Tarsar – Marsar trek : through Heaven and back

“Not all those who wander are lost” – J.R.R.Tolkien

Kashmir.

The mere mention of the name is enough to evoke a myriad of emotions in us all. A sense of wonder at the hidden natural treasures, a sense of despair for the things that could be, a sense of wanting to belong.
In my short span of existence, Kashmir is by far the most exquisitely beautiful place that I have ever been lucky enough to step foot in. I do not tread lightly in using these words, Kashmir is truly heaven on Earth.

Slice of Heaven

It is into this paradise that a motley group of 20 of us descended (or ascended) into. We were all bound by a single common underlying desire – to enjoy and experience nature in its most true form, much like wanting to meet the girl of your dreams just minutes after she wakes up; wherein her natural beauty is not blemished by unnecessary artificial distractions. Brought together by the vagaries of chance and the availability of affordable flight tickets, this group of people did not fully comprehend maybe when they assembled for the first time, that they were the only companions they were going to have on the forthcoming 6 days of their life, the Tarsar – Marsar Trek.

Natural welcome by Nature

To make an attempt to describe the rawness of the beauty which we were constantly surrounded by is blasphemy in itself, for words will never be able to do justice to what our senses have tasted, then greedily gorged upon, savored and attempted to digest. Nonetheless, I shall attempt to do the same, for nature belongs to us all and the joy shall only be compounded on sharing.

Trek map – Courtesy Indiahikes

Aru, Lidderwat, Shekhiwas, Tarsar, Sundersar, Sonmasti. The names of our campsites slip off my tongue like well-rehearsed dialogues of a play, but their significance seems way more than just scattered spots left to be forgotten in the memory. A source of fresh water omnipresent in the background – our source of crystal cold, life providing natural water, a group of our tents pitched together in their attempt to show solidarity against the ever rising mountains, the complete lack of technology at our disposal and the joys of solitude and helplessness. Every campsite had the same framework. Every campsite was as good as or even more beautiful than the previous one. Even if we were transported back by a few centuries to the same location, our means of survival would have changed by very little. We were experiencing life exactly as how our great forgotten ancestors had – bereft of outside interference and dependent solely on the self for sustenance.

Campsite at Tarsar lake

Hassled continuously, either by deadlines or appointments or the self-inflicted rules of the body clock, we are in a constant battle with time in our daily lives. It governs each and every aspect of our existence, directly as well as indirectly, making us mere puppets in the hands of its all controlling strings. But up in the mountains, we seemed to believe that we were the masters of our own time. Foolish perhaps, but the belief was very empowering. We had fixed measurable targets for every day, which was dependent on our physical abilities coupled with our will power. The smallest to smallest impediment in our daily progress was foreseen and attended to, all unnecessary trivialities were obscured from our mental vision. We had a great ally in our attempt to feel timeless – the great Mountain itself. Centuries of natural erosion, decades of human inflicted degeneration and yet the Mountain stands majestically tall, unwavering and almost arrogant in its resolution to challenge the existence of Time. Only when you take shelter in its hard but comforting shadow do you realise that the battle between Mountain and Time was just a farce, Time had acquiesced to the greatness of the Mountain even before the fight had begun.

Majestic Mountains

The human brain is a wonderful piece of machinery. The most important of thoughts are stored away under the guise of procrastination while the most inane of matters are always brought to the fore. Devoid of outside interaction, the brain begins to peel away at its own layers. Thoughts, memories, wishes, all begin to be analysed and dissected in a perfectly logical and reasonable manner. In the cities, we would term our ability to come with a solution as an epiphany, an anomaly. Up in the mountains, away from the cacophony, far from the struggle to achieve mental peace, introspection was but a daily aspect of our life.

Silent introspection

The silence that surrounded us was all pervading, broken only by the shrill cries of the crow, the confused bleating of the sheep and the steady gentle bubbling of the stream, happily flowing away on its meandering course. There was no hiding from your inner self, the environment was forcing us to face our battles within!

Beauty beyond comparison

Totally detached from the outside world, the joys of human interaction were being experienced again by the group. Friendships were being forged, memories were being made and documented. The only things which seemed to matter was whether everyone was hale and hearty enough for the next day, for we had all become one common entity, sharing our joys and pain alike. We were not attempting to conquer the mountains, instead we were bowing our heads together in admiration at all that we were witnessing. The only battle which was happening was with our own body and mind, whether we could convince our aching bodies to walk that extra hour more. Each of the 20 people passed this stern test with flying colours, much to the satisfaction of all involved.

A simpler life

Organised ever so efficiently by Indiahikes, we were accompanied by three trek leaders as well as a local guide on the entire trek. Our local guide was a perpetually smiling boyish man, ever so eager to help us as we carefully crossed boulders and rivers even, which he effortlessly almost ran over. The sparkle in his smile was contagious. The trek leaders were our source of almost all information, our source of motivation, our providers of safety, our bundle of experience and our complete back up for every possible help imaginable up in the hills. Kind and courteous, with a generous dose of wit as well, our mountain experience was enriched by their companionship at all stretches of the trek. Every further hour of the trek was converted into just a few minutes more if the question was raised to them of how far out we were from the next camp. They ensured that none of us were left trailing too far back on any day, explained each and every method of adapting to the mountains with safety and ease and ensured that we left the mountains as well as ourselves in a better state from when we had started out on the trek.

