Summit Run - Indrahar Pass

 

Here’s my story of planning, training and completing Summit Run Level 4, Indrahar Pass.

Disclaimer: I am not a long-distance runner, trail runner or an endurance athlete. But I love running. I love hiking. I also love running/walking in the midst of nature. This was the first running event I registered, planned and trained for.

When I moved to Bangalore in May this year, I was looking for a challenge to keep me motivated and goal oriented while running and training. I came across Summit Run at Indrahar Pass by Boots and Crampons. What I liked about the event was that it was all trail, and there were different levels that I could choose from. I wanted to push myself to do something which I have never done. This would be my first trail running event, and the longest ever single day walking/running event. So, I was circumspect. Initially I thought I would do Level 3 – which was 20 Kilometres, for I had only 4 months to train, and as per Chetan, the race director, Level 4 was comparable to a 60-70 Km ultramarathon in terms of effort. And here was I, someone who has never even run a distance beyond 25 kilometres ever! However, talking to friends who are much more experienced runners, I felt I should try to get to the top of Indrahar Pass. I could do it as a speed hike, instead of trying to approach it as a trail run.

With Level 4 in mind, I started to build my training and acclimatisation plan. Rahul (joshmach), is the person I look up to when I think of running. So, I sounded him out, and he gave me solid advice. I created a detailed plan with different types of training – long slow runs, higher intensity runs, hill hikes/runs, as well as strength and cross training. I jumped into it with all the spirit I could muster. However, after 2-3 weeks I realised I could not sustain it, and had to cut down on the number of days. I was busy with work as well, with frequent inter-city travel. So, I could not really keep the tempo up.

With about a month and a half left, I did a rain check. I decided I needed to train more for the climbs. There weren’t any hills near me, so I decided to do multiple reps of the staircase in my friend’s society building. I would do that at least twice a week, for 30 minutes, gradually building it up to an hour. On the weekend, I trained at some of the hills around Bangalore. With about a week to go, I was feeling strong. However, right then, I had food poisoning, and had to go on antibiotics – a typical spanner in the works.

So, I wasn’t feeling very confident when I travelled to Dharamkot on October 1, for my five day acclimatisation trek to Indrahar Pass. There were two things that I had in mind as I stayed four nights at 2900 meters and above – spend time on feet walking at altitude, and not get exhausted while doing it. On the day we trekked to the pass, we were out for 12 hours, going up and down from Laka Got. This was the longest I had been on my feet for a while.

Mt Mun and Indrahar Pass to the left, from Triund Top

Climbing up Indrahar - check out the scale, and the gradient




Pic courtesy: Amol Rajoba

Back in Dharamkot on 6th, I decided to chill while my partner and friends went out to explore Dharamsala. Event was on the 8th.

Event Day: Like most participants, I was there at 3:30 am, for a 4 am start. I had butterflies in my stomach. I planned to go along with Kiran, a participant and runner, who I had connected with while I was at Triund.

At 4 we were off! People started to move up the slope at a fair clip. Kiran was also speed hiking, and I had a hard time keeping up with him. I could feel myself going out of breath, and not being able to sustain it over the course of the entire hike/run. So, after a frantic first 20-25 minutes, I stopped pushing hard, and let my heart rate come down to a level where I could walk comfortably without feeling exhausted. There was rain around, and I tried to not get overheated in my hard-shell layer.

I had set myself the following targets:

Cut-off 1 (Magic View): 1.5 hours

Cut-off 2 (Triund 2870m): 2.5 – 3 hours

Cut-off 3 (Snow Line 3350m): 4 hours

Cut-off 4 (Summit 4350m): 8 hours

Finish: 14 hours

As I continued my slow but steady hike, I crossed Magic View in 1:25 hours. I felt fresh. Triund came at 2:35 hours. The sun was peeping out of the clouds, with a breath-taking view on display. I carried on till Snow Line, reaching there in 3 and a half hours. I was slowly gaining on the people who had gone past me. This gave me confidence in my method. I took a short break to have a sandwich, as I was hungry. My body was craving warm, solid food! But I did not have time to wait at the café for it, and so I continued onwards. 


Pic courtesy: boots and crampons team

At around 10 I crossed Chetan, just above Lahesh caves (3450 m). This was the business end of the climb – steep gradient at altitude, with uneven steps and exposure. Meanwhile, two of the local participants had already crossed me, and were on the way down! They finished in 5 hours! Kudos to them.

