The trip came to an exhaustive end. I don't believe any one of us had
done something this tough and excruciating before. One thing I am absolutely
positive of is that I have managed to create moments for myself that will
stay with me for a long time to come. I still dream of the things that
I have seen and the moments that I have experienced. Hassan aptly calls
it an Odyssey rather than a trek.
Well, the odyssey began from Skardu on the 10th of July at 5:30 in the
morning as four porters and the six of us boarded a single cargo jeep.
What followed was a 10-hour jeep ride to Askole village during which we
experienced two hiccups in the form of roadblocks. Doing a virtual rock
climb, which took the air out of most of us, we managed to cross the first
one. The second was a 20 feet long crevice, which had to be crossed on
a locally made bridge. The means of crossing were two logs of wood thrown
across where a bridge should have been and hence the process of crossing
was slightly out of the ordinary for me. On the other side, Hassan told
me that I was to expect anything..."Anything can happen". We
reached Askole camp late in the afternoon and Yassir and Hassan were immediately
off to take photographs, a ritual that they would religiously follow for
the rest of the fortnight. We didn't pitch tents and instead slept in
a campground with a veranda. It was going to be our most comfortable night
for a long time.
The Odyssey officially commenced the next morning and I dutifully managed
to get myself stuck in the doorway of the campground - Hassan managed
to get it on tape. Not the greatest start in the world but what can one
do about situations like this except to try and not get photographed.
Anyway, we trekked for four hours before we stopped at a place called
'Kaiser''s polo ground' and decided to make camp. The rest of the day
was spent sunning ourselves or staring enviously at the camp of a couple
of Germans. Apparently there were two of them and 20 porters - we were
six in number and had only four porters. They also had a 'mess tent',
which resulted in Khurram and me dishing out colloquial slang at the Germans.
Later one of the Germans came up to us and from then on we called him
the 'mad' German. After the mad German left we returned to our chat and
petty philosophizing and Hassan declared himself a Purist. Khurram declared
himself to be a purist and I followed in with my declaration of being
a 'Germanist' while keeping a constant eye on the their camp and the luxurious
activities that they indulged in such as the hot water bath that the second
German took in a tub - his name, we later discovered, was Mr. Helmut.
After a moment of silence, Atif Paracha had a declaration to make, "I
am hungry". This went down as one of the Golden Greats in our logbook.
I can't expect another person to understand but we would crack up every
instance this line was repeated during the course of the Odyssey. Later
Hassan and I climbed up a rock to take a look at the mighty Biafo glacier.
I saw my very first glacier at that instant. That image is like a photograph
in my head now - even at this very moment I can recall what Biafo's snout
looks like. That night Paracha and Hassan slept outside under the billions
of stars that wished us luck.
The next day we were braving the Biafo by boulder, hopping and going up
and down endless ravines. A very tiring process it turned out to be as
we struggled on our first full day's trek and attempted to reach Namla,
a beautiful green campsite up on the ravine. Personally I was quite pleased
with myself at pulling off a very tough day with no apparent problems
and I thought that was as bad as it would get - I could handle the rest.
It would take a couple of days for me to come to terms with exactly what
kind of a test this whole trek was going to put me through.
Mango was the mission for the 13th of July. It would take us roughly an
hour to get out on the glacier and then we would trek out till the point
when we were supposed to cut across the glacier to get to next camp. Mango
was on the same side as Namla, and we were out by nine - following our
main porter, Mohammed Hussein, whose assistance throughout the trip was
invaluable. We crossed over to the middle of the glacier and then moved
down the Biafo only to be interrupted by ice crevices that blocked our
path. At a certain point no path was visible so Hassan took his ice axe
and made footholds for the rest of us to cross over an ice ridge. Seeing
a certain amount of risk in it, we left our backpacks behind for Hassan
to ferry over since he had a pair of crampons. We carried on through the
ice field, and finally hit a ridge in the middle of the glacier upon which
we could speed up considerably and hence we managed to make good time.
It is here that Paracha slipped off a loose rock coming down on his knees
and we suffered our first mishap of the trip. His knees swelled up with
the result that he couldn't walk when it was time to cut across the glacier
to the campsite. Hassan stayed behind with Paracha and the rest of us
went up ahead to get to camp as soon as possible so that we could send
Ali and Azam, two of our porters, back to fetch them. It took us an hour
and a half to get to Mango from where we left them and the terrain was
very hard and I had a queasy feeling about the ground that I stood on.
