Triund :: © 2010 Rohit Chaudhary

Triund is like a Friday night. You can very well see what is ahead and you know what you have just left behind. The tingling of a cool weekend to look forward to and the madding week left behind. We all know what that feels like. And Triund feels just like that.

Triund is that more-than-welcome flat bit of land at 2890 metres, and it sure makes you work hard to get there. You can get there only by walking, and just a few shortcuts are allowed. Let me correct myself there, the shortcuts aren’t allowed, they must be looked for, and must be analysed for their eventual benefits. And then you can decide to take them, if you must.

You would encounter a lot of two-way traffic enroute to Triund. Some would politely overtake you, some making a lot of unnecessary noise but not really making any headway and also those that greet you. As on any other journey, these passersby’s make for good conversation topics with your other co-travellers.

To set your sight on the destination can be a good way to beat any Monday-morning-blues you might be facing. A quick but bone-jangling auto ride from Dharamkot might also lessen the number of kilometres you have to walk by one and a half. This auto journey might just be the scariest one ever (valid till they construct a pakka road).

Since a good way to commence a journey is by getting some blessings on your side, you could go and ring some bells at the Galu temple, beyond which no vehicle will be willing to take you. From here on in, you start, on an uphill journey, on foot.

The path either goes flat or up. The flat parts are pretty hard to come by, and hence a considerable amount of time is spent on them: taking breaks, enjoying the view, discussing how much of the trek is left etc. The HPCA stadium is your constant companion throughout the trek, since its recent addition to the Dharamsala geography.

The views are spectacularly plain, cause all you see are the plains. On a lucky day, as was ours, you can catch a glimpse of the Pong Dam reservoir, in the Kangra valley. It is a huge lake that also doubles up as a well known wildlife sanctuary. A few scattered hazy hills can be seen, but they don’t lend any beauty to the landscape at all. Of course, for those with a love for concrete jungles it might be a wonderful view.

If you walk as fast as we did, then within 90 minutes you should be at the halfway point. There are a couple of dhabas, one of which is very famously knows as the Magic view Cafe. The newer one, with a ‘better’ view that looks directly at Triund is called Best View. I leave it to you to make the painful decision between magic or best. This being my 3^rd time at the half way point, and having firsthand experience with both, I chose the latter.  Have some drinks at double the cost of MRP and proceed to walk on.

Further the path is a lot of uphill task. It is continuously tilted at an angle ranging between 15 to 45. Never a 0. This is the part where the shortcuts are appealing, and you must keep out a keen eye for them. And some steady feet. Shortcuts have the known ability to cut your distance, but they also add the gift of danger.

Dhaba at Triund :: © 2010 Sriparna Ghosh

The last stretch takes your breath away, and so does the first view of Triund. They somehow compensate for each other and allow you to become a kid wanting to roll down the meadows. The Indrahar peak stands upto you. And in between the snowy ranges and you is that bit of grassy land called Triund, like a carpet of green, interspersed with tarpaulin blue dhabas. But dont be mistaken; there is a well hidden deep gorge that separates the meadows from the mountain up ahead.

Triund is like a Friday night. You can see the snowy peaks at stones throw and if you just spin at 180 degrees, the plains stare back mundanely at you.

How and what?

Triund is roughly 7 kms away from Dharamkot which lies another 2 kms above from Mcleodgunj, and that is 9 kms from Dharamsala. But people dont start their trek from Dharamsala, and it is only prudent to start from the Dharamkot. Those wanting to cut down further can also start from Galu temple.

Mcleodgunj is connected with Delhi through regular buses. The roadways buses are fairly frequent, while there are 2 deluxe options: TATA AC (Rs 735) and VOLVO (Rs 950). Tickets for the latter can be booked either from ISBT Kashmiri Gate or Himachal Bhawan, Mandi House.

If you prefer trains then you can catch an overnight train to Pathankot, from where there are plenty of vehicular options available.

If you prefer airplanes, you should probably go to Goa.

There is plenty to do at Triund and nothing at all, depending on your choice. You can eat, drink, read, walk, trek further, hang out with sheep,  click photographs, eat, roll on the grass, ride a unicycle (one of the tourists actually did that), sit by the bonfire and gaze at the numerous stars. Or you could just borrow a blanket from the dhaba and laze around indefinitely.

I highly recommend you spend at least one night up there instead of returning to civilisation the same day. It lets you enjoy both the walks and the stay.

Sheepathon :: © 2010 Sriparna Ghosh

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In taxi :: © 2010 Rohit Chaudhary

A group of 5 people set out to experience the desolate topography of North Sikkim. High on list is visiting the blue waters of Gurudongmar Lake, driving through the uninhabited Yumthang valley, and chilling under the winter sun at Lachen and Lachung, two main villages of North Sikkim. If the word count of the narrative below puts you off, maybe you could skip it and instead have a look at the pictures from this trip. Here is the flickr link.

