Adventure Camp at Manali

Who does not get overwhelmed by a trip to the hills? So do I? It was 13 June 2008. Harish, an employee of my dad's office and I stood in front of a gleaming white bus of Himachal Tourism, ready to take us to Manali. We were supposed to attend a 14 day long adventure course at Western Himalayan Mountaineering Institute. The course would encompass rock-climbing, rappelling, river-crossing, a bit of mountaineering and ,needless to say, trekking. Both Harish and I were amused as the bus left the bus stand 25 minutes behind schedule at 7:25 pm. We munched the chips and sipped the coke that we had bought at the bus stand as the bus made its way out of Delhi. As usual, the city roads looked more of a parking lot than anything else. When we were out of Delhi, the traffic lessened, road straightened and bus sky-rocketed. The air-conditioner inside the bus literally produced an artificial winter, so much so, that I had to clothe myself in a warm bandi. Even Harish covered himself with a black jacket. Most of the other passengers too did the same. On Harish’s request, the temperature of the air conditioner was increased. The journey till Karnal, where we broke for dinner was uneventful. Harish and I merely chatted and joked. Harish is only 4 years elder to me and, therefore, falls in my age group. After a frugal meal, we re-embarked to Manali. The inner lights were switched off signaling that we may doze off. Who can sleep in a sitting posture? I pushed back the backrest but sleep only came in bits and pieces. I had passed, as also Harish and most of the passengers, virtually, without a blink of sleep. The road journey that had fascinated me till it began, by the next morning, was turning out to be a nightmare. To add to the miseries, the air conditioner malfunctioned. The repair process delayed the bus further. However, we reached Manali safely though thoroughly tired. We took an auto to Western Himalayan Mountaineering Institute for which we shelled Rs. 50. Prior to getting into one of them, a crowd of auto drivers had surrounded us with offers of both opulent and economical hotels.
We met Mrs. Radha Devi, one of the instructors at WHMI and an Everester. She got us a dormitory. The dormitory was not in proper shape. After bathing ourselves we had a frugal but satisfying lunch.
“Shall we visit the market or any near-by tourist attraction?” Harish suggested.
At first I had reluctant thoughts in my mind.
“All right! Market looks interesting.” I said and approved of his idea.
I have lived in the hills for a number of years, namely Sikkim and that authenticates my stand about hilly people. In addition to this, I have also visited the hilly states of Uttarakhand, Kashmir, Meghalaya and West Bengal (Darjeeling District). The people of the hills are like gems in a crown. They are indeed very friendly and helpful.
Harish and I were talking about how to go to the market when a Taxi Qualis stopped near us. The driver lowered the windows and said, “Tourists here. Where do you have to go?”
My first impression was that he was in search of a passenger. However, I was proved wrong. Harish answered in the affirmative.
The driver replied, “I too have to go there as one of my tyres is giving a problem. Come, I will give you a free ride.”
I was moved by his generosity. We got down at the market not before thanking him. The market neither impressed me nor displeased me in terms of appearance. The main road flanked by shops on either side had been permanently freed of traffic. That ensured we as also other tourists and local dwellers could shop in peace. This is a feature common to many of our hill stations, whether it is Shimla, Darjeeling or Gangtok. Like all hill stations, most of the Manali shops dealt in woolens like Kullu and illustrious Pashmina shawls, Himachali caps and the like. Harish is a damn foodie. This was evident when he ate his second sumptuous lunch (Mutton, Butter Nans and salads) of the day. I only settled for a cup of tea. To be honest the trip to the market was futile. Anyway, when one visits a hill station, one rarely omits the market. We returned to WHMI by an auto. Harish after returning pleaded for something rather unusual and unexpected vehemently.

“I am getting bored here. It’s only the first day and it’s another hell of a fortnight to go. I can’t wait to go back to Delhi.”
I was literally speechless for a few minutes. Prior to this statement he had all the praises for Manali. The weather had impressed him the most. What he detested was the remoteness of the place and the loneliness that had engulfed him. I tried to keep him in good humor.
“It’s the first day and we really don’t have anything to do besides count the days to return to Delhi. The course starts tomorrow and all will be well. The loneliness which you feel now will be over when 29 students of Punjab Public School (PPS) join us for the course shortly.”
I cannot claim that my counseling worked miracles but did improve his mood. Our other course mates joined us by evening. When I met them, I found them a bit odd, to say the least. After the usual exchange of customary ‘hellos’, a bell (a spoon banging a plate) rang, which I guessed was the signal for dinner. I had somehow lost my appetite for food. So, it was a light dinner. However, on the contrary, Harish was having his third meal of the evening. I could not prevent myself from indulging into the obvious question: “How do you digest so much?”
I could not understand what he said as his mouth was overstuffed with food. That night, I did not get proper sleep. Nevertheless, it was better than the previous night in the bus. I got up the next morning as early as 5:00 a.m. ( I may have only done that 5 times in my whole life). We were told to assemble at a point (I forget to recall the place) in the Institute premises. Our first instructor, Giriraj laid out the rules in a rather Beware-of-me voice. He voiced his concern and role as under:
“In this Institute we are as strict as the army. Time is of the utmost importance both in this Institute and mountaineering. When in a class, such as this one, silence is to be maintained. I will be all through the course with you. I am not only your instructor but your ultimate mentor for the next 14 days. There are 3 grades, A, B and C which I along with 2 other instructors will bestow you with as per your behavior, stamina and performance in the course. (I guess most of the course mates including me gave a Who-cares-for-one look to him). Mistakes are punished with utmost seriousness…..I hope you will follow what has been told to you today. Thank You.”
After the lecture I and Harish signed up officially for the course as the fees was deposited with the cashier. We were hurried into a Lecture Hall for a welcome lecture by Mr. Gulia, the Deputy Director of the Institute and an able mountaineer. The lecture was thought provoking with the usual ‘Youth-shoulder-the-future-responsibilities’ punches. The lecture was followed by a class on mountaineering knots. In the next hour or so, Giriraj sir taught us 5 to 6 essential knots of mountaineering. A word about these knots. In mountaineering, there are three kinds of knots, namely, climbing knot, joining knot and anchoring knot. The thumb knot (a climbing knot) was the easiet to tie. One just needed to tie the most simple knot that man can ever invent. The others were complicated. When the class ended I knew only the thumb and the rif knots. I had simply not understood the remaining four.