Back to Base Camp-Loha Jung, 15 May 2007

We woke up to a quiet day and very tired legs. Walking another 10km did not seem to be an option for us—we were really tired. Giovanni had already opted out of the walk and rented a jeep eliminating any chances of bodies hurtling down the valleys—the misgivings that had led to the discord was the incorrect information, the consequent lack of preparedness, and inadequate responses to medical emergencies—all of which could have been avoided to make our trek much more enjoyable.Hopefully, we have all learned our lessons.

There was good cheer all around as we left Ran Ki Dhar by 8 am and walked down to the hamlet below to catch our ride to Loha Jung. Farewells were made to Narayana and Munni—gifts of raincoats, tracks and sweaters and Liz’s plate—as he called out to Meena to never forget Munni. We piled on to the back of the open jeep (after a small tussle between Ash and Nayanika over who got to sit on Liz’s lap) and set off on a ride that was an experience altogether. The jeep hurtled down the road like a roller coaster set free from its rails. What we went through in the back of the jeep—the less said the better! I think it suffices for you to know that we were hanging on for our dear lives. Impedimenta of course was comfortably seated in the front seat and never saw how our bones were jolted short of being dislocated from their respective sockets. We rattled and rolled along; singing hit songs from the latest Hindi movies till possibly the driver got sick of us and put on some of his local favorites. The sun was shining high and we drank in the view. The beautiful mountains and valleys whizzed past us. We waved at the people and pointed out the little streams that trickled down the mountains to each other. All the while making sure that we were holding on tight.

And then a sight that I am sure we all will remember. I don’t know who saw it first but we all looked up to see, what according to Sharda would most probably be, a Eurasian Griffon, gliding above, its wing outstretched over us as if in blessing. It soared across over our jeep much to our delight and at that moment we were so glad to be in the back of this jalopy. Somehow it seemed to me a sign of approval, a sense of completeness if you will—but however hard I tried, I could not get a picture of it. It’s there though, in the mind’s eye, a Griffon in the Himalayas, with outstretched wings protecting what it flew over. I at least would like to think that this bird of prey was on my side.

Then we arrived at Loha Jung. We tumbled out of the jeep, all of us surprisingly in one piece. One look at the Hargopal sisters’ faces and you could see the torture endured, personified. Liz and I kept quiet because we really had enjoyed the jeep ride. The children ran to the big tree outside the base camp and we found that the entire telephone network was down so we could not get in touch with family. Strange, we had not talked to anyone outside our group since the 10th of May. We decided to do some exploring so there we were marching down the main street of Loha Jung complete with our walking sticks in an unconscious tribute to the Dandi March. We were however not in search of salt.

Our first stop was at Chaudhry’s jewelry store—and the company of ladies bombarded questions at “Chaudhry” sitting there till he desperately confessed that he was Sanjay and that he would get Chaudhry for us right away. The real Chaudhry was obviously not very business savvy because he was away playing a game called Guchchi—every one threw their coins into the square marked out on the ground and whoever hit their coin with a marble, won all the coins. All the men in the vicinity seemed to indulge in this particular past-time. That is one thing we noticed—all the men seemed to have a lot of time to relax, sit, gamble at Guchchi, while all the women were working either carrying baskets loads, gathering firewood or grazing the domestic animals. Anyway, we definitely put Chaudhry back to work and back in business. He had to open every box, cupboard, and other hiding places were he had stashed his ware—poor Sanjay even had to take out the rings he wore. Despite the tyranny inflicted on him he offered us tea and in the process won our empathy as well as our money. We left him smiling as his fellow villagers took turns to thump congratulations on his back. I suppose he must have gone back to playing “Guchchi” and still be at it today! We picked up the bells, the sound of which had racked our brains out on several nights, but we had a need to cling to some mementos of this place. “Do you have donkeys around where you stay?”, asked a shop owner. Yeah, sure—lots of them—just can’t put bells around them to warn the others, I thought.