Above Lahesh Caves. Pic: Chetan Sehgal

I started gaining altitude slowly. Some participants passed me on their way back. But I also gained on a few others, crossing them. I felt no signs of altitude, and was feeling strong. However, I decided I would push only when I was in the flatter section of the trail, while descending. At just before noon, I reached the top, exactly eight hours after I started! I was super charged, and let out a roar. Not the typical me, but adrenaline can do weird things to you. I didn’t spend too long at the top, as I wanted to keep within the time frame I had set myself. So down I went.

At the pass at noon! So stoked.
Near Lahesh Cave. Pic courtesy: Chetan

With the race director and friend Chetan


The steep path down was hard on my tiring thighs and knees, so I wore a knee pad on my left knee as a precaution. The two-pole strategy really helped me here. It made sure that I did not slow down too much, nor did my legs tire out completely. I reached snow line at a little past 3 pm. I had 10 more kilometres to go. I was feeling strong, had gas in the tank. So, I packed away my trekking poles, and started jogging down. Slowly, I picked up my pace. Zipping downhill took me back to my early days of hiking in Sahyadri, where we would race each other in slippery monsoon conditions. I was alone, and enjoying myself.

I slowed down for a few minutes when I felt myself tiring, walking for a stretch, and then ran when my body felt it could. Triund and Magic view flew by, as I crossed some more people. It started to sink in that I would make it! I finished at quarter past five, reaching the Regional Mountaineering Centre, where my partner was eagerly waiting for me. This was such a special moment for me. It took me 13 hours 12 minutes to finish, well within my planned time.




It all worked out like clockwork for me. Perhaps there was beginner’s luck somewhere. But the planner in me was happy to have achieved the targets I had set myself. Still feeling over the moon as I write this down, five days later.

My heartfelt gratitude to the people who helped me – Rahul for the advice, the pep talks, and the confidence he had in my ability. Chetan for his guidance related to the race, about trail running in general, and his support during the event. Ramesh and Sushil, local lads who were our guides during the trek, and crew on event day. All other volunteers and participants, who made this event such a fun and memorable experience. Amol and Nishi – my friends who accompanied me on the trek. But above all, my partner Sam who had to bear with all my nervousness, anxiety and idiosyncrasies. The times I would wake up early and just disappear for the whole day! She was my greatest motivator, who never stopped believing in me.

Here's to many more such forays into the mountains, where I belong.



A solo hike to Nag Tibba

It is pitch dark. The only thing that I can see is in the cone of light from my headlamp, as I descend on scree, my breath condensing into a visible mist. I don’t know where my destination is, but I trust my instincts. I am alone, tired, my legs are shaking, and this steep slope doesn’t seem to end. But stopping is not an option. After ten minutes of nerve wracking downhill, I find the “Goat Village” board, which fills me with relief. I jog the rest of the way, my aches notwithstanding, to get to the warmth and safety of a covered roof.

Solo traveling and trekking gives me a pleasure beyond measure. I seek it out from time to time. It is my idea of detoxification, of both mind and body. It’s not the thrill and adventure I seek, but the calm and quiet.

The trip was impromptu, with my brother driving down in his car to Mussoorie with his wife, daughter, and me from Ghaziabad on a long weekend (thank Lord Shiva!). I have been to Dehradun a few times, but never really explored around it. So this was an opportunity to explore this hill town with a lot of history nestled in the Shivalik range of Himalaya. We checked in to Hotel Himalaya Castle, a dwelling from mid nineteenth century, with a lovely view of the hills. The best way to explore a town is on foot, and I did so by walking around Mall Road, Landour and towards Woodstock School, in the evening.

View of Garhwal Himalaya from Lal Tibba in the morning

The sun peeps from behind the hill at Lal Tibba

View from our hotel

Sunset in Mussoorie
On Saturday morning, we woke up early and walked uphill for about three kilometres on a dark chilly winter morning, to witness a brilliant sunrise at Lal Tibba, as the sun’s rays sparkled from behind the snow-capped mountains. In the afternoon we went to Cambridge Book Store, and bought a couple of Ruskin Bond books. The author was present there himself, and he was kind enough to sign them for all his patrons. What a legend! No airs, he interacted with readers - young and old, inspiring all of us who were present.
Taking Tips From The Stalwart


On Sunday, my brother and I parted ways. He was driving back to Delhi, while I had a one day hike to Nag Tibba in mind. I had heard a lot about it, and did not want to miss the chance when I was so close. I got into a state transport bus, which dropped me in Nainbagh at nine in the morning. From there, I had to wait a while to get a taxi. Finally, paid four hundred rupees to book a Bolero jeep, to get me to Pantwari, the village near Nag Tibba. I wasted no time, and hit the trail. I was carrying all my gear – tent, sleeping bag, clothes, food for two days and five litres of water. I even had a tripod, and two cameras, with a zoom lens! In hindsight, I didn’t need to carry much of it.

