The Good, The Bad and The Ugly - confessions of a lone traveler

Scene 1 - The Good

Location: Istanbul
Time: About 10:30 pm

Taksim Square

I am walking back towards my hotel after taking a cruise in the Bosphorus river and stopped to enquire at an eatery in Sultanahmet about their vegetarian options. I didn't find anything interesting so continued to walk when I heard someone ask me something in Turkish. I turned back and saw a young guy, in his 30's, Turkish looking who was asking for directions. The look on my face made it clear that I was the wrong person to ask the question so he politely apologized. Here is how the conversation went-

Stranger: I am sorry, I thought you were Turkish.
I: Not a problem.
Stranger: So are you a tourist?
I: Yes.
Stranger: Just like me (with a smile, and by this time he had started walking along with me, apparently not needing directions any more).

So where are you from?
I: India. How about you?
Stranger: I am from Cyprus (I didn't know what men from Cyprus looked like, I assumed they look similar). So, first time in Turkey?
I: Yes.
Stranger: It's my second time. So what brings you here?
I: Tourism, holiday.
Stranger: You traveling alone?
I: Yes, how about you?
Stranger: I came today and am waiting for a friend, he will come tomorrow.
I: OK (Typically when I give such one word or one phrase answers, people loose interest in the conversation pretty quickly but this guy kept on going undeterred).
Stranger: How long have you been here?
I: Two days.
Stranger: So what did you do today?
I: The usual tourist spots - Blue Mosque, Aya Sofya, Bosphorus Cruise etc. How about you?
Stranger: I went for a Hamam.
I: Nice. where?
Stranger: Cemberlitas. (that's one of the most popular places for a traditional Hamam, and very expensive too, I think he chose to mention it on purpose to impress).
I: That must be very expensive.
Stranger: No, not much, it was about 65 Liras (close to 2000 Rupees, I thought it should have been more expensive but later on realized he was about right on the price).

So, this went on for a while, he kept talking about India, Mumbai, the weather and other usual conversation starters but I tried to keep it to a minimum as I had some idea where this was heading and I was playing it safe. And as I expected, the conversation soon took that turn -
Stranger: So, which hotel are you staying in?
I: (I deliberately ignored the question) I am finding it so hard to find good vegetarian food here.
Stranger: (He mentioned something about a place in a different part of the city which he thought was nice and came back to his original question). If you don't mind me asking, which hotel are you staying in?
I: (I ignored him again, now pretty sure that he is up to something). I am just looking for a good vegetarian restaurant and can't find it!
Stranger: You know, I am heading to Taksim Square, there are some nice clubs there, if you want to come have a drink you are welcome.
I: No thanks, I am pretty tired, I think I will eat something and rest.
Stranger: Well, there are some nice clubs there. We will take the train have a couple of drinks and then we can be back in an hour or two.

For the next few minutes he kept on talking about the benefits of going there - drinks, girls, friends, belly dance, fun and so on and I kept sounding disinterested.
I: Thanks, but I am too tired to go. How are you going there by the way?
Stranger: I will take the tram.

And this was the last and final clue that this was all a setup - we were walking in the opposite direction of Taksim where he wanted to go, and on the way we had skipped two tram stations, his mode of transport. Meanwhile we had reached the place where I had been eating for the last two days and I didn't waste any more time in ending the conversation.
I: Well, it was nice meeting you. I am going to eat here, you have fun at Taksim! (shook his hand and walked away)

So, in case you are wondering what his intended setup was then this is how the whole scene plays. Had I gone with him, he would have taken me to a nice bar/club and soon we would have been joined by a few more people, at least a couple of pretty girls (remember he was a tourist, but somehow he will have friends at the bar!). Everyone will have drinks, talk, laugh and later when the bill comes it would have been handed on to me and would have run into a few hundred Euros (could be ten times more than the actual cost of drinks and they might even have a fake menu to support those prices!). The bar owner is usually a part of the scam and I would end up paying the entire amount. If I didn't have enough cash they would have kindly escorted me to the nearest ATM.

