Footloose in Garhwal

For nine days, the Himalayas enthralled and overwhelmed us with their
majesty, sagacity and ferocity

- BIJOY VENUGOPAL

From left: Rajeev, Sahastra, Sunita, Jennifer, Satish and me

T
o a south Indian like me, the Himalayas present the ultimate test of endurance.
Away from the sunny climes to which I was habituated, suffering altitude sickness
on peaks six thousand feet above the tallest in my part of the world, being
relentlessly pelted by hailstones, groaning to every creak of my knees as I trudged
downhill, falling asleep to the chatter of my own teeth… and, most of all, learning to love
all of it. Eventually, to return to reality with birdsong playing in my head and a haunting
call to return to this paradise.

Here’s where it all started…

April 27, 2007:

Six birders and birders-in-the-making – three from Bangalore and three from Delhi – set
out on a long-awaited journey that would have us spend 10 days in the Garhwal

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 2

Himalayas. Two of our Delhi companions – Sunita Chaudhry and Jennifer Nandi – were
seasoned birders and intimately familiar with Himalayan species. The rest of us - Rajeev
Jain, Satish Srivastava, Sahastrarashmi and I, in ascending order - considered ourselves
birders too.

To say things didn’t start too smoothly would be an understatement. Aboard the
Ranikhet Express to Kathgodam from Delhi, we realized something had gone amiss with
our Internet reservations. Since we had only two RAC berths (which went to the ladies by
default), the rest of us honey -talked the train attendant and the TTE into letting us sleep
on the floor among slippers and luggage. I was somewhat luckier – I got to sleep in the
linen compartment. It had the cozy feel of a coffin but anything was better than sniffing
at someone’s shoes between snores. The attendant, a wiry mephistophelian fellow with a
warm heart tucked somewhere in his body, compassionately turned on the air-
conditioning full blast as the night wore on. Maybe he unwittingly consigned us to a state
of deep-freeze hibernation much as we do cockroaches before a dissection.

Day 0 (April 28):

W e freshened up at Kathgodam, the last railhead on our route. From the station, we
could see the Shivaliks looming over us. We drove past forests of chir pine, poplar,
Persian lilac, horse chestnut, teak and rhododendron. Even clumps of Mimosa sinensis
with their frothy snot-green flowers. Hedges of pomegranate burst joyously into view
with orange flowers. Occasionally, the shocking red of a coral tree lit up the dun
landscape. For nearly six hours our vehicle
wound along the pebbly River Kosi. We drove
past Bhimtal, a touristy lake sans any birds, and
Almora, a horrid example of a "charming hill
town". En route we spotted Pied Bushchats,
Oriental Magpie-Robins (whose song changes
with where he's been "on his last vacation"),
Crested Buntings, a pair of Common Kestrels and
White-cheeked Bulbuls. Occasionally, when I
identified a bird in haste, Jennifer would frown
above her dark glares (her seeing-eyes having
unfortunately snapped in two on the train) and
purse her lips (ominous sign, we learned as the
trip wore on). Then she would extricate a trip-
worn copy of Grimskipp and point out my faux
pas.

At a watering stop, we came across Barn

Swallows nesting between shop rafters and a
male Paradise Flycatcher trailing his brilliant
white streamers. As we began to ascend, the White-Cheeked Bulbuls were replaced by
their Elvis Presley-aping hillbilly cousins - the Himalayan Bulbuls. My day-pack had
begun to come apart even before we boarded the train and the prospect of it being
completely dismembered during the trek was imminent. We searched town after town,
village after village for a tailor or cobbler or some such. We finally found my saviour at
Gwaldham, almost 50 km from our destination. The stop gave us a good excuse to wolf
down hot aloo paranthas. Satish sampled some local sweetmeats - over the next ten

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 3

days, he asserted himself as a daredevil foodie, unafraid to try anything that didn't have a
manufacturing date.

An afternoon rain was falling somewhere in the hills. As our Tavera swung uphill past
the curves, I could smell the heart of a raincloud. We encountered a drizzle at about 3
pm, by which time we had entered the Himalayas. At Mandoli, we crossed the jade-green
Pindar, a major tributary of the Ganga. At about 4 pm, we pulled up at Loharjung, a pass
at 7,000 feet. Here, we stopped to spend the night at the Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam
guest house, on the roof of which a Blue Whistling Thrush shuffled his wings, showing
off the blue speckles. Hot dinner but no electricity. Cold running water in the bathrooms,
but no courage to bathe.

