Bird’s eye view:
Another 100 km drive today. From our Uttarkashi homestay, we travelled 80 km to Gangotri, then retraced our steps for 20 km to Harsil, a beautiful valley, a far better place to stay than the congested Gangotri. We left Uttarkashi around 8.30 am, reached Gangotri at 12.30 pm, and left it again at 1.45 pm, clocking in at our Harsil homestay at 3.00 pm.
Gangotri is at 10,200 ft. When we reached, it was drizzling lightly and the temperature was around 9 degC. Harsil, on the other hand, is at 9,000 ft, but it felt more chilly here.
Road quality to Gangotri is a bit of a mixed bag. There are stretches where two big vehicles can travel side by side for a couple of kilometers, but mostly, it is a single lane road, though in fairly good condition. The usual driving skills apply.
But all in all, we had a wonderful drive and a great day.
Leaving Uttarkashi (8.30 am):
Uttarkashi had been a simple stopover for us. The homestay was nice, with the river flowing a five minute walk away. But we never got to see the river, only heard its muted roar throughout the night, since it rained throughout the evening, and even in the morning, threatened to let loose at any instance. Therefore, we downed a breakfast of poha, pushed off. I was slightly keen to move since I was unsure of the road traffic. Although we were not planning to stand in the darshan line for Gangotri temple, we still wanted to reach the place where we could touch Bhagirathi.
Khedi waterfall (8.45 am):
Right off the bat, we stopped at a waterfall. What the Khedi lacked in height, it made up in volume. Post the rains - and Uttarkashi had been featuring in each and every weather warning - the small waterfall had become a torrent. We went down to the viewing platform and promptly got drenched in the fine spray. The Bhagirathi was flowing pretty fast here, though muddy from the soil erosion.
Photo point 1(9.30 am):
As per plan, we took a break after an hour of driving. The Bhagirathi was still bouncy here, competing with a bus load of tourists who were making reels in different formats, with ladies jumping in different directions, expecting to be filmed for posterity. We found some secluded corners here and there for our own selfies.
It is indeed impressive how well these huge buses drive on this single lane road, practically bullying others out of the way. Unlike the local taxis, we were in no particular hurry, so I would happily tail one bus around the bends, like a tug following an icebreaker in the icy arctic sea. From time to time, I was forced to go it alone, and then I would hone my skills on spatial judgement, trying to pass every car without coming to a complete stop. The local drivers have this skill of never slowing down, not around a blind curve, nor when passing another car, and they are able to maintain their average speed well above 40 kmph.
Photo point 2 (10.30 am):
One thing must be said, that in terms of beauty, this route from Uttarkashi to Gangotri can hold its own against any route worldwide. What it lacks in manicuring, it makes up in sheer in-your-face Nature. Here would be a mountain thick with forests, and there a fast-flowing river, not necessarily cute, but full of raw power at this altitude. Suddenly there would be a waterfall around a bend, turning the road awash with flowing water. On the right, the valley will suddenly vanish, so steep would be the fall, while on the left, the rock hewn cliff would bend overhead, challenging two cars to pass. A passing cloud would wrap everything in mist, forcing us to switch on headlamps, and then again sunlight would break through and light up the opposite mountain in golden hues. If I was driving in Switzerland, I would face beauty consistently, but here, in Devbhoomi, beauty is spiced up with an ever-changing landscape.
In this stoppage, we suddenly found that Bhagirathi had become practically like a river meeting the sea in a delta, so large was the silt and pebble ridden banks, and so slow its flow meandering through it, as if looking for a dropped purse.
Reaching Gangotri (12.15 pm):
The roads from Harsil (where we will come back later) to Gangotri was like a dream, a wide two lane. For the first time NH34 really lived up to its name today. As we approached the town, we could see Tempo Travellers parked on both sides, while we were still more than a kilometer away. Parking is always a worry in this scenario, especially because it had been raining for the last half an hour, and I surrendered our fate to the police. They were doing a great job, in fact, and within 20 mins we had been able to drive down a slope to a supposedly paid parking lot, and been able to give our Punch a safe berth.
