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21/10/2010: Bura Madmaheshwar to Bantoli
I had no intention to get up early in this cold weather. But I
had to thanks to nature's call at 5:20am. I relieved myself and
rushed to the warmth of the kitchen tent where Ballu was already
busy preparing breakfast. Tublu-da was up too, and so were some of
the others by 6. The Chaukhamba is clearly visible now, and so is
Mandani. It is quite cold. But still it is bearable because there
is not much wind.
I have mentioned the Bura Madmaheshwar temple that is barely as
high as a table. Near this temple are three ankle deep
water-bodies, full of muddy water. They do look impressive except
in a clear morning like this when the snow capped hills are
reflected in them. It's surprising how the turbid water produces
such clear reflections!
 Reflections
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Today is our day of descent. We have an ambitious plan to go all
the way down to Ransi. So after finishing breakfast
with ghee and boiled rice at 7:30 we finished cleaning up
the tent ground. Then around 8:00 we bade adieu to Bura
Madmaheshwar.
Sun bathing
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A last look at the peaks
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In sharp contrast with Bura
Madmaheshwar, Madmaheshwar is warm and bustling with
activities. Many trekkers who had put up in the inns at night are
now out in the sun. Most trekkers love to give you long list of
places they have trekked to, and a long list of peaks they have
seen. The habit is very addictive, and often leads to competition
between trekkers. "This trek is tough", one would say. "Pooh, it
is nothing compared to the trek I did last year to ...", another
would try to outvie him. "Yes, but the view was much better in
the trek that we did the year before that!" The first would
retaliate. And the discussion would continue like this ad
infinitum. One trekker here tried to engage Tublu-da in
such a debate. "Where have you been before this by trekking?" he
asked with a lofty air.
"Me? Well, I have been to ...", Tublu-da belched out a long list
with an indifferent face.
"Ah, er..., so you have been to many places", his opponent looked
a bit unhappy about his choice of victim. "Well, we have been to
..." and he proceeded to give another list.
"Oh, really!" said Tublu-da, not rudely but so indifferently, and
then continued to gaze so vacantly that the competition could not
gain any further impetus.
At 9:45 Ballu, Chandra Pal and I started our descent from
Madmaheshwar.
The descent was much similar to the ascent except for a few
things. First, my toes are hurting a bit. Second, I am
greeting the upwards bound trekkers with sundry encouraging
comments. I am enjoying every bit of this activity as I recall
how I sought encouragement from others while going up myself.
I arrived at Khatara at 12:33pm. Ballu was already there. We were
to wait for the others, have lunch and then start for Ransi. But
that's what we planned. Nature's plan seemed to be something
else. Half of the sky was bright blue, the other half being cast
with dark clouds. The sides of the sky are like two sides of a
coin poised above us. Nature is about to toss it. If it starts to
rain, then we have hardly any chance to reach Ransi. We hear from
he locals that many trekkers are in the same plight as us, and
Gondar is already full with them. So not much hope to get night's
shelter at Gondar. Staying at Khatara for the night would delay
us too much. So we should start as early after lunch as possible
and try to cover as much distance as possible before the rain
starts.
I had hardly finished writing about my worries when two drops of
rain fell on my diary! Nature has tossed her ominous coin, the
rain has started!
Walking downhill, contrary to what many novice trekkers think, is
actually quite difficult. It is less strenuous on the lungs, but
this advantage is offset by the extra strain on the knees and the
toes. Also one runs a greater risk of falling while coming down
than while going up. So it was not before 2:55 that all of us had
finally arrived at Khatara.
I whisked out my improvised rain coat (basically a plastic sheet
stapled to form a huge envelope covering both my rucksack ant its
owner in a single fold) and resumed my descent through a steady
drizzle that seemed more to tease than to drench us.
It was soon apparent to us that we won't be able to make it to
Ransi today. And Gondar is already too full of trekkers. So we
stopped a short distance uphill of Gondar, at a place called
Bantoli.
We had passed this place on our way up, but somehow I had missed
its mesmerizing beauty until we stopped here on our way
down. With a population consisting of about five households,
Bantoli hardly deserves the name of a village. The main asset of
the place is the confluence of two mountain streams, one being
our old friend Madmaheshwar Ganga. The two babbling brooks meet
in a perpetual swirl of white foam. Very near the confluence is a
tidy little
bridge offering a romantically close view. The verdure of forest
that slopes up towards the blue sky provides an ideal backdrop.
The inn (Vishwa Lodge) where we stayed sits straddling a precipice overlooking
the point where the two streams meet. It is a two storey
building. The view from the first floor balcony is one of the
best I have seen in this trek. Crane you neck a bit towards the
right, and there you see the snowcapped Chaukhamba. The view
towards the left is no less beautiful in the late evening. The
hill facing us is just a huge black wall ending in a cluster of
trees at the top, silhouetted against a moon bright as silver.
If my wish prevails, I shall visit this place again later.
We are short of kerosene, and we do not want to buy food from the
inn. So Ballu and Chandra Pal procured some wood from around (no,
we did not fell any trees, just collected whatever was already
lying on the ground). The pieces of wood were all pretty sodden
with rain. But after being chopped up and drenched with the
little kerosene we had, they burned quite cheerily. The chopping
started at 5:15pm, and by 5:35 we had a merry fire burning.
At 5:40pm I prepared our bed. I am feeling quite exhausted
now. My attempt to steal a nap, however, was interrupted by an
invitation to join an evening adda over tea, coffee and
snacks. The solar light in the room was not working, so
Tublu-da's camp light (a little torch-like device of Chinese make
that hangs from a hook and casts a mysteriously pale light
around) was our main weapon against the darkness. We sat cosily
together and tried to scare each other with ghost stories. But
unfortunately the story tellers were a bit too rational for
ghost stories. As a result, the surreal sound in Rasmohan-Babu's
story could be traced to a lizard, and the creepy rumblings of an
old iron chest in Tublu-da's anecdote had its rather prosaic
origin in a remote dynamite blast. Indeed, even when Jhilli-di
tried to talk about more classical spectres who walk around
headless, the audience were more interested in the snacks than
the headless chaps!
So after a time most of us walked out into the balcony, and
gazed at a moonlit sky. The Chaukhamba is clearly visible even in the
moonlight. The moonlight is bright enough to reflect its ethereal
beauty, but not bright enough to the captured by a camera.
We had our dinner at 9:00, and after half an hour the
moon saw the tired trekkers sleeping happily.
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