Friday, July 24, 2009

Wan to Bedni Bugyal and Patar Nachoni - endless grasslands ...


Click on the image to view picasa web album ...

Durga Prasad Bahadur, the cook in our porter gang proved to be an expert hand in the culinary art making me dump any concerns of not being able to eat from previous himalayan trek experiences. In fact I was of the opinion that just the salad he served before dinner simply beats everything the previous guys whisked up over many days. Next day we are to trek to Bedni Bugyal, a high altitude grass land that lies at a height of about 11000 ft. Bal Bahadur said we will start around eight in the morning for this six hour trek and wished us good night. I made a curious resolution to not look at the watch or attempt to know the time unless absolutely necessary and to deposit the watch in the backpack instead of wearing it. Curious this indeed is, as I, am a creature that wears a watch even while it sleeps.

My faith in Durga sab's cooking exploits reinforced with a yummy morning breakfast we started somewhere around the time Bal Bahadur intended us to start. Soon after taking the trail we were welcomed by the mirthful resonating chime of cowbells on the hillsides. Occasionally we crossed paths with the village dwellers venturing out to the fields or to graze cattle on a beautiful bright day. Alongside the trail I saw many pitcher plants, my first encounter with any carnivorous organism lacking the power of locomotion, nonetheless a passive variety that digests insects falling into its pitcher.


The killer pitcher plant ...


Couple of streams run across the trail but most of them have dried up due to lack of rains. The path gradually veers into deciduous forests on the hill slopes and stretches filled with evergreen Devadarus and towering pine trees. Lot of Rhododendron shrubs grew scattered on the way but sadly very few retaining the blossoms from an almost forgotten spring. I stopped often on this rather easy trail listening to the breeze rustling the dead leaves on the high canopy. At times when the wind picks up, a thousand leaves drizzle down from the skies immersing me in queer sensations of realms beyond the grasp of the written word. Realms of burnt ochre, memories of leafless falls, unicorns and apple trees and blossoms of spring descending on an autumn tree branch.

By afternoon we reached Doliya Dhar, a ridge marking the beginning of the grasslands. The green bugyals of Bedni were visible on the higher slopes dotted with an occasional cow or a mule. Villagers leave their mules and cattle over here for months in summer when grass is scarce in the valley. They will come to pick them up when it starts to rain. We leave the tree line in ascending to these grasslands. Shrubs give way to oceans of tiny flowers in assorted crayon colors. Cropped green grass, endless stretches of it, cover these rolling hills. They looked so green notwithstanding the continuing drought, thriving on the moist land wetted by the descending mist and fog in cold nights. I could only imagine what magic spells of charming green a touch of rain can cast over these splendid landscapes.


On the green meadows of Bedni ...


Our tents were erected at Bedni by late afternoon and Durga sab pandered us with tea, soup and snacks. Lazing on the grass beds I looked at the snow clad peaks of Trishul and Nandaghunti shrouded in thin cloud veils. Roopkund lies in the laps of the Trishul massif behind a rock strewn peak that looks like a perfect pyramid rising up in the sky. A mild evening sun warmed the meadows. I walked around the bugyal to Bedni kund,  a fairly large enclosure to retain rain water but which now lay barren and dry. The grass fields are split by deep ravines that looked like tectonic fault lines. Crossing one such gorge we climbed up a small hill for a better view of the snow peaks. On a vast green field beneath, a large herd of cows grazed lazily in an almost perceivable golden brown glow rendered by the sun who had started descending on the bugyals.

Darkness falls slowly in these late June days making us retire into the tents. In there the newcomers are introduced to the all engrossing card game of fifty six. This is just the first day among the many to come when we'll be blissfully lost in this addictive game deep into the nights. But only till Birendar announces dinner. Birendar is the frontend guy of the food department with a charming smile and a heartening manner. The high altitude and cold is getting in the way of people's eating capacities.  Durga sab, nontheless, continued to not disappoint. Coming out of the tents in the late night I saw Milky Way, the magnificent river of stars flowing between the horizons of a pitch dark night. I counted and this seems only the second time am seeing the Milky Way in such splendor on a clear moonless sky. Bedni was cold enough to make you shiver if you venture out in the night but cozily warm inside a sleeping bag.


