I completed my first high altitude trek

A few days before we took off to attempt the Phulara Ridge trek, my friends Shikhar and Siddharth and I went to a store to buy all of the stuff we needed.

We grabbed a basket each and diverged paths like soldiers covering ground on a battlefield. Slowly, we filled our baskets to the brim with sweaters, gloves, caps, trekking poles, rain covers, sunglasses, headlamps and water bottles. The printed bill at the counter at the end of two hours informed me that I had spent Rs. 13,000, which was lesser than I’d expected. We reached Indiahikes’ Kotgaon basecamp after a long, stomach-turning (we popped a couple of Avomine tablets so we were mostly fine) car ride up from the Dehradun airport. We only stopped in between for breakfast and lunch, during which we found a beautiful river and dipped our feet and skipped stones.

Indiahikes is big on sustainability, and this was evident as soon as we stepped foot in the basecamp. It was mostly bare with a few strange-looking contraptions, which we later learnt were shoe- and utensil-cleaning stations that were optimised for minimal water wastage.

“You look like you’re full of energy”, we were sarcastically greeted by the trek leader, Sindhu.

Moments later, my fellow trekkers and I stood in a circle. Sindhu walked us through what to expect on our first day and as she spoke, we all sized each other up. Among us, there was a group of giggly college girls, families with young and quiet kids, and couples who looked like they hiked every weekend for fun. After dinner together, we gathered in a common room. Sindhu and a couple of guides who would be accompanying us on the trek, presented the map of the journey we were about to take. While concluding the session, she sternly reminded us that we were in this together as a family.

I slept soundly that night in a room occupied by the giggly college girls.

The next morning, we were up early and awaiting our black teas and breakfast. Sindhu went from room to room measuring our blood pressures and oxygen levels, a practice that would be followed every morning for the rest of the week. My blood pressure turned out to be 60-something, which one of my fellow trekkers expressed concern about. ”Isn’t that too low?”, he asked Sindhu. ”No, it just means she’s really relaxed right now” she replied. I was relaxed, surprisingly. It was the first day of our ascent and I assumed I would feel more nervous. After changing into our trekking clothes — cotton socks, a cap, a dry-fit t-shirt and dry-fit pants, we strapped on our “eco bags”, waist pouches in which we would collect trash during the trek. I struggled to tie my shoelaces in a butterfly knot as instructed by a guide, so Siddharth did it for me. We ran around in circles while singing “fire in the mountain, run, run, run” to warm up and soon after, stomping our trekking poles into the ground, we began the journey.

The first hour was a little difficult. We were getting used to the heavy bags on our backs and the tight trekking shoes on our feet. Groups began forming as we sped through the ascent, and the distance between each group increased by the second. The couples who looked like they hiked every weekend stayed at the front with the guide who was leading us, while the giggly college girls and a couple of parents fell behind, accompanied by Sindhu. My friends and I hovered between the middle and the front. We were accompanied by some furry guides too, one of whom was named Ram Charan.

We took frequent breaks to recoup and regather. We chatted, gulped down ORS water, ate bananas, clicked photos and took in the gorgeous views.

There were also some less friendly furry accompaniments we had. They were the mules who carried the things that the trekkers had offloaded, as well as our camping and cooking essentials. Whenever they would pass by, we were advised to stand at a safe distance from them. I wondered why until one giggly college girl was butted by one.

When we felt a few raindrops falling, we quickly wore our ponchos and walked on. The different groups now had a significant amount of distance between them, and it widened because of the rain. It started pouring cats and dogs so we took shelter in a small structure covered by black plastic sheets that had served as a camp for another trek. It was dark and dingy inside and a few of us got some shuteye. After what seemed like an eternity, the rain slowed down. We caught a glimpse of light shining through the gaps in the black covers, telling us it was time to carry on.

Thanks to the rains and the frequent breaks we took, we reached our first camp, Akondi (8700 feet) very late in the afternoon. We had initially planned to reach well before lunchtime, so it was a little dissapointing to see that we were already behind on the plan.

We were informed by Sindhu that only married couples and people of the same gender were allowed to stay in tents together. I had come with two male friends, so I began hunting for a tent partner — Sheetal, a 48-year old solo trekker who gifted this trek to herself as an early birthday gift, met my wandering eyes with a warm smile and an aggressive nod when I asked her if she would be my tent partner. We lay our wet clothes on top of the tent to dry them, and settled inside as comfortably as we could.

As the evening drew closer, we shuffled around outside our tents, making conversation and sipping tea. Snehal, a friendly woman who had come with her partner (one of those hike-every-weekend-looking couples) announced that she had a fun game in mind that we could all play together. It was called Ninja. We would all have to stand around in a circle and try to oust the person next to us with quick movements. I instantly knew I’d suck at it because of my awful reflexes, but I participated anyway. We played it several times, and all the games ended in nail-biting duels. We laughed and cheered. We went on to do a few improv sessions too.

But despite the fun and games, the atmosphere remained contained. There were a few among us who were clearly not doing well. A little girl who had come with her family cried, an 18-year old solo trekker felt sick and chose to go back to the basecamp the next morning with the help of a guide. It was starting to feel testing. Sheetal and I were awoken several times that night by the sound of dogs chasing each other, growling, snapping and barking near our tent but we still managed to get a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, we shivered while cleaning our utensils and hands after breakfast. Watching us struggle, Manish, an enthusiastic and seasoned 50-something year old man, said, “I only use sanitizer and mouthwash on treks. The water is always too cold.”

Siddharth and I glanced at each other like we’d just heard the world’s greatest advice.

After breakfast, Sindhu announced, “I need two volunteers to be assistant trek leaders.”

