Jammu & Kashmir – TRAVELTRUNK.NET

August 27, 2024

Gurez and Kheer Bhiwani- A Visit to An-Other world

Come, have tea. The pretty girl says, hanging out of the window of her wooden house. The invites are pouring in on this lovely sunny day. I ruefully decline. I’m not alone and we are running awfully late as it is.( the time plan goes further awry when I found the aunt had accepted someone else’s.) But I ask if I can take her picture. In the by lanes of this tiny village, the mousse brown house makes a perfect frame for her in her sparkling white hijab. Wandering back through the labyrinth of lanes we cross a mosque and exchange greetings with a matriarch sitting outside her house and a wizened old man reading. The driver has a bemused look when we can’t find half my clan. He points to a house in an alley. The girl who was chatting with the aunt on the road has taken the rest home. They are sitting on a carpeted floor with the man of the house, a ‘doctor sahib’, his wife, daughter in law and the extended family. He shows videos of him trudging through snow bound mountains to give vaccination shots to babies. Kashmiris have no furniture in their house, I was told. Well, if I had wall to wall carpeting like that, neither would I. The last few hours in Gurez Valley are tinged with an old-world charm and simplicity, that can be found, I suppose, in the backlanes of villages time has little time for.

Soon we reluctantly retrace our path back to Razdan pass where we had come from the day before, with a last view of this picturesque valley at the curve of the towering craggy range and the lake formed by the dammed Kishanganga river.

On the Road through Iris Pass

We crossed Bandipore town to climb into the forested mountain, leaving luminescent step-fields and scattered hamlets by the side. The first stop is for a picnic breakfast by the road under the low branches of a dark deodar. After making a tiny dent in the food packed for an entire army by the sister, and chasing elusive birds twittering all around, we are back on the road. Soon the last of the trees give way to the bare crest of the range.

A passing drizzle makes us skip halting at the Pir Baba’s shrine. Razdan Pass, the gateway to Gurez, lies buried under snow for months but summer makes it melt to make way for grazing sheep and, as we stop to discover, fields of wild iris shaking in the icy winds that blow the clouds across. I spot white iris for the first time. Then the path descends past birch trees growing at crazy angles. Lower down, frozen streams fill the folds in the mountains and a few tents mark the dwellings of the Gujjars. The valley narrows till we cross the dam on the Kishanganga river that gets renamed as soon as it crosses the border.

Another river story Along the Lohit on the Long Road to Walong

The Vale of Vistas

A boomerang shaped reservoir cradled in the nook of a steep mountain range, lush green with craggy tops, has come up because of the dam. Gurez valley stretches between the ranges in a perfect U till the famous ‘Habba Khatoon’. It stands seemingly alone at the end, surrounded only by lore of the tragic poetess-queen who lent her name to this perfectly conical rugged mountain.

She wandered in the valley and up the mountains when her husband, Yousuf Shah Chak, the ruler of Kashmir was taken by Akbar to Bihar, never to return. In between lie small hamlets surrounded by fields and the overgrown village of Dawar, by the side of a rushing river. The mountain side is covered in patches of thick forest topped with rocky peaks with massive overhangs providing a perfect habitat for bears and other animals.

Read about Discovering Dibang Valley, the Last Frontier

Relearn the Art of Rambling

The plan at Gurez is to not have any plan. Just be!… And ramble…..Take off in any direction… up the hillsides, into the bylanes of Dawar. We reach late in the afternoon after an easy journey of about six hours. The weather has packed up so our afternoon walk plan gets shelved. In the mountains, man proposes and weather god disposes! So, we take a drive up to a Kandiyal Top to see the sunset. It is on an outcrop with a ringside view of the days last rays coming through a perfect V in the mountains and light up the lake or like today, let the clouds stream in. Then we ramble down the road savouring the beauty around. The weather is perfect for a cup of coffee at the tiny wooden café in the middle of town. The bakarwal dogs outside charmingly beg to be fed. The play of light and colours flit on Habba Khatoon’s stony face. Nothing like heartbreak or sublime surrounding to turn one into a poet like the queen. (No chance here!)

Next morning after a short drive on the road to Tulail we cross the river towards the spring at the base of Habba Khatoon. The weekend crowd is more of a dampener than the cold water and we turn back to the village enroute. Ditching the vehicles we walk along the steep mountainside dotted with walnut trees and wild daises growing near a village of old wooden houses. The people in this valley are Dards with their own language. A memorable morning of socializing ensues.

The Legend of Kheer Bhawani

With an evening to spare after a pilgrimage to Amarnath is done and dusted (and literally how!) we close the trip to the valley with a visit to Kheer Bhawani. Winding through fields of green paddy braided with tiny streams shaded by weeping willows we made our way to the temple of the goddess. This area was more of a marshland once. Streams that web their way around still have slim shikaras moored here and there.

A woman rows one, laden with provisions, in a stream that disappears into the backyard of houses. The route ends in the middle of Tulmulla village square after crossing a bridge. A massive red gate and wall surround the complex of the goddess. Inside small shrines dot the central area, and in the middle, surrounded by towering white bark chinars, lies the colour changing sacred spring from which the statue of Sheer Bhiwani and a shivling, their origins lost in antiquity, were discovered at some point in time. Now, in the middle of the spring a tiny ‘temple’ houses the goddess where she has the place of prominence. Through the water changing colour she portends the luck of the inhabitants of the valley. When we enter it is icy blue and then milky white. During the 1947 and Kargil war it turned black and during the recent pandemic red.

