At The Shaolin Temple

At The Shaolin Temple

16 mins
212


The downpour seemed never-ending, to my annoyance. Cold shivers ran down my spine. I wished that I should have left the rucksack on, to retain warmth. The raindrops trickling from the leaves of the old banyan tree. A mangy dog rubbed his back and edged close to me. The rain rode on the gust, aimlessly, drenching me to the bone. There was no escape.


I recalled the early morning train to Lonavala. I had walked to the bus station to put on my shorts. The load on my back was around 25kg. I had put on my windcheater and walked out, well prepared to get soaked. The strangest thing about this strange journey is that it began with a word. “Solo”. I had chosen to be alone on this journey; a trek to Rajmachi fort. It was to prepare myself for a bigger ordeal, Solo expedition in the Himalayas after the Advance course at Manali. The hike along the dam backwaters into the valley was eventless. I enjoyed the waterfalls that played hide and seek through the mist. The lush green forestry dripped with morning dew. The drizzle in the morning had helped to ease the burden of the sack and I had felt fresh. I had reached the Rajmachi fort. I had started back after an hour’s rest, crossing the streams on the way. As the rainfall re-started, I sought shelter under the tree.


I glanced at the rivulets that formed beneath me in a pool of water. Each drop created a disturbance of itself. Was it the same with the human mind? The calmness of the mind disrupted by thoughts or the feeling of discomfort. The tree had sheltered me from the downpour. The tiny drops were now a nuisance. What if the tree did not exist?


My body was only getting colder, and the better way was to continue. I crouched to pick up my sack. “It is all in the mind. No level of comfort can please a human mind forever.” With a heave, I slung the sack and walked out into the torrent, planning for the expedition. It would be just like this in the Himalayas. “Comfort is all in the mind. Comparisons with a worse situation help to build a cocoon. For this, I should face tough situations through my training.”


I walked thoroughly drenched into the bus station and changed into passable clothes, disregarding the glances of people around. Perhaps, Buhl had been through this too. Hermann Buhl and Reinhold Messenger were my role models. My thoughts raced at the pace of the train, my hair blew down the face with the draft. My eyes searched the compartment for imaginary holds and crevices. I hardly realized my empty stomach and my mind raced around my plans. I would buy equipment and food after the course and attempt Mt Manali. A week’s climb seemed viable for a solo expedition. The fear of being alone was not bothering. Would I be able to erect the triangular tent, alone, in a blowing wind? Another worry was Size 11 Climbing boots.


I remembered the ordeal at Sinhagad a week before. I had climbed a 45 feet rock with a laden sack. The descent was tough, and I had to choose an easier route. In the Himalayas, there would be no escape routes. Perhaps I could simply fling my sack down the slope and retrieve it later after climbing down.


As the train entered Pune, announcements echoed in the station and I was back to reality. The super thoughts vanished, and I was now just another face in the mob.


The Jhelum express had conveyed me to Pathankot. I reached the bus station and there were 4 hours to kill till the night bus left for Kullu. I had plenty of time to kill and observed fellow passengers. A couple of twin German girls waited for a bus to Dalhousie got plenty lot of attention from everyone (and me, of course). An “Ayurvedic” swindler was trying to sell some ointment that would remove the plaque and decay from the teeth. He was very good at marketing the stuff and sold 6 bottles in a single bus.

“No. I do not have bad teeth. I do not want to try it. Thanks!”

He waited patiently for my bus and his would-be customers. Meanwhile, the eye candy German twins had vanished.


The solitude forced me to think, why I was alone. It was a conflict of personal priorities that Milind, Girish and I were facing. Milind was making moves to secure a higher post in another department. Girish was busy with exams. We just could not find any time to get together for a climb. I refused to believe that this was the end of climbing for us. I had to get the advance certificate so that I could lead expeditions. Further, I was weak at rock climbing and had absolutely no awareness of Advance techniques and gear. My investment would pay off for the three of us.