It's a popular scam in Istanbul and is usually called the single male traveler scam. Fortunately I had read about it before I left for Turkey so was quick to recognize it. I don't think I would have gone with him anyways. I mean seriously, a guy from Cyprus wanting to have drinks with me in Istanbul by first taking a tram to some other part of the city? I know I am a good company but let's be honest, I am not that good either :)

Scene 2 - The Bad

Location: A bus from Antalya to Goreme
Time: 11 am

The Kent bus that threw us out

I had to go from Olympos to Goreme, I booked the ticket from my tree house hotel guy in Olympos and the route was like this - I take a shuttle (called Dolmus) from the tree house to the main road, then a mini bus from there to Antalya bus station and then an overnight bus from Antalya to Goreme. The bus was at 10 pm and I barely managed to reach Antalya bus station by 9:50 pm. Actually there were 4 people going to Goreme from that hotel that night so till the time we reached Antalya we were together. The bus station was pretty big and we had to hurry to find our bus. We showed our tickets to a few people and they directed us to our bus. We reached there just in time, loaded the luggage and took our seats. By this time, two of us had gone somewhere else and it was just me and a Canadian girl. The bus left promptly at 10 but made a lot of long stops over the next 20-30 mins to pick some passengers on the way.

Anyways, after we had been on the road for over an hour, the conductor came to check the tickets, looked at my ticket and appeared shocked. Went up to the driver and started talking loudly in Turkish. Came back to me and started talking in Turkish. I didn't understand everything but the essence was this - "You fool! you have boarded the wrong bus. Your bus is Nevsehir transport, this is Kent transport!" I was like but I asked so many people including one person who boarded this very bus, and the driver of the bus itself! I showed my ticket to him when he was putting the luggage in and asked him if this is the bus and he happily took my luggage. I of course said all of this in English and the conductor didn't understand a word of it. Anyways, he concluded the conversation saying - No Problem!

So I assumed all is good and he will do something about it. He tried to call my bus company to see if they are behind us and if I can be transferred to that bus. Unfortunately because of the many stops we made, the bus had gone ahead of us so a transfer wasn't possible. After a while, he realized that the Canadian girl has also boarded the wrong bus (of course, we boarded it together). Now he lost it. He first asked her that she will have to get down, then said she will have to pay the fare again. She and I had a conversation later on and figured that in the worst case we might have to buy the ticket again but will try not to since it's their mistake that they took our luggage in. All this while he is on the phone talking to different people and looking in amazement at our tickets and talking the driver in a tone that was getting madder and madder with every passing minute. My next seat neighbour meanwhile was kind enough to translate his conversations to me from Turkish to sign language and some simpler Turkish. The last thing I understood the conductor said was - Problem!

The previous day I had read a story on Lonely Planet about two women who were left stranded on the highway at night by a Turkish bus company with their luggage and nowhere to go. This was when they had valid tickets! So, I was aware of what these bus people were capable of doing and was getting mentally prepared for the worst. At around 11:45 the bus reached a station called Manavgat and I saw the Canadian girl get down from the bus. She told me that the conductor is asking her to get off the bus. He didn't say anything to me so I wasn't sure what to do but figured that the wise thing to do is get down. One, I didn't trust that guy and two, I didn't want to leave the girl alone at a random station at midnight.

There was one guy on the bus who understood English so he tried to help us check if we could somehow catch our original bus or take another bus to Goreme but both were not possible. He suggested that we should spend the night here and take a bus in the morning. We were both reluctant to do that as we would loose a lot of time, and when you are traveling time has a lot of value so we talked to a guy on the station and he helped us look for other buses.