While we were waiting for parking, Panna had displayed her acrobatic skills by crawling and stretching across the rear seat and delving deep into the dicky space for our raincoats. Don’t ask me how she did it; all I know that for a couple of minutes, I could only see her boots out of the corner of my left eye! The raincoats were our keepsake from our monsoon mahayatra tour, when w there were days we had practically lived in them. So we stepped out into the pitter patter of God’s little feet, in terms of rain, and we walked up the 500 m distance to the main gate of the complex.
Inside the gate was a path, and lining the path were shops and shops. Curios, puja stuff and food joints vied with each other in space and noise, and the human throng ebbing and flowing, each intent in their small worlds, created an amazing mosaic of humanity. Most of the crowd were collecting time slot tokens from a counter at the gate for darshan, and they would probably hang around in line for 2-3 hours. The rain did not dampen anyone’s enthusiasm by an iota.
We were not planning to go to the temple, so we veered right and went down the steps to the bathing ghats. The Bhagirathi was in full action here, racing and tumbling across submerged rocks, the waves and eddies a furious signature written with a flourish on the river. The roar was deafening, and I had to shout to make Panna realise that I was trying to communicate something to her. Panna filled up a couple of small bottles for relatives back home. There were a couple of devotees who had risen above their sensory feelings, in that they were going in for a bare-bodied dip in the freezing water. The river was originating from a glacier melt at Gomukh, just 14 km away, so whether the thermometer was notched in Celsius or Fahrenheit, the cold was bone-chilling, even for the enlightened.
We popped into a cafe for some stomach warming adrak tea and sat there watching the river do its dance. Breakdance or salsa, I wondered. Breakdance, if I wonder at the unpredictability of the watery bounce and flounce. Salsa, if I look at the innate grace of the tons of water barreling through the narrow confines here, twisting and turning around the sharp bends. One can gaze at it for ever.
We walked back through the market street once again and squeezed into a table in Shiv restaurant, that was doing roaring business. For some weird reason, we ordered idli. Perhaps our tummies were sending a subliminal message that “Guys, go slow.” Idli was nice, but all around people were consuming hot punjabi thalis! So we added on a plate of chana and tandoori rotis, which was like ambrosia in that rainy weather.
We walked back to our car, grabbing some jalebis on the way, and were relieved to find the Punch safe and sound. The rain had stopped, and we needed to travel to Harsil, which was one hour away.
Reaching Harsil (3.00 pm):
When we were looking for a place to spend the night, our first option had, of course, been Gangotri itself, but we did not find a place we liked. Thank God we didn’t, because we would have hated to have stayed in the congested place that would be resounding with human enthusiasm at all hours. Instead Panna had located a homestay at Harsil village, which is in a valley. This place, River Edge Homestay, turned out to be exactly that. After some convoluted driving on the back-streets of Harsil, we finally located the signboard in the middle of nowhere. Two boys appeared like djinns and lugged our bags inside the flora for five minutes, till we came upon a very pretty place located inside an orchard.
Rooms were nice, the owner was very friendly, but what bowled us over, especially Panna, that from the orchard, steps went down right to the Bhagirathi, where she was practically in the same feisty avatar as at Gangotri. One could not imagine a more intimate meeting with the big G. Beyond the river, the mountain rose almost sheer, with dense pine foliage, the cars passing high above barely visible in flashes. And beyond the green hills, wearing wisps of clouds, were the snowy peaks of the Himalayas. The beauty of the location was overwhelming. We just sat there for almost an hour, till the sun dipped behind the mountain in front, and the air suddenly took on a nip.
Meanwhile, although it was not judicious to bathe here, given the strength of the current, Panna had scrambled down the final layer of boulders and dipped her feet in the water. She says, it was a wonder she did not catch frostbite. I, seated at a prudent distance, could hear her squealing and see her rubbing her feet. After that, she did not interact much with the torrent, except to hunt for a lingam stone. Got cold feet, so to say.
Given that Harsil Valley was displaying a distinct coldness, we enquired with the owner and were assured that it might drop to 3-4 degC at night! I promptly made a trip to our car and stocked up on additional woollens in the room. However warm may be our. Welcome, sometimes the skin needs support.
This homestay had a ‘food inclusive’ plan, so we did not have much of a choice for dinner items. Forsooth , we ended up having roti, daal and mix veg. That’s serendipity, not my machination.
Tomorrow we travel back to Uttarkashi.
Photo credits: Panna Rashmi Ray
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