The solitude was making me stronger. The rebel was more rebellious, without a team. If our band had disbanded, I should get stronger to pursue my passion, alone. With luck, this would get my friends, back into climbing! I was carrying plenty of cash and I was alone. Credit cards were unheard of. Traveler checks had to be cashed in state banks. National holidays and weekends put me at more risk if I ran into an emergency. At every bus stop, I had to climb out of my bus window to check my Haversack. I did not get a wink of sleep that night, till I dismounted the next morning at Manali. The Orchards on the side of the road were pregnant with Rosy Apples. Manali had not developed into a commercial tourist hub. It was due to the simplicity of the village, I had developed an immediate liking for the place. My hotel close to the Bus station had the floor of varnished wood, wooden furniture, and closets. 


During my evening walk along the turbulent Beas, I saw a plaque that showed the institute was a few miles further down the road. I felt like the monk at the Shaolin temple who reached his destination.


After a short walk, avoiding temptations, I reached the Mountaineering institute ‘No Smoking’ signs were displayed at many places. Fire hazard was a serious threat to the Heritage building. I walked into the room that was secured for the advance course. It had a few bunk beds. I claimed my place and put on the shoes. The Tibetan looking lad was barely 19 years old. He beamed at me and introduced it. “Dorje. Dorje Tundup.” Dorje wore a T-shirt that protested. FREE LADAKH FROM KASHMIR. Dorje was from Ladakh, a man born to climb. I had a vague idea of Ladakh though I was better aware of the Kashmir situation, I was aware that most of the Ladakhis were peaceful people. The Banner told me that all was not rosy at Ladakh.


I asked Dorje if he was willing to join me for bouldering. He happily agreed. We walked to the boulder field behind the Institute. I observed that Dorje was quick on his feet and exceptionally well balanced. He had weaker arms, but he used his strengths well.

I asked, “Did you climb any major peaks? I am going to attempt Mt Manali after the course.”

Dorje: "I climbed only two peaks. The big one is Mamotsong Kangri which is 23,000’.

I was impressed at the utter disregard that he treated a major climb. It was like a day in his life task.

I asked, “Would you like to join me for climbing Mt Manali?”

He answered, “We should think about big things in life. Why spend time in approaching small peaks if you can do the same in a week in Ladakh.”


Dorje was younger than me by 6 years. But he had opened my eyes to think big and dream bigger. We struck an instant friendship. Even if I did not go ahead with my climb, I still needed to purchase gear for future expeditions. I had my eyes on a pair of Goretex approach-march shoes in the Tibetan market. The Old Tibetan Lady had not budged to my offer of Rs 750/- Perhaps Dorje would negotiate better? We walked to the Tibetan market and Dorje opened the talk in Tibetan. The Old woman was watching me all the time. I gathered from the tone of the conversation that she knew that I was using my new friends to bargain, and she stuck to the price of Rs 1000/-. Dorje finally managed to close the deal at Rs 800/-. The Shop owner still cribbed about the quality of the boots and maintained that she had cut her profit to benefit a Mountain climber. Dorje then took me to a Tibetan hotel where we had a dish of Thupka and Momos.


The first few days flew, and we never had time to bathe. The training sessions were so hectic that many of us complained of no bowels. The instructors said, “It's good. You are consuming every bit that you eat. Perhaps it’s just too many apples.” I had always thought that the apples had a good cleansing effect or was I wrong to think so.


The Daily schedule was packed to the brim with a morning workout, Equipment handling, Weather forecasting, and rock-climbing sessions. By Bedtime, we still had to complete create a write-up for a plan of the expedition for any nearby peak by studying the map. I chose to write on Deo Tibba. After Dorji’s chat, I felt that Mt Manali was not suitable enough for the advance course candidate. My “project submission” was done and I joined the line to collect my equipment. During the equipment distribution, I was shocked to find 10-point crampons in my kit. How would I climb steeper walls if I had no front points?


