Spectre of Brocken

Nature has its own way of letting itself be, unaffected by us mortal's doings. Sometimes enough care is taken so that we do carry anything back from it, but only spectacular memories. Some events, when revisited, spur your imagination to think “Why was I not allowed to capture the moment to show it to others?” But such is the power of nature and such are some memories; very personal experiences, very vivid memories, images so strong that even after years they refuse to fade away even a wee bit.

I still feel the chill, still remember the panorama, see the sun break over the horizon behind a thick cluster of clouds, glistening up the tip of Mt. Khanchendzonga – the first of the 8000ers (there are 14 peaks in the world that stand above 8000mtrs) to grace the spectacle.

“Sir, Chai”, he says knocking at our doors holding out two steel cup full of freshly brewed chai and a bowl of popcorn. Popcorn! So early in the morning? Heck, what an idea! But who cares? I illuminate my digital watch, it reads 03:00 am. The date, 23rd May 2000. We zip out of our sleeping bags, initially reluctantly, but fire up immediately after the hot cup of chai. Setting out at 0315Hrs in the freezing cold is unacceptable. But we have taken so much efforts to be here, to see a spectacle unfold in front of our eyes. Through frosted ground we take about 45 minutes to get to the top as others too make their way up. We realise, that dawn there will not be more than a handful of us who will be privy to the drama of nature. Poor others sleepy souls, they will never see this!
The horizon lightens up slowly with a golden hue, anticipation rides high. A brilliant glow appears on the eastern horizon and with spontaneity the sun heads out for a new day. On the western horizon the gloomy, grey Khanchendzonga responds with equal enthusiasm transforming itself into a wonderful spectacle. The summit assumes a vermillion tinge, slowly changing into yellow and then golden. Early in the dawn, nature knows how to announce the best and the top!

All our fingers are on the shutter switch and we get into frenzy; absorbed in capturing every single moment, record the progress of the sun and the light as it progresses over all the summits, marching over the broad flanks of the mountains. We almost ignore the fact that this moment is for us to savour. We want to take this home to show others… some of whom may return here to take more shutters back for others to see. Now, the alternation of such a panorama between the view finder and real eyes seems like a fading idea. Maybe, if we had not taken our cameras, the real views would have embedded in our souls more strongly, that those pictures on the film tend to dilute our imagination today.

Little do we realise that, on our first visit here unguided by any advise or experience, we expose ourselves to shiver and frostbite. The thermometer reads minus 5. The views cast a warm blanket over us. It is so easy to ignore the chill and the waft against such a spectacle. I instantly knew I was hooked. Almost as a family, many summiteers here huddle and queue for a group photo, the warmth of the group extending to the hearts. Its been almost an hour that we stood there, changing views, films and cameras. Between the 2 of us we shoot 150 pics of this marvel. Everyone leaves.

We are the last to descend. Even our guide left for the chores of the day. It’s only two of us now slowly making our way down! The sun is lodged well behind our backs at a perfect angle. With the monsoons on its beck, the valley below is brimming with clouds, almost touching out feet. Elation draws upon us. The eye is still transfixed at the horizon panning across the snow clad massifs of the Goddess of Five Elements. We enter a tuft of cloud, thin enough, that we can see the path and the valley below, thick enough to caress our faces.

Suddenly our eyes catch the shadowy characters walking alongside us. It’s enigmatic. We trace the shadows back to our own feet. The sun behind has cast own shadows on the clouds below. We trace it up to an unbelievable sight. There is a rainbow that appears around our own shadow, a halo! We are ecstatic, ‘unbelievable’ we say! It’s heavenly! There are no words to describe the view, miracle and feeling. Are we on cloud nine, are we in seventh heaven? We don’t know. We pull out our cameras again.
Click….clack…clack. The film does not move. Oops! No film left. My friend clicks! Clack again! He is exhausted of film too. Do we have extra… frisk ourselves for more and return with a handful of retracted films in their cartridges - memories of dawn’s tryst imprisoned in a tiny dark cell, captured for all those dear friends back in the plains. We wished that there was at least one film that teased its tongue out! Or at least one shot left. Frustration!

