RATANGAD: A ROMANTIC NIGHTMARE
Whatta fall from heaven!!
This is one death-defying fall we love to indulge in during the monsoon.
Even if it means rising up pretty early in the morning and travelling a
100-odd kilometres to keep our date with death. Free-falling from a
height of 80 ft with the gushing waters pounding the face is the dream
of anyone, not necessarily those who have a streak of adventure in him.
I am not talking about the dead people who are caught between the
cacophony of their mobile phones and the virtual reality of their
luxurious laptops. For them adventure is a spectator sport that is best
experienced on National Geographic or Discovery channel. So, let’s leave
them to their gadgets.
But, for some of us who love to keep
the adrenaline flowing, Nisarga Bhraman’s waterfall rappelling session
at Bekre village was a splendid chance to come face to face with our
fear of the unknown.
So on Saturday, I woke up before dawn and
got on the Expressway to Bhivpuri. And as the early morning light
pierced the dawn, it opened up a magnificent grey-and-green world
dripping with waterfalls in all their monsoon glory. Once I hit the
rising ghat between Lonavla and Khandala, the fog and the rain played
hide and seek with the visibility spicing up my thrilling journey.
And as I sped past the E-way to join the Khopoli link road, I stopped
wonderstruck at the maze of waterfalls flowing in the mountains to my
right. It was an absolutely gorgeous sight. Joining Rohit Nayak, Parag
Jadhav and Pankaj Borole at the Karjat Chowk Phata, I downed some nice
vada pav and hot, hot bhaji with some steaming chai.
And off
we went to Bekre collecting the rest of the guys from the Bhivpuri
station. With the rain lashing us, we got on to our feet for the trek
into the hill behind Bekre. Admiring the beautiful paddy fields, we
walked under narrow canopied pathways, trudged through ankle-high slush,
and hopped over fast-flowing streams. It was great fun.
On
reaching the base of the rising hill, we could hear the hoary sound of
the waterfall which sent our hearts into raptures. And as we went a
little ahead, we had a glimpse of the swift-flowing waters, and soon
enough we were in front of the thundering fall dancing down in all its
grandeur. The cameras went clickety-click, and everyone and his
girlfriend took a picture standing in front of the fall.
The
photo session over, we climbed up the last stretch of the hill to reach
the rappelling point. By then, Parag, Hemant, and Sameer had made all
the arrangements, and Sameer had even rappelled down. Basically, it
means that everything was ready for the down-fall.
After a
quick introductory session, I was called on to go down first. I started
off well, and I was pretty good till I went to the fall point, not
because I excelled at it but because Parag was there gently guiding me
to take the baby steps.
But once I lost sight of Parag, it was a
scary descent. I couldn’t find anything to rest my feet, the rock was
covered with slippery moss, and the water started pounding my face. In
other words, my spirits were going down under. Oh God! What do I do now?
In that state of momentary panic, all of Rohit’s
instructions, before I started out, to let go of the rope in the left
hand and put the hand to the rock to avoid getting hit on the face just
didn’t come to mind. And hitting my helmeted head to the rockface, I was
hanging in the air swinging from one side to the other.
There
was, however, one good thing going for me. I was in control of the ropes
and tried to find a foothold in the midst of the pounding waters. I
couldn’t find any despite my long legs! When fear overtakes you, you
can’t see anything nor can you hear anything. And I wasn’t trying to
hear anything anyway.
I kept my cool and lowered myself down
slowly with my knees scraping the rockface till I found a crevice to
rest my legs. I stood there for a while, when I heard Hemant’s voice
from below to swing to the left where the force of the water was less
and rappel down from there. And after that it was a lovely descent into
ecstasy.
If last fortnight’s waterfall trek to Ulhas valley
sent our spirits soaring to the stratosphere, this weekend’s waterfall
rappelling helped us build a nest there. It was so breathtakingly
beautiful!!
Thank you Rohit, Parag, Hemant, Sameer, Pramila and
Parag Jadhav for making this wonderful experience come true. We owe all
of you a ton of thanks.
