Bedani Kund, Snow Point and Goa, 13 May 2007

The next day did indeed bring in a brighter day. It brought in the sunshine, better health, happier kids and the view of the majestic Trishul right outside the tent—erasing the nightmare personified by the several puke-filled packets lined up. All through the trip, we had a several groups within our larger group, probably borne from the varying degrees of prior proximity and the ensuing closeness that comes from being misinformed as a group about the trek itself. Giovanni’s group was fuming. As he explained: that while he had learned that he could wash his hair with a mere tea-cup full of water, his heart was pained by the whole experience of not being actually prepared for the hardships that this trek had put us through. He was fed up. He had had enough. He was not staying one more day in Bedani Kund. He wanted to move down to Camp IV and that was that.

The temptation was to do the same, after what we had been through the day before. However, as Preeti said—there was the snow that we had promised the children. Could we live with the fact that we came up all the way to 12,000ft to just turn our back on all the experiences that it holds? And that too with Giovanni for company? This was the best final word she had and we stayed on banishing any chance of having regrets later. As the dissenting group walked away, Manish promised us the tour of Bedani Kund, and the snow so after breakfast we began our walk to Bedani Kund, where they say the all-powerful Devi used to descend to bless her people.

Manish asked the girls to lead and told them about how timeless and holy the Himalayas are. “If you ask for something with a true heart, you will be blessed with it”. We walked into the walled area and prayed at the temple of Parvati. One of the locals handed me some yellow flowers to put at the feet of the tiny statuette of the Goddess. A little ahead was a temple dedicated to Shiva. Usually this entire area is full of snow. It is only in these couple of months that you can actually visit. There were patches of snow all around the wall, and the girls jumped into them and threw snowballs at us. The sheer joy on their faces made me thank Preeti and thank god for giving me Preeti as a friend. They loved it! There was no trace of last night’s pain as Meena whooped and hurled the biggest snowball she could make.

These were ancient grounds and we knew as we walked along the ledges dotted with little purple, blue and yellow flowers that we were blessed to be here and that we might not ever come here again. The views were those that cannot be captured by any cameras. To stand at the edge, look at the lofty mountains and their frozen rivers draped across like sashes, to feel the cold breeze and breathe in the freshest air ever, to see the star-spangled night sky—these are not things a photograph can record. We took pictures nevertheless and began our walk down back to the camp.

That’s when we bumped into Goa. A very very sunny group of people, who came down the same track that we heavily trudged from Tol Pani to Bedani Kund, with light feet and a song in their hearts. Liz and Lien who were watching both Hyderabad (us) and Goa (them) walk down the same slopes could clearly make the difference. They said that the only one who looked energetic among us was Preeti using two walking sticks and a yellow raincoat around her waist—“like Superman on Skis,” they guffawed. Goa swung in with Appa, their over-enthusiastic group leader, who promptly had a bath in full view (vitals protected) of all around at 12,000ft. We checked later that the water had been heated—duh. The Goans were complete with arms around their partner of choice, their T-shirts (in one case a chap with a wife-beater vest on), and cowboy hats over monkey caps. We stood gaping at them like bag ladies till hunger made us join them for a Cholay-Bhature lunch.

Then came the matches. The men from Hyderabad and Goa were pitched against each other in a Volleyball match and the girls in a Throw ball match—complete with cheerleading. While Goa won the men’s round, the Hyderabad girls gave it back big time to win the Throw ball match. And we can proudly say that Lien was one of the winners—so much for being sick! She jumped in and smacked the ball down hard, with our girls and us rooting from the sides.

