Fast and Furious at Hampta Pass - Day 3

Read Part 1 of the series here
And Part 2 here

“Don’t even think of that”, I almost had to yell at Onkar who laughed gregariously as he entered the chilly glacial torrent. It was early afternoon and the melting ice turned it into a raging force impossible to withstand. There was a makeshift narrow pipe bridge some distance upstream. But Onkar felt particularly adventurous that day. Probably owing to the fact that we had just crossed the pass and got down in a very quick time. I reckoned it was impossible to ford the rage so strong, we had to shout at each other to be listened. A few tense yet funny moments ensued, where he pushed through a few uncertain steps, balancing the shoes, the bag and the trekking pole. After a scintillating Nataraja pose in the middle of the ice cold stream that lasted a mere few seconds, Onkar finally gave up. We moved upstream to use the eerie looking makeshift bridge. And thus the glacial torrent coming down from the mighty Indrasan was crossed at Shea Goru!

The scary looking bridge at Shea Goru

It rained lightly as we got up with the first rays of the sun that day. Flanked on two sides by huge rock walls and on another by the ridge of Hampta Pass, our cozy little camp site of Ratan Thoy bathed in the tangerine hue of the rising sun looked coy as ever. Yet, as we packed up and got going by about 7, the clouds had gathered and smeared the azure sky that panned the vista just moments ago. Although they looked harmlessly snow white, the possibility of early afternoon showers could never be ignored. We wanted to reach Chhatru as soon as possible to be able to catch any conveyance back to Manali the same day.

A little after Ratan Thoy, starting the day. The route from here circuits to the left and winds up through the narrow gully between the cliff and the ridge as seen here

I felt just fine and was relieved that my back pain was just an aberrance. We moved swiftly, circumventing the black ice from the Hampta glacier that was almost completely molten. The climb from here on was pretty steep and through umpteen gigantic boulders stacked on the top of each other. The going was strenuous but our acclimatization at about 5200m on the earlier trip to Mt. Yunam served us very well to negotiate the terrain and keep up the pace while carrying the heavy sacks. All the while the Dhauladhars loomed in the background and the biggest of them Hanuman Tibba, topping out at 5932m, struck an inviting pose. Project noted for time to come.

View of Dhauladhars looking back from the route. Notice the black ice which is just giving way. The glacier had melted almost completely

Hanuman Tibba (5932m) standing tall among the Dhauladhars

Onkar and I were separated by some distance because of taking different routes to the top. I tried taking the route I could see straight up and started climbing those rocks alone. A slightly chilly wind blew up and more than once I felt a snowflake landing on my face but poof it went before I could find a proof. The going was enjoyable and a fuzzy feeling of elation just engulfed me. It was 8 am on a glorious Thursday morning and I was out in the mountains doing what I loved the best. Imagine my alter life in city where I could have been sitting in a cab dragging myself to the everyday drudgery of a regular office day. There would be roaring traffic around. People honking and getting mad at each other. Maybe a driver would peek his mouth out of the window and spit the paan before getting back to the honking.

It was silence here. Not a sound. Not a hiss, not even a whiff. Nothing. All I heard was my own breathing and the rustling of my backpack. It was just I, and the mountain. All I wanted that moment was to take the next step and get across the next rock. Sucking in the crisp yet rare mountain air, one breathful at a time, just feeling wonderful in the incredulously beautiful place and situation I was in, thanked my fortunes for getting me here. I was in a sheer state of bliss and moved up the steep boulder lined gully at a decent pace occasionally connecting with Onkar via whistles.

Nearing the top of the pass.

After just about two hours of non stop climbing, we reached the top almost simultaneously. He looked weary, but we couldn’t have been happier. Two of the most wonderful hours of our lives had culminated into the enchantingly beautiful top of the Hampta Pass. This was freedom for me. This feeling was why I came here. Again, I had that heady sense of invincibility at the top. I had expected it after experiencing it for the first time in the last season when I had topped out Mt. Kanamo in Spiti. In my opinion, a feeling of infallibility is really a tricky thing. A little less and you might not be able to take risks and achieve what you came for. On the other hand too much of it would make you take stupid decisions. It's just like slack-lining, a tough balance. But at that moment, rather than letting go of it, I just closed my eyes and let it soak in while resting as Onkar took a little time out for himself.

