"Madam, we promise we will return the rucksacks and the tent, with no damage, in time. It is just 4 days trip madam. No, madam, we don't have the money to keep as security, please please take our watches as collateral". That did the trick, it always worked. (Those were the times, when people still wore watches). We got the basic stuff from Thapar's Hiking and Mountaineering club. It helped that the teacher responsible for the club was our Psychology prof and we had decent image. We had to collect some more items, gloves, jackets and if possible, hiking shoes. We had a lot of friends in the hostel!
This was first of the three trips that we would eventually make on the same trek - Kandaghat to Chail. Patiala to Solan is 2.5 to 3 hours, by bus. By the time we reached Solan it was dinner time. Had stomach full at one of the dhabhas close to the bus stand. Took a local bus to kandaghat. A few hundred meters from the Kandaghat bus stop, a narrow track slopes down to the Ashwani Khad. To get to Chail, one has to go down, cross the Ashwani khad gorge and then back up the mountains on the other side. We waded thru' shoulder tall grass, with candle in a steel glass acting as a make shift torch. We got to the bottom of the gorge and tried to pitch the tent. After multiple failed attempts, we decided to spread it on the ground itself. Mulay and I went around to collect fire wood, while Mahajan got ready to make tea. Mahajan lit the fire and put the pot to boil. I found some mint smelling shrubs in the dark.Yeah! Mint flavored black tea! Mahajan tended to the chai while Mulay and I lit the left over cigar. Lying down on the spread out tent, watching the stars in the clear sky, it never felt so good. Chai got ready. Mahajan picked the pot from the fire to pour, spilled most of it. What the .... next few minutes, it was free for all, choicest expletives got exchanged. We drank what was left. It was cold, we slept in the spoon position, with blankets on. We were still cold, we took out all clothes, one by one, from shirt, towel to our underwear, from the rucksack and put on top of us.
Morning was crisp, white and bright. It was the sound of mule hoofs that woke us. Mules around us were drinking water from the stream close to where we are sleeping. The guy tending to the mules came over, asked us what we were doing. We sweet talked. We were always good at that! The guy offered us to come to his place for breakfast. We brushed, washed, packed, got ready for the breakfast. We went up the hill on a narrow track, reach a thatched roof house. We sat in the verandha, ate thick chappatis, took some pictures with the host, got directions for Chail, thanked the host and got on the way.
There was a stream to cross. Thankfully, we picked the right spot to cross over, remembering the proverb "still water runs deep". From here on it was climb up the hill. Mahajan in front, I in the middle and Mulay bringing up the rear. Frequently Mulay and I caught ourselves catching our breath and looking at Mahajan, climbing effortlessly in front of us. "Sala motor". It must have been close to 1pm, we were dead tired. We must have been walking for 4 hours. We rested under a tree, an almond tree, laden with fruit. Couple kids came and stood on the otherside of the track looking curiously at us. They were shy. We picked some almonds from the tree, gave to the kids. Kids took them and disappeared. A few minutes later kids returned. They had Khira in their hand, for us. The most delicious khira I ever had, juicy. We picked more almonds and gave to them. They again disappeared. A few minutes later kids came back, this time with a man in tow, their father. The guy gave us more Khiras. We chatted for a bit. We learned that the almond tree was also his! Oops! The man invited us for lunch. We politely declined. He insisted. Never to let go of the 2nd chance, we followed him down the hill. He had a thatched roof house, a veranda in front and stepped farm beyond that. One lady came out of the house, we bowed to her. The man told her to make some chapatis for us. She disappeared in the house. The man took us to his farm. Showed us what was growing, maze and turmeric. He insisted that we take some with us. We talked him out of it. Did not want to carry more weight. What would we have done with turmeric. Chappatis were ready. Muuuuah! Pure nectar. We gobbled 2 each in less time than it takes to say "chappati". With a remaining appetite for atleast 2 more each, I looked at Mulay, ah! ok, remaining appetite for 4 more, we told the host to stop. Our civility forced us to decline more. Before hunger could get better of the civility, we took some pictures, thanked profusely and left.
Up and down, up and down a few hills and we weren't sure if we were headed in the right direction. The track did not have mule shit! "Shit! not the right track". We spotted some huts down the narrow path. It was a 30 minute detour to get to those huts. It was getting dark. Before we reached the huts, we ran into this guy, who was leading a pack of mules out of the hutments. He offered to put us back on the right track to Chail. We could see the lights on the hill. A few more kilometers perhaps. Rucksack was feeling heavier, legs were wobbly. It felt as if the last few kilometers are going to kill me. Mulay was almost dead. Mahajan, sala motor! Finally, we could see the road. We got there and sat. Lit the left over of the left over cigar.
Walk on the road was not too steep. We were near the town now. Stopped this guy and asked him for the direction to the Gurudwara. Reached the Gurudwara, payed our respects and asked for shelter. Gurudwaras never refuse. We were allowed to stay in the main hall, on the first floor. We dumped our stuff and came out. Spotted this dhaba. Everything else became a blurr. Rajma, aloo gobhi and tandoori roti. The bestest ever Rajma and the crispest ever tandoori roti that I ever had. In an otherwise very focused event, where nothing came between us and the food in front of us, we only had one interruption when we exchanged expletives on Mulay dipping his finger in Rajma, every time he scooped it up with his roti. We lit remains of the cigar, Mahajan watched the smoke, too tired to talk. We went to the Gurudwara, spread our ground sheet and the tent on the floor. The moment we rested our head on the floor, we were asleep.
