EXPEDITIONS AND NOTES

1. The Dunhuang Grottoes
2. In the Footsteps of the Faithful
3. Tarns between the Yeti and the Army
4. A Summary of the Badri-Kedar Crossings
5. A Small Blank on the Map
6. Trek to Kanasar Lake
7. Journey of a Pilgrim
8. Chungsakhago
9. Recalling Spiti, 1956
10. Indian-American-British 2009 Saser Kangri II Expedition
11. Kabru 1883, a Reassessment
12. Cho Oyu, The mountain beyond reach

 

 

 

Recently, I had the good fortune to go on a visit to China. I spent two days in Shanghai, and I was to go to Beijing, for meetings. I felt, however, that this was the standard itinerary of all Indian Government officials. I wanted to do something different, and to see some unknown part of this vast country, far away from Shanghai. Buddhism was taken long ago to China, by Chinese monks, and it flourished and expanded there, and beyond, with regular sustenance from the monks of Nalanda University, and other great teachers, from India. While it almost disappeared later in India, Buddhism was sustained in Tibet and China. They watered the plant of this great faith, with the teachings and scriptures which the monks had brought from India. The Silk Route, east to west, right up to Europe, from India, Iran and the Middle East is well known. I had read of a famous set of Buddhist caves, much like those in Ajanta and Ellora in central India, deep in the Gobi desert, far west of Beijing, in a place called Dunhuang.

Before going to Beijing, I decided to fly to Dunhuang. From Shanghai, we flew for many hours, westwards to the deserts. Very soon, we left the coastal green, and came to the sands below. Hour after hour, we flew west, and I was glued to the window, to see the great desert we were flying over. The dunes were mountains. I had never seen such high masses of sand. Occasionally, there was a green valley, sandwiched between the dunes. I wondered, how we would come to a habitable place.

Eventually, we came over flat lands, flew over some irrigated squares of agriculture, with summer crops, that we would know in India, and landed at a huge airfield, set on a sandy flat. As we went in to the town, I studied the crops on both sides. They had brought water, from the mountains nearby, and as in Rajasthan, the water created lush life. Poplars were widely planted. The city was obviously, a planned spacious grid. We were given a colourful welcome, by delightfully costumed girls. The China of Shanghai and Beijing, was very far away.

The next day we went to see the Grottoes. A wide straight highway, from the town, led us straight to the sand dunes, 5 km away. The sand mountains enclosed a small oasis lake, called the 'Moon Lake'. Tourists from around the world, were climbing the sand dunes, and sand skating down. Others were riding Central Asian double humped camels. Dunhuang and the Moon lake was the Oasis, for which the caravans from Kashgar and Khotan, steered themselves across the great desert, by readings of the stars. The Moon lake was survival. From there, they carried on eastwards to Lanzhou, Xian and beyond to the coast. It was but natural, that Dunhuang became a centre of Buddhist culture.

In the gravelly sand packed hills, caves were cut from about 400 AD, for many, many centuries, and a Buddhist establislunent came up. The message of the Buddha was made known to the east and the west. We went another kilometre to the hill face, to see the caves, which are now looked after very well by the authorities. The Mogao grottoes are about 735. There are many more nearby, in other hills, of the Mingsha mountains. These caves stretch 1680 metres from south to north along the cliff face. The Mogao caves commnenced with the monk Le Zun. The surviving caves today can be traced back to 430 AD. These caves originated from the Indian Chaitya caves. Three caves have large sculptures of the Buddha. The highest is 34.5 metres. This is second only to the great Buddha of Leshan, 71 metres high. These are large stone bodied and large stuccoed images. In one cave in an oblong chamber, rests a scuiphlre of the Sakyamuni in Nirvana.

The paintings are amazing, most of them are so carefully preserved, that you get complete scenes of the life of the monks, the Buddha jataka stories, even pictures of the rich donors. Indian monks and princes, who over the centuries, came and taught, and watered the plant of Buddhism, are all there in the murals and the curators are proud to point them out. The features, the dress and the scenes show the cherished link with India. Ajanta paintings are in granite caves. To paint on this less stable surface in Donhuang and somehow for the centuries to sustain it, is a miracle of the dry Gobi desert. There is no monsoon there. In later centuries the caves mountains were covered by the dune slopes.

In May 1900 Wang Yuanlu, a monk accidentally discovered the Library Cave no. 17. It was packed with manuscripts and silk paintings of centuries and centuries, somehow surviving. In March 1907 Auriel Stein, the famous English explorer, came on an expedition, persuaded the monk and took away 24 boxes of manuscripts and 5 boxes of silk paintings and textiles. He came again in 1914 and bought another 570 scrolls. In 1908, French man Pelliot came and numbered all the accessible caves, copied inscriptions and took photos. He too, took away part of the treasure. In 1910-11, Tachibana and Koichiro, from the Japanese Otani expedition, came and took away cart loads of manuscripts and even two sculptures. In 1914-15, the Russian explorer Oldenburg, came and collected 18,000 manuscripts and 100 silk paintings. He also cut off more than 10 pieces of murals as well as 10 sculptures. In 1924, American Landon Warner, cut off and took away 26 pieces murals as well as 2 sculptures. Finally in 1943, the establishment of a National Research Institute for Dunhuang, put an end to this vandalism. About two thirds of the manuscripts and paintings are in western countries, China' has the rest and today they are guarded and cared for with dedication.

In the desert heat, my wife and I spent a day going from cave to cave. Seeing our interest, the curators showed us everything they could. I appreciated the great love and care, being shown by the curators and the Director of the Academy, to preserve this world treasure and it came as an eye opener to me. People, specially Indians, must visit Dunhuang, see the great heritage of Buddhism and make it known to the Buddha's own land. Finally, the readers of the Himalayan Journal should remember, that simply climbing high peaks, is not the sole objective of our Himalayan Club. Climbing remains an important goal. But we are also committed to know the culture of all the mountains and surrounding desert people and spread it to our countrymen.

Note:

In spite of a large feature done by the New York Times some time ago, the caves are not hugely visited by tourists. They are incredibly important caves; the first on the route of Buddhism out of India! Tibet and therefore a real link to the art and the spread of Buddhist knowledge along the Silk Route. There are obvious references to be made with the cave painting tradition of Ajanta; however also very apparent are the different stages of development of Buddhist art and clear links with cave paintings in Leh, Tsaparang and Guge. (Savita Apte, Art historian specialising in south Asian Art.)

SUMMARY

A visit to the Dunhuang Grottoes on the Silk Route, China.

The author is past President of the Himalayan Club, Honorary Member and presently Minister of Sports and Youth Service in the Government of India.

 

 

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All over the world, rocks, mountains and springs have been attributed magical properties and constant reiteration of their powers by devout pilgrims has assured them a firm place in religion. Pemako, a region straddling the Indo-Tibetan border area is considered as the 'Promised Land of the Tibetan prophecy'. The Upper Siang district in Arunachal Pradesh is part of this region and has some pilgrim circuits which were extremely popular before the Indo-China conflict of 1962. Following the war, restrictions on cross-border movement has led to a gradual decline of these pilgrimage trails and many of them will soon be forgotten. The journey described here is a trek up the Yang Sang Chu valley, to retrace some of these trails and experience the magic of this' Promised Land'.

The trek started from Tuting, the last army outpost in the Siang valley. After few days of trekking in the valley we reached the last outpost at Singa. Nothing prepares you for Singa. It is a quaint mountain village with houses scattered over the sides of a bowl at the head of the valley. Wild mint growing all over and the ethnological mix of Adi, Memba, Khamba and Idu Mishmi add to its exotic allure. It could easily be in any other part of the Himalaya if one were to forget the dense forest and hard trail that one had to traverse to get here. Its remoteness is testified by the fact that sugar, spices and cooking oil are not available here and that salt costs Rs 80 per kilogram. There is helicopter service operated by Arunachal Heli services which lands once a week in good weather. Despite its remoteness, the people seem contented and fierce nationalism bums bright. An old man comes and hoists the national flag at the circle office every morning at 6 a.m. and then lowers it down at 4 p.m. The ceremony is solemn and the smart salute at the end is enough to make your heart burst with pride.¹

Singa is an excellent base from which to explore the surrounding mountains. A kora around Riwutala is perfonned by the locals in just two and a half days. But for plains people doing it in five days can be considered heroic. Descending from the helipad, going past the Singa gompa one reaches the bridge across the Yang Sang chu. This is the only time in the entire trip that one has to cross the river and the bridge offers interesting vistas of the river both upstream and downstream. From the bridge, there is a steep scramble of almost 300 m up a wet thickly forested hillside to reach a clearing halfway up. This takes about an hour and quarter of continuous effort. From the clearing the trail follows the ridgeline through subtropical forest for three more hours before reaching the wooden shelter called Asho camp (2476 m). When it is clear, you can see all the way to the fields of Tuting, with all the villages en route brown smudges in the verdant undulating landscape. The snow covered brown Tibetan plateau fonns a contrasting backdrop. Water for the Camp 1s brought down from a mountain spring by a hose pipe. In early November, the water was down to a trickle. The next day's walk is long and tedious. It could be broken into two but for the fact that it is entirely on the ridgeline with precipitous falls on both sides and no water. We left Asho camp at 07.00 a.m. and reached Dhoti Phukpa (3540 m) at 6.30 in the evening in bone-chilling rain and total darkness. The trek is for the very brave or foolish. Steep descents and sharp climbs, scrambling along bare rock faces, teetering on a narrow trail just 8 inches wide and not daring to look up from the foot in front of you, the adrenaline rush leaves you drained out completely. But the views and play of sunlight and clouds on the hillsides makes it bearable. A sudden change to fir and pine trees followed by just golden brown brush makes for a startling change in vegetation with altitude. Dhoti Phukpa is just a rock overhang across the Yame chu which flows down from Riwutala. The rock overhang is habitable because of a sweet spring and corrugated iron sheets carried up by devout pilgrims that cut off the wind and make the place cosy. The next morning was grey and forebode bad weather. Yame chu had frozen overnight and was silent with water gliding under a sheet glass of ice. It takes forty minutes to go from Dhoti Phukpa to the base of Riwutala (3507 m)) from where the parikrama begins. The trail on the right side of the mountain is marked by prayer flags. One has to crane upwards to see the top of this solitary mountain with a thumb-like pinnacle on the top. The vertical faces, pock marked by snow and strong wind immediately evoke respect. The first leg of the parikrama is a gentle climb but there are two narrow rock ledges on the way. Just behind the peak is the first of the many spell-binding lakes probably gouged out by glaciations many millennia ago. The lake has crystal clear water and reflects the peak, the blue sky and the scurrying clouds. It is called Yongchap tso with reference to the bowls of water placed before the deities in any Buddhist temple. Pilgrims can pay obeisance to the mountain god at a small shrine on the bank of the lake. This is also the place to reflect on the wonders of nature. Pilgrims fill up bottles of water here to take back to their families. A little further ahead is Singham tso. This lake is in a cwm 30 m below the trail. Its emerald green waters glint darkly giving it a Loch Nessy¹ air. From the high ground, the distant valleys, windswept alpine meadows, calm reflecting pools with snow flecks reminding you that winter is almost there and the silent towering peak contribute to the sense of enchantment which draws pilgrims to this remote place. Just behind the left shoulder of the mountain is Doking tso, the largest glacial lake in this circuit. The lake is long with jagged stony cliffs encircling it. The harsh reflection of the snow covered peaks in its dark waters is in sharp contrast to the idyllic scenelY of sometime ago. The duality of nature is thus perfectly reflected on the walk around the mountain. The trail touches one end of the lake and then nms along its left side before ascending to the left shoulder of the peak. After traversing some rocky scree you reach a high col. From here the trail descends sharply to the starting point in the Yame valley. The whole kora takes six and a half hours. The arduous trek back to Asho camp and then to Singa was marked by dark overcast skies and a cold wind rifling the nape of the neck. Fortunately, the weather held till we returned to Singa.

