Kedar Tal Trek - Part 1

Document Title: Phat Gayee / Phat Jayegi
Dates: Day -1 and Day 0 (9th and 10th June)

Kedar Tal (Tal = Lake) is situated at an approximate altitude of 4,800m in the Himalayan ranges. It is the source of River Kedar Ganga, which merges with the River Bhagirathi in Gangotri, 18 km downstream. During its 18km existence, Kedar Ganga is as rough, fast, and noisy as you could expect an adolescent Himalayan river to be.

I came to know Tilak Soni, an avid mountain trekker from Delhi, through Indiamike.com. We had become pretty chummy over the last few months. Thanks to Facebook, I came to know of his plans to go to Kedar Tal, and if possible, try and explore further up. Leaves were arranged, and, Saurav, one of my colleagues, joined us on this trip. Few more were to join us later on.

So, on 9th of June, 2011, we landed at Palam airport in Delhi at around midnight.

Our Spicejet flight was funny enough. The correct departure time was 8.25 PM. We got a message as well as a recorded call that day that mentioned that the flight was being preponed [sic] to 8.25 PM. Hmm. How can something be preponed by 0 minutes? Anyway, the flight ended up being delayed by 30 minutes.

An old man was making a big hue and cry saying he wanted to get in the middle of the boarding queue. People were in no mood to entertain him - hey, all of us were in for the same flight, so why can't he wait. Apparently, someone had told him that there were limited seats, and boarding was only on a first-come first-serve basis. (Well not exactly, but that's how things looked:-)

Once we landed at the Palam airport, I called up our driver. He was waiting at the new T3 terminal, while we were at the domestic terminal 25 minutes drive away. His response when I told him this was "Phat gayee sir". Little did I know at that point in time that this phrase was going to be the buzzword for the next few days.

We met our fellow travellers at the airport itself. Lovedeep Sharma and his wife Shwetha Sharma, both settled in Norway for a long long time. We met Tilak finally outside his residence, and the 400 km drive to Uttar Kashi finally began at 01:20 hours.

In the cab, the conversation soon steered to details of the rough trek. We already knew that the three-day 18km climb was not going to be easy. When I prodded further for exact details about the terrain, Tilak cocked his head back from the front seat of the Innova and said these beautiful words: "Ab kya bataaon Sirjee, 70-80 degree continuous climb hai, phat jayegii hamaarii."

Phat Jayeegii? [Faulty translation: We're gonna be screwed.] 
Phat Jayeegii hamaari?

Those words reverberated in my ears for some time. Nowhere during the last two months of telephone calls, were those words ever uttered. It was just not there in the unwritten contract that we had agreed upon. I did not sleep that night.

We crossed Rishikesh at 5:20 hrs, and started the trip though lower Himalayan foothills. This is Ananda spa, a neatly located facility on the way.


We reached Uttar Kashi by around 13:00 hrs. Our stay was arranged at Hotel Shivlinga, on the banks of the Ganges.


After having tea, we ventured out to buy some provisions for the trek. And that's when this thing struck us - there is no sense of privacy out here. Check out the ATM:

People were offended because they were not allowed to stand right behind you, while you were typing the pin number. ATM activity is like a mini serial for most - they will watch you click, type, withdraw, and go. This is not to offend anyone, but I found this quite strange, considering the security we attach to ATM transactions elsewhere.

Lunch from a roadside hotel was crappy.

Vegetarian dinner was in itself very good. I managed to spice it up a bit with chutney of Piscean pedigree.

Zzzzz

We started off for Gangotri at 8 in the morning. Kishan Powar, our guide who has trekked our route 20-30 times, traveled with us.

Landslides are common phenomenon here. This one was particularly ruthless.



The true heroes of the mountains.


I saw a lady with her toddler on her back working as a contract laborer at this site. Truly remarkable, even though it's an economic necessity and not a virtue.

Here's the temple at Bhaironghati, near to Gangotri.


We reached Gangotri by afternoon. Jumbo Jilebi welcomed us.


There are shops and stalls selling pilgrim accessories. Some of them sell Rudraksh in the most unconvincing shapes and designs, and have stories to go behind them "You know, there is this one tree in the interiors of Nepal where such shapes are common." These are 100% guaranteed fake.

This is Surya Kund, right next to Gangotri, where the roaring Bhagirathi river (not yet christened Ganga - that will happen in Devprayag later) plunges down a gorge.