We walked from the reservation counter of one company to the other till we could find one bus which was leaving for the town of Konya, somewhere halfway to Goreme. They said we will have to wait three hours in Konya and then can take a bus to Goreme eventually. To make matters worse, both of us were out of Liras, she had Euros and I had credit cards... so we were busy at each subsequent stop looking for ATMs or some place to exchange Euros for Lira. Anyway, we took that bus, reached Konya at about 4 am... waited for three hours, took another bus at 7 to reach Nevsehir (not Goreme yet) and then had to take another shuttle from Nevsehir to Goreme. So, what my hotel guy initially told me to be a direct bus, 16 hours and 60 extra Liras later turned out to be a five stop journey. A single journey in six buses - that is definitely a record I never intend to break in my lifetime!

Scene 3 - The Ugly
Location: Goreme
Time: 5 pm

Goreme - the dirt path with the ranch and tourist attractions in the background

My 2nd day in Goreme. This is after I posted a status message on facebook in the morning saying - "The Best Morning Ever!". I had a relaxed late morning early afternoon and at around 4:30 I decided to go for a walk/hike. It was getting quite hot so I decided against my original idea of mountain biking. I started walking towards a nearby town of Avanos which was about 4-5 kms away or so. I was walking along the highway (in the service road) as the directions were easy to follow along the highway. Almost parallel to the highway I saw a dirt road that was closer to the valley, the stone caves and in general seemed more of a scenic path than the highway. I noticed that there was a sign that it was a private ranch but then in a distance I could see some tourists on their quad bikes so I thought will take the dirt road instead. As I was about to cross the main road, I saw a car drive past and it slowed down as it went past me. The driver looked at me, probably to check if I wanted a ride somewhere, easy way for him to make a few bucks but I didn't want a ride so I didn't pay attention and crossed the road.

I would have barely walked a 100 meters along the dirt road when the same old white car came from behind and slowed down near me. This time the driver, Turkish looking, around 40, spoke to me in Turkish. I couldn't understand but he was suggesting that he can offer me a ride. I signalled to him that I wanted to walk instead and said thank you. He asked a few more times pointing towards the passenger seat but I said no and started walking again. He felt disappointed and took an unusually wide and slow U-Turn almost stopping in front of me once but drove away eventually. I barely walked for another 500m and had stopped to take a few pictures when I saw him again this time coming from the opposite side towards me. Now it started to bother me. I thought I will step aside to take pictures and he will drive away but as I stopped, he also stopped at a short distance from me. I must have waited there for about 5-10 minutes and he waited there as well.

Anyways, I had to move on sometime, and as i walked past him, he asked me in English what was my name. I answered politely and kept walking and then he said something else in Turkish. I didn't get it so he repeated it, this time pointing his finger apparently in the general direction of his dick! This was outrageous and I didn't know how to react but I definitely didn't feel any further obligation to be polite and I started walking away. A few moments later I turned just to make sure he was not following me and to my utter disgust he stepped out of the car with his pants down!! I was shocked and appalled and at this stage let me add, a little scared too. I immediately turned away, left the dirt track and stepped on to a large patch of grass that divided the parallel tracks as he couldn't drive on to it.

Now I was moving towards the ranch where I could see some tourists at a distance as I was pretty much alone on the dirt road. I heard the engine a few seconds later and turned back to see that he was driving away from me pretty fast. I wasn't sure whether he was gone for good or was going to make a U-Turn and come back. So, my immediate objective was to reach somewhere where I can see other people and meanwhile stay on a path where he can't drive. Unfortunately, the area was almost uninhabited and the tourists were few and far between. I was not able to figure out whether I should move towards the highway in which case I give that Psycho the chance to intercept me on the dirt road in between or to move further towards the ranch where he had little chance of driving by but which was much more isolated.