Pantwari village and fields, as seen from the ridge
The entire trek to Nag Tibba is a climb, as you gain fifteen hundred metres in a nine odd kilometre walk. There is no respite in the entire trek, as you continue ascending along a ridge. People do it in two days, when they do it with a group. I wanted to finish it in a day, for I had a return ticket to Delhi on Monday night. The weight of my sack, and the sapping sun made it tougher. I started at around eleven, and reached The Goat Village, which is about four kilometres from Pantwari, at half past one. I was supposed to stay here for the night, but because of poor phone connectivity I wasn’t able to get a confirmation. I decided not to take a chance, and carried my gear. This I was glad to dump here, and continue up towards the summit.

The rhododendron trail beyond Goat Village
After Goat Village, the climb is steeper. I started at quarter to two, and could already see people coming down. The break had given me a new life, and with my load lighter, I made it to the Nag Tibba temple by quarter to four. A beautiful campsite greets you here. It was teeming with people - a college group from Delhi was camping there. Some of them were heading up, and I followed them. I was out of steam by now, and the only thing driving me on was the satisfaction of finishing something I started. After what felt like eternity, but was only two hours of hard hike, I was at the top, with the flag fluttering in the evening breeze. The college students were having fun in the little snow that was remaining there. I spent a half hour clicking pictures, and getting warm. I couldn’t wait for sunset. It would be difficult walking this steep section in the dark. Going downhill was a relief, and I was down to the temple in no time. I continued onward, all on my own, as dusk turned to darkness. The forest was quiet, and I could hear my breathing, feel the weight of my steps, the beat of my heart.

The camping ground near Nag Tibba Temple
View from the Top of Nag Tibba
The sun sets as I descend from the summit
I was at the goat village at half past seven, with the last hour of descent in complete dark. My gracious hosts served me hot water, local ragi cookies and vegetable soup, all of which I gobbled down. I hadn’t had a proper meal since morning, and I was famished. Dinner was delicious, mutton curry and Harsil Rajma (local kidney beans) served with red rice and ragi roti. Over dinner I heard the owner’s vision and his story. They are doing some good work there, sourcing the farm produce, packaging and selling it as Bakri Chap product. I bought some of it from their local collection centre next day. That evening though, my mind was occupied with thoughts of a cosy bed to rest my aches.

At the Goat Village

Cottages in Goat Village

The dining and lounge area at Goat Village
I was lazy the next morning, reluctant to leave. The hike down with Rupesh – the owner, and his family was simple. I got lucky, and got a direct taxi from Pantwari to Dehradun. As our car moved from the mountains to the plains of Dehradun, the heartache for the mountains had already begun. Till next time my love!

Trek Details:
  • Nag Tibba is a 3000 m peak near Mussorie.
  • Base village is Pantwari. You can reach here by private taxi, or via Nainbagh. You can get a state transport bus to Nainbagh from Dehradun, or Mussoorie (Library Stand). From Nainbagh, you may get a shared taxi to Pantwari. Else, book one, if you are short on time
  • Mussorie – Nainbagh: 40 Km (1.5 hours). Nainbaghg – Pantwari: 16 Km (45 minutes)
  • There is not many water sources on the route, so carry enough water for the hike from the village itself
  • This trek can be done all year round, although in winter you may get some snow.


Kohoj Trek

There’s no blessing greater than being able to spend a day or two in the wilderness, away from the mayhem of the city, one with the elements of nature. The urge to unravel the unknown on your own is fascinating. So I reached out to friends and on Facebook.

Rahul was my co-conspirator in planning. He intended to bring his wife and three year old kid along too, for the trek wasn’t supposed tough. Also with us was Murali, another old timer.

