The Adventures(?) of a Reluctant Trekker

Because someone suggested something similar and I'm at a loose end. Or something like that, anyway. The Trek mentioned below is the grandly-named National Himalayan Trekking Expedition 2013-14, Sandakphu-Gurdum, organized by the Youth Hostels Association of India; hereafter known as YHAI.

Disclaimer: This is a long post and will eventually be supplemented with pictures to make it less tl;dr. When I get them from the people who'd been taking them.

Day One:

We land in Darjeeling and it is effing cold. 

ONE picture with my dahling brother to commemorate. The concert stage in the background, if anyone cares.

We make very good time from Bagdogra airport via Kurseong, where we eat some okay-ish momos and I give fried momos a trial run--they are epic! and I solemnly swear to eat them again as soon as I can.

The heritage Himalayan Railway has no tickets for us, fortunately or unfortunately. It is a slow diesel engine which criss-crosses the road and follows along it for most of the way, so I don't feel like we've missed anything. In contrast, the cab journey is comfortable and quick. I meet people for the first time(they meet me too :D ) and everything is going swimmingly so far. Registration takes almost no time and we set off to explore the streets of Darjeeling.

Mall road is pedestrian-only and crowded with shawl, sweater and souvenir(or 'curio') shops. And, of course, with people. At the square at the end of the road is a concert organized through the Darjeeling Tea and Tourism Festival; there are a lot of people watching and listening, also singing and dancing(a little too merrily, if you ask me ;) ). ((I buy a book, a collection of Roald Dahl short stories to entertain myself.)) A wrong turning leads us down the road to the kabristan. Everyone is a bit spooked at this.

We finish off the evening with exactly 15 minutes of Dhoom 3, more than enough for me(Funny story there :D :D) and get some dinner/sleep.

Day Two:

We walk up and down a lot.

Us being all orderly and in line and all. Really.   Pic courtesy: Parin

We wake at a quarter to six, a respectably early time. Hot tea is welcome(I don't realize yet exactly how welcome it will be in the days to come). We jog up to the square and do some stretching, during which the (mean >.<) base camp leader gives us some good solid advice about acclimatization.

Then we get some hot kheer(yum) and the first in a long line of deep-fried foods, before we see off the day's group. One-two-one-two-three! Our hands are hurting from the clapping by the time all 45-odd people have crossed us. Back to the hostel hotel for breakfast, after which we are dragged hither and thither against our wills by the base camp leader, who keeps yelling and even threatens bodily harm at one point(credit someone else :D). Apparently the spirit of Christmas Day is lost on him :P.

We have some rather nice momos and tea at the intersection of the roads leading to the Japanese temple and St. Paul's. There's a verry verry interesting whistle.(And a verry verry steep climb up to some school where some movie was shot).

The afternoon is uneventful- some shopping and these really cool ribbons which can be simply pulled upwards to make pretty bows for the 'Christmas presents' we buy. My own present was a Kinder Joy(with Surprise! See my post on Joy).

In the night we eat at Glenary's, which has good food and probably deserves its reputation. We're a little worried about breaking a healthy proportion of YHAI rules --and with good reason. We write an apology letter and get yelled at some more. Sleep follows.

Day Three:

We're finally off. Some teething problems.

Above the clouds. Is that Kanchenjunga?! 

We wake, eat breakfast, pack and are applauded off by the next group. It's about an hour and a half to the start of the trek at Dhotrey. There are some more momos waiting for us here, and (possibly more importantly) our guides.

We set off and everyone realizes simultaneously that they're wearing too many layers. Slowly the outer ones come off and disappear into rucksacks. As the day goes on, some of us note that our backpacks are too full of useless junk(not me, though. Really :P.) 

This first day is around 8 kilometres, six more or less upwards to Tonglu and the last two gently sloping downwards to our first camp. The climb is gruelling for someone who has never walked so much((carrying some 7 kilos)). Not tiring, oh no, I'm too reluctant a trekker to ever get tired, but breathing problems abound at higher altitudes, and I keep stopping, ostensibly to admire the scenery, but really to control my breathing and try to stop panting. I'm pretty much the last to arrive at Tonglu, our highest point of the day.

Eventually, as the sun is setting, we reach Tumling camp, gaining some wonderful views of the Zonga(That's Kanchenjunga to the uninitiated ;) ). Soup is followed by warming our hands at the fireplace, which is followed by coffee and the 'Campfire', basically a programme in which we entertain ourselves. I'm slightly sick, but gather that everyone is playing Dumb charades, and having a good time, too.

Day Four:

Worst. Trekking Day. Ever.

