KINNAUR, 1980

SUDHIR SAHI

THE COMBINED occurrence of the hundredth anniversary of St Stephen's College, Delhi, and an exceptionally trying summer led to an attempt on Leo Pargial (22,280 ft)¹ this June 1980. The peak, along with its slightly lower twin Leo Pargial II stands astride the Indo-Tibet border, in Kinnaur district of Himachal Pradesh, very close to the great gap where the Sutlej enters India.

Our group, officially known as the St Stephen's College Centenary Expedition, consisted of seven Stephenians past and present. Leo Pargial was first climbed in 1933² by the venerable Marco Pallis who today is a sprightly ninety-two. But whereas Pallis came to Kinnaur via Nela Pass from Harsil in the Bhagirathi Valley, we travelled by blacktop road all the way to Yangthang — just two days from base camp.

On 28 May we drove to Simla. Adil and Bhattu followed on motorbike, the latter (alas) without his skis. One can never fail to be appalled by the vast slum that Simla has become. Without even a blade of grass in sight, the matchbox-like houses piled up one on top of the other, have an especially hideous character all their own. We were glad to leave early next morning. The cool crisp air heightened our spirits as we ascended to Narkanda with its incredibly fine view of snowcapped peaks. The heat and bustle of the plains was not far distant and we revelled in the bracing mountain freshness. Our breather was, however, shortlived: within fifty kilometres of Narkanda the Hindustan- Tibet road plummets sharply to the depths of the Sutlej at Rampur. Here at last we entered Kinnaur to look upon one of the pillars of the old trade route to Tibet. Modernity and tradition have produced in Rampur a curious mixture, stately wooden houses alongside monstrosities of brick and mortar. We lunched at Jeori, on Kinnauri plums and apricots and were soon heading towards Wangtu, the Inner Line checkpost. The heart of mountain country now began opening up to us as the Kailash peaks popped out one by one. There is so much one misses on a pukka road journey! In 1928 H. M. Glover toured round Kinnaur Kailash.³ He came down from China to the Sutlej which he crossed by pulley and was met by the Wazir of Poari 'dressed in full Bashahri costume and pancake hat, which reposed above his bobbed hair at a most rakish angle'. We did have glimpses of one or two such denizens during our brief stops at Tapri and Poari but they were bewildered relics of times swept aside by new roads and trucks and busses. And so to the pleasant woods of Karcham and the mouths of the gurgling Baspa.

There was now a great bend in the Sutlej as we continued up past Morang where the Zanskar range coming in from the northwest cuts off the monsoon. Predictably, the landscape changed in the most dramatic fashion. The deeper we went into the rain-shadow, the more closely drawn did the brown lines of the gorge become. Ascending into this arid vastness, we finally reached Pooh at 7 p.m. at the end of a 14 hour drive which had us glued to our windows. There was more to come. The two hours next morning to Yangthang, our roadhead, were the most breathtaking on our road journey past the thundering Spiti-Sutlej confluence at Khab and the spiralling loops of Kah.

Till 1975 the northernmost subdivision of Kinnaur was headquartered at Leo — prominent cluster of houses on the old trade route by the banks of the Spiti river 1000 ft below Yangthang. But the earthquake of 1975 flattened the administrative buildings. Today, that outpost is manned at Pooh while the tehsildar operates from Yangthang. We stopped here for two days to acclimatize as the altitude was well over 11,000 ft. One foray was made to Nako for generally working off steam and acquiring arrack.

Thus, feeling fairly fit and moderately plastered, we started from Yangthang on the trek to base camp in bright sunshine on what was surely the glorious first of June. The size of our party had increased with the addition of Mansingh — veteran of Guru's Leo Pargial ventures. We were to discover later that his real name was Tenzing Wangyal — the other one being a convenience for tongue-tied city slickers.

Our route lay past Nako — a lush oasis at 12,500 ft with an emerald lake reflecting the rocky Leo Pargial II which now pierced the eastern horizon. We bade goodbye to our arrack friends and strode through the verdant field of Nako taking a stony path to the chortens on the crest overlooking the village. The distant peaks of the Spiti and Baspa valleys could be seen. Right in front of us was the majestic fan-shaped Manirang while further down towards the southeast stood Kinnaur Kailash with its central gully a deep white gash. There is an alternate route to base camp, from Maling Dogri, slightly upstream of Yangthang. Some of the earlier expeditions had in fact taken that route. In the end we felt that the Nako route was the more convenient. Being slightly longer, it allowed a lengthier spell for acclimatization. Base camp for Leo Pargial is at 16,500 ft and the ascent of almost 5000 ft from Yangthang requires quick adaptation to altitude. We completed the climb to base camp in two days, perhaps a shade too swift, whereas three days would have been just about right.

