The Journey

I suppose none of us were too apprehensive just yet, we weren't actually arriving in India that day; that was still 48hrs away. Reality had not yet set in, but did with an earth shuddering bang when we touched down in Delhi. Why did deformed malnourished kids want my money? Why is that guy driving up the wrong side of the street? But personally my main problem was, "Why the ****  am I leader?" With a stroke of genius, well perhaps fluke, we were able to secure a bus into Delhi, and later a bus to Manali, some 18hrs north.

However before that we took a ride in a rickshaw, worth the trip alone, and were given an important insight into driving in India. In broken English the driver announced, "You need good horn, good brake and good luck" No wonder people find driving boring in Britain.

The road to Manali:

As we mounted the bus for Manali, the next problem became apparent. What is one supposed to do on an 18hr bus ride, where the seats acted like pogo sticks, and ones sweat pores were intent on creating your own personal Niagara Falls? Despite the unbearable heat in the bus with no air-conditioning, the sight of screaming rickshaws, the chaotic traffic and the poverty of the ramshackle Delhi slums brought the first taste of India. The bus rattled northwards through the night with no respite from the constant tooting of horns and flashing of headlights. After many sleepless hours, we reached the foothills where the rain cooled the air and we could breathe again.

Manali is perched high up in the lush mountains north of Kullu valley. This little town is a hive of activity, a tourist centre and a base for all those seeking more strenuous adventures. It is a vibrant place with myriad of languages and cultures intermingling to produce sights and sounds so enchanting and captivating that it was hard not to stare at faces. Nepalese, Tibetan, Punjabi, Kashmiri and Indian cultures extend and enrich our experience in every way. Eating places exude delicious aromas and tempt the palate. Street vendors accost you at  every step eager to drop the price as long as you are willing to buy. Looking down on all this are the towering mountains peaks, silent giants clothed in forests of Deodar and Rehi trees.

Manali

It was now that the team started to function like clockwork. Within 30 minutes of arriving in Manali we were all accommodated in an ideal hotel which was well within budget. After the horrors of Delhi, the beggars and slum conditions here seemed almost tolerable.

With only 2 days to prepare for a 15 day trek, our work was cut out. All food and equipment needed to be purchased, transport organised and some sort of acclimatisation trek needed to be fitted.

We took time off to do a bit of exploring. A short walk into the hills behind Manali took us to the Hidimba Devi Temple sitting  silently among giant deodar trees that stand guarding its sanctity. It was built by Raja Rahadur Singh in 1553. Various deities. Mahisasurmardini, Siva, Vishnu and Lakshmi are all featured on the carvings on the wooden door. But all is not silence in the grounds of the temple.

Snake charmers persuade us to wrap constrictors round our necks for the cameras and a host of other vendors provide a sharp contrast to the peace within the temple.

The Trek to Hampta Pass:

With all preparation done, we set out on Friday 6th of July for our trek. For many this was the part which had been looked forward to for months, for others, the part they were secretly dreading. During the following 15 days the group of intrepid explorers climbed to over 5,100m, crossed glaciated rivers in bare feet, saw men carrying planks of wood at least double their size, and experienced some of the most spectacular scenery ever imaginable.  During the first few days we climbed from the valley floor into lush alpine valleys, passing many tea houses on the way. Very quickly a fundamental problem arose, "Where's my lunch?"... "Is that it, one mango?" or "One bag of cremica biscuits" We had purchased 80 bags of crisps and 40 packs of Ritz biscuits aswell, but oddly enough they never seemed to disappear. The horsemen though (the men in charge of the horses and donkeys who carried our equipment) were once or twice been seen eating crisps.

On the first day of the trek to Sethen village, nineteen trekkers, twenty mules, six horsemen, a cook( Bhaktram) and a guide( Hirnam) set off from Prini village on the outskirts of Manali, climbing steeply up the mountain covered with forests and lush vegetation. Orchids and wild strawberries were abundant. We passed a Buddhist village half way up the mountainside, stopping occasionally to drink from the streams. Sethen village lies at 3000m. Local language is a dialect known as Boti. The sight of an old man carrying a huge beam of wood and an old woman bent double under the weight of wood, somehow made me feel ashamed and inadequate. Our first camp site lay beyond Sethen village surrounded by colossal cliffs partly shrouded in mist like a Chinese painting. It was not long before we were snuggled in our tents after a meal of DHF, rice and custard! Outside the mules grazed as the tinkle of their bells echoed softly among the huge rocks and a variety of birds chirped among the tall trees.