Written By: N Venugopal Rao
BOY, THAT SINKING FEELING IS INCREDIBLE!!
KOLAD: “Is the water deep?” was the
first question that was voiced after posing for all those Facebook
photographs decked up in helmets and life vests. The enthusiasm
transformed into fear as we walked the couple of paces to the rafting
point. Our guide Rambo, a sweetheart from the North-East, was quick to
answer with a sly smile. “It is, but you don’t need to worry as long as
you follow the instructions.”
“I don’t know how to swim. Is it
okay?” comes out the second one. It is echoed by everyone. “So do we.”
And that makes her even more scared. “No one here knows swimming?! What
if something happens to me?”
And more questions tumble out of
our hearts like the swift-flowing waters of the Kundalika: What if I
topple into the river? What if I can’t catch hold of the emergency rope?
What if I this? What if I that?
And we gave vent to some more
fears with nervous laughter till the mock drill was over and we set sail
on our inflatable raft with cries of “Jai Kundalika.” The tension in
the air was palpable. Everyone was was saying a silent prayer in his/her
heart. And there was an uneasy calm. It was pierced by the guide’s
shouts of “Paddle Forward”. And once we got into action, we only had one
choice: either to sink or get out of that sinking feeling.
The guide made us do the mock drill all over again: “Paddle Backward”,
“Stop”, “Hold the Rope”, “All Down”, “All Up”, “Paddle Left”, “Paddle
Right”, till we became familiar with our paddling exercises.
And as we laughed at our weird actions, he gave us the loudest of
shouts, “Paddle Forward”, “Faster”, “Faster”, “Faster”…. We rowed as
swiftly as possible synchronising our paddles, when all of a sudden we
were asked to “Stop”. We were sliding down into a mass of treacherous
waters, called the rapid in rafting language, and as we hit the waters
came the guide’s shrill voice “All Down”. You wouldn’t believe the
swiftness with which we went ducking into the raft.
As the
raft hit the waters, it rose at a 45 degree angle and the swirling
waters hit us in our face and drenched us totally. And the force with
which the raft landed in the proper position sent our hearts soaring to
the skies. Woooo-hoooooo!! We survived the first rapid. Boy, that is an
incredible feeling!
And when we came to our senses, what we
feared would happen had happened: two girls, not from our group, fell
off their rafts and were desperately trying to hold on to the trees in
the waters. Rambo threw the emergency rope, and we pulled them up into
our rafts.
And this gave an opportunity to our guide to tell
us what happens when we panic. He advises us once again not to be
scared, to lock our legs, sit on the edge of the raft, and keep rowing.
To relieve whatever tension was left in the body, he encouraged us to
splash water on the guys in the nearby rafts, and it triggers a whole
load of competitive splashing.
And when we were in the middle
of the fun, Rambo’s clarion call comes once again, “Paddle backward”. It
was a sign that we were approaching another rapid. We did. “Stop” came
the next cry. And as our raft hurtled down into the second rapid, came
the shrieking cry “All down”. We ducked once again and rose as swiftly
once we were out of the swirling mass of waters. We survived the second
one too. Wow, it is getting better and better!!
By now we had
got used to the rapids and were no more scared. We actually waited for
the next rapid, and we paddled with joy hurtling from one rapid to
another with fun names like Butterfly, Crow’s Nest, Fisherman, Rajdhani
Express, and the most dangerous of them all, Johnny Walker. Wonder who
gave those names? In all, we crossed a dozen rapids, when all of a
sudden the river turned hermit-like and went into a silent mode.
Our guide asked us to jump into the river and make merry. Before that
he made us stand on the moving raft to dispel any fear left in our
hearts. So, we slid into the waters gingerly, one at a time, as if we
were testing the waters, and once we were confident that we were safe in
our life jackets, we had a jolly good time playing in the waters. But
the best of all was the floating lying on the waters. It was the
greatest nirvana after a good workout rowing the paddles.