We pitched our base camp tents on a rocky patch bordering a large snowfield. Here we rested for a day and reconnoitred above for a route to Camp 1 along the left bank of the Leo glacier. It was soon apparent that this route would be subject to stones peeling off in the noonday sun. Alternatively there was the uninviting prospect of pot- holing over the medial moraine of the glacier. We therefore made a second reconnaisance next day scrambling upto the ridge directly above base camp. From there a feasible traverse was clearly visible and this route was chosen. Camp 1 at 18,200 ft was pitched on a moraine hump at the confluence of the east and west glaciers emanating from the Leo Pargial peaks. Both glaciers are small in size and are dotted with a number of glacial pools.

On 6 June we made the first supply ferry to Camp 1 followed by another one the next day. At that point three members, the doctor and the two high altitude porter (HAPs) occupied Camp 1. The intention now was that this party would push through to Camp 2 on the top end of the west glacier and take a shot at the summit. Their achievement was substantial; one night at 19,700 ft and a sharp spurt the following day to the West Col at 20,200 ft. But the after effects of the rapid ascent, viz. exhaustion coupled with insufficient supplies at that time for six people, forced them to return and they were back in base camp on 8 June. The expedition was thus re-united once more with 9 June a day of rest.

We resumed the climb the next morning. The weather had been perfect so far but we had been bothered by Botha's and Princie's unrelenting indisposition. Besides, Amby now packed up and left for newer pastures in Bombay.

The second party of three members and two HAPs went up and occupied Camp 1 on 10 June. On 11 June the location of Camp 2 was raised to the West Col at 20,200 ft overlooking the Chango glacier. For anyone wishing to spend a mountain holiday attempting a dozen twenty thousanders from one base, the Chango basin seems ideal. There is additionally the possibility of some good ski runs.

The route to the summit follows the west skyline ridge immediately above the West Col and then swings east round the mountain. The first party had concluded from their high point that the summit day would include about 1300 ft of ice and with the resultant lengths of fixed rope. In the absence of ice-screws and rope lengths to that extent, the second party decided that a strong ice-climbing pair would belay each other up the ice pitches to the summit. Accordingly, Yousuf and Libdh Ram started up from Camp 2 on 12 June at 6 a.m. To their dismay they found barely 100 ft of ice followed by ever softening snow. Progress was therefore greatly hampered and front-pointing on crampons reduced to nought. By about 2 p.m. they were at 21,800 ft with 500 ft still to go for the summit. Snow conditions were deteriorating rapidly and they were sinking really deep into the steep soft slush. They felt that the time and effort required for the last lap would make their descent very tricky. Thus, still fit, they had no option but return. This side of the mountain faces the strong Tibetan sun and the pitiless rays mess up the slopes very quickly. Under the circumstances a third camp or a bivouac would have been necessary.

As luck would have it, for the first time, the weather packed up that afternoon. An enormous cloud bank engulfed the Spiti valley below and soon the swirling mists had swamped us in a whiteout. It snowed that whole night and into the early hours of 13 June. A further attempt on the peak now seemed unlikely without another layoff followed by a ferry. We reckoned that a good attempt had been made and not without rewards: grandstand view into distant Lahul, half a dozen peaks of Tibet sticking out behind the rim of the Chango basin,, the eternal Manirang and of course the Kinnaur Kailash. Most important of all we had been close to Leo Pargial, protector of the valleys of the Spiti-Sutlej divide.

We wound up and plodded through the soft snow back to base camp where we discerned some disappointment at the summit not being reached. But that perhaps is the paradox of mountain climbing. Exhilaration is heightened by simply being amidst the remote peaks. Yet so little can change that feeling of ecstasy to one of gloom. Nevertheless, good crusaders that we were, our summit neuroses soon dissolved and we ambled down, past juniper slopes now sprouting potentillas and purple thyme, content with our visit to one of the most spectacular parts of this land.

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