I made quite a pest of myself with the sister organizing the trip. Haranguing on about going to Gurez. A tiny valley still untouched by mass tourism and crass commercialization. To do what? Relearn the art of rambling! What followed was a trip to an other world of charm and tales.

Fact File

Distance

Srinagar to Dawar- Approx 137 km.

Srinagar to Kheer Bhawani- Approx 22km.

Best Time to Visit

Gurez Valley- May to October. It still remains cut off in winter.

July 31, 2024August 2, 2024

Kashmir with a Cup of Kahwa

Off beat places are dead. Long live offbeat. There is no place where someone has not already travelled to, written about and in this Insta driven world, posted pics of and gushed about. But what can still be exceptional are the experiences to be had amidst the crowd. Remember, kahwa is not everyone’s cup of tea!

On a recent trip to Kashmir Valley, the clichés were clinching. It is the proverbial garden of Eden complete with its own orchards (literally), not just a tree, of enticing apples! A land blessedly bountiful…from snow fed waters, to magnificent mountains, fruiting trees growing wild, handsome houses and their beautiful inhabitants. But the valley was drowning under a deluge of humanity (I was a drop too) trying to beat the heat and the only things melting faster than the people, was the snow on the mountains. So how does one immerse oneself in paradise when it is overrun by people? You have to own your own experience, to make memorable moments. Do a ‘In Kashmir do what the Kashmiris do’… and then some!

Go the Distance in Gulmarg

I did not want to go to Gulmarg. Been there, done something (it was decades back, so not like I remember any of it.) But mostly because everyone has the same idea. Sure, the rivers of amethyst-shaded lupins in full bloom, running down the folds of the gently undulating meadows with the picture-perfect little St Mary’s church on a mound in the centre, are a visual delight. Not to mention the wild carpet of daisies that grow under the towering conifers everywhere.

Read about other churches in- 3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

But leave the hordes and drive beyond Gulmarg on the Bota Pathri Road and in between the thickly forested patches, shading shallow streams running around moss covered rocks, are the settlements of the Bakarwals. The flat roofed ‘kothas’ are gaily painted in stripes of bright colours and look as cheerful as their inhabitants.

These are the summer homes of this dying breed of nomads, who migrate to lower pastures lock, stock and barrel when these regions get buried under snow. As soon as we halt, we are surrounded by a group of chatty teenage boys while couple of younger girls hang back, more reticent. The boys are now enrolled in school somewhere. A woman snoozes on a bench and an old man watches us curiously from afar. Someone has opened a chai shop at his place and put up a fence. Soon the roots will grow more permanent and this nomadic lifestyle will be a lost story.

Walk through this life in- Tarsar Marsar : Memoirs of an Escapade

Ditch Dal Lake, Waltz ahead to Wular or to Manasbal Lake

The saving grace of the shikara ride at Dal Lake were the shikarawalas. Witty and charming, they kept us entertained but took us only that far into Dal whose waters seem to extend across most the valley floor. But what we traversed was just a tiny inlet lined with houseboats and swarming with shikaras. I tried dipping my fingers in the cool waters and was hesitatingly told it was best avoided. (No sewage filtration!)

Discover a lake like no other in- Pangong Tso – The Gems in the Crown

For a more peaceful experience head to Manasbal lake, cradled by bare mountains, with it’s lotus lined waterfront and get a glimpse of vintage village life from a boat. Here narrow alleys lead from the waterfront to houses huddled around mosques with multi-tiered roofs. In the park adjoining the lake, families spend an evening out in the lawns, eating giant baturas from the stalls lining the road outside. An ancient temple lies submerged in a lined pond close to the lake with only the top of its shikhar above the water. Head further to Wular lake, more expansive than the Dal and a Ramsar site. Watch, from the Vantage garden, geese line themselves up perfectly in a row in the water or see shikaras laden with mounds of lotus stems for that yummy nadru being rowed back from the waters fed by the Jhelum river.

The Best Kept Secret are the Bakeries

Heaven must smell like a bakery! One of my most abiding memory from an earlier trip to Srinagar was the smell emanating from a line of bakeries. Warm, rich and utterly enticing…The coconut macaroons (haha yes!) were the best I’ve ever eaten! Coconutty crisp sweetness!! The countryside in Kashmir might be luminescent with fields of paddy but on the plate, there are local breads and savouries of all sorts from the local bakeries or Kandurs as they are locally called.

From a crumbly sheermal, with that sweetened chai to a soft doughy katlam that would go down well with coffee (in my mind), ditch the packaged produce and walk into a local bakery and ask the baker what he’d recommend. You’ll probably be offered some to try out, if you butter him up well!

Savour- Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

Place for a Picnic

In Kashmir, you don’t need to look for a place to picnic. A picture perfect patch lies at every curve and corner. Be it on a slope beneath dark deodars, in an orchard of ripening apples (better ask for permission here), under a shady walnut tree growing wild or beside a river running riot or high up on a grassy wind kissed mountain pass, take a mat or like the Kashmiris do-a carpet (they have enough to spare!) We crossed families doing a cookout or with a giant samovar for rounds of tea, enjoying their day in the sun. Outdoor is the place to be in the Valley but remember to leave no plastic behind.

