Trekking to Chattru (Hamta Pass)

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3'rd August

Day 1
We were at the trekking agency at 8:30am, after having had a quick breakfast at the German bakery. We met Chotu, our stocky Indian guide of Nepalese origin, as well as Stan and Sophie, the two Dutch students that were trekking with us. After a 15 min drive to Prini, where we would begin, we were joined by the horses and the other men - Pritam, the cook, Ratan, the horse-man and Tilak and Romish the 2 helpers, along with enormous amounts of camping equipment and supplies. We packed the lunch boxes that we were each given into our day packs, applied our sun cream and with a great sense of excitement, had started walking by 10:00, leaving the 4 men loading the horses with all the equipment and supplies.
It was a steep uphill for 2,5 hours, mostly on steep steps, and we all found it a pretty exhausting start. We arrived for lunch at a sweet little tea house, with the mama cooking on the floor in the corner of their one room. She served us all a welcome chai (Jacqui, myself and Fia starting to get a taste for this sweet milky drink) and we then ate our cheese roll and other bits from our lunch box in glorious sunshine and already with beautiful views of the mountains. A bird with a huge wingspan, that Chotu informed us was a vulture, gracefully glided across our view causing a lot of camera fumbling and missed photos.
The afternoon Walk was initially through an uinteresting area in which a dam was being constructed, but then on a barely defined path through increasingy beautiful mountain scenery, to arrive finally at Chikha, the camp site, at around 4:30. It was less demanding than the morning and Fia and Tamsin, having found a captive audience other than Mummy and Daddy, let their conversational flood gates open, latching alternately onto Chotu, exploiting his gentle, caring manner with children, and to Stan and Sophie - who displayed immense patience and goodwill, but had probably not expected this kind of endurance test on their trek.
We were camped in the most beautiful spot in the valley with the river runing below us, breathtaking views both up and down the valley, and up the steep sides of the valley to majestic mountains, with patches of remaining snow dotted around us, and snow capped peaks in the distance. The weather had been hot all day, and we sat with the chai and biscuits that were brought out to us, relaxing and soaking in this wondeful wilderness. We had climbed 800m (1900 up to 2700m) that day and been going for about 6,5 hours - the girls had had a few complaints but basicaly managed to keep up well, sustained by a little glucose enhanced water solution at the low moments.
Ratan, the horse-man, together with his five horses and all the equipment would set off in the morning after us, but always overtake us at some point during the day, allowing for the team to set everything up in advance of our arrival. The horses would then be left loose to graze and roam where they wanted, but miraculously could be recuperated in the morning for their next day of work. Ratan was an experienced horseman, and his smiling weathered face revealed the years of his mountain life. He let Fia climb up on a horse, and told her all their names. His confident and engaging manner allowed you to somehow have a conversation with him, though he didn't have a word of English.
We had some spare time (what luxury) before dinner would be served and I sat on a rock, opened up the laptop and started writing up the blog notes, while the girls wrote their diaries and Jacqui continued her rapid digestion of "Passage to India". Jacqui and I thought back to our trekking / camping in the Pyrenees with our beloved donkeys, when from dawn to dusk we never seemed to have a moment spare - hurried walking to get to our target, unloading everything, setting up the tent, beginning the cooking, looking after the donkeys, and then all over again in the morning before we could start walking. This, by comparison was luxury camping - to have our tents set up on arrival, to be able to sit in the sun and read a book with a cup of chai after our long walk, until we were called for the soup course of our dinner was.... bliss.
It was a coriander and mushroom soup - served al fresco. Everyone mopped it up, even the girls, who previously were prepared to go to war to avoid eating a single mushroom. After the soup course we were invited into the big tent where the candlelit table was laid out - the metal boxes used to transport food doubling up as tables while we sat on the floor behind them. The cook co-ordinated all the work but all the men seemed to contribute to the dinner, cooked on the floor in front of us with two kerosene burners. All 11 of us were in this tent, the 6 of us and Chotu sitting behind our tables like royalty being served and the other 4 men squatting down rolling out chapatis, serving dahl, and rushing out every now and then to wash up something in the freezing cold source close to the tent, or just smiling at us and our vain but enjoyable attempts to make conversation with a common vocabularly of around 10 words.
Tamsin put Stan and Sophie under the spotlight by boldly, persistently and publicly investigating potential marriage plans.
We went to bed straight after dinner (I think at around 9:00 - 9:30). We used the children as our excuse for the early night, but in reality were exhausted and dying to get into those puffy warm sleeping bags, and we heard Stan and Sophie, with no excuses to offer, following straight afterwards.
Everyone was on good form. The girls were buzzing with excitement over having a tent to themselves, and as they zipped up the door, were giggling away with their torch and who knows what amusing and imaginative games.

