A short photologue
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It was long drive through the heart of India. Bangalore – Pench – Jhansi – Agra – Kumaon hills - Corbett - Jaipur - Bangalore. 7000+ km.
While passing through Kaladhungi, I stopped for a while to take in the forest through all my sense, and to remember the days spent exploring Corbett country on foot during the autumn of 2012. In Mukteshwar, I went for a long night walk. A guard did warn me that wild animals were common after 8 pm, but I figured that if my footsteps were loud enough, they would stay away. Spent an hour sitting on a bench, near the little square. There wasn’t a human in sight. The hoarse, leopard-warning call of a barking deer kept me company. Chaukori was boring, perhaps because I was thinking of the wonderful peak sightings I had had during my previous trip. Jhaltala was relaxing. Days were spent sitting in a pine forest, with mist, drizzle and pine needles for company. The evenings were spent in front of a fire. One night (a few hours before and after midnight) was spent in the middle of the forest, 0.5 km from the resort, with just a fire for company. A couple of times animals came up the path, stopped on seeing the fire, and went away. Had checked beforehand that there were no maneating leopards (there was one operating around Thal village, too far away) or cranky bears in that area, so it wasn’t risky.
The white horse My tent
Met a Himalayan Griffon Vulture on the way down from Kalamuni Top. That is the only wildlife photo session I had during this trip (I usually shoot wildlife). Munsiyari was cold and wet. I could only hope that the weather would improve the next day.
Next morning I started for Khuliya Top. It had been a while since I had carried a backpack on a mountain trail. It started raining. If I kept my warm clothes and rain gear on, I would sweat heavily. If I took them off, I would feel cold and numb after a few minutes. Anyway, clammy and sticky, I reached the campsite, where I met a few other hikers.
After changing clothes, I had a cuppa of chai and made sure that the tent was put up properly. Had some food to fortify the inner man. Heard some shouting, and went across to investigate. Leech attack – someone had decided to pitch a tent in the midst of long grass, to the utter delight of the critters. Came back and rechecked the tent interior (I hate creep crawly creatures; snakes are ok; worms and leeches are not ok). Once the drizzle slowed down, I started walking up to the Bugyals (the high meadows in the Himalayas) with my camera and a couple of light lenses in a small bag.
A raven. Grazing A glimpse of snow. Warm light, cool clouds. It was an overcast day
At that altitude, there weren’t many trees apart from rhododendrons. Rhododendrons remind me of Sikkim. I have visited Sikkim 10 times, but that was a long time back. A different life.
Met a shepherd and his flock after crossing the treeline. The locals climb with a slow but steady step. On and on. Without fatigue.
There were a few horses grazing around. One little fella was rather frisky, he would gallop across the meadow from time to time. A white horse gave me a few photo opportunities, as it stood in front of black rocks.
Quechua tent. Kept the cold out. I have a couple of them in Bangalore. A curious sheep
It had been a few years since I visited Bugyal country. I had forgotten how it felt to sit above the clouds on green grass, and stare as long as sheep or cows.
The shepherd went ahead when I stopped for 30 minutes to soak in the atmosphere. The sun was about to come out. The cold breeze and the warm sun on my face made for a heady cocktail, as I lay down on the grass and closed my eyes.
Silhouette. Stairway to heaven
I was hoping that the clouds would part before sunset. Seemed my prayers had been answered, since I could see a brief glimpse of Panchachulis behind the clouds. The view started getting better as the afternoon progressed.
And my mind just drifted.
All too soon, it was time to go back before it got too dark. As I slowly walked down, I saw Panchachuli I emerge like an iceberg above a sea of clouds. And then slowly the entire Panchachuli range became visible. Walked a little faster, and then sat down beside a cliff, waiting for the shadows to deepen and climb up the slope of the mountains. And then the peaks turned pink and orange, while the valleys became dark and blue. As the setting sun caressed the top pf the peaks, I changed my camera settings (metering, exposure) and took a few underexposed shots that highlighted the contrast between light and shadow.
Peaks visible above a sea of clouds A few moments before sunset. The sun caressing Panchachuli I.
The cold breeze. The thin air. The rapidly dying light. The sun kissing the Panchachulis goodbye. The cry of a raven. It was heaven.
Went down slowly, thoughtfully down to my tent. It was time for a hot tea and a crackling fire.
Next morning
I didn’t see the snow peaks again once I went down to Munsiyari, but that one magical afternoon (and the next morning) made up for the days of rain and mist. I knew I would be back again, when the peaks would be out in all their splendor during a full moon period. And perhaps take a few more photos such as these (shot during an earlier trip).
The house
The race
Just before sunrise
A full moon night