Hiking in the Himalayas Part I: Pune to Agora
Less than two meters below the earthen ledge where I am standing, a dirt path winds down the side of the mountain toward the town of Agora, the home of a few hundred residents. The sun is already setting; though it is not yet late in the day we are in the foothills of the Himalayan mountain range, and once the sun passes the ridge on the far side of the valley it will soon become dark. From where I stand I can see terraced fields stretching from midway up the mountain down into the valley and then back up on the far side. The air is clear and cool, and at the tops of the mountains we can see undisturbed blankets of snow. My four cohorts and I have taken refuge for the night at the local guesthouse, in reality just one small room without furniture. A teenage boy brings us tea for the third time since our arrival, and with our packs stowed away, our hunger satisfied, and our bodies exhausted, we prepare for the night and for a much desired, well deserved rest.
Uttarakhand was not the first place on my short list of destinations for our weeklong vacation, but after plans to go to Amritsar and Dharamsela feel through I opted out of a week in Kerala (I had spent the previous weekend in Goa) and decided to test my own physical fortitude. The trek in Uttarakhand, specifically Utarkeshi, was a four day affair, and I learned up front that we would be carrying all of our gear the entire way, sleeping in tents during the night. It was certainly a far cry from a luxury hotel, but in the name of adventurism and authenticity my decision was easily swayed. And, in retrospect, I am happy that it was.
And so it was that late one Friday evening five students from the US flew from Pune to New Delhi, arriving at around 2:00 in the morning in the Indian capital. Twenty minutes later we were in a rented SUV traveling to Haridwar, a site renowned for being a Hindu pilgrimage destination, as it sits along the sacred River Ganges. We arrived at around 7:00, at which point we could already observe thousands of Hindus along the banks of the Ganges. As we observed from the opposite side, a Hindu holy man approached us and offered to show us his Ashram, an offer that we accepted, much to our driver's dismay. As it turned out, there wasn't much to see; as far as I could tell the ashram was comprised of approximately one dozen members, most of whom briefly contemplated the entrance of five foreigners with about the same degree of interest as they would contemplate a fellow Hindu visitor before returning to their work. Before we made our departure the holy man instructed us to friend him on Facebook.
From there, it was another six hour drive through the mountains to our base Kuflon, a small camp area in the near vicinity of Utarkeshi. Right away I felt extremely nauseous, and as we climbed higher and wove deeper into the mountains I began to regret not going to Kerala. After about two hours we stopped for chai at a rest stop on a ridge overlooking the mountains and plains, and I mentally prepared myself for the next leg of the journey. Actually it wasn't so bad. The drive was rather strenuous, but now that we were up here the view was quite nice, and the air was fresh. We again took our seats, and our driver blasted off like an Apollo rocket en route to the moon.
It took about ten minutes for me to realize that in no way would the remainder of the drive be any better than the first part. As I in my misery sat in the lurching passenger seat of the SUV winding up the side of a mountain, I tried to fall asleep or at least take my mind off of the situation at hand, something that I tried to do more than once that week. It was all to no avail, for the driver, true to Indian form, spent about 50% of his time on the horn as we zoomed around tight blind corners, in an effort to warn oncoming vehicles that yes, a swiftly moving SUV was headed their way from the other side of the corner and no, it would not reduce its speed, slowing down be damned. I have been on roller coasters that are less vertigo-inducing than that drive, one which could offer a much more affordable G force simulator for aerospace cadets should NASA ever need to trim its budget.
The rest of the drive proceeded as such, and by the time we arrived in Utarkeshi I could barely walk due to the dizziness and disorientation. The drive had relieved me of my appetite, so I watched a cricket match while my cohorts took lunch. In Utarkeshi we also purchased wool clothes, for our trek would eventually be taking us to the village of Dodital, a snowbound area high up in the mountains.
The drive from Utarkeshi to Kuflon was brief, perhaps fifteen minutes. As we walked up the stone stairs to the cabins our host, Anil, emerged from his office. Greetings us warmly, he showed us to our rooms, which were quite pleasant after the long drive, and gave us a tour of the grounds. At the center of the camp area was an open air commons in which light refreshments and a small library were provided. We relaxed there for the rest of the day and all of the next, and on Monday we began our three day trek.
Traveling light was essential. We carried everything we needed in our trekking backpacks, including two tents. I carried one tent, as well as my own sleeping bag, and the weight was altogether surprisingly manageable. At times, especially when facing sharp inclines, the tent was a nuisance, but by the time we had reached the village of Agora, the site where we would spend the first night, we had determined that we would be sleeping in guesthouses anyway, and the tents would not be needed.
Agora itself was a remarkable village, nestled amid terraced fields overlooking a valley with a flowing river. It was there that we met up with two other individuals from the US, both of whom had recently graduated from Yale University. They were doing environmental conservation work in and around Utarkeshi, and to support themselves they led fly fishing tours to an internationally based clientele. We spoke with them for awhile, and then ended our night shortly after a dinner of rice and dal. We watched as the sun set and darkness fell upon the village. Distant lights from other mountain villages came on, and from where we stood the dark silhouettes of the mountains loomed high into the sky all around us. The first day was over.
The Sacred River Ganga in Haridwar
Inside the Ashram
View from the first rest stop
The rest of the drive proceeded as such, and by the time we arrived in Utarkeshi I could barely walk due to the dizziness and disorientation. The drive had relieved me of my appetite, so I watched a cricket match while my cohorts took lunch. In Utarkeshi we also purchased wool clothes, for our trek would eventually be taking us to the village of Dodital, a snowbound area high up in the mountains.
The drive from Utarkeshi to Kuflon was brief, perhaps fifteen minutes. As we walked up the stone stairs to the cabins our host, Anil, emerged from his office. Greetings us warmly, he showed us to our rooms, which were quite pleasant after the long drive, and gave us a tour of the grounds. At the center of the camp area was an open air commons in which light refreshments and a small library were provided. We relaxed there for the rest of the day and all of the next, and on Monday we began our three day trek.
Entrance to Kuflon
Traveling light was essential. We carried everything we needed in our trekking backpacks, including two tents. I carried one tent, as well as my own sleeping bag, and the weight was altogether surprisingly manageable. At times, especially when facing sharp inclines, the tent was a nuisance, but by the time we had reached the village of Agora, the site where we would spend the first night, we had determined that we would be sleeping in guesthouses anyway, and the tents would not be needed.
Agora itself was a remarkable village, nestled amid terraced fields overlooking a valley with a flowing river. It was there that we met up with two other individuals from the US, both of whom had recently graduated from Yale University. They were doing environmental conservation work in and around Utarkeshi, and to support themselves they led fly fishing tours to an internationally based clientele. We spoke with them for awhile, and then ended our night shortly after a dinner of rice and dal. We watched as the sun set and darkness fell upon the village. Distant lights from other mountain villages came on, and from where we stood the dark silhouettes of the mountains loomed high into the sky all around us. The first day was over.
Chhatrapati Lukeji at the end of a long day
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