And then, the rainfall in the valley and snowfall on the mountains began. Exploration of the other two holy places in the valley, Pema Siri and Teetapuri, had to be put off for another season. However, enough karma had been accrued for the present. We were fortunate to get a helicopter back to Dibrugarh the very next day. Back in the hurly-burly of civilization, the magic of Riwutala seems even greater.

SUMMARY

A trek to the Yang Sang chu valley, Anlllachal Pradesh and kora of high and remote Riwutala pilgrim site.

 

 

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Two days before I was to leave Bangalore for Arunachal Pradesh, with all arrangements made to do the month long Upper and Lower Pemako trek in the Upper Siang district of Arunachal Pradesh in the relatively unknown northeast Indian Himalaya, I got a call from my tour operator with the dreadful news that there was heavy snowfall in that region and that my trek would not happen. Sensing my tone of disappointment, he suggested that I do something called the 'Nagagigi' trek instead, at least that was what it sounded then. With little choice, I accepted the inevitable. In Arunachal, I soon realised, one had to take each day at a time.

Day 1: 20 October:
Rama camp (1975 m) to Lubrang village (2835 m)

My entourage consisted of my guide Dorji Tashi, a college student, Ketong Tashi the general help, Tashi Leta the cook and horseman with one horse named Rakpa and Tashi Phuntso, the headman of Lubrang village who had made all my trek arrangements. All the four were related and ethnically belonged to the Monpa sect. We left Rama camp which is about 5 krn by road, north of Dirang, a small town in the West Kameng district of Arunachal Pradesh. Leaving the highway, we soon turned left onto the village path which ascended gently for a while till we came to a chorten. After this it wound its way steeply through the forest, ascending in a south westerly direction over a series of switchbacks. After about every hour or so, we came across patches of pasture amidst the forest.

After about three and a halfhours of steady ascent, the forest thinned out, making way for bald pastures. Prayer flags soon appeared and after exactly four hours we were at Lubrang, a picturesque, pastoral village, surrounded by hills and inhabited mainly by Monpas. We camped at Dorji's house. After dinner, with Buddha's all seeing eyes watching over me from the altar, I drifted swiftly into deep sleep. It was not often that I climbed 1220 m in four hours!

Day 2: 21 October:
Lubrang village (2835 m) Naga GG camp (3585 m)

From Lubrang, we ascended in a south westerly direction. This stretch is known for its variety of rhododendrons, although at this time of the year it was well past the flowering season. Leta seemed relieved that I was not one of those botanists who would stop for hours at every tree! After about two hours of gentle climbing, we reached a herder's shed. Such wood and stone shelters are found all over this region. Beyond this, for about an hour we climbed steeply on a narrow path through a dense moss covered rhododendron forest to 3350 m.

The steep ascent eased out as we approached a broad track. What followed was a stretch of trail through an apology of a pine forest that had more burnt and hacked stumps than forest. We soon intercepted the road coming from Dirang to the army camp at 'Nagagigi' and continued to ascend gently taking many shortcuts through the forest to avoid the dusty road. At around 2 p.m., at 3570 m, we came across a red board that said 'Border Outpost, Sashastra Seema Bal, Naga GG!' The 'gigi' mystery thus unfolded as I gathered later from the Net that GG meant 'Grazing Ground'! I later realised that the Arunachalis are adepts at abbreviations, probably influenced by those followed by the Indian Army. It took me a while to find out that the popular tourist spots like P.T Tso is Pankang Thang Tso, BlN Gompa is Bangajang Gompa and YlN near Bum la is Y Junction and so on. As we walked past the camp, the army personnel there looked at me in surprise. One officer asked me if I was from some NGO. When I told him that I had come on my own all the way from Bangalore solely to trek in the area, he was flabbergasted. 'Arre, why do you want to come to a place like this, madam', he implored. 'Why can't you go to Gujarat or Rajasthan?' A short distance beyond the anny camp we came to our campsite which was a desolate shed at 3590 m located in the swampy grazing ground with a backdrop of pine trees and a spring nearby. It was 3 p.m. The sun here sets at 4.30 p.m. and it is pitch dark by 5 p.m.

Day 3: 22 October:
Naga GG camp (3590 m) to base of Dongchingpo la (3992 m)

The trail climbed northwards for about an hour and half above the campsite through pine and rhododendron forests. Soon it joined the dusty road coming from the Naga GG camp and shortly we came across a tri junction with some prayer flags and a chorten that marked the Yamayakchung la, a pass at 3962 m. We spent a leisurely two hours here over a lunch of 'two minute' Maggi noodles and tea! Continuing on the road, in about an hour's time we reached Dongchingpo la marked by prayer flags and some cairns. Below this pass was a wide pasture with a couple of sheds, in one of which we camped. We were supposed to camp further ahead at Sangya that night, but we heard that there were already some herders there.

Day 4: 23 October: Base of Dongchingpo la (3992 m) to Sangya (3890 m) to Chomjuk (4045 m)

Morning dawned bright and clear. On the eastern horizon was the Gorichen group of peaks, the highest in the Arunachal Himalayan range situated on the Indian-Tibet border. We headed northwest towards a pine forest with the trail and the rough road merging on and off. The road then took a series of zigzag bends and descended steeply, heading in a north easterly direction, while we headed west on a trail. It felt good to finally be rid of the road, at least for the next few days. If not for the necessary acclimatisation, one could take a vehicle from Dirang all the way up to this point and then start the trek. In about half an hour we passed the shed at Sangya located amidst a large grazing pasture. Beyond were the colorful ranges of Bhutan although we were still on the Indian side of the border. The hills were ablaze with bright red heather bushes and the entire landscape was a great visual treat. The trail contoured along a ridge line. On our right the views of the distant orichen range enthralled us for quite a while and on our left, dense forests of pine, juniper and rhododendron dominated the valley.

As we traversed, delighting in the vistas unfolding around us, after a couple of hours we came across a cairn at 5000 m. Beyond this was a three foot wall of stones piled roughly atop one another running across the trail from the top of the ridge till down in the valley. This was the Indo-Bhutan border. A large smooth round stone was embedded in this wall near the path with the words BHUTAN and INDIA engraved on either side. The simplicity of that stone wall had me hoping that some day all our international borders would reach this level of tranquility. We were now officially in Trashigang, the easternmost district of Bhutan. The contrast was striking, with the serene Bhutanese side lush with forests and completely devoid of human activity. while on the other hand, the Indian side was riddled with road construction activities.

Further ahead, the trail switch backed gently through the forest and in about an hour past the border, we came to a herder's shed at a place called lobur. We met some Brokpas of Bhutan who resemble the Monpas of Arunachal in their attire and lifestyle. The trail then descended steeply to the colourful valley floor that had streams rulming in all directions. It then climbed out of the valley to reach a swampy pasture with small hillocks surrounding it. Scrambling over one of them, we reached Chomjuk, a broad pasture ground at 4045 m that was marked by a vertical prayer flag on a hillock, close to which was a single shed that was our campsite. It was a satisfying four hour trek and we had great views of the Gorichen group of peaks from here too. There was a serene lake behind our campsite. We were to halt here the next day too.

Day 5: 24 October: Chomjuk to Orka lake to Orka la (4072 m) to Sakteng viewpoint.to Chomjuk

Dorji, Ketong and I left for the holy Orka lake, heading further westwards, and in about forty-five minutes we came to the secluded, serene crystal like lake which was one of the many glacial lakes embosomed in the ranges of this region. Encircled by hillocks with rhododendron, the waters turned different shades of blue, green and grey depending on the angle you saw it from. Above the lake past a rough trail were some cairns marking the Orka la after which the path descended gently. In the distance, deep down in the valley we could faintly spot Sakteng, one of the easternmost villages in Trashigang. After about fifteen minutes, We took a deviation to the right and climbed on to a prominent spur that gave a bird's eye view of the valley below. We were actually in the Sakleng Wildlife Sanctuary. With an area of about 650 Sq. km, it was one of the new protected areas that had been identified in the year 2002. The two taluks ofMerak and Sakteng under Trashigang district fell under this Sanctuary. It was specially created to protect the habitat of the still-elusive 'yeti'! We were back in Chomjuk by lunch time.

Over dinner, Leta told me about how beautiful the Bangajang hill was with its various lakes and sacred spots. I was so impressed that I decided to cut short my trek by a day to spend a day at Bangajang. Instead of going from Chomjuk to Sugang (3870 m) crossing the two passes Bukchung la (3992 m) and Gyapchung la (4054 m), followed by another day's trek from Sugang to Bangajang crossing the Luguthem pass (3720 m) and Jangachem la (3962 m) we would directly go from Chomjuk to Bangajang, crossing the border once again in a single day.

Day 6: 25 October: Chomjuk (4045 m) to Bangajang (4024 m)

We left Chomjuk at 7.15 a.m., heading eastwards along the banks of the lake (which I shall call Tarn # 1) behind our campsite. Ascending gently we skirted an adjacent lake (Tarn # 2), on whose banks was a chorten, a series of vertical prayer flags and a couple of dilapidated herder's sheds. The trail then veered northwest and we climbed over a ridge out of the shallow valley, where we came upon the third tam (Tarn #3). A steep ascent across golden rolling pastures streaked with the blood red heather followed. Around 8.45 a.m., some cairns heralded the Phurkukpa la at 4145 m. From here we could see the high snowcapped ranges beyond Sela pass. We descended into another rocky valley, followed by.an ascent to another ridge at whose crest we saw another valley, our third for the day, sprawled out below us.

A tangle of rhododendron covered the slopes as the trail descended on a boulder strewn path. Soon Tarn # 4, set like a turquoise jewel amidst the rhododendron showed up. When we reached the valley floor, a riot of colors bedazzled us in the fornl of a green lake (Tarn #5), thick with algal blooms and surrounded by red heather and yellowish green moss. Past its marshy banks, came a fork in the trail. We took the one to the right which climbed gently through stands of pine until wecame across a narrow stream. A steep ascent from here brought us to a herder's shed on a pasture ground beyond which more switchbacks were in store. Bailing me out of my hunger pangs was the next lake (Tarn #6). Augmented by the colorful crimson autumn foliage, this one was surreal and the most stunning of all the tams that I had seen since morning. The ascent gave way to a flat traverse just as I saw a vertical prayer flag at the crest of the ridgeline. The deceptive traverse soon descended into the fourth valley which was also blanketed with rhododendron and had another bewitching lake (Tarn # 7).

Hopping along the boulder strewn path, we came to another fork. Taking the one on the right again, we climbed steeply, abruptly coming across another azure lake (Tarn # 8) at the next tum. The steep trail then suddenly flattened out across a large pasture ground with some cairns that marked the pass Fongkarpa la at 4220 m. It was I p.m. We climbed a little higher to about 4240 m, from where I could clearly see the scratch like scar on the ranges beyond. This was the road leading to Bangajang from NAGA GG. One last descent brought us to another stone wall that demarcated the Bhutan-India border. A small lake (Tarn #9) on the Indian side completed the cache of nine tams witnessed since morning. I was truly blessed to see them in the right season. In their dull winter hues of white and grey they would not measure upeven remotely to their fabulous autumn colors. Past the border, the trail descended finally onto the road at 1.30 p.m. where another lake (Tarn #10) welcomed us. Six hours of almost continuous trekking, ascending and descending across four valleys took its toll on all of us except Leta who had a fire crackling within minutes for lunch. It was a two hour trek on the dusty road from our lunch point along which were three more lakes (Tarn # 11, 12, 13) before we reached Bangajang (4023 m) at 4.15 p.m. As it was getting dark, all of us were in a rush to get to one of the many log huts around Bangajang and set up camp.