On the D-day, it was just the three of us. We drove out via Ghodbunder road and then Ahmedabad highway, the rains greeting us in full glory. The clouds were hanging low, within touching distance. We had a customary stop at Vitthal Kamath to stock up our bellies before the burn.

Country Roads, Take Me Home!
We took a left from Manor to leave the hectic highway. The Manor-Wada road was padded with green of different shades. It’s a beauty to drive or bike on. At the toll, we asked for directions to Vaghote, the base village. Soon, we arrived there, parked, and were geared up to go.


A two kilometre walk through the countryside, dotted with ponds and paddy fields, brought us to the base. Here, after some curious question and answer with an ancient villager, we found our way to the lake. The mountain beyond it was enveloped in clouds. We decided not to take any villagers for guidance, trusting our instincts, route markers and some good samaritan to help us be on the right track.

Desi Philosopher
After crossing the dam waters, we entered the forest. There wasn’t any other person on the route, and the sounds of the forest entranced us. Rahul interrupted it with his chirping from time to time, and the heavens opened to soak us in nature. The initial climb was easy till we reached a fork. We took the path to the left and lost track of the markers. We encountered an abandoned sole, and made the incorrect assumption that we were on the right path. Soon we were deeper in the jungle with nowhere to go to.

We were horribly lost and I decided we needed Google’s help. Pop came out the phone in the downpour, sheltered in a flimsy Ziploc. I had entered Kohoj in Google Maps early morning, hoping that the place had a GPS marker. To my pleasant surprise, not just the fort, but the entire trail was visible! I thanked the person who marked it, and retraced our steps. We arrived at the fork, and found the clearly marked trail going up the mountain.

The route was steep from here. With the rain creating rivulets through the stone and mud, it wasn’t beginner level. There wasn’t any exposure, but endurance and the experience to walk in such terrain was required. I was happy we didn’t have any newcomers, and especially Pooja and Pratham (Rahul’s wife and son), for they would have been miserable.


I was enjoying myself, able to feel my heart thrumming within me, my muscles working overtime. Rahul was skipping ahead of us, his ultra-running fit body moving up the slopes with ease, while Murali and me toiled. After what seemed like eternity, but was actually only a half hour, we were on Kohoj plateau. It was 12, three hours since we started. We were walking in the clouds.
The smile of content!



A brief rest, and we were on our way to the top. We met some local boys, who spoiled the silence with their cacophony. They were there to work near the two temples. We decided to let them go ahead, and slowly climbed the broken steps of the fort to the top. The ghostly humanoid figures, which are the talismans of Kohoj, greeted us. I wanted to climb atop a ridge there, but it was slippery and I chickened out. 
To do or not to do, is the question!
It started raining, and all of us were famished. We decided to walk back to the plateau. Here we found a small ramshackle shed, which was too dirty for my taste (I would rather eat in the rain!). But we had our lunch there anyway. Theplas disappeared down our gullets in no time.
View of the lake and the surrounding area from above


It was now time to descend. Rahul took the lead and was running, hopping down boulders. I was cautious, determined to make it a no fall trek!  We reached the lake in an hour or so, and couldn’t resist taking a dip. Rahul swam a few short laps for the camera. Murali somehow managed not to drown, as he tried his hands at swimming as well. Or being rescued. The confidence that he showed initially, disappeared as he gasped and choked, while we were wondering whether he was laughing! I stayed in shallower waters, my backside resting in the soothing waters, enjoying the show.
The pro and the imposter

One off the bucket list eh! Or is  it the lake list ;)

Mountain in a gossamer of clouds


The tread back to the car was uneventful. More rain and traffic greeted us on the highway, but Rahul showed his Schumacher skills, and we were back in Mumbai at around five in the evening.


The joy of the wild was in us, and we would seek it again soon.


Details:
Date of Trek: 28th August, 2016
How to reach Vaghote - base village: Drive to Manor from Mumbai. Take a left, on to Manor Wada road. You reach a toll junction. The trail starts less than a kilometer from there. A white house on the right with a shed can be used for parking.
Trek Difficulty: Moderate
Time: 5-6 hours



Deluge






The midnight train is lashed with a barrage of bolts,
pricking and hurting my skin.
My eyes are mere slits, witnessing nature unwind. 
The heavens have opened up, and everyone is cowering down, 
under porches,sheds, hoods, and umbrellas. 
The raindrops' rage, a rancour on the roof. 
It muffles all sounds, emanating a persuasive silence. 
Water leaks and gushes out from holes, nooks and crannies, 
running away, joining its kin in countless streams. 
The leaves tremble in excitement.