The next day, someone mentioned that the log bridge was washed away, and we may have to stay at Bakhartaj. This was the highest spot that shepherds grazed the cattle. Higher above, the vegetation was thinner. As soon as we erected the tents, heavy rain started. We had luckily dug gutters around the tent and were saved of the water seepage. Dinner was served in the midst of heavy rain. Chapati and Vegetable were served and were immediately disintegrated into an unpalatable moldy mess. My training in the rains was useful, but there was no return on investment to relish a nice warm dinner after a day trek.


We crossed the log bridge and climbed the grassy slopes that converged into a glacial moraine. This was closer to the glacier, where we would be training for ice and snow craft. Negi the quartermaster was my tent mate. During the talk, he mentioned that he was studying for the IAS where the Advance certificate carried a lot of value for the overall score. I was amused as I only lost my vacation and money to get a certificate that would only provide more fuel to my crazy climbing pursuits, eventually to lose more money and perhaps a slower progress in the corporate ladder for the “abnormal behavior”; whereas, these guys were getting true return on their “investment”. A large part of their fees was waived off being Himachal citizens. Yet, it was good to have the Quartermaster as a mate as he would get in some of the foodstuffs from the Kitchen tent.


The next day we climbed up the glacier for a lesson was on Self-arrest. Self-arrest techniques are important for climbers:

During a fall from a face, the climber must decelerate the fall and stop or during a fast descent, the climbers can glissade down a slope and put on the brakes using the ice ax.


The slope was around 45 degrees. My First glissade was in sitting position I sled down the slope and braked when the instructor shouted to stop. This was easy. But Life is not easy! So, I climbed up again. The next step: I slept on my chest head facing down the slope and ice ax held above the head. As my friend let go, I rushed down the slope accelerating. My heart pounding to hear the “STOP” signal. I dug the pick on the side and the body swung. I forced the shaft deep into the snow. “Wow! This was something. And it works too.” As I was thinking of what could be worse than a head-down position, I was asked to climb up the mound again. This time, I was asked to sleep on my back, my friend held me by my shoes.

“Oh, God!” I saw the blue sky and the rock walls tower above me.” I was scared. I knew that this was going to be tough. “GO.” I slid down on my back, gathering speed my ears yearned to hear the “STOP”. This was exactly the position if I ever fell on my back. “STOP!!” I rolled to the chest down position. 

This time, the speed was too much. I dug the pick of the ax, as soon as I rolled and swung. Crack!! The ax came off. I hit harder as I slid and again and again. The slide stopped. As I stood up and I did not have to put my hand on my chest to hear the heartbeat. I could feel the throb above my ears. I shook off the snow from inside the jacket. Now, I could do the same for my mate!


Climbing using two ice hammers was the lesson after two pitons climbing. This was very awkward with the ten-point crampons. I ended up doing a long series of scratches on the ice The Axes dig well but the feet don’t listen! I found that the left arm was not used to hammering the pick, at all. The pick came off and I slid down.

“Shame on you! This is not expected from an Advance course cadet.”


I held my head low. Dorjee tried to cajole me. I was sure to make a better effort only if I had 12-point crampons. My Instructor danced on the vertical wall on the front points, without his Ice ax. It seemed so easy for him. Was he reading my thoughts when he loaned his crampons to me? I found that looks could be deceiving. It’s easy to covet other's prosperity, but it is difficult to live in their shoes. Ice craft needs practice. Every kick into the hard Ice caused a pain in my toes. Less forceful the kick, lesser the purchase, more the slippage. The kick should be well angled and impactful.


The peak chosen for the summit attempt was Mt Ladakhi that offers average rock and snow climbing. The important aspect was height gain and to gauge the team performance at High altitude. Dorjee had teamed with me and Raj. The team climbed along a long ridge to Mt Shitidhar. The summit camp was erected. The cook brewed some hot Maggi Noodles in the pressure cooker. The “2-minute noodles” needed 30 minutes to cook, in a cooker.


