Courting danger in Uttarakhand
By Shantanu Moitra
Trekking around the Himalayan state, the danger of encountering a Himalayan black bear lurks at every corner.
Uttarakhand served as a reminder of the power of Nature. We realised that the environment we were living in was constantly fraught with danger. The flash floods of 2013 had devastated this region of the Himalayas. After the catastrophe, we were the first group to attempt an experimental route to Kedarnath. We were walking from Ghuttu to the Khaitling glacier and after crossing the frozen Masar Tal and Vasuki Tal, we would enter Kedarnath from the North. This path had been blocked after the inundation, but Dhritiman insisted that on this trail, there would never be a dull moment.
There was a threat from the Himalayan black bear, known to be unpredictable around humans. Our leader was Dhritiman’s friend, Lakhpat. He was an interesting individual, because he had managed to escape death twice. He told us that he had once been attacked by a bear while walking alone.
Without panicking, he fell to the ground when he saw the animal charging. He lay there stiff, while the bear sniffed him. Suddenly , the bear lifted him off the ground, then threw him down hard on his back. A sharp pain inched up Lakhpat’s spine, but he remained motionless. The bear abandoned him, thinking he was a corpse.
Another incident involved him and his team getting caught in an avalanche. They were walking through Kharsali, when they saw the trees and boulders rolling downhill towards them. Lakhpat suggested that they hoist themselves off the mountain to avoid getting struck. Using rope, the group lowered themselves along the mountain. They remained suspended in mid air, hanging off the cliff face, till the disaster subsided. Yet, these experiences had not deterred Lakhpat from returning to the mountains. He wanted to continue exploring and help others experience some of the Himalayan magic.
We embarked on our journey to the frigid Khatling glacier from Rhee. Here, Lakhpat hired more porters and bought supplies to sustain us for eight days. Our team was now ready for a mountaineering expedition, armed with people who had survived the extremities of the Himalayas. This was new, yet daunting for me. Lakhpat informed us that we could not ask how close we were at any point. He said, “When you see the snow-capped peaks, know that we have arrived.” I looked around and was unable to detect white peaks in the distance. Lakhpat grinned and said, “Sir, it is 80 kilometers from here.”
The climb to Gangi was four hours long and at a steep incline. I walked on the loose rocks, struggling to breathe. I was wearing a new pair of trekking boots, but they were uncomfortable initially. My feet hurt as I attempted to gain steady footing on the tilted ground. Lakhpat instructed that we should drink three liters of water to acclimatise to the altitude. I shuddered at the thought of what lay ahead. I had never experienced this fear and lack of faith in Nature.
From Gangi, we marched to Kalyani, a high altitude meadow. Our campsite was set up when we arrived after a 10-hour walk uphill. The sight of our orange and blue tents and the scent of Maggi wafting through the air was a source of comfort to me. I rushed to my tent, pleased that I had overcome the first obstacle. We camped under a sky full of silver stars and listened to the wind howling through the night. When morning arrived, Lakhpat was ready with our next adventure. He sipped his tea and said, “There was a black bear sighting yesterday.” I waited to encounter this being, knowing that all I have to do is listen.
Trekking around the Himalayan state, the danger of encountering a Himalayan black bear lurks at every corner.
Uttarakhand served as a reminder of the power of Nature. We realised that the environment we were living in was constantly fraught with danger. The flash floods of 2013 had devastated this region of the Himalayas. After the catastrophe, we were the first group to attempt an experimental route to Kedarnath. We were walking from Ghuttu to the Khaitling glacier and after crossing the frozen Masar Tal and Vasuki Tal, we would enter Kedarnath from the North. This path had been blocked after the inundation, but Dhritiman insisted that on this trail, there would never be a dull moment.
He was absolutely right about fuelling one’s desire for adventure. Our path had no demarcated trekking routes, just loose rocks and gravel. The entire area was prone to landslides at any time, so we had to be flexible if our course changed.
There was a threat from the Himalayan black bear, known to be unpredictable around humans. Our leader was Dhritiman’s friend, Lakhpat. He was an interesting individual, because he had managed to escape death twice. He told us that he had once been attacked by a bear while walking alone.
Without panicking, he fell to the ground when he saw the animal charging. He lay there stiff, while the bear sniffed him. Suddenly , the bear lifted him off the ground, then threw him down hard on his back. A sharp pain inched up Lakhpat’s spine, but he remained motionless. The bear abandoned him, thinking he was a corpse.
Another incident involved him and his team getting caught in an avalanche. They were walking through Kharsali, when they saw the trees and boulders rolling downhill towards them. Lakhpat suggested that they hoist themselves off the mountain to avoid getting struck. Using rope, the group lowered themselves along the mountain. They remained suspended in mid air, hanging off the cliff face, till the disaster subsided. Yet, these experiences had not deterred Lakhpat from returning to the mountains. He wanted to continue exploring and help others experience some of the Himalayan magic.
We embarked on our journey to the frigid Khatling glacier from Rhee. Here, Lakhpat hired more porters and bought supplies to sustain us for eight days. Our team was now ready for a mountaineering expedition, armed with people who had survived the extremities of the Himalayas. This was new, yet daunting for me. Lakhpat informed us that we could not ask how close we were at any point. He said, “When you see the snow-capped peaks, know that we have arrived.” I looked around and was unable to detect white peaks in the distance. Lakhpat grinned and said, “Sir, it is 80 kilometers from here.”
The climb to Gangi was four hours long and at a steep incline. I walked on the loose rocks, struggling to breathe. I was wearing a new pair of trekking boots, but they were uncomfortable initially. My feet hurt as I attempted to gain steady footing on the tilted ground. Lakhpat instructed that we should drink three liters of water to acclimatise to the altitude. I shuddered at the thought of what lay ahead. I had never experienced this fear and lack of faith in Nature.
From Gangi, we marched to Kalyani, a high altitude meadow. Our campsite was set up when we arrived after a 10-hour walk uphill. The sight of our orange and blue tents and the scent of Maggi wafting through the air was a source of comfort to me. I rushed to my tent, pleased that I had overcome the first obstacle. We camped under a sky full of silver stars and listened to the wind howling through the night. When morning arrived, Lakhpat was ready with our next adventure. He sipped his tea and said, “There was a black bear sighting yesterday.” I waited to encounter this being, knowing that all I have to do is listen.
