Like most of India, Rishikesh can be too hot and too crowded. The smell of cow pies is easy to handle, especially after living for an extended time in upstate New York. But the smell of the open sewer, children and sadhus’ excrement in the street mixed with heat and humidity is different. Maybe if the air wasn’t so humid the stench would drift away, but instead it sticks to you creating a film on your body that requires at least two to four showers a day. It’s true that the yoga and meditation in this place are the best, and that the rapid flowing Ganges River cleanses your soul as it makes its way out of the Himalayas towering above. Still, after some time in Rishikesh, a vacation from a vacation is needed. Why we decided that Gangotri would be a good getaway is still unclear. With our new Canadian friends, Janie and Anie, Nicole and I decided a trek to the glacier where the Ganges originates high in the Himalayas would refresh our core temperature and provide some nice scenery. The road up is one lane, partly paved, with endless switchbacks, covered in landslides, and blocked by the occasional truck that has lost its footing and rolled down the hill. We opted for the jeep (9 hours) over the bus (14 hours) thinking it would be more comfortable. With our bags lightly tied to the roof and 13 people in the jeep we were delighted to have at least one butt cheek on the seat. Several toilet breaks, lunch, some vomit out the window, and multiple near death experiences later, we arrived in Gangotri.
Gangotri, surrounded by snow capped peaks, is home to the end of the road in the mountains. The hike to Tapovan and back is a three day trip into a national park. Accommodations include tents and the special of the day is rice and chocolate (all packed in). The trek is 46 kilometers roundtrip. The Indian Forest Service allows 150 visitors into the park at any one time and a permit is required. Getting the permit requires dealing with some Indian bureaucracy. We were told there were no available permits for 10 days. Luckily in India there is always baksheesh (we call this a ‘bribe’) to speed things up. Our mountain guide, Munna, took care of this for us for a nominal fee of 500 Rs. (10 USD), and in two days we were on the trail. The hike up was only dangerous in locations where a landslide of rocks and boulders had wiped out the trail bringing it down the mountain into the teal-colored Ganges below. Out of the 150 people in the park we were some of the only Westerners. Most trekkers we encountered were Indian pilgrims making their way to one of India’s most holy places. The wealthier Indians had porters (poor Indians who don’t speak English [speaking English guarantees employment as a guide]) carrying their stuff, the really wealthy Indians were rode donkeys, while the really really wealthy (or perhaps lazy) were carried up in chairs strapped to the backs of porters.
By dusk we made it to our base camp which consisted of tents covered in plastic. Our hosts served us chai and rice, which we consumed sitting on the floor of the kitchen tent, rejuvenating us for the climb the following day. The morning temperature of 35 degrees Fahrenheit was motivation for the day’s ascent to Gomukh glacier and the Tapovan meadow above it. A few people along the way told us not to go to Tapovan, because they said that crossing the glacier was too dangerous due to caved in areas (and in truth, the dead body being carried down the trail was compelling evidence). Still, others told us we must make the climb because it is too beautiful to miss. We had a guide who was willing to go all the way so we went. A glacier is a small obstacle when it leads to external vistas and an internal calm brought on by standing in the middle of a mountain range. The climb to Tapovan brought us to over 14000 feet and left me a little lightheaded and really empty of all the thoughts that had kept my brain occupied during the grueling climb.
The silent baba, a 22 year old, who lives on Tapovan and has taken a ten year vow of silence, greeted us with rice, chai, and a spot to rest at his ashram. I spent some of my time on Tapovan taking photos (over 100 in all), but the best snapshots were imprinted in my mind. Written by Allan.
Silent Baba is wearing all black.
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