Day 7: 26 October: At Bangajang (4023 m)

The Bangajang hill and the Gompa, situated midway up the hill have been a pilgrimage destination to the Bhutanese and the Arunachalis, especially the Tibetan and Monpas sects since hundreds of years. It is said that there are 108 sacred glacial lakes around here. At sunrise, the blue black hill transfonned into a stunning, flaming red, thanks to those red heather bushes. A prayer flag adorned the highest point. Many pilgrims were also there, all in their traditional attire. The lama of the Gompa led us first on a tour along the kora path running along the southern face of the hill. As we ascended, four tiny lakes (Tarns # 14, 15, 16 & 17) were visible at the foot of the hill. At each of the various sacred spots the Lama spoke of their significance and the pilgrims would either do a kora, prostrate, chant or paste a colored paper streamer onto the object with a bit of butter. The paper streamers of the Monpas are akin to the prayer flags of the Tibetans.

After the kora on the south face, we headed to the northem side to follow another kora path. That route was steeper and involved small ascents and descents. It was also exceptionally remote and stunning with numerous crystal lakes (Tarns # 18, 19, 20, 21) embedded in the hollows of the hillside, lush with rhododendron and heather. Of these, Tarn # 18, normally referred to as the Bangajang lake was the holiest as was evident with all the prayer flags and streamers strung around it. After four hours on the kora path, the lama said that he had to go back to the Gompa for his other duties. We had but seen only a small portion of the hill and there were many more holy spots yet to be seen. We had also not reached the summit, from where the views would probably be extraordinary. It would probably require another day to cover the entire hill but I decided that I had to move on. A six to seven hour trek route from here right down to the town of lang (23S0 m) exists and I was sure that there would be a lot more tams on that route.

Day 8: 27 October: Bangajang (4023 m) to Sela pass (4175 m)

We left Bangajang at 6.30 a.m. and took many shortcuts over the ranges to avoid the road. Sela pass was 22 krn by road. We saw three more lakes en route (Tarns # 22, 23 and 24) as the road climbed up to a pass Chebra la at 4175 m after which it was more or less flat. As we were approaching Sela pass we saw the familiar massive cloud of mist rising up from the valley deep below. At 10 a.m. when we were about six or seven kilometres short of the Sela pass, we saw Tashi Phuntso with his car waiting for us. The trek was over as we drove back to Dirang.

In conclusion, I have to say that my trek on the remote herder's trail between the Indian Anny and the Bhutanese Yeti has added to the repertoire of Nature's wonders that I have witnessed. The images of those twenty five odd shimmering tams in various hues of aquamarine and azure amidst the red autumn foliage are indelible.

SUMMARY

A trek on the India-Bhutan border in the West Kameng valley of Arunachal Pradesh.

 

 

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The main Kedarnath temple at 11,500 ft (3505 m) is only 38 kilometres west of Badrinath at 10,500 ft (3200 m) and the beetling intervening crest line never falls below 16,000 ft (4880 m). From 1998 to mid-2009, at least five crossings of the Badrinath-Kedarnath divide have been reported. Since four of the five crossings have been accomplished by club members from Bengal, there may be reports of further crossings that have yet to be translated.

Four crossings have been made from the Badri (eastern) side and one from the Kedar (western). Three of the routes from Badri have been different: (a) once via the Satopanth glacier and Gandharpongi valley (b) twice via Khiraon, Panpatia glacier and Madhmaheshwar and (c) once via the Rishi ganga valley, upper Panpatia glacier and Madhmaheshwar. From Kedar only the Panpatia khal (Parvati col) to the Satopanth glacier route has so far proved successful. Four routes from the Kedar side remain uncrossed: (a) from the main temple via the Gandharpongi valley and the Satopanth glacier (b) from the main temple via the Gandharpongi valley, Panpatia glacier and Khiraon (c) from the Madhmaheshwar temple via the Panpatia glacier and Khiraon (d) from Madhmaheshwar via upper Panpatia and Rishi ganga. When it comes to walking across untested terrain, a hill man shares Euclid's conviction about the shortest distance between two points. He is an inveterate taker of short cuts and while it is true that the names associated with the crossing of the Sadri-Kedar divide do not include Paharis in the headlines, the fact is they are there in back up roles as this article seeks to record. For example without the administrative initiative of C.S. Pandey who made the arrangements for the first successful complete crossing by Martin Moran (by converting the latter's quest into a joint Indo-British expedition), there would have been no question of entering the area let alone crossing the divide.

Martin Moran and party in 1998 won the distinction of completing the first recorded Badri-Kedar crossing, sixty four years after Shipton, Tilman, Ang Tharkay, Pasang and Kusang first attempted it but technically fell short of their intended goal of Kedarnath main temple.

Martin Moran's account 'Shipton's Lost Valley' (HJ Vol. 55), is followed immediately by the 'Observations and Botanical Notes' of John Shipton, son of the great explorer who joined as the expedition botanist. Their articles make for a study in contrasts. In his book Sacred Waters (2001) Stephen Alter who had spent nearly a year covering the old pilgrim trails on foot (walking some 600 kilometres) records this difference in motivation between the mountain walker and professional mountaineer. The first appears to approach consciously in hannony with nature and seeking to understand her mysteries; the second prepares to confront nature ifneed be and subdue her.

Martin in breaking new ground thus gives precedence to the nuts, bolts and screws that get them off the icefall along with the echoed agonies of biting shoulder straps from humped loads over a never ending series of ridges. After eight days of masochistic floundering they arrive at the main Kedarnath temple, bedraggled exemplars of Freud's punitive psyche. John Shipton meanwhile displays Freud's alternative narcissistic psyche by delighting in the flowers and animals found on the Elysian bugials. He even mentions the butterflies, a subject too flighty for most expedition reports.

His eye for harmony serves to remind the reader of the startling difference between the two famous shrines. Kedarnath main temple (like the smaller Madhmaheshwar shrine) is in an uplifting setting whose solid stone is splendidly sited on emerald meadows before the snowy ramparts. By contrast Badrinath' s situation in an open denuded valley and accessible by bus is redeemed neither by attendant peaks nor architectural inspiration. Instead of being the climax of his marathon pilgrimage Alter describes it as drab, uninspiring and mercenary.

John gamely starts from Badri over the Satopanth glacier, sees the ice fall at the crest and sensibly backtracks to take the bus round to Kalimath where his father had emerged from the Gandharpongi or deal in 1934. Being under no constraints for food or time his low level trekking party ambles in to Kedarnath only one hour before Moran's exhausted and hungry explorers, of whom Sobat Singh Rana was the lone Pahari representative. To Sobat would go the credit for repeating the crossing via the Madhamheshwar valley route two years later. Extraordinarily features described by Eric Shipton's party were easily identified two generations later by Martin Moran's.

It is ironical that Eric Shipton's first contact with human habitation after the excruciating descent through the Gandharpongi jungle has lent to the village of Gaundhar (at least to foreign readers) nightmarish associations. To the Indian pilgrim however this confluence of the Markandya and Madhmaheshwar Gangas marks the beginning of a magical ascent to Madhmaheshwar, the second (some would argue fourth) Kedar temple via the village of Bantoli. Anyone who has stood before the exalted ramparts of Chaukhamba viewed across the void from Kanchni tal regards this spectacle as the ultimate vision of mountain grandeur.

The scenery is so stunning that several mountain lovers including the Bengali litterateur Uma Prasad Mookherjee and the editor Kamal K. Guha contributed to the construction of a mountain hut at Bantoli. (Guha's mountaineering monthly Himavanta is a useful source for detailed infonnation on the crossings.)The fact that this region has been most glowingly described by the great Sanskrit poet Kalidas has led some to suppose he may have had local connections. Sadly Alter reports that in recent years this Mandakini catchment area has been severely damaged by land slides.

Moran pertinently questions whether Shipton had got it wrong in assuming there were no human traces higher up the nightmare valley and suggests poor visibility was probably to blame. But he does not question why Shipton's party should have strayed west from the Satopanth divide into an impenetrable jungle when by moving east they could have descended over comparatively easier ground to Madhmaheshwar. Prabhat Kumar Ganguli the doyen of investigators into the feasibility of the crossing myth suggests the early Survey maps were faulty. To prove the comparatively easier nature of the descent via the Madhmaheshwar valley Martin apparently detailed ten trekkers attached to his successful Nilkanth team in 2000 to force the first descent from the Satopanth glacier to Madhmaheshwar temple. Significantly the descent required two guides Harold Edwards and Chris Dale. The difficulties of the crossing (which seems like the only realistic short cut between Badri and Kedar) is recorded in the diary of Simon Needham excerpts of which were printed in Himavanta.

Before Moran the first recorded attempt after Shipton's failed epic in 1934, was by two young Calcutta climbers Ranjit Lahiri and Atul Ghosh from a Madhmaheshwar base in September 1984. Earlier that year Ranjit had attended Prabhat Kumar Ganguli's slide show of the latter's exploration of a proposed crossing to Panpatia glacier via Maindagalla tal (two or three days climb above Madhmaheshwar.) Ranjit possibly felt he could crack Prabhat's envisaged route because within three months he had set off. Whereas Eric Shipton and company had taken eight porters to the Satopanth divide and Martin Moran had taken twice that number, Ranjit and Atul only took one for the steeper reverse route.

Fatefully this small party seems to have run into a severe blizzard between Kanchni tal¹ and Maindagalla tal when three feet of snow fell and the sole porter - badly frostbitten - retullled to Madhmaheshwar to declare both members missing. Most small parties have found to their cost that the weather more than the terrain deprived them of the crossing prize. To this day nobody knows for certain what happened. Having received in Mussoorie a terse telegram from Ranjit's family 'No news. Seek assistance', I set out to make enquiries about the tragic disappearance. Whatever few pieces of the jigsaw puzzle I was able to collect the expedition historian Joydeep Sircar managed to make some sense of (HC Newsletter 38). Joydeep had been their mentor and had advised caution over their proposed plans. To indicate the havoc weather plays in the area I was taken to Kanchni tal by Ram Chandra a shepherd with whom the frostbitten porter had spent a night on his retulll. The pea soup fog was as thick as any I have ever seen. Ominously our path led over the wreckage of a crashed jet fighter plane.

The sacrifice of these two young lives however did not go in vain as their quest inspired a series of expeditions especially from Bengal and these small expeditions of modest means incrementally advanced knowledge of the most likely routes.

One fallout of my enquiries was to reveal the impracticality of the myth's second component, namely the priest's claim to perform worship in both temples the same day. (According to one version of the myth, the route was blocked after the priest transgressed and the Himalaya rose lip in protest!) If the time frame of24 hours to cover the intervening 38 kilometres is impossible in view of the physical divide, so too is the reality of the religious divide. The hereditary privileges of temple priests on different sides of a longstanding sectarian schism make the chances of perfonning puja by a commuting priest from a rival school as unlikely as that of a Protestant officiant arriving before a Catholic sanctum sanctorum. That the temples on the pilgrim circuit are serviced by priests of competing persuasions I found out when I arrived at the road head for Madhmaheshwar to consult the local priests about the missing trekkers. The Brahmin custodians of the Gupt Kashi temple urged me not to go to the Madhmaheshwar shrine arguing that no merit would accrue despite the 70-kilometre trek there and back. No reason was given for this temple's deficiency and it remained a puzzle until I met Professor William Sax of Heidelberg University then a Fulbright anthropologist researching Kedar pilgrim folklore. He explained that the priests of Madhmaheshwar belong to the Deccan refonnist order of Lingayats who dispute the spiritual precedence of Brahmins.