Day 1 (April 29):

A t 5 AM, I woke to a cuckoo clock. It was, in fact, the bird that had inspired the
contraption – a Eurasian Cuckoo perched on the cypress outside the guest house. It
was bright already. After a breakfast of energy bars, we set out birding at 7 am. Our
heavy luggage – rations, tents, sleeping bags, stove and cooking utensils – travelled on
four mules. We were first introduced to the
younger ones, Kamla and Rekha, who were
soon joined by Tikku and Munni, older mules
who had the biscuit-fawn coat of onagers.

There was a wedding in the village, and a

band arrived. Interesting line-up - apart from
various percussionists, the lead musician
played a portable Casio keyboard holding it
like an accordion. Hooked to a PA system, it
made enough noise to rouse the whole village
on what would otherwise have been a lazy
Sunday morning.

Within an hour of setting out, we had counted

about 50 species, including a Blue-capped
Rock Thrush, plenty of Black-throated and
Green-backed tits, a juvenile Shikra and a Little Pied Flycatcher that we never saw again.
Along the jeep-able road we passed clumps of Horse Chestnut, Oriental Plane (Chinar)
and Chir Pine. A majestic Himalayan Griffon wheeled in the air and perched less than 30
feet away from us on a branch overlooking the valley. Plenty of Kashmir Agamas sunning
themselves on the rocks showing off their bright purple-blue limbs. We met for the first
time a Rufous Sibia (its song is imprinted in my mind) and spotted Eurasian and Black-
headed Jays.

On our descent into the valley we saw Grey-headed Canary Flycatchers, Common Stone
Chats and plenty of Streaked Laughing Thrushes. At the river, I spotted a Brown Dipper
doing its thing. From here, we began a sharp ascent to the village of Didana (7,500 ft)
where we would camp for the night. It was a tough climb, but excellent birding on the
way – the highlights being a Fire-tailed Sunbird and a Pied Thrush (which I missed) and
a Whiskered Yuhina (which I spotted). We stopped for a sattu break. Sattu is roasted
chickpea flour. Mixed with powdered jaggery and water, it tastes like liquid besan
laddoo. Delicious and nourishing. We have plans to patent it, so shh!

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 4

Our guide Devidutt, still reeking of country liquor from his Rs. 300 advance (which he
had pocketed under the pretext of buying fodder for mules he didn't even own), made
bland tea by lighting a fire in a tree hollow. Another hollow above served as a chimney.
Nifty! We pitched camp on an open meadow beside an oak
forest that skirted a murmuring stream. From our vantage,
all the world was a stage. We had a ringside view of an
amphitheatre of towering mountains. Skylights opened in
the cloudy roof of the sky and light poured down at various
angles. Breathtaking. At 4 pm, we were greeted by a mild
hailstorm. Only a taste of things to come. The night was
cold, and we were thankful for our down-lined sleeping
bags.

Day 2 (April 30):

I t was wedding season all the way and nearly everyone in

Didana had gone down to the valley to attend one.
Likewise, every living thing in the Himalayas appeared to
be possessed of febrile spring madness – one big speed-dating marathon, flush with
hormones, ripe with longing and oozing with life-lust. Birds sang themselves hoarse,
sometimes ad nauseam (after two days in Didana I had a knife out for that odious
Brainfever bird).

We birded around the village all morning, and had splendid views of Verditer
Flycatchers, Blue Whistling Thrushes, Whiskered and Stripe-throated Yuhinas, Rufous
Sibias, Rosefinches, Greenfinches, Ultramarine Flycatchers, Rusty-tailed Flycatchers,
Bar-tailed Tree Creepers, White-tailed Nuthatches, Fire-Tailed and Green-Tailed
Sunbirds, Himalayan Woodpeckers, Pied Thrushes, Mistle Thrushes and a variety of
laughing thrushes including
the Streaked, Striated and
the Variegated, and all three
species of Blackbirds – the
Eurasian, the Grey -Winged
and the White-Collared. Too
much minutiae for non-
birders, but that list is likely
to make others of our fea ther
evaporate with envy!

