Bob's Blog

Manimahesh, Manimahesh!

The entrance to the Hindu pilgramage to the mountain and lake at Mani Mahesh Kailash

Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation will cause your worst fears to come true.
—Bodhi, Point Break

I woke at dawn in Tiyali, a small hamlet on the hillside above the Ravi River (a tributary of the mighty Indus River), in the Chamba Valley. I'd spent the previous night roughing it on a ploughed patch of farmland, and in need of a good rest, I was fortunate to find Ranjeet and his family who hosted me for the night.

The family were excited that I was walking to the mountainside of Manimahesh Kailash via the Suk Dali Pass. Every (usual) year, hundreds of thousands of Hindus make pilgrimage to the lake below the mountain, mostly in the rained soaked, yet green monsoon month of August, via the other, well trodden route via Hadsar.

According to local legend, Shiva created Manimahesh after he married goddess Parvati and he then made it their abode. Pilgrims were known to break into tears at it's sight. Ranjeet's son was so excited about my trip that he ran around repeatedly shouting "Mani Mahesh, Mani Mahesh!" – much to everyones' annoyance.

Ranjeet brought breakfast, I said my goodbyes then hit the trail. Ten minutes later, as I walked up, a distant figure shouted "Come back, come back!" Figured it must be me they were shouting to. What? OK. Why? Did I forget something? GPS check, Oh! I am going the wrong way. "Thank you!"

Back on track, I began to head towards the village of Kalah, and I was soon accompanied by a friendly man and his bull. At one point, when I was ahead, I came across a blazing fire on the track with billowing smoke. I could just see through it and the flames were not close, so I started to head through, but noticing the guy just behind, I turned back and thought, better let him do it first!

As I retreated, the fire took to the path and the smoke thickened. A minute later, and as my companion caught up, the fire eased somewhat. I would have waited longer but he didn't hesitate and ran straight on through. So holding my breath, I ran as quickly as I could, unable to see a thing, hoping the path was straight!

After chai in Kalah, I said goodbye to my brief companion. He told me something about the route; at the triangle, past a sheep pen, go down, or was it don't go down? With limited comprehension between the two of us, I couldn't be sure which. Still, I had my map and GPS, no worries. But follow the arrows (aka white paint on the rocks), he definitely did say that.

Got past the sheep pen, and the obvious route went up, the other, less trodden – my GPS route – went down. What was it he said, go down? Hmmmm. Stick to the trail or follow my GPS. I decided to follow the GPS and went down; crossed a river via a log bridge, and not long after some scrambling realised that I should have taken the other route.

I debated whether I should change track and walk all that way back. Na. I'll just stick with it. I would have to cross the river again, I just had to hope there was another bridge!

After hacking through the overgrown route, I got back to the river. No bridge. Just the remains of an old one. The river was narrow-ish, yet deep and powerful in sections. Perhaps I could have waded through, but it would have been risky. I scoured up and down for a place to boulder hop, yet most were wet. Jump and possibly slip, not good.

Eventually I found a dry spot and tried it minus my bag – no probs. With heavy bag, hmmm. Looked up and down the river again. OK, this spot was my best bet. Grabbed my bag, went to the rock and told myself, don't hesitate. So jumped, once, twice – made it no probs. Shelter just up ahead, happy days.

Got the the shelter, and despite looking a bit beaten up ,it was nice and cozy. Straw floor, pots, pans, all very clean, and a water hose nearby. Couldn't ask for much more. There were two shacks; one had a rucksack in, so I took the other. I cooked some noodles, rested and enjoyed the solitude.

In the early evening, three guys arrived. They were scouting for a medicinal plant and what they had collected, they were drying on metal sheeting, lain in the ruins of a nearby cottage.

When they finished their work, they invited me into their shack for chai. The oldest of the guys started a fire and made great food for us all, using a pressure cooker for rice and lentils, and baking the roti directly in the fire.

It wasn't far off freezing at night, though I slept warm and well. I woke before my alarm at 5.30am. I had a massive bowl of porridge and the guys joined me on the first section up, continuing their hunt. Just before I had to cross a series of semi-frozen waterfalls on the steepening route up, they said farewell and wished me luck.

The steep way up to the pass looked daunting. I couldn't quite believe it was even possible. Though, taking it step by step, turn by turn, the intimidating became the inspiring, with each soaring view.

Arriving to the Suk Dali Pass, I could finally see Manimahesh Kailash, with views forward to the Pir Panjal range, and back towards the Dhauladhar. I continued down to the lakeside, which was pretty empty except for one dhaba and a few day-trippers. I stopped for chai and made my way down through deserted pilgrim settlements and made camp near the trail's end at Hadsar.