Faith and scholarship are at odds in interpreting the data but there is sufficient evidence on the ground to indicate that Badri and Kedar originally possessed separate sectarian identities. While both temples in recent years claim affiliation with Shankaracharya's orthodox philosophy, Badrinath bears signs of earlier Buddhist influences, while Kedamath has associations with the unorthodox teachings of the medieval Gorakhnath school.

According to popular mythology the five Kedar temples in Garhwal correspond to different parts of the divine body when Lord Shiva as 'Lord of the Animals' (pashu-pati-nath) disguised himself as a buffalo to escape the attentions of the Pandav brothers, heroes of the Mahabharat. I-1is symbolic rump is believed to be visible at the main Kedar shrine, his middle portion at 'Madhyamaheshwar' (the temple's current Sanskritised name) and so on, but his head can only be revered at the culmination of the pilgrimage at Pashupatinath temple in Kathmandu. This buffalo imagery plays no part in the symbolism surrounding Lord Badri and if any further evidence were needed to show the incompatibility of the two traditions, no Shankaracharya is allowed to enter the Pashupatinath sanctum.

It would appear the myth of a commuting priest represents an ecumenical ideal and hearkens not back to the past but to some future consummation. Nowadays for many visitors the temples are more landmarks than highlights on the trail and their residual rivalries are overlooked to concentrate on the magnificence of the wilderness much of which still awaits exploration.

According to Prabhat Ganguli's list of crossings, in 1989 Duncan Turnstall and party were the first to ascend to the Gandharpongi divide via the Panpatia glacier and Parvati gully. In 1997 Harish Kapadia ('Lost in the Legends'. HJ Vol. 54) probed the defences of the upper Panpatia glacier on the Sadri side of the divide but found the crevasses too dangerous. Interestingly he discovered that the local villagers (unlike the priests) refer to Kedar as an area rather than limit the meaning to the main Kedarnath temple. In fact in ancient times Garhwal went by the name of Kedarkhand.

In May 2000 while Moran's guides were pioneering the second crossing of Panpatia col, Anindya Mukherjee and party ('Panpatia Glacier Expedition', HJ Vol. 56) managed to locate a col leading to the Panpatia glacier in the reverse direction. (There is confusion over the terms 'col' and 'khal' and the featureless nature of the route stimulates little distinguishing detail.) Anindya's breakthrough called forth Prabhat Ganguli's c1arificatory article In 'Quest of a Legendary Route' (HJ Vol. 57). Prabhat's prolonged probing makes his the most pervasive influence in stimulating interest in the crossings. In 1985 the persistent Ganguli appears to have been the first to have identified Maindagalla tal. Ganguli's explorations continue to probe other possible crossings. He has already spied out a col between Sumeru and Yeonbuk peaks as a linking route for the north-south alignment of the temples ofGangotri and Kedarnath. ('Gangotri Col', HJ Vol. 65)

Tapan Pandit's team ('Parvati Col: The Google Way', HJ Vol. 63) in 2007 was pleasantly surprised to negotiate a way round the worst of the Panpatia icefall courtesy the help of Google Earth's three dimensional layout maps. With Debabrata Mukheljee and Simal Siswas amongst others (including Mrs Usha Pandit) they tested their computer findings on the Khirao approach and, perfonning an outflanking manoeuvre, successfully circumvented the upper icefall to become the third party to cross from Sadri to Madhmaheshwar. Martin Moran had predicted that the retreating glaciers from global wanning would not make the ice field on the crossing easier but the galloping rate of retreat might suggest otherwise. What Kapadia found dangerous if not impossible for climbers in 1997 appears to have become passable (at least for the computer savvy) only ten years later. But it would be fatal to underestimate the dangers of the way even as more trekkers are being drawn to the adventure.

A large combined team from two Bengal clubs reportedly made the crossing from Badrinath to the main Kedar in May-June 2008. Avoiding the detours involved in going via the Satopanth or (lower) Panpatia glaciers they stmck up the Rishi Ganga valley directly from the Badri temple to join the upper Panpatia-Madhmaheshwar route and reached the main Kedar temple after 16 days.

To Debabrata Mukherjee and party from Bengal in 2009 goes the distinction of completing the first reverse crossing from Kedar main temple to Badrinath in 2009. They covered the ground at a much more leisurely pace but accomplished a remarkable passage considering their hassles with porters.

Their party of nine crossed via the Panpatia-Satopanth glacier junction ridge route led by the veteran climber Debabrata. Along with Bimal Biswas, Debabrata has the distinction of accomplishing the crossing successfully not only both ways but by different routes; coming from Badri via the Panpatia glacier in 2006 and returning successfully three years later along the Satopanth. They had started from Kedar main temple late in May to reach Madhmaheshwar after the middle of June. By the end of the month they were in Badrinath having narrowly escaped avalanches while threading their way round the Panpatia — Satopanth junction ridge. To add to his distinction as a reliable explorer it would be photos of the Nilkanth west ridge taken by Debabrata that would prove clinching evidence that the Ombudsman (vilified for his objectivity) had no choice but to dismiss a controversial claim of an ascent in 2007.

Most remarkably the team (badly let down by its regular porters) had to rely on makeshift substitutes including Govind Singh the Ransi sweet shop proprietor and Jagdish Bhatt who mns a teashop. In a touch straight out of the Mahabharat (where the hero refuses to enter heaven if it meant leaving his dog behind,) the Ransi porters were accompanied on the crossing by 'Bhulu' their faithful sheep dog. 'Bhulu' was rewarded for his efforts (like John Shipton) by being sent to Kalimath from Badri by bus!

To explain the continuing fascination of the Badri-Kedar crossings it could be that the crest symbolises the meeting point where the two major motives for high altitude exploration - the devotional and recreational — merge into one. Fight your way to this zone of extreme discomfort and as others have found. the crest of the Great Himalaya possesses a magic of its own. The effort to get there is worth it because it delivers the exalted mood that faith only promises.

SUMMARY

Recording the crossings of the divide between Badrinath and Kedarnath temples over the years.

 

 

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The ashes of the Iceland volcano threatened our flight, but we arrived in Delhi on the planned day, 11 May 2010. After a two-day journey by car to Badrinath and two days of trekking, we found ourselves in a valley surrounded by 6000 m mountains.

We had collected all available information, which was not much, just a few pictures of some Indian trekkers we found on the internet, and the best map available -1:125,000. Our aim was to explore and enjoy all the surprises we were sure we would have.

We set up base camp at 4200 m, and after a rest day, we started moving. We spotted a beautiful virgin mountain that looked feasible, Parvati Parvat, so we decided to give it a try. On our first approach to the mountain, we went to a place where we had a clear view of the spur we had decided to climb. It was a beautiful, very logical and aesthetic spur. The spur would lead to a plateau (at least that was what was on the map!), and after the plateau, we thought we would reach the summit of Parvati Parvat. So we pitched our tent at 4750 m, hoping to go up on the next day on an acclimatisation climb. We had rep0l1s of bad weather coming, but we had noted on the approach trek that mornings were generally good but weather turned worse in the afternoon. We decided to take our chances thinking that we were ok; that there was no avalanche risk, so the worst that could happen would be some snowfall-wrong call! What we didn't know was that at those altitudes huge thunderstorms are normal, so in the middle of the night, beside snowfall, the huge noise of the thunder kept us awake thinking that we should not be here! At 2.30 a.m., the thunderstorm was right above us, so the decision was to descend as fast as we could, leaving everything behind, and return to base camp. It was not the best decision because we could not see a thing in the thick fog and our footsteps were gone! Still, we kept walking trying to figure out the way down every time a lightning bolt lit up the mountains. After about one hour, we admitted we were lost. We decided to retrace our steps but just at the point that our footsteps had disappeared, we found ourselves on familiar ground.

With this, we were acclimatised. After a day of rest, consumed by the desire to climb Parvati Parvat, we decided to try our luck using a small two-day weather window. According to the spur we saw before, combined with the info on the map, two very long days would be enough to summit and return. So, on the first day (21 May) we left basecamp at around 3 a.m. and climbed the not so steep part of the long spur, to pitch our tent at 5450 m on a col we called 'Budi camp'. After 7 a.m., the snow became deep (very deep!) and slowed our progress, and the sun started to consume our energies. Some time later, an easy rock scramble and a 15 m rappel got us very close to the col where we arrived around noon, tired of the knee and waist deep snow. There we pitched our tent.

Next day, we started at I a.m., hoping to reach the summit around 10 a.m., maximum at noon. We climbed the north spur that leads to a crest until 5 a.m.; it became steeper and steeper with height. We climbed it using snow stakes and some ice screws. Generally the snow was far from perfect, and even at night, we had to open trail in a snow that was sometimes knee deep. Reaching the crest, we recognised that the plateau that should be right there according to the map was more than 100 m lower. We followed the slope close to the crest, in the direction of a triangular and prominent peak we had seen from lower down, also not on the map! Not knowing how the slope would be, but figuring out from its shape that on the other side it should be a wall, we kept on the slope, and traversed it about 30 metres below the summit, until we reached a place where we Confirmed that on the opposite side was a huge gap. It was a rock wall. A steep snow slope led us down to the plateau. After that, we went up again following the long and monotonous plateau that we thought would lead us almost to the summit of Parvati. The snow was there all the time ... shitty ... very shitty! The infoll11ation that we had from two previous attempts said that they reached the dome's fore summit. Around 7.30 a.m. we reached a snow dome at about 6150 m at the end of the plateau and to our surprise, between us and the summit was another sharp peak! I guess my question to Paulo was 'What is this f...ing mountain doing between us and Parvati?' As we could see, the dome should not be considered a fore summit, as there is another sharp point between the dome and Parvati Parvat.

At that point, we were at least three hours away from our objective, with a fore summit that was not on the map and was not mentioned in previous attempts. We were under the sun in snow that was getting worst every second! What to do?

We spent about 30 minutes there to decide. We were happy that we had opened a new route, the first Portuguese route in the Himalaya, and sad with the reality of not reaching the summit we had aimed for.

We had to be realistic - it was too dangerous to go on for another three hours and then return, because the snow was already very bad and getting worse with the sun. It would become more dangerous to do a part of the route coming back, specially a steep slope, where there was no place to protect (nothing worked in such a bad snow). And it was only 8 a.m.!

But when we turned back, we immediately looked at the prominent triangular peak that we passed on the middle slope, and immediately had the same idea 'Probably it is still unci imbed, lets go for it!'. So with renewed joy, we went down the plateau and directly climbed the slope, for the last few metres to the snow summit. When back in base camp and reading a book about som(( climbs in the region we found its name - Ekdant, 6100 m, and in Delhi we found out that it had already been climbed. Two Indians reportedly climbed it in 1980. Anyway, we had explored a new route, and in our opinion, the mountain had offered us a very aesthetic and logical line.

Still, it was not over! As we had expected, it was an epic descent! Because we had brought only a 50 m rope, we had to live with a lot of 25 m rappels. The next day we reached base camp after a long descent (on which we ridiculously buried ourselves sometimes up to the chest). Honestly, we had never seen such bad snow!