If at all you get an opportunity to go for rafting, grab it. For it is the best way to celebrate your fears!!
Written by: N Venugopal Rao
THE ZENTLE ART OF WATERFALL TREKKING
KHANDALA:
I don’t know where to begin writing about this incredible trek we went
on this Sunday because I just can’t come out of it to tell you how
goddamn exciting it was. But I have to tell you, if not to share my
excitement, at least to make you jealous!! I am not kidding, I am
confessing to you in the true Facebook spirit.
Okay, since I
have to begin somewhere, let me begin at the start point behind Hotel
Kamat near Khandala. This wonderful slice of paradise was the perfect
setting for a monsoon trek – the dark clouds hovering in the sky, the
gushing waterfalls running down the mountains to meet the river below,
and the soothing-to-the-eye green acres of the Ulhas valley. That was
the good part. Or rather the great part.
Now for the scary
part. Before leaving, Sameer tells us that we would be plunging down a
dangerous path to reach the Ulhas river. And trek all the way up. Great.
Dangerous is a very mild word to describe the route. It was a
horrendous descent with all the trappings of a journey into hell. First
there were the knee-high stony rocks. Giving them a smooth finish all
the way down was the running water. And the massive sidewalls of the
rockface were coated with a layer of moss. It was the perfect recipe for
disaster.
So, getting down was like walking in the midst of
landmines. We didn’t know which part of the rock was slippery and which
was safe. Every step had to be taken with a touch of Zen, every puddle
of water carefully tested, and every obstacle gently manoeuvred without
losing sight of the path ahead. We were in perfect awareness every step
of the way. If you don’t know what Zen is, then this is it.
But the best part was climbing down a short pathless stretch using a
rope while the gushing water lashed our faces. While Sameer and Pinak
patiently tied the ropes and let us down one by one, some refused to
come down, some struggled to hold on to the rope, but all of them
eventually had a safe landing with a little bit of howling you-can-do-it
kind of encouragement from some of us.
And once we reached
the valley after making ‘Are we there yet?’ a mantra, we had our just
desserts – the pooled waters of a torrential waterfall. All of us who
were desperately waiting to unwind our stressful souls jumped into the
pool as the fiery waters pounded it with a mighty force. It was the
perfect catharsis. We yelled, we howled, we danced, and we made merry.
After an hour and lunch we started on our return trek on the dangerous
pathway once again. If the knees went ‘click’ every time we landed our
foot while climbing down, our ankles and spine went crackling as we
hauled ourselves up. But who cares? We had the time of our lives. And
the miserable moments turned into magical ecstasy once we reached the
top.
Before you say ‘Good Golly, is this your idea of having
fun?’ let me tell you there is no more greater joy than going through
pain and suffering and coming out unscathed. Don’t believe me? Try it
out the next time and you will understand the ecstasy of agony, and you
will love every moment of it. If you can't, then you are a gone case.
Seriously.
Thank you Sameer for choosing such a lovely spot,
and also for constantly running around the slippery route to ensure that
everyone was around and all was well. And Pinak and Mandar, we owe a
big thank you to you too for leading us patiently. Let us give the three
guys a big round of applause. Hip Hip Hooray. Hip Hip Hooray. Hip Hip
Hooray.
Written By: N Venugopal Rao
GREAT EVENING, GLORIOUS MORNING!!
Trust Rohit to come up with exciting weekend possibilities, and he
would come up with places that will make you go bonkers. Literally. And
this time it was the camping site at Salthar, where he had taken us last
Saturday, that had all of us oohing and aahing. Tucked away deep in the
hills, beyond the Lion Point in Lonavla, the camp by the scenic
lakeside was the perfect getaway to spend a lazy Saturday evening. And
that was precisely what we had gone there to do: eat, roll in the tents,
play by the bonfire, and generally make merry.
