A TREK TO THE GREAT LAKES OF KASHMIR

LIVING TO THE HILT

TREK TO THE GREAT LAKES OF KASHMIR

Suman K Sharma

When I decided to go for the Youth Hostels Association India (YHAI)’s trek, ‘Great Lakes of Kashmir’, I was more than aware of the difficulties involved.? We had to touch nearly 14,000 feet at the highest.? Oxygen was rare at that level.? People fell to the High-Altitude Sickness.? The ascents were steep, and more painful were the descents.? Rain could make them dangerously slippery.? To think of rescue in those conditions was asking for the moon.? Last, but not the least, going on 75, I, poor me, was considered well past the age of setting foot on those heights.? But I had this urge of living to the hilt. There was a silver lining too.? My friend, Tek Chand (69), would be my companion there.? By his very name – tek means support in Hindi/Punjabi – he would prove a pillar of strength when required, I was sure.

??????????? Even so, the people at YHAI were not as sure.? They draw a line between the would-be participants - those who are below 65, and those who are older.? Both Tek Chand and I fell in the second category. On their asking, both of us gave undertakings that should any untoward incident (read, a serious accident or death) happen to us during the trek, they would not be held accountable.? We also submitted medical fitness certificates for registration.? YHAI are firm on this:

“1. Participants take note, KGL trek is a high altitude, strenuous, challenging trek that requires moderately high to high degree of mental and physical fitness…” goes their stern online warning.

YHAI is a part of an international movement with the objective “to promote travel, tourism, adventure spirit…”??? It provides simple but nourishing vegetarian food, accommodation which is generally in tents, guides and transportation (from Base Camp to the point from which the trek starts and from the end-point of the trek back to the Base Camp).? Its rules are simple: no to intoxicants and smoking, separate lodging for male and female participants, no wood-burning in camp-fires (participants may light a candle instead, or use battery-torches), no single-use plastics and no littering. I have been a life member of the organisation for some two decades.

??????????? To be doubly sure that each of us was really sound of the body and mind, YHAI demanded – and we complied with - yet another medical fitness certificate, complete with ECG and blood-sugar readings, “not older than 10 days before the beginning of the trek.”

??????????? On a late afternoon of 31 July, when the trees cast long shadows on the road, we entered the Base Camp at Dachigam, adjacent to the national park of that name in Harvan, a Srinagar suburb.? En route, Tek Chand, who was visiting the Valley for the first time, had not been able to take his eyes off the Dal Lake, with the bright sunlight frolicking with the tiny ripples on its surface.? I too was in for a surprise, but of another kind.? The plastic tent which we were asked to occupy was so hot that we could not stay in it for a minute. Was not Kashmir expected to be cooler than Delhi? Relieving ourselves of the rucksacks, we rushed to seek refuge under the marquee erected over the dining area.? A solicitous kitchen staff served us lunch even at that hour.? Sometime later, it was the tea time.? YHAI’s tea is sweety-sweet. The Camp Leader, Mr. Harahal Mukherjee (72) from West Bengal, who joined us presently, instructed the staff to go easy on sugar while serving elderly participants like us.? We discovered that he was a keen mountaineer who in his time had climbed peaks as high as 26,000 feet.? He was volunteering at the camp.

??????????? As the day dragged on, we began to worry whether the trek would be organised for just the two of us.? It brought us relief to hear at the dinner that more participants would be joining the following day.? At night, another volunteer, Mr. Nandan Jayaswal, briefed us about the routine we were to follow at the camp: tea at five in the morning, breakfast half an hour later and then an acclimatisation-cum-training walk.? Boosted with a hot drink of Bournvita, we went to sleep in our tent.?

??????????? A sweet chatter of birds woke us up.? Morning routine over, we waited for the arrival of our would-be companions.? Someone from the staff said they were held up because of the traffic restrictions to make way for the Amarnath yatra.? They arrived eventually.? Ajay Patil (in his forties), accompanied by his daughter – Saee (23), her friend Ashwitha (22) and Ameya Parab, a young man roughly of the same age.? Three more participants followed them: Dnaneshwar Patil, his brother-in-law Nitin Patil and Vijay Lakde, all in their thirties.? We were now nine, a good number, but still a small group considering that the strength of a YHAI trekking expedition goes up to 25-30 members.?

??????????? Our fresh-faced companions came from Maharashtra.? They were from different fields.? Saee, Ashwitha and Ameya had studied Bio-informatics at the prestigious Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC). Ajay Patil worked for an MNC. ?Dnaneshwar had been a medical representative and now runs his own franchise.? On the creative side, he does child portraits.? Nitin, his brother-in-law, is a Branch Manager with SBI.? He is an accomplished illustrator too. Vijay Lakde has made a niche for himself as a professional cinematographer.? Tek Chand and I were in the Ministry of Defence during what now seems as another life.

