#goecha la

The events in this video took place 10 years ago in the shadow of Mt. Kanchenjunga at Goecha La. This video is a sequel of this one.

It isn’t hard to experience a white desert of snow during winters in India. And I am not talking about the overcrowded stereotype of Shimla and Manali. The mountain ranges of the Himalayas have amazing snow falls to experience on foot. The lack of any civilization makes it more attractive, untouched and pristine. This time our taste revolves around the season of while walkers. So, read on….

Sandakphu Trek — Housing The Views Of The Tallest Peaks

Goechala Trek — Where Kangchenjunga Begins

Chadar Trek — The Frozen Dreams Of Ladakh

Chopta Tungnath Chandrashila Trek — Single Trek?

Jim Corbett National Park — The Jewel Of Uttarakhand

As Buddha disappeared out of sight, we sat in the cold pensively, with our eyes set on the faraway ledge on which he was supposed to reappear. Padam and I had declined to accompany him on his onward journey to Goecha La 3. The Goecha La pass is the gateway to the Kanchenjunga range and one has to cross its 3 bases before one attempts to scale the mighty Kanchenjunga peak. As we sat freezing on the snow, the chilly wind that had subsided picked up again with renewed intensity. Amid the booming and crackling of snow which melted in chunks and fell off ridges into the Goecha La lake, we sat like statues awaiting our hero's magical touch to bring us back to life. 

We had been walking for 6 days to get to Goecha La and had at least 3 more days of walking ahead of us. Earlier in the day Buddha had taken a fall in the icy waters of a pond on our ascent early in the morning, slipping on the sleety logs that served as a bridge over the water body. We immediately halted in our tracks in the dark. In the faint moonlight we could see him shivering as he clambered out of the water onto high ground soaking wet. We continued our walk in solemn silence for some time thereafter letting Buddha calm himself. Perhaps we had made a mistake in setting out at 3 am from Lamunay. But our desire to watch the sunrise at Goecha La couldn't have materialized otherwise.

Padam played some music on his phone as we took turns on the binoculars hoping for Buddha's reappearance. He came into view just as we were getting fidgety giving in to our apprehensions. Walking on the treacherous snow hadn't been easy. Occasionally the snow beneath our feet would give away and we would slip in between rocks into the ground. We had been lucky to have survived without sprains. Much like the water puddles on the roads in monsoons that hide potholes to affright motorists, snow covers up gaps between rocks leading climbers to mistake it for solid ground. We had put one foot above the other hoping for the snow to hold firm and reached thus far. There was no way we were going to stretch our luck by climbing till Goecha La 3. Buddha was made of different material.

As he performed his rituals on Goecha La 3, Padam brought out fruits and incense sticks offering them to the mountains. Mountains are considered sacred in these parts and even mountaineers supposedly don't climb all the way to the summit of Kanchenjunga as a mark of reverence. After Buddha came back, we shared the remaining fruits between us and started on our way back to Lamunay where the rest of the gang was waiting. We passed Samiti lake which now looked resplendent bathed in the morning light. The lone horse grazing by it took no notice of us. However, we managed to catch a herd of wild deer unawares who took off as soon as they sensed our presence. Their gallivanting gave way to panicky rush up the mountains.

We rested a bit on the sands of the tiny cold desert that we had passed on our onward journey. The landscape seemed unbelievably surreal tucked in the lap of high mountains. If we didn't have pics, it'd be hard to convince people that such a desert lay in the area. Munching on our Snickers bars, we resumed our walk to the camp. The others had already packed up hurried by the dark gathering clouds. We ate in a rush, and as the first raindrops fell, made our way back to civilization saying goodbye to the river on the banks of which we had played and slept. The yaks, mournful as ever, stared at us, much the same way they had greeted us on our arrival. Cloaked in our ponchos, we walked across the grasslands to Thangshing and beyond, wishing for the place we were leaving behind to be always as splendiferous as it was.