Day 1

We are in New Jalpaiguri (NJP). Our train kept its promise with the official arrival time, 1100 hrs. We set out for the taxi stand in anticipation of reaching Gangtok early. It is the 29^th of December and yet it’s pleasant outside. We have the company of a Gangtok resident, who suggested we group up, to reduce the taxi fare. We were happy to oblige as she knows the language and is happy to do the negotiations. But things aren’t meant to be this easy. First, we learn about a bandh (for a separate state of Gorkhaland) from 12 to 5 pm, during which taxis won’t hit the roads. Instead of taking a taxi from NJP station, the local lady thought it would be wise to get one from Siliguri (half hour drive from NJP station), which has a bigger taxi stand. So, we set out for Siliguri (Rs 300 for an entire taxi). A good one hour ticks by in negotiating the price. Rs. 1800 is fixed for the front 2 rows of a Mahindra Maxx Jeep. And by the time our driver finds 4 more passengers for the last row, it’s already 2 ‘o clock. Once we are on the road, eventually, our driver tells us about the presence of middlemen (dalal) in Siliguri and NJP, who take their share from the drivers for getting passengers. Rs 600 from our fare went to the dalal’s pocket. And for some mysterious reason, which forces us to believe that maybe he too is a part of it all, the driver asks us to lie to anyone who comes asking about the fare; Rs. 140 (per person, for a total of 10 people) is what we have to ‘officially’ tell any inquirers.

We reach the bridge where the agitation (peaceful today) is supposed to be taking place. A few passer bys tell us about the status of the bandh and a driver of another jeep informs us about how the windshield of a jeep was thrashed to pieces earlier by a few agitators. Amidst all this confusion, the traffic starts crawling back to normalcy. Jams take over from bandh once the agitation is called off. Unwanted breaks take over from jam once the road is cleared, like fellow travelers on the last row announcing that they want an early dinner and our driver stopping to drop off a package to his home on the way. What should have been a smooth 3-4 hours’ ride ends up being a boring and tiring 8 hours’ drive.

Day 2

Mig-Tin, our hotel for one day and 2 nights, had caught our attention while looking up hotels in a guide book, not because of its description which wasn’t inspiring anyway, but due to its name. We had chosen the rooms on a long distance call and asked them to book the rooms with the best views. Thanking ourselves later on, as we went about the otherwise vacant hotel we realized that apart from the four walls we had been handed, rest of the hotel is pretty dingy and badly maintained. For the record, when we peeked from our window, we were in the middle of MG Road, the Switzerland of India, or so says the Chief Minister.

After an exciting and relaxed brunch at the wonderful Baker’s Café, and a meeting with our tour operator, we set out for the Namgyal Institute of Tibetology (at Deorali). This has to be the most interesting place to see while in Gangtok, as it is known for its renowned museum in Tibetan architecture. Memories from my last visit to Gangtok are still filled with slightly blurred visions of its passageways. But as we discover, unfortunately, the museum remains closed on Wednesdays. So, we move onto the Do-Drul Chorten, a couple of hundred metres ahead of the museum. And we are in for a complete shock! This place has become quite unrecognizable since our last visit, owing much of the ‘credit’ to an appalling new construction on the only side of the chorten, which was devoid of any human encroachment till now. If not for the distasteful urbanised surroundings, this place could be visited at least for the quaint walk that the road (from the ropeway) to the chorten offers. Rest of the afternoon and evening is spent in the back lanes of Deorali and later on checking out Lal market, the two main places to go shopping (apart from the usual and pricier MG marg).

Lal market in Gangtok :: © 2010 Rohit Chaudhary

Day 3

We reach the office of Sikkim Tours and Travels by 9 after a brisk breakfast. Mr. Lukendra Rasailly, owner of the company, informs us that our permit has been made and the driver has gone to fetch it from the tourist office. By the time we get to see the driver, it’s already 11 and our plans to leave early in the morning to travel leisurely have painfully disappeared. We wonder why he didn’t apply for the permit the day before, only to be told that permits have to be applied the same day. This can be attributed to the reason that since there are daily weather changes at the altitude we are going to, it is only logical to decide if travel is possible on a daily basis. And on top of that, he informs us of snowfall up in the north, for the last couple of days, which keeps us sufficiently busy speculating the chances of roads to the lake being blocked. Well, it’s quite difficult to fathom the probability of ending the trip (and the year) without a visit to the spectacular lake and we try not to think about it. By 11.30 pm we finally leave Gangtok.