Hoods and Umbrellas. Picture courtesy:  http://wonderfulmumbai.com



























The buildings are crying,
their makeup tainted by mould and moss.
The wind howls in uninhibited joy.
The cars groan and croak in endless traffic,
soaked and sputtering. The trees sway with gay abandon.
The air is charged, it infects our souls,
and the city comes alive after the parching summer.
The gods are weeping tears of mercy.
Mother earth smiles at this generous gift, green with glee.

Sodden sky drunk on drops. Pic courtesy: http://khanabeer.tumblr.com/

The Dust Never Settles


I am riding on the streets of Mumbai, our metropolitan financial capital. There is sewage flowing onto the road from an open drain. As I move ahead, there is a road being cemented. There are open mounds of sand lying by the road which swirl and rise with the wind. It settles on my skin in this sticky weather.

I am on the last leg of the Sandakphu trek, near Darjeeling, the queen of the hills. As I come down from Rammam to Sirikhola, the road is being widened. There is carnage on the mountainside. The greenery has been butchered. The earth’s being defiled by an earth mover, a demon of development. Rocks and mud lay strewn near the open wound. Stones and boulders roll down the barren slopes as we slip and slide our way to safety. A little further down the road I meet an elder who bemoans the lack of electricity, water and other supplies in the remote villages. I wonder if it will do any good. The previous evening I had come across piles of garbage callously being dumped by the local homestays into the forest. The responsible ones burn to get rid of it. I can’t decide which of the two is causing greater damage.

I am in Patna. An over bridge is being constructed. The narrow road is teeming with vehicles like crabs in a basket. They honk and spew black smoke. The roads have holes dug and open man-holes ready to swallow you. Dirt is synonymous with being out. I hop step and jump, keeping eyes fixed on the road below, rather than on the traffic around me, for fear of stepping into something disgusting. I finally reach home, and decide not to step out unless I am in a car.

I start from Guwahati, intending to cycle to Shillong in a day. The task is daunting, with a 1500 meter overall climb across 100 unforgiving kilometres. As I step out, a familiar haze greets me on a cool winter morning. The roads of the city are empty in the morning, and I am reach the highway quickly. The up-climb greets me, as do the dreaded dust and smoke. The road is being widened from a two to four lane highway. It is a dust bowl. The traffic is chaotic, with vehicles driving on either side of the newly four lane segments. Earth movers and workers with drills create a cacophony complemented by the vehicles whizzing past me from either side. Mud, rocks and earth roll down the sides of bleeding mountains. The soil poured on top of the tar road to dry it, flies into my eyes. The dilapidated trucks that go past emit soot from their exhausts, labouring beside me on up-slopes. I have covered my face fully with a thin towel, but my arms and legs are uncovered. By the time I reach Shillong, they are as black as the coal being loaded on the trucks on the way.

These are a few instances of the level of air pollution we face every day in India. We have got so used to the dust around us, that it doesn’t bother most of us, sitting in our closed rooms and air-conditioned cars. The few times that we step out in the open, we deplore the deteriorating traffic situation, the cause of all such evils. Then we just go about our normal lives unconcerned. Unfortunately, I am not able to do the same thing. I ride around on a cycle, or prefer to walk, so am exposed to the foul air that envelopes us. I am allergic to dust and smoke. This means that if I am in Mumbai, or Patna, or any other large town or city, I have a chronic cold and cough. I have a congestion that keeps getting worse, bordering on asthma. But I can’t coop myself indoors. The India outside is there to explore, and I risk going out. Slowly, the Mumbai I loved is losing its charm. I would rather be in the mountains, where my cold goes away, even during winters when I am most susceptible. I miss the movies, the friends, the internet, the mayhem. But I enjoy the fresh air of Sikkim or Shillong, and yearn to be in these places.

So why is there so much dust here? Is it because India is a developing nation, and we cannot really control the pollution, while there are other more important issues like the ever present poverty? Is it endemic to our tropical climate? Or is it because we are careless enough to dump construction material on the road uncovered? Is it because most of our mines work uncovered and unchecked? Is it due to the lack of pollution control in our cities and virtually no regulation in the smaller ones? Is it because of the flouting of the rules by all industries, for it saves money that lines the pockets of corporates, bureaucrats and politicians alike? Is it because most of our villages and towns are bare without much forestation and greenery, with the top soil being blown by the wind?

