MOUNTAINS OF KAGHAN, 1965

TREVOR BRAHAM

Kaghan is a playground and a training-ground, and near enough to civilization to give one a first-rate scramble in 15 or even 10 days ... In this way it is distinctly analogous to the Alps as they were, for one can always in 15 days arrive at peaks and passes of which no one knows anything . . .' So wrote General C. G. Bruce in 1910. His remarks are still valid today. Reading his book,1 it is evident that, though widely travelled in the Himalayas, he spent some of his most enjoyable days in this small and relatively minor valley.

The area, comprising approximately 1,500 sq. miles, is drained by the Kunhar River which has its source close under the Babusar Pass, 13,684 feet, in the north, and flows roughly southwards for 95 miles until it enters the Jhelum River near Muzaf- farabad. To the north of the valley, over the Babusar Pass, lies Chilas and the Gilgit Agency ; to the south, Abbottabad and the lower Hazara District. The great gorge of the Indus lies to the west, with the mountains of Swat and Indus Kohistan beyond. On the eastern fringe lies the territory of Jammu and Kashmir. A road through the valley, open to jeeps for about three months in the year, provides a direct link with Gilgit; and was the only access route in the days before the opening of the air service from Rawalpindi. The Babusar Pass, which is in regular use by animal caravans, is snowbound for most of the year and is often closed during the winter.

From the mountaineer's viewpoint the Kaghan Valley is still practically virgin country. Its peaks, though some are really attractive, do not possess the lure of high altitude; thus climbers, for better or worse, have passed the valley by. In the northern part of the valley it is possible to enjoy the jsort of climbing, in length, variety and character, that one would expect to get on an Alpine holiday. Every year, after the opening of the motor road in June, walkers, anglers, and campers frequent the lower part of the valley. There are forests of deodar, pine and fir ; alpine meadows, lakes ; and a plentiful supply of huts and rest-houses linking attractive pathways. The larger villages in the main valley possess most of the trappings of civilization. The trout fishing in the Kunhar River is justly claimed to be the finest in the subcontinent. The people of the valley, like all hill-folk, are cheerful and friendly. But they seem to lack the toughness and vigour of the Pathan tribesmen in the adjacent valleys to the west. Whilst they are good load-carriers, they appear to be less venturesome on snow ; though an introduction to technique may be all that is lacking. I found them honest and quite unspoilt.

Footnote

  1. Twenty Years in the Himalaya.' The Hon. C. G. Bruce. Edward Arnold, London, 1910.

 

There is an interesting description of the Kaghan Valley by J. B. P. Angwin3 of the Survey of India, who spent five months there in 1926 carrying out original triangulations in order to fix points for a subsequent topographical survey. Several stations were established between 13,500 feet and 15,500 feet, and the mapping of the area was completed during the next few seasons, resulting in the publication of Survey Sheets on a 1" scale. These are substantially the same maps in existence today and except for gaps in a few glaciated areas they are accurate and reliable. Lieut. Angwin, as he was then (later Lieut.-Col. Angwin, a Founder Member of the Club), hints at the possible development of ski-centres ; and certainly there are areas, both in the upper and central parts of the valley, eminently suitable where sport could be had from November up to April. The authorities have lately given some attention to the development of ski-resorts in Gilgit and Swat. A wider public response would, no doubt, lead to similar development here.

Footnote

  1. See H.J., Vol. IT, p. 48, et seq.

 

Like the Nepalese, the Pakistan Government decided that 1965 would be a sabbatical year for expeditions ; and, with two exceptions, all applications were turned down. It was a relief for once not to be personally involved in the idiosyncrasies of politics. With two-and-a-half weeks' leave, accessibility had to be the chief consideration in my choice of area. The Kaghan Valley was eminently accessible, being only a day's journey away by road from Lahore; whilst the only restriction on entry was the state of repair of the upper part of the road following exceptionally heavy and late winter snow-fall. I had chosen the earliest part of the season, mid-June, because this period is usually free of rainfall, whilst later a mild monsoon is active. Also in order to avoid the tourist season, which reaches its peak in August.

