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Continued from Just The Beginning (Rupin Pass Trek - Part 2)
As the first rays of the early morning sun brightened Saruwas Thatch campsite into multiple hues, I showed MJ the spot I had in mind for a picture. With the sun on your face and the entire camp in the background, you had to sit atop an elevated rock, cross-legged, both arms extended and resting on your knees, the thumb and forefinger touching to make a tiny circle. Personally, I called it my Shiva pose. I only took that picture in select places, whenever I found a location and moment that felt right. Last time, it was at Tapovan campsite, at the base of Mt. Shivling. Before that, at Singalila Top, while looking at the Everest family and the sleeping Buddha. I struck the same pose at Chandrashila summit, as well. And, not to forget, atop the water tank of my house. I sat there in the same pose and looked at Hiranya Parvat, the first mountain I ever knew, the first mountain I ever climbed.
My picture was done in two or three clicks. But MJ took so much time that the spot and the pose went viral around the campsite. Shabar was the first to join us. After clicking his picture, I left. I had to get my backpack ready. Once I was done, I stepped out of the tent and found Mayank waiting for me outside so he could get his own backpack ready. He was having a discussion with MJ, both of them sipping their morning tea. After fetching my own, I joined them, listening without participating. I smiled when Mayank shared aloud a very intimate detail about his personal life.
It was a familiar but underrated moment I had witnessed many times before. Coming on a trek with a bunch of strangers, you are cut off from the rest of the world, surrounded only by twenty-odd people who have no idea who and what you are. Nonetheless, trust builds, and you end up sharing something you wouldn't share with everyone. Mostly, I remained on the other side of this phenomenon, only observing, never sharing anything personal about myself. On my last trek, that personal barrier broke with MJ, maybe because I was in a lot of pain from my fall while descending from Tapovan campsite, and she was very kind about it. All the same, talking to her about my personal life kept my mind off the pain.
It was difficult to say goodbye to Saruwas Thatch, which was glowing with surreal beauty as we left. I had made a rule for myself long ago: one location per day. I never broke that rule, even when my friends pressured me to. But for some reason, I wanted to break it and stay in Saruwas Thatch for another day.
Perhaps, I was growing old.
Once we were back on the trail, I found myself walking at the rear again. Although this time, it was neither because I was tired nor because I wanted to keep MJ company. That morning, Nitin, the trek leader, had burdened me with a glorious purpose: I was the Sweep Guide for DIY (Do It Yourself) day. The evening before, Nitin had relinquished his title to Syed. Mayank would be the Lead Guide, Jagrav would hold the middle, and I'd stay at the back - a job I'd have done anyway, title or no title. Not that the group needed much watching: this was one of the most experienced batches I'd trekked with. Mayank had done ten treks with Indiahikes, followed by MJ, who had done seven. Anand had done the Kilimanjaro trek in Africa, which was on my wishlist. There was even a person in the group who had already done the Rupin Pass Trek once before.
It was a very relaxing day. At one of our stops, one thing led to another, and we ended up dancing in a circle to a local Himachali song. Thereafter, just as we had been dancing, we sat down in a circle with Nitin at the centre, teaching us various things: how to find direction if lost in a forest, how to find a source of water, how to set up camp for the night using only what's in your backpack. He covered a lot, but one thing stayed with me.
"Did you know," he asked, rotating the compass in his hand, "that the compass was invented before the clock?"
When everyone shook their head, he continued, "Do you know why?"
Because direction is more important than time.
"Because direction is more important than time," Nitin voiced my thought out loud and a wave of thoughtfulness rippled through the group.
Not long after we resumed the hike, we came across a steep, snow-covered patch. It descended from the edge of the mountain, forming a snow bridge over the Rupin flowing below on our left. Crossing that snowy patch brought us to the base of a short climb that eventually led to a plateau above. And the view didn't disappoint - a large, flat meadow sloped gradually upward toward mountains streaked with white snow on all sides. I felt the urge to set up camp then and there, but there wasn't a single tent in sight.
When I finally reached Dhanderas Thatch campsite, I was bursting with joy. It hadn't seemed possible a few hours earlier, but the landscape had improved. The distant snowy mountain now towered over me, and what had been a barely visible strand of the Rupin had turned into a three-tier waterfall. It was hard to fathom that this same waterfall eventually became the river flowing beside our campsite.
