Friday Photo: Binsar Valley
Binsar and the Kumaon Himalayas – I : Lakes and Landscapes
A few trips to Garhwal Himalayas in the past years had pretty much convinced me that the region is as close to the heavens as it can get. When gliding down swiftly on snow-filled ski slopes of Auli, the views of Nanda Devi far away in the east and the deep ravines of Alaknanda to the north form a contrast that effectively render the scale of the mighty Himalayas into the mind. In the years after my initial rendezvous with Garhwal, I have explored the length of the Indian Himalayas on journeys that have taken me through Ladakh, Zanskar, Pir Panjal, Khangchendzonga ranges and the mountains of Arunachal. They all have awed me to no end, each of them unique and standing distinctly on their own, each peak effusing its unique character with pride.
In all these years, I was clearly aware of my itineraries keeping out Kumaon – Garhwal’s cousin to its south. The region comes with sufficient fame to its name, with the hill stations that have charmed the rulers in the days of the Raj to snowy peaks and glaciers that have attracted the adventure oriented today. Not to forget the legendary Jim Corbett who spent most of his life wandering the foothills of Kumaon with his endearment to nature and wildlife, and at the same time being saviour of the natives from the curse of man eaters. A sense of curiosity and respect for this region has always lurked in a corner of my mind, leaving a growing intent to visit and know its mountainous terrain. Milam and Pindari glaciers, Nainital and Ranikhet, the green and calm lakes of Bhimtal and Naukuchiatal, Binsar and Munsiyari are just some of the names that I have heard time and again in travel stories that have kept me fascinated. When I received an invite from Club Mahindra to visit Binsar, there was no thinking left, but to just accept.
The Lakes
Alighting Ranikhet Express in Kathgodam on the way to Binsar, it is evident that we are up to something beautiful. Foothills rise abruptly from the edge of the last train station, adorning thick greenery on their slopes. Rising peaks, dipping temperatures and pleasant wind welcome us into their territory as we drive up the hills, leaving the town and the clear waters of Golu River behind.
The first surprise greets us as we drive past a mountain pass: Bhimtal lake suddenly appears unannounced round a bend, with the road skirting the bank of the calm and green waters of the large lake. Driving round the lake and taking a short detour from the highway, we head to Naukuchiatal Lake, our first destination for the day. The largest and deepest lake in the region, it derives its name from the nine corners that confine its waters. From the edge of the lake where I stand, only few of those nine corners are visible, as the lake stretches away from me and disappears into a bend on the opposite end. Green hills surrounding the lake keep the wind at bay, letting the still waters of the lake reflect the encircling greenery. As I sit and scan the length of the lake, a loudening trotting sound makes me aware of horses running along the lake shore. I wish to be up on the back of one of them, but our stay here is brief and we have a long way to go before we get to Binsar.
Naini Lake, Nainital
The breakfast at Club Mahindra Resort on the lake shore has us replenished from the long journey from Delhi, and gets us ready for the drive ahead. Atul, the manager at the resort tells me that people go swimming in the lake, making me wish I had more time to spend here. Adding to my longing is the news of commencement of paragliding sessions only the day before we arrived.
Tourists on boats at Naini Lake, Nainital
Images of Bhimtal and Naukuchiatal linger in the mind as we drive away. But nearby Nainital, which we visit on our way back is a complete contrast. Urban sprawl of the town dominates the hills around the lake. Hotels crowd the lake-shore and occupy every inch of free space available. The shrinking lake doubles up as sewage dump for the town, and its waters have gone dark and visibly polluted. But all that apart, there is an undeniable charm that pulls in crowds to Nainital’s lakeside town. Its foggy environs create an appeal, and the sail-boats and row-boats that spread along the lake surface give it an air of romance.
The Hills of Kumaon
Kosi River
The drive to Binsar takes us through ever-green vegetation in the lower region that gives way to pine forests and shrubbery as we go higher. A dip in temperature is apparent as we climb up. The road from Kathgodam to Almora meanders up along the bank of Kosi river (This is not the Kosi that flooded Bihar earlier this year). Its waters are clear and inviting, and is so dark green that it could very well merge into the vegetation around it. Her flow appears gentle but is deceptive. On the day we drive back from Binsar, we put ourselves to test against the flow, as we stop for lunch by a riverside restaurant and use the time to dive into river and swim against its current. Can’t think of a better way to come out refreshed.
Almora’s urban sprawl almost comes as a shock after long hours of driving in the countryside seeing green mountains and only small villages that appear along the valley once in a while. We run into urbanscapes, traffic trouble and blocked roads – things that we have been trying to run away from. But it doesn’t take long to put Almora behind and enter pine forest that stretches endlessly. The scent of pine is not apparent in this early winter but a faint perfume rises in the air once in a while. Clear blue skies, tall conifers spreading along the mountains, a carpet of green grass and meandering roads – recipe for a perfect drive. Once in a while, the road rides on the high ridges revealing deep valleys on either side and giving a feel of a high as I look below. It was six good hours on the road before we made it to Binsar.