I kept on walking for another 20-30 minutes thinking of all possibilities (hiking, sightseeing and photography was the last priority at this moment) and feeling surprised at how something like this can happen in such a touristy town, with apparently so many people around (not too many at that time though) and so close to the highway on one side and tourist attractions on the other. I was perhaps lost in these thoughts when all of a sudden I saw that car appear on a parallel dirt road coming from the opposite direction. Now I was really scared! This time I started running and after a few minutes of sprinting saw a house in the seemingly deserted area with an old man attending to his garden. I was quite relieved at seeing him and walked up to him and just had a conversation (he spoke broken English) and waited for some time till I could no longer see the car. I understood my location on the map from him and how I could get to the highway from there. The highway wasn't too far from there and I figured I could walk it in max 5-10 minutes, which I did with a brisk walk keeping an eye out for that psycho.

This was the third time in life I was delighted at the site of a main road, the other two were when I was utterly lost once in Scotland and once in South Dakota. Now, I could see shops and other cars along the way and felt quite relaxed. I did go along the highway for another km or so before deciding to get back. This time I made sure I stuck to the highway to be safe, but still couldn't help getting alarmed at the sight of any white car. People talk of the dangers of traveling alone for women, I say it's not easy being a solo guy traveler!

IstanBlue

I think there's something funny about a guy smoking in a jogger's park. And it gets intriguing when you find most men and women doing the same. And then you realize, for most people in Istanbul going for a walk in the park is no different from taking a stroll down the bustling city markets, having a cup of tea or smoking a waterpipe at one of the numerous joints in the side streets of the city. They are just going about their life doing what they like to do - and the list is not long - having tea or coffee, chit chatting either among themselves or with travellers, playing backgammon(arguably Turkey's national game), smoking and finally either buying something or selling it (depending on we are talking of a tourist or local) usually in some combination of each other. And if you happen to be in this park that I am sitting in at the moment (Gulhane Park - the city's largest and most popular park by the way) add making out to the list as well!

It's a Monday afternoon and I wonder how do so many young Turkish men and women manage to be in a park. It does say something about the employment rate or the attendance level in the Istanbul University! The park reminds me of the Central Park in New York City - prime location, very green, beautiful landscaping, well maintained - not as big but then Istanbul isn't as big as NYC either. The similarities between the two cities go a little further than the park. Both are very popular tourist destinations, Istanbul surprisingly is quite cosmopolitan and liberal as well, both a shopper's paradise and both quite expensive! (yes, that's right, gone are the days when Istanbul used to be the poor tourist's destination in Europe).

Turkey is often referred to as the most liberal Muslim country but you have to see it to believe it. Take a 360 degree look around you anywhere in the city and for every woman draped in a head scarf you will find three wearing a mini skirt, and its not just tourists I am talking about. What surprised me is that women can wear almost anything even to a mosque though to enter the prayer area they have to cover themselves up (the mosques provide scarfs and drapes to women). Even women who choose to wear scarves in public are very comfortable holding hands of their partners, cuddling and sometimes kissing in public (otherwise they have this park!).

It's my fourth day in the city and I am still struggling to assign a theme to the city, or at least to put it in words. I have so many, sometimes conflicting, characters of it ever since I stepped out of the Ataturk airport. For the first 20 minutes you drive along an international class 6 lane highway full of modern expensive cars, Mercedes and Volvo buses (there are too many buses in Istanbul by the way!) and you think well it's a pretty modern looking city and all of a sudden your bus makes a left turn to enter Sultanahmet, the main tourist area and you are greeted with a maze of narrow cobbled streets that has Europe written all over it, a maze only your driver can decipher (you will eventually get the hang of it in a couple of days). My driver happened to break the side mirror of a parked car while manoeuvring a tight corner on one such street.

