Footprints on the Mountainside

This is a particularly sweet memory from my life as a nomadic horsewoman in the mountains.

I lived in Manali, where it snows in the winter. Horsemen here rarely stable their horses, preferring to let them loose in the high altitude pastures in the summer, and tying them together at nights in the winter. The horses themselves are hardy, and I haven’t seen them ever come to any harm like this.

When it snows in Manali, all the Khampa and Kinnauri and often even local horsemen bring their horses down from the alpine meadows and migrate to the Mandi district, where it doesn’t snow, so that the horses can graze by day, and their costs of feeding are lower. They return to the higher areas in spring.
Horsemen come together in small groups for the journey, so that you often have a huge herd of about 50 horses migrating together. Manali to Mandi town is about a 4 day trek, and reaching the interior locations with adequate resources for horses takes another few days. Overall, the journey is about 6-7 days.

We used to travel by the highway and roads, so a huge herd of horses was out of the question in the day. The nights are a different story. The treacherous mountain road is deserted of vehicles by night, so this is when the caravans travel. It was a tough time, as we used to walk all night, and had camp work (cooking and other stuff) and grazing the horses to see to by day. Hardly any time to rest.

But this was also a magical time. Just horse lovers and their precious horses in an age old journey. We used to time the journeys to coincide with full moon nights and a favourite song from my city days took on a whole new relevance. Bear with me, as I share it with you.

Thandi hawa yeh chandani suhani
Ae mere dil sunaa koi kahani
Lambisi ek dagar hai jindagani
Ae mere dil sunaa koi kahani

Mere dil, tu sunaa koi aisi dastaan
Jisko sunkar mile chain mujhe meri jaan
Manjil hai anjaani…….

This cool breeze, this moonlight is pleasing
Oh my heart tell me an (enchanting) story
Life is a long way
Oh my heart tell me an (enchanting) tale

Oh my heart, you tell me, such a tale
Listening to which I come to peace my love
And the destination is unknown…..
And it was like that….. the heart was full of pleasant emotions, as the horses and owners walked in the moonlit nights at peace with themselves…. in harmony….. toward a destination that was an integral part of life for a horse and owner in this part of the mountains.

Saare haseen najare
Sapnon mein kho gaye
Sar rakh ke aasmaan pe
Parvat bhi so gaye

All the beautiful sights around
Are lost in their world of dreams
With their heads cushioned in the sky
Even the mountains are sleeping

And it was like that……….. the world was a beautiful play of moonlight and shadows - a world in black and white - the snow covered mountain tops a very grey against the night. The world indeed seemed to be sleeping, as we walked along the deserted highway through deodar forests silhouetted against the moonlit night. The only sound was the hoofs of horses on the road, and the steady river flowing along.

Aise mein chal raha hun
Pedo ki chaao mein
Jaise koi sitaraa
Badal ke gaon mein

And thus I am walking
In the shadows of the trees
Like some star
In a village of clouds

hmmmm….. drifting along the road…. all night the men, the horses and the night and the journey through the evergreen forests

Thodi si raat beeti
Thodi si reh gayi
Khamosh rutu na jaane
Kya baat keh gayi

Some of the night has passed
Some of it remains
The silent season I know not
What it has said

And the nights….. yeah they passed bit by bit, withthe last kilometer never seeming to end. Its surprising how after walking for 30 km, the last half kilometer seems impossible. It happened everynight, as weary caravans came to open grounds to set camp for the day. Until the night……..

It is a time of my life that was so beautiful, that for all my life, a part of me will remain the simple horsewoman with her simple life and simple cares - away from the complex urban life - far away in the mountains.

Tagsadventure,animals,experience,high-altitude,Himalaya,horses,memories,mountain,travelare applied to this post

This is a memory from a long time ago. Way before I figured out the internet beyond checking mail. This is a time when I was a nomadic horsewoman in the Himalaya.
I was living in the high pastures of the Kullu valley with my herd of horses. We were in the pastures below the Hampta Pass - about a 6 hour walk from Manali. The winter had been rough, and we were just camping out in the high altitude pastures where we leave them for the summers, supplementing their diet with some grain, to help them catch on on their health a bit faster.

