Nyra’s First Trek: Snowfalls and Life Lessons at 12000 feet

“My head pains. I am having trouble breathing”, Nyra said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. After hiking up for almost 4 hours over a steep incline through mud and snow, Nyra’s legs were giving in. Was I pushing her too hard? Maybe this was beyond what she was ready for. I offered to retreat and started walking back, only to turn around and see Nyra welling up with tears but standing her ground. “I don’t want to go back,” she said. We soldiered on for another hour, sometimes strutting, sometimes stumbling, until we made it to the top of Chandrakhani pass. We were among the last in our group. My first feeling was a tinge of embarrassment. I wished Nyra could keep pace with the group. But then I swelled with pride. What she lacked in physical ability, she more than made up for with her grit. And by now I know that in a battle of ability and grit, grit wins every single time.    

My love affair with trekking began by pure chance. A few years post-college, our group of friends, unable to decide on anything else, ended up trekking to the Sandakphu peak in North Bengal. It was a breathtaking hike across tiny mountain villages along the Indo-Nepal border, the trail passing amidst Rhododendron blooms. I witnessed the best sunrise of my life that cast golden light over the majestic Kanchanjungha range. There was a gritty satisfaction in earning the views by going where not many others dare to go. I knew immediately that trekking was going to be an enduring passion. I also knew, well before I became a father, that this was something I would one day introduce my child to.

And sure enough, Nyra was initiated into trekking at five. Her first was a day hike to Chembra Peak in Kerala. Over the years she has done a few more. Now that she was on the cusp of turning ten, it was time to graduate to proper Himalayan treks.

For a trek with my family, there’s no one I would trust more than the pioneers of organized trekking in India – Indiahikes. They are very professionally run and pay unmatched attention to safety. We booked the beginner friendly Chandrakhani Pass trek in Himachal – a picturesque four-day hike starting from Rumsu village near Manali climbing all the way up to 12000 feet at the pass.  

Day 1

With excitement and apprehension in equal measure, we arrived at Indiahikes’ Jungle Lines Campus on the outskirts of Manali. Nestled amongst serene apple orchards, it’s the base for multiple treks including the popular Hampta Pass trek. We were greeted by our trek leader, Vicky, and our three local guides from Rumsu. We would be surrendering ourselves to them for the next four days!

We also met our fellow trekkers, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that our group of twenty-four had five more kids! Within minutes, the kids were an inseparable pack, and I began to fear that this ‘epic father-daughter bonding trip’ might turn into a solo trek for me. Despite my own misfortune, I was amused by just how quickly kids bond, completely free of inhibitions.

It was then time for a detailed briefing by Vicky and the guides on what to expect on the trek and what they expected from us. We would be covering 26km on foot over four days, starting from 6500 feet and going all the way up to 12,000 feet before coming down again. When Vicky announced that the upper reaches of our trek route were going to be snow laden, Nyra’s went feral (or, in non- gen alpha language, wild). She had been campaigning for a snow encounter for years, and now it was on.  

Day 2

The hike starts after a short car ride from the Jungle Lines campus to the beautiful, quaint Rumsu village. The village feels like a time capsule from another century, with many old wooden houses still standing defiantly against modernization (and earthquakes!).

Our ascent began from amongst apple orchards and so did Nyra’s biology lessons. She was thrilled to see grafting and pollination in action – stuff she had been reading about in her science textbooks just recently. For me, it was a reminder that a few hours in nature can do what textbooks can’t – create genuine curiosity to learn. 

Soon enough, we gained altitude and moved beyond the apple orchards to beautiful pine forests. The lessons continued on the many different varieties of pines and how they have modified needle-like leaves to minimize water loss and prevent snow from accumulating.

Just when murmurs of “Are we there yet?” began emerging from the group, the trail opened up into a beautiful clearing in the forest – a spectacular little meadow that seemed custom built by nature as a rest stop for moaning hikers!

After the much needed pitstop, we marched on and reached the campsite, Ghan Kuradi, right in time for lunch. 

The support team from Indiahikes had already reached before us, pitched our tents and cooked up a delicious meal of piping hot dal-chawal that now awaited us.

During the day we had risen steeply to gain 2000 feet of elevation over a short distance of 3km. It had just the right amount of stretch – steep enough to grant a genuine sense of accomplishment, yet short enough to not make us question our life choices.

A delightful bonus of trekking in a group is meeting like minded people from diverse walks of life. Our group ranged from young kids aged 8 to the young at heart aged 68. It had some first-time trekkers and it had some for whom trekking had become an incurable addiction. It had families wanting to bond over time out in nature, friends wanting to rough it out together on a Himalayan adventure and senior citizens for whom trekking was the surest way to feel alive.

Day 3

We learnt that our next intended campsite, Chaklani, was still under snow. So Vicky decided to camp lower, at Naya Tapru. That made our Day 2 hike shorter, but would further extend Day 4, the already challenging summit day.

Before setting off on the hike, we unpitched and packed our own tents. The contraption that was our home for a day got neatly folded and fitted into a small bag! We spend our life accumulating clutter. But here we were, perfectly content with a backpack of essentials and a sheet of fabric to call home!

Day 3 was our shortest day. Vicky had the smart idea of assigning roles (trek leader, guides) to some of us and taking the day easy himself. The kids jumped at the opportunity, volunteering to be guides. It came with the enviable perk of using a Walky Talkie. Kids! 

Those who know me would know that I never volunteer to lead. Maybe the comfort of anonymity among strangers gave me courage and I had my hand up to be the temporary trek leader before I had consciously processed what was happening. I had almost involuntarily volunteered to lead.  