The road beyond Chungthang splits into two. The one on the left goes onto Lachen and Gurudongmar Lake and the right one takes one to Lachung and Yumthang valley. And these are the areas that are inaccessible to people without permits. So, though you can visit places on the route ahead of Gangtok like Phensang, Phodong (lunch stop for people visiting north Sikkim through agencies) and Mangan (district headquarters of north Sikkim) without any permits, going ahead of Chungthang will need one. The Incredible India brochure on Lachen says, “Visitors making a trip to Lachen or nearby places are required to make their arrangements through registered tour and travel agents in Sikkim. Additionally, foreign nationals are required to travel in groups of 2 or more”. The roads in Sikkim are quite characteristic unlike anywhere else. Most of the highways here run into single lanes and the turns are dotted by huge wooden poles flanked with tall white prayer flags.

As we get closer to Lachen, we start spotting blocks of snow around the road. We try looking ahead in the valley towards our destination but it’s getting quite dark and we have to settle for our immediate surroundings. And it isn’t long before those chunks are gone and we find ourselves literally floating on snow. Quite a surreal sight it is; rocks, streams, trees, everything reclaimed by snow. Everyone in the jeep gets super excited, music is turned off and faces get glued to the window, trying hard to see what shimmering snow has to offer under the moon lit sky. A sharp turn and we enter the village, a village dotted with yellow bulbs hanging from the courtyards of lovely ‘white’ houses. It’s only 6 in the evening (took us 6.5 hours to get here) and we get ready to prepare ourselves for the long night ahead of us, the last night of the year.

Lachen in snow :: © 2010 Rohit Chaudhary

Day 4

It’s first of January in the New Year! All of us are in a hurry to get ready, for it’s the day we have all been waiting for; visit to the second highest lake of India and 15^thhighest in the world, according to an online source. Gurudongmar Lake, nestled at 17,100 feet (5135 metres) above MSL, is sacred to the people of three religions, for there is a stupa, a small Hindu temple and a Gurudwara, all looked after by a watchman (who lives there throughout the year, all by himself!). And supposedly, the speed of the winds at that altitude is so immense that you can barely hear others speak! Because of its altitude, weather tends to get unpredictable after noon, and staying beyond a certain time (sometime around 12-1 pm) is not allowed. The owner of Hotel Bayul (our hotel for 2 nights in Lachen) had told us this the previous night.

People leaving for Gurudongmar have to leave early; around 7 in the morning (one way to the lake takes around 4 hours roughly). But we are late by an hour, since neither the cook nor the driver woke up on time.

We haven’t left Lachen too far behind and some isolated houses of the village can still be seen down the valley on our right. After a sharp turn, just ahead of us, we see a parked jeep and its driver waving us not to go any further! Our driver parks right behind him. All of us get down. The two drivers have a word, walk down some steps on the road, come to a halt, and observe the road below them and down the valley. I can barely believe what’s going on. Others decide to make full use of the opportunity with all the snow around. Our driver signals me to join him. He shows me the road where he is standing and points out at the winding road down the valley. Most of the snow has now become ice because of the constant traffic of army vehicles and it’s extremely risky to move any further. Since jeeps are much lighter than, say, an army truck, chances of slipping and losing the balance on a road like this are very high. No amount of begging would convince our driver to move further to see if it’s really dangerous. Some minutes pass by observing silence.

A cavalcade of 3 jeeps approaches us, all stuffed to the brim with bengalees. Again a discussion takes place. And the new entrants decide they want to try out the road, which convinced our driver to follow them. We start moving slowly, certain that we will make it this time. A kilometer down the road and across a bridge, we stop again. We wait patiently and nervously. And then it is all over. The 3 jeeps in front of us take a u-turn and stop. Their passengers start falling out of the vehicle; shouts of excitement everywhere. One of them shouts at the top of his lungs, “What the hell! This is Gurudongmar, let’s play!” Our hearts sink. This is the farthest we go on this unfortunate day!

We spend an hour on the snow, trying to do stupid things with it, trying to revive the excitement of the trip. Once back at Lachen, we wonder what can be done with the rest of the day. A hike to the monastery overlooking the village seems the best option. We head for it.

The monastery is a busy place. Lots of people around, unusual for a monastery, except for on festivals. And it does turn out that preparations are being made for the annual monastic cham (mask dance). We spend a good hour here, under the pleasant sun, observing various chores being carried out. The 2 approach routes to the monastery make for an exciting glimpse of the village life. Little things, like a bucket under the continuously flowing tap, or fluttering prayer flags on every roof top, or plants surviving in blue colored desi ghee canisters, do something to you, not entirely possible to depict in words but easily felt once you are back in the comforts of the big cities.

Day 5

It’s 9 in the morning and we prepare to leave for Lachung. Almost all the snow has melted away. We wonder if any tourists will be going up to the lake today. Our driver confirms that no permits were issued yesterday.

