I flew to Pokhara from Kathmandu on May 18 and drove north on the highway which connects the city to the town of Jomsom and the ancient temple of Muktinath, just across the Himalayan range. The route follows the Kali Gandaki river.
Freezing waters of Nilgiri river (Photo: Shyam Saran)
The first stop on my travels was Tapopani, which has several hot springs as the name indicates. The settlement, which boasts several modern guest houses and restaurants, is a convenient halt on the way to Muktinath. I came across car-loads of Indians heading north to claim their “mukti”.
Nilgris from Annapurna North Base Camp (Photo: Shyam Saran)
The next morning, I had to change to a four-wheel drive for a two-hour journey to Hum Khola, from where I would start walking. The road was narrow, muddy, and back-breaking, and the driver was out to display his daredevil skills in negotiating its hair-raising bends. My trekking support team had joined us at Tatopani with all our supplies of food, tents, cooking utensils, and even gas cylinders. It is a wonder one of them did not fall off and roll down the hill! But “mukti” finally came with our arrival at Hum Khola, which also is the site of a medium-size hydroelectric project.
Mountains reflected in Panchkunda Lake (Photo: Shyam Saran)
Large machines, earth-movers, and cables were strewn all around us. The mountain rivers are being mined both for stones and sand for construction. The environmental damage is huge even though there will be power to benefit remote communities. With newer technologies and better management, this apparent contradiction between development and environmental integrity could be minimised, if not avoided altogether.
Annapurna Barahashikhar (Photo: Shyam Saran)
The trek over the next few days was truly exhilarating with nature displaying its myriad marvels at every step. The route follows the course upstream of the Nilgiri river, also known locally as the Mystik river. The river rises from the enormous glaciers of the Nilgiris and Annapurna mountains. There were some steep inclines, testing my muscles. There was intermittent rain but mostly interspersed by longer sunny spells. Only on the last few kilometres of walking was there heavy rain and one had to take shelter under rocky outcrops or caves along the route. One went from tropical to sub-tropical and finally beyond the tree-line to an arid landscape all within the space of three days. The Nilgiri river kept us company throughout, displaying its changing moods, plunging in cascades over vertical rock-faces, then rushing over massive rocks with their surfaces polished into intricate linear and circular patterns.
Annapurna Massif as seen from Bhusketmala (Photo: Shyam Saran)
The Annapurna Base Camp emerges through a cleft between high snow-capped mountains, revealing an exquisite turquoise lake -- the Panchkunda (Five Springs). When we arrive at its shores, its tranquil waters convey a sense of great serenity. The lake is rimmed by and reflects a crescent of high mountains, clothed in the whitest of white snow. In my several treks into the high mountains, I feel, simultaneously, a deep humility in the midst of such ethereal immensity; at the same time an expansion of the spirit that the same immensity inspires. Silence in these realms has a different quality, sharpening one’s senses in unfamiliar ways.
Annapurna North Massif (Photo: Shyam Saran)
The next morning, I head towards Maurice Herzog’s original base camp, which is further up at 4,190 metres. There is a small memorial to him and a little further, there is a pile of stones and prayer flags, which mark the highest point of our trek. While clouds play hide-and-seek, there are clear spells when the massive north face of the Annapurna reveals itself, its snows glinting in the sun. Behind me are the high peaks of the Nilgiris north and central, matching the Annapurna in its vastness. Below is the lake, its waters deep blue with chunks of ice floating near its shores.
Icicles near Base Camp (Photo: Shyam Saran)
I spent the rest of the day exploring the shores of the lake and climbing up to vantage points from where one could see the mountains more clearly. But nature has a way of reminding you of its power and of human vulnerability. There was pelting rain and hail at night and then a perfect storm with very high winds sweeping down from the mountains. I remained safe in my tent, but the porters had to secure it by putting large stones all along its rim. The dining tent and the toilet tent were blown quite a distance away from our camp and had to be retrieved the next morning. But the morning was tranquil and the air washed clean by the rain. The mountains had fresh snow on them and the lake was a deeper shade of blue. Nature had put on a dazzling display to bid farewell and its imprint lies embedded in my mind, to be conjured up whenever one needs to elevate one’s spirit.
Nilgiri central face (Photo: Shyam Saran)
The return journey was largely uneventful with that slow unwinding that trekkers feel, bracing oneself for re-connecting with the bustling world one had temporarily left behind. There is regret that an elevating experience had come to a close but, in all honesty, the prospect of a hot shower, the comfort of a bed with clean sheets, and the anticipation of a hot and tasty meal, all these are delights that entice too. Until the mountains beckon again.
The writer is a former foreign secretary and an avid trekker
 "Shyam Saran")