At 4 pm, we had a hellraiser

of a hailstorm, as if huge
chunks of the frozen sky were
being torn asunder. We
prayed it wouldn't rip our
tent apart. Our prayers were
answered, but not entirely.
Water discovered a proverbial chink in our armour – a pinhead-sized hole at the base of
our tent – and trickled in to greet us. It's not fun, my friends, to soak your feet wet in icy
runoff when thunder and lightning on one side and hail and wind on the other are
staging a test of strength outside. The storm abated, and we were astonished to discover

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 5

how quickly the porous soil drains. By 6 pm, the only traces of the storm were a few
stubborn clusters of ice. The mule guys, for whom our respect began to grow, organised
dinner from someone in the village - dal and rotis with an aloo-saag sabzi. I sent up a
prayer for the hot food that would help us get through the cold, cold night. We had
pitched tent on a slope, and I was near the flap. Every time someone next to me or three
places removed shifted in his sleep, I got pushed further and further. Cramped against
the tent, my left knee froze during the night and in the morning, when I set out to do my
business, I must have strained it further. It felt like a cartilage tear - painful, almost
crippling. And thanks to all the feet-soaking, I caught a cold.

Day 3 (May 1):

I t's all uphill from here. We had to make it to Bedni Bugyal, an alpine meadow at
11,000 feet, by 2 pm or before the next hailstorm (whichever was earlier). Weather
was lovely all morning – blue skies and a cool breeze. We noticed that crystals of ice were
still buried intact under quilts of leaf litter - natural refrigeration! Hill Partridges called
morosely. Walking ahead, I was lucky to catch a glimpse of a Kalij Pheasant, handsome
in black, white and red. The woods were quiet but we came across mixed hunting parties
of White-throated Laughingthrushes, assorted tits and flycatchers, Rusty -flanked Tree-
creepers and White-tailed Nuthatches.

We ascended steeply through forests of red and pink rhododendron and moss-girded oak
encrusted with lichens. Higher up, the topography of the forest changed – conifers like
magnificent deodars, pine and spruce appeared. We stepped into a mountain glade

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 6

where a fallen tree encrusted with moss was enacting the life cycle of the forest in
miniature (a fallen tree serves as a 'nurse log' for new growth in an old growth forest).
We wandered through a forest of stunted, haunted oak trees that reminded me very
much of hiking in Muir Woods, California. Another discovery: Young deodar leaves
secrete a fine, heady fragrance (so good that it would probably cost 4000 bucks if you
tried to buy a bottle). I crushed and rubbed some on my wrist - natural deodar-ant!

The weather was fine until we crossed the tree line above 10,000 feet and wandered into
Ali Bugyal, a breathtaking alpine meadow of grassy, rolling hills straight out of The Lord
of the Rings. Looking completely out of place, a few cows and buffaloes grazed languidly
and looked curious askance at us as we walked past. But I was in no mood to make
friends. My knee hurt and the weather looked ominous.

Somewhere along the way, my mind went astray. I felt a parching thirst and realised I
had run out of water. My knee hurt and I felt I couldn't walk any more. I left the group
briefly and wandered down to a ravine in search of water. I could swear I heard it
gushing - but it was dry. Devidutt said we'd find water in the spring but I snapped at him.
My sanity seemed to be deserting me - I had thoughts of death and darkness. Satish took
my backpack so I could walk without straining my knee. And then, just as we had feared,
an announcement from the skies. The rain gods must have parleyed and voted not to
drench us to the bone, because what they sent down was a gentle shower of hail. Ice
crystals scattered around us like bright prismatic pearls. For the better part of two hours,
we walked on the edge of plunging ravines and dizzying drops.

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 7

To me, the whole scenery transformed into the ecclesiastical Valley of the Shadow of
Death. Panels from an Amar Chitra Katha comic on the life of Jesus, which I had read as
a child, flashed in my head. I saw Satan (a bit overdone on the makeup) trying to tempt
Jesus (who looked eerily like a Mallu relative with a beard). And then, as the hail
intensified, the Prince song Diamonds and Pearls began to play in full clarity at the back
of my head. Strange, I haven't listened to it in nearly 10 years. I don't remember much of
what happened afterwards, except that I kept calling out to my wife in my head saying
that I would return. Return from
where, I don't know. Sahastra tells
me that I was walking dangerously
close to the edge of the drop, and
he kept pushing me back against
the hillside. I usually have a self-
preserving fear of heights and I
wouldn't do that in my right
senses. That's the key phrase.
Maybe I wasn't in my right senses.
When he saw my trying to drink
water running off my rain jacket,
he stopped and called for Rajeev
who was walking ahead. There was
a bottle with a little Electral water
left. I drank that and ate an energy
bar and felt my light-headedness evaporate. Suddenly, the valley looked beautiful. I
heard Rosy Pipits calling and didn't mind the cold at all. I had travelled far away from
the present during the past half-hour. Where? I wish I could tell. I had been high without
smoking a thing.