After a few days of bad weather, we tried Parvati again, following another route on the north face, but bad snow conditions and the huge avalanche danger turned us back at 5100 m. It would be impossible to go and come back from the summit in a two-day good weather window (only two days again!), considering the snow conditions. It was not a bad decision, as a little while after we turned back, a huge avalanche crossed an area where we could have been, if we had carried on!

We then decided to use the last day of good weather to climb Kaltik, 5115 m, which we found possible to climb in one day. We could see this peak from base camp - it is a beautiful tri angular sharp peak standing on the bank of Satopanth lake. It is also not marked on the map! This was a great light style ascent, in every way. We took only essential climbing gear (two snow-stakes, three ice-screws and four rock pitons), a back-pack with water and some chocolates. Again, we were caught by the sun, and the snow got very bad after 8 a.m. Anyway the summit was fun, as the crux was the last 7 m we had to rock climb (grade IV). We reached it at 10.00 a.m., and we were happy to be the first Portuguese to climb a summit in the Himalaya! We named the route 'Directa Lusitana' (Lusitanian Direct), and we named the peak 'Kartik', to maintain the Hindu spirit of the place, as the mountains in that area are named after Hindu gods.

Kartik is the younger, warrior son of Lord Shiva (also known as Neelkanth) and Parvati (Shiva's wife), and is the brother of Ekdant. Indeed this mountain is
close to Neelkanth and Parvati Parvat, as Ekdant is, and it is appropriate that Kartik (5115 m) is smaller than Ekdant (6100 m)!

Coming down was again a question of patience and time, on very shitty and dangerous snow. After that day, the weather turned bad again, with huge snow storms, giving us no chance to do anything more.

But today, we look back, remembering with huge smiles, our real exploring expedition that was filled with a 'FREE SPIRIT'.

SUMMARY

An attempt on Parvati Parvat in Garhwal. Ekdant (6100 m) and Kartik, (5115 m) were climbed by a two-member team from Portugal.

 

 

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It was the aftemoon of 13 June 2010 when our group reached Kanasar lake (4400 m) located in the westem Garhwal region. Late snow in June had slowed us down and we were exhausted by the time we reached a ridge overlooking Kanasar lake. The moment the lake came into view our attention was drawn to the grand spectacle that unfolded before us. Based on the information previously available, I was aware that Kanasar was a large lake but no way had I expected an expanse as vast as what we were witnessing and that too in Garhwal, at such a height.

The desire to visit Kanasar lake originated after a series of treks I did in the westem Garhwal region in recent years. The most popular valley in the area is Har ki Doon, which has been attracting trekking groups for several years now. Northwest of Har ki Doon is the valley of Obra gad and further west are the Supin, Nalgan, and Rupin valleys. Kanasar lake lies between the Supin and Nalgan valleys, and 5 km further south is another lake called Bharaadsar (4300 m). In 2008, I had visited Bharaadsar and leamt from our support team that there was another lake not too far away that was not only much larger but had hardly been visited by trekking groups. This ignited my interest in Kanasar and since then I had wanted to plan a visit.

One of the reasons that Kanasar has not attracted trekking groups and local village folk is its location. The area, which falls between Bharaadsar and Kanasar, is referred to as Manjiban, meaning 'middle ground', as the border between Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand runs right through this area. Bharaadsar has an easy access with a broad trail from the Supin valley. Between the two lakes there is a high ridge of 4800 m running toward the east which blocks any easy access from Bharaadsar as well as from the Supin valley. The approach from the Nalgan side is a lot more manageable and we decided to take that option. A close look at the maps revealed that there were two options to reach the head ofNalgan valley itself. One option was to walk up the Nalgan valley from Dodra Kwar and the other was to cross the Nalgan pass coming in from Kinnaur. We felt the approach across the Nalgan pass was more interesting and chose that option.

The trek started from Sangla village, which is now more like a town in Kinnaur. It is an advantage to begin walking from Sangla as you start at 2600 m. In two easy days the team established camp at the base of Nalgan pass at 3900 m. What was worrying us along was the weather, which was looking unsettled. There were high winds blowing constantly, which seem to be a feature of the Kinnaur area, possibly influenced by the Tibetan plateau. Later in the evening, our campsite was hit by an electrical storm accompanied by snow, which fell through the night. The next morning even though it was still snowing we decided to cross the pass. After four hours ofa gentle snow plod we were on top of Nalgan pass (4300 m).

The descent to the Nalgan valley turned out to be quite a struggle. Unlike the Kinnaur side, which has a gentle gradient, the slope down to the Nalgan valley was steep. The snow from the previous day had made the ground slippery, and two porters and virtually all the team members took turns tumbling their way down. We descended some 700 m to the valley floor and noticed an excellent area for a campsite across the Nalgan river. A bridge was quickly made and the team was finally settled in a camp free of wind and snow. The route for the next day required us to cross a ridge to the south, after which there was again a steep descent to a lovely campsite at 3500 m in the Pancho dar valley, which is an offshoot of the Nalgan valley and gives the closest access to Kanasar lake. Attracted by the meadows in the region, shepherds primarily visit the Panchodar valley from Dodra Kwar from June to August, taking their flock up in large numbers. Our team spotted three brown bears in the Panchodar valley as we approached our campsite but there was no cause for alarm as the bears were at a distance and did not show any interest in our affairs.

The route to Kanasar required us to put another camp before approaching the lake. As we gained height, it became quite clear as to why the shepherds were attracted to the area. The route passes through massive meadows running continuously for several kilometres. We were now touching Manjiban area and camped at Bijori (3950 m), which was a sprawling meadow strewn with various types of flowers. Looking towards the north, Nalgan pass which we had crossed three days ago, was clearly visible. Towards the south of the campsite lay a grassy ridge that we would cross to get to Kanasar lake. Later in the evening, the area was again struck-by an elech-ical stonn followed by a fair amount of snow, which later proved quite an impediment on the route to Kanasar lake.

On 13 June, the team started for the lake early in the morning in clear weather. The snowline was surprisingly low, at 4100 m right in the middle of June. After gaining a couple of ridges we reached a point at 4200 m that appeared to be the final two-kilometre stretch of to the lake with a gentle height gain of a few hundred metres. It looked like we would need another hour. However, distances in the mountains and degrees of difficulty can be deceptive, and boulders covered by thigh-deep snow did us in. It finally took us another four hours to reach a point at 4450 m, which gave us the first views of Kanasar lake below us.

Kanasar appeared to be shaped like an eye and certainly looked about a kilometre long. The whole lake had a thin sheet of ice on its surface on which we could see birds walking. Towards the middle of the lake we noticed two islands and soon learned that these islands were responsible for the name Kanasar. Apparently early visitors to the lake felt that the islands that marked the lake made it resemble a one-eyed person, ('kana' in Hindi), hence, the name Kanasar. According to our information, the lake is very deep and is visited annually by villagers primarily from Himachal who immerse a deity in the lake through a rope. It took us a full hour to walk the length of the lake and by the time we were done it was late afternoon and clouds had descended around the lake, creating a heavenly sight.

We had previously decided not to camp close to the lake as in the eyes oflocal villages lakes are often considered sacred. We managed a quick descent by taking a route through a side valley called Narma. Next day the team walked the length of the Panchodar valley and camped near its confluence with the Nalgan valley. It was a beautiful walk in a valley that had been visited rarely by trekkers. Also camped nearby was the first shepherd family from the Kwar area that was taking its flock up the Nalgan and Panchodar valleys for the summer months. Apparently it is common for a family to have over a 1000 sheep and goats, which walk bunched close together and leave no option to trekkers but to take a long break off the trail when they do so.

The walk down the Nalgan valley was quite stressful. Nalgan valley is very narrow and looked like an earthquake zone. There were several landslides right through the valley. and as a result, the trail in most stages was unsettled.

Finally, three days later. we reached Sewa village, little past the Dodra Kwar region. Sewa is the first village encountered while crossing the border into Uttarakhand. An easy stage the next day led out to the road head to Dhaula and onwards to Netwar, thus completing a memorable two-week trek to Kanasar lake.

SUMMARY

A trek to Kanasar lake in western Garhwal.

 

 

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Standing on the huge debris of the landslide at Malpa village that wiped out the entire village killing 380 people on a fateful night of August 1998, I was thinking of Protima Bedi -- the famous IndianOdissi danseuse. She was on a pilgrimage to Kailash-Manasarovar and was resting that night at Malpa. Her body could not be traced and sadly she would never dance again.

Five years later, we also took shelter at Malpa in a chatti — a roadside hut-cum-hotel, erected on the debris of that land-slide. I assured my companions with an expert's (!) observation that 'nonnally, massive landslide do not go off twice exactly at the same spot'! We were on our pilgrimage to Om Parvat — a mountain near the Tibet border, on top of which is etched the most sacred word of Hindu religion - 'Om'.

Starting from Dharchula, a sub-divisional town, where we spent two days to obtain an 'Inner Line Pennit', we reached the road head at noon and started to trek. It was the middle of June and by the time we reached Malpa, the midday blazing sun had left us exhausted. The trail was difficult and risky at some places. So, instead of proceeding to Bundi — 9 kms away, we decided to call it a day.

Manoj - the youngest of our three-member team, wanted to go back. He was not comfortable trekking for 7/8 days on such a treacherous path where a little slip would wash one away in the torrential current of Kali river, not to speak of land slides and rock falls. The oldest member of our team - Bhabani Da (Da is a honorific suffix for elders); a youth of 63 years with a recent bypass surgery to boot, was game. We convinced Manoj to go on for another day and then decide on whether to continue.

Next day, about a kilometre of the trail through a place called Nirpani turned out to be really dangerous. The trail was barely a foot wide rocky path cut out from a sheer rock face and a thousand feet below, roared the Kali, almost beckoning trekkers. While negotiating this part, Manoj turned deathly pale. Fortunately, we reached Bundi (2740 m) 9 km away by late afternoon without any untoward incident and took shelter in the PWD bungalow. But, after seeing the sheer ascent to the top of Chhiyalekh from the courtyard of the bungalow that we would have to negotiate the next day, Manoj refused to move an inch further. Next morning, we had to send him back with a porter and had to recruit another porter from Bundi, at a much higher rate.

So far, the trail was a bit claustrophobic as it passed through the narrow gorge of the Kali river, but as we reached Chhiyalekh top (3350 m) the path opened up. It was a moderately tough ascent from Bundi, 610 m over just 3 km. A sign board at the top announced, 'Nirash mat hoiye, aage anllpam sondmya hai' (Don't be frustrated, unmatched beauty lies ahead).

Well, that was some consolation!

But Chhiyalekh top is indeed a beautiful bugiyal (alpine meadow), a green grassy mountain table-top, bounded by blackish-green pine and deodars, full of colourful alpine flowers; Iris, Primula, Genetian. Amidst this colour-riot were strewn a few black boulders as if to break the monotony of the green. This bugiyal indeed is unmatched.

By noon we reached Garbiyang (3145 m) 4 km away - once a prosperous village and trade centre, now deserted with dilapidated buildings since trade with Tibet was banned. Legend has it that Vyas, the author of Mahabharata, had meditated here. So the entire region is called Vyas valley (or Byans valley). After a frugal lunch here, we proceeded towards Gunji village, 10 km away and our next stop. The trail through alpine forest was pleasant. On the far right, snow peaks of Api mountain range kept us company. 2 km ahead of Gunji, the Kuthi river meets Kali and flows down. A small plant (Stellera Chamaejasme), about one and half feet high with white bordered red flowers on all its branches beckoning the sky, welcomed us.