Shikhar and Siddharth raised their hands. They were now, along with Sindhu, in charge of keeping the group together, on track and safe during the trek. The rest of us were split into medical officer volunteers who would measure and note down everybody’s vitals regularly and fitness volunteers who would help the group warm up every morning (Snehal and I chose to be the latter. It sounded like the most fun among the options.)

I wanted to test my stamina this day, so I decided to try to stay at the front of the group the entire time. I managed to do this. The ascent was peppered with more incredible views than the day before. There was one particular meadow surrounded by bushes of rhododendrons, that was breathtaking (quite literally too, because there were strong and cold winds here.)

After wading through waterstreams, navigating muddy slides and walking-sliding through rocky patches and bits of ice, we reached our second camp, Bhoj Gadi at 11,000 feet. My friends and I volunteered to make ginger tea for everyone. We fired up a portable stove attached to a cooking gas cannister, and I grated the ginger with admirable focus. To my surprise, the tea turned out good and we didn’t hear any complaints from anyone (other than one “it’s a little too sweet”)

The plan for the next morning was to wake up bright and early at 6 AM, and start our ascent by 8 AM to reach the summit and walk the ridge. We would celebrate our journey there.

As the weather worsened, this plan seemed to move further away from our reach.

I shivered out of fear and cold in my sleeping bag that night as rain, wind and hail threatened to collapse our tent. When we zipped our tents open in the morning, we were greeted by glassy sheets of hail on the ground and fog everywhere around us.

“Go back in your tents and rest. Our plan’s postponed.” Sindhu said.

We spent that day shuffling between the bigger dining tent and our smaller living tents, looking for warmth and company to pass the time. We laughed, shivered and cried (well, I shed a few tears) together as it thundered, rained and hailed incessantly for over 24 hours. We talked about everything from our jobs to our relationships. We shared personal anecdotes and warm gloves. That day, I learnt that the worst of times can bring out the best in people.

Though it was a difficult day that turned out differently from our plan of celebrating on the ridge, I cherish the memory of it, especially one moment towards the end of dinner-

It was Shikhar’s birthday the next day. He had been looking forward to eating gulab jamun throughout the trek because he’d had it on previous treks he did with Indiahikes. Either by coincedence or a stroke of luck, we recieved gulab jamun during dinner that day.

We all sang happy birthday while he elatedly gulped down a gulab jamun.

As the cold and dark night fell upon us, there was one glaring problem to address. There were several tents, including my friends’, that were completely wet. They had collected pools of water on the sides and it seeped through the rest of the tent. Almost all of their bags, blankets and things were soaked. During the day, I had occasionally helped them collect and throw out water from inside the tent but this was futile. It was unfortunately happening in all the tents that were placed on slopes. Though mine and Sheetal’s tent was not on a slope, many of my things had gotten wet too, including the mat and cloth I was sleeping on.

We made do. The guides dug holes around the tents to divert the water. Plastic covers for the ground and extra sleeping bags were distributed. Since my side of the tent was wet, I bid adieu to Sheetal for the night and shared an unoccupied tent with my friends. Bundled up in a tent that was definitely not made to house three adults, we slept like babies, partly because we were exhausted and partly because of the inescapable warmth our bodies were emanating.

At 12 AM, Siddharth and I awoke and groggily wished Shikhar a happy birthday. He laughed, thanked us and stepped out of the tent to stare at the stars while Siddharth and I quickly fell back to sleep in our sleeping bags.

I woke up at around 6 AM to the sound of people’s voices outside the tent. They were discussing the prospect of making a quick unplanned stop at the ridge above before we started descending. My friends and I hurriedly joined them. Sindhu strictly told us, a suddenly eager group of 7 or 8 trekkers, that we were to be back to the camp by 7 AM for breakfast. We set off.

Though it was short, I found the walk to be strenous. We went through slippery sections of ice and narrow paths before reaching the beginning of the ridge.

And there it was, right in front of us — the stunning Phulara ridge in all its glory. Though my ears felt like they were about to pop and my lungs compress, I could see why it was worth it.

“I love you, my kitty!”, Manish suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.

“My kitty?” Siddharth looked at me, confused.

“He means his wife.” I said.

Since our original plan of descending a part of the distance on the third day was spoiled by the weather, we had to go the entire distance to the basecamp this day. After a yummy breakfast and tea, we were all geared up and ready for it. I even finally did the butterfly knot with my shoelaces on my own. Descending through meadows, boulders, a forest and waterstreams became increasingly hard on our knees, calves and toes that were being pinched by the tight shoes. I slipped and fell a couple of times. My feet began to numb and it was hard to focus on much else. I often glanced at Sindhu, who carried an oxygen tank and a huge garbage bag filled to the brim with plastic, and trudged on.

The good parts — the weather remained sunny and calm throughout, so we were covering the distance quickly and with relative ease. Our eco bags, which were mostly empty since we’d been laser-focused on ascending and surviving the past couple of days, were starting to fill up.

Several hours later, when we finally stepped foot on the road we started our journey from, one of the giggly college girls who had been struggling with knee pain throughout the descent, began crying.

It started to rain on our walk back to the basecamp, but it didn’t matter. We were on flat ground again. Soon, we would have beds to sleep on. Soon, we would have access to toilets with water. Soon, we would be able to wear comfortable clothes and ditch the dry-fit tees and pants.

That evening in the basecamp, we all sat in the common room and talked about our experiences on the trek, the parts we liked and disliked and if it met our expectations. Now, I don’t want to bore you with long-winding recollections of what everyone said, so here’s a summary of my thoughts and feelings-

I can’t wait for my next trek.