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.