Chikka:

Next camp site at Chikka at 3300m. On the way up passed a small settlement where a couple of children asked for toffee! Cliff tops stood hidden in the clouds. We camped by a raging river that hurtled from the glaciers above all the way down to the river at Manali. Beautiful Indian wagtails and redstarts skipped from rock to rock. I huddled round the stove in the cook's tent. Outside, the mist clouds descended ominously. I asked Hirnam and Bhaktram about the people in the mountains. They talked about the many different ethnic groups. There are twelve languages spoken in these mountains, some of them are variations of Hindi. But Nepalese and Kashmiri is also spoken. The local people move up the mountains in the summer with their herds of goats and sheep. On small terraced patches of land they grow wheat, corn and a variety of vegetables. I looked at my guests. Bhaktram was Nepalese and Hirnam was from a region to the south of Manali. Doduram's chai-hut on the way to Hampta Pass. This was a welcome sight as we had to cross a river first. At nearly 4000m the chance to rest and be treated to a hot cup of chai was bliss. Doduram and his family live on the slopes during the summer months, gathering a local root called 'thoup' which is used for making incense for the temples. One kilo of thoup fetches about 10 pence in the market. The root is ground into a powder, then mixed with fat or oil so that it will burn slowly. Doduram and I sat watching his family work. It is strange, he said, that while people from the cities marvel at the mountains and their beauty, people like him wonder about the comforts and ease of life down in the valleys. Hirnam related the tale of the three German trekkers who were attacked by bandits here, a couple of years ago. One was killed and the other two injured but managed to reach Doduram's chai-hut. He helped them to reach Manali safely.

Hampta Pass:

On our fourth day we reached the Hampta Pass, at 4,300m before descending to 3,700m to camp. This was no doubt the hardest day, with all us wheezing on the thin air. That is all of us minus Hernan, our guide. This man was incredible. During the 15 days of trekking he never once looked as if he wasn't just taking a stroll in the park. One morning the level of a river needing to be crossed required checking. So Hernan ran up and down in an hour; it took us 2 hours just to get there.

Having descended back down to 3,000m on day 5, and rested day 6, the remaining 9 days were spent gradually ascending to 5,100m. (bearing in mind Mont Blanc is 4,807m.) A typical diary extract from this period reads:

"Having eaten my usual fill of porridge, we were informed that we would be crossing the glacial muddy vortex of river who's floodplain we had been sleeping on the night before. There were a small number of fortunate people with a pair of sandals they could don for our epic vigil across the unforgiving torrent that would soon chill our tricuspid valve and freeze our pancreatic juices. However through sheer teenage hormonal determination we battled across with surprisingly few fatalities."

( I am told altitude does something to the mind)

Chattru:

A night out at Chattru. On the other side of the Hampta Pass and strategically located at the road bridge over the Chandra river are a clump of Dhabas, small huts where travellers can stop and eat. We were camped across the river. Trek over the Pass was hard and exhausting and we were glad that this was going to be a rest day! A quick survey of the menus was enough to convince us of the culinary delights on offer- chappatis, vegetable curry, omelettes, chow mein, soup and so on. We were not fussy! Nineteen hungry trekkers soon depleted the stocks at the Dhabas, much to the delight of the owners. Before leaving Britain, we had been informed that most of us would probably get 'Delhi-Belly'. Unfortunately this was largely true, and over the following nights one would be woken by exclaimations such as, "Sh*t where's the toilet paper" The extent of this was not realised until we got back on the scales at home. As a group we easily lost 20 stone. The lunch situation never improved and so despite stomachs acting like bladders, food was always the topic of discussion, from the type of pizza we would have in Amman Airport, the Irn Bru we craved and the steak we all wanted so badly, they were all mentioned. The subject of meat often came up, as after having observed meat preparation, or lack of, we all followed strictly vegetarian diets, except for the night we had the goat. That was perhaps one of the best meals I have ever eaten while under canvas. As it was our rest day, there was time to prepare the meat, so that morning we purchased a live goat for 1,100 Rupees (roughly £20) and watched it, all drooling, being savagedly slaughtered by the butcher's knife, which was decidedly blunt and rusty.

