Rudraprayag -> Devprayag -> Salda (8.5.25)

Bird's eye view:

So here we were, sitting in front of our small wooden cabin in the pine woods, sipping hot chocolate.

How did THAT happen?

It is a characteristic of road trips that plans change. Today we were supposed to be touching Devprayag and carrying on to Tehri dam for two nights. Yesterday, pre dinner, at Rudraprayag, we decided that sitting at Tehri for two nights gazing at a reservoir would be unsuitable for our fertile young minds. Let’s cut down Tehri to one night and stay at Devprayag for one night before that. Finally, Devprayag also did not appeal to us for staying, so we hunted out a property in the pine forests nearby (Google maps zindabad), an hour from Devprayag, and MakeMyTrip was deployed once again. We simultaneously booked the GMVN property at Tehri for the night after. Pricey one, by GMVN standards.

So, today, we travelled first to Devprayag, spent time at the sangam, then carried on to this resort in the woods, at a place called Salda, on the Devprayag-Pauri route. Pauri, incidentally, is another beautiful place, we are told, as yet untouched by the tourist masses.

Leaving Rudraprayag (8.30 am):

We woke to a misty Alaknanda, continuing her dignified shimmering below our hotel. For a change, we had puri bhaji (I) and butter toast (Panna), and the respite from alu paratha was palpable. As we loaded our Punch and rolled out, the sun also rolled out and shone brightly on us for the next eight hours. This was a good omen, we thought, nodding and smiling, since a bright sun would really bring to life the colours of the sangam waters at Devprayag.

The roads were determinedly two-lane now, and with cars zipping at 60-70 kmph (not ours, I tripped along at a merry 40-50, causing the average BP in Uttarakhand to rise), it felt more like an NH in the plains than in the mountains. We were following the Alaknanda, travelling roughly west. As we descended steadily to lower levels, the river broadened and slowed further, taking on characteristics of the Hooghly at Kolkata - still and watchful, the flow barely perceptible, enabling widespread farming on both banks.

Reaching Devprayag (11.00):

We passed a few localities on the way, the most significant town being Srinagar, around an hour out of Rudraprayag. With a population around 40,000 it was oriented along the NH7 that we were travelling on, the road narrowing in response to the original town’s dimensions. I was stuck behind a bus that drove up the incline ponderously, waiting for  even a single passenger who might have waved from an upstair window. It was always difficult to know whether it had stopped for an oncoming vehicle, in which case I should also wait obediently behind it, or whether it was just waiting for passengers, in which case I should try to pass it. Sometimes, in trying the latter, I had found the former to be the case, and had had to reverse a considerable distance, facing glares from all and sundry.

Just before we reached Devprayag, we noticed that we were passing a river that looked markedly different - fast, frothy and emerald green. It was the mighty Bhagirathi, rushing to join Alaknanda at the sangam ahead. We could not prevent ourselves from parking inconsiderately just where we were and start oohing and aahing. The bright sun beat down on the torrent below, enhancing its sparkle many times.

As we rolled up behind the slow traffic at Devprayag and approached the point nearest the sangam below, from where people walk downward on stairways for almost a kilometer, we realised that finding legal parking was almost an impossibility. As we passed way beyond, we decided to just park our car and risk it. But a fruit-seller next to our car, whom we had asked whether it was okay to park here, shook his head and assured us that it will be towed away. Police were very strict around here. 

However, there was another way, he said. If we went down a small inclined road, crossed a bridge, then drove along a dirt road to a parking meant for cremation, we could walk for around 500 m and arrive at the sangam steps from the other side. So lucky for us we met the Good Samaritan, because, following his instructions, it was practically no effort for us reaching the sangam steps and walking down to the spot.

This was the mother of sangams in this trip. Both the rivers, Alaknanda and Bhagirathi were in high volume, and the latter was light emerald green, which, when meeting the brownish colour of Alaknanda, created that clear divide in the flowing water for almost a mile. Post sangam, the river is called Ganga, so some people consider this to be the source of Ganga as well, and not Gangotri, which is technically the start of Bhagirathi. At Devprayag, does Alaknanda retain its identity downstream, or Bhagirathi does? It is difficult to say, as both are equally powerful here.

Panna took a dip at the sangam, which had been chained off to assist bathers. Although the water was cold, Devprayag was boiling at 30 degC, being at just 2700 ft, about the height of Burj Khalifa in Dubai. So Panna simply sat around till her clothes were semi-dry. There were a couple of changing rooms to assist bathers, and many women were using the facility. Although there was a rush, there was no unruliness, We sat there for around 30 mins more to witness the Bhagirathi, which is a river one can never tire of.

Reaching Shiv Forest Villas at Salda (1.30 pm):

We had called ahead to the property to tell them that we would have lunch there, so arriving at lunchtime at a remote place held no terrors for us. And remote it was. We caught the Devprayag-Pauri road and wound our way around a forested mountain to a small off-road stretch that was marked “Way to Shiv Forest Villas” at intervals of 100 meters, in case we missed it and fell off the deep end. The manager Mr Chetan had been periodically checking our progress, however. 

The resort was a collection of wooden cottages and synthetic domes, set at various levels on the hillside. Our cottage was halfway up the slope, to which we huffed and puffed, asking why we had not been assigned a lower cottage. “But the restaurant is right on top sir,” said the porter, and we craned our necks upward to see a bit of roof poking out in the distance. Seeing our dismay, Chetanji promptly assigned us a scooty, which we respectfully declined. We had not negotiated miles of mountains in our Punch, to finally come a cropper on a scooty, which we may have last ridden in our twenties. The cottage was a beauty, though smallish, with a loft that could accommodate three more people. 

After a bit of freshening up, we climbed further to the restaurant and had a late lunch. I will not get into details. You can refer yesterday’s blog if you want to know what we had. At that level, there were amusement and game areas for kids, plus a library. Someone had put in some effort here. In winter, the Himalayan peaks are visible all around, it seems.

Power comes and goes, as in most mountain places. We pulled the curtains and hit the snooze button for an hour, and woke up to the sound of a few skeletons fighting on the metal roof. That is to say, it had started raining. The temperature dropped a bit, and we sat in chairs and swings outside our cottage, enjoying the smells and the sounds of the pine forest all around. Aahh…

We ordered dinner in, a simple one of roti and egg bhurji. I think we had non-veg after quite a few days, since during the char dham yatra season, almost all visitors are vegetarian, and most hotels also stick to a vegetarian menu. Anyway, our protein quota has been met.

Tomorrow we leave for Tehri, where we will stay beside a reservoir.

Photo credits: Panna Rashmi Ray