Sketch-map of Kaghan Valley

Sketch-map of Kaghan Valley

Sketch-map of the Head of Bashgal Valley

Sketch-map of the Head of Bashgal Valley

The highest mountain in the area is Mali-ka-Parbat, 17,356 feet, referred to by General Bruce as ‘the one real Kaghan giant . . . very rough and wicked-looking'. Bruce had paid six visits to the Kaghan Valley between the years 1890 and 1907, mainly to the Manur nullah south of Mali; and had also been on the glaciers to its west. On his last visit in 1907, accompanied by A. L. Mumm and the Swiss guide, Moritz Inderbinnen, Shikara Peak, 16,200 feet, situated at the head of the Shikara branch valley, was climbed. Gen. Bruce writes, ‘We had many good looks at Mali and saw several ways up, all quite easy to do when one is perfectly certain that one won't be called upon to try one of them.'3 Unable to find any record of the ascent of the mountain, I had cherished the innocent illusion that it was still unclimbed ; though suspecting that it was too accessible and worthy a prize to have been overlooked by British army officers of the 1920's and 1930's stationed near Abbottabad. Visiting Swat in early spring this year, I stood upon a high ridge south of Mankial and in faultless weather picked out the Kaghan mountains filling the horizon to the southeast with one ‘giant' dominating the scene, perfectly shaped and rising head and shoulders above the rest. Then I saw R. L. Holdsworth's article’, following which he was good enough to give me much additional information about Mali-ka-Parbat. He had been told by Gen. Bruce that the first ascent had been made by a Capt. Battye of a Gurkha Regiment some time in the late 1920's, roughly from its north side by an easy route, though it was not known whether by a ridge or a face. Holdsworth himself made two attempts on the mountain in 1936 and 1939, both by the S.-W. face, from a base camp by a prominent lake, Safr Muluk, situated at 10,500 feet, directly below the mountain. On his second attempt, starting from the lake, he climbed to within 500 feet of the summit. He had as companion two Gujars, and the ascent of almost 6,500 feet in one day was a fine effort. Two British officers, Lieut. Willoughby of the Highland Light Infantry and Lieut. Price of the 4/14th Punjab Regiment, made the second ascent of the mountain in 1940 by Holdsworth's route. They had to do a good deal of step-cutting on the steep upper slopes. Disillusionment following knowledge of two ascents did not render the mountain any less worthy as an objective; and I planned to visit Safr Muluk Lake, situated five miles above Naran which is one of the larger villages in the main valley. There is a legend that Safr Muluk is the home of a fairy princess who was banished to its depths by her father as punishment for marrying a mortal with whom she had fallen in love.

John Austin, a civil engineer working near Lahore on an Indus Basin Barrage project, accompanied me. He had some experience of rock-climbing in Britain ; and, though he had not done much snow and ice work, he seemed to pick up the technique easily. We met in Lahore late in the evening of June 16, and spent a couple of hours sorting and packing into boxes and kit-bags the food and kit from lists thrashed out in the course of a vigorous two-way correspondence during the preceding four weeks. At 5 a.m. the next morning we departed by car. With halts for breakfast at Rawalpindi and lunch at Abbottabad, we reached Balakot at the foot of the valley about 12 hours later, to be greeted by a fierce thunderstorm. The clouds lifted at sunset to reveal the dazzling white hogsback of Musa-ka-Musalla (the prayer mat of Moses), 13,374 feet, 12 miles away to the north-west.