We were told of an interesting story about the dynamics between Lachen and Lachung, during our stay in Lachen. A politician in the current ruling government of Sikkim comes from Lachung. He saw the much-favoured route to Gurudongmar Lake as a threat to the tourism industry in Lachung. So he got access to both the lakes (Tso Lhamu as well) barred, citing border sensitivity to divert the tourist inflow to his village. After a public outburst over this decision, the government was forced to open up one lake to tourists and locals. But still, it’s the politician who is considered the perceived reason for most agencies suggesting a 2-day stay in Lachung compared to a 1 day halt in Lachen. And whatever inquiries or visits Lachen has been getting over the last few years is purely because of the Incredible India campaign on Lachen, giving it much needed publicity and a facelift (a few Incredible India signboards in Lachen and a brochure that we got from our agency in Gangtok were testament to this disclosure, but we can’t vouch for the political angle to the story).

It’s a nice drive, 2 hours of what we missed while coming up on the 31^st January due to bad light, and 1 hour on a new route ahead of Chungthang. And as we enter the new road, both the valleys seem quite different from each other. Lachen side is more of a narrow gorge, and one sees hardly anything beyond the towering mountains on either sides. But this one opens up slowly and slowly, till it reaches its widest at Lachung, making it seem like a huge amphitheatre.

We arrive at our hotel in Lachung, Apple Valley Inn; a beauty carved out in wood. It’s difficult not to fall in love with this place. We are tripping on our surroundings; the views from the hotel of the small village downhill and magnificent snowy peaks rising behind them. So much so that we defer our plan to leave for Yumthang valley immediately upon arrival in Lachung, and instead settle for a cup of coffee in the comforts of the balcony facing the marvelous views.

After the brief intermission, we set out for Yumthang valley. Set further north of Lachung, Yumthang is a limited access area, for the area borders Tibet. The Lonely Planet guide gave us the impression that visitors can go upto a couple of kilometers ahead of the ‘famous’ hot springs. But somewhere on the internet, we read about Zero Point. Supposedly, Zero Point is the last place till where a tourist can go. It’s called zero point for the simple reason that beyond this point there is no road!

This side of the north Sikkim still has lots of snow cover. We pass a number of vehicles, all of them on their way back. We are surely late, not that if bothers us and rather we enjoy the anticipation of being alone at zero point. We pass the hot spring; too touristy. The landscape beyond seems to have frozen. Water coming out of a big iron pipe has frozen to form an art installation, and so have the huge waterfalls, rendering a scary silence to the valley. The huge trees start giving way to more and more open areas and eventually shrubs take complete control of the proceedings. We keep moving against the horrors, which blocked our way to Gurudongmar. But here progress is much easier owing to a comparatively leveled landscape. The valley begins to open up magically towards the end stretch. One can see multiple valleys connected to this one.

Being the only car going against the flow of traffic can sometimes cause a jittery feeling. The landscape is intimidating. It is enclosed in what is like a snow bowl, with frozen waterfalls on all sides and a solitary road leading to an end. A vehicle slipping and rolling to the valley floor, or any cries for help will obviously not be heard.

The jeep suddenly stops. We are a kilometer short of zero point. A long sheet of ice on the road challenges us to tread its path. We peacefully decide against it (unlike day 4). All of us get down and get soaked in the utter tranquility of this place! It’s like Lachung, all draped in snow but on a much, much grander scale. The Yumthang River has been reduced to a joke with most of it being frozen. Some abandoned shelters dot the slopes below us. The snow is delectably white and the gradual sloping of the nearby mountains makes for a very tempting slide on them. And the irony of it all- we can stay for a maximum of 15 minutes only. Ours is the only vehicle out in the wilderness and the driver doesn’t want to take any chances with the problematic roads and disappearing sun.

And so in 3.5 hours we are back in our hotel, still spellbound with what we have seen up there.

We didn’t go to Mt. Katao. It’s the mountain in front of Lachung frequented by mostly bengalees. Apparently it’s illegal to enter that area since it’s very close to the border, and permits are not issued, but agencies take a chance and enter the area in the absence of any police check post. Or, as some say, with help of some corrupt policemen.

Lachung seems like a Bengali outpost. Almost everyone speaks the language and others who can’t, surely understand it. Most of the people here are immigrants, from Bengal and Bihar; little doubt then, that no meal here goes without a papad and aloo bhaja (Bengali potato fries).

Tonight is going to be special. After all, it is our last day in North Sikkim. And though we will and have to come back to visit the lake that eluded us and beyond (this information cannot be divulged till we are sure of the plans), we don’t know when that day is going to be. And so we embrace our spots on the rocks out in the porch, under the still moonless night, and begin an endless gaze into the sky counting shooting stars.

