Gurudongmar -Three's company

The engine refused to start! The driver relentlessly repeated the ignition sequence, but the sound of the engine died down each time and with it, our hopes of getting to Yumthang. Not only are our travel plans in jeopardy, but our safety – we are over 13,000 ft up, in the middle of nowhere. It is close to midday, but outside the vehicle, the rain assists the temperatures in plummeting to single digits. Worse still, the closest form of civilisation – the village of Thanggu – is about a half hours drive away. Our driver it seems has tried everything and is now beckoning us out of the car. I look around towards RM and JC. The anxious look on their faces expresses a similar disappointment.

Lachen to Gurudongmar lake

Ice breakers on the road

RM and JC have been acquaintances of mine for about 40 hours. They on the other hand have been friends since school. Our decision to travel through north Sikkim together mimicked an effort of coalition politics rather than a happenstance meeting of friendly, similar minded beings. A trip to Gurudongmar and Yumthang valley was proving to be too expensive for either of us, separately. But lady luck was on our side that evening, and all three of us stepped into the travel agent’s office on MG Marg, Gangtok at approximately the same time, making the suggestion a no-brainer for the travel agent.  It was weird, that first meeting, each one trying to figure the other out - like two dogs introduced to each other by their owner – sniffing each other for any signs of danger– the accent, attire, unnecessary body marks. But the foremost fear in my mind was whether or not these guys were really travellers! Will they keep puking out the car window throughout the journey? Would they buckle under the heights of Gurudongmar? Will they expect a better hotel at Lachen and cry foul? But as always, the predominant urge to travel allowed me look beyond all possible shortcomings.

Our conversations in the Maxx, the next day were limited to small talk – our work, education, families. None wanted to make any bold comments or suggestions. Inevitably, though as it would seem, conversations drifted onto travel itself. A few weeks before, the duo had travelled to Lava which is about 30-odd kms from Kalimpong in North Bengal. The excitement in their narration of the events was apparent. And as they described, with an air of wonder and devotion, the glimpse they caught of Mt. Kangchendzonga through the clouds, I laid to rest my fears of my companions. They certainly weren’t just dreamers.  I, in turn, having been to Kalimpong and Pedong earlier in the year eagerly exchanged notes with them. It was now their fears that were to be allayed with tales of pursuit of a lost Bhutanese fort (which I never reached, by the way), the leeches, the clouds and all things hidden in the forgotten hills that would gladden a wanderer’s heart.

Lachen (“Big Pass”)

The village of Lachen

The ice was now broken! In the assurance that none of us would by inclinations or frailty endanger the journey, the chronicles of our ramblings and experiences unfolded – from Kolkata to the North-east to the nation’s capital and my home city of Bombay (Mumbai). Anecdotes that took us past the dusty district capital of Mangan , the beautiful and meandering Teesta, the reticent village of Chungthang at the confluence of the Lachen and Lachung and finally into the village of Lachen just after dusk.

Lachen was oddly comforting – beating my expectations, there were double and triple storeyed houses and hotels, with satellite dishes protruding from the sides giving you that feeling of being connected to the world you have left behind. Darkness however kept from me, her bountiful surroundings – of green wooded slopes, with patches of autumn yellow, of stealth clouds and the silent but ever moving Lachen river. In any case, exploration of the town was to be deferred – not only because of the curbs of caliginosity, but also the requirements of the next day. Vehicles are not allowed to the lake after 12 noon as the conditions then deteriorate and make the place inhospitable. An early dinner and early start in the morning was due.

Gurudongmar-water on the moon

Thanggu

An Army run cafe on the way- apparently the world's highest!

The drive from Lachen began before sunrise at around 4:30 in the morning. The landscape around that was sparsely peppered with fields and single houses, appeared in shades of grey under the awaited sun. Only the tops of the mountains, usually the first to feel her warmth, could be seen albeit through filters of orange. We made an early stop at the village of Thanggu, where we are guided into a local home for breakfast – bread with hot, molten butter poured over it, to be eaten hot before it froze back again.