Read- A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

Kashmir is a place to commune with nature. It is a sensory feast, a visual wazwan… and That is the exceptional experience to be had in whichever manner in the Valley. Even in the midst of the maddening crowd there are spaces for silence and solitude to be savoured with that cup of Kahwa. Discover yours!

October 22, 2021October 22, 2021

Tarsar Marsar : Memoirs of an Escapade

The night prior to my early morning departure for Srinagar Syed Shah Geelani passed away, thankfully in his bed. In Delhi that evening scrolling through Inshorts it registered vaguely, my mind more on organizing my gear and the 6 am drive to the airport. I was praying it wouldn’t rain (it did!) like it did in the day, when Delhi took a dunking in record rainfall. To top it I was going alone, trekking with a company found on the internet, with companions I had no idea about. And yeah, 2 phone numbers to tie it all together. How desperate could I be to do this trek?

Roller-coaster Ride

So we cross the Pir Panjals and cruise low enough to make out houses, fields and streams in a wide valley cupped by snow capped mountains. We land and as we are heading out I hear snatches of conversations – No network, Covid retest. An earbud-like treatment is the least of my issues. The Valley’s communication lines have been shut down. No phones, except for BSNL postpaid (which I do not have) and no internet! A long dawdling wait at the airport ensues where strangers generously lend me their phones to make frantic calls, offer to drop me to Pahalgam… the Dal Lake! One driver asks me who I am trekking with and when I say Fayaz bhai he tells me with absolute conviction to wait. Someone will come he says. And so I do, till I find my trekking companions and the missing driver. Relief! Then it’s a drive through shuttered towns with lots of detours and at Anantnag, an unyielding cop makes us think this is the end of the road. I am with a group of Bengalis and if anyone can take on authority resolutely yet sweetly, it is a Bengali woman. He finally relents and we are soon crossing the flowering gardens of Pahalgam by the blue Lidder and galloping towards Aru like horses nearing their stable.

A river runs through- Batalik – A Tribute to the Human Spirit

Meet the People at Aru

Fayaz bhai is our trek leader and cook. A typical tall Kashmiri with a hooked nose, he is reticent with a watchful smile. We stay at his house the local way- in one big carpeted room, bedding in a line on the floor. Not what I am expecting but then that seems to be the theme of this trip. Dinner is in a similar room downstairs and the Haaq is fresh and delicious. His mother lets me warm my hands on her kangri, although the conversation is limited with lots of smiles to fill the gaps. His young niece, Shagufta is like a curious pretty butterfly, and takes a shine on some of us and an instant dislike to one. The entire household sees us off the next morning.

Discover deserted mansions in – Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

Sound of Music

Shahnawaz, our guide, is a young lad studying in grade 12^th with dreams to be a doctor. He is like a herder with infinite patience and a gentle mien. On the intermittent open slopes enroute to Lidderwat we come across kothas, the flat roofed mud and wood dwellings of the Gujjars. As we take a breather near one the kids come scrambling, then bashfully ask for chocolates. We cross families of Bakarwals striding down, their colourful horses at times carrying sacks of wool.

The last meadow before the wooden bridge to Lidderwat is like a movie, Sound of Music perhaps. Little white flowers dot the greenscape. A horse munches on the grass sprouting on the roof of a kotha made next to a massive boulder. The silence is broken by the baaing of a herd of sheep that sweep across the meadow.

I found wishes were not horses but camels – At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

Lidderwat lies at the confluence of the Lidder River which originates from the Kolahoi glacier and a stream fed by the runoffs of Tarsar and Sundarsar. The place is overrun with sheep, ponies and kids looking for a sugar rush and at night, a bear or so I am told. Alone in my tent at night I wake up startled when something large bumps into my tent but the ferocious barking that ensues is like lullaby to my ears.

Shekhwas‘s Stellar Surprise

We are taught traffic rules of narrow mountain paths on the move early enough the next morning. ‘Side, side,’ shouts Shahnawaz from the back as the horses carrying the camping gear catch up with us. We move hither- thither. He says, ‘mountainside!’ The ponies always walk on the edge we learn.

Shekwas has no trees, no lake, just endless slopes of green converging into a stream in the middle. The evening is spent in solitude on the slope above the camp watching the horses and sheep without any minders. But the night! Oh my god the night! I could have slept, I should have..(Would have been a frozen ball in the morning though.)… under the Milky way! We step out from the dinner tent and I gasp and stop dead. The galaxy is a creamy luminescent cloud in a sky already crowded with stars, shooting stars, satellites. An astronomy enthusiast points out Saturn and Jupiter. The sky seems to say this stellar show is only for those who tread this path, when I fail abysmally to photograph even a twinkle…. I reluctantly agree.

Read about another out of this world experience in- Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

The Garden Path to Tarsar

In the morning a sharp whistle has me rushing out of the tent thinking its an exotic bird only to see a sweeping mass of white dots moving near the kothas across a stream from us. The herder and his flock have set out for the day. The walk up to Tarsar is a ramble on a mountainside park strewn with boulders, Pipits and Accentors hopping on them and flowers growing in between.

