Last night, as I was writing my blog, I told Jeevan, whose Jio hotspot was my lifeline, about the early morning start I had in mind. He told me that he would be fast asleep as he and the other staff get to bed after 2 am only, once the last orders and the cleaning are done. When I placed that alongside the raucous guests who were in the hotel for the night I knew that Jeevan and his staff were in for a longer than usual night. I handed Jeevan a copy of “An Indian Cheetah in Siberia” and he slayed me by saying that he had googled and ‘discovered’ all about me. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or just plain surprised. I guess I was a little of both. He said that he felt honored that I had chosen his Hotel to rest in Kaza. I had been initially disappointed with the accommodation, but then later grew into it. I chose to settle the bill the previous night so that the major work for the morning is done. I only needed the hotspot from Jeevan to set my GPS to Chandrataal. Even though Jeevan kept saying that the route is very well sign posted, I did not want to take a chance.
When I woke up this morning close to 4 am I found that the town had received overnight showers and there was a light drizzle still around. The meteorological forecast for Himachal Pradesh was not so good for the coming few days and I was starting off on the most challenging part of my drive in that kind of weather outlook. I had as many diverse opinions on the time that would be taken between Kaza and Chandrataal and the road conditions as the number of people I had spoken to. Of course, the most conservative estimate I had was from the Tenzin Camp organiser, who said that it would take me between 8 to 10 hours to cover the 100 km to the Camp! That forecast is one of the reasons why I chose to leave by 5 am. Even if I reached Chandrataal by 3 pm I would be left with enough time to visit the legendary Lake the same evening.
As I left the town and apprehensively got on to the NH505 I was a bit wary about stressing the accelerator. I was worried that I would suddenly hit a bad patch and that would damage the car. But, I need not have worried because the condition of the road took me completely by surprise. Just out of Kaza town I crossed the Spiti River and motored along quite comfortably through the small villages of Rangrik, Key, Hal and Losar. The famed Key Monastery is said to have been originally founded in Rangrik in the 11th century before it was destroyed in the 14th century and thereafter was resited to Key.
Till about 12 km short of the Kunzum Pass the road was in very good condition with amazing views of the Valley. The road to Kumzum Pass was taken gingerly – 12 km took nearly 45 minutes. Despite the less than comfy patch short of the Pass, light rain and a restrained accelerator the distance of 75 km from Kaza to Kunzum Pass was done in two and half hours. The last 20 km from Losar was a steady climb through quasi-desert landscape. The Pass is not an all weather crossing; it remains open only for a limited period from July to November each year. When I got to the Pass it was drizzling moderately and many bikers had parked under mountain overhangs to let the weather pass. The Kunzum Pass, at 14,931 feet, is the connecting point between Spiti and Lahaul Valleys.
The Kunzum Mata Temple is a must visit for travellers through the Pass. People go there to seek the blessings of the Mata to give them safe passage along the tricky passage to Manali through Batal. The colourful flags at the temple, can be seen from some distance and breaks the monotony of the landscape. There are a few stories attached to the temple such as a coin sticking to the stone inside the temple if one’s faith is unquestioned. The other is about a thief who tried to steal the stone and failed as the stoned grew in size and prevented its theft! Whatever the myths and legends attached to the temple I did find some taxi drivers stop at the temple and pray before resuming their journey. It was time for my breakfast of biscuits and coffee and I did that in the quiet solitude of the Mata’s presence.
It is 18 km from the Kunzum Pass to the Tenzin Camp site in Chandrataal. At the fork where the Chandrataal road begins, off the main road to Batal, there is an arch with the warning that the road ahead is not motorable. The road condition did indeed sharply deteriorate. But, it certainly was not one that could not be navigated. However, as a precaution I stopped many drivers coming from the opposite direction to seek their views on the condition of the road that lay ahead of me. I was told that I would have to navigate two major water crossings, one of them very rapid, and many other lesser water crossings. Ahead of the first major crossing I got the best advice from a Sardar taxi driver, who had his tempo full of people. He advised me to down the accelerator at the crossing and drive aggressively. The way he conveyed that to me will remain etched in my memory for long. He said, “Pyar Se Math Chalana”!
The two major water crossings were indeed a challenge, but then I had paid heed to the taxi driver’s advice. I reached the Tenzin Camp a little after 9 am in heavily overcast conditions and drizzle. I was allotted a Swiss tent despite the caretaker not having my booking. That is when I discovered that the camp site is totally devoid of power supply. Hence, no internet, no lights, no charging of devices and no contacts. The camp sites are auctioned ever year by the government and year-on-year the sites have multiplied, save the year of the pandemic. A pre-condition for permission is that no generator sets would be used and loud music and bonfires are banned. Therefore, the sites have to depend on solar energy for limited use. The area gets a lot of foreign tourists and is a favourite embarkation point for the Chandrabhaga range treks. The range has mountains that are between 3000 and 6500 meters.
It was windy and drizzling and naturally, cold. The caretaker of the Camp asked me inside a tent where all the staff and other campers were gathered around a warm stove pipe arrangement. Hot tea was also passed around. In the relative warmth of the tent I met four girls who were camping there that night after having met at Batal and decided to team up. They narrated their experience of the drive from Manali – three of the four girls were from Naggar near Manali. I really admired them for the time they had taken off for this wonderful experience.
Later, as the weather eased a bit, meaning the drizzle quieted, I drove to the Chandrataal Lake, which is about 2 km from the camp site. One cannot drive right up to the Lake. I parked at the designated parking and walked the last km to the Lake. There weren’t many tourists around at the time. The Chandrabhaga range provide the perfect background for the Lake. I was told that the Lake is gorgeous blue on a perfectly sunny day. With the weather the way it was I was happy that it was not raining at the time. The crescent shape of the 2.5 km wide lake, situated at a height of 14,100 feet, gives the lake its name. The lake was a resting place for traders of the past who transited between Tibet and Manali. Camping was permitted by the lakeside in the past, but is prohibited now. The locals revere the Lake as it is said that Dharmaraj Yudhishter was taken to Heaven from that site. They also believe that fairies visit the Lake at night. Swimming, or even getting into the water, is prohibited. People live to break restrictions. One such daring young man was recently fished out from the Lake with his soul and body separated.
On my way back from the Lake, admiring the scraggy mountains on one side and concave snowy mountains on the other, wild flowers on the sloped meadows that lead to the Lake, I stopped many times to gulp in fresh air as I was panting and very short of oxygen at that height. Seeing me standing and huffing a couple of ladies, who were part of a group visiting the Lake, stopped and gave me a peeled pod of garlic and asked me to suck on it like a toffee. "Goodwill Knows No Boundaries". I was indeed grateful to them for being so considerate, but was skeptical of the efficacy of such a local remedy due to the poor condition of my lungs brought about by many years of smoking. But, lo and behold, I must say that the garlic pod worked and I felt much better from then on.
The tent was extremely cold and the two quilts and blankets could not keep me warm. Most importantly, I had nothing to do. I was disconnected from the entire Universe, or so it seemed. I did the next best I could. I sought refuge in the car and found it more comfy. I completed whatever documentation I could and then dozed a while in there. Close to 8 pm, by when it was pitch dark, lights came on and sometime later a frugal vegetarian meal was served in one of the tents. It was a struggle to get back to the cold bed in the tent, but there was no choice.
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