We went for a short 1.5 km trek to a cave just to see how our legs were shaping up. These are shots on the way.






This Sadhu apparently lives in this cave all year round. Note that Gangotri is covered under a THICK carpet of snow for six months starting October.


This is the Gangotri temple.


The real source of the river is at Gowmukh, 18 kilometers away. The glacier is melting fast, and the source is moving back slowly but surely. This is Ganga Aarti (Aarti = twilight), which is a worship ritual of the river goddess. River worship apparently is not a Hindu-only phenomenon.


I met two sadhus in the evening while chilling in front of our hotel. They did not want cash, but was checking if I could buy them some tarpaulin to cover their temp accommodation from rains. [This type of charity is not in my blood - I don't know what came over me.] It did not cost much, but the real cost was that I ended up being hassled by other sadhus left, right, and center. Ran in and locked myself up in the room.

I later met my original fellows and took a snap with them.


Their blessing was this: "Tumhara bhandaar hamesha bhara rahe!" (May your coffers be always full).

There you go - "Tumhara bhandaar hamesha bhara rahe!" That sounded much better than "phat jayegii hamaarii". I slept better that night. Tomorrow we go for the real push.

Part 2 can be found here.

What's in a name? Kerala style

There are fads when it comes to naming kids in Kerala. At one point in time, the craze was mixing dad's and mom's name and coming up with a totally meaningless (and in some cases meaningful) name for your kid. For example, if mom was Lizy and dad was Itty, the name of the kid would be Litty. Now, this guy named Tim would in due course marry Litty and their son would be named Titty. (Swear to God I did not conjure this sonflower up. I know a guy who goes by this name.)

More samples:
Bhaskar + Ammini = Bhamini/Ambha (girl).
Bhaskar + Ammini = Amar (boy)

And then, there was this time, when we went globally historical. We had names like Lenin, Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Stalin etc.(Tamil Chelvan Karunanidhi got bitten by this bug, and we have a Stalin in the Azhagiri to Kanimozhi continuum.)
And, a junior in my school was named Isaac Newton (double swear to God - first name, last name - yes!). I am sometimes tempted to put this in my resume, "I went to the same school that Isaac Newton did."

Let's move on to Betnesol - the name of a senior student in college. Yes - Betnesol, named after a medicine. Betni, if ever you read this, please don't take offense. I also had a Ghosh and a Bose in my batch, full blooded Mallus, none of whose ancestors had ever even been to Bengal. You Bongs watch out, we might even come up with Banerjee Pillai some day, if we haven't already.

But what most people in my state hate is the fact that most of us have initials, instead of proper middle names and last names. My name is Sajish G.P. It irritates me to fill out a form, where I have to type "P" as the last name.

But I guess I'm fortunate. I clicked these pics in a hospital where my dad was undergoing an eye surgery.

This fellow is a classic. I'm sure the Cold War is over, but the CIA still has an annual budget allocation to monitor his communication.



And while we're talking CIA and Russia, here's Mendeleev's (Bernard Courtois actually) contribution to names in Kerala.



Poor thing - she must have jumped in her seat during her medical studies every time they said tincture of Iodine.
Wait, did I say "she"? May be Iodine is a "he". There you go - the most unisexual name ever!

Phew. I'm glad that parents don't get to pick your e-mail IDs at least.

Update: It's been a couple of years since I wrote this post. In a recent visit to Kerala, I saw another instance of "family" names. Here you go:

There's still room for Shabin, Shebin, and Shubin in the family. Go ahead, get another auto and bring 'em on.

Chro: Dec 1 2007

Hey Doc.

Yes?

I read that a company in Japan makes high-end diagnostic equipment to check blood samples for the presence of leukemia cells.

Ok..so?

Now these are big machines, you know. High-tech that only them Japanese can do. But this company outsources the manufacture of nameplates for these machines to China. It's cheaper there apparently.

Really! That's news.

Now don't pull my leg on this one doc. Everyone knows China is cheaper, even me who's been in this facility for the last 6 years.

Alright. What's your point?

Doc, it bothers me. These metallic nameplates just list the company's name and specifications and says "Made in Japan".

And again...your point is?

Is it ethical to emboss "Made in Japan" on a nameplate that's actually made in China?

Yes of course! Wait. Good. very good. Do you know what got you here into this facility in the first place? You think you think too much.

That's not the point. Is it ethical or not?