Explore – The Gardens of Delhi – A walk not only on the green side but through history itself

Tarsar in a kidney bowl is a mere reflection of the game of chase being played out above, faithfully changing colour. Sunlight like dappled diamonds plays on its surface. The wind makes it move restlessly against the rocks in the afternoon. A peachy grey dusk brings the curtains down on an evening of songs with warming cuppas as Mercury shines brightly above silhouetted craggy peaks.

A Study

The next morning as all the trekking groups crest the pass together, the heights are a study in human behavior. The adrenaline junkies are on a high(t) and on all the edges, the selfie fiends hog the best spot, the solitude seekers tune out of the circus. All paying homage to the placid lake below. The trail spreads out again as we head down towards the meandering stream in the distance. Its boggy surroundings houses marmots we discover.

We camp next to Sundarsar and after lunch follow the goats across a pass for a bird’s eye view of the twin Marsar. Across the pass 2 dogs charge at us but are firmly brought to heel. The older one is unfriendly but the younger one hasn’t lost his innate friendliness. Still, with a sheepish wag of his tail he maintains his distance now. His owner then disappears behind his flock into the rocky face of the mountain lining Marsar, a dour looking massive lake so far below. The mountain range on the other side seems to be the end of the world.

Portrait of a Shepherd and an Obedient Dog

Find a lake like no other at- Pangong Tso – The Gems in the Crown

At Sundarsar the pack horses are being lured back to the camp with treats. Mushtaq is the pony guy and his intense eyes are a little disconcerting but his devotion to the animals is absolute. The helper at large, Shabir dresses one’s wound and then their forelegs are bound for the night. Waking up at dawn next morning I am duly rewarded with the stunning sight of Mt Kolahoi’s outline towering in the horizon. The clouds quickly drape themselves around it.

The Women at the Meadows

The long march back to Lidderwat is along the stream coming out of Sundarsar and we cross kothas with Choughs pecking in the empty corrals and women inviting us in for tea. Most of us move on regretfully. At Homwas near a Kotha barely discernible from above, the Bakarwals are sitting, literally on the sheep. Years of practice shows in the methodical evenness of the shearing being done with ancient scissors. Bags of wool sit waiting to be loaded onto the horses. A young girl wants to see what I have shot. As I sit to show her, a little scruffy girl, barely 2 feet off the ground, who has been watching me with big round eyes comes and tucks herself into me to watch too. I can do nothing but hug her back and beat back a crazy desire to carry her home.

The trek, a journey and some companions.

Back at Fayaz bhai’s house his solemn boys find us and some treats. Shagufta finds new people in her house. I had gone for a trek, thinking only of the mountains I wanted to be in. Kashmir is truly a generous gift from nature. But I learnt how much a place is about its people. That a trek is a journey and companions matter.(Totally lucked out on that!) At some level it felt we were all just walking each other home.

Take a rambling walk with me in- Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

September 23, 2021September 27, 2021

Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

Like I overheard at the tail end of the trek- “There is so much on the internet about Tarsar Marsar.’ True, since it is easy on the eyes, to say the least, it is an ‘A’ Lister of treks, but most of what is written is from a trek company’s perspective. Natural beauty apart, it is peddled to be an easy-moderate trek. Assuming you are moderately fit like me, how would it pan out for you? ..Easy or moderate? Take a rambling walk with me through each day and find out. The walk starts from Aru.

Day 1- Warming up from Aru to Lidderwat

So we start from the home stay, at around 8:30, bidding goodbye to our hosts like we are going to summit Mount Kolahoi itself. In full disclosure of ignorance I had not heard of it before. And it takes couple of days for the name to start rolling of my tongue. But I’m smitten! Such sharp features, what a towering personality! Oh better get moving with the trek… So we are huffing and puffing in the strong sun in 10 minutes, walking up a gentle slope with swaying grass growing behind the fence of the agriculture dept. on both sides. We summit the slope and flop down on a rolling meadow sandwiched between massive conifers groves. Rousing ourselves from our picture perfect setting we dive into the thick conifers ahead. And so it continues over a gentle up-slope walk through sloping meadows and thick trees for 10 odd kms. At one place it narrows out in the woods and the Lidder river can be heard roaring far below and in another we walk down almost to river level with a tea point where we have our packed lunch and say tentative hellos to the other group of fellow trekkers sprawled around.

Read about an emerald river in – Part One- On the Wild Side of Outstanding Orchha

At the last meadow before our camping ground, the path leading down to the river is like someone got into a snit and said just get down will you! Follow this stream of water down….Walk across the wooden bridge and voila!… Lidderwat!

Day 2: On the rocks from Lidderwat to Shekhwas

Its supposed to be 5.5 kms that day but it feels more like 7 and the early trekkers on the starting slope in the distance make it look easy. One can’t see the slatey path or the narrowness from the camp. But the minute we turn into the narrow valley with a stream far down, it eases off. After a short undulating walk we cross a trickle coming down and fill our bottles. We round another bend where a hawk hovers to reach the meadows of Homwas.

The sides of the valley are steep but the walk is gentle and we cross the stream and head towards the end of the tree line. It all narrows and we are walking on swirling root steps of a tree leaning into the stream below. Then we are between a rock or rather boulders ending in a hard place- the gushing stream. The alternate route will add another hour. I give baleful looks to Shahnawaz, our young guide. We dive onto the boulders and I hate it! I have no sense of balance and thank my stars I make it without twisting my ankle or wrecking my knee caps. All with help of the gallant young guide.