Sultanahmet is full of mosques and monuments of religious and historical importance that cut across religions, countries, empires and centuries. Cross the Ataturk or Galata bridge and come to Taksim and you will be forgiven to think that you are in SoHo (without the sky scrapers). You will find a nostalgic tram in Taksim and a state of the art metro train service elsewhere in the city. No matter what you want to buy, Istanbul has something to suit your taste - from high street shopping in Taksim to haggle your way to death in the Grand Bazaar, and various intermediate options spread across the city. Grand Bazaar is unique in itself - over 5000 shops in 60 streets, it's a jigsaw puzzle daring you to take a shot at it. It will take you days to see them all but fortunately you don't have to as many shops sell similar stuff. Be prepared to bargain shamelessly and don't ever make the mistake of thinking that you found an original Gucci bag for a steal! The stuff looks nice but if the price is too good to be true, it most certainly is a fake. Leave the expensive stuff for authentic stores, Grand Bazaar is for trinkets and souvenirs, in other words, things that if you end up over paying for, won't haunt you in your sleep :) Most of what you find here will be available elsewhere in the city at a more reasonable price but you may have to look a little harder. But if you really like something at a shop and decide to check out other shops for a better price, make sure you have a way to make it back to the shop, as I said it's a maze - I got lost multiple times and in one case kept coming back to the same shop no matter how hard I tried to get away from it!

There is so much more to talk about Istanbul - the spice bazaar, the numerous mosques, the food (not necessarily in a positive way), belly dancing, backgammon, the special treatment meted out to Indians along with some other third world citizens at the airport, the beautiful weather, the cruises along the Bosphorus river, the carpets, the single tourist guy scam (topic for another blog!), the history and so on. But just like I had only 4 days to spend here, I am sure most of you have a limited time to read my blog so I will skip some of these for a later day. As I said before, I am not going to be able to do justice in characterizing the city but one thing is for sure that as much as the Bosphorus river tries to separate the European Istanbul from the Asian one, the cliche of West meets East finds its true meaning in Istanbul.

It's Not About The Bike... Or Is It?

Let's face it, only Lance Armstrong can dare say that it's not about the bike, for the rest of us mortals it's as much about the bike or may be more than it is about us. Consider this scenario for example - I am stopped at a red signal, standing next to a Honda Civic and am drawing more attention than the car from people around me. Is it about the bike? Hell ya! Hopefully by the time you are finished reading this post you will realize what makes the bike more noticeable than a Honda.

(More photographs at: http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?aid=198483&id=528135688)

When I took a fall from my bicycle about a month ago or so, most of my friends asked me to be safe... when I had a close call with one of the BEST buses last week again people reminded me of safe cycling... same thing happens when I tell them that I ride on the express highways as well. The fact that I ride at night sometimes also troubles the people who care for me. These things lead people into thinking that I am not a safe rider. Quite on the contrary in fact. I consider myself among the safest cyclists in the city. Let's start from the safety equipment - I use a high quality imported Helmet to protect my head, cycling glasses to prevent my eyes not just from pollution and particles but also to increase visibility in rain, gloves to reduce the impact of handle vibrations and to prevent abrasions from a fall, professional grade knee guards and elbow guards to prevent injuries during a potential fall or a vehicle hitting me while moving too close, a powerful headlight to help me see and help others notice me at night, a flashing tail light to let other drivers see me, reflective tape on the wheel along with the regular reflectors and a reflective band on my ankles that also prevents the pants from getting tangled in the cogs. Now let's talk about riding style - first of all I consider myself as just another vehicle on the road and I follow all traffic rules. I stop at red signals, I stick to my lane, make appropriate signs while changing lanes or turning and maintaining the right speed.

I think every car driver or motorcyclist or bus driver is used to watching cyclists go at slow speeds and then change directions all of a sudden to land up on their way... and that's what they are expecting from every cyclist now so when they find someone who is actually behaving like a cyclist should, they just don't know how to react. They still honk at you from miles away even if you are two lanes apart. I think what hits the other vehicles the most is the fact that I can go pretty fast and sometimes faster than them depending on the road condition and the traffic. I have had motorcyclists and car drivers make remarks at me while overtaking, without realizing that they are barely at the same speed as me or slower if I am the one doing the overtaking.