??????????? Pleasantries and breakfast over, we set out for the day.? Gulzar, a tall and handsome local, was our guide.? Wending his way through lanes and by-lanes, he took us to a hilltop from where we had a panoramic view of Srinagar and the Harvan Water Works.? Tek Chand, ever a stickler to precision, said we had climbed 282 cemented steps to reach the top.? Here, on a plateau of sorts, Gulzar showed us a circular hole some five deep.? Lined with stone, it was wide enough to seat at least a hundred persons.? At Gulzar’s behest, Mr. Mukherjee, Tek Chand and I descended into it and intoned “Om” as loud as we could manage.? I did not hear any echo as Gulzar said we would, yet there was a distinct sensation of being on a sacred ground.? The construction is a relic from the Buddhist times.? Returning to the camp through another route, our ‘acclimatisation walk’ was over. We had the rest of the day to ourselves.?

??????????? After lunch, Tek Chand and I decided to explore the Dachigam National Park, which was close by.? We could sight a leopard, though the shy beast tried to hide behind the shrubbery of the enclosure.? There was a bear too, and that was that.? The trout-breeding fishery was interesting, though.? There was a time during the pre-independence days when catching trout in Kashmir held a special fascination for the British sahibs.? The world still prefers Kashmiri trout for its superior quality. The Valley exports half a million of that fish every year.

??????????? Hours lingered on till the nine of us were called for an after-dinner briefing.? Mr. Mukherjee was the first to speak.? In his avuncular style, he told us about the route we were to follow and the difficulties we would be facing on the trek.? Then Mr. Jayaswal took over from him.? Looking off and on at his mobile screen, he elaborated on what Mr. Mukherjee had said.? It was a hard trek, he cautioned us, but it had its rewards.? Finally, Mr. Gulzar (not the guide who had taken us out in the morning, this gentleman is the YHAI’s key person for the trek) began his exhaustive briefing.? The stretch to the first camp to Nichnai (11,948 feet) would be indeed an uphill task.? From that camp we would be climbing to the Nichnai Pass (13,458 feet) the next morning and then descend to the second camp near Vishnusar (12,152 feet).? Another hard climb, the one to the Gadsar Pass (13,763 feet), awaited us on the succeeding day.? It is the highest point on the trek.? Crossing that pass, we would descend to Gadsar (10,777 feet). Satsar (11,810 feet) was to be our next stop.? Another ascent to Zach Pass (13,428 feet) would take us to Gangabal (11,482 feet). ??From Gangabal it was a down-and-down descent till we reached Naranag Village.? A YHAI-arranged bus would then bring us back to the Base Camp at Dachigam. Up and down; up and down it was; though there were some level stretches as well.? We would be wading streams and walking over boulders.? Up there, the paths were narrow and became slippery if it rained.? If we were lucky enough, we might enjoy a slide over a glacier.

??????????? The mention of a slide brought a ghost of a smile on our lips.? “For going to heaven, you have to make an effort.? The greater the effort, the greater would be your joy,” said Mr. Gulzar by way of encouragement.? He assured us that we would be witnessing nature in its full glory at every turn that we took. But then his voice became sombre.? Each one of us participants had to be absolutely certain of his or her mental and physical health before setting out for the trek.? People were known to have collapsed midway.? It was utterly difficult, if not altogether impossible, to rescue anyone involved in an accident. By way of an advisory, he told us that keeping oneself fully hydrated was the most important thing to do in mountain climbing.? While going up an ascent, we would do well to maintain a rhythm, taking short, baby steps and maintain proper distance between us.? Loss of breath was a common complaint on the ascents.? To minimise discomfort, we might take short pauses inhaling deeply through nose.? The trick was to keep standing till our breathing became normal and then continue walking steadily.? Mr. Gulzar concluded his briefing with the direction that we would have tea at 5 in the following morning, followed by breakfast at 5:30 and packed lunch by 6.? Then a bus hired by YHAI would take us to Sonmarg, from where our trek would begin.

??????????? Things generally went as scheduled in the morning.? There were one or two among us who showed a little tardiness. They were warned that if we got too late, the police won’t let us proceed to Sonmarg because of the closure of the road for the Amarnath yatra.? We boarded the bus at last.? Abdul Ahad, our guide for the trek was there.? We found that Mr. Mukherjee was also accompanying us.? The 30 km road journey was covered in an excited hum of anticipation.?? At Sonmarg, each of us took charge of his or her rucksack to set out for Nichnai Pass.? It was 2 August, the third day of our arrival in Srinagar.