The view, the togetherness, the fun, the learning—all at 12,000ft—priceless. The pain, the fatigue, the discomfort—everything else can be forgotten. The girls were having a whale of a time and that mattered. That evening, dinner was a relaxed affair (with paper plates, even Aparna relented as they were bio-degradable). For lunch time, I had rolled out a couple of very much done-up stories on the Roopkund lake, complete with hidden treasure and facts about carbon dating to unsuspecting kids. At night, Ayesha narrated some much better stories with the skill of a Scherazade and then after a moments of privacy under the star-stricken sky (only ones looking down at us were Orion, The Great bear and others starry friends) we all gathered to watch what to us was entertainment, considering the absence of multimedia etc—Preeti getting into her sleeping bag. It was hilarious—somehow she never could slip in with the smooth elegance that she always displayed in life. We used to wear all that we could that included multiple pairs of socks, gloves, shirts, sweaters and even jackets as it was cold and then slip in but Preeti stood vanquished before the sleeping bag. She would struggle and wriggle and look awkward enough to thoroughly entertain us and then glance down enviously at her little Nayanika, who would have neatly slipped in and looked so comfy in there. While the daughter made sleeping in a sleeping bag an art, for the mom, it was rocket science! Bah—to be defeated by a sleeping bag!

Even though we might not have slept as soundly as we wanted to, we were rested. We were rested in the knowledge that people who mattered to us had got back their strength, that we had been tough enough to get this far and that we were tough enough to tackle anything that came our way. C'mon life--bring it on!

Camp III Bedani Kund, 12 May 2007

I was actually afraid that our noses would drop off with the cold—and we were to stay in Camp Bedani Kund for two days. Meena did not have any warm clothing on when she reached here and had been deposited in the kitchen tent (which was off-limit for us campers) by Manish. Lien who had got here before us, had swung into action, grabbed the best tent and then lain back to struggle with complications that high altitude brings on. Meanwhile, Priyanka of the girl gang was shivering and her lips looked blue. Manish told us to get the really cold ones into the sleeping bags for which I had to tussle with the camp attendant as they usually never gave then until after tea. Priyanka settled in and as Aparna reached she immediately tended to Lien and got Meena into something warm. Almost simultaneously, I received a desolate Nayanika who had been thrown off Munni and been kicked in the ankle that she had sprained. As Aparna got a bucket of warm water for compresses, the little walkie-talkie that Preeti had brought along crackled up with her voice. It was an SOS call to get help to Liz and Priya.

High altitude combined with the cold and the fatigue had got to Liz. Priya, who had defied the diagnosis of a slipped disc and braved the mountains was trying to keep Liz awake and had yelled across the mountains to Preeti who not only heard her words but even the emotion in her voice. It goes without saying that the Hargopal sisters were made of rare stuff and thank god (and their parents) for that. Preeti, who was nearer the camp than Liz and Priya had radioed Aparna right away. Mules were sent out but what reached them first were two porters to whom Priya reacted famously with something on the lines of I-do-not-need-men-I need-mules. (I do not have access to the exact quotes).

Meanwhile at camp, in all the rush I had forgotten that I had left Ayesha in her yellow raincoat, outside the tent with her backpack on. She had stood there patiently as I had run back and forth with sleeping bags, this time for Liz and Priya. Close to tears by now, I got some lunch for the kids and sat with Ayesha till Preeti came in and we waited for Liz and Priya with bated breath. Contrary to the dramatic images we had of them being carried in stretchers, we saw Liz riding in like Queen Elizabeth the First, ready to boost the morale of her soldiers before demolishing the Spanish Armada. She looked as pale and white as good queen Bess, except that she had this fuzzy woolen cap on. Priya, so much for the men and the mules, walked in with hands in her pockets to be swamped by her fans of various sizes. Once again, we were just glad to be together.

At this juncture, I need to side step from the trek and focus on a shining star: Aparna. If there ever was a healing presence among us, it was Aparna the Lovely. Tirelessly, without complaint, she had cared for everyone from the very beginning—from one sick child in the train to tents full of sick people. She would pull out her medical kit, hand out the doses, and use all possible endearments to make you feel good. The fever would drop with her hug, the breathing would get easier with her words, the stomach would settle down with her smile and all this without a trace of expectation. She stayed awake with each sick one all-night and rose in the morning even lovelier. Except that she had a head full of uncombed hair, a toilet roll shoved into one side of her jacket, a sanitizer in another pocket, medicines in yet another and god knows what else.