What a place to be in! We were camped in the meadows at Juara. Alpine meadows - the air is crisp, the water is crystal clear and flows right through the pasture. A few empty stone structures that would later become nomadic tea stalls plus camps of herb gatherers dotted the scene, with sheer black cliffs rising on both sides in stark contrast with the lush comfort of the place. A place straight from some fantasy tale. Once could believe some nature spirits living here, particularly on moonlit nights, when the scene goes black and white, with the moonlight strong enough in places to register come colour. What a life - the horses living free around me, prancing with their improving condition. Pye, my bitch, by my side and the sounds of the stream for company.

The days were pretty idle. Feeding the horses a couple of times a day was no pain - they used to come happily enough for the treat. Beyond that…. not much to do. Cooking, enjoying the paradise I was living in, early to bed, early to rise. Perhaps an occasional visit to Sethan - the last village on this route, and the only fully Buddhist village in the entire Kullu valley, where my god-family lived. A timeless idyll.

Occupation came in an unexpected way. A gaddi camp was passing by, planning to camp a little higher than the pasture we were in. I recognised the shepherd, and invited him for a cup of tea. When he saw me, he decided to camp near our camp itself.

Over a cup of tea, I realized why.

A filly of his, had been attacked by a bear a week ago, and had been hurt badly. Originally, believing that she would die anyway, he hadn’t taken her to a vet. But she hadn’t yet died. She was in a bad way, with her wounds infected, and was struggling to keep up with the moving camp, to follow her mother. This was creating a problem, as the mare used to keep waiting for her, and slowing the caravan.

I had already gained a solid reputation as an animal lover, and my animals were often a point of interet for local livestock owners for the glowing condition I used to maintain them in. Plus, I was gaining a reputation as an enthusiastic “unofficial vet” from the knowledge of animal medicine I used to gather for the well-being of my horses in a land where vets were not easily available, and often very far from the place of need.

He wanted me to take a look at the filly and see if there was any hope for her, as well as see if she could be put down, if there wasn’t. I refused flat out to put her down, as I am not of the opinion that animals should be killed when they are fighting to recover. Plus I lacked the kind of knowledge and equipment it would take to put her down. I agreed to take a look and see what I could do for her.

We went out into the pasture and unloaded his horses to set up camp and then look for the filly. She was in a bad way. She was sleeping, exhausted at the end of the pasture without even coming to join the herd, once she saw that they had halted.

We got her up and brought her up to my tent and tied her in front of it. I started to take a good look at her and see what it was that I was up against.

She was a beautiful, black filly. Three months old, lovely conformation - she would have made a fine mare when she grew up, if she survived this scenario. Her rump and neck was covered with deep gashes from the bear’s claws, and a week of neglect had allowed infection to settle in. Most of the gashes had developed pus, and a couple had maggots in them. My whole being recoiled at the thought of having to clean up this mess.

If I had to save this filly, I had to do it, no matter how repulsive it was. I felt a surge of anger at the shepherd for neglecting her treatment like that, and vented my fury in choice words, yelling at him and his wife for being callous to the very animals that made their livelihood possible.

The filly stood there shivering from the early morning air and her exhaustion.

I made the couple promise to rest in the pasture for at least a week, before I would touch the filly - it was pointless to begin something, if it wouldn’t be sustained. As an incentive, I praised the quality of the filly, and asserted that she would become a very valuable animal and bring him good money and work very well, if she was helped to recover. This seemed to strike a note of interest.

I had some anitbiotic injections in my animal first-aid kit. I gave her a shot. She hardly noticed. Then I knew, that I had to get over my nausea and actually deal with those wounds, and took a look at my medical supplies. They were minimal. The anti-septic I had, would hardly deal with half the wounds she had before running out. The same with the creams. Now what? I shoved the supplies back into my sack, and kept only the bottle of phenyl. The rest would have to be home remidies (which was what I preferred in any case).

I made a strong solution of tea in a huge pot and used that to clean the wounds. Yes, I just plunged in, and cleaned them all thoroughly, pus, maggots and all, till the flesh showed clean. Some of the deeper wounds still harboured maggots - of that, I was sure, so I used some gauze soaked in phenyle on them to dress them. On the rest, I applied a light film of honey and stuffed them full with crushed garlic.

