Tirthan valley : Chippni to Kandi meadow hike

Tirthan and Sainj valleys nestle the Great Himalayan National Park. Since long these valleys have captured our heart and imagination. On our first day here, we planned a day-hike from the small village of Chipni, that lies deep in the Tirthan valley with Dilip Singh as our guide.

In first week of June cool breeze, blue skies, few scattered clouds and a loud sound of the river in the valley are dreamy for a person coming from the dusty, hot plains of North India. The track was initially a dirt road that is being paved to a motorable road, the impact of transition, the dichotomy of perspectives it brings and the milieu that brings it, were the constant undercurrent of our hike. The impact that we see, with our selfish urban eyes to preserve our living museums of peace which we can visit, the divided desires of hill folk to be left to their unchanged ways or to catch up with constant invasion of globalisation, the rapacious contractor juggernaut, the milking of opportunity by the clever, the romantic as always catching the imagination but alive only for the literary evening. Sides cannot be taken, for we are the urbanity that demands more while cherishing the unspoilt - but not at the cost of our discomfort. The road being built to connect these remote villages and the home stays being built in anticipation of the tourist being the case in the point. Tourists would help the local economy but destroy the place they actually come to. Responsible tourism and development are euphemisms and in the balance between the responsibility and greed the chasm widens. Also who determines what is responsible ? When does it tradition to an irreparable loss ? What are the aspirations, needs or desires of the local inhabitants, planning officials, the world wise who are imagining and imposing and of the government ? Whose needs and whose desires and whose suffering ?

The valley is blessed with numerous streams, cascading glacial water and resonates with the song of water as it dances fluidly over the rocks and frequently applauds its performance with a waterfall and crown of froth. The water is an ethereal turquoise when its stops in the pools that form burg fallen trees and big boulders. The track twists through two villages after which it bifurcates into two and we took the one heading up. Lined by small berries that are edible slightly sour and flowers so bright that they shine in their yellow, blue, white, lilac and red we were entering heaven as it could have been imagined. Soon enough a tight bend later we were at a plateau, the mountain side opened up wide and flat. 

Fields filled in the space with garlic, wheat, maize and vegetables and the track narrowed to a paved footpath. The adjacent houses sparkling clean, well tended to, and the village street full of activity. Elders walking slow and making queries, the children playing and gaping at us as we walked along, young people in the fields, it felt that this is the village that Gandhiji would have dreamt - prosperous, seemed cohesive and in the lap of bountiful nature. 

As the homes receded the track closed in and we reached the surrounding apple orchards. Resting at a bend, with clear water flowing by the side a man beckoned us to rest. It had been an hour of an arduous walk and we sat on the shady grassy patch. The man was very interesting, did not seem in a hurry but had a purpose. We had a discussion on the other hikes we could do and how the village was. He gathered his bag and left and we filled our bottles and headed in the opposite direction. While passing through we had briefly stopped at Roshan’s home stay and arranged that we would stop for lunch on the way back. In the meantime the plan changed and now we had decided to do a circuit and head back from a different village. Roshan had to be informed and by now we were some distance ahead. A woman tending to her cows was headed to the village and assured that the message would be passed, which relieved us and simultaneously made us more aware of a community living. 

Crossing the stream on the wooden planks we entered the forests and made our way up on a small but steep climb. The mountains facing us were tall, green, topped with snow and very inviting. Monaal was making her mark on the climbs, on the flat dusty track she preferred to sit in my shoulders but after we entered G village she was continuously running and walking. I can sense her strength on hikes, initially I had to carry her on my back and ensure that her back was supported, then she was self supported but I held her ankles such that she would not fall down, then she became taller and now we developed a system of “head down” where in she would stoop to get her cheeks next to mine and an overhead obstacle could be cleared, then she has started to talk and play games with me as we walk, at times she sleeps and I can feel the drooling saliva on my hair. She drives me like a boat, once she has learnt left and right - tugging my corresponding ear to make turns. At times at critical junctures she has covered my eyes or pulled my ears when she gets frightened and hold me hard. Throat chokes in her strong grip when we cross a steep incline or when a dog comes running happen too. But now she wanted to walk and run and made a good impression even on the steep climbs where she would scramble on her fours to haul herself up. 

