Knocking on heaven’s door

Achal Dhruva gives a blow by blow account of his ‘Himalayan Heights’ experience on the Mt Kinner Kailash Parikrama Trek

Sweeping vistas from Charang pass. pic: Sherwin Noronha

Straight in your face, the striking facade of Mt. Kinner Kailash (6050 metres), a towering mass of black and grey, capped with snow, bathed in soft golden reddish early morning glow, peeping through the mist, left me transfixed. I just couldn't tear my eyes from the mountain changing hues magically and spent almost the entire day staring at it in the company of my two trekking buddies and several pints of the local brew Rakshi. We had arrived at Kinner Camps, located at Kharogla (eight kms from Sangla, the main town of Kinnaur district in north eastern Himachal Pradesh) the previous night giving us no clue to our picturesque surroundings. Kinnaur is a dream destination, comprising of lush green valleys, orchards, forested slopes and towering mountains (ranging from 2,500 to 6,791 metres) with snow-clad peaks. We prepared for our 44 kilometres, six day Kinner Kailash Parikrama (circumambulation of the holy mountain) trek with day-long walks through the Baspa valley. The idea of putting up one’s feet and spending all the time around the camp was tempting but the mountain drew us like a magnet.

Day 1: Starting Trouble

Our trek kick-started a few hours behind schedule and it was almost evening when we completed the 50-odd kilometre bone-jarring ride from Kinner Camps through Karcham, Rekong Peo and Morang to Thangi, a small picturesque village, the starting point. After registering at the Indo Tibetan Border Police (ITBP) outpost and distributing the load amongst ourselves and the porters, we set off in a race against the fading light to cover at least three to four kilometres and find a suitable spot to pitch tents. A few kilometres out of Thangi, the broad dirt track, which we had been climbing, suddenly disappeared. We then descended about 300 feet on a goat track through a rock fall to hit the riverbed, our campsite for the night. Shiv Singh, our guide advised us to turn in early. The next day was going to be a long one and we had to make up for the lost time.

Day 2: The Long March

Kinner camp with view of Mt Kinner Kailash

We set off early for the 16-kilometre walk to Charang village. Our first pit stop was the ITBP camp at Lumbar, a tiny hamlet. After a cup of hot tea and small talk with a large family of Nepali workers chopping up a goat with the biggest kukris I have seen, we were on our way. Around 2 p.m. we reached Shurtingting, yet another ITBP camp, where we re-registered ourselves. Despite gnawing hunger pangs we gave lunch a miss and pushed on. Two kilometres ahead, the path entered a broad valley, surrounded by towering mountains, a few capped with snow. Charang was perched high on a ridge in the distance. We pitched tents on the edge of the cliff outside the village and had a 'starlight' dinner.

Day 3: Lost World

Hallelujah! A whole day to laze around. We had to get acclimatised at Charang, the last village on this side of the Indo-Tibet border and at more than 4,000 metres, the highest we had ever been to. The tiny hamlet almost merges with the stark landscape, except for the shiny golden dome of Rangrik monastery, two kilometres above the village. The lama took us around the shrine, considered the most sacred in Kinnaur and then gave us salted tea and blessings. It felt as if I had stumbled upon a lost world.

Day 4: First Pass

We set off at 8 a.m., our immediate target, Lalanti pass (approximately 15,000 feet), the first of the two on the trek. Progress was gradual and tedious with rests at intervals among chortens (rock-piles placed by pilgrims, a form of safety prayer). We were now at the mercy of the desolate mountain terrain. Chitkul, the next village, would only come at the end of our trek the next evening and the thought made me slightly nervous. In less than two hours we were on top of the pass, exhilarated by the sweeping valley views. Descending was however even more nail-biting. The path hugging the cliff face was just broad enough to keep your two feet together. To complicate things further long stretches are filled with scree (loose mud). After an heart stopping eternity, the path eased and we raced to the trekker's hut at Lalanti and pitched tents. It was our first night out at freezing temperatures and sleep was hard to come by.

Day 5: Base Camp

On the way to Charang village

Charang La base camp was about six kilometres away and the terrain turned into an endless boulder hopping exercise, sometimes across iced up streams, icicles sparkling like diamonds. By afternoon we reached campsite, at the base of the pass. Tent was pitched adjacent to a small pool of water. Once again we were treated to a stunning light and shadow play on the mountains by the receding daylight. The night was a shivering nightmare despite the thermal inner wears, two track pants, two sweaters and a jacket, gloves, monkey cap plus a good dose of 'medicine' (booze)!

Day 6: Knocking On Heaven’s Door

We arose to the sight of brooding hazy mountains and set off. After crossing several streams we were staring up at a steep and forbidding incline of nearly 600 feet. There was no path and we climbed through the glacial morraine, at times on all fours. The adrenaline took over at some point and all tiredness disappeared. But 100 meters short of the pass, altitude was taking its toll and I was left gasping badly. I had to take a long break. Gasping for breath in the rarefied air we reached the top and elation took over completely. We had made it to the pass, an elevation of 5242 metres. For miles around was a gallery of snow capped mountains, one towering above the other. I was knocking on heaven’s door.

We had some 'medicine' to celebrate our conquest and then began our descent, a straight sharp drop of nearly 3,000 feet. Yet another boulder-hopping exercise. After a while muscles in my leg began screaming in agony. We ran out of steam...and water too. All euphoria was wiped out till we reached a stream just above Chitkul village in the Baspa Valley and water never tasted sweeter.

We reached Chitkul village just as the sun was dipping over the mountains. However, returning to civilisation (we had not met a soul in two days) was a jolt to one's senses. The wait for the jeep at the village square in a small lodge teeming with tourists and blaring music was torture, especially after the silence of the mountains. It was not long before we were on our way back to Kinner Camps - home at last!