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The first 3kms from Buddhi to Gunji (third day of the climb), was a steep
stony climb to Chialak Pass. Being the beginning of the day, it was not as bad
as it could have been if it was towards the end. The walk from Chialak, was
pretty level. We were quite excited, when we passed an army bunker with jawans
sitting in it, and outside it. The ITBP had arranged tea for us along the way.
This lap was one of the most pleasant stretches of the trek. Grassy meadows of
grass and flowers. A Valley of Flowers! Next we came
upon a village called Garbhian. This village used to be the center of trade at
one time and is made up of a cluster of stone houses. Some of the yatris were
carrying earrings, necklaces and other trinkets, to distribute amongst the
village women and children, who were thrilled to receive them.
Another 2 hours of walking and the camp was visible on
the other side of the river. We thought we had reached. But, the road turns and
twists in such a way that Gunji (the next camp) was still far away! In most
places the village, if any, was always a little away from the camp, but here you
enter through the village. And that was nice, because this was a quaint village,
with cobbled streets! The houses are dark and have a little bit of carving.
Gunji was to be one of the favorite camps. One good thing was, it had a few taps
outside, and the sun was shining, so guess what most of us did? Washed our clothes and had a bath! This is also where you
have a final check up by the ITBP. So four o'clock onwards, saw the XIIIth batch
trooping to the doctor's office, armed with medical reports. Once again there
were smiles all around when everyone was given the Green Signal. And the reports
could now be packed away to be got out only at home!
Bags had to be packed again, because we had to get out the
winter wear and pack one lot to be left behind at the next stop, Kalapani. Never
did understand what caused the name of this place. Throughout the trip, there is
a lot of packing and re-packing done every second day. But many thanks to our
young porter, who taught us how to pack such, that we did not have to open our
big bag every day! Here I have to say a word about the porters on our Indian
side. We called them our shadows. They never left our side. My husband's porter
Navin, had also learnt to use the camera, and pack his ruck-sack every evening.
As for my Hariram, he was a quiet one. Sometimes when I thought he was not
around he appeared, hand extended, if I seemed like I might trip! When I was on
horseback, he kept pace, and towards the end of the trek, knew from my
expression that I was going to ask for water, so had it ready for me, before I
asked! We really have no words to express their devotion. I suppose they spoiled
us so much, that it made it difficult for us to get used to the diametrically
opposite attitude of the Chinese porters later!
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