And it wasn’t just her—after so many days without a bath, we all had earned the bag lady status (except that Priya said I was a London maid with my headscarf and my need to organize everything ten times and still not find the one thing I wanted). Preeti was perfect too with her mismatched gloves. Completing our look was the bucket that Aparna acquired which we used to American-wash the plates and mugs, and er…a whole lot things, which I cannot recollect. Apart from being lovely, Aparna was extremely environmentally conscious. So were we, till washing up plates in cold cold Bedani Kund. I forced Narayana, the PT teacher to part with some paper plates that I carried triumphantly into our tent for dinner and stashed the plates, which were a story altogether. Meena’s plate had a cute mouse, Ayesha and Nayanika had a Pooh-looking bear parachuting down from nowhere, I and Aparna had elephants (god only knows why), Preeti had the Tasmanian Devil baring is fangs (we know why) and as for Liz she had a plate that was more like a Frisbee and Priya had a cross between a soup-bowl and a plate with a Barbie on it. We called it the begging bowl. “You have no idea what I used it for,” said Preeti in an aside. It wasn’t Spots the Dalmation’s water bowl was it? No—it was the fish-marinating bowl. Thankfully by the time the trek was over, some one-stepped on it and the Frizbee flew into Munni’s keeper’s keep—the rest of us are proud keepers of our famous trek plates, which one day will be put on display for the public.

Now to the evening of 12 May 2007. It was a pathetic cold night. Lien, Liz and Priya had a rough night but what was heart-wrenching was Meena’s ordeal throwing up her little guts out. Aparna stayed awake and barely slept a wink. Actually, except for Ayesha and Nayanika, we all lay there in our sleeping bags, hoping and praying that tomorrow would bring in a better day.

Climb to Bedani Kund, 12 May 2007

We got up in the morning to bed tea served at our tents, a clear sky, a much more happier looking Lien…but did we sleep at all in the first place? Preeti heard me all right last night but did not want to encourage a conversation and hear all the voices of dissent. She said she had other things to worry about, like for example that I was sleeping on the edge of the tent and she was afraid that the grazing mules might get a taste of my already very short hair. “ I was worried about what you would be left with after they chomped your hair off!” Aparna responded with a mule snort that would have put any of the grazing wonders to shame. One of the girls in our gang who had to be moved out to another tent to make more room for us, reported that the tent where she had to sleep, Impedimenta’s worse half made enough noise snoring to keep all the mules in the world awake. To add to the spice of it all, we had heard voices of the PT teachers trying to find a boy in the middle of the night and our wild imaginations had envisioned the worst—which was that a kid was running away because he could not take it anymore. The reality was no less imaginative—the teen unabashedly admitted that he was known to sleep walk and had sleep walked into the forests.

The sun was out and snow glistened on the mountain peaks and Lien was better. After breakfast we started off on our trail to Camp Bedani Kund at 12,000ft. We had climbed to 10,000ft—how difficult could it be to climb 2000ft more? Manish Jha warned, “If yesterday was what you considered tough, then today’s would be a challenge.” We were told that it was uphill over the hills near camp and then we would reach the vast meadows of Bedani Bugyal. From there it would be a trek along a mountain path to camp. Seemed straight forward—till I saw Narayan tie both Nayanika and Meena when they sat on Munni. Why do they have to be tied up? When I climbed up with Ash and the others, I realized why. If climbing up a mountain is hard—try doing it by pony. Hats off to Impedimenta and the girls for doing it in style—I still preferred my sore feet!