It was a longer walk to Bedni than we had estimated. The temperature must have been
close to freezing and our fingertips were numb. Hungry, dehydrated, cold and exhausted
(add altitude sickness to my litany of woes), we reached Bedni Bugyal. I craved a fire the
way I would long for a beer on a hot day – my mind was swimming with thoughts of it.
As if hypnotised, we made straight for a stone hut from which a puffy plume of smoke
climbed reluctantly into the air. This hut was our sustenance for the next two days,
offering us food, warmth and shelter from the storm - life’s simple, simple joys.

Day 4 (May 2):

A fter a night of back-to-back

Technicolor nightmares (blame it on
the altitude, again), I was glad to wake up.
It was bright outside at 4:30 AM.

Bedni Bugyal is fascinating terrain. Above

the tree line at 11,000 feet, it has little
vegetation but meadows of short-cropped
golden-green grass. Wild daisies and
purple primula cover the slopes like a
rash, and there are clumps of startling
yellow marsh marigolds. There is also
some juniper and holly where the meadow

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 8

slopes towards the dwarf rhododendrons on the forest fringe. Vultures hover overhead
looking for carrion – we saw the magnificent Himalayan Griffon and the Lammergeier,
one of the largest flying birds with a wingspan of about 100 inches. We looked out for
Choughs, but didn't see any, though there were plenty of Large-billed Crows with a gruff,
throaty accent. Not much wildlife but for Pikas, tiny, hamster-like animals that scurried
about the stones chomping on grass seeds and flowers. They comprise the primary food
of predatory birds.

We birded a little, spotting a flash of bright blue-black, white and orange that happened
to be a Himalayan Monal, several Rosy Pipits and tiny streaked passerines we suspected
to be Accentors. But within an hour a dense fog enveloped the meadow, which squats like
a bowl in the lap of the mountains. We couldn't see further than 6 feet. So we tottered
about the hillside and made our way back to our huts, where we chomped on dry fruits,
chocolate and biscuits (the ladies later complained to everyone they met about how they
had to go hungry throughout the trip while we hogged our hearts out – we prefer to call it
‘opportunistic feeding’).

An out-of-work camp organiser nearby arranged our lunch – rotis and dal with aloo
sabzi. Simple, delicious stuff. We wandered off optimistically to do some more birding
but the weather forced us back. A hailstorm, double-strength this time, drenched us even
before we were halfway home. Despite wearing four layers, I shivered.

Back in the hut, our guide heated water for tea and soup. We wondered where in this
barren alpine meadow he found wood for the fire. Just as we were about to compliment
him for his resourcefulness, we saw the hole above our heads widen a chink to let in

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 9

some stray hailstones. Our good man was up on the roof of the hut tearing down the
boards. The storm raged for three hours and when it was done, everything around us was
glazed white. More sleep, and more vibrant nightmares in surround sound.

At about midnight, the heavy eating of the day began to tell on me. I had to go, but
remembering a conversation with the mule drivers about leopards lurking in the area
made me nervous. Imagine if they found me in the next valley crouched over with my
butt bared, half-eaten by a leopard – the ignominy, the shame! I held back for an hour
but then I realised that it was either the ice-frosted countryside by moonlight or the
sleep-warm interiors of our stone hut. Being well-bred and scrupulous, I chose the
former. I woke up Satish (Sahastra's instructions: always wake up another person if you
are going out at night) and he too thought it would be a good idea to take a pee. Stepping
outside was like walking into the chiller tray of a refrigerator (not the frost-free type).
The moon was full and the ice-dusted hillside glowed - almost incandescent. I hauled my
turgid bowels up the hill and, with a mixture of deep regret and even greater relief,
ruined the scenery.