We were told that we were lucky; for the Government-run jeep service, on which we were to rely for transport above this point, had opened the route to Naran only the day before. We were amongst the first travellers of the season. Only one-way traffic was allowed, and we were soon to appreciate why. The 35-mile journey took six hours. The worst moments came when negotiating three snow stretches, the vehicle slithering precariously near the edge whilst road-menders added logs, twigs and boulders to provide some traction under the wheels. There were terraced fields of rice and corn, some attractive pine forest; and, from Mahandri, a fine view of Shikara Peak, climbed in 1907 by Gen. Bruce's party. At Naran, we had the rest-house practically to ourselves ; attached is a canteen, a tea-room and a good camping- ground. The village, though small and rather scattered, contains a good provision store and several other facilities for tourists and anglers. In mid-June, there was a quiet and unspoilt charm about the place. Two weeks later, with an increase in the tourist population, the atmosphere had changed.

We had no difficulty in engaging the five porters required to carry our loads up to the lake ; and we set out in beautiful weather on June 19. A pleasant wooded path led us on to a stony hillside and then we found ourselves traversing long banks of snow on the opposite side of the river. The snow-line was at about 9,500 feet. The final bit was a 1,500-foot climb through steep pinewoods which brought us to a ridge overlooking Safr Muluk Lake. We decided to place our camp a half-mile above the lake, at a height of 10,750 feet. Three porters returned to Naran, and we retained two men, Abdul Rashid, young and keen, and Mar Wali Jan, older and more reliable, with a deeply reverent attitude towards the hills. The view was wintry. There was deep snow everywhere and the lake was frozen over ; a sharp wind was blowing, and this persisted in milder or severer form throughout the six days we spent there. We were told that in the summer jeeps often came up to the lake; but at this time no trace of the jeep road could be seen. A small rest-house by the lake was closed; and the bridge leading to it had collapsed. It was hard to visualize summer tourists boating and angling along these still and frozen shores ; and we thought of the fairy princess and her lonely winters. The valley, about three-quarters of a mile wide, seemed to form a typical glacier basin with the stream, sheathed in ice, draining into the lake from its source, the Safr Muluk Glacier, five miles to the south. A variety of peaks rose on either side, interspersed with numerous ridges and gullies. Those on the eastern side appeared more impressive with the highest of all, Mali-ka- Parbat, standing at the farthest end and not yet fully visible.

Mali-ka-parbat, 17,356 ft. seen from camp at 10,750 ft above Safr-Muluk lake

Mali-ka-parbat, 17,356 ft. seen from camp at 10,750 ft above Safr-Muluk lake

MALI-KA-PARBAT, WEST RIDGE EXTREME RIGHT LEADING DIAGONALLY LEFT TO FOOT OF FINAL SNOW FACE

MALI-KA-PARBAT, WEST RIDGE EXTREME RIGHT LEADING DIAGONALLY LEFT TO FOOT OF FINAL SNOW FACE

mali-ka-parbat, seen from 12 miles away on upper slopes of perspective peak

mali-ka-parbat, seen from 12 miles away on upper slopes of perspective peak

The next morning, June 20, with a training climb in mind, John Austin and I set out at 7 a.m. in cloudless weather for a mountain marked on the map as 14,717 feet, about four miles south-west of our camp ; Abdul Rashid came with us. Traversing the eastern shores of the lake, we reached the valley floor which was strewn with avalanche debris from the gullies on either side; we passed a small group of Gujar huts, completely snowed up and abandoned for the winter. Crossing over towards our ridge, we came across our first marmots diving in and out of their burrows under boulders in a state of great excitement. Standing fully outstretched with drooping forepaws they would stare indignantly for a few moments quite close before disappearing with loud shrieks. There seemed to be large colonies of them all over the upper snow-filled valleys, friendly, though mildly protesting; and it was all we could do to restrain Rashid's Frank Buck instincts. We struck a grassy patch at the bottom of the climb, and for the first 2,000 feet hardly had much contact with snow, striding above the deeply filled gully to our left. There were some glorious purple irises and mauve gentians ; and now and then a cuckoo's call would echo through the valley. We halted at 10.15 a.m. with a small snow cwm 800 feet above leading to the final ridge of our peak, perhaps 750 feet higher. John, suffering from the effects of food-poisoning, waited here whilst Rashid and I continued for another hour traversing steepening snow over- lying grass and boulders, which felt too insecure for comfort. We gave up 300 feet below the cwm. On the way down we entered the gully which provided 1,500 feet of good glissading down to the valley.

