HEARD OF VALLEY OF FLOWERS? BETTER VISIT THE RALAM VALLEY

A few valleys in the inner Himalayan Ranges remain at low key yet their beauty and grandeur may be far superior to some of the popular ones. The village Lilam on the right bank of the Gori River can rightly be termed as the entry point of Johaar Valley, as well as to the Ralam valley. Opposite on the left bank of the river, the winter village and permanent settlement of the Ralamwasis, the Paanto is situated. One could just reach the village across through a hanging bridge. The route through the village Paaton leads to the Ralam valley, which is around 35 odd kms away. It would seem difficult on the part of the readers to follow the route and the series of settlements, since I preferred to follow the dictates of my mind, which was borne of my own presumption that it would be all the more preferable to make the extensive study of the Johaar valley, entering through the Brijkang top, i.e., the bridge between the Ralam valley and the Johaar down below. More so, I intended to survey the Ralam valley in all its grandeur, principally the extensive Marjhali bugyal, in its prime.

We reach the village Paaton and find it all deserted. Not a single soul, it’s hard to believe. Well it is the harvesting season for Yar Tsa Gumba, we reckon, but all the villagers? We cress cross the village, a lone face protrudes out of the window, an infirmed poor old, left behind, all alone! The village is actually a conglomeration of around four villages together, and thus it’s all the more surprising-where are the inhabitants? In the season when potatoes and the rajma (beans), the two staple and remunerative crops grown in these areas shouldn’t have left any vacant space available in the village, I find the fields completely desolate! I enquire from the old person, if we can get food? He takes pains to guide us to Bacchi Singh Rawat’s home, who has taken leave from his job to act as middleman to sell Yar tsa Gumba. He tells us that everyone, all the children, the youth, the women, the grannies, the grandpas, all who could travel 35 kms through to Ralam, have moved out. ‘But, what about the cultivation-the potato, the rajma?’ It’s a question, which I have been asking myself throughout-a traditional lifestyle all changed by a single factor-Yar tsa Gumba. What will happen when this resource all together gets vanished, the way they are exploiting it, will no doubt, eventually will lead to it. ‘Back to the basics, grow potato, Rajma, fight off the monkeys, who are out to destroy the crops.’, replies Bacchi Singh, as if knowing what I was thinking. The belief-make hay while the sun shines, needs to be tackled, and very urgently.

The trek to Ralam is a tedious one. We are told that the cost of the ration in the far off Ralam is just the double of what we get at Paaton, and so we are left pondering, whether to buy the goods and carry the same-35 kms, through the ridges, river banks and more importantly through Pairaars (the landslides prone zones). We decided otherwise. It’s a steep climb, and with the sun beating down on us, the trek takes a toll on one’s determination. There’s no respite- one stands to look ahead, the path wriggles to the top, which is more often than not, remains obscure from the blurred vision, drenched with sweat. While there’s always a tendency to lie down, but because of the sun, one is left with no other option than to continue ahead. A small temple devoted to the regional god- Harsling comes into view, signaling the end of the torturous climb.

The months of July-August offers the rich variety of flowers, lending soothing effect to the tired limbs.

We offer our prayers, light the incense sticks (as told by the village kinsmen at Paaton), and look smilingly at the deeply forested route ahead, but no sooner I feel something mischievous wriggling in my thigh-Damn the blood thirsty leeches! As the sun was neglected, so too the leeches. We are now treading in the steepest slopes I have ever come up with; rather slope is not the right word, for you are not walking on your legs but on your bottoms, and at times on all your fours! The porter tells me that it’s all the way down to the Ralam Gad (syn. rivulet)! Then why make a route so steep, to the top, only to descend down! Then to add salt to the misery, when the riverbank is so near, we are made to climb up, then down, at least half a dozen times till we finally reach our destination for the day- Lingrani, probably named because of the abundance of pteridophytes, the ferns locally called Lingura, a delicacy. The first thing we do is to collect wood, logs to burn through the night, as we are told that baby cubs of bear have been sighted very recently, and thus beware! With thick bushes and forest that surrounds you from almost three sides, and the river in the front, you are left with no escape routes. That night I recite the Gayatri mantra or slokas before going off to sleep-may be it would save us from the bears!