But our nimble
feet wouldn’t allow us to stay put at one place. So the moment we
reached Tel Baila, the V-shaped col was too tempting to resist. And with
Hemant and Parag taking the lead, a handful of us went on a
not-so-difficult trek to the col. So what if we couldn’t climb up the
legendary straight line rock patch, we were happy to bask in the cool
breeze at the foot of the col.
Downing a quick lunch, we
headed to our camp site, a couple of kms away. And with the first
glimpse of the lake amidst the wall-like mountains, everyone went
W………….O…………W. It was so mindblowingly beautiful. Quickly Parag, Rahul
and Hemant got down to business and put up tents, with the rest of us
trying to lend a helping hand. By the time the tents were up, the sun
slowly started to disappear into the hills. And our chief chef Rohit got
down to doing what he is best known for – cooking some tasty veg and
non-veg snacks. By now everyone had had their fill of admiring the
ravishing sunset splashing its golden rays on the lake.
With
the sun going back into its shell, it got a little chilly. And it was
the perfect moment for Parag to light the bonfire. We had some lovely
soup sitting by the bonfire and chatting sweet nothings. Soon dinner
followed. It was the chef’s favourite – Maggie noodles with a good
measure of broccoli, mushrooms, and other delightful ingredients – that
had everyone asking Rohit for the recipe. It was so deliciously yummy.
Some narrated spooky tales, some went for walks in the chilly lakeside,
some cracked jokes, some sang songs, and all of us had fun chilling out
in the cool dewy night. And the salacious wintry side-effects were to
be felt when we went to sleep. The tents were literally dripping with
dew and the cold could be felt in our feet and, in case of lean guys
like me, in our bones. And that is what we had gone there for – to
experience life in its elemental state – isn’t it?
The next
morning some of them who didn’t wear shoes were dancing away at the
freezing cold numbing their feet. And soon the sun rose up from the
hills behind us splashing its golden yellow rays on the hills in front
of us bringing a new joy into our lives. At 8 o’clock when we had our
chai, the sun shining brightly in the sky drove away the cool breeze
giving some respite for the frozen souls. And it was time for us to pack
and leave.
On the way we had breakfast, and thanking the
organizers profusely for organizing such a wonderful camp we headed our
way home buying some chikki and some fudge and everything that Lonavla
was famous for.
Thank you Rohit for the wonderful dinner, and
Parag, Hemant, and Rahul for spending all your time putting up tents,
lighting the bonfires, and generally ensuring that everything went well.
Here’s a big round of applause for the four of you. And here's a word
of advice: LET'S CARRY ON CAMPING!
Written By: N Venugopal Rao
THE RIDE-TREK TO HARISCHANDRAGAD
KHIRESHWAR: It was a super special Diwali dhamaka offer: A cool night
ride that would transform into a tantalizing trek to Harischandragad. I
would be a fool to reject the bumper chance. I wasn’t. So, on Friday
evening, I got pushed in and out of the crowded Indrayani Express, and
standing still on my two legs for two-and-a-half hours reached Kalyan at
9 pm. There, joined by a gang of nine, led by Rohit Nayak, we headed to
Harischandragad on five bikes at around 12.30 am for our date with the
divine night.
Bouncing up and down the bumpy road, we rode on
in the still and peaceful night with nothing to disturb us except the
rulers of the road, the trucks, whizzing past us. And we were treated to
some delicious ingredients of a night life: The roots of the banyan
trees eerily hanging overhead. The changing colours of the
crescent-shaped moon from red to orange to yellow and all the shades
in-between. The vast canopy of the chilly dense fog emitting a glow-like
aura in the vehicle lights coming from the opposite direction. And the
blow cold, blow hot wind as we ascended the curves and switchbacks of
Malshej Ghat. It was one of those memorable nights that would be forever
locked safely in the inner folds of our collective minds.
Just before dawn we reached Khireshwar hurtling down the bone-shaking
7-km patch of rocky road to join six others led by Parag Vartak. A short
nap and a quick breakfast later, at 7 am, we got on to our feet in the
mighty and picturesque mountains that lent an idyllic charm to
Khireshwar.