Day 5 (May 3):

G lorious morning – two male White-capped Water-Redstarts were duelling for

territory along the stream. Wonderful light and fantastic, if sneaking, views of snow-
capped peaks in the outer range of the Nanda Devi complex – Trishul, Nanda Ghunti,
Shivling and Chaukhamba. All these majestic mountains stand more than 25,000 feet
tall. Too cold to bathe but we washed at the Bedni Ganga, which originates as a trickle

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 10

here among the rocks. Downhill, it becomes a rushing torrent and eventually feeds the
mighty Ganga.

We left Bedni Bugyal, captivated by its beauty and intimidated by its aloofness. Descent
was hard on the knees. The weather gods were up early. A light rain sprinkled down as
we wove through the beautiful oak and rhododendron forest. There were also stands of
blue pine and spruce. Fallen leaves littered the forest floor, creating a thick, slippery
carpet. We enjoyed some fine birding downhill, notably a party of Collared Grosbeaks –
large gaudy finches in stunning orange and black. Hill Partridges and Great Barbets
called mournfully. It was a pageant of warblers, who had us falling over each other trying
to identify them. We saw Western Crowned, Ashy-throated, Lemon-rumped, Yellow
Spectacled, Grey Hooded, Plain Leaf and others. Also, Green-backed, Spot-winged and
Black-throated Tits, a Rufous-bellied Woodpecker and a single Orange-flanked Bush
Robin. We came across a tree full of flycatchers - Asian Brown, Rufous-Gorgeted and
Ultramarine (in various stages of maturity). As we descended, we saw Dusky Crag
Martins twittering as they circled the valley.

The Bedni Ganga

roared from about a
thousand feet
below. By the time
we reached the
river, the sun was
out and the flies
welcomed the
stench of our damp
socks. We reeked
heavily of
woodsmoke from
our smokestack at
Bedni and it was a
relief to peel off
some layers of
clothing. The
thermals came off
for good. From the
valley, we climbed a
bit and took the nearly flat hillside track to Wan, where we would stay the night. Some
birding along the way, including Grey Bushchats, Verditer Flycatchers, Brownish-flanked
Bush-Warblers and a pair of Chestnut-Crowned Laughing Thrushes, which I could not
immediately identify. The guest house, a neat maroon and green wooden structure with a
sloping roof, is located on a hilltop fringed by the tallest deodar trees in all of
Uttaranchal. Behind the guest house is the shrine of Latu, which had just the previous
day celebrated its annual mela amid religious rituals performed by a blindfolded priest.

Three of us made our way down to the valley in the hope of making a phone call. Mission
successful, but it was dark by the time we finished. Predictable denouement: we lost our
way. After w e had clambered up the wrong hill for a kilometre or so, we knew something
was twisted. In the moonless darkness, someone shouted out to us that we were taking
the 'jungle ka rasta'. My knees hollering out in pain, I hobbled back with the others to
the guest house only in time to salvage some cold dinner from our warm and well-fed

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 11

fellow-trekkers who had also borrowed a shot of whiskey from a trio of Canadian tourists
lodged in the next room. But there was comfort, and it wasn't cold. Hot water – two
whole buckets – was an unexpected luxury -on-demand. And here, at 7,800 feet, I had
my first bath in 7 days.

Day 6 (May 4):

A ll night, a Yellow-Throated Marten had bounded heavily on the roof of the guest
house. But for our snoring, we slept like the dead, savouring our first slumber
outside of a sleeping bag in 6 days. In the morning we set out for Kunol, a village eight
kilometres away and our next halt. The trail wound sharply behind the guest house into
the hills. A bit of a climb, and then mostly level walking along the valley. We entered an
oak forest full of drumming woodpeckers and flitting nuthatches and tree-creepers. Lots
of thrushes, too.

Past a waterfall, the trail began to ascend and we had magnificent views of the valley we
had left behind. We climbed steadily towards Kukin Khal, a grassy pass that we had to
cross to reach Kunol. A light rain began to fall and the enchanting morning melted into
dank greyness. Soon, the rain gained strength. Hailstones, some the size of plums,
plopped around us, and we took shelter beneath trees. When it cleared a bit, we had the
luck we deserved. A party of seven Spotted Nutcrackers, uncommonly dainty relatives of
the crow but for their squawky, addled voices, appeared as if from nowhere. We had
unbelievably close views but the cameras stayed in because of the rain. We also watched
a Long-tailed Minivet strut to woo an unseen female.