Prayer flags on way to zero point :: © 2010 Rohit Chaudhary

Costs

We ended up paying 22,000 on this tour of North Sikkim for a group of 5 people, inclusive of transport, lodging and meals for 3 nights and 4 days. The price is extremely unsteady and one can come down drastically on bargains. But most of the tour operators start with Rs. 25,000 for such a trip. The final price, of course, translates into quality of accommodation and food, and sometimes vehicles also. So the best bet, I guess, would be to go with the agencies with most recommendations.

Tourists in Sikkim :: © 2010 Rohit Chaudhary

view from urgos :: © 2009 sriparna ghosh

I was sold on Chitkul more than two years back. And I have tried to sell it ever since. To whoever has 4 days or more, and is willing to travel. I, in all my sincerity, urge them to fit in another one and half hours into their bone-jangling 10-hour journey time starting from Shimla. 90% gave me the do-you-even-know-what-makes-a-holiday-look and stopped at Shimla. And well, went to Chail and Kufri. Then there were a few who saw the pictures and got tempted. But, 10-hours, they said, was more than enough and got off at Sangla.

But for me, Chitkul was calling. The underlying reason was that it was the last village on that route. Last villages are like final frontiers. They have their own charms, as do the firsts, tallests, fastests, highests … and so on.

In our travels, we always try to reach where the road ends. And we did so, this time as well.

The road in subject here starts in Manali, and goes through the Rohtang pass. This is where the families, couples and groups of friends from all over India stall their cars, jump out into their hired fur coats and gum boots to frolic on brown coloured snow that is not even snow-ballable.

A scattered few switch to neutral gear and gravitate down the mountain, on the other side, on their way to Ladakh.

But Ladakh wasn’t on our agenda; it was Lahaul. Lahaul is considerably unexplored, Keylong being the only well-known district, owing to the fact that it falls on the Manali-Leh highway. Our predetermined plan took us to a couple of monasteries around Keylong (Kardong and Billing), and to Udaipur, uptill Tindi village (the last village of Lahaul on this road). And a river gone beserk did not take us to Purthi and Killar, which fall futher up on the road beyond Tindi, and are in the Chamba district of HP (famous for Dalhousie). To fill in came the village of Urgos, in Miyar valley, which is at the end of the road that turns east right before Udaipur.

Urgos was also calling, like chitkul had. For the same reason, and also cause secretly I was considering it to be a village straight out of Lord of the Rings, thanks to its mysterious sound to the name. Not to mention, according to my mother, “we would find khargosh in urgos”.

So we kept a few rabbits and some elves on the radar, and continued on this superbly coal-tarred road. True to my observation of roads throughout Lahaul, that every new detour starts off like silk, and turns to jute, even for this, we were led from bad to worse, to driving on the river bed(with rocks and boulders). The views were spectacular. A number of villages fall enroute, each with a great setting: Shakoli, Chimret, Karpat, Tingrat, and finally Urgos. At tingrat, the only village which boasts of a hotel, we were made to fill in details at the check post, and a solitary string is what stops you from driving by without stopping. Noone breaks any rules here. That’s for sure.

on the way to urgos :: © 2009 sriparna ghosh

A newly built bridge on a river-tributary is what separates Tingrat from Urgos, and it owing to that, buses can ply till the last village, Urgos. So could we.

Reaching there, I was torn between my love for Chitkul and an imminent likeness towards Urgos. Pretty and identical in their settings, of green forests in the vicinity, and pointy snowed in peaks in the distance and a river cutting through the valley. These are the last villages, but the scope doesn’t end with that. There are fabulous, even if tough, treks starting at both places that take to places like Zanskar(Ladakh), Netwar(Har-Ki-Dun) etc.

What you should be doing there: Of course, if you are a hustle-bustle lover, this is not your place. Moreover, once there, through one of the worst roads in India, after 24 hours of leaving Delhi, you wouldn’t be in the mood. Depending on how deeply this article moves holiday makers (I’m counting zero impact) and how many gladly make their way to Urgos (Zero again), you might or might not find hotels to welcome you there. We did not find any, as we were told we are the first real Indian tourists. Urgos is frequented by foreigners out on expeditions, and a few photographers here and there. If you are there, without any plans to trek (plan well in case you do cause we were told people die on the glaciers which stretch out after Urgos) then you should do what we did. Play ‘Upwards’ on the low tables while watching the rain and sipping Saunf tea (read: tea innovation ought to be tried back home) sitting on locally hand woven carpets, go out for a pee to a locked bathroom 200 mtrs away, then walk down to the river through the fields, try some slow-shutter-photography of the water flowing by, enjoy dinner made by the family you are staying with (read: home stay), and off to the most peaceful sleep (on the same carpets) while you check out a few stars peeping from behind the clouds.