I'll get back to you on that. Remind me to cancel your newspaper subscription, IF you get them from tomorrow.

Satopanth Tal Trek - The End

Old Posts:
The Beginning.
Day 1
Day 2

We woke up in time to see the stream in front of our camp with a thin sheet of ice on top, but showing a good amount of thaw.

The moon was still up.


Today was the day for the final push. We were planning to walk up to the New Base Camp (BC) of Mt. Neelkanth and from there to Chakrateerth. If we did good we would walk a few more kilometers and camp next to Satopanth Tal. With fresh snowfall in the past few days, the path was going to be tricky. However, with a campsite near an icy lake straddled by the mighty Himalayan peaks being our destination, motivation was oozing out of every mountain pore.

Breakfast was dull as I had lost the last vestiges of appetite. I had some biscuits and tea choosing to forego the roti and dal being cooked in our camp. We were raring to go, and as usual Mannu send us on an uphill climb with a promise to catch up soon, one that he must used to keeping. The views were too good everywhere.


Looking down, we saw them gather the gears and start to walk up.




In another 30-45 minutes our support crew joined us. Somewhere here:



We kept walking taking liberal 5-10 minute breaks in between. Climbing the rock-strewn path was no easy thing.


After crossing the New BC of Mt. Neelkanth, we encountered our first batch of fresh snow. It was a bit of dangerous going, as you would never know how deep your legs are going to go down.
And when we reached here I knew I will not be dying a happy man. This looked like a snow cemetery.


I imagined snow ghosts pulling me down and they did. And they pulled our captain down our too. The problem was that there was nothing like a "route" which was safe.





I know when I'm thigh deep in snow that I should stop. One more step, and I can be an ad for Levis Jeans with just the label showing. Looking back at it, the hard part was not your legs going down in snow. In a recent trip, we had oodles of that sort of stuff happening, but there was little threat. Here, the problem was the snow was on top of loose rock, stones and gravel. Every time your legs go down, you could sense sharp stones or whatever trying to cut your leg.

It was a tough call from here on. Mannu said that he can possibly break a trail. I wasn't keen, with all last night's thoughts running in my head. I decided to stay back and Shylu was also not keen on pressing further.

Mannu wanted to go ahead while we camped. It was his first trek of the season and he did not want to jinx it. Fair enough. Bhuvan went with him, and we watched them for a long time as they made their way through the madness falling, shifting, sliding, picking up, but not even once looking back.

Kuldip had set up the tent up on the New Base Camp in around 45 minutes.
Snap time.


The tea was ready. Mannu and Kuldeep were out of sight. We decided to just chill inside the tent. I slept off and woke up in the afternoon and started feeling bored after lunch. No devices to keep you occupied, your friend sleeping, your porter tired, there's nothing you can do but think. Or take snaps, but I had done that already.
So I started making a mini dam with small stones and mud on the little stream next to our tent. It was good to arrest the water flow for a while, and at some point, I broke the "dam" to watch it all gush out. I hadn’t played that game since I was 9 or 10 years old. Hmmm.

I think this is Shipton's Peak, in memory of Eric Schipton, one of the doyens of Himalayan Mountaineering.

Shipton could have been the captain of the 1953 Everest Expedition which put Hillary and Tenzing on top. In fact, he headed the reconnaissance mission on Everest the earlier year. But Major Hunt was chosen ahead of him. Part of the reason was Shipton was more of a mountain lover, some sort of romantic, with a hint of distaste for heavy-duty war-like expeditions. Britain needed a more pragmatic leader, and they went for Hunt. And the rest is history.

While we were dozing off and getting bored and building icky dams on silly streams, Mannu and Co was up to some serious work. I had given him my camera, and boy, did he bring back a treat!
These are pictures of Chakrateerth.



And this is the icy Satopanth lake. It was not Valentine’s day, but the ice formation was just perfect.




Mannu came back by early evening. He had tasted success and was possibly the first man to sight icy Satopanth that year. Here’s him sharing the icy details with an eager listener.



And these are the remnants of a dwelling.
A sadhu a.k.a saint used to live near Satopanth Tal year around. He used to get a lot of traffic, including foreigners. A sadwhi (saintess:) complained that he was doing illicit stuff and got the administration to demolish his arrangements.



Cooking is a pain at these altitudes.


