13 July 2021 – Chandrataal to Kullu – 155 km - Day 11 of Spiti Valley Exploration

The night turned out to be very long and uncomfortable. I nearly froze despite the thick quilt, blanket and the woollen inners. Sleep was disturbed and difficult and I waited eagerly for the first rays of light. Last night I realised that age has caught up with me. Age is surely a factor in enjoying such weather. I used to love the winters as I believed that additional layers of clothing would make me comfortable. On the contrary, in summer there is a limit to which one can peel of one’s clothes to tackle the sweltering heat!

I waited and waited for slivers of light to break the darkness of the night. As soon as I traced some, I was out of bed. Using the toilet was most difficult as everything inside seemed frozen too. Teeth almost fell out while brushing and the gums felt anaesthetized. Bathing was out of the question in the cold water. The next best I could do was to give myself a thorough sponging with wet wipes. The freshness that came with that and a set of fresh clothes changed the sombre mood.

I wished to leave as early as I could as the route between Batal and Gramphu was acknowledged as one of the worst in the country. It is just 50 kms from Batal to Gramphu and was stated to be only for the most adventurous. I met many tourists in Kaza and Chandrataal who preferred to return to Chandigarh via the Kinnaur route rather than risk their cars, bodies and reputation via Gramphu. Even though I was a bit apprehensive about the day’s drive I was also looking forward to experience the awful stretch between Batal and Gramphu.

Shivering from the cold I cradled a hot cup of tea in my palms till that went cold. The weather seemed to promise a better deal this day. I was surely tempted to make another dash to the Lake before leaving for Kullu, which was my destination for the day. I had read that Manali was cramping with tourists and therefore, decided on Kullu for the night halt. Breakfast of bread and eggs was sufficient to fortify me for the tough drive ahead.

Within minutes of leaving the camp site I reached the first Nallah. And, what do I see? A car had got stuck in the middle of the nallah and the driver had gone to fetch a vehicle to tow the car out of the nallah. A couple of girls who were travelling in the car recognised me from a restaurant in Kaza. While we indulged in light banter they thought it best to down a couple of slugs of vodka! Fortunately, the delay was not much at the nallah as a Thar came to the rescue. It effortlessly towed the Innova out of the nallah. The Champion, my car, took both the nallahs quite superbly without any hassle and I got to Batal without breaking a sweat. 

The Chacha Chachi Dhaba aka Chandra Dhaba at Batal is a favourite with passers-by, particularly bikers. That and the adjacent Kangri Dhaba are the only refreshment stops till Gramphu. Chacha Chachi has acquired quite a reputation for being helpful to tourists and those who get stranded in the area. The lovable couple live through the harshest of times in the region, setting up their establishment at the first hint of summer and leave when the winter forces all of them away. 

The road from Batal is a shame right upto Gramphu. It is part of the NH505 which is 275 km long from Khab Sangam near Nako to Gramphu. It is an offshoot of NH5. The road remains closed for most of the year due to snowfall and landslides. If it is designated a highway, whether National of State, it must be maintained to certain standards. That does not seem to be the philosophy of the NHAI. Rocks and stones cannot be termed as roads. That was all that was there on the designated National Highway.

In some places there are diversions which are not even signposted. I did see a couple of breakdowns at such places where vehicles took the wrong turn. At another a car had gobsmacked a huge rock – I don’t know how the driver managed that. But, that is part of the peril of driving on this road. Breakdowns and accidents can be costly because help would be more than a day away as there is no telephone connectivity over the entire route. One has to depend on good Samaritans and Guardian Angels. As one who does not even know how to change a punctured tyre, I was extra vigilant and cautious till I reached Gramphu.

I lost count of the number of water crossings, minor and major, along the route. However, the one closest to Gramphu – the Pagal Nallah – was the mother of them all. As I neared the nallah I could see a huge pile up of vehicles and trucks coming from the opposite direction. I was third on this side. Apparently the flow across the nallah was swift and copious with large, round and slippery rocks. This led to smaller vehicles, even Innova, getting stuck right in the middle of the nallah. To make matters worse, I saw a very large hume pipe laid across the nallah broken in two pieces with jagged ends. If one doesn’t take the pipes properly one will surely get stuck in the nallah. For vehicles going towards Batal the added problem is a steep climb uphill immediately after the nallah.

In India jugad is real. On my side of the road a truck was stationed with tow ropes to pull out vehicles stuck in the nallah. The private entrepreneur charges between Rs. 300 and Rs.800, depending on the size of the vehicle and the complication. In a hush hush conversation he confided in me that, on a ‘good day’, he would make over Rs. 20,000! Since there was a larger pile up of vehicles going towards Batal, drivers of those vehicles insisted on being cleared first. Thus, I had a lot of time to kill there. That is when I met Ankit, who was going towards Kaza in a Sumo with 7 others on a backpacking trip. Ankit is the Manager of a premier chain of Salons in Chandigarh. While talking to him I also met a couple of others who I had met in Komic village during my stay in Kaza. Such company helped tide over the delay at the nallah.