Perfect weather made the flight from Rawalpindi to Gilgit over the Babusar Pass a daily occurrence, and the aircraft became a familiar sight flying there in the morning and back in the afternoon. Still feeling unwell, John stayed in camp the next day whilst Rashid and I traversed above the lake on to a ridge rising steeply to the south-east. We were heading for a prominent snow dome of about 14,000 feet, situated on the mile-long ridge connecting Safr Muluk Peak, 15,935 feet, to Chakbarinar Sir, 15,123 feet. Our ridge rose between two gullies choked with avalanche debris, the one on the left very steep and seared by rock and stone falls. We ascended mostly on snow, but occasional grassy patches provided displays of irises, gentians, buttercups and a profusion of wild garlic with their tiny white flowers not unlike alyssum. We saw a flight of doves and a Ramchikor. There were some sheep droppings and tracks ; and the sharp-eyed Rashid claimed that he saw a herd of ibex, bemoaning the rifle that he had left behind at camp. After 3J hours, we found ourselves hardly more than 800 feet below the dome, but separated from it by a rock arete containing two prominent steps. The rock turned out to be of the worst kind, a wilderness of broken chips and splinters on which every foothold felt insecure. Having decided to call a halt, we proceeded to enjoy the view. Mali was quite out of sight behind the ridge above us ; but immediately behind our yesterday's 14,717-foot peak, which had obscured it from below, was Manur Peak, 15,115 feet, attractive and seemingly quite accessible with a little glacier of its own. On the way down Rashid, venturing unwisely across an icy patch, slipped and toppled over fetching up on some scree 50 feet below ; he managed, into the bargain, to break John's ice-axe, and he lay there crumpled, moaning faintly. I was relieved to find that he had nothing worse than an ankle-sprain; and, after a rest, he followed sheepishly down to camp, the sunshine having gone out of his day.

The wind blew up during the evening and resulted in a short* sharp storm. John had decided to recover properly in Naran, so while he descended the next day I moved up the valley with Mar Wali Jan. Walking up the snow-filled basin we passed Kach, a second and larger Gujar settlement, and found ourselves close under the western precipices of Mali. A ridge descends northwards from its summit to Safr Muluk Peak, some three miles long and bristling with pinnacles, domes and some finely- shaped peaks. To get on to Holdsworth's route on the S.-W. face, it was necessary to cross the West Ridge of Mali and descend into an upper basin at the foot of the face. At the point where the valley curves south-east towards the Safr Muluk Glacier, we began ascending the lower slopes of Mali towards its West Ridge. This itself looked easy at first but soon became severe, and ended at the final section below the summit, an 800-foot snow-slope on the south-west face at an angle of about 50 degrees. Approaching the West Ridge, we were baulked by a very steep gully-a matter of about 100 yards. Returning the following day with rope and crampons we made light work of the gully, and crossing a basin filled with ice debris 300 yards wide we gained the West Ridge and climbed to a prominent rocky point about 7501 feet up, 4J hours after leaving camp. The sky had been overcast all morning and the weather looked stormy to the south. I spotted Holdsworth's upper basin and examined the south-west face. What Holdsworth had described as 6 easy rock at first and then easy ice' leading towards the final section, struck me as a steep 4,000-foot face heavily plastered with snow and decidedly severe under the conditions. Mali was not for us ; not from here, anyway. A brief glance across the valley at a 14,000-foot pass leading over from the Manur Valley in the south, and we raced down to escape the storm that seemed to be imminent. On the way back we found the shattered remains, probably two or three weeks old, of an ibex, a fine old male, at the foot of a steep gully down which he must have crashed to his death. Thus disproving the reproach that the Kaghan Valley is gameless.