Then there is something to be said about watchmen and security guards... I am not sure why these folks happen to not like cyclists so much. I have had trouble with them at my office parking, at Vihar Lake, at IIT Powai and so on... I would like to think that I am making the least amount of trouble for them of all people they come across but it's probably about them wanting a vent for their day to day frustration and a cyclist is probably less likely to retaliate than a car driver... size does matter after all.

The people who seem to enjoy my presence on the road the most are the street kids. They will admire all the major and minor details about the bike (whatever they can notice)... the most common ones being the gear system and the disc brakes. I have had strangers (mostly other cyclists) or kids ask me about the price of the bike or where I bought it from. The kid that works in my neighbourhood grocery store rode past me one day and asked me if I live in such and such building... every time I go out to ride at least 5-10 kids wave at me or make some funny comment... sometimes they will ask me to give them a ride... some of them would even try to tempt me to race! You look at their behaviour, compare it with the behaviour of other people and can't fail to realize that the craze for cycling is primarily limited to teenagers in India and most of us just loose respect for it as we grow up as if to say, if it doesn't run on petrol then it doesn't deserve my respect.

It's not about the bike to the extent that the fanciest of the bikes is pretty useless if it sits in the garage or at home all day. And to be able to ride consistently and over long distances in a city like Mumbai you need to make sure that the ride is not just safe but convenient also. This implies getting a ton of accessories for the bike, some of which are pretty expensive. For example, the headlight, the gloves, the lock, the helmet, the protective guards, each one of them costs more than the last bike I had (an Avon Muddy Montage during my IIT days). I can't imagine myself spending that kind of money on accessories for a barebones bike like I had before. But more than safety, more than convenience, it's the motivation that actually gets you riding... and this is where it becomes all about the bike! There is so much to look forward to when riding it... the lightweight that helps me carry it through the stairs to and from my home on the 3rd floor, the 24 gear system that makes going up the inclines a breeze and speeding past the arrogant motorcyclist or the obnoxious bus driver possible, the disc brakes that lend you confidence during the rains or at high speeds, all coming together in a beautifully designed and impeccably manufactured machine that almost seems to promise to last forever. Add to it the feel good factor of doing good to the environment, staying healthy and adding some fun to your exercise regime.

The maximum I ever rode on a bicycle in a day all my life was probably 10 kms or less. Since I got this bike 3 months ago, I have already stretched that number to 70kms and I feel I can push it beyond 100. I ride at over 50kms an hour at times, feel great about overtaking cars while doing that, enjoy the Mumbai rains more than I ever did, feel young and childish enough to want to do stunts I never tried as a kid, dream about riding down to Lonavala on a rainy day or participating in the next Mumbai Cyclothon. I have seen more corners of Mumbai on the bike in 3 months than I did otherwise in 2 years. It's making me fall in love with the city all over again.

It's definitely about the bike.

Nature's Beauty. Nature's Wrath

Photographs at picasaweb.google.com/himanshu.saraf/TrekkingInHimalayas

 

This was the 7^th day of my Himalayan trekking expedition to Sar Pass. We started off with two days of conditioning at the base camp in Kasol at 6500 ft, then climbing to the next higher camp of Guna Pani at 8000 ft, followed by Faul Pani at 9500 ft and then Zirmi at 11,000 ft on the 5^th day. Yesterday, we had set out for Tila Lotni at 12,500 ft. This was supposed to be the toughest of all camp sites with very low temperature, high probability of rain and snow and a difficult path to traverse. This however was also the camp that would lead us to our ultimate destination, the Sar Pass at 13,800 ft. On our way to Tila Lotni, we met, to our surprise, the group that had left a day ahead of us for Sar Pass and should be ideally on their way from Tila Lotni to Sar Pass. We learned from them that the weather in Tila Lotni and Sar Pass that morning was so bad that they were advised by their camp leader to drop the idea of crossing Sar Pass and return to the base camp instead. They were all heartbroken obviously for not being able to complete the trek but they were still singing and chanting slogans on their way back. They wished for us to be able to cross Sar Pass and I jokingly said that we would pass it twice, once for us and once for them!