Not having found any images of Urgos on flickr search before leaving, we are doubly excited to publish these online, to give a glimpse to those who are planning to go there, and to simply answer ‘why you should go there’ to those who aren’t.

urgos village :: © 2009 rohit chaudhary

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]]> http://bushahrtimes.com/archives/491/feed 2 http://bushahrtimes.com/archives/407 http://bushahrtimes.com/archives/407#comments Mon, 01 Jun 2009 09:58:08 +0000 sriparna.g http://bushahrtimes.com/?p=407 And to be more specific: travelling in the Himalayas.

When I first received THE call from WWF offering us a project to design a brochure on the topic of high altitude wetlands, I almost dropped the phone. Similar waves of pleasure gently hit us repeatedly through the next 2 months to its completion. The costing wasn’t an issue, since we would have done the project anyhow.

The initiative goes by the name Saving Wetlands Sky-High! or SWSH in short. Under this project WWF is striving for conservation and sustainable management of the high altitude wetlands in the 5 Himalayan countries of India, Pakistan, China, Nepal and Bhutan.

A note of personal achievement before I start talking about the design:
We have been to 6 out of the 13 wetlands currently under the focus of this project – Tsomoriri, Tsokar, and Pangong Tso in Ladakh; Nako Lake and Chandratal in Spiti, Himachal Pradesh; and finally Tsomgo in Sikkim. Two were missed by a whisker: Gurudongmar in Sikkim (cause we had polished off our vacation fund by then) and Manimaheshwar (cause of lack of planning and proper winter clothing). A note to self: 7 more to go! And well 4 more countries.
One of my photos got used as the back spread for India. Not the tiny inset ones, but the big one.

Gradually, through the days, the design was converted to a folder-insert format as opposed to a brochure in order to make it more flexible in terms of addition of information later on. The outer cover is a simple folder with 2 flaps, one with a map and the other with some excerpts from the introductory text. One can see the intro text on the left side, while the right side holds all the inserts. There are 6 inserts in total, one each for all the five countries and the last one on the topic of regional programme. Each insert carries the name of the country in bold, flanked on the right with a bird or animal endemic to that specific region. Along with that, what forms a part of the template is a blue box at the bottom with another symbolic icon from the country. The reverse side has 3 photographs each, with a more topical information on the specific wetlands.

From our end, we considered this project a lot more personal than measuring it about its cost effectiveness. It wasn’t asked of us, but we rummaged through all possible encyclopedias on birds and animals, looked through zillions of ineffective photographs and zeroed in on a few successful ones. After each stroke of curve, we tilted our heads back to admire the difference. Chewed off our fingernails till we got to see the printed version. And whenever we got a visitor, we rushed to show it off, with the happiness of flaunting a newly acquired toy.

Why? This is a question that won’t have a logical answer, but perhaps I can answer it with a few more questions. Why did I spend Rs 4000 on trekking boots, and not buy instead of it four shoes of different kinds? Why do I want a cottage in the Himalayas overlooking a lake? Why don’t I have 40 thousand rupees in my bank savings, but a drive of 40 GB on my hard disk dedicated to travel photographs, fast approaching its capacity?

…and the final product has in fact surpassed our own expectations.

We didn’t really think of Yuksom as anything more than a ‘starting-point’ of a trek. And considered it to be true even upon our arrival. As our jeep entered a relatively open area after hours of winding, climbing, empty road, all that we could see were a couple of hotels and 3-4 restaurants, kind of shacks. It was almost dark and bodies were too lazy to venture out on walks.

It was only the next day that we could marvel at our beautiful surroundings. Neatly spread out houses, within an area of a square kilometre, a small murky lake and a temple gave the whole area an impression of being some sort of a ‘model’ village. Our guide offered an explanation; Yuksom lacks a direct view of Khangchendzonga or for that matter any mountain range and so this place hasn’t seen much ‘development’. All that you could see around you would be land rising to a couple of thousand feet with thickly forested slopes of Rhododendron and oak. And that’s where in lay the beauty of this place. It seemed disconnected from the outside world and yet one could feel the presence of colossal Khangchendzonga just behind one of those hills.

Yuksom (1780 mts.) literally means meeting place of 3 lamas, the lamas who crowned the first chogyal of Sikkim here in 1641. It’s now called Norbugang Park. And so Yuksom is supposed to be the first capital of Sikkim. The Norbugang Chorten still has the evidence of the consecration ceremony in the form of stone seats and a footprint of the head lama on a stone.