Chandra Tal:

A feast fit for a king. The rest day beside the blue lake at Chandra Tal( 4270m) was a chance to rest and wash our clothes. It was a  warm sunny day with a fresh breeze blowing across the lake. Having lived on a diet of rice and daal  for the first ten days of the trek, this was a chance to be creative as far as the menu was concerned. We spotted a goat herd. Would it be wonderful to buy a goat and have a goat stew in the evening? The idea was eagerly endorsed by most of the team. Some could not muster up enough sense of adventure to be enthusiastic about the idea. However, Hirnam was able to negotiate a deal for 1200 rupees - much more than we would have paid down in Manali but financial prudence was not a priority, a feast was! So the reluctant goat was tied up and we waited for the moment when it would put slaughtered that evening. Hirnam, who could not stay and watch took off up the nearest hill until the animal was slaughtered, skinned and prepared for the pot. Most of the boys stood and watched. So this is what happens before the steak reaches the supermarket shelf? Fortunately, there were no animal rights protestors about!

So having rested at Lake Chandratal, a beautiful bluey-greeny lake surrounded by mountains one would expect to find in the Middle East, we only had 4 more days till the infamous Baralacha la - our final destination. These days were perhaps easier, with the knowledge of the end being so near. The views from this altitude were unbelievable, being able to see 7,000m mountains belonging to The Great Himalayan Range which must have been some hundreds of miles away. However these views came with a price; even attempting to climb a slope no steeper than the Royal Mile caused ones lungs to wheeze and put ones heart into serious overdrive. But eventually 'evening came and morning came the 15th day' and within 3hrs, including one glacial river to cross, we reached our goal. We now stood at the point we had given blood, sweat and tears for, for 15 days. I think it was only now we truly comprehended why we had signed up for such an expedition.

Topko  Yongma:

The night before the last day to Baralacha Pass was very cold. We had camped at Topko Yongma(4640m). Both Mike and I decided to put on our thermals as well as other woollens and zip up our sleeping bags right up to the chin. The temperature drops very sharply as soon as the sun sets behind the mountains. So it was still very cold and frosty when we awoke early next morning. We waited for the first rays of sunshine to appear over the ridges and we stood in the sun to thaw out! Below the campsite the Chandra river raged icely back down the way we had come. To our left stood a range of majestic peaks, glistening in the morning sun- KR5 standing at 22000ft. All the peaks from Baralacha to Batal are, according to Bhaktram, numbered from KR1 to KR 20. He told me that a few years ago he had actually climbed KR5 with a 65 year old Japanese mountaineer and had nearly lost his toes as a result of frost bite. I felt truly humbled as I trudged on, following the rest of the group towards the last campsite at Baralacha, in eager anticipation of a good night's rest and the bus journey back to Manali the next morning.

Delhi:

We arrived in Delhi in the early evening and were told that the shops would not be open the next day and so if we wanted to do any last minute shopping it would have to been done that day. The last day in India we could do what we wanted. We had the opportunity to visit some of the sites in Delhi or just relax around the hotel and surrounding area. In the evening we went out for a final meal as a team and after this we set off to the airport saying our farwells to Mr Hashmi who was going to travel around for slightly longer. We waited in Delhi airport for six hours before our flight. We arrived in Amman and had three hours before our next flight. We were delayed for 6 hours, which caused us to miss our connecting flight from London to Edinburgh. We spent the night on the floor of Stansted airport. In the morning we had to book new tickets to Edinburgh and were lucky to get on to the 6:30am flight. We arrived back in Edinburgh having all completed the trek, the community project, surviving illness and experiencing a different culture and way of life. A great experience for all involved which will be long remembered. Thanks must go to Mr Hashmi and Mr Bryce for agreeing to join us on the trip, World Challenge for their organisation and contacts in the country, and lastly to Jamie Miller, our leader, for all his encouragement and trekking knowledge.