The Wild Northwest; India's Last Frontier

Hiking in the Himalayas Part II (Electric Bugaloo): One Night in Dodital

"These are the times that try men's souls."

Thomas Paine

Founding Father of the United States of America

The freezing winds pierce my jacket like one thousand stilettos, and snow gently falls to the earth from overcast grey skies. The shanty where we have built our waning fire is covered on three sides out of four, but even without the wind it is so cold that I shiver and cannot stop. We have positioned our shoes, socks, and feet near the fire in an effort to keep warm, and I am utterly failing in the attempt. A few meters away, water from the lake flows past in an unfrozen river that runs all the way back to Kuflon and beyond. The sun, blocked by clouds in the afternoon and then mountains in the evening, is neither seen nor felt, and as a starless night approaches we feel the cold to the very core of our bodies. As we roll out the heavy mat to cover the fourth wall, the inside of our fragile structure becomes pitch black, and whether my eyes are open or closed I see the same empty blackness, a perfect void absent of light. 

We spent the majority of the second day trekking, and by 3 pm we had made it to our final destination, Dodital, having walked around 14 kilometers that day alone. Minutes before we reached our lodging, a pitiful looking structure that would have matched the set of Slumdog Millionaire perfectly, it began to snow, and we rushed into the sad little shanty to warm ourselves over a small makeshift fire. Taking in my surroundings, I remarked to a fellow adventurer that I wished my dear Miss Chhatrapati Lukeji were there with me. Then, coming to my senses, I corrected myself, wishing that I instead were with her. M y fellow travelers and I could have been on a beach in Kerala drinking fruity, tropical drinks while watching a spectacular sunset. We could have been basking in the golden rays of the sun by day, and devouring delectable tangy desserts at open air cafes by night. Instead, we were huddled in a mass of five freezing adventurers on the floor of a shanty while a mild snowfall around us brought temperatures down to a level that could freeze the fires of hell. 

I dislike the cold. And by "dislike" I actually mean "hate." So laying there in the midst of my steadfast adventurers, I lamented the fact that I had freely given up my beloved tropical beaches for this icier, debilitatingly  chilling, snow-filled version of hell.  Oh, to have tasted a freshly opened imported beer, a paradise. Alas, such luxuries where not in the plan when I signed on to this endeavor, and that cold dark night in Dodital was a greater exercise in patience and fortitude that anything else this semester. But even during the night itself, when I awoke and bravely ventured alone into the night not once, not twice, but thrice, I saw the snowfall already disappearing, and the sky already beginning to clear. And an on-the-verge-of-throwing-a-temper-tantrum Chhatrapati Lukeji hoped, madly, that with the light of day he would see the death of billions of tiny snowflakes, and thenceforth march triumphantly home, a hero among men. 

The night passed, and despite the cold outside we were warm under our sleeping bags and the heavy blankets provided on site. And while it is true that that one particular night was a test of will, in retrospect it is precisely such nights that remind us of what we are capable. Though I like to complain, and though I enjoy making lame comparisons of myself to intrepid Spartan warriors/American revolutionaries, the truth is that these experiences are what we remember forty years from now as we look back on the younger versions ourselves. And though this is not the end of the story, I would like to humbly acknowledge and congratulate the members of my team. We are certainly not olympic caliber athletes, nor are we collectively even in good physical condition. But our journey was as real as it gets, and whether tiptoeing across snowy ridges where the snow blocked us from determining what was solid ground and what was a thousand meter fall into oblivion or climbing up 70 degree inclines with full backpacks, sleeping bags, and tents on our person, it was a journey that brought out a side of us that cannot be found in a classroom, or sitting in the cubicle at one's internship, or even sweating it out at the gym. It was a part of us that can only be found in the wild northwest, in India's mountainous frontier.