The honking of vehicles at Dehradun and the typical hill station traffic at Mussoorie had left us with frazzled nerves when we checked in at Mori camp on the bank of the river Tons. A hot cup of tea and clear Himalayan air soothed our nerves: we were greeted by the usual waterside suspects, a Plumbeous water redstart and a Blue whistling-thrush. A Crested kingfisher and several Red-billed blue magpies promised even better in the five days of trekking to follow.
The wife, daughter and I were on a five-day trek to the remote Obra river valley of the Garhwal Himalayas, and hoped to fit in some birding en route. We started with the obligatory stop at the ancient temple in Mori, with Himalayan vultures lazily circling overhead. Then followed a stop at a stream to inspect a water mill: a Spotted forktail and a Paradise flycatcher with its long white streamers were bonuses.
The British left behind many impressive things when they left India but the widespread practice of pine forestry in the lower and middle Himalayas was not one of them. Much like eucalyptus in South India, this rapidly growing alien absorbs much water and creates an acidic soil which allows few native slower-growing species like oak to grow. The resultant monoculture may look pretty but actually is detrimental to wildlife and birdlife, of which there was little evidence wherever pine stands were.
Our afternoon was filled by the high of white water rafting on the Tons at the well equipped outfitters at Mori. The Tons has excellent stretches of white water with levels of difficulty to suit both the beginner and the experienced. It was not easy to identify the Lesser fish eagle overhead when you’re paddling and in dire danger of capsizing. The day ended with a prep talk around a bonfire, of the dos and don’ts of Himalayan trekking by our group leader Gaurav Punj, this being the first trek for many in our 14-member group.
Waking up in the Himalayas needs no alarm clock: the profusion of bird calls and early sunriseensures you can’t really sleep in. A two-hour drive took us to the Supin river: from there on blue sky, white Himalayan rapids and pristine forest were our constant companions as we commenced our trek and forked off upstream along the Obra. Himalayan griffons, about 15 of them, circled overhead and landed on top of a nearby cliff. A Brown dipper rode the swift current in search of its meal, while the White-capped water redstart anxiously checked us out. We camped after a five-km trek at 8,800 feet: hot chai and samosas never tasted better.
The 10-km, 3,000 foot climb the next day over rock and streams to the Bewa campsite over about 11 hours was tough. The dense vegetation gave way to juniper and rhododendron, and then glaciers on the mountainsides with just scrub above the treeline. A hailstorm left us battered and the slopes treacherous with just the guide’s hand — Ramesh and Surendar did a splendid job of it —to help us ford the landslides, streams and even a glacier. Like a wanderer in a desert who sights an oasis, the sight of our pitched tents at the end seemed truly a blessing. The altitude, rough terrain and slippery path had left us with more than just cramping calves and groaning glutes: a couple of us had dehydration and a few were in tears, given the sheer physical and mental stress.
But the view we awoke to the next morning at the Bewa campsite was amazing. Surrounded by glacier-laden mountains on two sides, the North towered over by the unclimbed snow-clad Mount Ranglana, this amphitheatre-like plateau is near the origin of the Obra river. Northern ravens patrolled the tree-less mountainsides. Rhododendrons bloomed on the plateau. Green grass all over. In the early morning light it was surreal...
While some stayed back to rest for a day, the others we set off to the mythical Devkyara or Garden of the gods. A stiff climb of another 2,000 feet left us gasping and in dire danger of a heart attack, but it was worth it. Just imagine: a grass plateau surrounded by snow clad peaks on three sides. A stream meanders through it and a marsh forms. Bright sunshine and blue sky above. Carpets of wild flowers all around. No wind, just the gentle lull of slowly flowing water. Surely devised by the gods for their own use. We rested, hypnotised, for half an hour before commencing the steep descent that left us with quivering quads when we stumbled back to camp. With the rain tumbling down later in the day, a typical pattern in the Himalayas, the rest of the day was spent resting for the marathon return ahead.
When you have screaming muscles and you’re breathing about a 100 times a minute climbing up, it's rather tough to put your mind to birding but I recorded 30-odd species on the trek.
Make it back we did, thanks to some improved weather, with strained muscles and slimmer bodies.
The Obra Valley trek was more than an amazing audience with pristine Himalayan scenery. It was a chance to wander through the garden of the gods.
