Sangla and Chitkul

On 7th October, Friday, after school and office for many of us, we met at the Dwarka Sector 21 airport metro station at around 7:30. Six of us, Elvis, Sreelekha, Natasha, Riya, Siby and I, travelled by metro to the Kashmiri Gate bus stand. The short walk from the metro station to the bus stand seemed like a battle: it seemed as though the whole of Delhi was leaving Delhi. For the first time I saw long lines of people waiting to enter the ISBT.

We waited for Tom, who was coming from Gurgaon and running a little late. After finding out which platform our bus left from, we  hurried down and waited for Tom. He arrived, out of breath, a few minutes before 9:30. Luckily the bus was running a little late too, so we had time to catch up and have some of the rolls and brownies that Sreelekha had brought for us.

The bus journey was very comfortable. We reached Shimla at around 6:45 in the morning. Then we looked for a place to freshen up and eat something. We walked upwards to a small dhaba which was the only one open. After ordering for toasts, parathas and coffee and tea, Tom and I walked back to the bus station to locate a washroom. Tom had not been feeling good in the tummy and I felt it best to relieve myself as much as possible considering the long road journey that lay ahead of us.

After breakfast we walked back to the bus station, to find a bus to Sangla; that's where we were going to be staying. We learned that the direct bus from Shimla to Sangla had left just 10 minutes before. We explored other options and found a bus going to Reckong Peo. It would stop at Karchham on the way, from where we would get another vehicle to Sangla.

It was a private, small sized bus. Since the seats were already occupied, four of us were adjusted onto the gear box. It was just 320 rupees for Shimla to Karchham. But we hadn't asked the duration before paying. We had boarded at around 8 am and were told, after we bought the tickets, that we would reach Karchham only by around 5.30 pm.

After the previous night's smooth journey, this ride was very uncomfortable, even painful at times, especially for the big, tall ones amongst us. Every time we could, each of us caught some wink time. Though it was difficult to balance oneself, first on the gearbox and later on the mercifully gotten seat, weariness eventually got the better of us, and we slept.

We reached Karchham past 5.30. It's not a town, just a bridge over the river, quite close to the dam. There were some vehicles around. Everyone, including the bus conductor, whom I had marked down as cunningly cruel for putting seven grown people into an already full bus on a long journey, was keen on helping us.

A little after the bus left, a mini truck pulled up near the bridge and we asked if he would take us to Sangla. He said he would, for 800. But only 5 of us could fit on the seats. And he couldn't allow us to ride in the back because of frequent checks en route. It was already quite dark, so five of us trooped in and set off. Tom and Siby hitchhiked with another mini truck. Our mini truck driver, Chaman Bhaiya, promised to arrange for our visit to Chitkul the next day.

We reached Sangla Resort, a modest hotel, at around 7.30. Our host-cook-caretaker-in-one, Ramesh ji, the only staff at the place, welcomed us and began preparing our dinner. We were given three rooms on the first floor, all of them linked on the balcony. After freshening up and admiring the clearly visible night sky, we sat down to dinner. Being extremely hungry, we dug in in silence, while Ramesh ji talked nonstop. Tired of close to twenty four hours of journeying, we retired early, hopeful about the next day.

Early next morning, I woke up around 2.45 and couldn't go back to sleep. I tried till around 5 and then gave up. Riya and Natasha on my either side had also been only trying to sleep without disturbing the other two for a long time. Then the light came on and our voices rose. Hearing us, Siby from the next room knocked on our door and announced that he'd been awake and bored for an hour. We decided to play UNO, a game we love to play, but whose rules we can never agree upon‚ which makes it all the more engaging and entertaining.

But we couldn't get through the first game because the others started waking up and we decided it was time to get ready. Around this time we were made aware, by some who wandered onto the balcony, of the view we had been asleep to. Mountains all around. Some of them had snow on them, some trees, and some were bare rocks. We also had the privilege of plucking a succulent green apple off a tree that we could reach from the balcony. Our hotel sat in a tiny apple orchard. We were served breakfast by Ramesh ji at 8. Buttered toast and orchard-fresh apple jam.

