In shirtsleeves to Zingzingbar

The very first glance of The Tribune report on May 2, ‘Now, tourists can travel up to Zingzingbar beyond Darcha’, and its evocative photograph triggered a cascade of memories of a merry trek, long back in the mid-1960s.

Taken by surprise on the grant of unscheduled leave, my wife and I lost no time to head straight for our friend John Banon’s homestay at Manali to consult him on “where and how to”, next!

John had a fund of knowledge of the Kullu Himalayas and tempted us to “stroll” to Baralacha La (16,040 ft), descend to Chandra Taal (14,100 ft), Khoksar (10,500 ft) and back over the Rohtang Jot (13,050 ft) to John’s pad. We had the time and the desire, but the non-existence of dehydrated foodstuff, basic clothing and footwear for high-altitude outdoors for love or money, constrained us to trim our outreach up to Zingzingbar-Baralacha La and back.

Aided by three experienced and companionable porters-cum-guides — Wangyal, Zangbo and Angchook, handpicked by John — we set forth with 12-20 kg laden rucksacks each. On reaching Marhi (about 10,800 ft) on the second day and encountering a mule train heading to Keylong, Wangyal suggested that for the next day we hire one pony for the baggage to Rohtang Pass and the descent to Khoksar. So, feeling feather light during the ascent to Rohtang, we were further enthused by a solitary, wayside open-air eatery, with the pretentious hoarding, ‘Nepali Hotel’. The hotelier couple revived us with delicious, spice-laden pakoras and cups of extra-sweet hot tea fired over a Primus stove.

Much as the gradient up to the Pass was hard on our lungs, the steep 12-km descent to Khoksar, a cluster of the first few huts of Lahaul valley, was punishing on the knees and toes. We were glad to remove our packs and literally collapse inside, this time the one-tent ‘Lahaul Hotel’. Our hosts, a charming Lahauli couple, pointed to a tin shed across the stream at Gramphu, and stated that the inaugural minibus service to Keylong was slated for next morning and we buy tickets lest they be sold out!

We were stunned on noticing the frenetic last-minute checks on the nuts and bolts of two modified Willys jeeps to seat 10 passengers each. But how did they get to Khoksar? Well, they were dismembered at Manali but no one could tell for sure how exactly the knocked-down assemblies and barrels of petrol were humped up and slithered down the Rohtang. But that is where they were, the first-ever minibuses in Lahaul on July 31, 1965. We promptly bought five tickets at Rs 4 each.

As may be imagined, the 30-km stretch to Tandi, the confluence of Chandra and Bhaga tributaries forming the Chenab river, was an un-metalled, narrow dirt track and certain segments lay over a steep gradient. The driver knew the limits of his machine. He would pull up at difficult pitches, ask us all to get down, off-load all baggage and collectively push the jeep as he revved the engine to its hilt! Once the gradient eased, we would retrieve our belongings, reclaim our seats in much laughter and merriment, till the next difficult patch.

Patseo, our next destination, was the shortest thus far and we got into a deliberate, leisurely stride. Next day, short of Darcha, we froze in our tracks; as far as the eye could see, the entire space was carpeted with a rich bloom of White Balsam, such that when I stepped back a few paces to capture it on film, all I could see of my wife was simply her head above the flowers! To get going, I had to bluff off better blooms ahead.

Lost in the fragrance of Narcissus behind Patseo Rest House.

Providentially, the slopes around the Patseo rest house were covered by clusters of what resembled and exuded the fragrance of Narcissus. Sadly, none of such floral treasure exists today because of damage related to the road construction to Leh. We could have gone straight to Baralacha but wading through the Bhaga at midday was intimidating, and our guides were adamant that we would tackle it around midnight when parts transformed into solid ice. In any case, the name ‘Zingzingbar’ of a century-old caravan serai, at the base of Baralacha, was too romantic sounding not to spend a night at! There had never been any human presence but ample evidence of the old structure and the fact that it was still frequented by traders to Leh and back.

We were awoken past midnight and after a mug of tea, roped up to cautiously step over the snow-bridge of Wangyal’s choosing and the last stretch of the snow-encrusted steep gradient leading to the Pass, reaching just before dawn. As we sipped black coffee, thoughtfully carried and handed with a smile by Zangbo, there was the welcome sound of jingling bells, an approaching herd of Pashmina goats from somewhere in Ladakh. And these were the only wayfarers that we encountered as we trekked the entire length.

We were in fit fettle now and covered Patseo to Keylong in one day. However, we had a promise to keep with the proprietors of Lahaul Hotel. Fortified by their hospitality and the snug warmth of hearth, we ascended Rohtang in time to witness dawn break over Lahaul and Kullu valleys and then merrily jogged down-slope, reaching Manali by the afternoon to the comfort of a bath after 11 days and a 154-km “stroll”. It was an unforgettable venture considering that rest houses and hotels of the time catered to no personal conveniences.

As an aside, the “stroll” accounted for Rs 387, slightly over half of an Army Captain’s month’s princely salary!

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