Mr. Mukherjee is a raconteur.? He kept telling us tales of his past mountaineering expeditions.? Talking while walking is all right for some people.? It takes away the tedium of a journey.? But talking while walking up a steep gradient is another story.? You are required to conserve all your energy to keep going.? Focussing on the terrain is another must in such circumstances.? A slight error of judgement and you are likely to hurt not only yourself, but others as well who might be following close behind you.? So, I civilly detached myself from the garrulous gentleman.? Step by careful step, I trod on the path.? Neither left, nor right and never backwards did I look.? My gaze was fixed on the next couple of feet of the climb before me.? If there was abounding beauty about me, I couldn’t care less.? Baby-walk twenty steps, stand to catch breath, wet the parched throat with a little gulp of Electral-mixed water from my flask, and baby-walk again – that was the routine I followed.? The straps of my rucksack had begun to hurt my shoulders.? My companions maintained their own pace.? Vijay, though carrying a heavy load on his back (mainly his professional equipment) quite often managed to be far ahead of us.? Tek Chand too was mostly in the lead. Vijay’s two month’s hardcore training and Tek Chand’s expertise as a regular trekker showed.? Ever since his first trek in 2008, Tek Chand had done 18 treks.

?The rest of us just plodded on. Legs ached, heart and lungs worked almost beyond their capacity, mouth went dry and sweat oozed through every pore of our skin. But what seemed more bothersome especially to me was Abdul’s loud cry every few minutes from somewhere not far above us, “Shabash, Uncle!”, as if I were a seven year old who needed his encouragement to exert myself more than I was doing.? We had half-an-hour’s halt at ‘tea-point’ a shack serving tea and snacks, and another halt to take our lunch.? Authorities checked our identities before we descended to the valley. We reached Nichnai Camp around five. It was a sight to see.? The mountain sides sloping down to the ground were covered with a bed of flowery grass.? A silvery white stream gurgled past the camp-site.? The sky overhead was azure, with woolly white clouds scattered here and there.? Countless sheep with off-white coats bleated endlessly.? I felt rejuvenated as I greedily inhaled the fresh mountain air.

Mr. Satyanarayan, the Camp Leader, greeted us.? He said he would be handing over the charge to Mr. Mukherjee that day itself.? There was a welcome drink of bottled orange-juice, tea with biscuits, followed by vegetable soup, all in rather a hurried sequence.? We were allotted tents - red and yellow in colour, the bigger ones for three and the smaller for two.? Accommodating nine participants was no problem as there was space enough for 30.? Three olive green tents were erected at some distance from the living tents, two standing side by side and a third one, a little away.? These were the latrines.? Two for the male and one for the female participants.? This pattern of accommodation was replicated in the successive camps as well.?

On 3 August, we rose to a bright morning.? The latrines proved a disappointment to our urbanised selves – they were shallow holes dug into earth inside narrow tents.? The participants had to carry little buckets of water to wash themselves.? After our ablutions, the kitchen staff meticulously followed the YHAI routine of tea, breakfast and packed lunch. As we stood ready for the onward march, the Camp Leader told us that the second leg of the trek would be much less arduous.? We were to attain a height of about 2,000 feet to the Nichnai Pass and then descend roughly by 1,300 feet to reach the Vishnusar camp in the afternoon.? It was an easy gradient, he said, and there were some level stretches as well on the way.? We did reach Vishnusar Camp without much hassle. But then there was an unexpected development.

It was here that we came across Dr Rohit Munjal.? He had volunteered to serve with YHAI and would be at the Vishnusar Camp till 16 August.? A genial man of middle age, he asked each of us what was it that brought us there.? When my turn came, I told him it was to challenge myself.? My reply brought a flicker of surprise on his face, which he quickly changed into an encouraging smile.? Dr Munjal then enquired about our health.? Two of our companions, Ajay and Ashwitha, were not feeling well.? He gave them medicines and advised them to take rest. He would reassess them in the morning.

To the seven of us he proposed a trip to Vishnusar, a lake about a kilometre from the camp.? I was tired, but willed myself to see the sacred lake.? Dr Munjal said he went there every day. It met both his spiritual and bodily needs.? The lake water has medicinal properties and he drank only that water.? A rock on its bank provided him an ideal place for meditation.? On return to the camp, the good doctor complimented me on my state of health.? Yet, he checked my BP for his satisfaction.? It was normal.? At half past seven, there was a call for the dinner.? Less than an hour later we had snuggled ourselves into our sleeping bags. In the morning came the news that Dr Munjal had advised Ajay and Ashwitha to return to the Base Camp as they were not medically fit for the more advanced camps.? Ajay’s daughter, Saee as well as Ameya, who was travelling with them, were fit enough, yet they decided to accompany the sick rather than move forward. We felt bad for them. They had come this far and were returning without realisation of their cherished desire.?