Manish Jha, decided to walk with us to Bedani Kund and we all welcomed it—the other kids who had been disciplined enough said, “Do we have to deal with the climb as well as Hitler?” But our girls at least heard stories of the mountains that kept spurred their curiosity and their energy. We climbed leaf-strewn tracks, with Ash tapping out the loose stones and rocks, we heard birds’ call so sweetly clear and we saw a amazing variety of butterflies flitting along with us. We stopped to sit on fallen logs. Ayesha wrote names on what she called a ‘Family Rock’ so that the mountains would bear at least the names of the people she loved but who couldn’t come with her on this trek. Then our energy began to sag and we longed for those promised meadows. We stopped to see the hills we had passed by that somewhere hid Base Camp and realized that we really had come a long way. Then we walked again till we reached the bugyal or the meadow. The sight was something one can only be privileged to see.

Over the gur and channa that Manish Jha handed out, we sat back to drink in the view. The regal mountain peaks looked down at us, perhaps to remind us that we were but specks that would pass with time and they would go on forever. Our children looked so vulnerable and yet so strong against this backdrop—a combination that probably emerged from their pure hearts and sincere efforts that got them to this high point. I could have sat their forever, looking at these silent, snow-covered ranges and hoping that the wisdom they passed on to the Rishis of yore would rub off on me. But it was time to walk on.

We could see the rain clouds begin their trek towards us. Raincoats were pulled out and actually seemed to make a bit of a fashion statement up here—the girl gang gathered for a picture with Ash. Nothing however could keep the cold away. We passed the sign that warned us that now we were entering restricted areas. Meena was way ahead with Manish and her snow-monkey warm coat was with Aparna—we could not even see her. Preeti, Liz and Priya were way behind and we could not see them either. The climb became more difficult. We could see the narrow path cut into the mountains and they seemed to run endlessly to nowhere. We walked passed a little temple and the hail began. Lien looked not so good—brave Nayanika got off the pony for her and walked with Aparna. Lien went ahead. The hail stormed on. Ayesha stuck out her tongue to catch a few drops. We trudged on with a little march of our own…Take ten steps 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, 10. Now rest for a count of ten. Take ten steps more and rest for ten…We dared not stop in case we could not get up anymore. I could see Ayesha’s little nose freeze up. Suddenly I realized we had been separated from the group. The last person I knew who passed me by was Narayan and Munni returning to pick up Nayanika after dropping Lien. I could not see Studmuffin’s gang, I could not see Impedimenta, what was worse--I could not see Aparna and Nanu. So I went on with Ayesha, Jyotsna and Priyanka. These girls were freezing, but we kept each other walking on. We met a local porter who said the mandatory, “Bas thoda aage hai”.

It was damp, cold and we began feeling snow on us. Despite being dead tired, Ayesha was thrilled to stick out her tongue and this time catch snow. While the rocky face of the mountains loomed high on one side, there was the sheer drop into the valley on the other side. We kept one hand on the side of the mountain and stayed away from the ledge. Our map had said that it was an 8km walk from Tol Pani to Bedani Kund—but this felt much more than that. We got to the end of the narrow mountain track and stepped into soft rolling hills. It was a meadow but we did not see camp anywhere. I did not know which way to go. There was no welcome banner like in the other camps. Before panic set in, a very calm Ayesha said, “Let’s follow these mule tracks and fresh mule poop—it’s bound to take us to people.” We whooped and hugged her and let her lead as she had done for the past two days. We walked and walked till we caught sight of one of the most wondrous sights ever—the toilet tents of Camp Bedani Kund and we walked on to a camp that seemed to be in a swirl of bad-tempered clouds.

We had reached Camp Bedani Kund all right but life was just about to get really heated up in these cold mountains.

Camp II: Tol Pani, 11 May 2007

It was probably the sheer physical strain of it all that blinded us to the tranquil beauty of Camp Tol Pani. We were drained of the ability to see that this camp was the cleanest and probably most comfortable of them all. Our tents were nestled at the feet of the wooded slopes and we had a view of the snow clad peaks. The trees that one can safely assume had seen more than we had seen in our lifetime, stood there protectively, designed with natural hollows and carved trunks. Ayesha adopted one to share the privacy that it gave. Near the eating-place, a fallen log gave us dining bench.