Onkar at the top of Hampta Pass with a magnificient view

Notably, the trail here turns to left which brings one down to the Shea Goru campsite. But inexplicably and in the hindsight, rather surprisingly, we went straight up and tried to find a route from the right, which of course was never to be. After wasting about an hour scrambling through the rocks on the top of the Hampta Pass, we finally found the right way and started going down the valley looking over our shoulders time and again to check if the clouds shrouding Indrasan had cleared.  It’s a beautiful mountain standing high at 6221m at the eastern end of the Pir Panjal range. The grand view of its magnificent north face and the snow dome of the adjoining Deo Tibba (6001m) was one of the perks of Hampta Pass and the weather seemed to deny us of that.

North face of Indrasan (6221m) shrouded in clouds

Closer view of the lower half of the North face of Indrasan. Notice the umpteen icefalls and seracs that guard it!

The route down from the pass is incredibly steep and one must be really sure footed to be able to get down quickly. It is a continuously winding downward trek traversing a sharply angled slope. I still can’t believe how fast we moved on our way down almost as if our backsides were on fire. We had wasted a lot of time on the top and almost denied ourselves any possibility of finding a ride back at Chhatru as almost everybody wishes to cross the Rohtang pass before dusk. But we had to take our chances. We just went on and on without stopping even as much for water, of which we had little left now. The later half of the descent features a moderately angled scree slope getting down to Shea Goru campsite at the end. This is where YHAI and other trekking companies have a camp for the participants getting down from the pass. And here was where we had the aforementioned hair-raising river fording adventure.

Breathtaking view of the valley from the top of the Hampta Pass. Notice the stream coming down from Indrasan in the middle. With enough zoom you can see the tents at Shea Goru

But yet again, no mountain story lacks in any sort of adventure, does it? I nursed a rumbling stomach that day and finally my body gave way at Shea Goru. No sooner had I unloaded the rucksack from my back, I unloaded a lot of other stuff too from my stomach right through my mouth. I had expected it for some time now and instantly a feeling of weakness engulfed me. But I had been through this earlier as well, both at Kanamo and Yunam and also during training. As they say, experience is the best teacher! I knew what exactly was happening to my body, how much more could it take and how long could I go before giving up and how could I push and pace myself to outdo that. It was all in the mind. It was that rare feeling when you are one with yourself and know exactly what you are doing and what you need to do. I bet if you get that feeling sitting in an office chair! It's the magic of the mountains!

After crossing the stream the going was pretty easy. Vast easy angled slopes leading down to the Chandra valley. Occasionally there came a sharp bend or steep contour on the way, but generally one could trek down very fast. The beauty of the descent lay in the miles and miles of the valley painted red by the unending carpets of Sheep Sorrel. A path cut through these omnipresent carmine pastures inadvertently makes you feel like walking on red velvet! It was overwhelming and more than once we rested on the boulders lining the path even when we didn’t need to, just to soak in the soul fulfilling place we were at. The entire route went skirting a deep gorge that echoed with the thumping sound of the ice-cold torrent that just got bigger as we moved along. Here we came across a few porters carrying heavy camping supplies, including thick foam mattresses! And expectedly, a little ahead we met the Indian Glaciology scientists whom these were meant for. They were to camp at the base of Indrasan for a while to study the glacier and take samples to analyze. What a fascinating life!

Sheep Sorrel lined pathway. Notice Onkar resting on an uneven boulder.

Fantastic vista on the way down

Fairly comfortable walk through the meadows to reach the end of the valley where it joins Chandra

Another hour and a half of continuous walking led us down to the wide Chandra valley where we turned eastwards to Chhatru along the true left bank of the Chandra river.  This area is a known heaven for boulderers several people camp here in the season to solve their problems. Another couple of kilometers through the boulder strewn valley, which we covered hopping and skipping in elation, finally give way to the iconic bridge on the Chandra river which brought back memories from a year back when I was here on the way to Mt. Kanamo in Spiti. That time I had stumbled upon a few trekkers coming down from Hampta pass and was enlightened about its history by a Spitian gentleman whom I was travelling with. Then and there I had resolved to do it very soon, and here I was, just back from that endeavour. Both these times, I had been successful on the adventures. Maybe Chhatru is what is lucky for me. Again, I clicked the smooth and steep granite flanks of several towering peaks that lined the valley and which I had fallen in love with last year. They are just so beautiful. I hope I can make myself able to climb these lovely rock slabs someday soon.

