I got a bus from the sprawling Sector 43 to Dharamshala (Rs. 356) without much delay. The bus was empty for the most part, so I managed to get three seats to myself. That, however, proved absolutely useless as I still couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. The driver hurtled through the night on the mountainous terrain, flinging me every which way.
Resigned to my fate, I sat and started at the vehicles passing by until we reached our destination. I reached at about 4:30 on the rainy morning and was left stranded in the middle of a highway. A taxi finally arrived, which I hired (Rs.300) to take me up to McLeod Ganj (the Tibetian settlement). The taxi dropped me off at the main square. Dark, damp and shivering, I half considered getting a room
just to dump my bags. I walked up to the closest chaiwala to get something that would warm my bones. As I sipped on a cup of tea, a cop who had just finished his duty for the night stopped by.
Somewhere along the line as the conversation progressed, I was offered a drink that I gladly accepted. Four stiff drinks after, both Rakesh (the chaiwala) and Sandeep (the cop) adopted me as their brother of sorts and even offered to take me wherever I wanted to go in the area. My plans were still quite nascent at this stage so I told them I would let them know.
I left my bags with Rakesh and headed to the Dalai Llamas temple. Located about a kilometre from the main square, it is a modern looking building which houses numerous pressure wheels and two distinctive shrines. Whilst small, the aura of spirituality hangs around it, further compounded by devotees deep in prayer and the constant chanting of the Llamas. I stayed for a few minutes in silence, staring at the snowy peaks in the background. Feeling unburdened and energetic, I headed to Bhagsun to see the temple and the waterfall. The temple is a minor affair but it stands adjacent to this public pool which overlooks the mountains. The waterfall involves a bit of a walk, but as you reach, you see this clear body of water crashing into this crystal clear pool that formed at its base. I sat at this picturesque spot for a breakfast of cheese toast, and as I left, I tossed a coin into the gurgling waters for good luck.
I’ve always had a childhood obsession with snow. When my parents offered my sisters and I the opportunity to travel the world, all I asked for was to go to Shimla and see the snow. Having noticed the snow capped peaks earlier, I resolved to trek up to Triund. Based on the advice of my friend who took that route, who stated that it was only six kilometres, relatively easy and would take only three hours. Unfortunately all of that was untrue. It was ten kilometres, the gradient was hell and because of what he said, I ended up carrying all my luggage (weighing about eighteen kilos) up the mountain with me. I started off from McLeod at around 8:30am and was utterly exhausted not fifteen minutes later. As I wandered through the path, there were times where I went for fifteen to twenty minutes without seeing anyone else. About three fourth of the way to the start point, I hitched a ride to the start point on the back of a utility truck. I profusely thanked them and started again. You can get a taxi to the start point in Dharamkot, something I would strongly suggest to those who aren’t trekkers or who aren’t as robustly built.
The initial climb was relatively easy and the gradient not as steep. I finally reached the first checkpoint where I ate Maggi (which is not banned in H.P.). I considered leaving my bag there but decided otherwise as I figured it couldn’t be that much further. I couldn’t be further from reality, it took me an hour to the next checkpoint with a much steeper gradient, narrower paths and fallen rocks everywhere. At this stage I’d gone through all of the seven stages of acceptance before finally reaching. I took a fifteen minute break to re-hydrate and left my bags with the shop owner before sprinting up the rest of the way. Well, five seconds of the rest of the way to be exact. It took me forty five minutes longer to reach the summit as the gradient was at its harshest during the final climb. Finally, I had reached. As I lay exhausted on the mountaintop, waves of exhaustion, relief and dread washed over me. They, however, quickly subsided with what I saw before me. The mountains behind Triund were twice as tall and were coveted in snows that would never melt. I took the time to lunch on an aloo paratha, while savouring the view of the snow capped mountains, with their peaks obscured by the snow.
I bid adieu to the mountain and began my descent of 2,800 metres. I picked up my bags along the way and continued downward. Unfortunately, I got lost.
Completely and utterly lost.
I couldn’t recall where I took the wrong turn when I saw that someone had followed me. As my luck would have it, my compatriot was a fellow Bangalorean on holiday. We trudged down the path together trying to find our way, scoping ahead for viable routes. We would have remained well and truly lost if we hadn’t run into another Bangalorean, the ex-manager of Monkey Bar and a native of Dharamshala. We took fifteen minutes to rest and chat before proceeding. We finally trekked through wilderness and reached my companions hotel, where I bid my leave. Unable to place one foot before the other after my eight hour trek, I hired a taxi to take me to town where I had a bowl of thupka and went to look for presents. Unfortunately all the handmade and cooperative shops were closed by five.
I caught a bus to Dharamshala. As we meandered down the slopes the clouds cleared and the snow capped peaks stood, stoic, watchful protectors, in all their splendour, standing vigil over its people. As i stood waiting for my bus, the evening ended as the sun never set.
Maybe. Who knows? 