But what was alive in our heads was the fact that this trek was arduous and that the requirement for sunscreen was minimal—what we needed was more warm clothes. It was getting colder by the hour and the rain that was imminent before and in drizzles, would pour down on us at night. We realized that the concern we had for the toilets was the least of our problems—the makeshift Indian-toilet tents were clean and more than we could ask for in the middle of wilderness. It just took some getting used to (along with a Savlon-wash, hand sanitizers, wet tissues and the self-instructions, “Two feet on two sides, crouch and just do it.”)—our girls at Tol Pani began to ease out their insides and as mothers, we began to relax.

What was biting into us was the cold (now I know the true meaning of the expression ‘biting cold’) and the physical toll of the trek. Lien couldn’t breathe and became really sick—it was the high altitude. Aparna’s TLC and Priya’s asthelene saved the day. Liz seemed to have all the humor drained out of her. At 10,000ft, we were faced with all the complication elevation brings in. It was a humongous effort from people like us whose exercise was confined to driving to work, sitting behind desks and staring at computers, and bending to pick up things from the floor. The maximum heights we had reached were the ones that the staircase in our houses leads up to. Personally, I feel that the month and half of brisk walking prior to the trek helped Ayesha and me—we were all pretty impressed that Ayesha walked up all the way. No amount of coaxing got her on the mule. But then so many other kids had walked and they did not even have the comfort of a parent. As we sat around the camp, we told the kids so—if you can do this trek with the fortitude and patience you have shown and without the comfort you are used to, nothing will be impossible for you in life. The children were all tired and the common lament was. “Bah, what torture we have paid up for.” Even then, they picked up their spirits and their guts and played games till it rained. The problem was that there was no one to point out the daises to them or the mysteries that these mountains held. What the hey—there was no one to point out to us adults the deep philosophies that were born in these parts.

At this point in Tol Pani entered the Gentleman officer. Dr Manish Jha, an officer of the army, a PhD, a teacher, a father, whose love of the mountains had him help out adventure treks like this one. He rushed to help Lien. He told the girls stories. He instilled discipline in us all of keeping the camp clean, sticking to the rules and being on time. He assuaged our outrage at the misinformation we had regarding the trek. “What you need to know is on the Internet—when has the Roopkund Trail been called easy?” Maybe our excitement of it all did indeed shortcut our efforts to find out more. After a hot dinner on a wet evening, we got into our cold sleeping bags in our drafty tents. I had not been sleeping for the past two nights and I have no idea if the others had. We all used to keep quiet anyway—that night I called out to Preeti and told her I wanted to go home. She was awake but didn’t say a word. It was another night of fighting the cold, hearing the wind, the rain, the mules and their bells.

Onwards to Tol Pani, 11 May 2007

From almost the first step we took it was an uphill task—literally. We all had our faithful sturdy sticks and tackled the very narrow and tricky trails with respect. The nine of us split up—Ayesha and I go ahead with the other kids, Meena and Nayanika alternate on the Narayan’s mare, Munni, with Aparna and Lien while Liz, Priya and Preeti come in with the tail end. Dash it, I missed some spicy moments—an attempt was made to snatch Munni and Narayan , who in the state of dumb stupor probably double-dealed and promised Munni to two parties—Impedimenta (names have to be changed to protect identities, both theirs and mine) will be known for doing the entire trek on a mule but not on ours! Aparna the lovely and Preeti the Perilous (name changed again just for a while) managed to avert the kidnapping and war.

