Bamboo Canvas Hills

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At this time of the year, our national capital spews out reels and reels of what damnation might just feel like, the unrelenting yellow star shriveling out whatever little signs of life dare to venture out on the tarmac. Lucky enough to be working for an adventure tour operator, I tend to get the opportunity to escape the blistering summer heat and delve into the bliss that is Uttarakhand (where I hail from, incidentally) from time to time.

The purpose was to leading a group of fifteen children to our summer camps in the Himalayan state. We departed early morning on a Sunday, all groggy eyed but for the kids, who had the entire compartment groaning for peace with their endless banter. Arriving Haridwar after about four and a half hours, it took us another couple of hours to reach Shivpuri, a quaint little village about ten miles further up from Rishikesh, the region very dusty these days due to the construction of the Char Dham Highway under progress. Arriving around noon, everyone quickly grabbed some lunch and stripped down to beach wear for a session of rafting in the mighty Ganga, which at this time of the year, is an absolute delight for the escape it provides from the unrelenting heat and of course, the sheer adrenalin the sport lends to novices and enthusiasts alike. Keeping the kids in mind, we covered a gentle stretch from Gold Beach to Rishikesh, with some decent grade II and III rapids, a 30 feet cliff jump (easy if you look from below, but scary once you look down), and the serene, sanctified undertone of Rishikesh as one floats below sights like the Laksman Jhula and the cluster of temples and ashrams on its flanks.

Owing to the thick foliage maintained in and around it, the camp is a delight for bird watchers, with species like Orange headed Ground Thrush, Cattle Egret, Little Ringed Plover, Pintail, and Purple Sunbird being spotted frequently.

The following afternoon, we packed our bags for Jattapani, about five miles further up from Chamba, a tiny little hamlet located at the junction of roads from Mussoorie, Rishikesh and Tehri at an altitude of about 8, 000 ft. We were greeted (quiet aptly, I must admit) by a storm on arrival, so the evening was spent with two dozen people huddled up in a single tent, whiling away time telling stupid jokes over cups of steaming hot chocolate. Now imagine dressed up in half a dozen layers of woolens and windcheaters, gloves and caps on, and toying with a hot water bottle inside quilts and sleeping bags in the middle of May, and that, ladies and gentleman, is the typical Chamba weather. With a couple of tents blown away and the occupants’ luggage dripping wet, the night turned out to be pretty eventful.

And like the mountains always do, the morning was clear and bright. After a hearty breakfast, we departed for a trek through the Kaudiya nursery, a nearby village. The scenery was scintillating, with lush forests consisting of oak, deodar and rhododendrons, its blood red flowers lending a streaky aura through the dark green canopy. Seasonal flowers like the wild rose were also abounding. The state government has done an appreciable deed by marking out two eco trails through this region, thereby sensitizing the tourist towards the ethics and practices of responsible tourism. Though we were not able to see any fauna apart from the odd langur, some fresh leopard droppings made up for the thrill. The trail was quiet slippery, and the kids had a lot of fun sliding along dried pine needles.

The next day was spent trekking up to the Surkanda Devi temple, fourteen miles from Chamba, a steep climb of about one and a half miles to get up to ten thousand feet. According to the legend, while Lord Shiva was wreaking havoc upon the universe after Goddess Parvati performed Sati, Lord Vishnu quietly cut her body into 52 pieces using the Sudarshan Chakra, of which the neck fell at the spot where the temple now stands. Unfortunately, due to the misty weather, we were unable to see the breath taking 360 degree view of the Himalayas that the temple offers. However, we did enjoy the kaleidoscopic panorama of the region from the top.

A week of pure bliss and our tryst with the wilderness came to a close. Man may be social animal, but it is solitude in the lap of lush woods and the sweet bird calls that form his intellect and comprehension as they stand. The urban is rich, but it is the troubadour that reminiscences satisfactorily. Is civilization that indispensable? Maybe yes, but I prefer the rhododendron with the eagle perched on top.