And immediately, I felt a perceptible change in my conduct. Whereas until now I was only looking out for Nyra, I suddenly felt responsible for the collective safety (and morale!) of twenty three others. I realised that we don’t raise our hands because we are comfortable doing something, we do it first and become comfortable along the way.  

Halfway into the hike, the skies darkened as ominous clouds began to gather. As soon as we reached the campsite, it started pouring. It cast a pall of gloom on the mood of our otherwise merry band. What if the weather didn’t clear in time for our summit ascent the following day? Only the little monsters were unperturbed, engrossed in their games in the community tent while adults spiraled into weather induced depression.

But later in the evening, the skies cleared and the sun shone through. It was, quite literally, a ray of hope. We were treated to panoramic views of snowcapped mountains. The campsites on Himalayan treks are always exceptional and we could now see that Naya Tapru was no different.

Once the sun set, we were enveloped by a starry sky above and the glittering city lights of the Kullu valley below us. 

As Nyra and I were zipping up our sleeping bags that night, we knew that a transformative experience awaited the next day. The challenging ascent to the top of Chandrakhani pass, a 12 km round trip, over slushy and snow-covered slopes would challenge us to the limits. But once we do it, we won’t be the same.

Day 4

Despite the weather forecast and much to our delight, we were blessed with a sunny morning on the big day. Soon after we began ascending, we started finding snow on the trail. First in small chunks, then in ever larger patches. Kids (of all ages!) could barely contain their excitement and immediately devolved into snow fights that left no one – trekker or guide – safe.

The Oaks, Maples and Pines had given way to Rhododendrons. Some of them had just started to flower. The snow covered peaks were now closer than ever, almost within touching distance. But it was only an illusion of proximity. On the winding mountain roads, things are always much farther away than they may seem to be. But we had already walked for four hours and our destination was still quite distant. Our legs had begun to tire.

After a while Nyra started to slow down considerably, and we fell well behind the group. On the first two days, Nyra had coped well with the physical demands of the trek. She had only made minor complaints which I could brush aside. But this was serious business.

We were at least an hour away from the summit and she was already visibly exhausted. She felt a headache and had difficulty breathing. And the summit was not the end – we would also have to descend all the way down the treacherous terrain. To add to our worries, after a benevolently sun-kissed morning, the weather had begun to turn.  More than once during that fateful hour, I seriously considered turning back and offered Nyra a dignified retreat. But Nyra steadfastly refused. And so, on we marched – alternating between pep-talk, courage and despair.

Nothing compares to the unbridled joy of making it to the top. People all around were grinning uncontrollably, congratulating each other. Nyra had shown tremendous grit. After being on the edge of breaking down for almost an hour, she finally teared up when we got to the top. She was possibly too numb to fully appreciate what she had accomplished.

After indulging in a well-earned photo session, it was time to turn back. Now lay ahead the 6 km long descent along a slippery, icy path and slushy slopes. I was dreading the climb down with a completely fatigued Nyra when something magical happened.

It began to snow! Very gently at first, but then thick and fast. For a moment, we forgot about our sore legs and stood mesmerized. Nyra’s first snowfall. Surely the first of many. But firsts are always special. And we could not have asked for a better setting. We were surrounded by snow on all sides and cottony soft snow was now falling from up above. Whenever Nyra would think back about her first snowfall, she would remember that she had earned it. And I would be a small part of that beautiful memory.

With unsteady and reluctant steps and frequent complaints about not being able to carry on, we made our way down. Our guides were immensely helpful in navigating the precariously slippery tracks. We ambled on wondering every few minutes how much was left to endure.

We were tremendously relieved to finally spot our bright yellow tents in the distance and started trotting rapidly down with newfound energy!  

On reaching the camp, Nyra said, very justifiably, that she just wanted to crash and go to sleep. But the moment her friends came calling for her to join in play, out she went in a jiffy, the tiredness miraculously forgotten!

That night at dinner, Indiahikes treated us to Gulab Jamuns. These hard-earned treats hit differently at 10,000 feet. Sleep came easy that night – both because of the physical exhaustion and the mental relief.

Day 5

I woke up  with a bittersweet feeling. We would commence descent shortly and the trek would be over in a few hours. On one hand, it was the culmination of a very successful trek, one where we got more than we had bargained for. In the same breath, an experience I had looked forward to for so long, was now over. There won’t be another first trek for Nyra. There wont be another first snowfall. There won’t be another first ‘father-daughter trip’. 

It was a long, seemingly never-ending descent. Nyra’s slow, cautious steps meant that we trailed the group by a distance. Vicky hung back with us and we got talking. There’s clearly something magnetic about the mountains that draws bright young people like him away from the attractions of city life and promising careers into the glorious uncertainties of a life in nature. 

We now traversed the treelines in reverse – starting with the rhododendrons, then the pines, oaks and maples and ultimately ending with the apple orchards close to Rumsu. As we stepped out of this enchanted world back onto paved roads after four days, Nyra and I promised each other to come back soon – the next time with her mom in tow. We had both missed her on the trek. She had taken one for the team and held up the home front, so we could do this. We couldn’t wait to head back to her with our bagful of stories.

When we decided to trek, I knew it would be a great learning experience for Nyra – getting close to nature, coping with the physical challenge, showing mental fortitude and at least briefly living a minimalistic life. Little did I know that it would teach me just as much. That we grow into leadership if we choose to lead. That life’s joys hide in plain sight if we can take the pause. That being a father means fading away into the background when she craves independence but being there whenever she needs a helping hand and celebrating her for who she is.