The guy must have yelled for a while before we woke up. Its was morning. We had our shoes inside the main Gurudwara hall. Shoot! We collected our stuff and were out in less than 5. On the side of the road was a hand-pump. Ladies filling water at the pump were curiously looking at us as we brushed, washed, and packed. A new day had started and we had to get to Shimla by evening...
This was first of the three trips that we would eventually make on the same trek - Kandaghat to Chail. Patiala to Solan is 2.5 to 3 hours, by bus. By the time we reached Solan it was dinner time. Had stomach full at one of the dhabhas close to the bus stand. Took a local bus to kandaghat. A few hundred meters from the Kandaghat bus stop, a narrow track slopes down to the Ashwani Khad. To get to Chail, one has to go down, cross the Ashwani khad gorge and then back up the mountains on the other side. We waded thru' shoulder tall grass, with candle in a steel glass acting as a make shift torch. We got to the bottom of the gorge and tried to pitch the tent. After multiple failed attempts, we decided to spread it on the ground itself. Mulay and I went around to collect fire wood, while Mahajan got ready to make tea. Mahajan lit the fire and put the pot to boil. I found some mint smelling shrubs in the dark.Yeah! Mint flavored black tea! Mahajan tended to the chai while Mulay and I lit the left over cigar. Lying down on the spread out tent, watching the stars in the clear sky, it never felt so good. Chai got ready. Mahajan picked the pot from the fire to pour, spilled most of it. What the .... next few minutes, it was free for all, choicest expletives got exchanged. We drank what was left. It was cold, we slept in the spoon position, with blankets on. We were still cold, we took out all clothes, one by one, from shirt, towel to our underwear, from the rucksack and put on top of us.
Morning was crisp, white and bright. It was the sound of mule hoofs that woke us. Mules around us were drinking water from the stream close to where we are sleeping. The guy tending to the mules came over, asked us what we were doing. We sweet talked. We were always good at that! The guy offered us to come to his place for breakfast. We brushed, washed, packed, got ready for the breakfast. We went up the hill on a narrow track, reach a thatched roof house. We sat in the verandha, ate thick chappatis, took some pictures with the host, got directions for Chail, thanked the host and got on the way.
There was a stream to cross. Thankfully, we picked the right spot to cross over, remembering the proverb "still water runs deep". From here on it was climb up the hill. Mahajan in front, I in the middle and Mulay bringing up the rear. Frequently Mulay and I caught ourselves catching our breath and looking at Mahajan, climbing effortlessly in front of us. "Sala motor". It must have been close to 1pm, we were dead tired. We must have been walking for 4 hours. We rested under a tree, an almond tree, laden with fruit. Couple kids came and stood on the otherside of the track looking curiously at us. They were shy. We picked some almonds from the tree, gave to the kids. Kids took them and disappeared. A few minutes later kids returned. They had Khira in their hand, for us. The most delicious khira I ever had, juicy. We picked more almonds and gave to them. They again disappeared. A few minutes later kids came back, this time with a man in tow, their father. The guy gave us more Khiras. We chatted for a bit. We learned that the almond tree was also his! Oops! The man invited us for lunch. We politely declined. He insisted. Never to let go of the 2nd chance, we followed him down the hill. He had a thatched roof house, a veranda in front and stepped farm beyond that. One lady came out of the house, we bowed to her. The man told her to make some chapatis for us. She disappeared in the house. The man took us to his farm. Showed us what was growing, maze and turmeric. He insisted that we take some with us. We talked him out of it. Did not want to carry more weight. What would we have done with turmeric. Chappatis were ready. Muuuuah! Pure nectar. We gobbled 2 each in less time than it takes to say "chappati". With a remaining appetite for atleast 2 more each, I looked at Mulay, ah! ok, remaining appetite for 4 more, we told the host to stop. Our civility forced us to decline more. Before hunger could get better of the civility, we took some pictures, thanked profusely and left.
Up and down, up and down a few hills and we weren't sure if we were headed in the right direction. The track did not have mule shit! "Shit! not the right track". We spotted some huts down the narrow path. It was a 30 minute detour to get to those huts. It was getting dark. Before we reached the huts, we ran into this guy, who was leading a pack of mules out of the hutments. He offered to put us back on the right track to Chail. We could see the lights on the hill. A few more kilometers perhaps. Rucksack was feeling heavier, legs were wobbly. It felt as if the last few kilometers are going to kill me. Mulay was almost dead. Mahajan, sala motor! Finally, we could see the road. We got there and sat. Lit the left over of the left over cigar.
Walk on the road was not too steep. We were near the town now. Stopped this guy and asked him for the direction to the Gurudwara. Reached the Gurudwara, payed our respects and asked for shelter. Gurudwaras never refuse. We were allowed to stay in the main hall, on the first floor. We dumped our stuff and came out. Spotted this dhaba. Everything else became a blurr. Rajma, aloo gobhi and tandoori roti. The bestest ever Rajma and the crispest ever tandoori roti that I ever had. In an otherwise very focused event, where nothing came between us and the food in front of us, we only had one interruption when we exchanged expletives on Mulay dipping his finger in Rajma, every time he scooped it up with his roti. We lit remains of the cigar, Mahajan watched the smoke, too tired to talk. We went to the Gurudwara, spread our ground sheet and the tent on the floor. The moment we rested our head on the floor, we were asleep.
The guy must have yelled for a while before we woke up. Its was morning. We had our shoes inside the main Gurudwara hall. Shoot! We collected our stuff and were out in less than 5. On the side of the road was a hand-pump. Ladies filling water at the pump were curiously looking at us as we brushed, washed, and packed. A new day had started and we had to get to Shimla by evening...