"Our next campsite is over there," Nitin said during the cool-down session, pointing to the top of the mountain. I could see multiple snow-covered patches and tried to work out how we were going to make our way across what looked like a standing wall. A shiver ran down my spine. Then I looked at Nitin, Ronit, Varun, and Joginder bhaiya, and the climb somehow seemed doable.
Apparently, they weren't enough.
A newcomer joined us during the evening briefing. Navesh bhai meant business. His mere presence sent the message that things were about to get real. He was the guide who specialised in the trek portion that lay ahead. As he briefed us on the challenges for the next day, he reminded me of the drill instructor I knew during my schooldays. But theory could only take you so far. The briefing was followed by a training session on a snowy slope near our campsite. Wearing our helmets, gaiters, and microspikes, we learned what to do and how to react in case of a rockfall, how to place a firm foot in the snow, and so on. It brought back a flashback of a similar training session before Kedarkantha summit day.
That is when the rain came. I watched Nitin navigate the snowy descent with ease. I followed closely but didn't match his speed. Better to get wet than have a nasty fall. Once the snowy slope was over, I dashed to the A-shaped tent where everyone had gathered. Standing there, I couldn't help but appreciate how efficiently our Hillman tents were hitched to the ground. They were temporarily inaccessible because of the rain, but everything inside was fine when I finally went in to sleep at night.
Sadly, it was raining again when I woke up in the morning. I peeped out of the tent several times, hoping it would stop. I feared it would be a repeat of the first day, that I'd have to trek in the rain again. Everyone was getting ready despite the rain, so I did the same. It was an ordeal putting on the poncho. I couldn't wear it inside the tent, and outside, I had to hurry so I wouldn't get drenched. With careful steps, I went to the washroom, did my business, got back, brushed my teeth, and freshened up. All the while, it rained, adding to the dread Navesh bhai had filled me with the day before. Through the haze, I could see the wall I was going to climb, waiting for me, taunting me.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the rain ceased around breakfast time. Without further ado, we set off after putting our helmets on. Once we reached the base of the mountain, Navesh bhai called out, "All of you, put on your gaiters and microspikes."
We did as instructed. The lowest part of the waterfall was up close now, and a 45-degree incline covered in snow lay to the right. I was struggling to put on my microspikes when Nitin called out, "Kamya and Manish, hurry up! You'll be in front along with Navesh bhai."
It made sense to have Kamya in front. She had remained at the front throughout the trek and hadn't even used one of her trek poles. But why me? Was it punishment for lagging behind on the previous days, or a compliment - a chance to lead? I didn't have time to decide which. Once I was ready, I positioned myself on the snowy incline behind Navesh bhai and Kamya, and soon the entire group formed a line behind me as Nitin called out their names.
"Let's go!" I heard Varun's voice - he was somewhere in the middle. Navesh bhai began on cue. He walked like he was on flat ground; the only difference was that he cleared the path both ahead and, more importantly, behind him with his ice axe. Once he'd covered sufficient distance, he asked Kamya to follow in his footsteps. Being lightweight, she did it with ease, and she had finally taken out one of her trek poles. Nothing was going to stop her now. I followed closely behind her, whispering a silent prayer.
Om Namah Shivaya!
Put one foot forward. Dig your heel. Find a firm footing. Then put your next foot forward.
Om Namah Shivaya!
Put one foot forward. Dig your heel. Find a firm footing. Then put your next foot forward.
So on I went. While it lasted, I focused on nothing but Kamya's footprints. No finding my own path. No diversion. Navesh bhai asked us to keep going once the snow path ended, while he himself waited for the rest of the group.
Walking a little further, around a bend, the middle waterfall revealed itself. I put down my backpack and walked up to it for a closer look. The change of perspective amazed me. An hour ago, I had been at the campsite and this waterfall was a distant thing. Now it was the other way around. The tents had turned into dots down in the U-shaped valley, with the Rupin streaking through it.
"Good job, team," Nitin announced once the entire group had gathered and rested. "You've completed the trickiest stretch today. You can remove your microspikes and gaiters, but keep your helmets on. There's a change in plan, though: nobody rushes ahead today, and nobody falls behind for photos. All the girls and Manish will be in front."
Ouch!
Though, on second thought, it seemed like a good strategy. Until yesterday, the terrain had been undulating but mostly flat, so it was easier for the trek leader and guides to keep an eye on everyone. That wasn't possible today, since we were repeatedly walking through gullies and bends. Also, MJ didn't seem to be doing too well, so it made sense for her to be up front. It would help average out the group's pace and keep everyone together.