Views from the balcony

At around 9, Chaman Bhaiya came to pick us up in his mini truck. We could all travel together now because there was no checking between Sangla and Chitkul, lucky us. Four of us decided to ride in the back, though only two needed to. The ride at the back was bumpy, cold and demanding on the arm muscles, yet every bit worth it.

The views made up for everything: the mountains in green, white and brown; the river flowing against us, lusty green and frothy white; the banks with some dry white mud, some black rocks, some trees of all shapes and some fields in yellow, red, green; and of course the sky, tauntingly blue, with an occasional lonely white wisp of cloud. The thrill of riding in the open back of a truck was just a happy bonus. The way the road was cut into the mountains was impressive, especially at points where the overhanging rocks stood watch menacingly. All of this could best be admired only rooflessly.

   

   

 

The roofless ride to Chitkul

About halfway to Chitkul from Sangla lies the Rakcham village. We halted here, walked down to the river and took in the crisp air and the rushing waters. Though we were the only ones when we got down, soon other tourists began climbing down from the road onto the river bank. There were many potato farms on small pieces of flat land. Many of them had already been harvested, flaunting bundled up stalks of burnt pink.

         

At Rakchham

At Chitkul we drove up to the final checkpoint where we spoke to a few army men. They refused to let us further, but allowed us to go down to the river near there, provided we did not move towards or took pictures of their camp, which looked really impressive, complete with a helipad and all. So we walked off the road and down to the Baspa river.

Chitkul

  

We were the only ones there. We took our time taking pictures, admiring and meditating silently on the lure of the constantly inconstant green water and the sentinel mountains stretching layer after layer after layer. After taking in all that bounty of nature, we walked up back to the road, rode a few minutes to reach the Chitkul village, where we had lunch. The ride downhill to Sangla was colder, and required a doubling of jackets for me. We reached back around 4.30.

We retired to our own rooms, freshened up, and rested for a while. Later in the evening, two of us went out to the Sangla market to explore a bit and ended up in the lower, old Sangla village, climbing back up from where was a task. On the way we saw a board pointing to our hotel Sangla Resort, suggesting an alternate path. We decided to explore it later.

We came back to our rooms, played some UNO and chilled on the balcony till late, before going to bed. During dinner some of us had not been so sure about the next day's planned trip to Reckong Peo and Kalpa. Riya said she won't go anywhere, and the rest of us decided to judge by how we feel and at what time we'd wake up the next morning.

I woke up to pee at around a quarter past two. I hadn't slept well until then, and after that I couldn't sleep at all. After a few minutes I asked Riya if she was awake, and she was. I suggested we play Uno outside in the lobby. We trooped out carrying the cards collected from the previous night's scatter, a blanket, pillows, our phones etc.

After playing for a while we realized it wasn't much fun with just two players and so started looking at the previous day's photos on Riya's new phone. After about an hour of being awake, we decided to go up on the terrace to watch the stars. With a mobile torch handy, we tried to be very, very quiet up the stairs, but were told later that we weren't. We were very scared and kept the torch on. But the sight we were treated to, made up for the cold and the fear.

The sky was star-studded. So, so many of them. And the highlight of the venture: shooting stars. Plural. And planets. And another galaxy, according to Riya. As our eyes adjusted to the dark we also saw a faint arm of the milky way. Driven by the cold, and more by fear, we went back down and tried to increase the strength of our number.

We tried waking Natasha who said we're out of our minds. Siby, who was already awake, refused to surface from under the blanket and did not budge. I strengthened my stock of woollens and taking a blanket, a bar of snickers and two chairs, we slowly made our way back up and settled snugly on the chairs. A few minutes later, frightening us, Natasha came up with a torch, and demanded to see the milky way. But, not being able to fight sleep for long enough to adjust to seeing in the dark, she went back disappointed.