It's a relief to see the Kali(black) pokhri(lake).   Pic courtesy: Vigi

The night is uncomfortably cold, and so is coffee and breakfast. We set off to yet another speech; this is routine, and we'll be cheering every day at eight(maybe slightly later, depending on everyone's punctuality)

The Tumling camp leader wasn't kidding when he talked about ups and downs. We're just not prepared for two horrible, horrible kilometres uphill after eight fairly-decent kilometers straight but get by somehow. But at lunch, we know the worst is over, and have a nice, peaceful 4 kilometre walk to the next camp. This is the most fun we have that day, skirting several hills and keeping our destination, Kalapokhri, in sight for long periods. Or maybe I'm having fun because someone in our little group is making funny noises at the distance we apparently still have left(sorry :/)

At Kalapokhri, we see the sacred lake(pond? water source?) and get yelled at for not sticking together --like a family! A 50-people-long, disciplined family. We hang around outside as the winds buffet us. I'm feeling rather sorry for myself by the time the whole exchange is done. We huddle around some coals which feel good after the freezing cold wind. There is a very-ahem!-spirited game of Antakshari before dinner, and then it's time to retire for the night. I get no sleep, yet again. Other people also have no luck.

Day Five:

The final uphill stretch.

Steeeep.   Pic courtesy: Parin

We are a little jittery about the last six kilometres to Sandakhphu; it's what we've all been waiting for, etc etc. Also, the previous night hasn't been good for sleeping, what with the winds howling outside like banshees and witches.

But the distance gets eaten up quickly enough; and we barely have time to get really tired by the time we see the top. Sadly, the clouds have been accumulating near the mountains, and almost nothing can be seen of the Zonga.

That last stretch seems endless, with Sandakphu always in sight but never within reaching distance. There is no redeeming scenery since the clouds descended, either. We reach in time for lunch, and are promptly kicked out and told to come back by 5.

Singing is fun, and singing songs I actually know the lyrics to is fun-er. I barely even feel cold once we head back for some tea and pakoras. Before dinner is what everyone jokingly calls the Camp Candle--which is exactly what it sounds like, a candle instead of a campfire. Horror stories are told and everyone feels a shiver at the thought of a red eye staring back through a crack in the wall. Various other psychopaths and monsters haunt my dreams. However, at least I'm (finally) (actually) getting some rest.

Interlude:

Sunrise at Sandakphu.

Awesome pic by Jagannath, who takes awesome pics anyhow. Admire the beauty. I say to you, admire it.

At Sandakphu, I am determined not to miss the sunrise: never mind that I haven't seen a single one so far.

And I'm glad I woke up, no matter how much the cold bites my poor fingers and toes. The sunrise over the mountains cannot be missed. It is one of the best experiences I've had so far, and I crave experiences, so it was all worth it, every single minute.

I don't have the words to describe the colours and, simply, the feel. Amazing, it was. The Zonga was incredible, all of the mountain ranges were incredible, and so was Everest.

Going back to tea and breakfast is a regret-filled task.

Day Six:

We're going down. No, really.

We more or less skip downhill(at least, I do :P) for thirteen kilometres, with some more wonderful views, of valleys and mountains and little hamlets halfway down mountains. I hear some interesting conversation and watch a name being scratched into a nearby rock.

Finally, we reach Gurdum, slightly late for lunch. ((I finally find the time to read that book but nod off after two stories)) In relief, I sleep for 12 hours straight, and would sleep some more if we didn't have to leave in a mere half-hour. 

Apparently, everyone else does something Campfire- and dinner-related; but I can't be sure, as I am dead to the world during that entire time.

Day Seven:

I bid my comfy bed in Gurdum farewell and move off.

Beside the river. Hypnotising.   Pic courtesy: Parin

We go down through some rather pretty forest trails, before reaching a river. The river is a-ma-zing, and I am tempted to stay on the first bridge I come to, staring at the hypnotizing eddies and currents below my feet.

Of course, that's not strictly allowed, and I tear myself away from the wonderful mountain river, with its smooth stones and white caps, to continue along a straight-ish trail that's crossed several times over with little clear streams, all leading to the main river. The river-sound makes for a wonderful soundtrack for the first part of the trek.

Eventually, we come to the scary, shaky rope bridge which is supposed to hold only three people at a time, two of which are usually posing for a photograph. Everyone crosses this way and then runs down to the riverbank, balancing on various rocks on the way.

We wait for the last group to cross on the rocks.((I have my story-telling skills insulted. I hope this blog post doesn't suffer the same fate >.<))

A little ahead of the rope bridge is the place where we have lunch: another opportunity to connect to the beautiful river, and some really nice khichdi. The last few kilometres are much fun; we see some nice views of the various valleys, we also sing some more, and talk and dawdle and generally enjoy ourselves. There's no painful uphill/downhill. This is the (trekking) life. We reach Rimbik.

There's a felicitation ceremony that's almost slipped our minds, but we're just in time for it. We listen to a lot of speeches, some suggestions for improvements(more exercises?! The horror!) and are given medals and certificates. One gala dinner later, it's time for bed and happy dreams.

Epilogue:

Still a reluctant trekker. Had infinite fun on this trek. Was a bit like prison, lots of rules, but I'm guessing that's why the trek was so peaceful, because everyone had to listen and most everyone did.

Made a new friend or two; had a blast for New Year's in Darjeeling. Couldn't have imagined a better way to spend the last week of 2013. :)

Do I want to go trekking again?

No.

Will I go trekking again?

There's a high probability that I will.

Will I enjoy it?

But of course.