Three Days to the Trailhead in Monsoon Madness

Colors of the Himalaya

“Namaste, mujko unis chai chayi hey [Greetings, we would like 19 chais]” Fall Semester in India student Stephanie confidently asked the chaiwalla (the Himalayan equivalent of a Starbucks barista, except with tea) in perfect Hindi.

Little did I know when I signed up to work the 10-day Pindari Trekking section of the Semester in India that Stephanie’s language skills would be one of the most valuable skills on this section of the course, the other skill being Tolerance for Adversity and Uncertainty. I don’t mean to sound trite –I often chime “Tolerance for Adversity and Uncertainty” every time I refer to a challenge on a NOLS course (and I am not the only one guilty of overusing this phrase). But I mean it this time, I really do!

Views of the Greater Himalaya from the Pindar Trail

After shepherding fifteen students through days of torrential monsoon rains of biblical proportions, and the resulting landslides (which ravaged several villages in Northern India), our four-person instructor team breathed a sigh of relief when we finally reached our trailhead, three days after our scheduled arrival. Had we not been able to effectively communicate with the numerous chaiwallas, drivers, and other villagers we encountered along the way, these three days could very easily have turned into four, five, six days, or more.

Students taking a break at Upper Loharket to play with the local children

And had our students not adopted a Zen attitude along way, trusting our judgment, uncomplainingly going with the flow, and making jokes and singing Disney and Broadway tunes to bring levity to the obviously serious situation, our course could have ended on Day Two.

The distance we covered in our first three days was 160 kilometers (that’s a little over 99 miles) from the NOLS India base in Ranikhet to the trailhead. Typically, the “drive” takes eight hours by bus, with a lunch stop and a visit to a historic temple. This same drive took us three days by bus, jeep, van, and foot.

With initial support from Hindi-speaking employees from the base, Vinay Sirsi, Prasad Gadgil, and Cho Zhang, and of course our Hindi-speaking instructor team member Pranesh (Prani) Manchaiah, we were able to hail down jeeps to shuttle us between landslides, and then hike through the landslides (several kilometers at a time), to reach our final destination.

View from the village of Kathi

By day two, we no longer operated like a group trying to get to trailhead. The NOLS course had begun. We started teaching curriculum: how to pitch a tent . . . on the back patio of a restaurant, how to properly fit a backpack before hefting it up the narrow shepherds’ trails (“Himalayan Stairclimbers”) to circumvent roads that had been washed away by rains, how to use an Indian toilet, Hindi communication skills (thanks to Prani), keeping clothes and bodies dry, and Leave No Trace principles (you pack out those biscuit wrappers and Fanta soda bottles).

Disappointment transformed into a true learning experience. We had navigated trails no NOLS course had ever trod before. We had visited villages that likely had never seen NOLS students (let alone foreigners) before. We practiced true tolerance for adversity and uncertainty, with no knowledge of how far our jeeps could carry us before we encountered another slide, or where we would finally pitch our tents that night. The entire group was thrown head first into aspects of Indian culture we would never have had the opportunity to experience had things not gone sideways: including how to travel through India, where to bivouac at the drop of a hat, and what food to eat (and not eat) on the road. The students bonded over the challenge. And the instructor team gelled after having to confer on risk management decisions hour upon hour. When we asked our students what lessons they took home from our first section, they all hearkened back to the first three days, when we were not even on our designated trail.

A Rainbow Greets Instructor Prani Manchaiah After Seven Days of Rain

After the adventurous start, the remaining seven days on trail were relatively uneventful. Once we reached the trailhead, we were once again in control of our schedule and the “epicness” faded away and was replaced by simple enjoyment of our surroundings. After seven days and seven nights of rain, the monsoon came to a halt overnight, we were greeted by a gorgeous rainbow framing views of the Himalayas, and we spent the rest of our days bathed in the sunshine. We jaunted from village to village, taking ample chai breaks along the way to soak in the views, and camped in idyllic meadows, surrounded by cattle, water buffalos, sheep, goats, and monkeys. We passed locals on their daily commutes between villages, hauling 100 pound logs or giant bales of grass on their backs while treading in only sandals over the cobbled paths, and colorful mule trains carrying vital supplies to the remote villages. We hiked over passes adorned with prayer flags and dotted by shrines to the gods of the Himalayas: Shiva, Parvati, Ganesha, Hanuman, and Durga. We caught glimpses of the lofty peaks of these gods’ abodes in the Greater Himalaya—Nanda Devi, Nanda Khot, and others—as we trapsed through Rhododendron forests. The instructor team briefed over hot chai, crispy Pakoras, and steaming Parotas fire-baked in village ovens.

Granted, it was not a pure backcountry experience, but it was not a front country experience either. Mid-country, maybe? Is that even a word? Doesn’t matter, sign me up!

Our section may have been a success, but our thoughts go out to the villagers in Northern India and Pakistan who lost homes, livelihoods, and loved ones in this year’s monsoons. To read more about the monsoons, click here. To find out how to help victims of the monsoons in Uttarakhand, contact NOLS India at [email protected].

To see photos from this section, check out the NOLS India FSI-2 Flickr Group.

Phir Milenge (until we meet again!).