We walked through the dense forest, carefully
hauled ourselves up on the precipitous rock patches, rolled down the
waterfall pathways, and crossed one plateau after another and, passing
by the huge massifs of Bala Killa and the Taramati, arrived at the
temple of Harischandreshwar by 12 noon. And we were literally blown away
by the beauty and grandeur of the centuries-old Hemadpanthi temple.
To the left was another temple, the Kedareshwar temple, which had a
huge, round shivling standing in refrigerator-cold pool of water inside a
cave. It was surrounded by four pillars, three of which have been
broken. Local lore has it that when the fourth pillar caves in, the
world will come to an end, and you and I wouldn’t have to bother about
keeping track of our mobile phones, our mail accounts, and the updates
on our social networking sites.
And to the right of
Harischandeswar temple was the Saptatirtha Pushkarni, a beautiful lake
set in a rock-cut Hemadpanthi enclosure. A small flight of steps at the
entrance led to the waterline and a dozen beautifully carved deep niches
on the other end housed idols of different gods till recently. All the
images have been removed and kept in the main temple to safeguard them
from the prying eyes of the antique smugglers. Today the beautiful lake
is the site of the trekking groups’ parting photo.
Both the
Harischandeswar temple and the lake were surrounded by small square
temples of different gods. Beyond the lake were the caves which would be
our abode for the night. The first of them was a Shiva temple, and the
last a water body, while the remaining were used as residences by the
trekkers.
These were just the starters, the mesmerizing main
course was reserved for the evening. We hardly had our packed lunch and
slept when we were woken up at around 4 pm for a romantic tryst with the
sunset. We trudged up the hills and walked the length and breadth of
the plateau in the narrow path amidst the green bushes to witness a
breathtaking display of the volcanic mass of stony hills at Konkan Kada.
The first words to come out of our wide-open mouths were: OH MY GOD!!
Konkan Kada was a huge semi-circular wall of mountain that plunged more
than 2,000 ft deep in a semi-arc with the hills on either ends, and
some in the middle, racing down in myriads of dense lines. Some of them
were crowned with triangular heads, some had spindle shaped tops, and
some had bird beak kind of pinnacles. But all of them literally ran down
the mountain in an incredible expression of their communion with Mother
Earth. It is only man who thinks he is superior, the other species live
and let live in perfect harmony with their surroundings.
Through the middle of the amphitheatre below ran a river and the whole
patch of earth was intersected with pockets of dense forests and paddy
fields. The humungous nature of the semi-circular valley produces a
chilling effect in your spine, and the silence is so soothing that you
automatically close your eyes after all the oohing and aahing posing for
those Facebook profiles.
And the dinner, Maggie noodles
cooked in dollops of tomato ketchup, was the perfect recipe to lull us
into a fitful sleep in the cosy confines of the rocky cave. The next
day’s sunrise on the Taramati hill was the yummy dessert that rounded
off the wonderful three-meal course.
No matter where you are,
no matter how busy you are, no matter what your social standing is, hunt
for an opportunity to go on a trek to Harischandragad. You may not
remember it for the rest of your life, but you will definitely not
forget it.
Thank you Rohit for having thought of the biking
option to Harischandragad, and Hemant and the Parags – Vartak and Jadhav
– and all of you who’ve made this trek a memorable experience. And we
missed you Sameer Patel and Mandar Saraf.
Here’s wishing all of you a colourful and sparkling Diwali. May this Diwali light up more treks in your life.
Take care and have fun.
Written BY: N Venugopal Rao
BACHELOR PARTY IN THE SAHYADRIS
ANJANERI: When the baap of all bachelors, Lord Hanuman, beckons us for a
rendezvous in the wilderness of the Sahyadris via Nisarga Bhraman, we
should be foolish to skip the bachelor party. No, Hanumanji wasn’t
calling us to announce his marriage plans; He isn’t dumb and stupid like
you and me to harbour such insane thoughts. He was inviting us to
partake of the glorious splendour of mother nature at the height of the
monsoon.