We had to leave early, for we had a long day’s walk to reach our first camp at Tsokha village (3050 mts.) and so couldn’t really venture out into other attractions of the place. On the top of the agenda should be a visit to Dubdi monastery (45 minute’s trek). Established in 1701, Dubdi gompa is touted as Sikkim’s oldest monastery. Then an additional whole day could be spent relaxing at the beautiful Phamrong waterfall, which is roughly 8 kms from Yuksom.

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So, THAT is what I have been doing wrong!

Taking off from i-sol’s earlier post about planning before a holiday (he himself has confessed that I am one of the subjects in his post), I have to admit that I revel and, in some shameful cases, snatch and grab the opportunity to plan holidays. I don’t know whether I should be ashamed because many others have said that they would rather leave the planning to someone else and not bother about the logistics. As for me, I just LOVE it. And not to mention, the planning stage somewhat turns me into a raging, impatient, semi-loony, obsessively checking PNR status of train tickets every minute, control freak. I am not very lovable at such moments.

But about planning: From the prospect of holiday, to searching for train tickets, the perfect hotel, the detailed itinerary, to put it mildly, I just get off on such things. Needless to say, I am put in charge of reserving tickets on Indian trains (not a pleasurable job unless you like searching a million trains and dates for available seats), which brings the idea of a holiday closer to me. Of course, after reservation, I go nuts collecting money from everyone and reminding them everytime I see them or call them because I have to pay my credit card bill on time coz I never miss a due date on ANYTHING (did I mention I am a control freak?).

So, for the next new year holiday, I failed to get a reservation, which, needless to say, put me in a super-foul depressive mood for days. I take lack of bookings very personally. But fortunately an alternate was found quickly and the rest of the holiday-makers (friends) were quickly convinced that the alternate is much better.

But on a more personal note, the thing is every step of planning takes me that much closer to the holiday and intensifies the anticipation. Maybe just for me, but the anticipation does reach fever-pitch till the day I leave. I want to make each holiday matter much more than the previous and be another experience of a lifetime. It could be a way to show off to others, but who cares? Finally it is the experience which matters and then there are a thousand unseen things that can go wrong.

So for those who think I plan way too much or control way too much, try doing it once. I can assure you, you will come crying, crawling back and beg me to take over…

…with a secret desire to be a travel agent.

In my earlier post, I had written about how the intrepid traveler prepares for each trip like a general for a war. I am willing to lay my neck on the line and even go so far as to say that Sun Tzu might have got some of his ideas from the forerunners of the present day intrepid traveler.

Our present day avatar plans precisely in even going to the neighbourhood supermarket for grocery shopping.

“You have to decide whether to take an auto or drive there, where to park, when to go to get the best deals, who to go with so that the person shows an equal enthusiasm…blah… blah,” she told me once before proceeding to throw a fat book at me as I yawned at this enthralling confession of domestic problems.

I digress. Suffice to say that the violence displayed on this occasion is ample proof of the war-like mentality with which the intrepid traveler approaches her whole life.

A week’s holiday requires months of planning, a fortnight’s vacation, years of painful research. Just like countries shore up their resources and fill up their treasuries before launching into a war, the intrepid traveler starts saving up eons before a trip.

“Say, how about a drink tonight?.”
“Not tonight.”
‘Why? Is everything all right? It’s hard to drag you away from a bar before five in the morning. Are you ok?
“Well, I am planning to go to Ougadougou  (pronounce vah-ga-doo-goo) in 2022. I have started saving.”

Every bit of spare time is spent in preparing for the trip. She pores over maps and visits websites of the destination or should I say targets. The terrain is studied well, a list of places to visit is drawn up (only to be redrawn several times over the course of years), and local customs are noted.

“Hello, intrepid traveler.”
“Hello, Sol,” she says before pinching your nose.
“Ow! Why did you do that?”
“That’s how ougadougans used to greet each other in the 12th century”

When she should be discussing business with clients, she asks them about their previous holiday. She drools over pictures in Flickr and reads 18th century travelogues by people with names such as Dr Livingstone.

She doesn’t return your calls as she has exceeded her call limits by phoning hotels to ask about reservations. She starts shopping for clothes and equipment without giving a thought to the certainty that she will put on 10 kg before she starts the trip.

She starts clicking her tongue and makes other smacking sounds because that is how one says hello and thank you in languages such as Kimore, Kigali and Kosuda.

She starts taking a deeper interest in foreign exchange rates and tends to make such statements as “Yes, an apple in Ouagadougou costs 15 smackeroos” or words to that effect.

Every intricate detail is painstakingly researched and catalogued so that she becomes an expert on the destination. Makes one wonder why bother with the trip after all, when the surprise element is no longer there.

Mallory was the forerunner of the intrepid traveler or Homo Intrepidus Traveleris. Resolute, determined to reach the destination by hook or crook or hitch hiking, she prepares for every trip like a general for a war.