After a good amount of time, a startling visit from Ramesh ji and several shooting stars later, Riya and I climbed down, back to our rooms and into the blankets. We had been settled in for hardly 15 minutes when Siby came banging on our door, in revenge, saying we must go up to see the stars right away. We agreed, got up, woollened up again, and picking up chairs, blanket and torch, made our third trip to the terrace.

We spotted more shooting stars and a slightly reddish celestial body moving very slowly, quite unlike the shooting stars, down the sky a few centimetres and getting lost among some stars. It having become colder, Riya left after a while. While Siby and I sat craning our necks up to the sky, somebody came at the door, looked in (out) and went back noiselessly. I had seen all this out of the corner of my eye, too scared and too cold to turn. When I told Siby, he said he thought he'd seen someone too. We'd even heard footsteps. Creepy. 

We came back down after some time and began playing Uno with Riya, silently, compulsively, as if there was no other purpose to existence. Once we started feeling hungry, we woke up Elvis to hand us our bag of junk food, and, munching, we continued playing. As it started becoming light outside, more of the others started waking up and joined the Uno table.

By 8 we were all ready for breakfast and by 8.15 we trudged out to get the bus that Ramesh ji had said would take us to Reckong Peo. Just before we exited the hotel gate he learned from a phone call that the bus had been engaged by a wedding party and would not run that day. He said we should try anyway, in the market and at the bus stand, for a break journey on hitchhikes. We did as Ramesh ji suggested and asked around, asked some jeep drivers and waited at the bus stop.

                    

Bus stand with a view

Around 9.30, we decided against Reckong Peo altogether, and went ahead with the backup plan of exploring the Sangla village itself. We started walking towards the Kamru fort with local directions. Google said it was only a short hike to the fort. The last person we asked, said it'll take us an hour to get there, but only 10 minutes back from there. He then pointed out the outer walls of the fort visible on a hill dozens of feet above us. We knew right then that we'd collectively take way more than an hour to reach there. We clicked a few pictures and said, "Yes we've seen the fort. Next."

We started walking back to the main market but got distracted by a small lane leading to the right. We followed it and walked on and on downhill, along small streams, past some houses, through some fields, and across a waste strewn nalla which led us to the river. Once there, we chilled on the stony bank for quite some time, wondering more than once if there were a dam upstream that could be released without warning. There was a cow on the opposite bank, which seemed to have fallen to her death from the road carved into the cliff high above the river. The dog who had joined us on our downhill journey halfway, was chilling with us, and was happy to be fed off the junk from our bags.

The winding hike to the river at Sangla

On our uphill journey, we divided into two. Siby, Sreelekha and I decided that the path that Elvis, Natasha and Tom were taking, was too damp, slippery and risky. So we aimed ourselves at the path that seemed more direct and very visible. All we needed to do was jump across a stream of the river at its shallowest, onto the bank, and then go on a slightly steep, yet clean climb up the hill to reach the path that lay flat across the hill.

So we bid the three goodbye and set forth on our plan. When we reached the part where we thought the river would be shallow, we found it wasn't enough to get through with dry shoes. Throwing a few stones into the water, we raised the bed a little to cross safely. That was the easier bit. The bank we jumped onto, was damp, and sank beneath our feet. Uncharacteristic of hill folk, the two men working at that exact point, never said anything nor offered any advice the whole time; they just paused their work and looked at us.