Bliss is what is to be found on the slopes of Shekhwas

Our camp is a short walk up and ahead on a slope of the expansive bowl. Oh! no! As we start the climb up some madness takes over and a fellow trekker and I decide enough of trudging and race up the slope like the locals. No paths! It’s an exhilarating end!

Discover a place marooned in the mountains in – Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

Day 3: Rolling uphill from Shekhwas to Tarsar

By now I have tapped into my inner pahadi. It also helps that’s it’s the easiest 5 km walk so far… A boulder strewn wide gentle slope is what we traverse most of the way. I am able to walk ahead, take pics, fall behind and catch up without losing my breath after a while. There is just one big stream to cross.

Of boulders, birds and beautiful flowers

The flowering mountainside is ours to walk on and we crest and spy our tents beyond a dip. We have made it in time for lunch in about 4 hours and our tents are pegged on a slope before the lake. Super excited about making it to the first lake we take a short walk to see it. A jagged mountain hides Tarsar in its folds… Finally, the almond shaped lake with its water gently being pushed into a stream by the wind. The sun and wind battle it out in this high altitude. The colours of the lake shift playfully along.

Read about a lake like no other in – Pangong Tso : The Gems in the Crown

Day 4- Brace up for Tarsar to Sundarsar

Valleys at our feet, vistas in our sight.

The Tarsar pass looks deceptive. Sure the climb doesn’t look gentle but it seems short. It is but it is also two feet wide in most places. A tumble won’t kill but it’ll take you down more than a few feet and leave you in a heap of bruises.

The summit seems rocky and constrained. That it is but it expands to take in everyone posing with Tarsar and it’s surrounding craggy peaks providing a stunning backdrop before descending on a path way longer than the ascent. The path to Sundarsar is laid out in its entirety. It’s through a U-shaped valley with a loopy stream sandwiched between boulder crossings. Those feet killers! The one at the far end is big and ends at the mouth of Sundarsar.

A small placid lake, it is set in a niche off the wide valley at a height of about approx 12900 , mirroring its rocky cradle. After lunch we follow the goats across the lake as they disappear across the rubble strewn steep path over the pass (The highest point of the trek at about 13200 feet). It’s a bit of a scramble but its short and the other side is an undulating ramble for a bird’s eye view of the Marsar lake way, way down below. A more forbidding, darker mirror image of Tarsar. This is as close as we’ll get to it. I feel a bit like a Lammergeier sitting 800 feet above the lake on a craggy outcrop. Not ready to fly.

Explore the colours of another far off lake in – Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

Day 5: Long walk back to Lidderwat

The night isn’t as cold as I expected camped next to Sundarsar but thats maybe because I am kind of surreptitiously given a fancy extra liner. A good sleep is needed because we are breaking camp at 7 for a long walk straight to Lidderwat instead of spending the night at Homwas, making it a 17 km march that day. I think the weather has a hand in it.

A meandering stream yet to find direction.

Much of it is retracing steps except initially we walk along the base of a valley being drained by the stream coming out from Sundarsar till Shekhwas. Midway the choice is to cross a big boulder fall or cross the stream. Rock and a hard place again. This time the hard place is a springy, narrow bridge across the stream, 9 feet high. Just can’t do it! Finally holding a human mountain goat’s finger I fairly skip across (if I may say so) the boulders through the stream.

We found a deceptive stream in – Chushul – Chumathang : Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

That bridge and the human mountain goat.

The weather report is spot on. Within half an hour of reaching Lidderwat the heavens open up gently. Its been a long but fun 10 hours.

Day 6: Rambling back to Aru

Picture postcard from paradise might look like……

I do the 10 kms back to the hamlet almost without a break. There have been arduous moments and moments of ruminating rambling. In the last forest patch with the steep slopes I’m virtually alone for a few minutes and it’s a bit unnerving but then isn’t this the ultimate ending?

Calling it just a trek would be selling it short. Coming up next- the adventure it was and the people I met along the way….we were all walking each other home.

Fact File–

1.Kashmir is an adventure. Period.

2. The hamlet of Aru which about 3 hours from Srinagar is the jumping off point for the trek. Everyone reaches the night before commencing the trek.

3.There are a few trekking groups which do Tarsar Marsar and they do organize pick up and drops from Srinagar. But do check where you are being put up at Aru. There are limited options.

4.Give cushion time for the return flight.

5.I went in first week of September and the sun was strong and the nights cold but not bitterly. Temperature range was 5-15 degree Celsius.

6.Its all about the shoes, shoes, shoes! I saw someone trying to break in a pair. What a bad idea!

December 21, 2018April 25, 2020

Chushul – Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

The wet land we hit within minutes of leaving Tangsey would be a birder’s paradise in warmer months. There is a village on the far side as we drive eastwards on the barest incline & cross corrals of goats & yaks grazing. The herders seem to be throwing down roots. The road winds it’s way up in the perfect U- shaped valley at a leisurely pace along a marshy stream that seems to lose its purpose & direction & seems to muddle along, going in the opposite direction to the lake left behind. We spot a marmot or two, the first of the distinctive Bar Headed geese & Brahminy ducks & for the others I spotted I’d need the expertise of a bird book or/& and a birder!

