountains during the acclimatization climb treats us to another great waterfall and a grand view. It is truly as if we were in the age when gigantic beasts ruled the earth and gods at war flung huge weapons of lightning, piercing the earth and creating mountains. Climbing up fast and joyously, it is here that I am finally confident and convinced that nothing will deter me from enjoying every step of the trek to follow, from making the final summit climb.

Another majestic waterfall greets us at the Lower Waterfall camp, falling from a great height, making midgets of mighty rocks.

Our tents seem like a distant, unknown village while gaining height during the acclimatization climb. 

The first sun rays slice the top of the mountain into two shades. It is an epic sight, imagine watching a miniature tilted, revolving earth, lighting up from within. That's what it felt like.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Introductions, First Steps (Day #3, Day #4)

An evening of introductions commenced and a clear, astounding picture emerged of my fellow trekkers. I was among Limca and Guinness Book Record holders, individuals delving in their passion for photography, cycling, yoga, boxing, marathons, teaching and other pursuits. This was one varied group, many among us fiercely independent and self-sufficient.

We had a cozy home stay here at Dhaula. Post dinner some of us retired early, comfortably cocooned in our sleeping bags. The rest engaged in several enjoyable rounds of card games and conversations, before sleeping in late.

Dhaula to Sewa
Wednesday morning brought apprehensiveness, tea, and rain. Experienced co-trekkers had already mentioned about the utter discomfort of trekking in a Himalayan downpour. The drops feel like needles, they said, and you would rather wish to be somewhere else when that happened.

But wondrously, as the local hosts had prophesied, the skies soon cleared. We began our trek with what was to become a rousing daily practice, hailing out a battle call in praise of Chhatrapati Shivaji, the legendary Maratha king.

Along the Rupin River
A long and leisurely day of trekking followed. There was barely any significant altitude gain, the scenery was breathtaking. Clouds floated by mimicking lazy travelers, a gigantic cloud wedged itself into a valley.

To the omnipresent roar of the Rupin river, we passed cute, curious children calling out, "Hello." Some of the kids hailed us in shrill voices, asking for chocolate. Chocolate distribution, group photo sessions and nibbling on local village store lollipops followed.

By 1 pm, we were at Sewa for another home stay. A long gorgeous afternoon and evening lay before us, as we placed our bags in the wooden-floored rooms, washed and refreshed ourselves. What a lovely beginning and no stinging rain as yet. Hurrah!  

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

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Dehradun to Dhaula (Day #3)

Inches Away From a Free Fall

We were 22 on the bus from Dehradun to Dhaula that morning, apart from the local guides and the driver.

We pass the Indian Military Academy with the cadets in full uniform, the stomp of shoes and dark beige resplendent colors at a grand parade. The remnants of small-town Dehradun is swiftly left behind.

But the journey really began when the road became precarious and we steadily gained height. A river roared way down below us. Trees, always a balm in vision. The mountains appeared, looming, not gigantic, but green, forested and beautiful. Anytime I looked to the left, the tires were inches away from a free fall.

The journey began when the danger and uncertainty became apparent.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Chair Car Blues (Day #2)

The wonders of the English language evident on the bus inscriptions

Pune - Delhi - Dehradun
Sunday: The NINE board the train to Delhi with ONE trek leader. We indulge in idling, small talk, sleep, sweat, rain, cards, guessing games and songs from a Bluetooth speaker (Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo and other hits). Our group includes a champion sleeper and lover of economics, restless boxer and potential writer, 16-year-old veteran Himalayan trekker, rookie trekker, teacher, doctor-to-be. software engineer, beautiful girls, blah, blah, blah.

Monday: Morning rain brings respite during the train journey.The NINE alight at Delhi, a bit late, but on schedule to catch the train to Dehradun. 

Great Expectations 

Barring four people, who are to join us at Dehradun, the rest of us met up at the concerned platform. The organizers have booked a chair car compartment for the 9-hour journey.

The thing about chair car compartments is, suddenly, there is nothing much to do. You may well be in your drawing room. Each to their own. Of course, you can move about the passage to the main entrance. After some time, potato chips and other packed snacks get passed and munched on. Selfies and group photo sessions follow.

Though I have grabbed a coveted window seat again, there is not a single splendid view. I don't know if it happens to other first-time Himalayan trekkers. We expect to see mountains everywhere, anywhere we can set eyes on. It's like your first day jogging. You sweat, you pant, get home and almost involuntarily check in the mirror if your stomach has magically receded into a six-pack.

Dehradun, At Last 
Afternoon turns to evening and evening to dusk. The train finally crawls to Dehradun sometime beyond 10.30 pm.We amble, bags in tow, in a single line, first for a late dinner at a little eatery and then trudge to the reserved hotel.

Rooms are allocated on a sharing basis. It's nice to spread out on the bed after a long day's journey. We are not to sleep in a bed or bath again over the following week. Dehradun is bearably cool, comfortable, quiet and mosquito-free for a good night's rest. There's still a day's travel between us and the first trek camp.

Next Episode: The Bus from Dehradun