It was 4 AM when Bed Tea was served. I was fumbling with the icy crampons and they would not fit. Dorjee was a big help as he tied the laces on to my shoes. We formed two ropes each was tailed by the instructor. As we climbed the slopes I was breathing heavily. The nose was choked up and I was slowing down my rope. I cleared the phlegm and it was an instant relief. The sun was now up and the rays caressed and warmed the body. With my vitality upgraded I swapped to the lead position. Soon we were at the top of Mount Shitidhar. The weather was getting cloudy and the Ladakhi summit was hidden. I had a glimpse of Mt Manali, which looked very easy from our location. Our instructors decided to call off the climb, as the weather was turning bad. I retreated with my instructor and Dorjee. We wound up the tent and started the descent to base camp. It was a pleasure to switch from my heavy mountain boots to the lightweight Goretex shoes. My investment was paying off well. Dorjee and I paid a short visit to Beas Kund. Was it true that the Mahabharata epic was conceived at this peaceful place? Dorjeee said, “It is believed that if you ask for a wish, it shall come true.”


I thought of things that I would wish for. My carrier was in my hands and I knew that I would be able to struggle to achieve what I wanted. But there was something that I was unsure about. I rarely interacted with any females. I always fearful, that a woman would pull me away from mountain climbing. I knew what to pray for. I asked for a good wife, who would understand my passion for adventure. I opened my eyes and looked at the pond. There was no wind and the water seemed like a mirror. The rock wall in front of the pond merged into its reflection in the water so well that I could not locate the partition.


The Session is benightment. We are asked to go to Bias Kund and pick up some wood on the way. We are to stay there for one night without food. The sweet dessert was catered just to add a few calories that would eventually be burned out on a cold night. I had not eaten much for detest of sweets. Solemnly, we gathered a few shrubs for the night fire. The day was clear, and we expect the night to be sub-zero. Beas Kund is a flat place and there is no shelter. We grouped together in a wall of rocks made that had served as a kitchen for an old expedition.

All my mates wore leather jackets and I cursed myself for not having carried one. I felt colder. No one suggested to light the campfire, as we wanted to postpone it to a late hour.


If the fire died and we ran out of fuel, we would feel colder. There being no firewood at Beas Kund our only hope was to kindle it only at the right time. I remembered my Bivouac on Mt Matri and the crevasse. This was a much better place devoid of snowfield, icicles or avalanche hazard. I narrated the story to the folks. Soon each of us started reciting some anecdotes. In later rounds, the topic turned to adult jokes, which is subsequent talk converged into sex stories. Dorjee narrated a ghost story about a climbing team that had died on an expedition to Ladakh. He mentioned that he was a porter and he swore that he had seen this in real life. To add fuel to the fire, someone started an argument about ghosts being nothing more than illusions of cobwebs in the minds. I cajoled Dorjee to ask for a few more details and he went on and on. I had lost the sensation in the bottom and I snuggled my feet inside the rucksack. Soon others followed the same. We had started working on the training to put it into practice.


We all realized that this was not a night to sleep. We had to keep awake and keep moving to retain the heat. We had agreed that the fire could be started at around 1 AM. Our faces glowed as the fire crackled. We tried to keep it low. Everyone thawed their frozen hands. I drew my feet out of the sack and pushed them close to the fire. It brought life to my toes till someone told me, my socks were on fire. There was a roar of laughter, as I gaped at the hole. I drew back into my sack.


Fortunately, the fire went on till 5 AM and we had a massive fire with the remaining wood before retreating to the base camp. Back at base, we had hot food waiting for us and the instructors listened to our stories. Survival was the most important lesson for the course. 

At noon we had the final interview. The chief instructor asked a few technical questions during the oral examination. Then he asked a pointed question.

“What do you think about the decision about retreating from the mountain?”

“I felt sad at not being able to climb the Mt Ladakhi. The instructors said that the weather was turning bad. Probably they thought it was the right thing to do.”

“What would you have done if you were the instructor?”

I answered thoughtfully, “I would have asked to retreat, as the safety of my group was worth a lot more than my personal ambitions.”


This was to be an important takeaway that would change my life, from thinking Solo to think about a team.


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