Gunji (3200 m) is a prosperous village of stone houses with slate-stone roofs. We took shelter in the pennanent ITBP camp. The camp-in-charge, Kundan Singh, was only too happy to receive us and promptly offered us whisky (unfortunately none of us drink). He was mighty shocked and left us, never to return. Nevertheless, we were well looked after.

Our next night stay, Kalapani, was 9 km away and the trail on the banks of the Kali river, through deodar and pine was pleasant. We were on the right bank ofKali at more than 3350 m where the tree line ended. On the left bank was Nepal. Kali defines the border of the two countries. We took a bath in a hot spring at Kalapani and spent the day just lazing around and had an extended dinner with officers of the ITBP.

Next day, I was to see a wondrous sight, the Om Parvat. The steep ascent and rarified air made the going tough. Navidang (4200 m), our destination, was 7 km away but it took me almost four hours to reach it. On reaching there we were taken to an aluminum hut but I rushed out to see Om Parvat. The sky was cloudy and, flUstrated, I slept and slept like a log.

I woke up suddenly and in a flash, I was out. The clouds had
disappeared and there stood Om Parvat (6191 m) with a perfect Om etched on the top — the biggest Om of the world. White snow had fallen on its black ridges in such a way that it formed the word Om - the most sacred word of the Hindu religion.

SUMMARY

A trek to the foot of Om Parvat (6191 m) in eastern Kumaun. Due to the peculiar natural shape of the rocks on its face and especially when the snow covers it, it resembles the word Om, which is sacred to Hindus.

Om Parvat was first ascended on 8 October 2006 by Tim Woodward, Jason Hubert, Paul Zuchowski, Martin Welch, Diarmid Hearns, Jack Pearse, Amanda George and Andy Perkins.

 

 

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1st attempt - 2008

A four-member team consisting of Tapan Pandit, Usha Pandit, Pijush Paul and Pijush Garai trekked in an unexplored part of Kinnaur in 2008. We reached Chhitkul, the last village in Baspa valley, on 11 September. On the next day we reached Nagasti, where a post of ITBP welcomed us. We reached Ranikanda (3658 m) by afternoon and two hours later, we were camped at a pasture before Laldhang.

Next day, we faced a vast land slide area at Laldhang, 2 km from Ranikanda. With a lunch break at Dunthi (27 km from Chhitkul), we proceeded a further 10 km to reach the Nithal (4115 m) ITBP camp.

On 14 September morning we left the Arsomang — Baspa confluence and crossed Arsomang nala which had knee-deep water. We then ascended the left ridge of Arsomang. The entire Arsomang valley is a restricted area for civilians. Forces move only up to Nakdum (4620 m) to go to Yearum la, 10 km from Nithal. After Nakdum, the remaining Arsomang valley is untrodden. We passed over a number of lateral moraines on the south and noticed two pastures near the river bed. After crossing a boulder zone we entered a large pasture. On the opposite end was the Nakdum nala flowing down from Tibet on the north ridge.

The next day dawned clear and sunny and we continued along the left bank of Arsomang nala, descended to Arsomang and followed a boulder strewn track. It was occasionally obliterated by a number of lateral moraines to the south. To the north of Arsomang, only an ice capped rock-wall was visible. We crossed a glacial stream flowing down from the right and reached the foot of a moraine ridge. After ascending the steep ridge, all of a sudden, the vast Arsomang glacier opened before us, a large ice field with a 5826 m blackish peak in the middle. The main glacier runs through the west of the peak towards south and further in the SE. It is surrounded by a high snowy ridge with a number of peaks - 6035 m, 6150 m and 6120 m. This main glacier led us to the Chorgad Bichli Bamak — and Dakshin Bamak . On the left of the blackish peak, the left portion of Arsomang glacier gradually ascends to a 'U' shaped ridge which leads to Chorgad Uttari Bamak.

On the next day, after a two-hour climb, we descended to the main glacier on the left. We easily crossed the one km wide ice field and reached the west rocky ridge of 5826 m peak.

After lunch, we negotiated the rocky wall of the 5826 m peak from its south. The sky became overcast and it began to snow. We pitched our tents at 5480 m. The snowfall continued for the next three days scaring our porters who refused to proceed further. We reh'eated to ITBP camp and left for home.

2nd expedition - 2009

Eight months later, during the pre-monsoon period of June 2009, I organised another expedition in order to follow the same route, with some variations. The members this time were Tapan Pandit, Usha Pandit, Sankar Mondal and Subrata Kunti.

From Chhitkul within three days, we touched Nakdum on 13 June. On the 14th, we reached the Arsomang snout. The main Arsomang glacier and last year's route was on our right. We stopped and pitched camp on the moraine at 2 p.m. Later, one member and two Sherpas set out to recce the route ahead. They returned with news that we could reach the pass within three hours on the next day.

On 15 June we started at 6.30 a.m. and continued over the rocky ridge for one and half hour up to the foot of Peak 5720 m. We reached the snow slope of southern wall of the peak in knee-deep snow and progressed slowly to the NE. Gradually the ridge of the Arsomang — Chorgad watershed was clearly visible ahead . On the last slopes we fixed ropes and reached the top of the pass.

Facing us on the east was the vast ice field ofChorgad Uttari Bamak flowing down E and SE to form Chorgad nala. On the SW was the left of the Arsomang glacier. On the left the ridge proceeded north to meet Peak 6005 m, which was situated at the junction ofUttari Bamak and the Tibetan ice field. We christened this unnamed col as 'Chungsakhago' (after Gerard's comment "... A Rampur party crossing a pass, he called the Chungsakhago, to collect revenue from Nelang ..." (Exploring Kinnaur and Spiti by Deepak Sanan and Dhanu Swadi).

On the other side of the pass we descended to Chorgad Uttari Bamak through 200 m of loose snow. With snow falling, we trudged five km over three hours to reach a scree zone and camped only half a km short of Chorgad nala at 4600 m.

A vast basin is bisected by Chorgad nala. Descending from the ridge we crossed the nala and proceeded for Kiarkoti. Chorgad nala is formed by the confluence of the three glacial streams of Uttari Bamak, Bichli Bamak and Dakshin Bamak. After two kms, we crossed another nala and reaching the foot of a lateral moraine we continued along the right of Chorgad. Finally we reached Kiarkoti (4550 m) on the right bank with several empty shepherds' huts.

Ahead we crossed two pastures, then stopped by a land-slide at 2 p.m. and camped at the nearest pasture - Tokporigba, two km from Kiarkoti. On 17 June we crossed Chorgad nala by an ice bridge and moved south towards Dumku (23 km from Kiarkoti) via Kalapani gad, Nakurche, Dodhpani, Thanda pani and Demche gad. As the weather remained bad we were compelled to camp at the muddy Namuche pasture on the east bank of Chorgad.

On 18th morning, we started for our last day's trek to Lalduata and crossed an iron bridge, finally to reach the concrete road. Above the confluence of Chorgad and Jadhganga we reached Dumku. The dream of Gerard, an explorer, turned to reality through our discovery of the Chungsakhago pass.

SUMMARY

Crossing of a pass at the head of Chorgad, from Arsomang (Kinnaur) to Dumku (Gangotri, Uttarakhand) in June 2009. The group has proposed that this pass be named as 'Chungsakhago'.

 

 

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In 1955 Peter Holmes and Alastair Lamb, together with their wives, set out to drive the 7000 miles from London to Delhi in two Morris Minor vans, joining others from Cambridge University to collect ammonite fossils and survey/explore the upper Spiti and Ratang watersheds. The expedition was very successful, but Trevor Braham's and Peter Holmes penetration of the Ratang gorge showed that there was a huge area between the Spiti river to the east and the Parvati to the west yet to be explored. Peter vowed to return in 1956.

Over the 1955/56 winter Peter finalised his plans. Neither was Trevor able to return, nor were other climbing companions available. Much to my surprise, I was asked if 1 would like to go. My climbing experience was minimal, but I was reasonably fit even if the anny didn't accept me for National Service due to excess stomach acid.

The expedition would consist of Peter, Judy (my sister, his wife) and me, all from England. We would link up in Manali with Rinzing (aka Riksen), who had climbed with Peter the year before, and Sonam, Angrup and Jolson who would be our porters. The general plan was to walk the 80 miles or so to Rangrik in the Spiti valley, penetrate the Ratang gorge, explore, climb and survey the area and then find a way west across the Himalayan divide to the Parvati valley, via a pass that K. Snelson had crossed in 1952.

Peter's book, Mountains and a Monastery, (and his articles in the Himalayan Journal Vol. XX, p. 78) written immediately on our return, covered our adventures. Looking back after 50 years or so I am struck as to how 'lucky' we were. Peter had the experience, and Judy had a great deal of common sense. r was willing but inexperienced. We were all in our early 20's and going to be out of reach of anyone for more than two months.

Apart from a bad cut, which got infected on one ofRinzing's hands and my bad attack of boils, which I think were caused by malnutrition, we had few health problems. We had basically no fresh vegetables for ten weeks, and the food packing list shows no mention of vitamin pills or any other supplements. We had dried fruit, raisins and calmed vegetables, rice, flour etc ... about 750 lbs in all, plus two sheep and a goat which gave us a semi varied diet. (I had also carried a copious supply of indigestion tablets.) We were never hungry till the last week, but all lost a great deal of weight. international incident. PN , as we called him was 35, had no experience, but had brought his own equipment which included ski boots! By some good fortune some hiking boots appeared from somewhere, much to everyone's relief. His negotiating and language skills in dealing with porters and pony men were wonderful to watch.

Luck was with us in the comparatively easy forcing of the Ratang gorge, as opposed to the previous year. I think a week later would have seen all of the snow bridges gone and the river higher. Our base camp for the next month was at about 14,500 ft (4420 m) and to my surprise I seemed to have little altitude problems, even when climbing up to over 19,500 ft (5940 m).

The crux of the expedition was to be the crossing of the divide which would lead us to the Parvati valley (and the 55 mile trek back to Kullu). The porters were certain that our proposed route would not work, so to show them how easy it would be, Peter and I set off to the pass (now known as the South Ratang) as if it would be just a walk - no ropes, no cold weather gear, no gloves, two cameras, a couple of chocolate bars and some lemonade. At 7.30, with a 'See you around 4' we set off up the moraine. By 1 p.m. we were at the foot of the pass after a 4 &frac; to 5 mile walk, with the last mile being on snow. It was so hot with the reflected glare off the glacier; we decided to leave the heavy Rolleiflexes and anoraks at a cairn just below the steep part of the pass.

Getting over the pass was much harder than we had thought, as having no ropes, we could not protect each other. At the top it was obvious we couldn't go back the way we had come, so we tried to follow the ridge line over the peak 5760 m to our north. At this point the weather broke and it started to snow, forcing us down towards the Parvati. We then decided to work our way further north, well below the ridge, and try to guess when to start back to the crest, hoping to find a place that would let us cross over onto a huge scree slope that we had seen on the walk up the glacier. Luckily, after two or three tries this worked. It was then 4 p.m., and in minutes we were back on the glacier and walking back to the cameras and anoraks.

We arrived back to a very anxious camp site at 7 p.m. after hiking some 10 miles, and climbing about 6000 ft in our 12 hours. We were then able to convince the porters that the immediate pass could be crossed 'without difficulty' and that we had seen the second pass which would be easy. 'Ifso someone else had already done it' was their logic! After that we would be able to walk down to the Parvati, Manikaran, Kullu and home!