For all you people out there who are reading this instead of planning for their next trip… learn from the intrepid traveler.

When it comes to gallivanting around the country, she displays such a surfeit of energy that makes a man feel he is suffering from a hangover on nothing stronger than buttermilk the previous night.

Typically one, who refuses to come for lunch with you before three o clock in the afternoon and then nibbles at her food, since its her first meal of the day, she is a different animal when travel mania strikes her.

It is rather easy to spot the intrepid traveler at ten paces.. or five if you are myopic like me.

She is the one who goes around with a long face if her ranking moves down here like a teenage tennis starlet whose endorsements move proportional to her rankings.

She knows the bus and railway time tables of out of way places such as Bushahr! So what, if she forgets that her next business meeting is an hour later.

The Intrepid traveler never visits places.. She only “does” them. Sitting around a campfire on the top of a cold Shivalik mountain, during one of the rare trips I made, all I can remember from the scintillating conversation was “I have done Timbuktoo, Jhumritalaya and Tegucigalpa.”

“What about you,?” She asked.

“err.. I went to Ludhiana last week.”

I was quelled by a glance that made me feel like the scum of the earth. I valiantly tried to list other places – Coimbatore, Aluva, Baddi, Rudrapur…. But I was not doing it right.. I mean going there is not doing it.

The intrepid traveler is a great photography buff. Whether she took to travel to shoot more pictures or shoots pictures as a matter of course during travel is a matter of conjecture.

But the after effects are ghastly. If you happen to bump into her after a trip, it’s like visiting a friend’s place after her marriage. You are subjected to the ancient torture of having to scan through loads of photographs.

To be fair, half these photographs are nice pictures of white mountains shrouded in white clouds or green mountains shrouded in white clouds or white mountains shrouded in green cloud .. oh well, the last one was a failed chemistry experiment.

The other half is what makes strong men wince and wish they were in some other place. This consists of a series of pictures of the intrepid traveler in different poses, against different backdrops, with different people, in different costumes, in different moods, eating different foods, during different times of the day. That’s enough combinations to make your head go dizzy and wish for something stronger than lukewarm tea.

All this writing has made me dizzy. More in a later post.

List of provisions stacked for the trip to Tsomo-riri (3 days/ taxi/ 4 people + 1 driver)

Trip dates: 27, 28, 29 June 2007

The bill dated 26th of June 2007 was supposed to feed 5 people for 3 days. Of those 5 people, 4 brains were put into preparing this list. And the best of our experiences told us that it should be enough. Only this time around, it was more than enough.

The food was supposed to be consumed for a total of 6 meals. Breakfast on 28th and 29th, lunch on 28th and 29th and dinner on 27th and 28th. Most of these ‘planned intakes’ were based on the daily routines of a normal life in the plains. But in Ladakh, things work differently, especially if you are camping and on your own! We learnt truth the hard way that it’s best to have your dinner before 6. Beyond six, putting your hands into the water to clean dishes et al would lead to a minimum of an hour’s hard work to regain the sensation of your ‘lost’ hands! Beyond six, dinner preparation transforms into a herculean task because of the crazy winds! Coming back to the plan, we had lunch on 27th enroute Tsomo-riri at some small settlement. Dinner of 27th was an average fare. We made pasta and found it tasty too (more so because of the excitement of making and then eating food out in the open and in the backdrop of the majestic Tsomo-riri). Breakfast on 28th was taken late and that’s what the problem was. In high altitude cold desert, your appetite goes for a toss (if you are not involved in any sort of physical activities). So lunch on 28th and 29th got fired. And breakfast got replaced by brunch.  So essentially the figure of 6 got reduced to 4.

Even our pahari driver couldn’t help us. Wherever we went, he would find friends and locals who would then invite him to have food at their places. Half man down, damn (he did accept some of the food cooked by us)! A French couple was our neighbour through this camping trip and what better way to make friends than by inviting them for dinner. Unfortunately here, the gesture got reciprocated! And in return for our food we were served some ‘professionally’ cooked Indian food.

So, what all were we left with at the end of the trip?

1 tetra pack of milk

1 cornflakes’ packet

4 maggi packets

1 packet of cheese slices

Drinking chocolate

Lots of bread (not in the list, purchased from some other shop)…

Can’t really remember more. But yes, all that was left was divided between our driver and an extremely elated local guard of Tso-kar campsite.

The list can act as a benchmark sorts for our trekking group, so that we don’t have to go through the process of thinking it all over again.

PS: I can’t figure out why ‘Amul milkmaid’ doesn’t find mention in the bill above! I remember clearly finishing it down to licking bit. I just can’t afford something as precious as milkmaid to be left behind thanks to my fetish for sweets. ‘Fruit cocktail’ was second on got-to-complete list and it did perish in the depths of my stomach.