I had some work in Delhi so I departed Mumbai Domestic Airport in a pin stripe suit with mountaineering boots to try to keep my baggage below 20kg, always a good look. On the 26th of July, I took an early morning flight to Kulu airport. It was like flying in the New Zealand Alps in a Pilatus Porter, circling to wait for a clearance in the cloud followed by a sprint up the mountain valley to get in before the cloud closed in again.
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| Manali |
A 45 minute drive saw me settling into my budget hotel in bustling Manali. According to the locals Manali was quiet until the militancy in Kashmir forced travelers on the hippie circuit to look for other locations. A reliable supply of high quality local cannabis made Manali a very popular location particularly with post military service Israeli’s who prowled the streets in large groups. Like the Gaza strip with bongs!
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| TATA Truck at Rhotang |
I met my team consisting of Bagwhan and Mohan along with their boss Kaushal and made plans for a 4am departure on the 27th of August to try to avoid the inevitable traffic jam on Rohtang Pass the next morning
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| And we think Mumbai traffic is bad! |
Rhotang Pass at 3978 metres, literally translates into “field of corpses”, a testimony to it longevity over 1,000’s of years as the access route to the valleys to the north and the dangers of crossing a snow bound pass on foot. Each summer the thaw would reveal a field of corpses. The traffic built as we climbed until, at a point notorious for landslides, we ground to a halt at a single lane section. The cause of the delay was people trying to navigate a Suzuki Swift on roads that in Australia would be 4WD only. This, combined with a constant line of the ubiquitous TATA truck, meant that it was slow going to the top. For me it was a welcome relief as my nerves had been well and truly worn by a hard charging driver, tyres with exposed steel belts and no seat belts anywhere to be seen.
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| Thick mud on a landslide run out |
Once over Rohtang Pass, we left most of the traffic behind at Gramphoo as we turned off to drive upstream towards the north east in the Chandra Bhaga Valley towards Bartel which was where we would start walking in to Base Camp. Turning upstream soon took literal meaning as there were many “nullahs” or creeks cutting the road.
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| Now where did I put that tie down strap? |
Once again the Suzuki Swift drivers punished their little vehicles in difficult water crossings. One became stuck and a TATA truck volunteered to tow it out with the Suzuki Swift driver offering the tie down strap from the roof rack as a tow rope. Needless to say, the probability of success was low but they went ahead with the plan, the tie down strap snapping in spectacular fashion. After this failed
attempt the truck driver reach into his roof box and immediately pulled out a substantial tow rope. Why this was not offered in the first place I don’t know. Perhaps it is all part of the street theatre for tourists!
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| Nullah cutting the road |
After a 6 hour drive to cover approximately 100 kilometres we arrived at Bartel to a Tibetan owned tea house which was a hive of activity with tour group stopping frequently on the way to Kaza and Chandra Lal a spectacular and popular lake. A cheerful evening was spent with a French brother and sister and a German Swiss couple touring on an Enfield.
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| Bartel tea house |
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| Nepali Porter on the walk to Base Camp |
The morning of the 28th of August the Nepalese porters loaded up and we commenced our walk from Bartel at 4,000 metres to Base Camp at 4,400 metres. About 300 Nepalese spend the season working as porter sbased in Manali. Consistent with their reputation, they were strong and tough and, as I was informed by Bhagwhan, they are willing to do work that Indians are not willing to do.
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| Arid...... |
The country became more arid as we approach Base Camp but we travelled quickly with the walk only taking 3.5 hours and established the Camp with chapattis cooking on the stove. We had an acclimatization day in Base Camp on the 29th of August and was visited by the local shepherds after all the porters except one returned to Bartel then on to Manali.
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| ...but not devoid of life. |
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| Local Shepherd |
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| Looking back to BC over the glacial moraine |
On the 30th we left base camp and slogged through the glacial moraine to Camp1 at 4,800 metres where we had our first views of CB 13 and enjoyed spectacular view across the Dakka Glacier to a hanging glacier on the opposite side of the valley.