When it came to my turn I followed the advice of the Sardar taxi driver, “Pyar Se Mat Chalana”, and I got over the nallah without any hitch. However, I felt that the undercarriage of the car had hit something real hard. Once I crossed the messy pile up of vehicles I stopped to survey the damage. I found that the engine stone guard had got undone and a greenish liquid was leaking from somewhere. I thought it would be the coolant. Fortunately, in a while my mobile devices picked up signals and I located a Mahindra dealer in Manali.

The Atal tunnel has lopped off more than 20 km from the traditional Gramphu-Manali route via Marhi. That road has always been troublesome. I have been stuck near Marhi at least a couple of times in the past. The Atal Tunnel is truly a gift to the nation, a boon for travellers to Ladakh and Spiti. The 9 km tunnel under the Rohtang Pass is the longest tunnel over 10,000 feet in the world. The tunnel cost the nation Rs. 3200 crores, or Rs. 350 crores per km, thanks to time and cost overruns. A malady of our infrastructure projects. I was astonished that no toll was collected for the tunnel. At the entrance to the tunnel, from both ends, there were eager tourists just wanting to take selfies and possibly a video. I observed that police had cordoned off the visitors from the tunnel, possibly due to the hold up of traffic near Gramphu.

Once the excitement of traversing the Atal Tunnel was over my only concern was to reach the service station without any breakdown. In the end, I reached the service station beyond Manali and the young man there took a look at the vehicle and said that a private mechanic, next to the service station, would attend to the required repair. The mechanic appeared to be quite quixotic in the way he was attending to one of the vehicles. Appearances can be deceptive. In the end, he thoroughly attended to the problems. He told me that the leak is nothing to be worried about for the next week or so. He fixed the engine stone guard and the rear wipers. In about an hour, I was on my way to Kullu via Naggar.

In Naggar I had to pull up to take a phone call. It was from the Superintendent of Police, Kaza. Unknown to me, panic had set in with family and friends as they read and heard about the cloud burst in Dharamsala. To add to their worries, I had been off the mobile hook up for over four days. The SP enquired of my condition to report back to my cousin in Chennai, whose senior police contact in Chennai had traced me up to Kaza! Then came calls from my brother and son from Cochin. Mr. Ali, the owner of the Company I consult for, as is his wont, had used his political clout to trace me up to Chandrataal!

I booked the City View Hotel on the Mandi highway overlooking the Beas River for my overnight stay in Kullu. The location is superb, with river rafting facilities close by, and the hotel is new, having opened just a year ago with only 6 rooms and a party hall, ice cream and coffee shop, sweet and pastry shop. Deepak, the owner of the Hotel, had worked his way up from being a hotel employee to a dhaba and restaurant owner. He values customers and service to them. However, he was not there when I checked in. The young man, who later turned out to be the owner’s son, told me that the AC is yet to become operational. While I was annoyed about it he told me that he would give me a pedestal fan and a discount. I asked to see the room before checking in. I was happy with what I saw and decided to take the room at the discount offered.

After settling down in the room I called up an erstwhile railway colleague who is settled in Kullu. Prem Rawal had retired a couple of years back from the Railway Protection Force as Additional Director General. I called on Mrs and Mr Rawal in their lovely home with a most beautiful garden, handcrafted by the indefatigable duo. Mrs. Rawal told me that the two of them agreed on only one thing and that is the upkeep of the garden! I remembered Prem as a fitness freak in the Railway Staff College, Vadodara, where we spent our initial days as probationers. He still maintains his fitness, trekking with friends and going on long walks. Plenty of quality wood and furniture embellish their lovely home. The ever smiling Mrs. Rawal had made delectable Uttappan and chutney. I just could not stop at one, however polite I tried to be. The banana cake and dry fruits found additional space on my plate before being unceremoniously treated inside my mouth. Prem presented me with the traditional Kullu cap when I took leave of the charming couple.

I had dinner in the restaurant of the hotel. The hakka noodles and stir-fried veggies with cashew nuts was superb and I ordered an extra portion. I thanked the chef for the lovely food and wished Deepak, the owner, the best for seasons to come. I presented him with a copy of “The Indian Cheetah in Siberia” before I left for the room. Later he called me up to say that he was thrilled to read my report of Myanmar in the book. Apparently, he travels to Myanmar every year for a month to visit relatives and friends and is in love with that country. I would not blame him. The people there are so simple. They do not deserve the regime that is scuttling their future now.