I think all of the above are just symptoms. The cause is something deeper, yet much simpler. It is our passive mind set, coupled with a myopic view. I think that is the cause of most of our problems. Let me explain how. We dust and wipe our houses crystal clean, yet we don’t think twice before dumping garbage on the road. This includes wrappers and other such things after we eat them. Chucking them as soon as we are finished is easy. We are not accountable. Sab chalta hai. But the garbage that we chuck confronts us as we step on the road for anything. We bemoan the dust lining everything in our house every day, even though we clean it repeatedly. We don’t remember that you just swept it out of the door. With the breeze it slowly flies back in. We don’t think twice before dumping a pile of sand on the road for construction. But when the same sand flies into our face, we blame the government. We cut trees, and build mines and roads. We don’t think of planting and maintaining foliage along the roads or around the mines afterwards. It requires effort and application to keep a balance between development and nature. It is much easier to just plunder and move on. We are used to that as a species. Unfortunately, with the growing population, it has become unsustainable. Our needs have grown too. We want more houses, more cars. Each of them chips away at our resources slowly. The financial pundits will talk about how the materialism benefits our economy. I suggest they start breathing notes and eating and drinking coins.


Austerity and compassion have been preached and practised in our land by the sadhus for centuries. We talk about preserving our culture. Yet we are blindly running after the greed and consumerism promoted by the west. We don’t really care what happens to the environment, as long as we are comfortable, not affected directly. There is lack of collective will to get us out of this mess. We have resigned ourselves to the worsening quality of air, water and other critical resources. If we really need to look westwards, shouldn’t we try and follow the way Germany is moving to solar and wind energy? Or how Sweden is completely garbage free, and imports garbage for electricity generation? How Copenhagen and Amsterdam are largely car-free, bicycle friendly cities? I am not saying we model ourselves on any of these countries. I want us to aspire to be like these forerunners, with changes in our setup to facilitate such steps. We need to “Make this India” a better country to live in. Each of us need to make an effort from our side to achieve this. May the dust never settle on this debate.

A poem by paash

FROM THE POEMS OF PAASH:

मेहनत की लूट सबसे ख़तरनाक नहीं होती
पुलिस की मार सबसे ख़तरनाक नहीं होती
ग़द्दारी और लोभ की मुट्ठी सबसे ख़तरनाक नहीं होती
बैठे-बिठाए पकड़े जाना बुरा तो है
सहमी-सी चुप में जकड़े जाना बुरा तो है
सबसे ख़तरनाक नहीं होता
कपट के शोर में सही होते हुए भी दब जाना बुरा तो है
जुगनुओं की लौ में पढ़ना
मुट्ठियां भींचकर बस वक्‍़त निकाल लेना बुरा तो है
सबसे ख़तरनाक नहीं होता

सबसे ख़तरनाक होता है मुर्दा शांति से भर जाना
तड़प का न होना
सब कुछ सहन कर जाना
घर से निकलना काम पर
और काम से लौटकर घर आना
सबसे ख़तरनाक होता है
हमारे सपनों का मर जाना

King's Fort – Rajgad



As it pulled out on the busy streets of Pune on a Monday morning, the familiar vibrations of the ST bus aroused in me an elation that I have been missing. Back on the road again, alone, with little knowledge of the area, ready for a new adventure. No car, no companions, just a handful of information from the net, and a hope to spend a day in nature's territory. A bright orange sun, and wild orange flowers lining both sides of the road, made for a perfect start.

Lulled to sleep in a crowded bus, I woke up and got down at Margasane, still 6 Km from base, with an arduous road walk ahead of me. Breakfast at a road side hotel separated a hitchhiked ride in a car, and an unexpected ST to the base village, Gunjavane. I was already psyched having glimpsed the fort in the distance. A helpful Kaka gave me directions for the route, and I hit the track at around 11.