At the crest we realize it has been quite a climb because the other side is a loopy way down. The village of Chushul has the feel of an outpost – dusty & worn out. The first of the two Chushul War memorials outside the village stand as sentinels, guarding the memories of the fierce battles fought here, man against man, man against nature. The road had disappeared many miles back & an apology of a track hugs the range on the Indian side. You can take off in any direction, its so flat, & it would feel the same… mildly bumpy! Soon we hit a rocky stream of melting snow looking slightly impassable. We go downwards to cross it only to realize that the lack of rocks has made it too boggy to cross. There is nary a soul to rescue us in case we get stuck. So we go up along the stream & finally gingerly rock & roll our way across! We come across a deserted campsite, or so we think till we see this massive dog run in our direction. What a beauty! He gives chase, running along, not looking like he reciprocates the love…

Discover more wildlife in- Ranthambore Alert -Ticketing Trials and Tiger Trails

The multi-hued mountain that creates a bend in the river

We go over a rise & on the other side we get a close up look at a herd of yaks, most camera unfriendly. The track now has the most amazing tourmaline pink colour to it. The valley is broad & pebbly, so wide, flat & straight I can imagine those herds of wild ponies on a full gallop here. We seem to heading straight towards this multi-hued mountain on a road now (They’re have a mind of their own here, the roads..suddenly they are there & just as suddenly they decide they’ve had enough of travelling!) which seems peppered with turquoise stones. The kind that one finds in the silver trinkets in Leh. I can’t get over these iridescent roads! We near the mountain & there is a stream skirting it’s base. The road turns & we leave the wide valley & the imaginary horses. The stream accompanies us, meandering, creating huge wetlands & we spy pairs of Brahminy ducks & the first of many Kiangs! Finally!! It looks nothing like the donkey from my first trip. There is a campsite of herders on the other side. As we near Nyoma the stream reveals its full form as the Indus. But here it is still winding its way leisurely, gathering power, not yet intent to get going. The valley is wide, sweeping & as sandy as the Thar. It looks like the background of a Thangka painting. The hills keep up the play of colours intermittently, now burnt pink, now mossy green, the dullest mauve. By the time we reach Chumathang it has been a long, slightly bone-rattling haul & I am grateful for the steaming hot spring water soak at the end of it all. Now that & the brandy that followed are the way to end a road trip.

Now that it is all coming to a close, I wish I could start all over again. The solitude has been profound & a most welcome change. Even Leh seems crowded now! Each valley has had a distinct feel to it, its own character. The colour palette so rich & full, the sweeping vistas &, in our case even the meager wildlife have been a visual feast. The next trip is on the cards….

Read about the very first trip in- The First Visit

December 19, 2018April 25, 2020

Pangong Tso – The Gems in the Crown

Take some deep sapphire, the kind that costs a fortune. Take some emerald. Add a dash of coral. Crush it. Toss it all in the air & what you see shimmer & glint in the sun, is what you should expect at Pangong Tso. The colours & hues shifting, altering – lightening or deepening depending on where the sun catches them. The water so clear & yet, the colour so intense that, the stones in the water are barely discernible.

The narrow winding valley from Tangsey which opens into the expanse of Pangong Tso is like a collection of short stories itself. The first one starts with a grassy vale & a winding stream. To complete the picture there is a family of fat Chukars. There seem to be no other kind! On the far side we spy an orangish-silver fur ball hopping. Its a fox! With a magnificent tail (The kind I can imagine draped around my shoulder with the PETA kind baying for my head for just having such a sinful thought! Oh well! You keep your tail fox & I, my head.) trying to coax it’s evening snack out of the ground. We can’t make out in the end whether it trots off in disgust or triumph.

Then after a short drive there are some ponies with gorgeous manes & swishing tails.( No sinful thoughts now.) We’d been told that there are some herds of wild ponies still left. But sadly these are not those. A few huts nearby confirms their tame status.

Then we hit upon a patch which seems lumpy & there are these tiny mounds in the boggy looking ground. We see one toothy marmot sunning itself. It has to be a crazy animal! It lives underground, in damp looking places in that cold! Our driver does’t let us share our parathas with it. (We sound like “Those Terrible Tourist Type’.) ‘Don’t spoil his habits’, we are told by the environmentally enlightened driver. There are these goats grazing nearby & suddenly one comes running with great interest. So it is the lucky one to get the paratha. It is convinced there are more on offer & after nosing around (Not butting thankfully) our pockets it decides to get into the vehicle & help itself since we are clearly not obliging it anymore. A quick slamming shut of doors doesn’t deter it & it is ready to hop in through the open window! Never doubt the tenacity of a hungry goat.

Read about another place with monster-sized goats in-Barot and the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

Finally we get our first glimpse of Pangong Tso after crossing this big dried pond. Are those colours possible?! There we are at one end of the lake. The famous ‘Garnet hill” on one side. I don’t know if it has anything left to justify it’s name. A few Brahminy ducks & gulls in the shallows of the lake. The gulls are riding the icy wind every now & then, squawking. Some enterprising fellow has hauled a red scooter near the water for the people to get photographed on. A hangover of ‘3 Idiots’ I presume..