The rain had turned every forest trail into a runnel. It was a concert of water all around
us - brooks chuckling, streams laughing, rivulets attempting a roar. It was still drizzling
when we left the forest and walked through a meadow bisected by a dry stream bed
towards Kunol. We heard cowbells and through their jangle, a clear and sweet female
voice broke into a Pahadi song. Part-yodel, part-aria but full-throated and spirited
(tragically, this year's Grammies went to a bunch of sourpusses). It was haunting, and
predictably, Satish fell in love with her – Bharti was her name, he found out.

When we reached Kunol, the forest

guest house was closed and the
caretaker was away in another
village. As we waited for the rain to
stop, a couple of boys from the
village, satisfied with the biscuits
we offered them, told us there was
a 'private lodge' where we would
get 'angrezi khana'. I salivated at
the prospect of devouring cheese
omelettes and toast. With fresh
orange juice perhaps? Maybe even
pancakes and maple syrup... And
coffee… mmmmm. We fantasized
shamelessly until one of the boys,
questioned further, mumbled
'parantha'. Dreams dashed, but fair enough. We trooped off to the lodge where we
discovered, to our pleasant surprise, warm quilts and wooden cots where we could

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 12

spread our sleeping bags. And joy of joys, a fire. The rain cleared and we went away to
the village to try our luck with the wireless phones. The people at Kunol were warm and
friendly though they stopped to stare at us like we were visiting from Neptune. Sleep
came thick and fast that night. And the next morning, we slept until eight.

Day 7 (May 5):

T he night's rain continued into the morning. Just when we were ready to abandon all
hope for birding, the clouds parted and the sun peeked out. It's amazing how quickly
everything dries here – damp socks, soggy gloves, musty raincoats, squishy soil,
everything. One of the village women was drying her clothes on the back of a grazing
buffalo – a home-grown adaptation of a clotheshorse, perhaps.

We set out for an afternoon of joyous

birding. The stream near the forest
guest house was the fief of a Plumbeous
Water-Redstart and his dearly beloved.
A Spotted Forktail, normally shy and
retiring, displayed his stunning
Goyaesque chessboard back and
delicately intertwined tail feathers. He
even performed some territorial
daredevilry by chasing away a rival
male amid much piping and twittering.
A Brown Dipper showed off by
swimming effortlessly up the torrent. In
the forest, a Rufous-gorgeted Flycatcher
flaunted his rust-coloured bib. Tree-
creepers and Yellow-billed Blue
Magpies foraged without a care for us.
Blue Whistling Thrushes squabbled in
the trees. A Himalayan Griffon perched
high and still on a deodar for hours on
end, lording over its empire. And
almost a thousand feet overhead a
Lammergeier lurked, twitching its
telltale tail. When the rain finally
arrived, we were safely indoors, sipping
our tea and bickering over missing rations of aam papad.

Day 8 (May 6):

T he last day of our trek and lots of ground to cover before the skies open up. The
morning was bright and sunny with gorgeous views of the valley. Near the village
school, we had lovely views of Common Rosefinches and a pair of Fire-fronted Serins –
ochre finches with burnished wings and bright vermilion tikas. Further on, we saw
Eurasian Jays and Spotted Nutcrackers. We made good time because we were rested and
fresh. It helped that the trail was mostly downhill.

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 13

Our destination was Sitel, a two-horse town where we would leave behind our faithful
companions of the last nine days – four mules and the mule-drivers Raghubir and Jagbir
– and find road transport of some kind to Nandaprayag, the confluence of two of the
finest tributaries of the Ganga – the Nandakini and the Alakananda. Along the way we
had stunning views of Trishul's enormous snow cones. The path wore down to a minor
confluence of the beautiful Nandakini with a little stream, the same one that had gushed
past Kunol. Its aquamarine gush frothing upon the stones, the river raced ahead in an
adolescent torrent. A Crested Kingfisher circled us, piping anxiously. Redstarts made
merry on the stones, the male flying up to a perch and then gliding down in a ‘Look baby,
no hands’ display towards a female that was always looking the other way. We gulped
down our last drink of fresh mountain spring water and crossed the footbridge. An Ashy
Drongo in a nest, more cackling Nutcrackers - some prying open pine cones - and a small
party of Black Bulbuls in the gorge.

