I have put this in S & N because it has refereces to Nature in it. I wish one day i could hear the Leopard roar in the Galiuat.
Getting a ‘mountain’ high
A group of eight trekkers make their way to the Miranjani top to celebrate the 2010 snowfall
As told to Syrrina Ahsan Ali Haque
What pulls trekkers, rock climbers, and mountaineers to climb a mountain and arrive at its peak? Gao Xinjiag, a Nobel Laureate, in his acclaimed novel ‘Soul Mountain’, discusses how there is a strong affiliation between the metaphysical soul and the physical mountain. The height of the mountain provides the uplift that the soul needs, and during the course of climbing, mountaineers venture into an inward journey.
It is this kind of uplift that the eight snow walkers yearn for when they venture out to surmount the summit of Miranjani.
Nathiagali welcomes them with the first dense snow. The entire region shines in its whiteness; the shimmer of the moonlight. It is difficult to discern whether the moon is the earth or the earth a mere reflection of the moon. The trees, huts and trellised rooftops are bed partners to the soft and supple snowflakes. Magical is too clichéd a word for the experience, however, magical it is. The colour of the snow brings brightness within to match the scenery around.
They are booked at a rest house to combat the below freezing temperatures, but they prefer to sleep in sleeping bags within the sheer confines of a measly parachute tent.
Next morning, the sunrise brings with it a new set of colours, shading the whiteness with tones of orange. This is the ambience that the travellers set about to explore, entering a spiritual world through their physical feat.
Miranjani regally erect, silent and stoic in its stature tacitly welcomes the venturers. The task is uphill needless to say. The travellers hire four horses to carry their amenities, along with the guides. These horses can be mounted upon if and when need arises.
Since Miranjani is the highest point in the region between Murree and Thandiani, it accords a multi-angular view of the surrounding terrain, even at its foot. The trail that starts behind the Governor House, is bordered by cedars, maples, oaks, pines and walnut trees, some leafless, whilst others standing in their coniferous glory. The multiple fragrances emitting from variant breeds of plantation greets the travellers.
Soon, the chattering sound of monkeys, high up on the trees, frolicking about, stuns the trekkers. The crows evolve into ravens, and their croaking echoes across, making it impossible to figure out the distance of their presence. In the same way, if a leopard is to roar it will be difficult to discern the vicinity of its existence. It may well be in the neighbouring mountain ranges. Mukshpuri has been wired for protection from these cats.
World Wildlife Fund had initially bred these feline creatures in this forest due to the conducive environment. In 2006, an alleged cat had been the source of havoc for cattle and wayfarers. However, the alleged cat without being proven guilty now resides in the Forest Museum, labelled as ‘The Ghost of The Galiyat’. These trekkers are devoid of any fears, they have to reach the top.
The gradient is steep at the bottom, and makes the climb a breathless experience. As the body is tuned to the task, the slope becomes less cumbersome, and more of an adrenaline rush. This is the addictive quality of climbing. Why do mountaineers venture into hazardous conditions to climb Everest, K-2, or Nanga Parbat, and do so repeatedly? The physical explanation comes from the rising hormones, but the rise in the spirits comes from the quest for seeing beyond the physical. The multi-dimensional panorama of the mountainous range is in itself a feeling of ‘high’.
Elated from within, the trekkers march their way through the less steep trail, each time turning to view a new scene, a new vista. The slippery snow makes it tricky for the spiky shoes to hold ground, but the horses’ hooves seem to be in sync with the slate, snow, and the slushy earth. However, even the hooves are unnatural to the surrounding – so the horses can mount only 30 percent of the way. Gripping the ground, at the same time, going against gravity is not an easy task. At times the knees tend to shift in their caps, the heartbeat out of its case, yet the climbers move on.
After a six-hour climb through oakwood, the climbers arrive at the meadows, and the steep climb slackens a little until finally they reach the top.
The horsemen free the horses of the load of the climbers. Liberated from this, the horses gallop off into the contrast of lush green and the glittering snow. Horses and the meadows, the multiple mountaintops, the distant sound of the kingfisher, and the monkeys become one. It is there at the top of the world, above the dense forest that the eight men from the city felt free.
They are a part of the landscape. They can see Kashmir on one side, Kaghan on the other, Murree from another angle, and the capital Islamabad from yet another. They gleam in the glory of the spectacle, and reverberate to face the soulless mountains of plazas and brick houses back home in the jungle called the city.