Reaching the Chandra valley. Chandra river flows below in full power. Notice the porter coming up.

Walking beside the Chandra river to Chhatru

At Chhatru, marvelling at the rock faces.

As we rolled into the dhaba at Chhatru, again I had the feeling of nothingness that I experience once an adventure is over. Apparently, I should be happy, proud, elated and over the moon. But I just feel nothing, almost aloofness with the surroundings. I have often wondered about it but could never figure the source or reason behind it. Maybe it’s because the days of fun are over or maybe I am just humbled with what I had undergone for the past few days. Maybe it's the journey that matters, and the goal is immaterial. Nevertheless, I do mean to say that we were super happy as Onkar and I shook hands and congratulated each other for our first successful trek together. We waited for some godsend angel who could haul us back to Manali (where a dinner of Trout and beer awaited us at the Blue Moon Café!!). After a couple of humans, the angel came but the ride back was more akin to one through hell than heaven as we clung on to our lives with our hearts in the mouth. But that’s a story for another time.

And that folks, is how we crossed the Hampta Pass.

Fast and Furious at Hampta Pass - Day 2

Read here about the Day 1 story

The second day started abominably. Although the weather was clear as crystal, we missed both the sunrise and our planned alpine start by getting out of the sleeping bags at 8am. Too late by Himalayan standards. By the time we wound up our tent and got moving, it was 9 already. The sun was shining bright and the Hampta/Rani nullah gurgled gleefully through the wide, open valley carpeted by viridescent post monsoon pastures dotted with flocks of gaddi sheep. Many sheep on the way obliged us by posing for the photographs taking time out from the grazing business. We, the guests here, were floored with the humility!

We picked up our sacks and got going. The valley was wide and the rivulet broke into several streams turning the valley floor into nothing more than a marsh. Onkar took the more direct and straightforward route through the middle of the bed of the nullah and instantly regretted it, with his shoes sinking to the ankle in mud. I, on the other hand, moved more cautiously along the true right bank of the stream and kept going up and down the undulating terrain gently rising from about 3600m at Baloo ka Gera to 3900m till the base of the pass where it steepened up till 4300m to the pass.

Crisp morning at BKG looking towards the pass

But, the happiness of being in such pristine surroundings, listening to the sounds of the heaven and working our way towards the goal, was short lived. Few moments of bliss bless us here and there and never seem to last longer. But isn't that why we go on an adventure, for those few moments of bliss!

We were about an hour and a half into the route when it started. My back started hurting like hell and I just couldn’t move. As I saw Onkar march past into oblivion, I was left walking at a snail’s pace. The heavy backpack I carried offered no respite and I used all tricks to reduce the weight but to no avail. I wore the full array of my warm clothes all up to the heavy, warm and rainproof jacket I had. Big mistake carrying that jacket though. To add to the woes, it started drizzling continuously with an occasional sleet shower. While the rain just got stronger, my back just wouldn’t stop hurting. The pain was unbearable and over-enthusiasm of last day combined with a back injury I had sustained more than a decade ago apparently aggravated the pain in my upper back. And yet, I resolved to walk through the pain, at least for a short while to see if it subsided once I warmed up sufficiently.

Taking umpteen rest breaks, I kept moving slowly while Onkar and I communicated through whistles and shouting. I did not lose sight of him since I was walking a little higher up on the bank but the distance between us just kept increasing and more than once he had to stop and wait for me, for long. All this while I struggled through other problems like fogging of my specs, profuse sweating because I wore all the warm clothes and the constant risk of slipping because of the muddy and rocky terrain coupled with my poor sphere of vision owing to the bags hanging on both sides of my body. The rain was relentless in its pounding now. It is these practical problems in climbing and trekking that you learn so closely about when you decide to venture into an adventure yourself, go where you’ve never been to and do what you’ve never done before. And topping these every time you go to a new adventure or take up a new challenge in the mountains pushes you to outdo yourself and test your limits every single time. That’s why we go to the mountains time and time again!

Lots of Gaddi sheep dotted the verdant pastures

Did you hear the news? The dogs are dead!

Right then, I felt the universe was conspiring against me to not allow us to finish the trek today as planned. I had trained pretty hard for this trip and the several uphill kilometers I regularly walked with 20kg load on my back just flashed back through my head. They seemingly meant nothing compared to the tough challenges a very moderate trek dished us with. It’s, indeed, always further than it looks, higher than it looks and more difficult than it looks. The objective seemed far and my strength seemed to diminish rapidly. I just couldn’t fathom why this happened and after reaching Ratan Thoy, a small, flat camping area only a few kilometers from BKG, with enough space for 4-5 tents, I just had to throw in the towel.

