Getting to the Start

 

So I left Srinagar on 10^th August and was very lucky to get a lift with Chris and Kamala Zandee who run a company called Himalaya Cheeses. Chris is one of those entrepreneurs who makes Gouda cheese near Pahalgam. He has encouraged the gudgers of the area to provide him with the milk and has shown them the technology for making a high valued cheese. They have overcome many difficulties and amazedly are permanently entrenched in the Kashmiri lifestyle. There are not many examples of Europeans developing businesses that I know of in Kashmir.

So with an early start I get to Anantnag at 9am and get used to the rucksack as I walk through town. I must be out of condition as it feels heavy and the arches of my feet hurt. Oh yes lucky I remember to get some money out of the atm for as it turned out there were no other opportunities until right at the end of my trip when I reached Kargil.

I decide to get to my starting point which is Atholi to the east of Kishtwar by going via Sinthen Top. I know from my old map (Indian Himalaya Maps –Sheet1, Jammu and Kashmir published by Leoman Maps) that this used to be a walking trail used by gudgers and horsemen for many years but like so much of the Himalayas has now been turned into a road.

 

 

Hitch-hiking

 

Just out of town I managed to get a lift towards Vailoo which seemed at the time the best way to get to Kishtwar. This way takes you via Sinthon Top and I can assure you isn’t a very frequented way although I presume the shortest way as the crow flies.

First lift took me some distance in a sort of a shared taxi I think. Then a yoghurt delivery ute with a smart guy called Ubaid who went to Vailoo. After Vailoo on the same road that one would take to go to Margen Pass the country gets quite pretty. But the hitch hiking wasn’t straightforward and I had to work hard to make the rest of my miles to Kishtwar. Never the less I was in good spirits maybe simply as a result of getting away from the congestion and hot and dusty weather of Srinagar.

As I walked up the road out of Vailoo a very nice local guy took me a few kms . This was followed by a shared taxi to Daksum. After his other customers got out he offered to take me to Kishtwar for 3000 rupees which I declined. I then had a reasonably serious walk on a road that was rapidly climbing. Again the question of condition raised its ugly head as I was finding it hard walking with a full rucksack in sandals . Surprisingly there was very little traffic (so obviously not the best way to get to Kishtwar) and what few cars drove past seemed to be full of tourists. But as my notes say “fuck it, who cares, the air is beautiful, the deodar trees are now around me and the gudgers are camped in the valleys.”

The road straightens out and it looks like as good as any place to sit and wait for a lift. Sprawled out under a tree with my backpack as a pillow I get out my standard time absorber meaning my Kindle and then along comes my ride with a group of Hindu pilgrims. They fitted me in and as often is the case with Hindus questioned me endlessly in a garrulous sort of way. Four business men, 1 driver and three women. The driver was particularly obnoxious which became apparent when we stopped at a ‘dharba’ half way up to Sinthon top. Let me have your watch he asked. I explained it is only an Indian Sonata watch and not worth much and he could get his own. This often happens when you are visibly showing some piece of equipment and their presumptuous attitude that everything will be given just by asking gets on my nerves.

They didn’t even go to the top but turned around at the first snow. I left them gladly and started walking. Then Vikas and his wife and daughter came in a small car. He is a police constable stationed in Srinagar and she is a teacher in Jammu. I took to them immediately but alas our overlap was only of a small duration as we reached Sinthon top in a few minutes. They invited me to eat with them but it was cold at the top approaching 5pm and I wanted to get down off the mountain before dark. The road going down though wasn’t in good shape and compared with the going up lacked traffic. Lots of doglegs in the road which I could circumvent by following the foot trail. But soon realised that sandals weren’t much use and put my boots on. The few cars that did pass were either police cars or connected with the upgrading of the road.

As much as I took these shortcuts I couldn’t seem to catch up with the few cars that were descending. I now came to a part of the ridges where some serious trekking would be necessary before I intercepted the road again well down into the valley. Time to get my walking stick out not only to assist in the descent but to ward off any dogs that my like to eat part of my leg. Late afternoon but beautiful country and much more so after I got off the road. Road makers in India are not very considerate of their environment and while a road of sorts might be the eventual outcome sides of roads and such like are usually pretty awful.

These walking shoes of mine are pretty tight. So to help you must have them tied quite tight. The descent too proves that my calves need some tuning up. On the descent I carefully avoid the gudgers camps mainly to avoid the dogs. All goes well and as I approach the road once again a Beacon truck with workers returning to camp sees me and waits. Luxury of luxury they put me in the driver’s cabin and not on the back which is full of workers.

The driver’s name is Kerala-gay and of course he is from Kerala. He is a really nice guy and at the first camp he shows me into his quarters . I think to myself well it looks like I will be staying here tonight but no that doesn’t happen. He brings me a cup of water followed by a hot cup of sweet tea and then puts me on a second truck. This one is driven by a Begali I think. Finally a third truck  takes me to Chatroo. Chattroo is the only real village in the valley and seems to be populated entirely with Muslims.