4'th August
Day 2
Chai was served to the tents at 7:30 (though I was already up at 6:00) Everyone had slept reasonably well. We set off at 9:30, again leaving tents for the men to pack up and load on the horses.
It was a beautiful trek up the river valley virtually the whole day, with a steady constant ascent and an enjoyable rocky terrain. It was much colder though, and at around mid-day started raining.
We had several rickety and roughly improvised bridges to cross, but at one point, we had to wade through a freezing and fast running stream, taking off our boots and socks, rolling up our shorts and feeling our way across, resisting the strong current of the river. The girls went on Chotu's back while Jacqui and I, Stan and Sophie followed one at a time, all wearing Stans Teva sandals, the only ones available, which had to be thrown back over each time for the next person. We stopped for lunch on the other side of the river, and ate in the rain, dressed in our waterproofs. The conversation was certainly a little less sprightly than it had been the previous sunny day, though we were still getting a kick out of the ruggedness of it all. As clouds enveloped us though, the temperature suddenly dropped and we all became very cold - lunch lost its interest and was hurriedly stuffed away so that we could get moving again and warm up.
We arrived at camp at Juara (altitude of approx 3400m), the foot of the Hamta Pass, at around 4:30 - it had stopped raining, but was still cold and we had tea in the tent, and then an over-the-top snack of pakoras (battered vegatables) and a bowl of noodles. Exhausted, Jacqui and I went to rest - I snoozed virtually until dinner time, and Jacqui read. Our more energetic daughters were in the big tent with Prittam (the cook) and the others - we're not sure who was entertaining who but there was a lot of singing and giggling.
Both of the girls were up sick in the middle of the night - we asked them if there were any headaches (to understand whether it was altitude related or not) but the answers were not very conclusive, and we decided to wake up Chotu to get his opinion. Both girls felt better after having been sick, slept the rest of the night without problems and woke up on good form again - so we concluded it was just a stomach upset.
While I was up, in the pitch darkness, I saw two bright eyes dashing around at a distance from our camp site - it was most likely a jackal, I was told, hoping to pick up some easy dinner.