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Pitching Camp1 with CB13 in the background
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| CB 13 with our route being the ridge on the right |
The morning of the 31st we packed up and had a short 1.5 hour climb to Camp 2 at 5,300 metres. Along the way we saw the wreckage of an Indian Air Force transport plane which crashed killing 1968 killing all on board. Wreckage and equipment was still strewn over the glacier ranging from aircraft parts to boots. Large pieces of wreckage protects the glacial ice below from the effects of the sun meaning that, over time, the surrounding ice had melted away leaving these “headstones” of wreckage sitting proud of the glacier. A sobering sight!
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| Dakka Glacier below Camp 1 |
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| Aircraft wreckage |
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| Camp 2 |
The 1st was planned for a summit day as I had acclimatized quickly and was feeling good. I spent the afternoon scouting a route through the bergshrunds which resulted in a change from the route with which Bhagwhan was familiar. The nest morning at 4am we set off for the summit working our way between crevasses to the col on the ridge, apart from brief fall to my waist in a crevasse, the route to the col was easy. The ridge above saw front pointing with tools at the low dagger on 40 to 50 degree ice roped up but happy not to be placing any protection. Steeper sections were interspersed with small and relatively flat scree section which gave a welcome break for our calves.
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| Ridge to the summit (not my photo) |
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| Col on the ridge |
Our progress slowed as our breathing rate increased at around 5800 meters and we disappeared into the cloud which was a real change in the observed weather patterns. Perhaps the monsoon had finally arrived and had spilled over the mountains. Four hours after leaving Camp 2 w arrived at a point a couple of metres below the crumbly rock summit. Bhagwhan said that the locals did not like people standing on the summit. Although I hadn’t really seen any locals, I didn’t feel like arguing so we shook hands and took some photos with cloud for a back ground. Still here I was at 6,260 metres only 6 days after leaving sea level.
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| Looking back over Camp 2 then Camp 1 |
We quickly descended, feel much more comfortable as we broke through the clouds and back into the sunshine. We had lots of time so I worked with the guys placing some running belays on the decent, more as an exercise to develop understand than through a particular requirement to protect the route. This proved fortuitous as on reaching the Col, Bhagwhan did not want to follow the same route though the bergschrunds, preferring to stick to the scree which was to the left when descending. I reluctantly agreed only to find us sliding in ankle deep scree towards yawning crevasses. I was not happy when I told them to stop and to move onto the ice where I built a belay station so we could belay our way down the final descent through the open ‘schrunds. This gave us some more practice in construction and managing belays on good ice screws. I was thankful for this as, after belaying down Bhagwan and Mohan, I was climbing down to join them when a large rock slid and struck me in the knee sending me sliding toward a slot. At this point I was thankful that we had taken the safe option.
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| The summit but not much of a view |
An uneventful decent to Camp 2 followed and we quickly packed up and descended to Base Camp with me limping through the moraine with a sore knee.
On the 2nd we quickly walked out to Bartel, organized a horseman to pick up the Base Camp equipment and ordered a car for the next day. The return drive was uneventful perhaps because there was tread on the tyres! I arrived back in Manali to discover that it had been raining all week and there had been no flights from Kulu for the preceding 5 days. I left in a cab on the morning of the 3rd, fully expecting to end up on a 12 hour bus ride to Delhi instead of a 50 minute flight. The omens were not good as the flooding river had undercut the road leaving only one lane, which would probably not last the day. Much to my surprise and to the surprise of the Kingfisher staff, the clouds parted at Kulu long enough for the flight to land. Once again we had the full mountain experience as the pilot sat on the runway threshold with the brakes on while building the engine rpm. The aircraft was trying to shake itself to pieces before the pilot released the brakes for a dramatic acceleration and a quick take off and climb to an altitude above the clouds.