 

We had met the guide from the other group a couple of days ago in a lower camp and I had taken a few of his photographs. So, he recognised me and started talking to me. I asked him how cold it was up there and if one jacket was enough. He told me that the sole fleece jacket I had won’t be enough for the cold weather at Sar Pass and he suggested that I take his jacket. I tried to refuse but he insisted. I still didn’t want to take his jacket with no way of returning it, so he wrote his name on the sleeve and asked me to leave it at the tea stall at the first camp after descending from Sar Pass. I had to think thrice before taking it as every gram that was added to the back pack meant I will get tired faster on my way up. As it is, my backpack was already more than twice the recommended weight due to my tripod and other camera equipment. I still took the jacket thinking it will serve as a backup in case someone in the group needs it or the weather turns really bad. Regardless, I am still amazed by the simplicity of the people that live in the mountains and the level of trust they demonstrate even in strangers… wish there were more people like him in the cities.

 

We reached Tila Lotani in the afternoon but not before encountering rain and later on hailstones on the way. Some of us were quite unprepared for the rain and I ended up lending a rain sheet that I had brought to cover my camera bag to one of the girls who didn’t have a rain jacket. There was another girl who was using her regular jacket, which was not water resistant and to make matters worse she was climbing bare footed as she found her shoes too uncomfortable. This would prove to be a mistake later on.

 

It was close to 3 pm by the time we reached our campsite. We were quickly briefed by our camp leader about our schedule. It was simple - tea at 3 pm, soup at 4, dinner at 6, sleep by 7, get up at 3 am for bed tea, 4 am breakfast and start climbing at 5 am if the weather permits. We spent a few minutes outside to soak in the beauty of nature around us and admire the scenic vistas however the cold wave hit us pretty quickly and most of us chose to stay in our tents for most part, unless we had to come out to get tea or soup or dinner. After dinner I came to know that the girl who was walking barefoot had started vomiting and needed some medical attention. She had not been eating her meals properly either. Another girl had trouble breathing and had to be administered oxygen through a cylinder. One of my tent mates started complaining of a severe headache and nausea and he later decided not to continue with the trek and go back to lower altitude instead. We went to bed by 7 pm or so hoping for clear weather the next day so that we can be allowed to traverse through Sar Pass.

 

Nature had different plans though. It snowed all night and we woke up at 4 am (the bed tea was delayed because of the snow it seems), the entire campground and the surrounding mountains as far as we could see were covered with snow. It looked stunning but we were apprehensive of our chances to climb further up. The snowfall stopped in the morning and the camp leader felt that the weather has cleared and he allowed us to climb. He however advised the two sick girls not to climb but left the choice with them if they wanted to risk their lives by joining the group. They chose to climb. Pretty brave… might not be too wise in retrospect but courageous nonetheless. So for the first time in 7 days we started trekking in snow… and what snow it was… several inches of fresh powder… had I not been on a trek I would be tempted to snowboard there! We were accompanied by two Sherpas and we were ordered to obey their instructions at all cost. One of the instructions was to walk in a single line and only put our foot in the marks of the person in front of us.

 