Next morning we breast ourselves for the long trek ahead. We start out very early, around 5:30 AM. From Lingrani, it’s the most picturesque paths one would come across. Even when it’s all zigzag way up, the route offers the best that nature has to offer- the white-pinkish flowers of panger (Aesculus indica) give way to bright red, subsequently pink and then bright white flowers of Burans (Rhododendron sp.). In midst, the all-giant Kharshu (Quercus semecarpifolia), laden with epiphytes, the orchids, the lichens (locally called jhula) and mushrooms, leave your jaw wide open! Mid-way through we decide to stay for a while in Marjhali-the alpine meadow seems to have no end. The seer size overwhelms me. Added to its grandeur are some of the most beautiful sights one would come across. On our left the sacred mountain of Harsling, followed by Birjgang top, ahead the Ralam glacier could be viewed, and circling one’s eyes to the right, across the left bank of the Ralam gad, are the twin peaks of Switla and Rajrambha. If this is not enough, innumerous waterfalls hurtling down on both the sides, with herds of sheep leisurely grazing. One need not be Wordsworth to appreciate all this!

The alpine meadows of Ralam appear to be lush green and more productive compared to those present in the adjacent Johaar or Darma valleys, principally due to higher rainfall and mild climate. Shady moist places especially north facing slopes of the Marjhali bugyals, is rich in Mitha (Aconitum atrox), hence the shepherds avoid grazing in these areas, for the simple reason that this species is toxic to the livestock population, but for the eyes of the beholder, the extensive distribution of the same gives a blue tinge to the whole landscape. It is difficult to fathom, one so beautiful could be toxic too! The major bugyal sites, apart from the Marjhali (which is located enroute to the Ralam village), include Rajrambha, Rajthor, Darmithor, Bishanthor, Galpari, Sangalpa, Yangchari, and Sipu Gwar.

Even though the village Ralam is way far ahead, but because the same could be viewed throughout the trek, one need not hurry and thus enjoy all the more. When we finally arrive in the village we are met with an ugly sight. The religious ceremony had just finished and the male folks were all drunk from intake of the locally brewed Chakti. It leaves a bad taste in the mouth, for we find ourselves in a very precarious situation where one wants to loosen oneself away from the smelling horde of drunks and at the same time not even dream of offending them! I know habit relates to habitat, that drinks and all its accompaniments are not just essential but rather desirable as survival kits in the cold environment, but then these thoughts or knowledge-base are best to be written forth and not faced up to!

The very extensive and rich Marjhali bugyal will out compete the more famous ‘Valley of Flowers’, not just in floral diversity, but all because of its grandeur.

We inquire about Prahlad Singh, the resource person; we had been advised to meet. We are told that he is experiencing a severe headache (born out of drink, for sure). We set up our tent way away from the village, and immediately set off for procuring ration for ourselves, before it’s too late! The pradhanpati (the term for husband of the gram pradhan-a lady) earlier on our arrival had requested us to be his guest, and then after an interval lasting for a mere quarter of an hour, had turned to offer us food for the night right in our tents, made us a bit wary, if the same would be delivered as promised! Its mutton served. We lunge ourselves towards the pressure cooker filled to the brim and the bowl. My student, Khaggi makes a vent search for the mutton pieces…a total of four to five pieces of the same is unearthed to be shared between three of us! The next morning, the first man to venture into our tent is Prahlad Singh, accompanied by a kettle carrying tea. How soothing (at least I have still not forgotten the treatment last night). He is one man I immediately start admiring (not for the cup of tea though) for his forthright approach, his entrepreneurship, his foresight and more importantly his zeal to share what he believes to be right. Where everyone fell back, he volunteered to breed the yaks, till nonexistent in the valley. The story of how he undertook the task of bringing two pairs of yak, all the way from Tibet to his village, and then successfully breeding them, withstanding the harsh climatic conditions, the bitter cold, the snow (when every soul has long left for their winter homes), is a lore in itself.

We leave behind the porter, Hira Singh with instruction that we will return back from the Ralam glacier, which is located a good 4-5 kms ahead, by 2 PM. No sooner that we had ventured for the destination, and what looked so crystal clear and mighty from a distance at the beginning, turned obscure behind the veil of clouds. But then we were determined to make it to the glacier and to view the same from the close quarters. Also, I had planned to trek, a minimal distance on the path, the Sangalpa meadows and thence to the Sipu gwar, and in probability, I thought could approach the cone-shaped Sweetla peak, which appeared so very near. It all remained a dream, awashed. We had to hurriedly turn back for the weather had turned worse. The day was then planned to be spent with the people in the village, who were hard to locate, for the same reason-Yar tsa gumba. They would only return back around 5 PM. The rainfall, which proved to be a deterrent for us, obviously did not have least affect on these people.

