Bird’s eye view:
Sitting at the small balcony next to our room, having a cup of hot chocolate while watching the lazy Alaknanda shimmer by, we can truly say that it was a relaxed day, although we drove more than 70 kms from Sari village in Chopta Valley to Rudraprayag, the famous sangam of Mandakini and Alaknanda.
We left around 8.30 am and reached our hotel here close to 12.00 noon. Roads were mostly good, the weather sunny. Rudraprayag, at a mere 3,000 ft, was roasting at 26 degC.
Leaving Chopta Valley (8.30 am):
Although today’s jaunt was known to be small, we wanted to leave early, so that we had enough time to reach. What with the continued days of rain (including heavy showers last night) increasing the risk of landslides, and the country conducting ‘readiness’ exercises on the 7th, it would be prudent to expect that there might be delays on the road.
Mahavirji’s two kids, Akshit and Vaishnavi, said goodbye to us at 6.30 am before they left for school, exhorting us to visit again in winter, when there would be “soooo much snow”, indicating a height in excess of her 4-feet stature. After we had consumed the mandatory alu paratha, paid our bill, loaded our luggage with Mahavirji’s help (he did most of the heavy lifting up the stone steps), we found that the way towards Rudraprayag had been closed with two cones and a tape.
Now I know we are well-loved and people do not like to see us leave, but this was carrying entanglement too far. “Road painting,” said our host laconically. “Maybe an hour. Aap bathiye.” This was extreme road beautification, I felt, if the arterial connections had to be closed off in order to paint white dotted lines in the centre of the road. Further probing revealed that he meant patchwork repair where a thin layer of pitch and grated chips are applied to bring back the smooth surface.
As I had said earlier, roadworks are carried out pretty fast around here, and we were able to leave just after 30 mins of small talk. Mahavirji used to be a tour operator with his Bolero, doing mainly the Panch Kedar circuit, which consist of the temples of Kedarnath, Tunganath, Rudranath, Madhyamaheshwar and Kalpeshwar. He had a lot of Bengali clients too, before Covid wiped out that business, and he switched to building and managing his homestay. We discussed ways and means to market his homestay better, since he wanted to add four more rooms and wanted to be able to differentiate his product, competing as he was against the tents where there was no electricity or water, and the bed was a mattress on the grounds. “Log to price aur jhoota picture dekhke behek jate hain.” We promised some word-of-mouth marketing from our side.
Coffee with Mandakini (9.30 am):
Our drive was steadily downhill today. Within half an hour, we had completed our westward travel, to Ukhimath, a town made famous for housing the Omkareshwar temple, which is the winter home for both Lord Kedarnath and Madhyamaheshwar. The roads were pretty narrow till then, the usual single track mountain road. At Ukhimath, our travel turned southward (northward would have taken us towards Kedarnath), and we started following the banks of the Mandakini.
Memory is such a funny thing. As soon as we saw the river, I was reminded of the popular film of our student days Ram Teri Ganga Maili, just because it catapulted to fame the heroine Mandakini, bathing in the mountainous Ganga river. No connection with this poor river at all.
Mandakini appeared here as a thinnish river, as if on an intermittent fasting diet, a little brownish from all the rain-washed soil, quite maili so to speak. We had hoped to see a feisty green river, but that was not to be. We stopped for coffee to celebrate meeting her, and spent some time there, enjoying a cup and a lovely bun-muska.
From this point onward, we hit the NH107, two-lane right up to Rudraprayag, and driving was a breeze.
Chappals at Agyastamuni (10.30 am):
Now this would not normally qualify as an event of enduring memory, were it not for the fact that it showed up the typical conundrum a hill driver faces when trying to shop in a hilly town.
I had lost my Keetos and chappals when we forgot to carry them with us when leaving our room at Joshimath. Being dependent just on sneakers was dangerous, and I needed a second line of defence in case the first line got wet or something. So we thought we will buy a pair of slippers from a passing town.
The conundrum is this. If the town is too small, it will not have a shoe shop. If the town is too big, or of decent size, it will have shoe shops, but the marketplace will be so crowded and narrow that you cannot park on the street. After a couple of false starts (false stops, actually), we were passing Agyastamuni, and we stopped at the wayside. I asked Panna to pop into a shoe shop opposite and just pick up any damn slipper close to my size. Hardly had she disappeared inside, one cop was at my car window, like a jack-in-the box.
“Saar, move along Saar. Else fine of 1000”.
“Oh, ho my wife just went into the shoe store.”
“Inspection today Saar. SP coming. Shoe store means she will surely take time Saar.”
“Where can I park then?”
“Nowhere Saar. Not today. OK, tell her to be quick.” And he stood a few feet away, nervously twirling his moustache, no doubt hoping that my wife arrived before the SP. She did, and we took off fast, burning rubber. Who said Uttarakhand police were not courteous?
Reaching Rudraprayag (12.00 noon):
The best hotel in Rudraprayag is the GMVN, located just above the sangam. We had not been able to get a booking there, but still took a chance. We were anyway booked with another hotel with a token advance, which we were willing to forego if GMVN waved a magic wand. But that was not to be. The only room they had free was way above our budget, if we factor in the money we would lose at cancelling the other one.
We took a look at the sangam from the vantage point, though. Both Mandakini and Alaknanda were broader rivers here, though fast. Normally, Mandakini, which flows in from the north, would be a marked green colour, compared to the Alaknanda, which flows in from the east, and has a greyish colour. But the Mandakini was also infected with the brownish tint, so the difference was hardly perceptible. So we told ourselves that we did not really miss anything great this time, not staying at the GMVN.
Rudraprayag is the gateway of tourists coming up through Haridwar, Rishikesh and Devprayag, in order to access Kedarnath and Badrinath beyond. Consequently there is a lot of transit traffic here, that adds on to the 250,000 odd population. Legend has it that Lord Shiva appeared in this Rudra image here to Narada, hence the name. The town is popular with religious tourists for the Rudranath temple and the Koteshwar Mahadev temple, among others.
Having received a cold response from GMVN, we carried on to our original booking, the Hotel Mandakini, which was also well-located just above the downstream Alaknanda river.
After a delayed check-in (the previous guests had found it difficult to tear themselves away within their scheduled checkout time), we climbed to our second floor room. We had a riverside room, with an attached balcony, and we decided to make the most of the room by sitting and enjoying nature to the fullest. Beyond the river, the mountain again rose in front of us, and the hurly-burly of Rudraprayag town was effectively shielded from our view.
So we took a luxurious bath, and placed our lunch order. I am not a cold weather person as such, and so relieved was I at having arrived at a place that sported a temperature above international airport standard, that I happily put on the AC and a pair of shorts. A light lunch (rice, daal, mixed veg) in the room was just what the doctor ordered.
A snooze later, we watched the sun set beyond the hill. Alaknanda remained unmoved and muddy, refusing to go with the orange sunset, simply shimmering along like a veiled Lady Alak attending the graveyard service of a close friend.
Tomorrow we drive to Devprayag.
Photo credits: Panna Rashmi Ray
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