Unknown Arunachal

First Expedition to the Source of the Sar Di River, Arunachal Pradesh

Amar Deo Singh

We sprinted up a steep vegetated hillside; puling heavily on branches and grabbing at tree trunks. I gasped at the thin air at nearly 4000 m above sea level. My heart pounded wildly and head felt like it was going to explode. I stopped every few minutes and doubled over, wheezing for air. We had one hour to spare, only one hour to make it to a place where no one had ever been before. And we had only one chance at this, as both time and our supplies were running out. We had to put everything into this final push.

Huge spruce and fir trees towered over us, their branches drooping, heavily loaded with moss and dripping with long tendrils of old man’s beard. My boots sank into the ground, soft as a mattress, covered with a deep layer of moss. I swung my machete at the thickets of rhododendron to hack a path through the dense undergrowth. There were no paths here. There was no record of anyone ever venturing this deep into this part of the mountains.

We were following the Sar Di river (also referenced as Sal Ti and Sar Ti river) to its source, deep in a remote corner of the Eastern Himalaya in Arunachal Pradesh. We crisscrossed the river a number of times before reaching the final obstacle in our path – a series of waterfalls.

I clamoured over the lip of the final waterfall and could finally see the source, a lake, in the distance. It had taken years of planning and now I was finally there. I practically sprinted the final 20 metres to the shores of the lake and stood, hands on my hips, gasping for breath by the pristine shores of Lake Sar Di.

Steep mountainsides swept up from the lake edge to unnamed 6000 m summits. Lake Sar Di was like an emerald jewel set in granite, its clear placid waters dropping away steeply into dark unfathomed depths. I could see across to the far side where the glaciated valley climbed steadily leading to the border with Myanmar.

I felt a rush of pleasure as I took a moment to realise: we were the first humans to have the privilege to stand at this enchanted place. Unfortunately we didn’t have much time to spare. We had four hours of daylight and as much time to trek back to camp through trackless forest. I took one final glance before bounding off across the boulders to join my companions

Our 'Secret Compass' team had flown in from all over the world on a warm October evening in Delhi. While we were from very varied professional backgrounds: IT specialist, financial analyst, ex-soldier, mining electrician etc; we shared the one thing that had brought us together: a quest for adventure. Our aim was to follow the Sar Di river to its source in the Eastern Himalaya near the border with Myanmar.

We caught a flight to Dibrughar, then boarded a couple of SUVs and hit the road. It was the tail end of the monsoon and heavy grey clouds darkened the skies. The air was muggy and thick. Our heavily laden vehicles drove at breakneck speed through small towns and villages, swerving wildly to avoid cows, chickens, goats, cyclists, trucks and all manner of potentially deadly obstacles. The driver grinned broadly, displaying his beetlenut-red teeth, as the intrepid adventurers oohed and ahhed in terror at the near misses.

The driver grinned broadly, displaying his beetlenut-red teeth, as the intrepid adventurers oohed and ahhed in terror at the near misses.

On the second day we drove for over ten hours till we reached the trailhead just past Walong at garam Pani, near the chinese border. It was late in the evening and already pitch dark. We unloaded our gear and stacked the bags in an empty room of a half-finished guesthouse.

In the morning the people from the local village, Dong, turned up to offer their services as porters. Sorry, did i say offer? They demanded that we employ them for twice the regular rate. The negotiations started off very aggressively. They shouted their demands, gesticulating wildly with their arms. The shouting and negotiations continued till late into the afternoon. We weren’t getting anywhere. eventually i agreed to the outrageous terms and we shouldered our packs and filed down the trail.

The trek started in a deep gorge; its steep slopes were covered in thick subtropical jungle draped in vines and the roar of the river echoed off granite cliffs. The track petered out into a faint game trail used by the occasional local hunter. We scrambled over broken ground; sometimes dropping down to the rounded boulders along the river and then climbing into the thick jungle on the hillsides and along the tops of vegetated cliff. The route crisscrossed the Sar Di valley a number of times and we had to cross the wild river on some of the sketchiest bridges I have ever seen. They were rude constructions made either of single logs or a couple of bamboos lashed together with vines which flexed and wobbled under our weight.

Later that afternoon we had made it to a suitable campsite, a sandy spot between some large river boulders – the only flat spot in this narrow valley.

We rose with the sun next morning, packed quickly and after a breakfast of sweetened porridge and cups of chai, entered the jungle once again. The route was much the same as the day before: tough going through sections of jungle, then down to the boulders along the river, then scrambling up steep sections of exposed roots and rocks.

Over the next few days we continued to hack our way through the jungle following the river through a variety of vegetation belts as we climbed higher into the mountains. Tall spruce and fir trees replaced the broad-leafed trees of the lower reaches. Most noticeable was the absence of vines, which had become the bane of our existence, tangling on our gear and pulling us back.

The Sar Di, our constant companion, roared by our side; rapids gave way to waterfalls as the terrain steepened. The trekking varied between grades of difficult, serious and deadly. We waded through waist high ferns, often having to crawl under or clamour over fallen trees.