Surrounded by tall handsome trees, we sat on the grassy soil that sprang up flowers of all colours. Chatting with the namesake of Prince of Punjab - Dileep Singh, our guide told of his orchard, the plan to build a home stay and so on. The Kandi - was this grassy glade, a high alpine meadow, surrounded by forests and streams overlooking the valley. A great place for a picnic but we had no food with us and decided to head down after the rest. The path down was via another village. It was steep and with Monaal back on my back, slightly tricky. 

Passing through apple orchards and neatly laid out fields and houses, it was a dream to walk through. There were flowers, coloured leaves that mimicked flowers on every imaginable green that grew. To walk we trampled many, ate berries that grew in nooks and corners. And stopped often to soak in the scape. At the sides of the village and their fields the forest licked the corners and in between these colourful palate spanned out. The houses blended in the hillside, the traditional structure with ground floor for the animals and their feed, the first floor having small rooms and large continuous balconies and generous attics on the top. Neat, self sustained and confident they merge with the environment they stand in. 

Back on the dusty track we headed back to our night stay and our companion - Brownie escorted us back till the gate and turned back promptly without a fuss. He accompanied us from G village al the way up and down. The end to a beautiful walk in the mountains with lots of permanent images in our heart and soul. 

Tirthan valley - Bashleo pass

  A vast expanse of an undulating green meadow surrounded by trees at three sides and snow line on the other. Overseeing the Bashleo top while sitting at the slightly higher pass we lay on our backs. Watching the Lammergier circle right above us in smaller concentric circles, the sheep nibbling away in the meadow, Kali mata by our side guarding this heaven, lying in the endless grass at our eye level were zillions of flowers of colours difficult to typify. Each flower had multiple colours and shades, none was only a pink or white. The white had blue on its central undersurface and pink on the tips of the upper surface, the colour of the flower depending on where you see. The breeze and silence and energy was mesmerising and this would never escape our hearts. No picture or description could do justice to where we reached after our tiring hike. This is Bashleo top and pass in Tirthan, you could just carry on from here and finish in Sarahan or go back to Chippni, from where we started. 

Damm and Shalini forewarned that this a full day hike, and we packed in our picnic. Deepam, Monaal and me left from Chippni with our guide early in the morning. Going up the path that we had be traversing daily for the last few days on our recent hikes as we stayed in Tirthan, we were on familiar grounds. Soon enough we broke through the village and entered the forest. The day was glorious and the surrounding mountains at their glorious bests. The forest was dense and old, a well settled ecosystem in the forest. Lots of herbs, small trees, old trees, grass, full of small streams of gurgling water and umpteen insects, birds. It had the feel of a well settled society, where in each component had a lineage, history and role. This was not a forest that had been uprooted and re-settled, it is an ancient forest. The diversity of trees, herbs, birds, presence of many black Himalaya bears was seductive. Some trees so wide that twenty Deepams could fit into the tree core, the trees that had fallen were long enough to bridge adjacent slopes. We were in the kingdom of gods and heaven. 

So far Monaal has always travelled on my shoulders in all our hikes, but today I wanted to rest off my back  and was quite sore from the Munna top excursion the previous day. We had Lal with us to guide us up and he had agreed to carry Monaal on his shoulders. As we crossed the first village and the gradient picked up, going up on fours nearly in some sections, Monaal wanted to go up on me. When she was hauled up on Lal, she started to cry. Most hill ople are supestitious and its not difficult to imagine why, living in such harsh places with nature forces always looking over your shoulder. Lal was concerned with Monaal crying as that would invoke the Devi’s to look upon us, the gods also prefer silence perhaps. Monaal was cajoled and Lal was very gentle and persuasive, soon she was friends with him. Taking off his cap and playing with him, which was fun for him as well. They developed a nice balance within them, of sitting upon and emotionally also. Letting them lead ahead every now and then we would get some time together, which we get so little. The forest, slight breeze, silence and togetherness were a intoxicating mix. It seems Gods truly would roam here, their own garden. The green, shadows and every now and then would appear a stream of crystal water. 