All done, I walked away from the tent area and puked.

The evening saw a repeat performance. On the next day, the maggot wounds were clean too, and they received the honey and garlic treatment, and by that evening, some of the lighter cuts had begun to heal, and the filly was acting more interested in life, and giving me trouble to catch for treatment But she seemed to understand that I was trying to help, so she flinched and nudged with her nose, if it hurt, but never tried to kick at me or hurt me in any way.

After that, I taught the couple how to do what I was doing, and told them that they would have to repeat this till ALL the wounds were healed, and that the filly could probably begin walking in a day or two.

They seemed to have got the point, and the two days were uneventful - so to say (not counting one of my fillies who seemed to be jealous of all the attention this one was getting)

The time was up, and the gaddi camp moved on, and the filly became another memory, until a few years later, when I ran across the same gaddi again. There was a beautiful mare in his herd - the one I had treated. I recognised her instantly and was happy for her. The couple put camp once more, to spend some time with me, and that evening, I was invited to a special dinner, where they thanked me with tears in their eyes for saving their beautiful mare.

Their animals also looked better cared for, since the last time. I was happy, that things had worked out well, and that they had developed some love and concern for the living factors in their “business”

Tagsadventure,animals,destinations,experience,experiential-learning,first-aid,high-altitude,Himalaya,horses,inspiration,memories,mountain,people,performance,reaching-out,trekkingare applied to this post

Of all my wanderings in the mountains, the one location which comes to mind the most is Chandratal - The Moon Lake. Before anyone thinks I’m a hopeless romantic, I’d like to stress that I am quite a practical person most of the time.

I don’t know what it is that draws me here repeatedly, but there is something about this lake that is irresistable. Locals insist that a world of Gods lies at its bottom, and you can sometimes see it if you are a really pure soul. Maybe it is so, or maybe, the powerful aura of the place gives birth to such fantasies.

There is a legend about the origin of the Chandratal and Surajtal lakes as a result of eternal love between the son of the Sun and the daughter of the moon and their quest to meet, that is an apt description of the celestial presence the lake evokes.

I can speak for myself and what I feel when I’m there. At Chandratal, I’m at peace from the world. Not the most demanding clients or worries from back home can hurt me here. I feel protected by the energy of the place. It is a very beautiful location as mountain lakes go. A medium sized lake you can walk around within an hour. The crystal clear water is of course because it is fed from an underground stream in its bed. No pollution, no contaminants. Germs hardly survive here. All drinking water overflowing in a steady stream giving birth to the mighty Chandra River. All around are mighty peaks of the Chandrabhaga range and some of the most challenging climbs to be found in this region. Shimmering in their snow cover and glaciers in the warmth of sunlight striking camp in the morning.

A mug of tea in hand, it is time to watch the shepherds on the other side sending their flock out to graze in the day. Distant bleats echo each other, and a new day is begun.

This is my best experience for an ideal morning, and each time, it feels new. Still, many other places have such charm - why Chandratal.

It is difficult to put in words. The place has a tangible feeling of wholesomeness, healing and there seems to be magic in the air. People are at their best, awed into respect by the very place itself. The lake offers quiet companionship, and it is rare to hear loud voices.

The lake gets deep quite quickly from the shore, yet it is fascinating to see the shore extend for a long way before the distance blurs the details. the hypnotic and rythmic distortion from the waves makes one aware that the water is actually there.

Afternoons are a good time to visit the neighbouring nomadic shepherds, share local news over cups of strong goat milk tea, and watch the livestock feeding on the nourishing grass. Even the animals are at peace. Horses are known to wander away from camps on treks, creating a huge inconvenience to staff and clients alike, but at Chandratal, they seem content to graze on the highly nourishing ‘neeru grass that grows here in abundance. Their reluctance to leave can be seen on the day the group leaves.

There is no shrine or temple here, nothing to denote any religion. Yet spirituality envelops one and all, and the presence of God, or if you prefer, an all encompassing power is undeniable.

I am not trying to make a sale, but this is one place worth a visit. It is an essential pilgrimage of the soul, whether you do it with us, or anyone.

Tagsanimals,clients,destinations,experience,high-altitude,Himalaya,horses,mountain,news,people,religion,trekking,worriesare applied to this post