Our Lifeline

Helping all of us were the local Kashmiri helpers. They were the people who would leave the campsite in the morning with all utilities and ration bundled on their horses after we had begun our trek, overtake us on the way and prepare the next campsite even before we would reach. The natural fitness and agility with which they moved was quite amazing. They worked tirelessly in order to ensure that we had enjoyed the trek as much as we did for without them it would have been impossible to have done what we did.

After the initial day or two of the trek, life had begun to settle in a nice rhythm. The people who needed a kick start to the day would wake earliest and gladly have the hot tea that was served the instant we were up. Slowly but groggily, we would crawl out of our sleeping bags, looking like caterpillars trying to get rid of their outer cocoons. The people unwilling to have tea were woken up by a trademark shout of one our trek leaders, a shout which never failed. The adventurous and desperate people would make their way to the toilet tent, often lining up obediently, and attempt to rid their bodies of waste which was followed by a bit of gardening. Breakfast would be a hurried affair, for the beginning of the day would set the pace for the rest of the day. Sleeping bags had to be rolled and stuffed, tents had to be unpitched and bags had to be packed albeit efficiently. With a little guidance, all of us had become highly efficient at our morning activities during the course of the trek. Between finishing our chores and setting out on the trek, there would be a small briefing and the emphasis on continuously hydrating our bodies would be reinstated.

Daily briefing

By this time, everybody would be buzzing with nervous energy, raring to start on our daily journey through the unknown. Everyone had gradually gotten comfortable to walking at their own speeds, making clear divides between the fast paced and the slow. Every turning of the way would lead to a near picture perfect sight, every clearing in the forest warranted a picture to be taken. Our brain was finding it difficult to process the beauty and the vast spectrum of colours which nature was carelessly throwing at us. Soldiering on through the mountains, the sight of the campsite even at a fair distance would provide immediate relief to even the most hardened trekker among us.

Big Mountain, small campsite

Taking off your shoes after reaching the campsite and walking barefoot while carefully skirting the humungous amount of horse shit present in all places almost, the sensation of grass under the feet was one of the most relaxing and rewarding feelings experienced ever. The moment we would reach camp, our local Kashmiri helpers would get fresh nourishments for us all. A few light stretches, a few moments of light headed foolishness coming off the heady sense of euphoria and then we would all be given time to explore our new surroundings. Camping in the locations that we did, it is difficult to imagine ever being able to adjust in a tent located elsewhere.

Perfect mirror image at Sundersar lake

Waking up to the pristine beauty of snowcapped peaks, of the clouds playing hide and seek in our peripheral vision, of seeing lakes such clear and still that the reflection is absolutely identical to that of the actual image, Kashmir has spoilt us all. As a testament to the safety standards being followed, our oxygen levels were checked daily, in order to see the level of acclimatisation that our bodies had achieved. The oxygen readings were like mini exams, conducted daily and enjoyed by none of the students. After the readings were done and the students were admonished, we would have our dinner. It may have seemed early compared to our normal city life, but the timing fit in perfectly with the life at the mountains. The quality of food as well as the variety, at that altitude, was always excellent and kept everyone’s spirits high. Dinner was usually followed by the reluctance to leave the comfort of the dinner tent as well as the want to not miss out on the camaraderie. Slowly, one by one, people would begin to slip off to their tents in search of much earned rest until the last few people would be politely asked to sleep. The similar cycle would repeat every day, just that the sights and sounds would keep changing. But the beauty would never ever disappoint.

And the heavens descend upon us

Pausing only either to catch your breath or to gape open mouthed at the beauty surrounding us, each day had us walking different distances, on different types of terrain as well as make us ascend and descend. The beauty of the terrain was such that every day bought different challenges with it, whether it was the steep ascent to a pass, the gradual ascent on a hill or the long descent into the root laden forest. The weather too was instrumental in adding to the charm of the place, being as temperamental as a small kid spoilt for choice in a candy store, fluctuating every five minutes. By the time we would get ready for the imminent rainstorm, the sun would cheerfully burst out of the clouds and make us look like complete idiots for wearing raincoats and ponchos.

All ready for action!

The days were usually sunny and the nights would have us nice and cold, the wind adding to the chill effect. For an astronomically inclined person, every night would have been spent being sleepless. It seemed that every star visible to the naked human eye was out for us to see. The brightness of the moonlight was such that it removed the need to use torches after dark on a couple days. Lying down to sleep, after a satisfying day of honest hard work, the sound of the stream would act as white noise, lulling us to dream as comfortably as was possible.

The never ending streams

There were times when I would suddenly stop in my tracks and look back at the distances we covered and the paths we had treaded. It would seem almost unfathomable that gradually and painstakingly also at times, we had managed to cross mountains. The suddenness of the achievement would seem too much to handle at times and would soon be forgotten as well, for tougher paths lay ahead.

The smallness of man

Starting out at 7,500 ft. at Aru, we had reached the highest point of our trek at Tarsar Pass at approximately 13,100 ft. By rough estimations, we all had managed to cover a distance of 50 to 55 km on the complete trek. On a plain stretch of land that might have not seemed a lot of distance to cover in 6 days of walking, but on the mountains for a group of amateurs, it was a commendable effort; one we all congratulated each other for after we had reached the end point of our trek, Sumbal.
The drive back to Srinagar was short and somber, for reality was rearing its ugly head again and none of us wanted to acknowledge it. Promises of continued friendships were made, hasty goodbyes were said and the group parted its ways, each member carrying a part of the mountains in their hearts. I think the people may leave the mountains physically, but mentally the mountains shall never ever leave the people.

We made it!

“It is not the mountains we conquer, but ourselves” – Edmund Hillary