Continued in part II
Skandagiri
‘I can’t believe there is such an amazing place so close to Bangalore,’ said a friend when I showed the photographs. It was getting predictable – show pictures of Skandagiri to anyone, tell them it is just 60km from Bangalore and wait for them to gasp and react with those words – ‘I can’t believe…’
A year ago I had uttered these words myself on a morning after finding pictures of Skandagiri in my mailbox. Skandagiri is a small hill that is just two hours drive from Bangalore. Earlier unknown, it came into light when a few people trekked up there and came back with amazing pictures of the hill ranges peeking through the early morning fog. In the time of internet and group emails, Skandagiri instantly became famous. People have since been going there and camping overnight to see the dramatic mornings with waves of clouds kissing the hills, and to watch the sun come up slowly amidst them. Skandagiri also has a place in history with a small fort on its top built by Tipu Sultan.
I was longing to visit the place, and when a local photography group planned for a trip, jumped in without much thinking. On the next night of full moon, we packed our camping gear and drove towards Skandagiri. We had all the night at our disposal to climb up, which means we started pretty late in the night. When we assembled outside the city, had our dinner and finally reached the base of the hill, it was already midnight. Hiring a guide and starting the trek took some more time and we started only around 12.45am.
Skandagiri looked deceptively small and easy to conquer from its base. ‘Two hours,’ we were told, but we brashly estimated for 45 minutes of easy walk. Our guide took us through the route that first lead to the lateral part of the mountain and then up on an easy slope. But it got steeper as we walked and we slowly started increasing the expected time to reach up. It was hardly 15 minutes of climbing when a few wanted to halt and rest. The mountain was getting the respect it deserved from us, playing the hard way. Not even five minutes of rest and our guides was herding us up threatening, saying that we will never make it in this pace before sunrise. We moved on grumblingly.
But you can’t keep a bunch of photographers on their tows for too long. It was not much time before we found a nice rocky place with wide vistas of the planes below. Full moon shone brightly in the sky with a few stars flickering here and there, and dots of light from Chikballapur town a couple of kilometers away sparkled below. A gentle breeze blew continuously and rejuvenated us from the tiresome climb. Tripods came out from the bags and cameras mounted on them, we started clicking the endless vistas below. It was nearly half an hour before the guide overpowered us and forced us to move on.
The bridle path to the peak took us through patches of boulder strewn shrub jungle with a few big trees here and there. It got steeper as we moved up. We were deceived each time when we looked up and presumed it is going to take only a few more minutes to the top. We finally made it in little more than two and a half hours, tired and hungry.
On the top of the hill is a small rocky plateau with a short wall assembled with rocks, covering the perimeter of the plateau and making up the Tipu’s fort. In the middle stands a small ancient temple dedicated to Lord Ganesha. Once at the top, strong westward wind blew relentlessly and brought the temperature down by many degrees from the place where we started. Getting into the temple was the only way to escape the wind but the temptation of the bright moonlight and views of the barely visible plains below kept us outdoors. Around 4 am we were suddenly encompassed in thick fog with hardly any visibility, when we decided to pitch our tents and make an attempt to sleep.
The chill of the wind hardly allowed us to get any shuteye, and unwillingness to miss the sunrise meant we were up in no time. We woke up in the bitter cold, to see the entire world below us covered in clouds even when the altitude where we stood had a clear weather. A few summits in the distance came into view on and off as the clouds played with the wind. It was like a large pile of cotton candy spread on the earth as we looked from a height, and I wished we could float among them. When the sun came, he came up from the layer of clouds below like a small orange ball far away in the horizon. Once again cameras came out from the bags and tripods were laid out to capture those beautiful moments forever. The magic lasted for nearly thirty minutes when eventually the fog cleared to make way for a bright day. We then made our way down, still finding it hard to believe that we have a place so beautiful, so close to the city.
Information
Skandagiri is 60km from Bangalore and is located along the same range as Nandi Hills. To reach Skandagiri, drive from Bangalore to Chikballapur(55km) on NH7 where you have to turn left and drive for another 5km. The trek begins from a small temple called Papagni Matha located at Kalwarahalli village. Once you are in Chikballapur ask for directions to Papagni Matha to make sure you are not lost.
The trek to the peak is steep at sections and one needs to be reasonably fit. It takes two to three hours to get to the top depending on your fitness. You can hire guides from Kalwarahalli village at the base of Skandagiri. Forest department charges an entry fee of Rs.15 on weekends.