This was the moment. We decide that we will stay till the sight does, not taking our eyes off even for the distraction of a shutterbug. We are no more disturbed, we are at peace with ourselves. We were our own gods for about 5 minutes till the clouds grew thinner again, exposing the thicket of juniper below. We move on, we wonder ‘why did this happen to us?’ We thought that for all our endurance and efforts, nature chose us minus our paraphernalia. The captured views were for the others; the experience our very own. Was it a coincidence? No, I believe. It was designed such by nature! Such is its power. That was our moment of glory.

We return back home. Everyone loves the pics; we have no way to describe what we experienced. “Maybe, if you go there, you will see it too.” We leave it at that.

Rrrrringg… “Hey my friend. How are you? Do you remember our shadows we saw in the clouds with a colourful halo around us, at Dzongri? It’s called the ‘Spectre of Brocken’”. I conclude!

Time after Time

There’s something about the Himalayas – once you’ve been there, you keep going back. It starts with a gentle tug at your soul at first and tugs on till the time you are overcome with this mad desire to leave everything just to be among the cold mountains. They say that you can’t go to the Himalayas till the mountains call you – that the journey plans you and not the other way round. For me the real journeys have been the four treks that I have done at high altitude….where you can be with the mountains up close and personal. My fifth call is yet to come and I am sorely missing every aspect of the journey…….


It starts from the time you tell your boss that you Have to take a 20 days break and he gives you the go-ahead. The list of things that needs to be carried is by now printed on your mind and with each passing day you strike off the things that you already have. One week prior to the d-day you write down the important things you need to buy. When you finally take out your backpack and put the first film roll in your camera, you know you are ready to go. The mind makes a quick check on the job, family and friends’ front tying up all loose ends. On the d-day the mind finally shuts itself tight…life in the city is forgotten and the journey takes over.

The journey to meet the rest of the group is done with growing anticipation and excitement. You meet the group and the instant bonhomie of like minded people makes you feel at home among strangers. When you reach the Himalayan destination - the base of your trek you fill in lungful of the fresh mountain air, feel the cold crisp air on your skin and slowly start to feel alive after a long long time. There’s a strange excitement on the first day of the trek. Everybody is quiet and quickly gets ready early in the morning. Initially you love the walk, slowly taking in the beauty around. By lunch you can only feel the tremendous pain in your legs. The second day you hobble on your still paining legs and curse yourself for coming for the trek. By the third day, the pain is still there but you do not feel it any longer and you keep walking…. till the time you reach ‘that’ point…where your heart starts to beat the rhythm of nature and life.

Then you know the reason why you came here and why you choose to come here every year…the peace and quiet, the snow covered mountains at an arm’s distance, the bone cutting cold winds, the mesmerizing silence, the freezing water which opens every nerve cell in your body, the tiny exquisite mountain flower, the bluest sky and the wispy clouds and the echoing calls of the birds high above.

Away from the city you finally realize what real beauty or life is. This is where you rid yourself of the false city skin and get in touch with you…the real you.

Standing Still - Time, You & Them

Right at the top of Nane Ghat hill, feeling the wind on my face, I smile to myself. A mirth that bubbles from inside erupts into a sudden guffaw and I look around to ensure nobody is watching me. The silliness of myself laughing alone amuses me further and I chortle with my laughter. It takes me quite a while to settle down following which I head to the shelter- a cave to join my friends. The time on my watch says 7.30 AM. What laughter clubs across the cities attempt to force within a person, I managed with ease sitting atop the hill all by myself.

All my city life, time has been the real taskmaster. In early childhood, mom would say-”Wake up! Time to get up! ”. At school, teacher would admonish “You are late; you better come in time”. As I grew up, my mind rebukes me with thoughts, like “If I am late, I will miss this bus (or miss that train)”. Again in my office, “Time Management Skill” is an important soft skill that any HR manager insists upon. Needless to say, the concerns and pressure related to time has always increased as one grew up. A constant battle to be ahead of time, takes the centre-stage in one’s life and one gets automatically programmed to be “rushed” mentally.