While sorting through the supplies and reordering loads at camp everyday we discovered that the porters had been indulging in wholesale theft of our supplies. By the fifth day it was obvious that the porters had stolen so much food that they had almost compromised the expedition. They had eaten through all their supplies and then stolen nearly a week’s supply of food from our bags. I divided the remaining supplies into loads and retained only five of the porters and sent the rest back down the valley with all nonessential equipment. We had about another week’s worth of food; just enough to get us to the source of the river and back.

We climbed through pine forest with dense undergrowth of bamboo and stunted rhododendron trees. At 3500 m the valley flattened out and broadened into a textbook u-shaped glaciated valley. It was great to have a broad expanse of sky above our head after the days spent in the claustrophobic confines of the gorge and jungle.

We were out of the trees but the struggle was far from over. The forest continued all the way to nearly 4000 m. The forest was now broken into thickets interspersed with large spaces of dense undergrowth. The river, now considerably smaller, was strangely silent as it meandered its way through the broad flat valley. After only a few hours’ walk we set up camp and had the afternoon off. It was a good opportunity to let our bodies acclimatise.

We rose early the next morning as we aimed to make our way to the source of the Sar Di at around 3700 m and make it back to camp before dark. It was a lot easier travelling light but the virgin jungle was much more dense.

By around lunchtime we still hadn’t reached the source, which I calculated to be only six kilometres from camp. The dense undergrowth had impeded our progress and route finding was very difficult. My GPS indicated that we were only a kilometre away from the source and by my estimates we only had an hour to spare. We made a decision to travel as fast as possible and turn around in exactly an hour, whether we made it or not. We synchronised our watches and tore off up the mountain. I described this section at the start of the piece.

We made it back to camp just as night was falling. The cook had a roaring campfire and a hot meal waiting. Bellies full, we lay by a roaring campfire and stared in silence into the flames till late.

After a solid night’s sleep we woke to a snow-blanketed landscape; heavy clouds and mist hung low in the valley. The porters started to pack the camp without asking us. I was puzzled as we were planning to stay for at least another day. They just snapped at me and said they were off down the valley to a lower camp. After much argument I had no choice but to agree to head back with them.

I fixed a meeting place and told them to go ahead. Maila Chetri, one of the porters, stayed behind with us. We hurriedly packed our gear and followed in their footsteps. After a few hours of trekking through the snow we got to the waterfall and scrambled down to the campsite; cold, wet and hungry. This was where we were supposed to meet but there was no sign of the porters. I thought they might have gone a bit lower to another spot.

But when we got to the second campsite there was no sign of the porters. At that moment I went cold, I realised they had abandoned us. They had taken off with all our food and kitchen gear. We were four-day’s walk away from civilisation and all we had in the way of food were the trail snacks we carried in our packs.

Luckily Maila had stayed behind with us. I hurriedly unzipped his bag and found, to my immense relief, a couple of bags of pasta, an assortment of muesli bars and a few packets of soup. That coupled with our personal trail snacks would ensure that we could just about make it back. We wolfed down a couple of muesli bars and headed further down the valley. The forest and the mountains, whose majesty we had revered on the trek in, now loomed over us like a predator watching our every move; waiting for us to make just one mistake.

The next day a few hours into our hike down the valley we spotted a couple of figures along the riverbank far in the distance. At first we thought it was one of the porters but then we noticed he was walking upstream, towards us. When we met up, we learnt they were from another village further down the valley and explained that they were looking for a hunter who had got lost in the forest. I asked if they had seen any of the porters, who were from a rival clan. They had indeed passed them a day ago. They said we were most welcome to join them at their campsite a couple of hour’s hike downstream.

When we arrived at the campsite the rescue team very generously presented us with a two-kilo bag of rice and refused to accept any payment. We gifted them a torch in exchange. It was good to be in the company of friendly hospitable people.

The next morning we bade farewell to our hosts and marched off into the jungle; spurred on by the thought that we’d be sipping a beer by the evening.

We hacked our way out of the gorge just as the sun was setting. Elated to be out of the jungle and back on easy ground, we bonded for a bit of backslapping and posed for group photos. Everyone profusely thanked Maila for sticking by our side.

We pounded out the last few kilometres back along a village track to the roadhead at Garam Pani. I couldn’t wait to get the heavy pack off my shoulders and savour a bottle of Kingfisher; sometimes dreams do come true!

Summary
A trek to unknown lake Sar Di in the eastern Arunachal in 2014.

Leader: Amar Deo Singh
Members: Joseph Pizer, glen Downton, Duncan grossart, Stine keyes, corey Price, Steve Brown
Start point - Roadhead at Garam Pani, 8 km north of Walong, near Dong village, Lohit valley
Final Point - Lake Sar Di 3750 m Distance travelled - 70 km return
Camp 1 - 1250 m, Camp 2 - 1600 m, Camp 3 - 2300 m, Camp 4 - 2800 m, Camp 5 - 3550 m
Organised by Secret Compass Expeditions, UK

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