Where else will one come across a herd of Yaks in their natural setting? This species numbers in just few hundred across the length of the Himalaya

Next morning, after bidding good bye to Shri Prahlad, we left the village Ralam for Johaar. The locals pointed out the route, atop the Brijkang ridge to be followed, and it all seemed so easy. Infact, there were times when we just didn’t lend our attention to the details of the route to be followed, being offered by the helping Ralamwasis! For all this negligence and forbearing attitude, we needed to be paid, and paid dearly. We lost the path. All the way through Paaton till Ralam, I was harbouring doubts about the efficacy of our porter, who had claimed to know all the routes in the region. We were for surprise, when he led us to all together a different path, a route which was long last forsaken by the locals themselves. Atop the Marjhali bugyal and very near to the Brijkang top, the porter left us behind to look out for the path ahead. We all knew that the ridge separates the two valleys, and crossing the ridge and moving down the other end will no doubt lead us to the Johaar valley, but which segment, or whether there existed a path forward? The questions were aplenty. Still we decided to go along with the dictates of the porter, who was adamant to go ahead. We would only know later, what was in store for us. The actual path from Brijkang leads to the village Bilju, the path we were treading upon would lead us to the village Khilanch, a good 11 odd kms behind and that too, if we were formidable enough to crisscross the pairarr, the landslide prone zone, which, due to its accompanied dangers was avoided by the locals too, including the daring anwals!

The panoramic view of the Switla Range across the Ralam village.

Somehow, we slide down through snow, spreading out our legs, with hands buried into the snow to retard the descent down. Steady, steady, steady, the thoughts keep coming. It’s a beautiful face of the mountain, when we finally reach to the safety and gather strength to look back. Travel, in general, and more so in the mountains, is a kind of sensory deprivation. You crave for the little things you least desired for in the past. Resting my back on the gentle grassy slopes, above the village Khilanch, I dream about the chocolates, hot gulaab jamuns, and, and…. And as if the god was lending his ears to my calls, I am given a slice of radish along with a pinch of salt, peppered with red chillies, dried mint leaves. I divorce the same in a single munch, and out of the feeling that I have a right to ask for more, extend my hand towards that lone philanthrope in the wilderness. He turns his head away. I am left dumbfounded, and slowly, very steadily retrace my fully extended hand back, in a mock way, as if I was pointing at something way ahead! Do I hear laughter at my back? This was the only way that Hira Singh, the porter could pay me back. It was only when we finally reached the village Khilanch, could Hira divulge out that it was for the first time that he was traveling through Ralam and now would..through Johaar. Poor soul! The trek had proved tough for him too, as he would later say.

The Route
The nearest railway head is Kathgodam, from where one could easily hire a taxi directly to the township of Pithoragarh, a good 220 kms! Or better still one could rather visit the nearest tourist destination, Nainital, just around 30 kms away. One could then hire a taxi for Pithoragarh. Why hire a taxi, because then one could easily avail of the culturally significant sites such as Jageshwar Dham, which falls enroute. From Delhi, one could also board a bus from Anand Vihar Inter State Bus Terminal for Haldwani or Almora or directly for Pithoragarh via Tanakpur. From Pithoragarh, it’s another 135 kms to the Munsiari Township, where after reaching, due inner line permission must be sought from the Tehsil headquarters-A Must. Very often the tourists halt at Almora township, and undertake the route through Verinag, Choukori and Thal to reach the township of Munsiari, which lessens the journey by a day. For the border township of Dharchula, it’s 96 kms from Pithoragarh. Again, due inner line permission must be sought from the Tehsil headquarters-A Must. One should carry a medical certificate, along with two passport size photographs (since the same would take a whole day long to procure!) to lessen the time spent at Tehsil. One could then set off for the night halt at the village Dar, located at a distance of around 25 kms ahead.

DARMA VALLEY-FOR THE BEGINNERS, WHO WISH TO PLUNGE THEMSELVES INTO THE UNKNOWN

It was principally to carry out the research work that I had set out for the Darma valley. Little did I know that the singular journey will result into a lasting bond; a bond so strong that it will culminate with a resolve to study the community throughout the landscape. Even today, when the memories of that first foray into the valley, the recount of which was highly praised in the pages of the magazine ‘Srishti’, rekindles a desire to set forth again. Obviously, for writing forth an account of that last journey, I started with looking into the last issue of Srishti, but then having undertaken, at least two more treks, I would rather start afresh. The journey into Darma valley, in right earnest starts from the little hamlet, just at the bifurcation (which leads to the adjoining Chaudas valley) called Sobla. More often than not one could avail the benefit of a ride up to this place, from the border township of Dharchula, even though a ‘Kaccha’ road from Sobla, would take one right up to the village Dar. But roads in this region seldom remains functional, as the area in and around the Sobla is known for frequent cloud bursts. Since, I prefer to walk, even where one could avail of transport, lest to the liking of my two students, we trudged ahead. When the only concern is to study the nature, then one should leave behind the comfort. To get attuned to the surrounding nature, the sooner one lets his or her body tune in, the better, I tell my students, who I do believe are listening to me!