The trail was exceedingly steep. We had to stop to take in deep breaths through our mouths. The Physical Training teachers, Sunil and Narayan were our knights in shining armour—adored by the kids, armed with knowledge of how to cope with this physical stress and blessed with a sense of humor that kept us all going. Ash seemed to sprain her foot a bit but kept on with the walk till we got to a meadow. Meena began a stick-sword fight, Nanu surveyed the scenery. Sunil examined Ash's foot to massage it, asked her to look at the mountains in the distance and cranked her leg—I heard a “Ahhh…!” And then she smiled, got up and did a little dance. Thank you, Sunil—but then before we knew it the boys, Subodh, Avinash etc., sat down next to Ayesha and said, “Sir, please Sir…we need massages too.” Sunil went up to them to oblige, with me thinking, “what a nice guy” and then suddenly the PT teacher instincts came over him as he brandished a stick and said, “C’mon you Donks—walk on I say!”. The response was a lot of laughter and all us Donks along with our brethren the mules broke into run!

After a while, the run petered into a half-hearted, slow-paced hauling of each leg, one after the other, along the track. We looked down at the forests of pine and conifer and the distant mountains. We passed small hamlets with stone and thatched house. We met a new bride, Pushpa, whose husband (he proudly said he was Mister Hari Singh) egged her into posing for a photo. The women we met wore huge earrings in their ears that seemed weighed down but still in working condition. We trudged past them. Higher and higher. It was like leaving everything behind. The weather began to match our mood and the sky exhausted its sunshine to bring in the clouds. “Can you see any camps?” was the only question shouted out to the people in front. The same question posed to the local porters and guides always elicited the same response, “Bas thoda aage hai (It’s just a little ahead)” but we would see nothing ahead.

We came to some flatlands lined with mountain faces on one side and dense forest on the others and saw the trees rustling with...Monkeys! They look confident, stylish and utterly disdainful of our presence. We look at Minakshi on Munni and her fur-lined hood seemed to have emerged as a fashion trend from these guys swaying from branch to branch! Meena gives the smile of a diva and flutters her eyelashes. And we resume the trudge. Impedimenta passes by with the pony’s hooves clopping in time with her disdain of us people on foot.

Then suddenly, “Look, look—there’s a welcome banner to the camp”. With a sudden surge of energy we lunge forward to make it to just have a glimpse of this sighting and are so happy that we have reached camp by 2pm. But it’s still quite a walk to the actual camp at Tol Pani. We finally reach and tumble on to the ground. I drag out the plates from Lien’s rucksack and get Meena, Nanu and Ash, their lunch. They are amazingly full of cheer, even Ayesha, who did not take a turn on the mule. They were back to playing and chatting—it was like the weariness just drips off them like water off a duck’s back. Aparna and Lien walk in and Preeti, Priya and Liz follow. It’s so good to be back to the group of nine at the Tol Pani camps to rest our feet, ease our souls, knowing that we have jokes to laugh at, notes to exchange, updates to share and revel in a collective respite from it all.

Camp I: Raun Gadera, 10 May 2007

Our first camp: Cosy warm red and blue tents, a stream running by over rocks that have stood the test of time, green mossy banks, mules lazily grazing with their bells ringing, and the smell of food cooked over smoldering logs. Except that the tents let in the cold drafts, the water in the stream would chill a snowman, the grass was too damp to sit on, the mules snorted all night…and more: toilets that had to be visited, sleeping bags that were so cold that you did not want to slide into them, lining up for the food like prison inmates and washing the plates and mugs afterwards and not being able to have a bath. Lien of course was undaunted and stuck her head in the cold, cold stream complete with shampoo and probably conditioner too. We of less hardier souls left our hair as is and relied on wet tissues, lotion (both sunscreen and odomos…especially for Preeti…didn’t she after all ask us to buy the stuff?), talc and deodorant.