We began the next leg of the journey to Gadsar on 4 August.? This time around, overcoming the hardship of the earlier part of the trek had sharpened my instincts and made me confident.? The terrain also seemed much easier to walk on. I strolled in the wonderland like an awestruck child.? The verdant ground, richly sprinkled with little yellow and purple flowers, looked like a humongous dot painting. Tall trees were scarce, though bushes could be seen in some spots.? Fresh, clean and sweetest water I had yet tasted was available in numerous streams and brooks throughout our trek.? We frequently passed by herds of sheep, mules carrying heavy loads and other trekking parties organised by private agencies. There were one or two persons riding on horseback. A white and a brown horse necking each other near a stream made an interesting sight.? The mountains surrounding the valley floor stood majestically tall; aloof as if of the mundane goings on.? I noticed a mud-brown structure straddling a peak near Vishnusar that looked a ruined fortification.? Abdul said it was called the ‘Vishan Qila’.? I was not quite sure of what he said.? As we climbed up the gentle slope, I saw a solitary tree a few hundred feet below.? It stood with its trunk slightly bent under a healthy green top. Fighting gravity, it was a very emblem of the will to live.?

The Camp Leader was right. The ascent to the Nichnai Pass did not prove much difficult. From the peak we could observe the twin lakes, Krishansar and Vishnusar. We had halts for tea and lunch at intervals and reached the Gadsar Camp around 3 in the afternoon. It was located in a vast meadow, where hundreds of sheep grazed merrily, making lively sounds. The day drew to a close as we whiled away the time listlessly.? The dinner was rather bland.? The sway of insects made eating difficult.? They buzzed around us in thick clusters and fell into our plates.? I could not finish the meal. The Camp Leader briefed us about the next day’s schedule.? We had to climb to the highest point of Gadsar Pass that day.? The path was littered with boulders which had to be negotiated with extreme care.? On the brighter side, he said that there was a magnificent view to be had at the top.? From that point on the path to the camp went downhill.? Considering the difficulty level of the terrain and the possibility of rain, the Camp Leader advised us to adhere to the YHAI schedule.

?The night-sky was overcast.? Before going to sleep. we prayed that there should no rain in the morning.? The nature had its own mind, however.? There were light showers during the night, but the sky was clear when we woke up to the call of morning tea.? Around 8 o’ clock on 5 August, we started off for Satsar across the lofty Gadsar Pass.? The sight of boulders scared me.? Steep gradients I had ascended and descended during my earlier treks too, but I never walked on boulders. To negotiate the risky stretch, I drew out my stretchable walking stick to a desired length.? It proved a mixed blessing.? Acting as a support, it took away my confidence. Mother Nature is loving, yet she can be strict.? She gladdens the heart and she punishes if you are flippant.? I don’t know whether it was a momentary distraction or lack of confidence when I tried to place a foot on a rock.? I missed and fell down, hurting my knee.? Thankfully, Dnaneshwar, our Team Leader, was following me closely.? He gave me ready support to stand up.? There were concerned voices of other companions.? I assured them that it was just a scratch.? I must gratefully acknowledge that young Dnaneshwar, and in some places, our guide, Abdul, were there to help me pass over more difficult of the boulder-ridden stretches.

The trek never seemed to end that day.? One false peak, then another and then another.? It sapped our energy, but Abdul’s cry “Shabash!” (he had stopped adding “Uncle” to his morale-boosters to avoid giving me offence) egged us on and on. Then it was there, the Gadsar Pass.? We had made it!? The view was spectacular and enthused us to carry on. We reached the valley floor in the afternoon.? A surprise awaited us.? ‘Satsar’ was not one lake, but three – Satsar-I, Satsar-II and Satsar-III – the last being the main lake.? The three lakes had the ‘Amrit-mahotsava’ signages fixed by their sides.? I would have been happier if the officials responsible for the courtesy had used the correct appellation for the holy waterbodies.? ‘Satsar’ has been distorted to mean seven (‘Sat’) lakes, which is confusing because in that particular valley there are just three lakes and not seven.? Actually, ‘Satsar’ is a distortion of ‘Satisar’ linking the lake to Lord Shiva’s wife, Sati.? There is even a little shrine to the goddess on the bank of Satsar III.?

