An Ocean of White – A Winter Hike in Spring
Manjhi was colder than we expected. And the region had a lot more snow than there should have been. The previous evening – we’d glanced at the trail that headed towards Dodital and seen our route submerged under a layer of white.
The last conversation we had before everyone retired was an open discussion on the next day’s plan. Originally, we were supposed to trek to Dodital and camp on the banks of the holy waters.
But the unseasonal wave of snowfall which had preceded our trek had made the path extremely treacherous for the mules to go any further.
We eventually delayed the call to next morning, subject to us sending one of our local team members ahead to scout the conditions. As dawn arrived and the atmosphere remained misty, it was quite clear that the lay of the land was not at all favorable. Additionally, the gully which led to Darwa Pass ahead of Dodital was snowed in with over 3 feet of snow. There was no way we could move our tents and rations to the Dodital campsite.
Sometimes, that’s how simple decisions are in the mountains. They’re made for you. And if you’re humble enough – you pivot, grab the experience you’re offered and make the best of it.
And that’s exactly what we intended to do.
We were getting the taste of a winter hike having just spent a day of blooming spring on trail.
The kids were enthusiastic and the rest were excited for what the next few kilometers held!
We were certain that we’d make it to Dodital and back in reasonable time if the overcast skies held.
With matching gaiters in tow and rain jackets as our choice of armor – we departed soon enough. Alas, the skies did not hold. A light drizzle became omnipresent. But it was going to take a lot more than a little gloomy weather to dampen our spirits.
A partially unbroken, icy trail was a novel encounter for a majority of the group and it was amazing to watch all age groups from 8 to 50 experience the magic of the mountains! The forests felt straight out of Narnia and the trail bent around multiple spurs of the hillside. It was almost like unlocking a new section each time we rounded a corner and spotted the faint outline of a path in the snow!
About three hours in though, things took a turn for the worse. The mercury dropped and extremities began to freeze with every stop for rest. As the group began to space out and come together – we soon knew a tough choice needed to made. It was 1 PM and despite the birthplace of Lord Ganesh being in touching distance, it was evident that not all of us would make it there if we wanted to get back to Manjhi safely.
In the meantime, light powder had begun to fall and was slowly turning into a full blown hailstorm with a mix of thunder, lightning and rain for good measure. Janak, Hirvir (our regional guides) and Umang took ahead seven trekkers who were slightly faster while Suresh bhai (our lead guide) and myself turned around with the twins and their parents. The kids’ feet had started getting wet and both the boys, for whom the whole trek had been a series of firsts, were clearly not enjoying this one.
Had we carried on, there was a good chance it would have been nightfall by the time we returned to the relative warmth of Manjhi. A memory which surely would not have instilled a desire to return to the Himalayas for the young ones.
As we quite literally retraced our footsteps through the snow, the briefest appearance of the sun seemed enough to lift the twins’ spirits. Soon, normal service resumed, and I found myself being quizzed once again about everything their inquisitive little minds could conjure up.
By 3.45 PM, we arrived at the shepherd huts and sat by a small fire with one of the old villagers, attempting to dry out our shoes. He was also kind enough to share some traditional laddoos made from the locally grown Ramdana – an absolutely sweet delight on a cold, damp day!
Over the next few hours as my trusty Casio struck 6, we chatted away over piping hot bowls of soupy noodles and countless cups of tea and coffee. It had become unusually dark as terrifyingly dark clouds rolled in just as half the team made it back. Only Umang, Hirvir and the group of four ladies who were old friends remained out in the wild.
The twins had their best friend back and I heard raucous shouts of “UNO” erupt from the now zipped up dining tent. It was only another 45 minutes before the remainder of our group returned – only minutes before the heavens opened up.
In the hours we’d been away during the day, the entire patch of snow around Manjhi had melted and to our absolute surprise, over the next hour and a half, almost double the quantity was deposited back. We shuffled between the kitchen and dining tents as a snowstorm raged!
To our surprise, not a soul was disappointed or worried.
It had been a day to remember, for better or worse and even though it was harder, longer, colder and wetter than we could ever have imagined, it was all part of the adventure.
Everyone had a story to tell and it was fantastic to hear each person describe the day in the unique manner they all experienced it. This was what the Himalayas truly had to offer when you came along with the right perspective.
There was nothing more fitting than ending the night with fresh, hot ‘gulab jamuns’ before snuggling into the depths of our sleeping bags!