Ahead we find a path going down to the lake. The colours turn translucent up close. There is an orangish tinged shallow on one side, separated from the main lake by a sand bar. On the eastern side it is all blue. Its a colour so intense & I can’t recall having seen it anywhere before. Not just a ‘blue’ but all the shades in the palette. Is there a hint of green too? The shading made more intense because of the bland, bare hills around….sigh! I wish I was an an artist. We just sit by the lake & soak in the colours as the breeze blows madly at times. Just a little longer…There going to be a full moon that night & I can only imagine how magical it will look…

Discover more colours of Ladakh in- Chushul -Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

December 15, 2018April 25, 2020

Nubra Valley – Forging our own path

Making our way up to the top of the motorable world

Khardung La is not for the thin blooded. Although its an easy, winding climb up but its the sheer altitude which ensures that you don’t take it lightly. One minute you can be fine, posing in front of the 18,380 feet board, feeling giddy to be on top of the world & the next minute the “on top of the world” giddy feeling gets real & acute & you are slightly sick. Fortunately help is at hand & after some pure oxygen & piping hot tea, you make sure you get down to the lower reaches of mother earth ASAP! But it seems the lack of oxygen has addled our brains a bit because we can’t resist stopping again, some way down, to have an “icicle battle”. The melting snow has exposed them right along the road.

The descent on the other side seems lesser till we realize that the slope has plateaued before falling down into the serene valley & the turquoise Shyok winds its way at the bottom. Its a sunny, warm valley with the mighty Karakoram mountains flanking one side. Wow! One had only read about them in school books & now here we are…across the last range of the Himalayas & knocking on the doors of the next great range…Fantastic! One leg of the valley heads off towards Siachen & the other towards Turtuk. Due to paucity of time(Darn that factor again!) we make pit-stops nearby only. At the hot spring in Panamik, which is en route to Siachen, there is a basic structure with clean men’s & women’s sections. Its deserted & the water is hot & thankfully not smelly at all.

Read about the journey of another river in- Chushul -Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

Diskit monastery perched on a mountainside

In the warm haze we see whirlwinds dancing across the valley floor near Diskit. The monastery seems to have grown organically from the mountainside. The imposing statue of Maitreya Buddha near it looms large as it looks benignly westwards. The monastery houses, apart from statues of some pretty fierce looking deities, a mummified head & an arm of a medieval soldier. It takes a little searching in that room full of ancient relics.

Read about monasteries set in another time and place in-An Ode to Ancient Life in Stone- The UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ajanta &Ellora

The popular touristy thing to do is to go to the dunes at Hundar & take a ride on a Bactrian camel, which looks quite pitiful while molting .

Turtuk sounds inviting. (The name as much as the place!) I just love the name but I keep confusing it with Tobruk..which is just a continent away..!Any how, we head in the opposite direction the next morning. As with all worthwhile places the journey is as alluring as the destination. The road runs initially in a seemingly straight line in the valley. Suddenly it all curves to one side & the road ceases to be one. Its not only that there is not a soul in sight but one can feel the isolation.

We make a picnic breakfast halt by the river & we spy this low small cloud at some distance in the valley & it seems to be raining in that teensy patch. Its a clear day otherwise. We keep a wary eye out, ready to make a dash back to the car. Other than the odd boulder there is no shelter. After some time on the move again the path gives up any pretensions of being one, sort of saying,”figure out your way!” At one place we navigate over a fresh mud slide, rocks, silt & all. Slipping & sliding, bumping over the half buried boulders I can say that we did figure out our own way! In the warmer months this route along the Shyok becomes impassable with landslides & higher water levels.

Read about another river that packs a punch in-Barot – And the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

I’ve been craning my neck & looking all over the mountain sides trying to catch a glimpse of some wildlife & finally I am rewarded with a fat Chukar partridge…right on the road! So much for making all that effort! Suddenly we swerve off the main road (Yes, it has magically appeared again.) into this gully & reach Tangsey in a bit. I try to imagine the Shyok’s journey upstream between those lofty peaks, heading towards Daulat Beg Oldie. Now that is again a name which sounds inviting!

December 10, 2018April 25, 2020

Batalik – A Tribute to the Human Spirit

Kargil is a regular trading town, slightly ramshackle, surrounded by apricot orchards. It is nestled at the base of this massive mountain which looks more pronounced as we climb up the gently winding road to Humbotingla.

The setting of the drive is dramatic with this almost black rock feature rising up along like a Grand Canyon wall…rugged & wild. The pass itself looks desolate with these snow covered peaks stretching out in all directions. On the other side, not far down is this village. Still reeling under the wind chill factor which hit us full on when we hopped out of the warm confines of the vehicle, freezing our grins semi-permanently on our faces like everything around, in the warm vehicle once again I can only wonder at the hows & whys of the people living in that village.

HumbotingLa -Here the world seems to end but not for the bravest

The road then descends through this steep narrow ravine, hurtling along a mountain stream & criss-crossing it & a village or two, clinging onto the steep sides & suddenly, the road swerves to a side! Thank god! There is the Indus, far far below, in a gorge nearly vertical in places.So deep, so silent yet relentless as it moves on, out of India. There in this seemingly end of the earth rugged place, nestled into a craggy outcrop, is this tiny oasis. This little’ Asterix-Obelix’ meet ‘Lord of the Ring’ elf’s village of the Brokpas. The village of Darchik.

Discover another village perched on a far-away mountain in- Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

Darchik looks like its been pulled out of an Albert Uderzo comic. Its a hamlet of handsome people. Their origins a mystery. One can’t help but marvel at the human spirit. Why, of of all the places in this whole wide world, would anyone come & carve out (literally it seems) a life in this isolated narrow deep gorge?But these people came & now have this fairy tale place complete with green fields, apricot trees, pretty houses, crystal clear little water falls & streams rushing to meet the mighty river down below.