Our camp was located near Satisar II.? We trudged a couple of kilometres to the main lake.? Vijay and his companions from Maharashtra got busy with photography, while Tek Chand and I basked silently in the glorious ambience observing the varicoloured Satisar. There was time enough for all of us to imbibe the spirit of the pastoral life. A little stream flowed a few meters down the camp.? ??I sat on a rock by the stream, in peace with myself and the world around me.? Time did not seem to matter.? It could have been a few minutes; it could be an age.? Then I noticed a movement in front of me.? It was Vijay with his camera.? The magic moment was gone.? My young companion wanted to have a ‘byte’ from me on how I felt about the trek.? Unaccustomed to impromptu speaking, I did not know what to say.? By then Dnaneshwar had also joined us.? Vijay asked him to put questions to me in the manner of an interview.? I began to speak.? At what stage the conversation turned to my personal life, I can’t say.? But the recall of my infancy brought tears to my eyes.? I am not the weepy sort.? What was it then?? Was it the lap of nature taking me back to the lap of my mother all over again?

?Another good thing about this camp was the Camp Leader, Mr. Shoy Joseph, an epitome of friendliness and hospitality.? I will never forget his geniality.? It had started raining and he came to our tent with an umbrella to escort Tek Chand and me, one by one, to the kitchen for the tea.? At the dinner time, when the rain had made it difficult for us to have dinner in the open (YHAI does not expect the participants to have their meals inside their tents), Mr. Joseph invited all five of us to eat in the kitchen itself, which, to Tek Chand and me was a first in our experience with YHAI.? Thanks to the Mother Nature and the Camp Leader, everything went off well at the Satisar Camp.? The rain had stopped sometime during the night and we walked under a clear sky the following morning.

We headed for the Gangbal on 6 August.? Our bodies attuned to the ruggedness of the trek, we walked joyfully towards the sacred place.? Nothing in particular happened except that the authorities carefully checked our identities once again.? There was yet another ascent waiting for us the following day.? We were to climb to Zach Pass and descend to the Gangabal Camp.?? Mr Joseph, the Camp Leader at Satisar had given us a pep-up talk on the unique view we were going to have from the Zach Pass.? From that height we would be seeing the lakes of Satisar and Gangbal as also Mount Harmukh Peak (16,870 feet).? Carried on by the spirit of adventure, we reached the Gangbal Camp without any untoward incident.? That was the last of the heights we climbed during the trek.? The thrilling sight took away our tiredness, though momentarily.

On the penultimate day of our sojourn in Kashmir, we made a three and a half hours descent to the village of Naranag, famous for the ruins of the Naranag Temple built by King Lalitaditya Muktapida in the 8th century AD. ?My Hunter shoes, which had carried me comfortably to the heights, now began to hurt me.? Their tight toe-tops just did not allow my toes any free movement.?? In steeper parts of the descent, I felt as if a heartless tormenter were pulling off my toenails.? Tek Chand muttered that I should have gone for a size or two bigger shoes for this kind of trekking.? Even he was having trouble with the tightness of his shoes.? “Should have” I think is the most hurtful pair of words in English vocabulary.? You just can’t do nothing to salvage the problem when they are uttered.? My kindly friend offered to lend me his own pair of shoes (he wears size 8-9 compared to mine 6-7), ready to walk himself in plastic chappals.? I declined his overgenerous offer.? It was during the descent to Naranag that we came across foreign trekkers from France, Maxico, Israel and Australia.? They were on the ascent.? One couple had even their toddler being carried in the lap of a local porter.? A lanky Australian gentleman (from Perth) – all limbs and torso – was climbing barefoot! ??Looking at him, I forgot my own discomfort.

A YHAI-hired Tempo Traveller carried us back to the Base Camp at Dachigam in late afternoon of 7 August.? We stayed at the camp overnight.? After breakfast the following morning, we were on the road to Srinagar.? Our young friends were staying in the city for a couple of days more.? Tek Chand’s and mine flight to Delhi gave us a few hours to visit the Mughal Gardens and have lunch at one of those restaurants recommended by our friends.? Then we hired a taxi for the airport.?

Sitting quietly with my friend on the backseat, I reminisced the past few days. It was an arduous and a risky affair, not without pain.? I could have hurt myself grievously in that fall on way to Satisar. Worse could have happened.? But, then in another corner of my heart, I felt the joy of having done it.? I had gone well beyond my comfort zone, living life to the hilt in those wonderful days.? That was a marvellous feeling, trust me!

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