After around a 5-6 kms trek we reach our destination for night halt, the village Dar. There are a number of lodges to rest in and feel comfortable about. Next morning we set forth for Sela. The route from Dar begins with a trudge along a very narrow and treacherous path, cut through the face of the rock, with just enough space to carry your rucksack in an upright position, and yes, you do pray along that no one arrives from the other end of the path. But one does come across not only the humans but the ponies, and then one just has to cling on, hard-pressed to the wall, to give way.  One seldom dares to look down, for the roaring river Dhauli makes a frightful appearance. After nearly a 5 kms walk through a dense cover of forest, principally of Ringal (Thamnocalamus strictus), one reaches the stop , the village Bungling, which offers refreshments, not just in the form of tea, but if you are lucky, the shop owner will not hesitate to offer one with cucumber along with the peppered salt. In these lands, such instances are a luxury. The trek ahead is one of the most easiest of routes, the path seldom rises into steep gradient, only to take you down, very near to the banks of the Dhauli river, ending at Urthing, where a vast expanse of plain grassland awaits the traveler. There are two makeshift hotels to offer you meals. With just another two odd kms to tread along, one should spend more time in this beautiful space, created only for leisure, I believe. The hotel owner advises us to make bare minimum noise, as and when we do come across the Ringal forest, situated immediately at the outer fringes of the Sela village, for the simple reason that a Bear had been sighted with two young cubs, very recently. Bear are known for their ferocious nature, they need least of incitement to attack. One could thus simply visualize what a mother bear out to protect her two cubs, could do! It is still 2 kms ahead, but our behaviour has shown a marked change. We will only laugh out at our new found bravery, late in the night, huddled within the blankets, and comfortably away, in the lodge at Sela. The actual village Sela is located at the opposite bank of the river, and the one which caters to the travelers as well as to the ITBP personnel, is just a conglomeration of few hotels.

For an avid natural lover, the rich floral diversity leaves you spell bound

One should not discern the beauty of Darma through what little one has come across till Sela, for the actual beauty unfolds only when one finally reach the outskirts of the village Nangling, a good 7 kms from Sela, wherein begins the sudden change in the vegetation cover-Tall Abies and Deodar taking over the deciduous and broad-leaved forest till so common.. It is also the village from where one truly confronts and appreciates the culture of the Darmis. Nangling, the name is due to folklore, wherein a local deity gets rid of the awful Nag (Cobra) by feeding the same with red hot stones. And thus as per the legend, no one has since then confronted a snake from this region onward. Well one needs o appreciate the legend and the culture of the locals, even when one in possession of basic of biology will tell that snakes being a cold blooded animal, have its own limited habitats, governed by the temperature. However, the locals take pride in showing how extensive the legendary Nag was, which cress crosses the surrounding cliffs; with the form of the snake with head in the village and tail portion could be traced in the village Kuti! The next village enroute remains simply the most beautiful village in the whole of Darma valley, not just for its size, its grandeur, but primarily of the rich vegetation cover, extensive agricultural fields, as well as for the size of population. Infact, one needs o take note of that Darma valley is a bustling valley. In invariably all the villages, active agricultural practices by a relatively significant population size (which though is declining over a period) could easily be noticed. Compare the same with the scenario prevalent in Johaar or even Vyas, and the differences becomes all the more vivid. The reason could also be born out of the fact that this valley was never in the forefront of trade with Tibet, and hence were least affected with the closure of trade ties with the later. And hence the lifestyle remained as such- growing Fagopyrum, the buck wheat, which all together lends a majestic colour to the village. This singular crop is all together absent in Johaar, and nearly so, in Vyas too.

 

While the skies don’t lend you the rare sights of the mountain peaks, but then who cares when one is walking through the sublime, pure. Something..undescribable. Heavenly? No. Not the right word!