Once we were over the hill, we had a familiar visitation: rain. Small hailstones were
included with the package, but I was so glum about leaving this wondrous place that I
didn’t care if it rained brimstone. We crossed the river and reached a paved road and
then on, it was pure urbania. Depressing, but inevitable. We parted with our mule
drivers – bold, tough men with indefatigable spirits and hearts of gold – and boarded a
shared jeep for Nandaprayag. The ladies got seats next to the driver but the four of us
were consigned to the back, perched precariously among sacks of vegetables and grain
along with our copious baggage. As the jeep lurched towards Nandaprayag in
intermittent rain, we took in our last views of the snow-capped peaks.

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 14

For nine days, the Himalayas had enthralled us and overwhelmed us with their majesty,
sagacity and ferocity. But as we drove away, the pristine beauty of the mountains faded
behind us into telltale scars of urban disrepair – barrages across the river, earthmovers,
rusty construction material, soil erosion on the mountainside, piles of garbage and a
profusion of dogs, crows and mynas – those ubiquitous companions of Homo sapiens
that thrive on his wasteful and extravagant misdeeds. At once nauseating, shocking and
numbing - like reading a cocktail of Eliot's Waste Land and Conrad's Heart of Darkness.
Downriver, on our drive towards Rishikesh and later Haridwar, we passed confluence
after confluence of tributaries of the sullied Ganga. All revered and holy places, but I just
couldn’t bear to look without choking on a growing lump in my throat.

Enough chatter, here is the photo album.

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 15

BIRD LIST

1. Accentor (no clear id)

2. Alpine Swift (Apus melba)
3. Ashy Drongo (Dicrurus leucophaeus)
4. Ashy -throated Warbler (Phylloscopus maculipennis)
5 . Asian Brown Flycatcher (Muscicapa dauurica)
6. Asian Paradise Flycatcher (Terpsiphone paradisi)
7 . Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica)
8. Bar-tailed Tree Creeper (Certhia himalayana)
9. Bearded Vulture/ Lammergeier (Gypaetus barbatus)
10. Black Bulbul (Hypsipetes leucocephalus)
11. Black-headed Jay (Garrulus lanceolatus)
12. Black-throated Tit (Aegithalos concinnus)
13. Black-winged Cuckoo-shrike (Coracina melaschistos)
14. Blue-capped Rock Thrush (Monticola cinclorhynchus)
15. Brahminy Starling (Sturnus pagodarum)
16. Brooks’s Leaf Warbler (Phylloscopus subviridis)
17. Brown Dipper (Cinclus pallasii)
18. Brown-backed Needletail (Hirundapus giganteus)
19. Brownish-flanked Bush Warbler (Cettia fortipes)
20. Chestnut-bellied Rock Thrush (Monticola rufiventris)
21. Chestnut-crowned Laughingthrush (Garrulax erythrocephalus)
22. Chestnut-tailed Minla (Minla strigula)
23. Collared Grosbeak (Mycerobas affinis)
24. Common Hawk-Cuckoo (Cuculus varius)
25. Common Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus)
26. Common Rosefinch (Carpodacus erythrinus)
27. Common Stone Chat (Saxicola torquata)
28. Crested Kingfisher (Megaceryle lugubris)
29. Crested Serpent Eagle (Spilornis cheela)
30. Dusky Crag Martin (Hirundo concolor)
31. Egyptian Vulture (Neophron percnopterus)
32. Eurasian Blackbird (Turdus merula)
33. Eurasian Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus)
34. Eurasian Griffon (Gyps himalayensis)
35. Eurasian Jay (Garrulus glandarius)
36. Fire-fronted Serin (Serinus pusillus)
37. Fire-tailed Sunbird (Aethopyga ignicauda)
38. Fulvous-Breasted Woodpecker (Dendrocopos macei)
39. Golden Spectacled Warbler (Seicercus burkii)
40. Great Barbet (Megalaima virens)
41. Green-backed Tit (Parus monticolus)
42. Greenish Warbler (Phylloscopus trochiloides)
43. Green-tailed Sunbird (Aethopyga nipalensis)
44. Grey Bush Chat (Saxicola ferrea)
45. Grey Wagtail (Motacilla cinerea)
46. Grey -headed Canary Flycatcher (Culicicapa ceylonensis)
47. Grey -headed Woodpecker (Picus canus)
48. Grey -Hooded Warbler (Seicercus xanthoschistos)
49. Grey -winged Blackbird (Turdus boulboul)
50. Himalayan Bulbul (Pycnonotus leucogenys)
51. Himalayan Monal (Lophophorus impejanus)
52. Himalayan Woodpecker (Dendrocopos himalayensis)
53. Indian Cuckoo (Cuculus micropterus)
54. Kalij Pheasant (Lophura leucomelanos)