With the miniscule information available at the time, in retrospect it is not really surprising that we got into difficulties in the last leg of the return. The plan hinged on the pass that Peter and Trevor saw in 1955 and to which we were aiming being one of Snelson's passes which was 'easy' and had easy access to the Parvati valley. It wasn't, as we found out, and our exciting crossing of the divide via 'Holmes' Col' and the long, finally foodless walk down the Dibbibokri added four days to our planned arrival back at the Parvati, Pulga and supplies.

We had started out from Manali with 12 pony loads of equipment and supplies plus what our porters brought... probably 1200 lbs in all. We finished up in Manali with the clothes on our backs, cameras, three tents and personal effects. It was a terrific adventure.

Back in England, Peter set to work to convert the hundreds of photographs and bearings he had taken into a map. With only a handful of 'known' points to start with, it was a major problem to reconcile what he had recorded with the existing information recorded from the Parvati. Once the existing Snelson infonnation and Survey of India map details were 'offset' by some 5 miles from what had been originally thought, everything made sense. The map that he subsequently produced, with one very minor exception, was astoni shingly accurate, as confirmed by modern methods and subsequent expeditions.

Looking back, with the aid of surviving photos, I'm struck at how little mountaineering 'stuff' we used. Judy, Peter and I each had an anorak (colour coded for photography) with snow proof trousers to match. We had long woolen underwear and thin sweaters, string vests, jeans, gloves and woolen socks. Ropes, crampons (very seldom used) and good hiking boots - mine lasted for years afterwards. Down filled jackets were 110t available - to us, anyway. The photo of Peter on top of the Ratang Tower, some 20,000ft, in Mountains and a Monastery illustrates the point.

I think we were very lucky to have done what we did, when we did
it. We were definitely venturing into the 'unknown' and without being given the opportunity by Peter I wouldn't have dreamed of tlying it! It seems that very few people besides us have crossed the South Ratang pass, and I can't find any reference to a subsequent crossing of Holmes col. If someone has, I'd love to read about it!

SUMMARY

Recalling an expedition to Spiti in 1956.

 

 

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Our goal was to climb the east summit of Saser Kangri II. The west summit was climbed by an Indo Japanese expedition in 1984. According to all our maps and information, the east summit is higher and therefore should be referred to as Saser Kangri Main and would make it the second highest unclil11bed peak in the world.¹

Our expedition left the Nubra valley (3050 m) near the village of Tigur on 7 August 2009. Two days were spent hiking up the Chamshen Lungpa valley to the snout of the Sakang Lungpa glacier. Base camp was established in a side valley on 11 August above and to the southeast of the Sakang Lungpa glacier at 5180 m. To reach our intended objective of the East (main) summit of Saser Kangri II, we needed to cross over onto the South Shukpa Kunchang glacier which was the next valley, east of our base camp. We made several acclimatisation and reconnaissance trips up the unnamed glacier behind base camp on 12-13 August and established a camp on an unnamed pass above the South Shukapa Kunchang glacier at c. 6000 m. We dropped onto the South Shukpa Kunchang glacier on the 14th to explore the route to the base of the south face of Saser Kangri II and then spent till the 16th acclimatising and exploring the area.

We returned to base camp on 16 August in deteriorating weather and waited there until the 24th when the weather improved enough to go back over the pass onto the South Shukpa Kunchang glacier. We spent two nights camped high on the glacier at 6500 m to acclimatise and then returned to base camp on the 27th. We received a weather forecast for at least a week of bad weather so we decided to hike back down to the Nubra valley on 30 August to rest for a few days at a lower elevation. We hiked back to base camp on 2 September in still unsettled weather but with a forecast fur clearing in a couple of days.

On 6 September we climbed back to the pass in cold and windy conditions with a forecast for only a small window of good weather. Because the weather window was not going to last long enough to climb Saser Kangri II, we decided to use the opportunity to go up on the route for a day and reconnoiter the route and assess snow conditions. On 6 September we climbed back to the pass in cold and windy conditions with a forecast for only a small window of good weather. Because the weather window was not going to last long enough to climb Saser Kangri II, we decided to use the opportunity to go up on the route for a day and reconnoiter the route and assess snow conditions.

Bad weather kept us from attempting the peak again until 19 September when we started up the face again with the intent of going for the summit. We reached a good bivouac site earlier in the day at 6700 m and spent the night there since there did not appear to be any good bivouac sites until a ledge system at 7000 m. On 20 September we climbed up steep ice slopes in the main gully system to where we veered to the right into some mixed climbing that would take us onto the major ledge system halfway up the face. We had a poor bivouac that night on small ledges chopped out of the ice and we were not able to erect the tents. On 21 September we made progress onto the large ledge system and established a better bivouac by spending nearly four hours chopping a ledge out of the ice. That night it snowed and due to the poor, cold and windy weather we decided to descend on 22 September. Climbing this high in late September was very cold. We had night temperatures of -13° to -17° C and highs during the day, if we had sun of -5° to -9° C.

We left base camp on 25 September and arrived at the road in the Nubra valley that same day.

The Joint Indo-American-British 2009 Saser Kangri II Expedition included Indians: Chewang Motup (co-leader), Ang Tashi, Konchok Thinles, Dhan Singh and Tsering Sherpa; Americans: Mark Richey (co-leader), Steve Swenson and Mark Wilford; and British: Jim Lowther.

SUMMARY

An attempt on Saser Kangri II (East Peak) in September 2009.

 

 

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Shortly before 2 p.m. on 8 October 1883, W. W. Graham, Emil Boss and Ulrich Kauffmann stood some 30 to 40 feet below the summit of a peak to the south of Kangchenjunga. Graham believed they were within an ace of the first ascent of Kabru (24,015ft/7338m). The trio had recorded the highest altitude yet reached by mountaineers. However within a year doubts were expressed and have persisted down the decades such that the first ascent of Kabru is now generally credited to Reginald Cooke in 1935. But is that fair? After reassessing the evidence, Willy Blaser and Glyn Hughes have concluded it is time for a rehabilitation of Graham and his Swiss companions.

The carping begins

On 9 June 1884, Graham read a paper describing his Himalayan trip to the Royal Geographical Society. In it he said that the then new map ofSikkim was 'a work of admirable accuracy up to the snow-line', however because the Survey officers had no training or skills in the arts of mountaineering, their maps' suffer when they come to the delineation of the ground above snow level'. He suggested that officers should be given alpine training before taking up duties in the Himalaya. We have no doubt that Graham's criticisms were intended to be constructive, but they were clearly not seen that way in the corridors of the Indian Survey Department. In an article in The Pioneer Mail of Allahabad, an anonymous correspondent, describing himself as 'for nearly 30 years a wanderer in the Himalayas' poured scorn on his claims. Several other pens who claimed to represent 'the Indian school of mountaineering' stated their belief that Graham never made the ascents he had described. In a vigorous and witty response in the AJ, Douglas Freshfield took apart all the arguments with great relish, and confinns his total support for the accounts of Graham and Boss.

Controversy in England

William Woodman Graham was a young law student with an impressive record of ascents of major peaks in the Alps. This apparently did not endear him to the members of the Alpine Club who blackballed him when he applied for membership in 1882. The following year Graham made his historic journey in the Himalaya with the main object of climbing mountains 'more for sport and adventure than for the achievement of scientific knowledge'. His lack of scientific rigour was to allow some well-known mountaineers in England, to doubt his achievements. Among them was Sir Mm1in Conway, who repeated the accusations made by the 'wanderer' and William Hunter Workman who dismissed Graham's claim.

Missing arguments

Having not found a single argument against Graham's climb in our extended research, we think it's only fair to validate it. If more support from any highly respected Himalayan mountaineer was needed, it came from Tom Longstaff, in a paper in 1906. We can do no better than quote him. 'A well-known Indian official of my acquaintance, who was in Darjeeling at the time of Graham's visit, says now, and said then, that he fully believed in Graham's bona fides, but thought he had mistaken Kabur (15,830 ft) for Kabru (24,005 ft), an opinion which has since been quoted by others. Now, for anyone who is a mountaineer, and has seen Kabru, it is impossible to believe that Graham, Emil Boss, and Kauffmann could make any mistake as to which peak they were on'.J.Norman Collie was not less clear in Geographical Journal 1903: 'Any one who read his (Graham) account can't fail to admit that he must have climbed the peak lying on the south-west of Kangchenzunga, for there is no other high peak there which he could have ascended from his starting point except Kangchenzunga itself.

Conclusion...

One of the chief arguments urged against this ascent was the assertion that Graham makes practically no reference to the pangs of mountain sickness, which it is assumed he must have felt at 24'000ft/7315 m. This argument was later dropped; but the climb was then discredited because many people could not conceive it possible to climb at the pace he described, at such altitude until Tom Longstaff proved on his expedition to Trisul in 1906 that such rapid progress was not impossible.

Graham was accompanied by two of the best Swiss climbers. Kaufmann was one of the fastest step-cutters alive. They used the modern technique of ice-manship — the use of ropes and ices-axes — an art totally unknown at that time in India. During the summer they had crossed a number of high passes. They had climbed several peaks over 21,000ft/6400 m. They were obviously very fit and well acclimatised. Graham reconnoitred Kabru's west, south and eastern face carefully. He had full opportunity of comparing near and distant views of his mountain. Aware that an ascent from the west and south would be impossible, they chose their starting point at Ahluthang in the east. And as Graham mentioned himself, their ascent had only been possible because of the extremely favourable snow conditions.

Summarising the above, those who declared themselves firmly on the side of Graham's party in the dispute include Freshfield, Collie, Longstaff, Garwood and Rubenson. Those against include Conway, who later changed his mind, and Hunter Workman. whose argument was never that he did not believe Graham's ascent, but simply that without adequate scientific confinnation the ascent was not proven. Is it a coincidence that both Conway and Hunter Workman subsequently made claims to have made the highest ascents to date, claims which would have been invalid if Graham's Kabru ascent had been accepted?

Why do doubts still persist?

In view of the overwhelming support for Graham's claims by a majority of Himalayan explorers and mountaineers of the day, it is difficult to understand why these doubts still persisted. The answer may have come from Kenneth Mason's book Abode of Snow published in 1955 and considered to be the most important and complete publication on the history of Himalayan exploration and mountaineering. The verdict of Mason, a forn1er Superintendent of the Survey of India was clearly an influence here. Once again the doubts of the Survey Department had been allowed to dominate the convictions of a considerable body of eminent mountaineers. Even the specific evidence he cites for believing that Graham had mistaken the mountain that he was climbing (no mention of the Kabru glacier) has turned out to be wrong. All later Himalayan experts and authors took Mason's verdict as reference. Nobody conducted his own research. We did and strongly believe that it is time to put these doubts to rest, and give Graham, Boss and Kauffmann their due credit for an extraordinary achievement.

SUMMARY

Fresh research on W W Graham's ascent of Kabru peak in 1883.

This is a shortened version of the original article that was published in the Alpine Journal 2009 - Copyright Alpine Journal, W. Blaser/G. Hugues. Willy Blaser (born 1948) is a Swiss freelance alpine-journalist, author of Swiss 8000 m summiteers list 'CH-8000'-www.willyblaser.ch

 

 

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Very often with mountaineers it happens, that as they set out to climb a mountain, they get attracted to another. This sudden attraction is often fatal and invariably the new mountain of interest, sooner or later ends up becoming their objective. Something similar happened with me in 2005. As I was cruising down the Dingri plains in Tibet, en route to Nyalam from Lhasa with a team of instructors from the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering (NIM) Uttarkashi to climb Shisha Pangma, my attention was drawn to this towering mountain, which was seemingly standing like a giant resting in deep slumber, amidst a sea of lower satellite peaks. More truly, akin to lesser mortals bowing in reverence to the Grand Master. This was Cho Oyu, a goddess of the 'Great Tibetan Plateau'. Instantly, I made up my mind to be back! Soon the mountain was lost to the rolling landscape, out of sight... but remained finnly etched in my mind.