Onkar asked grimly if it was at all possible to go on but I just couldn’t. The pass was still some distance away, at least a couple of hours, and the climb from here was very steep straight up. Add to that the very long downhill walk to Chhatru, I thought it was just impossible to finish it today at this speed. There was even a danger of getting stranded somewhere in between. We stumbled upon a few Gaddi shepherds camped here, whom I could most definitely feel sniggering at the weary selves that we presented. As a last straw of hope, we tried to convince them to help us carry our packs on their mules, since they planned to cross the pass soon. Unsurprisingly, they asked for a fortune and rather prudently, we did not give in and decided to camp there for the night. Even they would not to be able to go anywhere that day! It was about 4000m and the valley had narrowed down considerably. The site was just above the head of the glacier and, as we discovered the next day, right at the base of the pass. A small steady stream flew nearby that served as our water source. I was so weary that I didn't even click any pictures that day, just resigned to my fate. (maybe that's why I'm putting up this morning picture again!)

Ratan Thoy is near the ice patch seen in the middle

It was a couple of hours past noon and the drizzle had turned into heavy rain by now, as it often does in the afternoons in mountains. I hastily unpacked the tent and put it up, rather shabbily, while Onkar arranged some water. It was extremely disappointing not to be able to do what we came for but as I said earlier, one can only do things they are physically fit enough to do. I decided to postpone any other activity and just lay down inside my sleeping bag, trying to put my aching back to rest. After a while of twisting and turning inside the most lavish of beds one could muster at this altitude, I could manage to sleep for a couple of hours while Onkar took care of the goings on in the tent, namely cooking and unpacking.

I woke up to the heavy downpour that had been beating continuously and had, in fact, leaked inside. I really did do a shoddy job at pitching the tent. We had small puddles of rainwater inside the tent and were quick to shift the blame to “Karan Garments”, the trekking equipment shop in Manali that had apparently sold us a leaky tent, although in reality, however, it had more to do with the loose pegs and strings than anything else.

After a hearty meal of, what else, noodle soup of course, we drifted away to sleep after covering ourselves and our stuff with our ponchos, bought at a hefty premium in Manali. All the while I found it fascinating how all the jobs in the world could be done while lying inside a tent, not even getting up. A practice quite religiously followed by Onkar and I on our adventures.

 The day hadn’t turned out to be as expected and we could only take lessons from it and plan to move forward. We didn’t really have a long way to go next day, or so we thought, yet decided to move out as soon as possible in the morning, provided the rains stop during the night.

The next day turned out to be quite wonderful and full of adventure and the trail ahead was pleasing yet challenging and we were definitely up for the challenge. More about the last day in the next post.

Part 3 of the series is here.

Fast and Furious at Hampta Pass - Day 1

Crazy as it may sound, Onkar and I had a dubious record. We had never been a successful team, unless you count the trundle up to Triund which, as a matter of fact, had left us breathless at the end of it. Those were our really super naïve days in the mountains, not that we are any smarter, we’ve just learnt to respect them. So coming back to our failures, we had never been able to do a successful endeavour together. Weather thwarted us at Nag Tibba and Yunam, but more importantly, I reckon it was because you only get to do the stuff that you’re physically fit enough to do.

Mt Yunam (6110m) the failed objective (pic by Onkar Munje)

So after a long wait at Bharatpur tent colony in Lahaul where the weather gods decided to deny us of a shot at our first 6000er, we hitched an oil tanker for the way back and immediately got thinking. What next? We had a week’s vacation left but the late monsoon rains on the greener side of Rohtang left us with a dearth of projects. Onkar was really keen on crossing the Sara Umga pass for his first foray into the mighty beautiful Chandra valley. I, to my own surprise, played the devil’s advocate and argued about the unpredictable weather in the northern reaches of the Kullu Lahaul divide and our lack of preparations.

Finally we decided to cross the Hampta Pass, a presumably moderate trek based on online opinions. We did some quick research, printed some maps, talked to a few people and after a sumptuous dinner at the Blue Moon Café in Old Manali which, by the way, had a live reggae band playing that night, we were ready to take on the pass which the locals of Lahaul and Spiti regularly crossed in the days of yore to get to the greener pastures of the south.