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 16

 55. Large-billed Crow (Corvus macrorhynchos)
56. Large-billed Leaf Warbler (Phylloscopus magnirostris)
57. Lemon-rumped Warbler (Phylloscopus chloronotus)
58. Little Pied Flycatcher (Ficedula westermanni)
59. Long-tailed Minivet (Pericrocotus ethologus)
60. Mistle Thrush (Turdus viscivorus)
61. Orange-flanked Bush Robin (Tarsiger cyanurus)
62. Oriental Magpie Robin (Copsychus saularis)
63. Oriental Turtle Dove (Streptopelia orientalis)
64. Pied Thrush (Zoothera wardii)
65. Plain Leaf-Warbler (Phylloscopus neglectus)
66. Plain-backed Thrush (Zoothera mollissima)
67. Plumbeous Water Redstart (Rhyacornis fuliginosus)
68. Red-billed Blue Magpie (Urocissa erythrorhyncha)
69. Red-rumped Swallow (Hirundo daurica)
70. Red-vented Bulbul (Pycnonotus cafer bengalensis)
71. Rock Bunting (Emberiza cia)
72. Rosy Pipit (Anthus roseatus)
73. Rufous Sibia (Heterophasia capistrata)
74. Rufous Treepie (Dendrocitta vagabunda)
75. Rufous-bellied Woodpecker (Dendrocopos hyperythrus)
76. Rufous-gorgeted Flycatcher (Ficedula strophiata)
77. Russet Sparrow (Passer rutilans)
78. Rusty -flanked Tree-Creeper (Certhia nipalensis)
79. Rusty -tailed Flycatcher (Muscicapa ruficauda)
80. Shikra (Accipiter badius)
81. Short-toed Snake Eagle (Circaetus gallicus)
82. Slaty -backed Flycatcher (Ficedula hodgsonii)
83. Slaty -headed Parakeet (Psittacula himalayana)
84. Spotted Dove (Streptopelia chinensis)
85. Spotted Forktail (Enicurus maculatus)
86. Spotted Laughingthrush (Garrulax ocellatus)
87. Spotted Nutcracker (Nucifraga caryocatactes)
88. Spot-winged Tit (Parus melanolophus)
89. Streaked Laughingthrush (Garrulax lineatus)
90. Striated Laughingthrush (Garrulax striatus)
91. Stripe-throated Yuhina (Yuhina gularis)
92. Ultramarine Flycatcher (Ficedula superciliaris)
93. Variegated Laughingthrush (Garrulax variegatus)
94. Verditer Flycatcher (Eumyias thalassina)
95. Western Crowned-Warbler (Phylloscopus occipitalis)
96. Whiskered Yuhina (Yuhina flavicollis)
97. White-capped Water-Redstart (Chaimarrornis leucocephalus)
98. White-collared Blackbird (Turdus albocionctus)
99. White-eared Bulbul (Pycnonotus leucotis)
100. White-tailed Nuthatch (Sitta himalayensis)
101.White-throated Kingfisher (Halcyon smyrnensis)
102. White-throated Laughingthrush (Garrulax albogularis)
103. Yellow Wagtail (Motacilla flava)
104. Yellow-billed Blue Magpie (Urocissa flavirostris)
105. Yellow-breasted Greenfinch (Carduelis spinoides)
106. Yellow-browed Tit (Sylviparus modestus)

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 17

Text and photographs © 2007 -2014 - Bijoy Venugopal, All rights reserved. This document is meant for circulation within a group.
If you wish to reproduce it or parts of it in any form or manner, you are requested to seek my permission in writing. Thanks for
your understanding. For enquiries, contact: Bijoy Venugopal (bijoy.venugopal@gmail.com)

Footloose in Garhwal - April-May 2007 18