From Safr Muluk, Mali presents a curious appearance of unattractive bulk hemmed in by other mountains apparently of almost equal merit. I found it hard to reconcile this aspect of the peak with my glimpse of the towering and lonely mountain seen from Swat. The hint about the relatively easy approach from Burawai in the north led us round to that side. Above Naran there was no wheeled transport, and we had the valley to ourselves ; though there were signs of nomads commencing their summer migration to the upper pastures with caravans of sheep, goats, horses, donkeys, cows and even buffaloes. An easy march led us to Battakundi, a beautiful spot, where Sir Aurel Stein had found a secluded camp to write his memoirs. From the rest- house there was a view of a group of peaks which bore a striking resemblance to the great Peuterey Ridge on the N.-E. side of Mont Blanc. The next day, June 26, we reached Burawai, 10,000 feet, after a three-mile detour over a snow-bridge since both bridges across the tributary river were down.

Here, surrounded by glaciers and peaks, we were in different country. The rest-house, austere by Naran standards, provided a perfect base; and one got the feeling, seldom experienced in the Himalayas, of being installed in an Alpine Hut with the prospect of good climbing ahead. Twenty-three miles beyond, across isolated and bleak uplands, lay the Babusar Pass. We were rather confused over the position of Mali-ka-Parbat. Though supposing it to be approachable from this side, we suspected that we had greatly increased our distance from it. We set out to investigate the following morning by climbing a snow dome of 14,000 feet to the east. The climb was enjoyable but did not teach us much. We had an extensive view to the east of glaciers and peaks extending towards Kashmir, about 12 miles away. To the south was a group of mountains from 14,000 feet to 15,000 feet. But of Mali we could see no sign at all. Across the main valley to the north, we saw an attractive little glacier encircled by rock and snow summits, one of which, already seen from below, we had contemplated ever since arriving in Burawai. The farthest peak of the group now attracted us ; it was evidently a good bit higher.

The following day, June 28, John and I set out at 7 a.m., Mar Wali Jan accompanying us. Crossing the Kunhar River over a good bridge, we climbed a steep track to a magnificent alp 1,200 feet above. Two Gujar huts stood below the alp by a stream issuing from the glacier ; and on the slopes there was a profusion of daisies, forget-me-nots and verbena. Traversing the true right- hand side, mainly over snow, and climbing steadily until noon, we reached a steepening face at the foot of a Col leading to the summit ridge. A short halt for lunch ; whilst we examined some grotesquely enlarged marmot tracks ; and then on to the Col, the last few yards involving an exposed icy traverse. Here we left Mar Wali Jan who had been going excellently but now complained of incipient snow-blindness. A short stretch of thoroughly rotten rock led to the long final snow-slope. We reached the top of Perspective Peak at 2.15 p.m. and found ourselves on the outer rim of the Kunhar watershed. The existence of a survey station on a mountain across the glacier marked on the map as 16,100 feet seemed to confirm our estimated height of 16,500 feet for our peak. Beyond the lower groups to the west, sweeping down to the Indus gorge, lay the familiar mountains of Swat and Indus Kohistan. To the north-east stood the gigantic mass of Nanga Parbat, 25 miles away. Whilst behind, to the south, and separated from us by a system of glaciers and passes, there at last was Mali- ka-Parbat, about 12 miles away. There did not seem to be any obvious route from here; and we began to realize that the first ascent could only have been made from Battakundi via the Mahli or Chitta glaciers draining north-east. We reckoned that two days' glacier travel would be required to reach the mountain from Burawai.

That evening, we celebrated the climb with a huge spaghetti dinner and a tot of Drambuie, surreptitiously saved by John. Two days later, below Naran, we caught 12 rainbow trout in the Kunhar River. The crowds were just beginning to swarm up the valley on July 1 as we bade our final farewell to Balakot.

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