Hampta Pass Trek route

It was late August and although no heavy rains were forecast for the next couple of days, we knew that weather above 4000m could never be dependable. Despite having about 4 days we could use to do the trek, it was prudent to minimize the risk and move as fast and light as possible and try to get it done in two days. Yes, you read that right. Hampta Pass in two days, that was our plan. And we were confident we could manage that. It would need us to be extremely nimble, but it was possible.

So with that thought in mind, and 15 kg sacks on each of our backs we reached Jobra, after crossing the 42 or so hairpin bends in the road, at about 10am. Little did we know there were so many lessons in store for us on this trip that would humble us to a pulp, show us how insignificant humans were in the nature.

Brothers in Arms at the start of the trek at Jobra

Some coffee, biscuits and a selfie later, we started to walk through the easy terrain through the jungle which had a clear track and a lot of horse shit on the way to guide us. There were humongous pine trees all around us and the trail was gradually ascending. A short while of walking led us to a wide opening in the valley which the rani nullah divided into two. This huge area is pastured and one could spot several herds of sheep and harrases grazing. There is small tea shop at this point post which a makeshift bridge helps one cross the stream towards the true right bank which is then to be followed to the end. This particular meadow, about a couple of kilometres long, is called Jwara and at the end of it is Chikka, used as the first camping point for a few trekking companies. The altitude gradually rose from about 2800m at the start to about 3000m till this point. We took a short break here which gave us an excellent photo op that was used to capture the subliminally green pastures in the valley and a couple of waterfalls around.

Looking towards the vast stretch of the Jwara meadow. At the end of this is Chikka, a camping spot.

Looking back at our route through Jwara meadow. Onkar is thinking about the Trout fish he had the last night at Blue Moon cafe and the one he'll have after the trek. The Dhauladhars stand tall in the distance. With enough zoom, you can see the yellow hut in the centre at the end that serves as a tea shop.

One of the several beautiful waterfalls on the way

The trail becomes a little bit steeper hereon and the valley consistently rose towards north east till about 3400m where it turns eastward at Chikka and opens into some of the most beautiful mountain vistas we had yet seen. It was an sea of green around us with the treeline steadily receding and the vegetation changing from huge pine and deodar trees to a lot of flower bushes and shrubs which lined the trail while the gurgling stream hurtled through the valley. The overlooking precipitous mountain walls echoed the sound to create an amphitheatric ambience that one only has to be there to experience.

Looking back at the trail a short while after leaving Chikka. It is a bit exposed route here. Notice the receding treeline

It was about lunch time and I had a fortuitously strong day in the mountains (yes, the great leveling story of day 2 comes later). Moving fast and consistent, we decided not to stop for lunch since the camp site in the pastures of Chikka was only a short walk away. Chikka is a beautiful square meadow which serves as the camp site for the first or second camp of various trekking companies conducting this trek. There were so many tents here, obviously the amount of horseshit on the way was very well justified. Resting here for a few minutes, we munched on a few energy bars and filled up our water bottles. The tea shop owners here were drying fresh meat in the bright afternoon sun and we could only imagine the feast other trekkers would get for their dinner. Onkar and I silently brooded about our supplies of noodle soup and condensed milk. Didn't talk much, but we knew what the other was thinking about. Salivating much, we marched on and moved eastwards. Our target for the day was reaching as far as possible and camp at a place which could give us a headstart for the next day, which obviously was going to be tenaciously long.

A little after Chikka, looking back. Notice the clear weather.

But what is a mountain walk if not for some entertainment on the way. I was leading the trail with Onkar following closely. As I looked over my shoulder to catch a sight of him, I was swept off my feet by witnessing a divine dance of shadows and clouds that had gathered in the valley and moved up very fast. Although the weather held on, the possibility of rain or even a sleet shower pushed us to walk faster and reach a reasonable campsite before we get drenched. But again, the mountains dish you with the unexpected at every turn of the way. There were several stream crossings that slowed us down considerably. A particular one of these was pretty deep and it was an exhilarating experience fording the raging rivulet while holding our shoes in one hand and a trekking pole in the other. The heavy backpack threw us off balance all the while. Crazy shit I tell you! Fortunately, both of survived the scare of slipping and getting washed away, before it actually happened later in the much safer confines of our tent. More about that on day 2! We clicked a few pictures here underlining the accomplishment of crossing the swollen stream. Ah! The little pleasures of life.