The Chor Darwaja route to Rajgad is considered challenging with steep, narrow patches at the end. The red road from behind the ST stand is quite prominent and cannot be missed. I followed it as advised and reached the ridge that would lead me to the top of the fort. The route was fairly easy, and the weather favourable – sunny but breezy. The area is densely forested, and wild flowers were in full bloom. As I reached a plateau, the royal ramparts revealed themselves to me, it's towering walls making me nervous. The gradient increased beyond that point, and my lack of fitness was exposed
 
Majestic Rajgad

The bee encounter

As I was panting up the incline, an inquisitive bee took a liking to me. Perchance it mistook me for a bright red smelly flower! First it perched itself on the red shirt. Then as I held my breath, it hopped on to my hand. I stayed dead still – there were many others bees around, and a single bite would lead to another. The painstaking few seconds passed by as I felt its feet and probe tingling my skin. It skipped to my pants, and then started buzzing around me. I covered my head with my bag and decided to make a run for dear life! Thankfully I was able to shrug it off. But the rest of the journey I was paranoid about any faint buzz in my ears.
View from the steep patch
View from Chor Darwaja
I was out of breath, my legs feeling like dead weight, as I reached the steep patch. I clambered up using the railings for support shamelessly. The rock climber in me was disgusted. Regardless, I was at the entrance at 12:15. Success! And in good time too – around one and a half hours. A couple of old ladies near Padmavati Talao served me delightful tak (butter milk), which I gulped down greedily.

Padmavati Talao
Nandi

Suvela Machi and Chilakhti Buruj in the distance
I trudged ahead without wasting any more time. The fort is immense – perhaps the largest in Maharashtra. It was the seat of Shivaji before he moved to Raigad. The main fort – Bale Killa loomed large in front of me. I lumbered along the broken steps, wary of the clouds building up. The view from the top was breathtaking as it always is. A few click happy moments later, I was on my way down.

Bale Killa
Ardh Chandrakar Talao


Going Down: Pali Darwaja
My feet were tired by now, and my body refused to move. My toes hurt, and my knees were killing me. I write it down, lest I forget. Train harder, you idiot! I felt like an old man trudging the giagantic steps down Pali Darwaja, the more common “Raj Marg” route to Vajeghar. The walk was tedious, as the path changed from slippery mud to gravel to tar. I was in civilzation again, after spending four happy hours away from it. If only, I could just stay here, without any worries or attachments.
View of Rajgad from Raj Marg route, with Bale Killa standing tall

I spotted a lone bike and to my delight he stopped on seeing me. I muttered something in broken Marathi, and so I got a ride to the Velhe – Nasrapur road. I was not looking forward to the tar road walk to the next village, where I would wait for the ST. But it was my lucky day. I got another lift all the way to Nasrapur, in a Scorpio. It was with Babu Sahab Jagtap, a local politician, and his happy go lucky friends. When I told them I had just come after finishing the Rajgad trek, they were in awe. They were quite curious about me, and I was hit by a volley of question in Hindi/Marathi/English. One of them wanted to know my “cost!” (caste) too. I sat listening to their banter, smiling yet uncomfortable. I knew they meant no harm. They offered to help me out the next time I was in that area. But I was glad to be back out on the road, in the familiar din of an ST, and on my way back home.

A cold shower later, a blissful sleep betook me, bringing an end to a day well spent.

Trek Details:

Fort: Rajgad
District: Pune
Taluka: Bhor
Distance: 60 Km (Gunjavane), 65 Km (Vajeghar) (All distances from Pune)
How to Reach:
  1. Take the 8 o'clock ST to Velhe from Swargate, and get down at Nasrapur / Margasane. From there, get a local vehicle to Sakhar, and futher to Gunjavane. Alternate option: Take the direct 9 o'clock ST to Gunjavane to avoid any hassles.
  2. Regular ST leave each hour for Vajeghar, the base village for the common “Raj Marg” route.
Trek Route: From Gunjavane ask anyone for the “Chor Darwaja” route. You can't miss it from behind the ST stand – it goes up the hill to the ridge. Follow the path – it will lead you to the ridge. Form the ridge the route is fairly straight forward. Alternately, you can climb up or down from Vajeghar village. The route is a broad track which can't be missed, called the “Raj Marg”. Leads to Pali Darwaja.
Trek Duration: To reach the top – Around two hours. To explore the fort – two hours.
Fort has 4 sections: 1. Padmavati Machi (Chor Darwaja and Pali Darwaja lead here)
2. Bale Killa (Main fort, Talao)
3. Sanjeevani Machi (Torna Darwaja, and way to Torna)
4. Suvela Machi (Nedhe and Chilakhti Buruj)