Yak herder's hut

Thanggu is at 14,000 ft and after the village the tree line recedes to give way to the vast desert plateau.  It’s a concoction of comatose gravel and stone stretching across acres, with the icy mountain ranges on the sides, standing tall and firm like organised battalions. If only a herd of horses were to gallop across the vast space, with purpose and freedom, so that movement, life and sound may render this portrait complete! But alas, the only four legged animal you are likely to spot is the Yak. You will find them grazing on the patches of grass that miraculously found a way to survive here or near the herders’ huts – crude stone structures with attached enclosures.

The lonely, desolate road to Gurudongmar

Back in the Maxx, RM’s head was tilted back. He was trying to sleep off the mountain sickness that has gripped him. Later, at lower altitudes, he spoke of the flashes of tragic events and nightmares that he experienced during his sleep – the oxygen levels must have really been low.  

When we arrived at the lake, a few moments later, it was similar to desert voyagers sighting an oasis. Gurudongmar lake might have gallons of water, but it’s not bodily thirst that one quenches here. Her demeanour is more spiritual - the placid waters, the remoteness of the mountains, the strings of prayer flags that adorn her banks and of course the Sarva Dharma Sthal (House of worship for all religions) is a good representation of her past.

Gods of the lake

Gurudongmar lake gets its name from Guru Padmasambhava (Guru Rinpoche). Sikhs believe that Guru Nanak (also known as Guru Dongmar)was known as guru Rinpoche to the Tibetans. Either way, both are believed to have passed through these parts.

(http://www.east-himalaya.com/sikkim/gurudongmar.html, http://www.sikhiwiki.org/index.php/Gurudongmar_Lake)

Gurudongmar Lake

Tibetan prayer flags add to the spiritual ambience

There isn’t much to do around here, except for soaking in the tranquillity and taking wonderful pictures. After we are through with that, we scampered to the Maxx for a quick return to Lachen and then onward to Lachung and Yumthang. But, now about two hours later, we are huffing and puffing as we try to push the Maxx into life – she doesn’t. We spot an army post up ahead and request some engineers to have a look.  The fuel filter is detected as the culprit – it must be the fuel that was bought from the makeshift station right after Gangtok. In desperation, the filter is removed, but the Maxx still refuses to co-operate. There is now no hope of getting to Yumthang.

Rescue

Finally, after options are knocked off, the army generously offers us a ride to Lachen. A truck would be crossing the village en route to another post and we are offered a lift. It’s an interesting turn of events, a chance to ride with our armed forces in one their vehicles, even though it’s as peaceful a mission possible. As we clamber into the back, one of the jawans yells to us with a smirk, “You will remember this ride for the rest of your life!” as he gets behind the wheel.

The ride is as rough as it gets – we find ourselves tumbling from one end of the truck to the other, first in shock and then with playful frolic as with a roller coaster. Outside, humans are still scarce, but life as we know begins show up in patches of green, yellow and orange amidst the conifers. The lichen and rhododendrons sprinkle more colour on the canvas. These are the vistas that I lost in the morning, partly to the darkness, partly to my reclamation of sleep. We are closing in on Lachen. I suddenly realise that our travelling group is now four – in the corner, is the driver of the Maxx, anxious as ever. He needs to find a mechanic from somewhere and take him to the point where we left the vehicle. He is looking at severe losses of repair, time and opportunity. I wonder if he has any travel stories –perhaps now is not the right time.

Pointers

•      Whether Indian or foreigner, you will be travelling close to India’s borders and you require a permit to cross Mangan. These permits can be attained from recognised travel agents which can be found in plenty on MG Marg, Gangtok. However, no agent is willing to just deal in permits – you will have to make all arrangements of travel through them.
•      You will identity proofs and photographs of yourself for the same. Foreigners should carry their passports.