It was lunchtime and hunger pangs set in—Lien had explored the eating joints but it was Preeti who zeroed in on Kundan Singh’s café. “Look at those shining steel and copper glasses—a sign of a meticulous cleanliness,” she emphasized. The menu was announced: Maggi in any way you liked it, eggs in any way you liked it and Dal and Bhaath the only way he had made it. Several packets of Maggi were emptied out with a touch of Kundan Singh’s tomatoes (mine cooked differently—simmered delicately into a soup;-)), several eggs were scrambled, omlette-ed and the dal bhaath was passed around. Kundan Singh had to call in an assistant who was called, surprise,surprise: Kundan Singh! Both Kundan Singhs fussed over us, serving us as well as they could and the result—Truly Scrumptious! The girls were in heaven to the extent that we even heard, “Oh Maggi, how we missed you; how good you taste”! If only I heard that for all my efforts in the kitchen. Truly sated, we sauntered back to Base Camp to see where we would stay the night—wonder of wonders—we got rooms with attached bathrooms!

I hadn’t seen much of the base camp last time and I went around with my cameras till Preeti alerted me to the school nearby. It was a sight that gladdened our hearts. Little boys and girls dressed in white, lined up for their evening assembly. Preeti pointed out that even the girls wore trousers—a smart thing considering the climbing they probably have to do to get to their schools. It was small school, with a few classrooms set up with little plastic chairs. There was a quaintly written leave letter hung there, probably used as a template by the children. The teachers came across to us as sincere and committed as opposed to the ones one read about in the papers who just came in to collect their salary. The blackboard sported details about Uttaranchal and the teacher in Preeti was totally engrossed with the whole experience of the school. We chatted with the teachers for a while and impressed them enough to have them invite our girls for their morning prayers.

Meanwhile, our girls were far from the tired little things we had assumed they would be after a 45+km walk—they were, as Priya informed us, playing on the roofs of some houses, looking like country bumpkins with dirt on their face and their clothes hanging out. Like responsible mothers—we just let them be. Aparna was fatigued enough to not know what was going on, Preeti was busy trying to secure as many chairs as we could for our “personal balcony” which was more like just a stretch of a verandah and I had been plonked in one chair to kind of save it from other aspirants to its cushioned seat.

In walked Goa—the ever-happy ones—once again they had set a record for finishing the trek down really early. They sauntered in as if they came from a walk in the park, with Appa singing to provide the background score. Speedy never sang for us but then maybe it was good he didn’t—he might have been a Cacafonix to his Impedipenta. The last reports we had got was that after biding farewell to Impedimenta and packing us adults into the back of the jeep, he happily rode the pony enroute to base camp—how manly of him when the kids were walking! Then I saw our macho man from Goa and he had his vest back on—and he was dragging along a suitcase of clothes. “Hey Goa,” I called out, “what do you need a suitcase for when all you need is a vest?” “Hey Hyderabad”, he replied, “I got clothes to wear incase it got cold, but it’s really not cold enough!” Oh well—at least it is cold enough to wear a vest.

Apart from not having talked to our families since the 10th of May, we had also not had a bath. Thank god for deodorants, scented wet tissues, lotions and talc—we were still sweet smelling, even if I say so myself—but what we would not do for a hot bath? Preeti was ready to tug-of-war a bucket from Appa successfully and bond with kitchen personnel over Rajma and Jalebis to get them to fill the bucket with hot water several times so that most of us could value what the Bedouins must consider a luxury—a bath. We even roped in our dirty-looking kids to help them shell peas. From the peas though emerged yet another family member—Fern, a caterpillar whom Ayesha loved from the moment it crawled out of the pod into her hand. She was ecstatic about how soft Fern was and how she would be coming home with us. That it was a ‘She’ was an assumption, I pointed out and as for traveling with us—it was not possible. Priya took over to explain that Fern would be happier in the pure clean air of the Himalayas etc., while I timidly looked at a corner where lay the gooey remains of an unrelated caterpillar that I had squashed entirely by mistake and hoped that Fern’s future was better. Thankfully, Fern dropped off an inconsolable Ayesha somewhere and hopefully has evolved into a winged creature of some sort. We have of course a photo of her crawling on Ash’s finger that will be added to the family album.

Dinner was a sumptuous spread, what with an entirely Jain group joining us. The cook, thanks to the PR efforts of Preeti, specially brought in hot jalebis for us. The Goans sang around the bonfire late into the night but we packed in for the night—homeward bound, that’s what we were right now. Homeward bound.

PS: Thanks Sharda, for the correct information on the bird. I really cannot explain to you how beautiful it looked and how wonderful it felt to see it gliding over us. Stay in touch!