The Paradise Trek Part 7: The land of waterfalls, and fossils

I have nothing against Sonmasti as a campsite though. It lay snug in a meadow, amid hills shrouded in mist, our tents pitched close to the river, and with the Sonmasti waterfall as the backdrop. Sonmasti gave us a delightful sunset later that day; I had never seen clouds blush as pink as they had done in Sonmasti that evening—until though I saw the sunset at Tumling on the Sandakphu trek around three weeks back.

I will also remember Sonmasti for the only campsite out of 23—comprising four treks in all—where my trek-mates cooked dinner for the entire team and staff. And they did a pretty good job of it.

And I will remember Sonmasti for the fossils—the only ones I have seen so far in the wild. It was not mentioned in the organizers’ website; probably no one knew about it. But thanks to an expert companion like Arvind, I was lucky to be on spot when the discovery was made.

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The trail from Sundersar is a gentle descent initially, passing through a broad meadow, though my pet peeves—boulders—were everywhere. They could be avoided though, and I took a detour every time I saw them ahead if I could help it.

I normally try to take the easiest route—even if it means a little extra walk. Once I saw four or five trekkers—and the trek leader—following me. A little to our left ahead of us, several trekkers were hopping from boulder to boulder. I was simply avoiding the rocks.

“I am taking a detour. Why are you guys following me?” I laughed. “Because that’s the trail,” Ankit deadpanned. “Then why are they hopping over those boulders?” I asked him, surprised. “Because they are mad.” He was right anyway. Most trekkers are a little cracked I think.

The meadow led us to the top of a waterfall. We stopped there for some time, for a brief rest and photographs. Someone—probably Arvind—even managed to convince me to peep from the top of the rock which overlooked the waterfall. For someone with an acute fear of heights, it was a medal-worthy feat!

Even when everyone was enjoying the fall, I was sneaking a peek at the trail. I simply did not know which was the way down. It seemed impossible. I sat down with a sullen face and tried to delay the departure for as long as I could. I wished I could sit there forever, at the top of the waterfall.

But then, Ankit gave the marching orders. It was time for the terrible descent to Sonmasti.

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I can remember no longer what the way down was from the top of that fall. I must have gone down somehow, just as I did for the rest of that day. It was a painfully slow process for me, even as most of the trekkers flew past. Both my big toes were hurting, and so was my left knee, which I injured on my first trek, Goecha La. It has never really healed and a little bit of exertion makes it puffy.

Luckily, there was hardly anything to enjoy on the way. The trail was all rocks, dust and pebbles. There was a thick fog and all we did was go down and down a winding path somehow conjured up in that hellish terrain. I slipped on the gravels and fell twice—and as usual pulled a thigh muscle. But I just went on, slow and steady. In the mountains, there is only one mantra—if you go on, you will reach your destination sooner or later.

I can’t remember how long that descent lasted. It must have been at least an hour and a half. I was the last one to reach the spot about three-fourth down the descent where my teammates were resting. But I did not stop for a rest. I just wanted to be done with it. So I continued. Arvind walked with me.

By the time we had reached the valley below, the others were still up there, resting. The Sonmasti waterfall was to our right. It was nothing grand, but gave the landscape a character. As we continued to walk to our left, down the valley, Arvind suddenly muttered, “Is that what I think it is?”

I followed his gaze and saw a tree trunk lying by the side of our path. It looked like an ordinary tree trunk, the kind that is seen frequently in the mountains. Still muttering to himself, Arvind walked up to the trunk, and tore off a bit of the bark. After some inspection, he suddenly turned towards me and said, “How old do you think this trunk is?”

I knew that the trunk must be quite old, or he wouldn’t have asked me the question in the first place. “Umm… a thousand years maybe…?” I suggested.

“It’s at least a million years old,” he said. “It’s a fossil,” he said.

My jaw dropped. The trunk was a fossil? “But how can you be so sure?” I asked him. “First, look at this place. Can you see any big trees around from which such a huge trunk could have come?” he said. There wasn’t.

“I am not totally sure, but I suspect it very strongly,” he said. Though I admit that I did doubt him then, one of our teammates later got a similar bark tested by an expert. It was indeed a fossil. Arvind gave me the piece of bark he had torn off the trunk. It’s now a prized possession. I have given a photograph of the bark in this post.

This episode taught me one thing. Walking in the Himalayas is a privilege. But an even bigger boon is having knowledgeable people around you.

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Sonmasti campsite was a straight walk from there. Arvind and I were the first ones to reach it, the rest of the team now finally making their way down from the resting spot in ones and twos.

Ankit had arrived a few minutes before us. I showed him the bark and told him about the tree fossils. He immediately went up to Arvind and asked him to show him the trunk.

At 67, Arvind could give any of us an inferiority complex with his endless energy. He immediately left with Ankit to find the trunk. Though Arvind could not locate the exact one that we had seen, they found several other similar tree fossils all around the valley.

I felt a little exhausted—more mentally than physically actually. It was funny; I never felt exhausted after a 5–6-hour ascent, but I felt exhausted after a 1.5-hour descent! I did not even feel hungry. It was Arvind who literally coaxed me into having lunch later on.

I found a good spot for our tent, spread out a sheet of foam and lay down on it with my backpack as a pillow, as the rest gradually started arriving. There was still another day of descent to go.

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Nandita had already told Ankit that the team would do the cooking that evening and the staff should not start it as they usually do. When she looked for volunteers, only two other young women volunteered. However, later on, a couple of guys helped them with dinner. Two of the staffers were around to run errands as well.

I don’t mind cooking, but certainly not after five bathless days. I scrub myself clean head to toe after every trek, and until I do that, something like cooking, which I feel requires the highest form of hygiene, is not to be done. My nails tend to get especially dirty and unless I cut them and scrub the tips clean, I cannot imagine digging my nails into any form of food.

Anyway, I asked for permission to take photographs, which was granted. The three ladies first served tea and potato fritters—which was actually samosa gone wrong—but both tasted great. For dinner, they decided on rice, chapatis, dal, mixed veg and cake. I had never seen cake being baked in a pressure cooker; it was quite fascinating.

Nandita herself was no less a fascinating woman. She gave up a high-profile job abroad to volunteer in a charitable organization back home in India. With equal passion, she took charge of the cooking, guiding the two younger women along.

The dinner—especially the cake— tasted excellent. It came after a brief bonfire, which was extremely difficult to light with damp logs. Suvir even borrowed my deo-spray to light it up, but it hardly helped. The blaze was just about enough for us to see each other’s faces as the certificates were handed out and we gave our speeches.

But none of this is what I will most remember Sonmasti for. When the girls had just started preparing dinner, someone came into the kitchen tent and said there was a fantastic sunset to be seen. I went out with the camera at once.

The sun was hidden behind some hills, but the clouds shrouding the mountains had turned a brilliant shade of pink. Facing west, Suvir, who played the harmonica brilliantly, was busy at his music. Sweeper Shravan joined him shortly, keeping the rhythm with a small percussion ball.

Their faces flushed by the pink rays of the setting sun, the sound of the harmonica, the misty hills, the blushing clouds—that would be my most alluring memory of Sonmasti.

To be concluded…