I arrived in Chatroo in the late afternoon. There is a rest house in this town probably more set up for V.I.P’s rather than for someone me. It is in a rather nice place with a police station just across the road and a school next door. All of this is just off the main road with a police or army checkpoint at the junction to the main road. I am looking forward to getting cleaned up and something to eat but alas I cannot find anyone who has a key. I have decided to stay here rather than proceed on to Kishtwar. Whilst Kishtwar is quite a big regional town it seems a little run down to me with accommodation lacking and a sort of dry and dusty place. Chatroo however is still in the mountains with deodars and snow covered mountains still visible .

As I can’t get in I decide to satisfy my second desire which is namely to get something to eat. There is one restaurant just down the road from hopefully my accommodation. A few of the locals gather around whilst I am trying to get something to eat. Koker the policeman is with me and he seems quite a nice guy. (it turns out that Koker came from the Marwah valley- the valley I have written about many times.)

However the rest of the company that joins up with me seem surly. And the conversation is led by a young political inspired teacher. He speaks pretty good English but it soon seems to me that certain antagonisms prevail along the lines of Muslims versus Christians. Of course I become uncomfortable and eventually give up trying to get something to eat from this place. From the shop across the road I pick up some nibblys and return to my room.

Eventually the key man shows up. Probably most of the problems getting into my Accommodation were that I turned up just as Ramadan was finishing. Once in I am able to relax have a shower and generally unwind.

The next morning I am refreshed and I little more organised. All my electricals (camera, iphone, kindle ) have been charged and my rucksack is better organised. I set off walking as it is early and little transport seems to be on the road. I am also keen to get my legs back in condition in anticipation of the difficult walk coming up. It is reasonably easy walking as the road is going downhill. I am enjoying myself, I can feel my freedom, I feel once again youthful. (s you get older the greater the illusions) . The road runs in the same direction of the river which is to my right. Very steep deodar covered slopes are visible on the other side of the river with houses perched in every usable place. You look up the slopes and where it is steep there will be forests but on the saddles or less steep land there are settlements or even individual houses. The houses are connected by trails. Very few houses have road connections. And in some places the Government is trying to make roads but some of them have collapsed and fallen down the hillside. Most have no electricity and even getting to the road on this side can be difficult as the footbridges are few and far between.

The Beacon road building crew come past and pick me up . Presumably they have come down to pick up workers from the town of Maidan. I should mention that many ads have been written on the walls looking for workers. I guess job opportunities don’t come up too often. But it was still good to see that employment opportunities were being offered to the locals rather than just getting workers from other parts of India. In Maidan I manage to get a bit of breakfast – tea, bread cooked in oil, chutney and a couple of bananas.

The rest of the trip to Kishtwar is relatively easy with a shared taxi taking me there. It is quite a full taxi and we never seem to say no to more passengers. But my driver extends great hospitality to me and the front seat remains relatively empty. Kishtwar is at a much lower altitude 1634m; even lower than Anantnag. To get there the road descends to the junction of the Chatru River which I have been following and the Marau River which comes from the Marwah Valley. At this point the forests have disappeared and I would describe the land as scrubby. The road crosses another river the Bhaga River which I will follow to get to Atholi when I leave Kishtwar.

It then climbs a steep ridge up a dangerous road just hanging on the side of the mountain before dropping into Kishtwar township which is nestled in rolling hills. As I said before I always felt sort of unwelcomed in Kishtwar. It is a large town not particularly well serviced with intellectual matter such as communications, newspapers, books or the internet. So if you don’t speak Kashmiri, Urdu or Hindi you can feel somewhat isolated. So I didn’t attempt to stay but caught the next shared taxi to Atholi. This is an area of Kashmir that I really think is beautiful.

Last time I took a bus from Atholi to Kishtwar. It seemed at the time fairly hair raising as the road often had rock overhangs or was precariously perched over steep slopes which fell into the Bhaga River. Going in the shared jeep was crowded but seemed much more manageable than the bus and besides which the driver was careful not at all like the driver from Maidan to Kishtwar.

We were stopped by an army roadblock. Major Tarum explained that I shouldn’t go any further as there had been trouble in the area. But eventually he acquiesces and we exchanged photos and then off we went. I got off before Atholi as I wanted to make contact with some people that I had met years ago. I couldn’t find them but enjoyed the rest of my walk into Atholi. I was however ver glad to get there as it was very hot day and not anything in the way of food again Ramadan was helping my diet. However Atholi had food and friendly people to be with.

Hurrah! and that finishes this section namely getting to the start of my trek. The next part of this story follows in my post Umassi La -the climb begins. Hope you enjoy it and let me know how I might improve my articles by giving you the information that you want not just on this post  but on whatever.