So, on Saturday, we put on our rucksacks and hopped
on to the ghost train to Kasara. And, from there, bundling ourselves
into jeeps we went on a rough ride to Trimbakeshwar. Some of us who were
awake spotted the night watchmen – the cats, the snakes, the mongoose
and the ghostly shapes of trees – zipping by in the intrusive light of
our jeeps.
We reached the holy town at 5.30 in the morning just
in time for the early morning puja. Don’t ask me what temple it was, I
am no temple guy, so I slept in the jeep when the others were
circumambulating the temple.
The temple darshan was over by
7.30 am, and we headed to the Anjaneri fort, reportedly the birthplace
of Lord Hanuman. And the 5-km trek wound through the steep serpentine
path in the hills until Anjaneri, the base village, shrunk into a tiny
hamlet in the panoramic grandeur of scarped hills, lakes, and green
wooded forests.
After a quick breakfast at the foot of the
fort, we ascended the broad steps carved into the hills, wound round the
precipitous scarp, and trudged up the steep steps that rose in a
straight line to reach the rolling meadow-like green plateau.
On our way up, we were treated to a bit of history by Sameer. Pointing
to a row of steps carved into the stone on either side of the ravine
near the first cave temple which housed the image of Lord Mahavira,
Sameer explained that there used to be a huge entrance wall, or what you
call darwaza, in the olden days which had been reduced to rubble by
nature’s weathering forces. Near the darwaza was a beautiful abstract
stone impression of probably Goddess Lakshmi.
The plateau
offered some more breathtaking vistas, the most magnificent of which was
a mesmerizing waterfall that thundered down into the valley below.
Cattle, with their tinkling bells, ambling around on the vast meadow
feeding sumptuously on the fluorescent green grass provided the perfect
setting for the waterfall. It was a truly awesome sight.
To one
corner of the plateau was a temple dedicated to the mother of Lord
Hanuman, the Anjani Mata Mandir, at the foot of another mighty hill atop
which Lord Hanuman lived. It had a standing image of Anjani Mata in
front of whom was a kneeling Lord Hanuman bowing to His mother with
hands folded. Besides the mother-son duo was Lord Gajanand @ Ganapati.
On our way to Hanuman’s hill, we encountered a beautiful pond where a
scenic tree with a twisted trunk was desperately bending into the pond
in a Bollywood-like setting.
Indulging in a photo shoot and a
bit of monkeying around on the tree, we trudged up the hill which had
nice little cement steps zigzagging all the way to the top. A side alley
laden with the fresh circles of cow dung led to another cave temple
that was hidden in the woods. Adjacent to it were a complex of
not-so-important temples and an ashram.
As always, the best
was reserved for the last. And it came in the form of a dense fog that
enveloped us from all sides cutting us away from the neighbouring hills
and dales. But we didn’t complain. We rejoiced in the black and white
foggy wonder that played hide and seek with our surroundings. Walking in
the fog was like discovering your pathway in the dark. You don’t get to
see more than a furlong of your path. And it was great fun.
The stairway took us to another broad mindblowing plateau on the highest
summit of which was another Anjani Mata Mandir. In this temple the
mother holds on to baby Hanuman, in a dear embrace. There were many
other idols in a row of stones arranged in a circular or rectangular
fashion.
On our way back, the warm sunshine cleared the fog
opening up the breathtaking vistas all around us. Walking down the steps
treating ourselves to nature’s wonders, we reached the first plateau,
had our lunch at the pond, and came down the huge steps carefully to the
base of the hills.
I headed to Trimbakeshwar where I caught
the bus and reached Pune after a painful 6-hour journey. I mean painful
for the other passengers, as I slept like a log all the way to Pune. The
others jeeped down to Kasara, took the train and hopefully were in
Mumbai by 10 pm.
Thank you Rohit, Parag, Hemant, and Sameer for organizing another wonderful trek.
Written BY: N Venugopal Rao
