12 September 1997

Our group consists of my father, Hari Dang (retired headmaster, early 1960's Everester and pioneering mountaineer on many peaks of the Gangotri-Yamunotri region), Vibha, my wife, myself, and Ashwatthama the Third, our Black Lab pup. The three of us leave Delhi by Gypsy early in the morning, and by afternoon, we reach Landour, a quaint old township situated above the messy hill station of Mussoorie. Fortunately, one avoids the bazaar to get up to Landour, and very soon, there are fine snow views and fragrant deodars to change the weary city-dweller's perspective on life. Here at our cottage, we unwind, choose our climbing gear, and after a dinner comprising of Prakash's cheddar cheeses and brown bread, get early to bed.

13 September

Early morning tea, a quick shower, and the Gypsy is loaded once again. We're on the road very soon, and winding our way across the Mussoorie-Dhanolti-Chamba ridge, down to the valley of the Tehri Dam, across the plain of Chinialisaur with its new air strip, and then driving up the main valley of the Bhagirathi. In a few hours' time, we pass Nakuri, which is the home village of India's first woman Everester, Bachendri Pal. Uttarkashi is not far from here, and soon we are in this bustling mountain town which is presided over by the ubiquitous presence of the roaring Bhagirathi making its progress down the broadening valley. Crossing the old suspension bridge, we make it to the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering where we are to spend the night, although there are a number of old forest rest houses and small-time hotels to choose from as well. The Principal Col. Ajit Dutt and Vice Principal Major Abbey welcome us, and over an evening of dinner and drinks, they regale us with life as they experience it at the helm of one of the premier mountaineering training institutes worldwide. Col. Abbey will shortly be accompanying the Advance Course students for their field training that is usually held in the valley of Draupadi-ka-danda and Jaonli. He wishes us all the best for our little expedition into the valley of Rudragaira, and reminds us to glance down the bridge of the Jadh Ganga to the river below, a stunning drop of nearly a thousand feet!

14 September

We leave Uttarkashi early in the morning, but by forenoon, our progress is suddenly impeded by news of a landslide at Gangnani. Reaching the spot, we find a line of cars and buses waiting for passage across the spot where boatloads of mud and rocks are periodically hurtling down the hillside and across the road. There is no hope of a passage across today, so we reconcile ourselves to the idea of spending a night by the roadside in this region of the middle Himalaya, with the roar of the Ganga lower down the valley, for company. It isn't too bad after all, and we pitch our tents by the roadside. There are few disturbances, apart from a worried carload of West Delhi businessmen who nervously inquire of us if we think they will ever make it back alive to Delhi, with the road having closed in on them, and the daunting thought of the steep road back to Uttarkashi which they were planning to negotiate at night, in the absence of a 'hotel' in the region. We advised them against such a move...

15 September

After an endless wait, the landslide and rockfall is cleared by the fine men of the Border Roads Organization, and we are on our way, (though we did race through the landslide portion in 4WD!) By afternoon, we find ourselves cruising into the wide flood plain valley of Harsil. Before crossing the bridge into town, we read an unambiguous sign "No foreigners allowed beyond this point."  Indeed, there are still areas that our false sense of liberalization has not forced us to accede to the 'Fodor's India on $10 a day' crowd...

The sight, thought and taste of apples hangs heavy in the air, in the sleepy mountain town of Harsil. The trees are laden with ripe apples, and there are so many apples to go around, that even the cows here are fed on them! But that I were a Harsil cow... The Harsil apples, in my honest estimation fair light years ahead of the finest Himachali apples. Why can't the rest of Garhwal and Kumaon emulate this example and cover our barren lower and middle hills with orchards of fruit trees? Instead, what do we do to the legacy left behind by Wilson, the man who brought apples to this region many decades back? We burn down the beautiful Wilson cottage that was a masterpiece of Himalayan architecture, built from sturdy and mammoth beams of deodar which will never again be harvested in the Himalaya. Cinders are all that remain today of this once beautiful edifice. The villagers blame the encampment of the Indo-Tibetan Border Police and vice versa, but the fact is that the damage is done...

An evening of fishing the Jalandhri Gadh yields nothing - the waters are swift-flowing and not too lucid at this time of year. Perhaps the wrong time for trout, even though this is the mahseer season lower down in the foothills...

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