The Backpacker

Sojourn in the hills

I woke up to a misty dream. Only a dream can have such effect on the senses, sending it into joyous attacks. Then briefly the curtains of mist parted presenting to me the most beautiful sight on earth. I must have bowed in admiration or wept with awe, but I remember telling myself if I ever woke up, I would find my way to the top. Then the mists closed in....

It was the first time the Himalayas had sprung out of books and stretched across hundreds of kilometers, leaving open its beauty for the admiring eye... I am glad I had not planned this travel__ if I had, I would have headed straight to the “must-see” places in Mussorie and missed the magnificent offering of the mountains…. (Mussorie is 2000 m high in the Himalayan foothills.)

I turned blue (the same as the hills--only darker) thinking how lucky Garhwalis (the local people) were for having the waterfalls, mists, cold, pools, mountain ponies at their disposal, with the snow-capped Himalaya looking upon them lovingly.

I proceeded to breakfast before the sun arrived. Ask me not to describe the cauliflower parathas and the mountain tea. Suffice to say that I have never tasted anything better since.

It was the cook who put me up to visiting Kempty Falls, 13 kms away. The bus roared away through dangerous bends to its destination. Personally I thought if the driver had something against us, he might have simply played chess in the backseat. For more than once he appeared determined to drive us over the cliffs and looked disappointed when he was not successful!!

Kempty Falls: Here rocks have disintegrated into sand and formed a natural pool into which water falls from a great height. However the pool was empty that morning and despite being dressed for the water, visitors hung about looking expectantly at each other.

I am a water-person and nothing can keep me from enjoying its goodness and without wasting time, I dashed to the pool. A second before I hit water I realized my mistake. The cold knocked off my breath. My blood froze. My screams evaporated with the last of my warm breath and then… from all over fellows in colorful shorts began jumping in!! Why is danger so appealing? The pool was lost to wriggling bodies.

Two hours in cold water is as much as I can take, so in search of mountain radish and tea I went. As I made my way up the cement steps to the road, (admiring the remains of a jeep that had landed nose down into the valley below) someone grabbed me, screaming in delight. The woman, between laughter and shrieks (and more hugs) conveyed to me her appreciation of my intiating a mass-flow of visitors into the pool. I cannot say I particularly agreed with her theory because the cold caused a headache when I sneezed. (Had she been a careful backpacker, she would have realised that one dosent invite a cold in the head unnecessarily, especially when there much to explore and a leaky nose in not very encouraging!) It took three cups of tea & ten spicy radishes to restore my senses.

As usual, I missed the return bus but had the good fortune of bumping into Rangeela & Rangeela, laughing their way to town. Rangeela, the owner, his reddish hair parted the Garhwali way and Rangeela his brown horse were a pair. They broke their journey and drove me to the Surkhanda Devi temple. However I had to walk uphill with Rangeela while the other Rangeela waited. (The order does not matter!! They were practically identical). Five hours later when we pulled into town, it looked like a sky with million twinkling stars.

Camel Back Road: Walking this road (from Kulri Bazar) is best way to warm up. Much refreshed with the night’s sleep and buttered parathas, I was ready for excitement. From here you have excellent views of the Himalayas and on a clear day, you can see the Kedarnath range. It is easy to walk this road actually. It winds round a bend with interesting bungalows and cottage type houses. A south Indian canteen which appears on this road serves imitation dosa and idli and charges the earth. Ask me, I have been had. The filter coffee cost me half the earth. The rest of it went for the limp, yellow idli.

My decision to walk to Clouds End Bungalow was a result of this. Walking it the best way to kill anger. It took me a good two hours to wlk 6 km from the west of the Library to the place. The bungalow is a hotel now and clouds come here to tea before going away to cover the valley below. It was here I tasted rhododendron juice. It tasted of flowers and mist. It dissolved my anger too.

On day 3 I visited the Municipal Gardens, (with Rangeela), Lal Tibba, where the government has installed telescopes for viewing the mountains. I eagerly applied my eye to the lens. Through it, the snow capped mountains appeared within easy reach.

In the evenings I walked the Mall Road admiring crowds and hoped to meet Ruskin Bond, a writer who lives in Mussorie. I did not see him so instead I ate marble sized apples, shivered in the cable car high above the Gun Hill and ate more parathas.

Next morning, the mists had shifted enough for me to see the mountains one last time.

They must have clouded again for when I looked back, Mussorie had once again disappeared into a dream.