Clouds gathering en route without warning! This photo was taken within ten minutes of the last one!

That's how they roll!

Another hour of walking led us to Baloo ka Gera, a wide valley with rocks the size of small pebbles to boulders strewn all over, hence the name. It was a wide clearing that had several ideal campsites, though most of these, of course, were already occupied by the permanent tents of the trekking companies. The place was bustling like a rain forest in monsoon. Particularly, humans of the fairer sex could be found on the top of boulders, in (yes, in) the stream, caressing the flowers, kissing the grass and jumping in the air most probably in attempts to get post-worthy pictures for the several hundred instagram followers they had. The boys were clicking the pictures of course. Bemusedly, we decided to camp here since the next suitable camping spot at Ratan Thoy was still a few kilometres away and it was already dusk. We had reached Baloo ka Gera from Jobra in a little under five hours, which was commendable for our measly souls, given the weight we were carrying. Several trekkers swarmed us like bees to a comb and were left wonder-eyed upon learning that it was just the two of us carrying our own sacs, looking for an adventure. Most of them had had their bags carried by the ponies/mules and that again drew me back to the eerie smell around.

Views from Baloo ka Gera towards the Hampta Pass

This place had a breathtaking view towards the pass and one could clearly make out the way. It was cloudy as we reached there and while we had the customary argument about who would put up the tent, the sky cleared and we were treated to some of the most stunning mountain vistas. The valley was flanked on two sides by vertical rock walls and at the end stood a majestic snow-capped crown bathed in the golden hue of the receding evening sun. After putting up the tent and unpacking our stuff, I spent the evening lying on a huge boulder and soaking in the ephemeral beauty of the wondrous surroundings.

Baloo ka Gera Camp site. Notice our odd looking little tent in orange

The clouds clear and scintillating views reveal

Flora at Baloo ka Gera

The evening wound up with Onkar cooking us, for the lack of a better word, some noodle soup and we munched on the condensed milk for dessert. Resolving to make an alpine start the next day, we wandered happily into a sleep sweetened with the tiredness of the long day. Story of Day 2 in next post. Adios!


Go here for the Day 2 story

Frozen to the nails at Nag Tibba - Why do we even do it?

In the fading winter days of February, as the days became longer and life started to return to the mountains, the urge to go back overpowered me. It had been three long months and I could wait no more! A friend and I made a spontaneous plan to start the season with a short, yet extremely picturesque, trek to the Nag Tibba peak in the Garhwal Himalayas of Uttarakhand in India. We started from Pantwari, where we reached after a short taxi ride from Dehradun, intending to camp overnight at the base camp and summit the next day. The day, however, was never to be.

As we peeked out of the tent on the freezing morning, we could make out the ominously dark clouds, only by a poetic golden lining lit up by the orange hued rays of the morning sun. The summit looked difficult. The absence of absolutely anybody on the mountain that night did not make the situation any more comforting. Little did we know that let alone the summit, our survival itself would be put on stake in the next twenty four hours. At about ten o' clock in the malarial morning which reminded us of the overcast British weather on the first day of a Headingley test (why always??), we called off the attempt with a heavy heart.

While we wound up the tent to roll back into the civilisation, the first flakes of snow landed on our unsuspecting faces and within a few minutes we were caught in an abominable blizzard. There was no time to run or hide. We were right in the middle of a unrelenting snowstorm and failing help, could hardly expect to live through it.

A shelter built on the top of the cliff by the forest department served as a heavenly refuge and the fire that we lit there helped us endure the cold for the whole day and night as the temperatures plummeted to a several degrees below zero with the howling wind blowing snowflakes in through slits in the windows and doors.

These photos were taken at about four in the evening on that day when there was a lull in the storm.

Mist and clouds surrounded the mountain from all sides. The freshly fallen snow lay like a carpet of white covering all and sundry with its ephemeral beauty and bringing an inexplicable mysticism to the place. As the trees were white-kissed and the green leaves formed a cushion for the snow, the entire landscape turned into tiny white beds floating in the air and fit only for the fairy angels of the heaven.

And while we remained swept off our feet and dumbfounded in the mind by the view, the clouds parted in our hearts and we realised, if there was ever a reason why we leave the world and come back to the secluded shelters of the mountains again and again and again, it was this.