It had gotten much colder as it was evening by now and Hassan and Atif
had started to move slowly. Hassan was ferrying two backpacks, as Atif
needed serious help. We finally made to the camp and sent Azam and Ali
running back down. Ali carried Paracha all the way back to camp. He was
given pills and was forbidden from moving out of his tent - the doctor
ordered complete rest.
Mango is a slightly prettier version of Namla, but Mohammad Hussein kept
on tempting us with the beauty of Biantha - so we decided to take a rest
day at Biantha. It would do Paracha good to rest and the rest of us could
use a day off as well. The next morning, after Mohammad Hussein's newly
adopted ritual of jamming porridge plates with tea mugs inside our tent
the instant we managed to groan and get up, we broke camp and were on
our way. Crossing the moraine took us an hour as usual to get to the center
of the glacier, and then it was dodging stones jumping over boulders and
treading on ice till we managed to tire ourselves out...again. After a
short rest and wheat biscuits we crossed the moraine again to get on the
opposite side of the glacier. Mohammad Hussein promised us lunch at every
bend, every corner, behind every boulder - he promised us that Ali, Azam
and Ahmad would be sitting with our lunch but when I saw him perched on
top of a 200 feet vertical wall I just blew it. Hassan, Kami and Khokhar
recorded nervous breakdown number one of Snowlake 2000 amongst fits of
laughter. We scaled the wall and were entertained to a panoramic view
of the Biafo - Red Stone Mountains on our side of the glacier and Black
Rock Mountains on the opposite side. We finally hit the lunch point when
I was about to collapse, and were yet again promised by Mohammedd Hussein
that the Biantha campsite was no more than an hour away. We should have
known better than to trust him so blindly because in the three hours that
followed Khokhar's shoulder strap snapped and he suffered nervous breakdown
number two of Snowlake expedition 2000. It was starting to rain as the
drizzle was constantly building up. Paracha sped ahead like a rocket showing
no mercy to his injured kneecap, and I suspected that his impatience with
not arriving at camp was unofficial nervous breakdown number three but
the sly fox never let us know. Anyway, Hassan and I were following Mohd
Hussein as the shower continued and guess what? Hassan suffers his breakdown
and refuses to budge an inch. At that exact moment, when all of us had
hell going on in our heads, the rain stopped, the sky cleared up, the
sun shone through and out came the most beautiful, vivid, bright and enchanting
rainbow I have ever seen. The day was complete.
We camped at Biantha an additional day, resting, lounging around on our
mats, listening to music, reading the trekking guide of Pakistan although
Khurram found "Seneca" much more interesting. Biscuits and jam
was standard diet apart from the regular meals and then something terrible
happened. I felt cramps in my stomach and then I came down with a case
of severe diarrhea. I spent the remainder of the day frantically applying
every medication available in our ambulance but it was an infection so
no commendable improvement took place. I got weaker and weaker as I could
not digest either food or water. We packed up and left the next morning,
and my condition wasn't improving. Kami and Yasir came through for me
and told me to keep pushing and it was Yasir's pep talk that kept my motor
running despite the fact that I had no food or drink for a whole night.
Thankfully, we stopped after three hours of trekking at a campsite called
Marfogoro, meaning Red Rock because a tower of red rock shot straight
above the campsite for at least 700 feet. There were two other German
trekking parties camped at the same place, and one of the Germans happened
to be a doctor and he gave me "magic capsules" which fixed me
up in a matter of hours. Finally Yasir exclaimed "shukar hai Bajwa
ki awaz aiee". I felt much better and was able to digest dinner that
night. Another mishap that happened was since our decision to camp at
Marfogoro was unexpected three of our porters sped ahead to the last camp
before Snowlake. So basically, we were without our food supplies, but
a friend of Hassan's from Hunza was a member of one of the German teams
and served us dinner that night. My first encounter with Shahdeville led
me to form a highly rated opinion of people from the northern areas as
Hassan had been harping on and on throughout the trek.
Karfogoro - Black Rock was our next campsite and took us the whole day,
as usual, to get to it. The Biafo became a white sheet of ice, having
a striking resembling with the motorway, only being hundreds of times
wider. A certain feeling overtook us and we all fell to taking pictures,
Hassan and Khokhar leading the way in that department. We carried on after
a snack and hit the campsite, which can be better described as a rock
and boulder site. Karfogoro was basically a whole bunch of rocks thrown
together and the art was to find the flattest possible space where to
set up tent. The Germans got there before us hence they got the best spots
therefore leaving Khurram and myself to set up tent in the last possible
space available. Our tent had its back to a wall but the other three sides
were supported by nothing at all. Sharp drops meant that during the night
if we moved around too much, we probably would end up smashing ourselves.