Cho Oyu rising to 820 I m, stands as the 6th highest mountain of the world. Located on the true crest of the Great Himalayan Range, the south face of the mountain fomls a part of the Sagaramatha National Park of Nepal, while the north face falls into the Qomolongma National Nature reserve in Tibet. The mountain lies on the Mahalangur Himal, some 28 km west of Everest. 10 km to the east of Cho Oyu on the same ridge, lies the mighty Gyachungkang (7922 m). To the west lies Chamar (7287 m) and lasemba or Pasang Lhamu Chuli (7350 m). Further west, 7 km from Cho Oyu lies the historic Nangpa la (5741 m), used practically by all the expeditions attempting the mountain from the west face, including the route of the first ascent.

The mountain is also rimmed by a large concentration of glaciers, both to the north and south. To the south, from west to east lie the Bhote Koshi, Nangpa, Lumsuna, Ngozumpa, Gyazumba and the Ngojumba glaciers. Bhote Koshi, the principal river of Solu Khumbu drains from these glaciers. To the north of the massif also lie a series of glaciers, though much shorter in length such as the Gyabrag, Palung, Gyachung and a number of unnamed glaciers, the waters of which drain into the
Tibetan plateau.

I remember first seeing the mountain on a clear day en route from C3 to South Col in 2003, on Everest. Although distinct in shape and form, the mountain is one of the many seen in the sea of mountains, from Sagarmatha. But it was only in 2005, that I was truly lured by the mountain into making an attempt and that chance came knocking in 2009.

Cho Oyu literally means the Goddess of Turquoise or the Turquoise Goddess. The word Cho means goddess and Yu turquoise. That turquoise is the favourite stone of Tibetans, is well known, but on the Cho Oyu trail this becomes evident, as it is adorned by virtually every Yakpa. While turquoise goddess is the universally accepted interpretation of Cho Oyu, it has also been referred to as a 'mighty head' 'bald god' as also a 'gods head', by a few. The Chinese in their spoken language often refer to it as Cho Ya.

Cho Oyu was first noticed during the British Trignometrical Survey of the Himalaya. Unlike mountains like Everest, which were allotted a peak number for reference by the British India Survey, Cho Oyu was not assigned a number till quite late. It was initially allotted a reference as Peak T 45, but later changed to MI. The mountain was first photographed by the first British Everest Reconnaissance Expedition, led in 1921 by Lt Col Charles Howard Bury. They photographed the mountain from the west and the north west faces and approached the massif from the Tibetan plateau. In 1951, a British expedition led by Eric Shipton was the first to carry out a reconnaissance and explore the approaches to the mountain from the east in Nepal. In 1952, a British team again under Shipton attempted the mountain from the west. They crossed the Nangpa la with George Lowe and Edmund Hillary reaching a high point of 6800 m on the northwest face of the mountain.

The mountain was finally climbed by an Austrain (Herbert Tichy) team in 1954. Tichy, despite being frost bitten reached the summit on 19 October, along with Sherpa Passang Dawa Lama. They literally outran the Swiss team of Raymond Lambert and Claude Kogan, in a close race to the summit. In 1958, an Indian expedition (K.F. Bunshah) recorded the second ascent of the mountain, by repeating the route of the first climb. Tragically, India's prodigy Major Nandu Jayal died of pulmonary oedema during the expedition, nonetheless Sonam Gyatso along with Passang Dawa Lama reached the summit. In a tragic attempt on the mountain in 1959, four climbers were killed in an avalanche. Subsequently, the 3rd ascent of the mountain was made in 1964, by a German team (R.Rott), after which Cho Oyu went into hibernation for nearly a decade.

Cho Oyu is an all face mountain. The mountain overall in terms of routes and technical difficulty has some formidable climbing challenges to offer. From the north, the mountain was climbed by a Yugoslavian team (Roman Robos) and a Spanish team in 1988 and 1996, respectively. The Poles in the winter of 1985 and the Soviets 1991, climbed the east ridge. The south west ridge was climbed in 1986 from the Gyabrag glacier by a Polish team in 1986 and repeated by an International team in 1993. Wojtek Kurtyka, Erhard Loretan, Jean Troillet pioneered another route on this majestic face. Reinhold Messner, in 1983 after having failed to climb the south east face of the mountain in winter, climbed a part new route on the south west face, along with Michl Dacher and Hans Kammerlander, in alpine style. His route, which led him atop his tenth eight thousander was repeated by a Czech women's team in 1984. In Feb 1985, a strong Polish team, which included the legendary Polish climber Jerzy Kukuczka, made the first winter ascent of the mountain, which was also the first winter ascent of an eight thousander. The first solo winter asccnt of Cho Oyu was made by Fernando Garrido of Spain in 1988. While Carlos Buhler in 1989 made the ascent from the west ridge, in a remarkable effort in 1988 Yoshitomi Ohkura of Japan successfully paraglided from the summit of Cho Oyu. An Indian Army team (Lt Col Anand Swaroop) made the second Indian ascent of the mountain in 2006, from the northwest face. Cho Oyu thus over the years has become one one of the most popular eight thousanders to climb!

To my good luck in 2009, there was an Indian team attempting Cho Oyu. I spoke to the leader of the expedition, A.K. Tripathi fondly called 'Trip' who most graciously, agreed to let me climb alongside his team. For me, the change of scenario from the Shamshabad airport of Hyderabad to the Tribhuvan airport at Kathmandu, could not have been more dramatic and glaring, especially in tenns of time, landscape and environment. Leaving Hyderabad on 17 April, I reached Kathmandu on 19 April. Kathmandu, the world expedition capital has always been one of my favourite destinations. In spite of the political tunnoiI and the city reeling under 12 to 16 hours ofload shedding, with long unending ques for petrol and k'oil, the city retained its vibrancy with smiling hardy faces. It was wonderful meeting old friends and Sherpas and reviving old ties. It was also heartening to see that the top climbing equipment and clothing brands of the world were well showcased and could now be picked off the shelfin Thamel. the heart of Kathmandu.

On 25 April after getting my visa I reached Kodari, the joumey to which was through the lush green valleys of Nepal. The Indian team which I was to join, was more than 10 days ahead, so here I was on my own, trying to catch up with them from the word go! After finishing fonnalities at the border, I crossed the historic Friendship Bridge into the waiting Chinese customs, where I met my liaison officer Li, from the Chinese Tibetan Mountaineering Association at Zhangmou, who was to accompany me to the base camp. Zhangamou, gateway to Tibet is a one street town. Choked with buildings, concrete and Land Cruisers, it was bustling with people. At Ganggyan Hotel, a landmark for expeditions, I bumped into Dorjee, our LO in 2005 for Shisha Pangama. Over cups of Jasmine tea, I caught up with his exploits over the past few years. The fact that there was no expedition to Shisha Pangma in 2009, was revealed during our conversation.

The Friendship Highway was under extensive maintenance, repair and widening of the road was in full progress. Therefore, movement from Zhangmou to Nyalam and onward to Dingri was mostly by night. I must confess that driving through the Tibetan plateau by moon light was an exhilarating experience. I reached Dingri on 26 April and finally the base camp of Cho Oyu, which is a drive in camp located at 4710 m, on 27 April.

On 28 April, I walked southwards along the Kyetrak river on a newly cut road alignment. As I walked by myself, I was smitten by the silence, the crisp air and the incredible mountain world around — it was like Alice in Wonderland! Crossing mounds of recessional moraine of the Kyetrak glacier, I reached Gyedrak Ckyetrak at 5200 m. Finally after 5 hrs ofa good acclimatisation walk, I reached Dabong camp (intermediate advance base camp) located on the eastern lateral moraine of the glacier at 5200 m. I was delighted to be that evening, in the company of two Romanian guides, who were acclimatising. This was their second night at the camp.

From Dabong camp, I crossed the West Palung glacier which emanates from the northwest of Cho Oyu, and reached Gyablung located at 5600 m, traditionally the old base camp of the mountain. Finally, after a splendid solitary walk in of6 hours on the eastern lateral moraine of the Gyabrag glacier, I reached the ABC on 29 April, located at 5700 m.

The ABC of Cho Oyu from the west is located to the south of Peak 6395 m. Already eight international teams were occupying the camp. As I walked into the ABC, I saw the northern profile of the historic Nangpa la, which is intricately linked to the history of the mountain. Even today, the pass serves as a vital link between Nepal and Tibet and is a witness to many events and activities. Some 2 km west of the Nangpa la, the Mahalangur Himal turns abruptly south and runs for almost 5 km towering above the Nangpa glacier in Nepal. At ABC, I finally caught up with the Indian team, to a wann welcome. The team had made good progress. Camp 1 had been occupied and Camp 2 had been established. On 2 May, the team concentrated at ABC, after members acclimatising at Camp 1 returned to ABC.

On 5 May, I moved up to Camp 1 along with Trip and Rawat. We moved from ABC on the Gyabrag glacier, after crossing the junction of the west and the north west glaciers, to gain the west face of Pt 6446 m. Camp 1 was established on the continuation of the northwest ridge of Cho Oyu, at 6400 m. On 6 May, Rawat and I commenced moving to Camp 2. As we moved up the northwest ridge of the mountain, we had some great views of the Tibetan plateau towards the north and northwest. Past midday the winds had picked up on the upper reaches of the face forcing, us to retreat to Camp 1.

On 10 May, the first summit party moved up to occupy Camp 2. The team moved up amidst growing concerns of deteriorating weather and wind conditions. The route from Camp I was along with northwest ridge to the great northwest face of the mountain. Almost half way upto Camp 2, a 50 m high ice wall was negotiated, which is the most prominent climbing landmark on Cho Oyu. Camp 2 was finally occupied by 5 members and 6 Sherpas on 10 May 09 at 7000 m, after a grueling 10 hour ascent.

Team one was to attempt the summit on 11 May 09, but by the evening of 10 May, the weather had further deteriorated. There was heavy precipitation at all camps on the mountain, making the upper reaches of the mountain unsafe. 12 members and Sherpas of the team in four tents were confined at Camp 2. In all, a total of 30 climbers from different teams were virtually held as captives by the weather, as the wind gods relentlessly pounded the mountain with full fury. The summit attempt was finally aborted. Even a safe descent at a stage had become critical. On 12 May, as the winds abated, after a sleepless night the team descended to Camp 1 and finally to ABC. On 13 May, the team concentrated at ABC.

The weather even after this, kept up to its unpredictable form. On 14 May, the mountain was again lost in a veil of thick clouds. With the predicfion, that adverse weather conditions were going to continue unabated and with approaching deadlines of travel and permission, the leader called off any further attempt on the mountain. Although it was only the middle of May, the Sherpas predicted the climbing period on Cho Oyu as over. Finally, after a long eventful joumey to Dingri and Kodari, the team reached Kathmandu.

Looking back on the events which unfolded on Cho Oyu in the summer of 2009, I can only say that the turquoise goddess had been kind. Personally for me, this was the least amount of time that I had spent on an eight thous·ander. Yet the dash from Hyderabad to Cho Oyu had not been in vain. My precious eamed leave had been well spent. Valuable experience was gained and the lessons leamt, were well driven home by the mountain.

We were there, but not quite! Perhaps it was so ordained ... it was the mountain beyond reach!

SUMMARY

An attempt on Cho Oyu (8201 m) by an Indian anny team in May 2009.

 

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