Bob's Blog

Over the Hills

Clouds gathering over the Indrahar Pass, and the Dhaula Dhar mountain range

We are asleep. Our Life is a dream. But we wake up sometimes, just enough to know that we are dreaming.
—Ludwig Wittgenstein

I had spent most of the monsoon in Dharamkot in the Kangra valley and now it was over there would be a short window where the high passes were still not too cold and first snows had yet to arrive. I planned to make the most of it.

First up, from the Kangra valley, over the Dhaula Dhar Range via the Indrahar Pass to Chamba and the Ravi Valley. It would be as low as -8°C at the passes, so I brought a lot of cold weather gear, making my bag weigh so much, I almost toppled over when I put it on.

I thought that leaving on a Friday, I would avoid the weekend crowds coming up from the cities. Alas, it was Gandi's birthday, and a three day weekend. So off I set, late in the day to Triund, with the noisy chattering hordes, blaring their music as they walked.

The next day the boom boxes and their owners continued, though the further I hiked up, the more distant they became. On the way I passed a migrating shepherd and his flock and made it to camp at Lahesh Cave (Hindi name for the last cave, or rock overhang, before a mountain pass). Peace and quiet, at last!

The next day I was up before dawn, aiming to get up and over the pass before the afternoon clouds rolled in. It was a good climb, steep yet marked so well by cairns that it was easy to follow. The views of the Pir Panjal beyond the Chamba valley were amazing and really looked like the natural barrier to the end of Hindu lands.

The route down was super steep, and after losing the trail, I ended up on all fours, crawling and sliding down huge rock faces. I got to a point where it was so steep that I had to unbuckle my heavy bag, as it was pulling me down over the edge. I sat on the edge of a rock with my walking stick keeping me in place, as I swung my bag over into a crevice of the rock.

With no easy way back up, I could manage it down safely, but my bag was a different matter. I would have to grab my bag, swing it around me and drop it into a gully just below, making sure that the momentum didn't take me with it.

So I flipped the bag, backing myself into the rock face as much as I could, then let go as it started to pull. It reached the gully but then bounced itself most of the way to the bottom. Well at least that wasn't me!

After the drama of the initial decent, the trail became clearer, coming to overgrown meadows and pine forests, which meandered their way down, alongside the glacial river to the Chamba valley and the Ravi River.

After a few hours of hiking, I arrived at a river crossing, which once across, would take me down towards the village of Kuarsi. The crossing was usually via a permanent snow bridge and it really marked the end of no-mans-land.

However, when I arrived, I couldn't figure out how to cross. Nothing looked obvious. There was a snow bridge of sorts, but the top was not connected to the land, it was whisper thin and melting fast. The route down to the bank was super steep, and with my bag, it seemed way too dodgy.

I could see two logs bridging the river – which must have been put there by someone. The river wasn't so wide, but it was powerful and getting down to it was no easy task. After more than an hour, I left my bag behind and slipped down the steep terrain to the bank and the edge of the glacier. I ducked underneath the glacier, hopped some rocks and made it to the logs. OK, it was possible! But no way was I coming the same way with my bag.

Returning to the top, I made a plan to lower my bag down by rope in another spot. I could go the way I just went, retrieve my bag and make it across!

Yet just in that very instance, the side of the permeant glacier bridge just collapsed. It smashed down into the river, a massive, massive chunk of glacier. Smashing into hundreds of pieces, right where I had just walked. It almost hit the logs out of their place. Not such the permanent snow bridge anymore!

I had been considering a retreat beforehand, and now that thought returned with more pertinence. Should I go back to a cave I had seen, sleep on it and come back refreshed in the morning. Or should I go even further back, to a shepherd I had passed and ask him about the crossing - there was no chance his flock had crossed here.

In the end, despite the shock of what just happened, I decided to push on. I had a plan. The glacier had already fallen, the other section appeared to be holding up. I would however, have to go behind that other section to get my bag, but if it did fall, it 'should' fall forward into the river. The rest looked fine, except now having to clamber over huge chunks of ice.

I roped up my bag and descended to the place where I would lower it, right next to the connecting glacier. Job done. It sat at an angle, though was sturdy enough in its position. I crossed my fingers in hope.

I clambered down my route and nervously approached the glacier. I couldn't get very close to my bag, so I found a long stick and used it to grab the attached rope. I pulled the rope, and the bag lurched down towards the glacier. Out popped a water bottle, which bounced down underneath. No way I am retrieving that I thought. I managed to pull my bag up, then quickly got away from the glacier. I then clambered over the ice chunks, hopped a few rocks, took my shoes off and shimmied over the two logs.

I was so happy and relieved to have made it across. I was probably at that section for two hours. I was now down on water supplies and needed to fill up. And yet as I went back to the river, I was still within reach if the glacier fell, and was too nervous to even fill my bottle properly!

After an exhilarating day, 12 hours on the move, I'd made it to Chamba and the Ravi Valley, marked by a Hindu shrine. Immediately after there were the Mandhara Caves to sleep, shepherds in the meadow just below and Kuarsi Village not far beyond. I ate well and fell into a deep sleep.