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A Kumaon woman
A Pilgrimage to the Famous Five
... the Panch Chulis

Jaideep and Suniti Mukerji

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To his credit, however, Mahesh was able to persuade eight of the stronger porters to go down the trail at three in the morning to retrieve the precious loads of food and fuel.

Most of the group went to their tents hungry that first night, but were soon asleep, comforted by the warmth of their sleeping bags. Victor and I sat around a tiny fire watching shooting stars streak across the black sky, rich with a million stars shining clear in the mountain air. It was daybreak before we heard the welcome sound of the porters returning with their loads.

Soon, Farook had steaming hot porridge, fried eggs and chappatis ready for breakfast within the hour and the team set off before the sun had touched the valley floor.

A serious and purposeful mood prevailed the next two days as we cut through dense thickets of seven-foot-high thorn nettles with dinner plate sized leaves. We clung to trails that were barely scratched into sheer cliff faces and leapt over torrents, where a slip would have meant being carried down to serious injury or death.

On the third night, an enormous cave warmed by Farook's three hissing kerosene stoves provided welcome change from the cold nights under nylon tents. Memories of the dangers overcome and the uncertainties about what lay ahead were anxiously discussed at dinner. Victor's vivid account of the 1992 Panch Chuli expedition and how close it had come to disaster made the mood sombre. The air was thick with thoughts of what dangers and difficulties the next day would bring.

Our major challenge the next day lay in crossing the Pyunshani river. A good two hours were spent dragging a fallen log down a steep slope and positioning it across the fast flowing torrent to serve as a basic bridge. While the team put on protective harnesses to clip onto a safety line, we were not able to persude the porters to put on this fancy piece of gear. They insisted on walking across that moss covered log barefoot -- that was how it had been done for centuries and a bunch of visiting outsiders were certainly not going to convince them otherwise.

And then it happened -- the porter carrying a dozen tents slipped and fell into the river. A whirlpool stopped him from being carried over a waterfall to certain death. As the rest of us watched paralysed, Victor pulled a roll of climbing rope out of his rucksack, anchored one end to a boulder and jumped in to grab the half-drowned man and pull him out of the freezing water.

At camp, the Panch Chulis The next two hours were spent in warming up two very cold men. Mutterings of discontent and whispers of a mutiny could be heard from the porters, who saw good reason in the abandonment of the journey by some of their colleagues earlier.

It was another long and tiring day before we climbed out of the dense nettle and rhododendron forest into more open rocky country at the foot of the Panch Chuli peaks. Marmots popped up all around looking curiously at the intruders. And fresh deer tracks along the sandy riverbank held promise. >

I suppose it is a spiritual thing; the feeling that overwhelms you as you sit at the door of your tent looking up at a 21,000 feet high mountain at the end of a week- long trek through unknown territory. From our camp at 16,000 feet, the five Panch Chuli peaks inspired awe with their forbidding, steep flanks lined with fluted ice. A combination of sunny days -- that we utilised to walk up the Panch Chuli glaciers and explore new approaches to the mountain -- and There are some memories that remain. The memories of lying awake till one in the morning watching frost coat the inside of your tent, unable to sleep with adrenalin pumping through your veins after the day's excitement. Memories of the porters shuffling and coughing restlessly in the next tent as they try and stay warm in temperatures that dip to -12 C... And memories of listening to the not too distant rumble of avalanches, making you very aware of your mortality.

But it all seems worthwhile at the end -- we are some of the very few people who have ventured into this unknown land. A group of people who barely knew each other, united by this experience, have now become good, lifelong friends.

Photographs by Jaideep Mukerji

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