This was it… this is what I came for here… to me the previous 6 days were a prerequisite I had to meet to qualify for this day… trekking in fresh snow in the Himalayas, vast stretches of untouched snow in front of me, no roads, no trails, no foot prints… just a sea of snow… as far as I could see. I was ready with my camera in anticipation of sceneries I had never seen. I didn’t know what to expect but I was expecting something unexpected certainly. The climb was steep and within minutes we were sweating in the freezing weather. The sun was still rising behind us and we slowly and steadily climbed 500-600 ft when it started to snow again. We however kept on climbing, on several occasions the sherpas had to help people climb, as it was very steep or slippery. As we were going up I couldn’t fail but notice that although the sun was rising it was getting darker slowly. There was a thick cloud cover all over the sky and the sky gradually turned from blue in the east to grey and then eventually black towards the west. The whole landscape could easily be painted on a greyscale… the only colours perhaps were of or clothing and bags. The snowfall was getting heavier by the moment and it was getting windy too, resulting in a chill factor. We were starting to feel cold now, specially on the exposed body parts such as nose and lips, and for me fingers as well from operating the camera. This was the time I thanked from my heart the guide who gave me his jacket. I don’t think I could have managed without it; the weather was much severe compared to my expectations when I was planning for the trek.

 

By the time we ascended a few 100 ft more, we were staring at a snowstorm that was looking to get worse. The wind was so strong that one guy lost his rain jacket out of his hands to the wind! We had somehow made it t almost 13500 ft and were just a few hundred feet away elevation wise from Sar Pass, though distance wise it was still another 2 kms or so I think. We could see in the distance where we were heading and it was not a pretty sight… a snow covered mountain, totally eclipsed by the snowstorm and the frightening black skies… it reminded me of a scene from the movie Lord of the Rings. We were standing at the top of a wedge shaped mountain with a deep valley on one side and a slippery slope on the other side. Just the thought of a wrong step in either direction was enough to make your legs tremble for a second. The sherpas told us that the weather is bad here; it’s worse at Sar Pass and will get even worse as time progresses. All of a sudden there was a question mark on the feasibility of our expedition. Some people were suggesting we go back while others wanted to go ahead since we had already come such a long way and I agreed with them. Standing at that point, for a few minutes while the sherpas were talking to the group leader, I couldn’t stop thinking how moments like these define your true character, what you really are, what life really means to you and what you live for. Whether someone wanted to continue on the trek or go back to the camp was a manifestation of the above. There was a woman who had some family issues back home and she couldn’t be any happier if we decided to go back. Another girl who was feeling very cold and was in a very bad shape physically still wanted to go all the way. I remember her telling me a few days ago that she feels that although she is happy there is no purpose to her life… that would explain her choice. For most part, it was someone’s love, anticipation of meeting someone back home, going back to your family or the life you so cherish at home that drives you to go back from such a point. At the same time, the sense of accomplishment, an extreme liking for adventure and exploring what’s ahead of them, the desire to do what most others can’t, a sadistic pleasure derived by subjecting yourself to extreme conditions, trying to hurt yourself because you want to hurt someone else or just simple ego that they will look weak if they go back… are the primary reasons that people push themselves to keep going. I am not sure what were my reasons, I am not even sure whether I had a stronger desire to traverse Sar Pass or not to go backward but one thing was very clear in my mind – I wanted to move ahead and face that storm, irrespective of the consequences. I had thought of the worst and for some reason it didn’t bother me.

 

My chain of thought was broken by a discussion among people around me. Turned out that one girl had started feeling very cold and was finding it hard to cope up with it. Another girl, who was on oxygen previously got too scared and had started crying. We told our group leader that we want to move ahead, the group leader had a talk with the sherpas and the sherpas eventually told him that they will not recommend moving forward because of the bad weather and if the group wants to go ahead it should do so at its own responsibility. The fact that there were quite a few people in the group who weren’t well prepared for conditions like these, that some people wanted to go down anyways, and that two girls were in bad shape was enough to make the group leader take the call to go back.

 

So, within 300 ft elevation and a few kms distance of our destination we decided to go back. Most of us were dejected at not being able to achieve in theory what we came for, but for most practical purposes we had done what we set out for – experience the beauty of nature in one of the purest forms, while damaging it in the least possible way. I am not sure what the final 300ft had in store for us, but not knowing it doesn’t in the least take anything away from what we had experienced in traversing the 7000 ft till that point. If anything, nature has given me a reason to go back there and finish what I have left out this time.