It’s All Sunshine & Rainbows – Manjhi to Bhebra
It snowed on and off during the night and eventually when I awoke to unzip the outer cover of our tent, to my complete surprise, the zip refused to budge. A look around the vestibule and aha, I had the answer. In the chilling cold before dawn snow had frozen and crystallized around the teeth of the zipper. When I finally got it undone and stepped out in my icy crocs, the surroundings were a sight for sore eyes.
Rays of the sun twinkling between the treetops.
Frost on the surface of our orange tents, resplendent in the morning glow.
One of the horses, a few meters away, grazing away solitarily amidst the woods – a postcard if I’d ever seen one.
Last evening’s powder around camp had frozen solid and every step was accompanied by a crunch – leaving behind footprints soon to be melted away. I brought out my pair of trail running shoes, wet from the previous day’s ordeal to possibly dry them out and over the next few minutes, every other pair from each tent was spread out in the same hope!
We’d laid the table out in the open – to finally experience the satisfaction of a breakfast in the wild as we basked in the sunshine. The kids played around with the scruffy and fluffy mountain dogs who’d followed us all the way from Agoda. In between slices of toast, scrambled eggs and a hot cup of coffee, I snapped a quick picture of the trio with their canine companion. A moment they can look back on years later!
Soon after, it was time for our sojourn in this part of the hills to come to an end. In just over 48 hours, we’d been through a hurricane of emotions and nearly hurricane force winds. On the day we were supposed to be waking up at Dodital and headed north of the tree-line to Darwa Pass, our feet would be carrying us downwards.
What we envisaged being a rather bitter than sweet day of hiking back with our tail tucked well between our legs, turned out to be one of those truly special walks in the mountains one always tends to remember.
Spotless blue skies. A quiet and peaceful trail. Unfettered sunrays and the opportunity to immerse ourselves in the descent at our own pace.
The miles seem to fall away and not a soul was fatigued.
Today was a reward. It was one of those experiences you desire when you choose to hike in the Himalayas. Over the next 4-5 hours, the group spaced out, still within earshot but capturing their own little version of the valley – a version of a near perfect day that does not come around too often.
We’d promised everyone three nights of camping, and to make up for what the weather had stolen this time around, we improvised and chose the tiny hamlet of Bhebra as our final stop on the trail. Agoda was only an hour and fifteen minutes away, but as we sat on the boulders by the stream, feet on smooth stone, building tiny cairns that would be swept away as the water rose, we realized, that civilization could wait. If only for another sunset.
It was an idyllic evening. A clear sky and the chill it brought along.
Few of the group spoke about when they’d be back and what trail they were looking forward to. Others alternated between a more lethal version of UNO and a game called Tinderblox, almost like reverse jenga, where you had to hold your nerve and build a miniature campfire with tweezers. Meanwhile dinner was a fantastic affair. Laughter erupted as bonds deepened and not a thought of Agoda even cross our minds.
Hours later, an unavoidable need to answer nature’s call around 4 am woke me up. And as I glanced beyond the tress of the slopes around me, my jaw pretty much dropped to the grass. The expanse of the cosmos was sprawled across the night sky.
The glorious Akash Ganga, more commonly known as the ‘Milky Way’.
It’d been years since I had the fortune to glimpse it in all its shining glory. I waited in the biting cold as the wind threatened to leave me hypothermic, but after the better part of an hour – those moments were immortalized.
In a manner I hope, did a fraction of justice, to what I had witnessed.
Almost Home – The Charm of Agoda!
Given where’d ended up camping, the final day on trail felt like a literal walk in the park, albeit at 2200m! We organized a small ceremony to allow trekkers the opportunity to express their gratitude for our local team, without whom it would be impossible to explore these wild corners of the Himalayas.
Seventy odd minutes later, after a small switch-backing ascent combined with a rolling walk to close it out, we were back at our humble abode in Agoda.
Hours flew by as some of us lounged in the sun while others scorched the dirt of their backs. Lunch gave way to naps in the glorious afternoon sun in the tiny garden of the homestay. The village dogs seemingly had the same idea and joined for a crisp siesta – the likes of which can only be experienced after a trek.
In the evening, we went to pay respects at the village temple where an hours-long Puja was on. The villagers invited us back after dinner for what was a customary communal dance session planned for the occasion being celebrated. Before we knew it, half of us were sucked in (I was too shy). Before we knew it, it was past 10.30 and we achingly bid goodbye.
It had been a heartwarming day. The most pleasant morning, a gentle walk back to civilization and an immersive cultural experience was the icing on the cake.
A lot of friends have asked me what my favorite trek has been.
And that’s the funny part – they’re all memorable and absolutely life changing, in their own small, significant ways!