One comes across the locals drying out the collected truffles, mushroom in the sun. One of the eager onlookers would tell me that the collection of the mushrooms in a single season amounts to a figure, far exceeding 5 quintals, and that too from a single sacred forest, dominated by Abies, Deodar and Rhododendrons. This apart, the forest is rich in highly remunerative Morels (Morchella esculenta). Locals do collect it for their own consumption, little conscious of the actual price of the same in metropolis, where a kg of morels costs over 6000 rupees currently! It is believed that this sole resource available to these people could well provide them opportunity to raise their economic profile. But then the government teats the collection as illegal, even when it can not or rather is unable enforce its rulings! At this juncture one need to tell the readers that trek through Darma is one of the easiest of treks, with complete absence of abrupt climbs or steep gradients. One thus little realizes the ascent one has accomplished because the paths seldom lend that feeling to the traveler.  Infact, the locals would tell that it is common for the resident of the remotest village Sipu to cover the distance of around 46 odd kms up to the village Dar, all in a single day, and then to Dharchula, if he catches up a transport!

The Son-Dugtu and the adjoining village Dantu remains the centre of all the activities in Darma valley. It is also the site from where the majestic Panchachuli peaks are so magnificently visible. One should leave one’s belongings to one of the shops in the village Dugtu, and then climb the steady path that leads through a thicket of Birches and finally to Phaatab, an alpine meadow, from where one can actually experience the avalanches breaking loose from the Panchachuli peaks. The route adjoining the gad coming from the Panchachuli glacier, also happens to be the most common trek for the mountain climbers, who till date have not succeeded in scaling the Panchachuli Peak II. The traveler is advised to spend more time at this place, as the peaks leaves you spell bound due to its frequent change of hues. With the last of the sun rays, it is time to retrace one’s steps and move on to the adjoining village, Dantu, where one could take rest for the day in the Panchayat Ghar. Next morning after paying obedience and tributes to the Daanvir Shokyani, on the outer phalanges of the villages, one traverses through one of the best preserved forests of Deodar and Abies. The path leads to the village Dhakar, which oddly is the only village, which appears to be completely desolate. Midway though one could cross over the Dhauli River to get across the once prime site of the trade and thus accompanied glory, the village Goe. If one wants to undertake a study of the erstwhile trade ties of these people with the Tibet, or if one wants to appreciate the exquisite engravings on wood, this is the village.

The panoramic view of the Panchachuli peaks from Phaatab alpine pasture, Darma valley

Tedang, which is situated at the confluence of the Dhauli Ganga and the Lissar Yangtey, is one village, whose future looks bleak, for the simple reason that while the fast flowing Dhauli Ganga is gnawing away the chunks of valuable land from below, the adjoining torrent coming from the over hanging glacier, is yet another cause of concern. It is these facts, which probably had led the ancestors in declaring the forest located just above the village, as sacred forest, which no doubt protects the villages from the impending avalanches. From Tedang, it is a gradual climb towards the last village, Sipu. Across the river Lissar Yangtey, on the left bank, the village Marccha, remains a poor village, devoid of vital resources. Around seven kms through one of the very expansive forest of Birch, the remotest village in the region, Sipu seems to welcome you. Presently inhabited by just 7-8 families, Sipu is however one of the richest villages in terms of the resources, principally since it has one of the largest Van Panchayats under its fold. The religiously inclined villagers have preserved a small lake atop the village, Muldi Bai, which remains the only source of water for these people. Conservation behaviour woven around the fabric of culture or more appropriately, religion becomes discernable, more emphatic, when you are more confined to locales, where the basic necessities, like drinking water, or the fuel wood, remain item of luxury. 

The last village in the valley-The village Sipu

I cannot behold myself from telling the story, which relates to myself being made the guest of honour in a religious festivity, obviously to propitiate the local Bhumiyal, the protector of the village lands or the village itself. In the midst of the festivity I was offered the sacred drink-Chakti, which I politely refused. Next I was offered the Prasad, which was the first of its kind I mouthed (yes, deliberately). I do not want to render the details of the offering. The agony was that I was not able to gulp down the deliberate thing, which kept on swirling round in the cavity of my mouth. The difficult part was that I could not also part with it, with those expectant eyes completely focused on my face. While I was pondering over how to resolve my discomfiture, I was then offered Puris (chapattis backed in oil), which I literally snatched from the curious dispatcher, with the belief that somehow I would be able to swallow the deliberate thing along with the Puri. The agony would last; while the puris melted away in my mouth, the deliberate thing remained as such! The pretending and the smiling face of ‘the guest of honour’ was then offered the second serve. Of the deliberate thing, yes. And how could he refuge, when words simply could not pour forth!