"Come on MJ! You are our captain now. Lead the way." I called out as Pallavi and Kamya gathered behind her. Following closely behind them, I made my way through several snow-patch crossings and intermittent climbs before we came upon a big snow bridge. It was a sight to behold. I looked up and found the upper waterfall, its threads like white spider webs cascading from the top of the mountain, then disappearing somewhere beneath the snow bridge.
Crossing over to the other side, we came upon a steep climb flanking the slopes that led to the top of the waterfall. After climbing a series of ledges, we finally reached the meadow at the top. The entire group halted there. I guessed the campsite wasn't far away when everyone was treated to a glass of aam panna, the kettle passing from one hand to the other.
Once the group resumed to cover the last stretch to the campsite, MJ, Pallavi, and I found ourselves at the back again, with a dutiful Ronit keeping us company. We came across a campsite on a mound. I didn't ask Ronit if it was ours, because I already knew in my heart where our campsite was. I was looking right at it. Down the slope, there was a wide meadow in the lap of snow-covered mountains. The Rupin waterfall had turned back into a river, fed from the alpine snowy flank, with a series of tents hitched just by its bank. I turned to Ronit, and his smile confirmed I was right. That really was our campsite. I covered the rest of the way singing my favourite songs, with Pallavi joining in between.
According to the official Indiahikes itinerary, the summit day was scheduled for tomorrow. Today was just for acclimatizing, so our bodies would be better prepared for the gruelling climb to Rupin Pass the next day. But for me personally, today was my summit day. I had seen plenty of waterfalls in my lifetime, but never before had I looked at one from the base and then climbed a mountain to view it from the top.
A few hours later, I was doing exactly that.
After evening tea and snacks, Nitin announced a casual walk for anyone interested. I was brimming with energy and agreed without a second thought, but MJ took some convincing to come along, and she was eventually glad she did. We followed Nitin and the river flowing alongside us until we reached the point where it fell as a waterfall, the exact spot that had been in our sight for the last two days.
It was the most picturesque scene of the entire trek so far, so naturally, everyone was immersed in capturing it to take back home. MJ and I did the same, dangling our legs over the ledge and striking several other poses. After everyone had their fill of photos and videos, Nitin made all of us sit together a little further away from the snout of the waterfall, without compromising the view too much. He then said something that sounded like a reprimand but actually resonated deeply with me.
"I understand that clicking pictures and videos are needed for memories. But did it occur to any of you to experience this moment, and not just capture it? Did you take a moment to appreciate yourself for what you've achieved? You're going to leave this valley behind tomorrow, never to witness it again unless you decide to come on this trek. I want all of you to think about that in silence. Take as much time as you need, and then head back to the campsite."
Nitin was right. What I was looking at was something out of a dream. In my mind, I traced it all - how the turbulent flow hurtled down the slope and descended into the valley below, a mere line snaking across the heart of Dhanderas Thatch, then journeying on around a bend and out of sight. But I knew it crossed the point in Saruwas Thatch where I had sat two days earlier, and further still, to the dhaba where I'd had a plate of siddu.
MJ was sitting beside me. I punched her lightly on the shoulder and said, "Thanks, MJ, for bringing me on the trek."
She smiled and said, "You're welcome."
"Here, read this," I said, handing her my phone, the screen open to my Notes app.
She replied quickly after reading only a few lines. "Wait, I've read this poem before. You shared it with me when you wrote it."
"Yeah, I know," I replied with a smile. "But read it again. Slowly, this time. Maybe mix it with the landscape around you. I just read it myself and realised the meaning of the poem deepens with altitude gain."
She rolled her eyes at me but read the poem anyway.
There's always
Another mountain,
Indifferent and silent,
Summoning the same man.
The pull of the climb
Is all he has ever known.
He doesn't spare a moment
To mourn the valleys left behind.
But it's lonely at the top.
Breathless, he stops.
The silence rushes in.
He mourns those who fell behind.
The drifting clouds morph into faces,
The ones who didn't come along,
They must have understood his eagerness,
As he understood their reluctance.
Then the clouds move on.
And so does he.
The clear sky has shown him
Another mountain waiting.
"So," MJ said, handing my phone back, "Ready for the next mountain?"
"I am if you are," I replied without a thought.
As we walked back to the campsite, I wondered about tomorrow morning. Somewhere above us, hidden behind the mountain ridge, Rupin Pass was waiting, indifferent and silent, just like the poem said.
***
End of Part 3
To be continued...
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