Shrine on the bugyal ...


The sun has risen early, very early, I said to myself crawling out of the tent to a bright but misty morning the next day. Today we trek to Patar Nachoni - a place of huge collapsed rock boulders. Probably patar in this name does not mean stone but is the name of an old tribe of courtesans or royal dancers, but I could be wrong. This is the place where Raja Jasdhawal and his ill fated retinue spent the night centuries ago. Probably all night the royal courtesans sensuously gyrated to keep the king entertained. The sacrilegious performance incited Nanda Devi, the supreme mountain Goddess who commanded a violent hailstorm to descend upon the convoy as they passed through Roopkund the next day. Patar Nachoni is also about a six hour trek from Bedni during which one gains a thousand more feet of altitude.

The chula roti cooked on burning firewood tastes soft and yummy when taken as it is being made.  A hot cup of tea completes the ensemble, the warmth tingling my fingers through the mittens. We start somewhere around the same time as we started on the first day. The steep climb from the meadows of Bedni to the ridge trail leading to Patar Nachoni is a harsh breathing workout. Your lungs and body have to try hard to adjust to the higher altitudes and rarefied air. A more relaxed schedule should spend a day at Bedni for acclimatization. Once you climb on to the ridge trail the walk is easier, progressing through much slower gradients. The trail goes through vast grass covered mountain slopes and occasional streams of broken boulders. The winding path is visible for miles ahead. Its debatable whether that is a deterrent or something supposed to egg you on.


The Thrishul massif ...


We are walking around an imposing mountain to reach the other side. The pyramid shaped peak is closer and more clearly visible from here. We rested at the inflexion point of the ridges and had lunch. Time being a commodity available in plenty, we spent lot of it here tucking ourselves amidst the tall grass and gazed over the vast mountainscapes ahead. Here we shouted in to the huge valley, and heard the echoes last for a good few seconds. Even after your voice dies down, the echoes keep coming from far away mountainsides, caused by multiple reflections. Walking further, some steep cliffs tower over the trail dwarfing the minuscule human forms passing under them. The miles long trail continues, but now it is looking like a mirror reflection of the paths we left behind.

By late afternoon we reach Patar Nachoni and tents here go on a thick green meadow decked with a million of tiny flowers. Apparently the flowers are not fragrant but just have their brilliant colors and swarms of tiny bees floating over them falling for this luscious display. Getting water was problematic with all nearby streams running dry. There has been no rains yet. Rashtrapathiji is the main water gatherer of the porter gang, so known for his name coinciding with that of Nepal vice president Parmananda; He is also the oldest member of the gang. Water has to be brought from a stream running deep in the ravine, a good thirty minutes climb down and up. The stream flows down from the snow mountain and is kept alive by the melting snows above.


Tents on flowerbeds ...


The Kalu Vinayak ridge visible from here is the first milestone the next day. It tops off a steep 3000ft climb from where we are camping and from here almost the complete trail can be clearly seen winding up the grass laden mountain slopes. Towards the end the trail dwindles down to tight zig zags that exactly resemble a big hair pin stuck on to the flowing green mane of the mountain. Another small group from Mumbai is also camping here, consisting of a father, mother and their two sons. The father though retired is the most enthusiastic of them all, the mother wanting to brave nature's hurdles though she has had some ligament surgeries and the elder son the fittest in the group. As night falls it gets very cold here, and the game of fifty six can't go much deep into the night as tomorrow we have to start early . Tomorrow will be a ten hour trek of going up to Roopkund and coming back to the camp site at Patar Nachoni. After dinner, inside the sleeping bag, I touched down to levels of semi consciousness. As sleep engufled my thoughts I hoped Nanda Devi won't be considering playing cards as something sacrilegious and she would bless us with some good weather tomorrow.


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