That apart, Camp Raun Gadera had the makings of a picture perfect camp (if only there was plumbing thrown in, the need for which was compounded by the fact that our children were resisting every attempt at recycling the food they had ingested since Delhi. It was worrisome for us moms but they had no complaints and merrily skipped around picking up interesting stones, wood, leafs, flowers and in Ayesha’s case little bouquets for Liz who ended up saving each one of them). The camp was clean with little dug out dump pits, affectionately called “DUMBPIT”. The stream was crystal clear and the music the water made was hypnotizing. There were river-crossing activities and the food was good. The bonfire was lit and songs were sung. Our tent was full of the gang of girls (Nikhila, Jyotsna, Usha, Priyanka, Aaliya, Anushka) and more kids, all attracted to Priya, who was becoming more like a logo for the nine of us. We got to know a lot more of our group and marveled at how parents had let some of the young ones come alone on a trek up to 12000ft. The children outnumbered us and what with the seemingly honey-covered Priya, we had children hovering all round us. They came to have their hair combed, their bags packed, and even for a good cry. Some were beginning to feel homesick—for their parents but also for the potato chips, the air-conditioning, the comfy beds and their Gameboys.

It had slowly crept on us all that trekking was not a walk in the park and that the Roopkund Trail was not for beginners. We also began to realize that it wasn’t the sunscreen that we needed. It was much more harder made harder than harder by the fact that we were all first-time trekkers not exactly in the prime physical condition. We had already given our rucksacks to the mules and now a decision was taken to get a mule for the children. Enter Narayan—we just could not decide between him and his beast as to which one was the mule. He was endearing in the way that you hate to love Donkey in Shrek. We were at 6000ft now and the climb to Tol Pani-Camp II at 10000ft was surely not going to be a joke.

We did not realise it then but we were part of an adventure that was bringing in a whole of lot of learning into our lives: about the beauty of little blue, purple and yellow flowers that dotted the landscape, the tricky challenges of the trail that this beauty shrouded, the unlearning of urban ways to adjust with the bare necessities of nature, the amazing things we did not know about our children, the warmth and support of people we were getting to know, the spice added by the intricacies of having to live within a large group at such close quarters, and in all this - holding on to oneself as an individual and just being.

From Loha Jung to Raun Gadera, 10 May 2007

We got up at Base camp with the sun and the regal peak of Nanda Ghunti. Breathtaking. One felt a surge of enthusiasm despite the dampened clothes and spirit. The children dressed and ran to the nearby Devi and Shiva temple. We gathered around after breakfast to be addressed by the organizers. “ Show respect to the Himalayas. Avoid littering, drink water in small gulps but keep yourself hydrated. On Day 3 of your trail you will be climbing half a foot higher with every step you take. Show respect and you will get it back.” The same sentiments are expressed on the base of the main tree in Loha Jung in almost Chaucer-like quaint English.

We by then have several ceremonies of our own: the adoption of Liz by Ayesha, the initiation of the Medicine woman Aparna and her assistants, family photos in the backdrop of Nanda Ghunti and a group photo of our band of women all set to scale new heights.

And then we found out, as Preeti said, why we have legs. It was a 7 km walk that was amazing. Through dense forest green woods of pines, up and down narrow rocky trails, restful meadows etc. Our paths were paved with silver, shiny rocks, trees with artistic mushroom growth, soft lichen and moss covered boughs. We stopped once in a while to look at the carpet of trees below, the mountains looming around us, and the awesome song and dance of the sun, clouds in the blue skies above us. Everything seemed to come together and damp clothes, cold camps aside, we knew it was a privilege to be part of this. We passed by villagers who were it was plain to see living a life very basic in nature. Jobs were few and most of the men were army personnel. One army chap on vacation showed us how he had channeled the stream to power his flourmill.

Talking of streams—I now know how sweet water can be. The streams were cool, clean, fresh and satiated our thirst like an answer to a prayer. Every gulp of the water was fulfilling. Our stops to look here and there had us lagging behind and we lost our way a bit just as we were about to reach Camp I—we climbed down a steep hill and used stepping stones in the stream to crossover to camp. We made it—our first day of trekking—our legs were already weary but it’s long way to go baby!