On the drive back towards Khalatse we crossed the other village of the Brokpas, Hanu. Got a fleeting glimpse of the most startling pair of green eyes full of mischief on this tiny tot running to these village elders sitting along the road. The drive back to Leh along the Indus out of Batalik was, thankfully, less vertigo-inducing than our route in & we saw a massive rock in the river which, according to the driver, has Buddha’s ear carved into it. Our driver being a local of this valley had turned his nose up at the dried apricots available in Kargil. He insisted that the Batalik ones were the melt – in -the -mouth kind, which they were. We also picked up some ‘shilajit’ which is found in the upper regions of the valley. I couldn’t get myself to have it finally, having heard so much of its …ahem, uses. I had visions of myself running around with either topped up testosterone levels or/and hot flushes!! Some aspects of the human ‘spirit’ are valued only in the mountains I guess!

December 4, 2018April 25, 2020

Dras – Highway through Heaven

Setting out early on a clear crisp morning on the highway from Leh to Dras we hit Pathar Sahib soon enough. Like we were to discover, everything in Ladakh is larger than life & incredible is the norm, we bowed our heads in front of the rock bearing the indention of Guru Nanak’s silhouette & the demon’s foot. Guru Nanak seems to be the original intrepid traveler.

On the road again we crossed the’ Magnetic’ hill. We sped past it as it held no such ‘magnetic’ attraction for us. The confluence of the two mighty rivers the Indus & the Zanskar showed the latter in much muddy light.

Discover Indus in it’s journey further on in-Batalik : A Tribute to the Human Spirit

The highway was a dream run & we sped past tiny villages, the surrounding fields showing a hint of luminescent green. The road alignment seemed to have changed since the last time I had traveled on it & we passed through the much photographed ‘moonland’ & not above it. We wound our way around the Lamayuru monastery which had been a bit of a blip way down there on a side last time. So there were none of the hair-raising ‘jalebi mors’ up to Fotu La where, the last time, our teenage (or so he looked) bus driver in all his youthful exuberance had taken a wide turn on the first bend down & so, had these two shrieking women nearly jump across the engine onto him.(I plead guilty to being one of them.) But to our credit we dint! We just held onto each other & prayed. Not daring to look down from the nearly 13,000 feet we were at. I guess our reaction just ensured he drove at a more staid pace & took tighter turns thereafter! The pass itself was windy & there was a hint of falling snow this time. The vista on the other side was stunning with this snow-crested massif on the left looking like a ‘I’ve- been- here- forever’ implacable chunk of giant rock.

At Mulbekh, right next to the main road, carved on the face of a giant rock face, stands the Maitreya Buddha, its base hidden inside a tiny temple.

Read about discovering Buddha & more in- An Ode to Ancient Life in Stone- The UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ajanta & Ellora

The ponies foraging as snow meets it’s end

Kargil seemed to be warmer than Leh going by the greener fields & orchards of flowering apricots. Their pale beauty frustrating my efforts to vividly capture their beauty on camera. After Kargil there were frozen streams of snow melting into the river flowing along the road. At one place the path had been cleared through this huge muddy mound of snow. Ponies grazed contentedly on patches of green along the snow in the fading light. Winter giving way to spring.

Dras was still frozen in most bits. A village on the far side of the stream was still snow bound. The entire geography of the place seemed to have altered since my last trip, it seemed. Given it was too early in the year there were none of the rolling grassy meadows & wild flowers that we had enjoyed that time. The War Memorial is a must-visit. The last letters making me want to bawl buckets. There is a ‘Draupadi Kund’, a fathomless spring ahead of Dras on the road to Zoji La pass. The Pandavas have supposed to have come this way on their last journey….It seems to have been the last journey of many a braveheart.

December 3, 2018April 25, 2020

This Visit -Of the Buds of May & Making Our Own Way

The pale poetry of the the apricot blossom

This time we decided to fly to Leh. Driving up, I feel, is better though. The places enroute, both from the Srinagar & Manali side, have their own beauty & not to mention the acclimatization is taken care of. But time…oh dear! Its always such a fight..for time, against time!

We went early in the tourist season. At the beginning of May the passes hadn’t opened & the schools hadn’t shut in the north & so we managed to beat most of the crowd. Each month of the tourist season has something to offer. May has the pale beauty of the apricot blossoms & snow, July is a riot of colours with the wild flowers blooming & then there are the festivals spread over various months & with the accompanying hordes! Take your pick. We made trips to Dras, Batalik, the Nubra valley, Pangong Tso & Chumathang. Tso Moriri would have required more time & for some obscure reason Zanskar didn’t feature on the itinerary.

Life will bloom anywhere where it gets nourishment

So at the end of this visit I have worked out the itinerary for the next! Will begin with Tso Moriri & take it from there. I’ve heard so much about the Chadar trek too but the one piece I did read about it, ironically, was about why we should NOT be doing it. It made total sense & as it is for someone like me who can turn blue, even south of the Vindhyas in winter, I’ll pass & hope global warming doesn’t get to it before I do!

Read about two stunning places not to be missed south of the Vindhyas in- An Ode to Ancient Life in Stone- The UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ajanta &Ellora