Day 3
5'th August
This was the big day, where we would cross the Hamta Pass at 4270m. It was thankfully sunny and warm when We set off at 9:00 on an exhilarating trek up the valley. The climb included our largest glacier - for about 45 minutes we were trudging up snow, hard, but a little slippery.
The sight of vultures had become frequent, but on this day we also sighted two eagles, soaring over our heads and then gracefully on down the valley.
Having been going well Tamsin started complaining at 11:00 of feeling a bit sick. We gave her some glucose solution but she was needing to stop more and more frequently. Chotu, having wisely sensed earlier that we may need some extra help that day had asked the other helpers to wait for us at a certain point in case of need, and as Tamsin was not improving, Tilak was there to take Chotu's backpack and Tamsin went on Chotu's back. Each time we stopped however, Tamsin was getting more morose and only 25 minutes away from crossing the pass, she was very reluctant to continue. In the cold everyone took the opportunity to eat their lunch while we waited to see if Tamsin would improve. Tilak was amazing - aside from his strength at carrying anything loaded on top of him, holding Fia's hand and walking faster than any of us in his flip-flops, he could also sit there in his T-shirt in the freezing cold, refusing any additional clothing while we were all wrapped up in fleeces and coats. Tamsin stayed cuddled to mummy and wasn't really improving - she was sure she was going to be sick (which probably would have made her feel better) but wasn't. By this stage we were all sure it was altitude sickness and knew we had to go down. I had some horror stories in my head about altitude sickness and had started to envision alternatives to going ahead over the pass, but in truth, there weren't many, and after pulling Chotu out of ear shot of Tamsin, managed to reassure myself that the risks at our height and given our acclimatisation were limited - so between us all we decided to push on to the pass, having to use all our resourcefullness to persuade Tamsin back up onto Chotu's shoulders.
The Hamta pass gave us an amazing feeling, and in particular because we were now exposed to an immense and stunningly beautiful valley in front of us - steep rugged mountains rising up as far as we could see, snow-capped peaks and glaciers, and a wide green valley floor stretching out on both sides - it felt like we'd opened the secret door to a new world.
Tamsin was neither better nor worse at the pass, and we didn't linger before starting our steep rocky descent. How Chotu managed to dance his way across boulders with a 7 year old on his back we have no idea. After about an hour we were on the valley floor, and Tamsin, who had fallen asleep on Chotu's shoulders, woke up, and came down for a rest. As soon as she was on her feet, she was sick. Chotu, Jacqui and I waited anxiously around her. She lifted her head, gave a smile and said:
'All that time I was on Chotu's shoulders I wasn't sick, and as soon as I got down I was sick'.
It was the first sign of the real Tamsin since she had started to feel weak on the other side of the Hamta Pass, and Chotu, Jacqui and myself all collapsed in uncontrollable, and unexplainable giggles - I think more from relief than anything else. The transformation was incredible - Tamsin, then danced the rest of the way along the valley to the camp, with conversation bubbling and jumping between random subjects, trying to make up for her lost time. It was hard to believe that we were all so worried about her just one hour before.
Fia had walked the whole day (and in fact the whole 4 days) without help, at a pace that challenged Jacqui and myself, climbing up and down rocks that were half her size, and hardly pausing from her cheerful chat, despite the attention that her sister was getting. Her energy and strength amazed us.
We were once again camped in the most hauntingly beautiful spot, in a place called Shiagorou, next to a river which snaked its way up this dramatic green valley, with glacier tongues clinging onto the sides of the near vertical slopes, abundant cascading waterfalls and all set against the backdrop of snow capped peaks.
Tamsin again lost her appetite at dinner time and started to feel unwell again - our diagnosis conclusion had switched from altitude sickness to plain stomach upset by now. It was cold in the evening and we all squeezed into the main tent for dinner, with Tamsin curled up against mummy in one corner, whimpering and miserable. The rest of us made polite conversation, but were all keeping a watchful eye on Tamsin and hoping she would pick up. The mood was broken, when Ratan, the horseman, squatting in the middle of the tent, nonchalently let out a long burp (entirely acceptable in Indian etiquette). Tamsin looked up and gave a big incredulous smile and we all fell about laughing.


6'th August
Day 4 - the end of the trek
Tamsin went to bed without eating, but slept well, woke up on good form and managed to eat several slices of toast at breakfast, which we had sitting outside in warm sunshine. After that point, Tamsin never looked back - she was chirpy all the way down and insisted on walking herself, refusing Chotu's offers to carry her.
Our warm-up was another river crossing, just by our camp site. Colder and wider than the last river crossing, our feet and legs were stinging painfully as we climbed out on the other side. After that wake-up call, it was another lovely walk, and for the first time, it was virtually all descent into the valley of the roaring Chandra river. We followed the river, crossing at one point another glacier that plunged steeply straight into the thundering waters. It was a short crossing, but the most frightening, given that if we slipped, there would be nothing to stop us sliding all the way down into the churning icy river below. This time, we went one by one with Chotu and his steady step at our side.
We arrived at the end of our trek at a sunny, clearing by the river, where the jeep was waiting to take the team and the equipment on the 8 hhour drive back to Manali from where we had started. We said our goodbyes, and gave our warm thanks and a well earned tip to the team, and Jacqui and I headed off across the bridge to the village of Chattru - in reality a gathering of a couple of tented dhabas offering dorm style beds and some basic food. We were on our way to Kasa (opposite direction to Manali) and the next bus was the following morning. One of the dhabas had a tent set up, just about big enough for the 4 of us and cheaper than the dormitory beds, so we opted for that, and then prepared ourselves for our nearly 24 hour wait for the bus (our longest ever...so far).
This felt truly like the middle of nowhere. Apart from the roar of the river, we were in a mountainous silence, broken only by the occasional sound of an approaching vehicle, crescendoing from a distant rumble down the valley. There was really nothing to do except read, play cards, chat, drink chai, eat dahl (lentils) and rice, and occasionally chat to some other passing travellers that called in on their way to Manali or to Kasa. It was calm, and very relaxing after our arduous trek.

