So, I am here at Sankri, tired after a 10-hour journey by bus from Dehradun late at night, removing my shoes as a part of respect to enter the Indian homestay we booked for the night. At this moment, I see a man standing in the dark, with dim lights from the stained-glass window hitting small parts of his face, certainly not enough for me to be able to structure it. As he walked closer slowly with something in his hand, I had the urge to take a few steps back, when he finally gave me a breather- “Dear, do you need any water? You must be tired now. Here, have some.” as he stretched out his slightly shivering arms towards me with a tray- worn out and scratched towards the handle with a cup made up of steel, which reminded me of how in a typical Indian childhood, they only get served water in those to avoid accidents by the glass. As I sip on that glass of the sweet and salty borewell water, I get to know that this person is the owner of the homestay, Mr Balbir Singh Rawat, who prefers for everyone to call him “mamaji” which typically means uncle from mum’s side, leaving it for me to feel like an incomplete welcome hug.
The retired Himalayan culture researcher runs this homestay with his wife, whom we called “mamiji”, meaning aunt/ mother’s sister-in-law. The humble couple started this homestay almost 20 years ago where the mamiji makes the food from the organic vegetables that are fondly grown and cultivated by mamaji himself. “We are passionate to have people come over and stay with us, we work as a team, but he is the one who sneakily rests more”, mamiji jokes while we sit on adequately heated pillows on the floor of their kitchen in a circle of 10 strangers, with searing food kept right in front of us, and we wait for the rotis while the room fills with the aroma of fresh Indian spices and endless flavours in a tightly packed room, with no space for the chilly air outside.
At this point, we are at 6000 feet above sea level, with a clear view of the Himalayas and clusters of tiny similar looking houses with sloping roofs, from any corner of their wooden cottage, made of pinewood, that is covered with lots of colourful plastic sheets to block the snow from entering inside. A nice little walk in
the ill-structured path made up of a local grey stone in the radius of their house became necessary after the soul-filling meal. It was then when I noticed a group of black bears walk past us from a distance, in the darkness of the woods, while the only light out there was that of the moon and a bizarre number of stars in the sky. With very obvious shooting stars swiftly moving across from one corner to another, it gave us scary chills yet much enthusiasm for the rest of the trip.
Starting the trek at 8 am, well-rested and satiated, as is suggested for the walk. The trip leader, Mr Shubham, verbally distributed instructions and dos and don’ts to the group as we walked through the forest of colossal pine trees and cedar. Every step through the narrow, muddy and slippery forest, with the April sun, peeking through the woods and the leaves of the trees, felt like being stuck in a maze, blindly following the wise adult to get out of it. The higher we get, the clearer our panoramic views become. Walking through the melted ice mixed with mud with the slopes only getting higher, the rest time felt like water for a fish that has been out for too long. At 3000 feet above the base camp Sankri, we reach a place to put our tents out at the Juda ka Talab basecamp. It is a frozen lake with a really thick sheet of ice, transparent enough to get a glimpse of the water flowing beneath. An hour and a half later, we sat together, sipping some warm lemon tea while being surrounded by piles of snow that looked like the tiny Himalayas and talked about the garbage we saw on the way. With an intense discussion, we decided to pick up all the trash we saw on our way in a jute bag, in which we got our snacks.
It kept getting colder with time and we were joined by the local caterers for food arrangements. Inside a tent with much more ventilation, two men dressed in just a heavy jacket and a woollen cap on their heads were constantly chopping and cooking away ingredients after ingredients, only for us to consume the healthiest meals during this trek, while we sat and simply wondered how they weren't feeling cold enough. Everything that was happening, even the smallest of things brought us a step closer to sustainability. Constant discussions with the rest of the people around me kept igniting thoughts inside my head about making this an extremely sustainable trip. Luckily, it is a trek had cleared out the need to hire any vehicles, but who can stop the visitors from trashing even after being told not to, in every way possible.
Relishing the meals like lentils, cottage cheese cooked in gravy, full of lots of fresh herbs and spices, made on chulha, a small fireplace made up of bricks and dried local wood that burns quickly, is the most common way to cook in Indian villages (also happens to be a sustainable alternative to gas), and experiencing shadows of countless wild animals under the same moon and stars from the night before, except this time, we were a lot closer.
I woke up to perhaps one of the last few snowfalls for the season, with diminutive snowflakes stuck to my hair reminding me of the starry night I witnessed just a few hours back. After freshening up and doing some stretching, we decided to move further. As we walked through different seasons and temperatures while only elevating ourselves from the sea level, the snow on the way became dense. Before we knew it, it started snowing heavily with monstrous winds slapping my face as we continued walking for 4 km. With this, we reach the last base camp before our destination, the peak.
The Kedarkantha base camp was slightly relieving as it was a much more challenging trail than last time, and the active barrier was the knee-high snow, through which we had to walk. We are now at a height of 11000 feet above sea level and could easily see cotton candy shaped like clouds to be beneath us, sprinkling what looked like glitter dust falling over the mountains on lower altitudes. As it got darker quickly, the sounds of wild animals howling to the moon, gave me chills down my spine. Trying to spy on the situation, I see a group of three full-sized wolves walking past our bathroom tents, because of which I had to immediately close my tent, as per the instructions.
“You are evading their space, if you respect them, they will coexist with you, if not, you are responsible for your own self,” says Mr Ram, one of the catering staff. He has been working as a catering chef for 80 groups of trekkers so far in the same area. We sip on the masala tea that he made for us while he describes situations where he had seen the wild animals taking away people who were messing around with them. “Let not your fear stop you”, says Mr Shubham, while he notices us get scared over Ram’s statements.
Late at night, at around 4 am, we leave for the Kedarkantha summit in a sleepy condition after sleeping for just 4 hours in total. As clear as the air was when we started, the level of oxygen kept going down the higher we went. Crossing risky and extremely narrow pathways to climb mountains didn’t feel like the most ideal thing to do at that time, but I secretly wished for it to get better and kept moving. The entire crew was ready with an oxygen tank for anyone who felt hypoxemic. After 4.5 hours of continuous mountain climbing, we finally reached the summit and breathed the freshest air of our lives. As I just absorbed the air in my system, the sound of wind echoes so loud in my ears, almost as if it was cheering and applauding me for this accomplishment. While a tear rolls down my cheek, I embrace the birth of a new, sustainable me.
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