I didn't sleep much that night, and we had to be up early the next morning
as Snowlake had to be crossed before the sun got too strong and the snow
became too soft to tread upon. All of us were excited and very anxious.
It snowed the whole night and we wondered if we would be able to cross
it all, but at first light Kami's beautiful voice cried out "Guys
get up! There's not a cloud in the sky" and behold, there is a God.
All packed and set we roped ourselves up to each other and I fought last
minute bouts with my persistent problem of digestion, but I was really
excited. I had never seen a photograph, but only heard about it - I had
let my mind imagine what the place would look like and not even in my
wildest dream had I pictured something so serene, so beautiful, so "mind
blowing". In Hassan words, "divine". It cannot be explained
or described. I will dwell on it later when in an article just on Snowlake
itself because honestly I can't do it justice here. Anyway, we walked
on the white ocean till 2:00 PM, till we reached Hisper Pass at 17,000
feet above sea level. We had been thoroughly burned, were hot because
of the sun and cold because of the snow all around us and somehow had
managed to forget all about something called "water". Sucking
on snowballs all day only made it worse and I already was in bad shape.
Hassan, Kami, Khokhar and Paracha decided to camp at Hisper Pass while
Khurram and I opted to come down with the porters. Now I only have one
regret and that is that I should have stayed at the top because firstly
it took us another five hours to get to the camp site which was promised
to be only two hours away. We should have learned by then to never take
the word of a local where time is concerned. I almost died that day as
Khurram dived full length after me to give me support as I rolled out
of the crevice that was gaping with it's mouth wide open at me. It took
me a while to get my act together and move on, but when we did move on
it turned out to be a nightmare. We ended up crossing a crevice field
where on every step that I took I had a fifty-fifty chance of dying or
surviving, but at the end of the day Khurram and I pulled through and
were safe in our tent eating aloo qeema with Shahdeville as our guest
that night. Now I was only worried about the rest of the gang arriving
safely tomorrow.
They did make it - all in one piece. The trek was halfway through but
it felt like it was going to be over soon. It was a mad dash down the
Hisper glacier from here on as we zoomed past the Germans without looking
back. We stayed off the glacier and walked on the endless moraine, which
was interrupted by five killer glaciers we thought were going to be easy
but turned out to be very grueling. We literally trekked like "dogs"
and I felt slightly felt bad since the Hisper side was much more beautiful
than the Biafo side and it deserved more time. We passed beautiful lakes
as the sunlight reflected off their waters, and the green vales carpeted
with flowers all making for breathtaking scenery. We had no choice but
to keep on going because our kerosene oil supply and food supply had hit
an all time low. Our last camp was at a place called "Juthmiol"
where our food ran out and kerosene dried up. Mohd Hussein proved himself
to be the gem of a man that he is by giving us dinner from his own rations
and then gracing us with his presence at the final party. Khurram went
around collecting cow dung and made a three feet high pile, which we lit
up at sunset. We played "Night Songs" by Nusrat Fateh Ali, lounged
around by the fire, ate the last two cans of our fruit, smoked cigarettes
(for the first time I wished that I could smoke!) and listened to some
beautiful Balti songs that were sung by our porters. On one danceable
number Khokhar and I got up and did a little shake around the fire. Later
we went back to Night Songs and stared up at the sky and I was reminded
of the wide Deosai sky. What in the world was I thinking when I let Hassan
talk me into going! I must have been mad - I could have actually died
a few days back, why don't I ever listen to my parents!
But then I realized that there is no other place in the world that I would
rather be. July of 2000 turned out to be the most mind-blowing time of
my life. I learnt to see the other side of life, I learnt of my insignificance
in the face of the mighty giant called Nature. What is my life? It is
there one moment and then gone the next. We go through entire lifetimes
without realizing our very selves. Deosai and especially Snowlake taught
me how to breathe, smell, taste and feel. I can't wait for Hassan to get
back next year.
Last but not the least I would like to thank Khurram for diving after
me, Khokhar and Kami for being the inhabitants of the common-room-tent.
Paracha for being hungry and the malang that he is. I admire you man.
And most of all I would like to thank Hassan for honouring me by inviting
me to the trek and for giving me the pleasure of making his acquaintance.
It's finally starting to sink in, what the hell did we do!!