As luck would have it
We did our Char Dham Yatra (a Hindu pilgrimage to 4 spiritual abodes) in 2006 mainly because it was arranged through a mission school which meant we would be in the company of lively teenagers. We couldn't pass it up. Add a few more adults for good measure and a swamiji for our daily scripture reading and we're all set to go.
On our first stop at Haridwar we had no choice but to dine at a Dhabba ( a roadside eatery). By the time we reached Uttarkand the next day we had the runs. Luckily we were lodged in a good, clean, airy hotel. While Drink rested, I managed to join the rest of the group in floating the traditional diyas(an oil lamp placed in a cup made of leaves and flowers) along the banks of the Baghirati. We then began prepping for the next day's drive to Gangotri (3000 m above sea level) and an arduous climb up to Gomuk (4000m above sea level).
Gangotri, as the name suggests, is the glacier from which the Ganges originates. Gaumuk (it translates to mouth of a cow) is the source of the Bagirati, a tributary of the Ganges.
What's in a definition?
I'm not going to be mulish about the differences between donkeys, mules, asses and ponies. For the purpose of this blog these beasts of burden are simply mules.
Mule to the rescue
And there we were at Gangotri. After the preliminary prayers we started our trek. The teenagers started off with gusto. Two of the adults, one having wheezing problems, had decided earlier to ride on the mules. Drink and I started walking up the slope. He was several meters ahead of me when I found it difficult to even raise a leg for the next step. And when it did happen after what seemed like ages, my body simply stopped cooperating. I slumped, my knees giving way. Should I wait here till they all came back the next day? Breathing was becoming laborious because of the thin air. Drink eventually realised that we were both too weak for the climb and we too hired mules.
The guides walked along with us. It took a few minutes to get comfortable with the gait and the way we should hold on to the saddle bar. Initially I gripped tight and did not quite trust my ride. Passing us were hired men carrying either the very old or very weak pilgrims in a basket slung over their backs. Sometimes it was two men carrying a simple palanquin. Who were the real pilgrims? The carriers or the riders? These men, mostly Nepalese were as nimble as the mountain goats. We were told they made these trips about 4 times a day.!
Putting ourselves in their hooves
Getting over the trepidation of riding a mule we begin to see the precarious route for what it is. Sheer rocky walls with tiny rock avalanches on the one side, and sheer drops on the other. Every now and then we crossed narrow, loose pebbled shallow streams from the gentle cascades. It dawns upon us, then, that the beasts we rode were more sure-footed than we were. They can sense imminent rock falls and dodge instinctively, the terrain permitting.
All the beasts of burden had to stop at a point long before Bhojwasa, where we'd spend the night. We had at least another hour's trekking and it was getting dark, adding to the urgency. This time our knees cooperated and we had the satisfaction of having trekked at high altitudes.
The raw deal
We were treated to hot tomato soup and then shown our accommodation for the night. It was like a huge tent with about 50 beds arranged in rows. Each had a mattress and a thick quilt. Perhaps they were washed a couple of times a year. We all smelt of mule. Our shoes were caked with dung and dew, our socks all damp. We did change into fresh socks before bed. For the toilets( only two) we had to walk into the main building. It had no running water. There was no heating, while the temperature was -2 ° C. Electricity came from a generator for a very short duration. But then, what need had we for it?
Divine intervention ?
The next day Drink felt strong enough to trek up to Gaumuk and back while I sat on the banks of the Bagirathi awed by the Shivling Peak, the silence and magic of it all.
In the afternoon we muled down back to Gangotri. I heard a little gasp from behind me. The guide was trying to steady the mule Drink was riding because it had just slipped towards the precipice but the beast had found a foothold, a wisp of a stump that stuck out a few inches below. I hope it was not because of overwork. The sure footed mule, without a doubt, saved the day. Definitely a close shave.
I wouldn't call it a vision
The moment we reached flat ground almost everyone of us lay down on our backs and it seemed as though a gigantic Lord Shiva appeared before me! The amalgam of the impact of Shivling, awe inspiring nature, the ordeal and cultural associations (my dad was a devout Shaivite)? I was awash with the satisfaction of having experienced the oldest mountains in the world.
Side-stepping in Santorini
When doing the Mediterranean cruises Santorini is definitely on the cards. The ships anchor in the deeper parts of the caldera and passengers are tendered to the shore in smaller boats. From Skala port at the bottom of the cliff there are two ways to reach the town of Fira on top: 600 broad pebbled steps that snake their way up or cable car. The first time we went we were not too sure about the total number of steps, their height and their span. Besides there was a serpentine line for the 6 cable cars. The line to buy tickets for the mule ride was not promising either -- we didn't see any mule in the vicinity, which translates to 'will we ever get there?'
The decision was easy. We would climb in spite of the July heat, or so we thought. Only a few steps up a turbaned man was touting cheaper mule rides and we were assured, by gestures, that the mules are on their way. A crowd was already gathering. Sure enough we heard a tremendous thudding of what must have been 20 or so mules returning from the top.
Caldera-- formed when a volcano erupts and collapses inward.
I scratch myself, you get scratched too
We were left to our own devices to climb onto them, passengers helping each other out and few guides to hold them. Even before my foot found the stirrup on the other side, the mule took off. Here I was sitting precariously on the mule, feeling myself slipping down, but somehow I stayed on. Drink was right before me. The mule felt an itch and therefore rubbed its flank against the cliff wall, and hence my calf was also scatched. I'm sure the mule had a twinkle in his eye.
Smart asses
At a particular step , my mule stopped momentarily, resumed walking and then stopped again for a longer period. Now what? It was the end of the journey. I'm glad my ride did not shrug me off. Another rider gave me a helping hand as I dismounted rather ungracefully.
We found out that at the momentary pause at the first stop we had been photographed . The mule had actually posed! Of course we bought the snaps. The mule waited for us to dismount before joining the herd to make its way back to the starting point. Well trained, smart, cheeky.
I wonder what the grunting mules carrying the obese felt and whether they took out on them in audacious ways.
As we walked down after admiring the views, from atop the cliff studded with blue domes, white washed buildings punctuated by blue doors and windows and well as potted plants we found ourselves slipping down the stairs strewn with a scattering of hay and lots of dung.
Squeamishness was not the deciding factor
The second trip was made with the grand children who are bundles of energy wanting to climb every hill they encounter. (They have climbed 1400 uneven, roughly hewn steps up to the fortress in Kotor, Montenegro.) They were squeamish about the mules and they mutually avoided each other. Even they were poofed as we reached the top on a hot and humid morning. There was more to climb within Fira. They walked into churches and sat under the few trees or in the shadows of the walls, or at a door step to take a respite and rehydrate themselves.
Battle of wits
The younger one wished we could take the cable car back to the port. I was adamant the price would be the deciding factor. He was resolute. Went up to the counter, enquired and he prevailed, for children paid only 2€ each. Sitting in the comfort of the car they began to appreciate the blue waters of the crater where our ship floated like a toy. To the thrill was added the ride on a smaller boat to the ship. We got to sit in the open air upper deck, now truly appreciating the cliffs and the town that hung on tenaciously at the edge.
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