The going was not very steep but the gradient relentless, no flat sections or down slopes intermittently. Lal would give ambiguous answers about the remaining distance, we always felt we were 75% through, since the first hour we had traversed. The forest changed the trees, pine like trees appeared, the white, pink, red rhododendrons appeared in profusion next to brooks, the small yellow, blue and white flowers appeared in small cleanings. The track along the mountain side had sections, where the slope on the side was nearly on eye level and there in the Sun these small flowers, seen in magnification exhibited all their colours and smiles. The climb seemed to finish where we took a sharp curve on the ridge looking over the valley of GNHP (overlooking Jibbhi in the distance). Here we lay under the trees, overlooking the intensely wooded valley, snaking up and ending into two formidable mountains up at the apex. Lal narrated the story of two hikers who lost their way here were rescued by a heli-rescue. It was a seductive valley at its best. The sore limbs we had, enjoyed the breeze while our eyes feasted on the green valley and spotless blue sky. Monaal was full of energy riding on her high place. Lal bluffed us to believe we were almost there and we carried on under the belief that the next ridge was the pass, we were aiming for. We took a shortcut and the track narrowed significantly, at times steep enough to give a dizzy feel, but seeing Lal prance along with Monaal did not allow us to hesitate or complain ever to ourselves. We just carried on without uttering a word. We started to enter a grassy section, the trees started to space up and the gradient eased out but continued along. The streams became more profuse and the surrounding flowers more numerous. It was like treading on carpets of yellow, white and others. I was reminded of Valley of Flowers but in a different dimension. It was far more beautiful and sublime here. We were on a high, the feet were not touching the earth, we were walking in trance and above the earth. The meadow opened up and there was another section of incline. That was torturous after this long hike, and by now we did not trust Lal that we were there, mentally we thought we were another hour away. But as we entered the last climb, the vista of the Bashleo top opened up. 


The alpine meadow took away the tiredness and the eyes opened up wide. A Lemeergier welcomed us on, smaller circles, it dropped its bones for the marrow and these sounds could be heard. In the corner of the meadow were a small Gaddi settlement with some cows, two horses and some sheep. We moved further to the pass. At the apex was a Kali mandir, Monaal kept silent here and ran across the meadows, much to the relief of Lal. Sitting on a rock overlooking the meadow on side, Sarahan on the other, the snow line hugging in both sides. The Gaddi herdsman, with his Mehandi coloured beard sat on an outcrop overlooking his settlement, meditating and contemplative. Heaven doesn’t seem better than this. The sandwiches came out of the bag, with little fruit and a  juice. We could have stayed here as long, and indeed a part of our souls stayed back. 

We started our walk back and the forest engulfed us soon. We decided to do a loop and head back a different path. Infact Lal was in his element here and took us through the forest where there was no path, only his sense of direction. We walked over grass, moss, roots and what seemed a virgin forest. The bear in his presence for us was omnipresent and added a tingle. As we walked back, we started to collect plastic wrappers when we saw any. Lal would gather them and burn them when ever we took a halt and that motivated us too. We collected them in a hip bag that Shalini had packed our sandwiches in. With the gradient now to our benefit, the landings soft due to the soft earth and covering green, our legs were happy and we made rapid progress. Now we wanted to slow down to not let this dream run end. 

At the last meadow that we would cross we thought to burn off the plastic we had collected, now the bag was full. Lal volunteered to head to the corner of the meadow and feed it to Agni. He went off while we sat soaking in the sun. He came back victoriously, but had burned off the bag as well. Damm - what would we tell Shalini??

At the end of the last meadow, on the back the snow peaks appeared with clarity and closeness that seemed intimate. The flowers in profusion added all the colour that eyes can appreciate. The pictures taken could never do justice, with impressions on our heart we headed on. The Shrikhand Mahadev among all the peaks that were in all their glory left a mark and we thought we would be back for this, soon. Soon we reached the last village, now Lal took us further through fields where there was no path again and only his sense of direction. Through apple orchards, cannabis cultivation, by the brook, eating numerous wild berries and drinking in all the water we could. The trees closed in intermittently, we kept our feet in knee deep undergrowth and occasionally found a covered stream with squish of the feet. Back on the road, our bones now groaned after the full day of continuous work. We hailed a truck of workmen and climbed back in the open bay with the tools they had stored. Monaal got comfortable in the cavity of the spare tire and we held the overhead bars. As we sped along the dirt track, the cake of fine dust was baked on us and we entered the house of Damm and Shalini, happy and satisfied and tired, looking forward to the warm shower. 

The hike is a day long walk, through alpine forests, well shaded with plenty of water sources, but its advisable to carry a picnic for eating. Its not tough but enough for a day with moderate fitness levels.