Anyway, once we clambered over the wet mud and loose rocks, we realized that what had seemed to be a path from afar, was actually a rock stone fence. We laboriously climbed up the track of loose, dusty mud next to the fence, clutching it for dear life. We slipped several times, in constant danger of sliding all the way down, one after the other, to the river again. 😂

Then some workers higher up here told us to climb up the fence and walk on it. We did, and it was indeed much easier. So much for keeping our feet on the ground. 😒 At a point, the fence shifted and we had to climb over a crumbling wooden gate. The last few metres before we reached the flat path were fenceless and we were forced back on to the dusty path. There were a bunch of women under a makeshift tent placed parallel to us, who laughed freely, watching us scrambling awkwardly in the dirt. Dusty, and slightly shaken, we finally had our feet firm on horizontal ground and were happy for having gone through with our plan. 😎

           

           

Adventurers divided in two

Looking back at the way we came

Asking for directions, we reached the old Sangla village and climbed uphill to the main market. There we stopped at a roadside shop for tea and samosas and packed a few for the others. (I felt just a little bad when we heard that they had travelled back to the hotel on a truck.) The three of us took the alternate route to the hotel (the one we'd discovered the previous evening) After some time at our rooms, we headed out again for lunch and reached a restaurant that seemed hardly ever visited, with layers of dust on the tables. But because everything is always dusty there, we sat on.

We placed the order, and after what seemed like a very long time, the plates came, greasy and dusty. Elvis and Sreelekha left to get tissue paper. They came back with cold drinks, chocolates, samosa, pakodas and tissue paper. We decided to eat the roasted chicken, shahi paneer and butter rotis off the serving bowls - community dining. All this, just to avoid our food touching another dusty surface before it reached our mouths.

Then we got back to the hotel and finally, I caught some much needed sleep. In the evening we played Uno again and after dinner, settled accounts with Ramesh ji. We played a little longer, keeping off the balcony as the night had suddenly grown colder, and then retired for the night.

The next morning we had to catch a bus to Shimla at 6.30. Being a government bus, Ramesh ji assured us on enquiry, that it wouldn't take off on wedding errands. 😅 So we hurried the morning rituals, though the boys' bathroom had no water.

After a few slices of toasts, and with backpacks strapped on, we walked down from our hotel in parts, and reached the bus stand a few minutes before 6.30 and there we saw why it had grown cold the previous night. The bare peaks we had seen from the bus stand the day before, were now generously powdered with snow, sparkling in the early morning sun.

           

       

Snow powdered hills

as we say goodbye to Sangla

The bus was scheduled to start at Rakcham and the approximate arrival at Sangla was 6.30 a.m. It was customary for the bus to be a little late. There were several other people waiting there for the same bus and we had given up all hopes of getting any seat. The boys started a game of kicking and keeping a stone between them and I joined to pass the time.

At around 7, the bus arrived. When we reached the door with our bags, for a few moments it seemed as if some of us would have to travel on the roof along with our luggage. I got excited at the prospect of yet another rooftop adventure. Seeing the gleam in my eyes, one of the boys discouraged me, "No Didi. It's too cold and steep." I wordlessly conceded, jealously. But then, as is usually the case with the Indian transport arrangements, all of us were squeezed into the warmth of the little bus before it set off.

The bus conductor here was way more considerate than the one on our onward journey. When he learned that we're travelling all the way to Shimla, he pointed out the seats that would turn vacant at certain points, and told us that we must position ourselves strategically to take them at the right time. 😉

Our journey was thus, far from stressful, and we reached the Tutikandi bus stand at around 5. Since we had a few hours before we boarded the bus to Delhi, we deposited our bags at the cloak room and took a taxi to the mall road. We walked on to a cute little pizza place where we ordered a giant pizza for eight. We walked up the mall road, ate jalebi, bought a bottle of apple wine for later and went up to the doorstep of the church. Then we took the taxi back to the bus stand. After collecting our bags, we played another game of Uno on the bus stand floor. 

At Shimla

Though the bus was to leave at 9, it had already arrived at the bay. So we boarded and settled into our comfy seats, with footrests! 😀 We each got two glass bottoms of the apple wine and finished off our trip with a comfortable sleep on the luxurious HRTC bus.

All pictures of and by Elvis, Sreelekha, Tom, Siby, Riya and Natasha included with their permission.