We went to sleep early deciding to try and reach Mana Village back the next day. Frankly, there was no sense of disappointment in either of us. Two of our crew had made the destination. I still remember listening to Shylendran “Macha, reaching this much is big enough. What’s the point in taking risks that you are not comfortable with?” True. *

That's me - the Sherlock Holmes shadow shot, trying to capture a shot of the melting water early next morning.



Return was quick. We just hopped over boulders and ran down. This time – way ahead of our guide and support. I don’t know how that happens. Perhaps, we were eager to return to a phone call, our kind of food, friends, e-mails whatever. I guess we reached Laxmi Van in record time.
Here's the video of the breaking up of an ice-waterfall:


Few shots on the way. The following one is of Mordor.




This time around, we decided to cross the Alak Nanda on our way back. It was a bold, if not chilly decision. The water was only knee-deep, but it was freezing to point that your feet were becoming to become numb in 30-40 seconds, and the flow was not bad.





All of us were jumping around in the hot sand once we reached the other side. Shoes and socks flew as we tried to get out of them and press the numb feet in sand. Here’s a post-dramaticus photo.

There was one small problem though. Our guide’s thermal flask was forgotten on the other side. The ultra-efficient Bhuvan went back and brought it back. He had done what we did multiple times now. First to test the water, then to help us to the other side, and now for a flask.



The walk to Manna village was relatively easy.



This is the same doggie that I had captured in a snap a year back.


Once we reached Manna, we heard the big news. UPA had won the election, and Congress had an enormous upper hand. BJP was thrashed in Uttarakhand losing 12 out of 13 parliamentary seats. That evening we were having a conversation with Mannu (he was all smiles, his vote for the Congress helped, he had reached Satopnath etc.), one or two villagers, and a senior BJP functionary of Joshimath district. I asked this person why he thought BJP lost in Uttarakhand which was its stronghold. He had the usual reasons like giving seats to defectors from other parties. He did blame the ruling CM – Mr. Khanduri. His take was that Khanduri takes an even stance – does not care if the people in front of him were from Congress or from his own party – then what’s the point (in being in a party). So naturally, his party men were upset. And they lost. True. Such a politician cannot win elections in India. Unfortunately. **

Weather next day was clear. Here's a good shot of the streets of Mana.


* But, I spoke to him last month about the same things, and, ironically, far removed in time from that day, both of us agreed – but in the opposite direction – "Macha, we should have gone all the way.”

** Khanduri was soon enough removed from the post of UK CM.

Relativity

How far can one month be?
If it's a critical assignment due on June 8th, it is right there.
If it's something that you would rather do, it's an eternity.

Fresh air is in the air.
No traffic blocks when you wake up somewhat late in the morning.
Walk as long and far as your legs and your lungs take you.
Carry your own gear. And while you do that,
think about the fellow who filled air in your car tires and wonder.
Why was the last tire to be filled -always- the one next to the driver. Economics?

Forget what you have to.
Alzheimer was a man. Not a syndrome.
Forgive even what you don't have to.

I'm luvin it -
no connections -
except -
relativity -
and the need to do and know more. Explore!

Tere Bina Laden

Hi all,

This is from BLR and not Sudan. There's something really nasty that we need to talk about. We hush it up because it is very difficult.

This is what happened last Sunday. I was on a real estate mission to find a new home for rent for one of my close family members. We were tired and finally decided to use a real estate agent/broker.

He was buoyant about his inventory and we agreed to meet up with him some place in BLR. Nice fellow in his early fifties, suave, articulate, and sales-man-ie.

We looked at 2 places which we did not like - and cannot blame him for that. We wanted a Taj Mahal at the price of a Charminar (old time ciggie).

In passing he asked my relative where he lived - and I said "Beep". The response from his was quick But that's a majority Muslim area. "Beep" is infested with them. You know this place where we are standing, 3 kms on this side and 2 kms on that side, not a single Muslim.

I did not know what to tell him. Sorry Manzoor, Babu Jamal, Al Ameen, Asgar - all of you. I was in no mood to pick up a war of words with an idiot. I would have - but then it's not college. Let idiots be idiots.

But this is symptomatic of a problem that we refuse to talk about as a society. Why the seclusion? The broker and I belonged to two separate religions. How come he assumed that I did not want to be in a Muslim locality? Simply put - where did he get the globes to assume that?

The prized CIA asset was bumped off 48 hrs before I wrote this. Or was he really? Whatever.
But, was he the problem, or are we, all of us?

Yours,
Sajish