Belying this approach, the villager’s take on time is refreshing. In many a trek, when we approach the locals to confirm the time required to reach the destination, it is amusing to find that their concept of time is so different. Thus, one may hear the destination to be about 2 hours away and yet after walking that much another local will again convincingly project the destination to be another 2 hours further. For the villager the “two hours” represents an achievable target; a close-by destination that can be done in less than half a day rather than time calculated based on distance and average walking speeds.

Sitting atop the hill by myself, reflecting on contrasting lifestyles, I am amused by anomalies in my lifestyle. For the villagers, the sun represents the watch by which they tune their activities for the day. On reflection even we, coming from the city, also ultimately end up letting the sun determine our activities for the day during the trek. The watch becomes a mere representation of time and does not signify a threat. (In the city confines, the watch becomes a threat where the time display makes us feel short on time & very rushed).

The typical urbanite like me feels that sleeping till late in the morning is a luxury and should be done on a holiday or vacation. Yet here I am, on a holiday trip, awake by 6 AM & still feeling amazingly refreshed with no complaints. My mood would have been different had I been woken up at 6 AM in my house during a holiday! (grumpy me!). On a trek, living in the wild, the natural coolness and crispiness of the air combined with the lights of dawn makes one very contended to wake up without complaints in order to bask & feel the warm rays of sun massage every sinew of the body. Again, to hike further or explore (which happens in several trek), makes more sense during the wee hours of dawn. This way, one does not tire as much as one may feel while exploring in the afternoon with the sun beating down harshly. Likewise, in the evening, thanks to an encompassing darkness all-round, one ends up cooking early. Many-a-times eating dinner is an early affair (often as early as 7.30- 8 PM), followed by plain discussions until sleep time. (One might go for a tea or coffee in the night), Doctors have always recommended early dinner and plain rest before sleep which finds few takers in the hustle-bustle of a city. Yet, here in the trek, the body clock adjusts beautifully to the rising and setting of the sun accordingly as one retires early for the night automatically.

We often hear the adage “Time stands still”. The significance only hits us strongly when we are able to watch the sunshine or sunset peacefully. It is the direct contrast to the rushed feeling we are used to, that makes the passiveness of watching a sunrise or sunset even more striking. The peace within, comes from the temporary tuning of the body clock to the universal clock (represented by the sun) and ends up making a lasting impression. Now we know why sunrise and sunsets are so beautiful in the outdoors!

Prabalgad - Sayadris

There had been a storm warning declared in Bombay the day we visited Prabalgad two years ago; incessant heavy rain had caused flooding during the preceding days and even more rain was expected. As we left early in the morning, we looked at the grey overcast skies and felt like brave adventurers. “I may be a corporate slave chained to a desk from Monday to Friday, but just take a look at what daring death-defying deeds I attempt over the weekend !” One would think we were climbing Everest without oxygen or crossing the ocean in a coracle from the frissons of excitement running through some of us.

Thankfully, Prabalgad is a great trek and does not disappoint charged-up weekend trekkers. It has lush, green, refreshing vegetation – the number of trees and bushes and their varying shades of deep green somehow seem better than many of the other routes in the Sahayadris. There are hills playing hide-and-seek in the mist and streams to splash across on the route. As bonus points to your enthusiastic spirit, halfway up, there is a nice grassy meadow that makes a natural break-for-lunch spot. It is really picturesque as the center patch is grassy and surrounded by a perimeter of trees that sway gently in even a mild breeze.

The climb is pitched at just the right level of difficulty, it does not feel easy but is not too tough either - even a family with a kid did it. Best of all, the first 15 to 20 minutes walk is over a flat area, which gives sufficient time for all one’s muscles to stretch and limber up in preparation for the climb ahead. Given that it is a bit of a long and strenuous trek , such a beginning is a blessing. I definitely prefer such treks to ones, albeit easier climbs, where you begin climbing right at the start. The Prabalgad way, in the beginning, your enjoyment of the scenery and the surroundings is unhindered by panting or wondering when it will end and why you punish yourself like this on a regular basis. On the contrary, in Prabalgad you are raring to go and fully charged when the long climb begins.