7th August
Day 5 - Chattru to Kasa
True to form, that even after 24 hours to get ready, we were so relaxed that we nearly missed the bus the following day and when the shout came that the bus could be seen winding its way at the other end of the valley - we were hurriedly stuffing clothes into our rucksacks, starting to imagine another 24 hour wait if we missed it.
The bus rumbled to a stop. Having verified that it was going to Kasa (there weren't really any other options, but best to be sure), I climbed up onto the roof and attached our rucksacks, and we all hopped in. We had been told that we had an 8 hour trip in front of us and knowing what the roads were like, Jacqui and the girls had all taken a travel sickness tablet (recommended by the pharmacist that the girls had befriended in the train to Chandigarh - if you're following - thank-you!). This was true travellers stuff - the bus was rugged, basic, noisy and dusty, and ground its way up or down amazing winding tracks on valley sides, occasionally crossing rickety bridges at the bottom (whose perennity was emphasised by the remains of the previous collapsed bridge by its side) before winding its way up the other valley side and wading through melt streams that flowed down the mountains, burying our road on their way down to the river. Our hearts were in our mouths as the bus veered round corners, the road edge disappearing from our view under the bus, leaving us exposed only to the sheer drop down the rock side. The track was mostly single laned, and sometimes looking in front of us there didn't look like there was sufficient space for a bus between the rock face and the cliff edge, and we closed our eyes and reassured ourselves with the fact that this bus took this route every day and, as far as we know, survived. While we were unable to take our eyes off the scenery for one minute during the whole duration of the trip, our experienced fellow passengers were of course completely unruffled and were more interested in us, and in particular the children, or otherwise slept with their heads being rolled from side to side, often onto my shoulder.
The bus stopped for lunch at a roadside dhaba, and we all had some excellent and very cheap dahl and rice inside this dark atmospheric room before heading off again. We stopped again at Kunzum Pass (4551m), which marks the transition from the Lahaul valley into the remote Spiti valley, and has a small Buddhist temple on the top where the passengers all say their prayers (offering, I imagined, thanks for having survived the journey so far, or pleas to survive the next leg, or both).
Manali had already had a Buddhist flavour - we were now moving into true Buddhist territory - the faces on the bus, the whitewashed houses with sticks stacked on the roofs, the chow mein and momos being offered at roadside restaurants, the ubiquitous colourful prayer flags - we felt like we had left India and entered Tibet.
We saw Kasa, a collection of houses nestled into the side of the valley, probably 1 hour before we had wound our way down the valley side, across the bridge and along the river to arrive there. This is the capital of the Spiti valley - but everything is relative - the Spiti valley is one of the most sparsely populated regions of the world. When we arrived it was cold and had been raining. We wondered up the main bazaar street (not more than a puddled rocky track), checking rooms in guest houses for one that suited us. This small town was immediately interesting, but at the same time seemed dreary and empty after Manali.
THe girls were starting to get into the swing of budget travelling - when we visited one over-priced guest house, who showed us to their best suite, it was Tamsin that pointed out that we had no need of a bathroom that big, We ended up in a very basic, but cheap guest house at the top of the street - we had two run down, basic, dirty double rooms with nothing in them other than the beds, and a shared smelly hole in the ground toilet. We were counting on the promise of a larger room becoming available the following day, and sure enough at 12:00 the next day, we moved into a larger run-down, basic, dirty double room, but enough space for a mattress on the floor for the girls and with its own bathroom. We haggled on the price, and ended up happy enough.
Our first impressions of Kasa were not helped by the lack of electricity. The rains had caused problems and the electricity came on just to tease us for a few minutes every couple of hours or so, and we stumbled our way around that evening with our single torch. We were tired and dirty after our trekking and our journey, disappointed with Kasa and down about the cold wet weather. So we drowned our sorrows in a beer and a pizza - eaten by candlelight.
As we had only one torch between two rooms, Tamsin and I put ourselves to bed in pitch darkness - working by sense of feel only, and hoping we wouldn't need to get up before morning.

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