Apart from the thicker, more lush vegetation and the conveniently arranged topography, there is definitely something else that is strange about Prabalgad – it’s the very atmosphere. It’s the only trek where five people among the group ended up with the soles of their shoes ripped off, and it isn’t even one of those treks that have uneven terrain and sharp rocks. It’s the only trek I have been on where we were accompanied by two local villagers who disturbed the peace and quiet with squabbles over the correct route throughout and held a diametrically opposite viewpoint on every twist and turn of the path. Not only was each obstinate about establishing that he, and only he, knew the correct path, they were resolute about ‘guiding’ us and refused to go away.

It is also is the only trek I have been on twice, but not made it to the top even once. The first time in Prabalgad, we got lost, came across a lovely waterfall in the afternoon and called a halt there. Away to one end, there was a kind of broad shelf where one could stand with the water pouring over – a lot of people washed their tiredness away by standing under the waterfall and getting a good back massage. The second time in Prabalgad we had almost reached the top, but the last bit of the path had been washed away due to incessant rain. Both times, however, we thoroughly enjoyed the trek and didn’t regret not completing it.

By,
Zen
(http://entropymuse.blogspot.com)

Joys of Hiking - Bonding Through Hiking

When I trekked for the first time my group was a size 19! i.e. myself & 18 strangers bound towards a common destination! It was a 3 nights 4 days trek to Vasota vide Sholapur train. By the end of the trek, we had exchanged each other’s name & numbers & continued to be in touch for almost 4-5 years! Today 15 years hence, at-least 3 from that group of 18 are dear to me and we are still in regular touch despite the changing priorities of life. As far as other members are concerned, if we do happen to bump into each other, there still exists a glow and warmth in recollecting the lovely time spent. Old smiles simply return. Nothing exemplifies human BONDING better than experiencing a trek together. It is my experience that during treks especially one that involves spending several nights together one ends up bonding on an inner level. Reasons for same could be several. I will run my theory here.

One reason is sharing of pains in reaching the peak. One has to undergo an arduous trek to reach the camping point for the night and every person realizes that the other person has also worked equally hard to reach that point. This brings an affinity and respect for the other individual that overcomes any other dislikes in individual traits. (Every other negative fades in face of this respect). You may only want to help fellow hikers to make it to the top no matter what your state of mind or body. Celebration is in the company and not self. With a trek there are no weakling, everyone who reaches the camping point is a winner whether he arrived first or last.

Another reason for bonding is that in the trek, the entire group is isolated from the society at large (especially in Himalayan treks). In short, you form a society of your own in the wild. This makes you a responsible group and an empowered individual where you sense the importance of your choices & the possible repercussion directly. You have the right to plunder nature or live in harmony with it. You make a deliberate & conscious choice of functioning in harmony with nature by adhering to regulations of cleanliness, avoiding pollution of all kinds and co-operating with each other to face the whims & wraths of nature. You need each other’s help and support to ensure safety and thus every person’s presence becomes relevant. Nature becomes your backbone and you automatically learn to respect it. Thus one feels helpless and powerful at the same time-helpless, every time nature’s fury in rains or snow forces group to be united; powerful, every time you contribute to the group co-operation movement (you realize the relevance & need of your contribution instinctively) or when as a group one is able to withstand the might of nature.

Another 2 reasons that I have identified is that as one treks, at an individual level one ends up knowing more about oneself. Hitherto unknown vista is opened and the individual feels alive and more vibrant. This state by itself has several reasons for it’s presence. At the primitive core, each human starts linking this sense of high to the presence of the company in which he or she arrived to that state. Hence a heightened state of bonding is the result.

Finally, while trekking and plodding with every passing day of trek each individual finds oneself unable to maintain the false composure that would otherwise be seen in the regular society. In other words, every person finds his or her idiosyncrasy exposed. Each person who finds out that he is still accepted by the group despite his or her exposed idiosyncrasies is unwittingly relieved at being accepted for what he or she actually is and not for what he or she normally projects in the society. Due to this acceptance, the bonding occurs at a deeper level which is felt at the instinctual level.

Bonding can happen anywhere and everywhere. Yet, it is really beautiful in a trek when one is in the lap of mother nature. The after-effect never ceases to bring a glow even when one is back in concrete confines of society.

Love, warmth and respect are earned mostly in trying and not necessarily in succeeding. Having learnt that, success is what others bring to you as long as you keep at it.