11 things I learned from a trek to Sandakphu, the viewpoint for the Kanchenjunga aka The Sleeping Buddha
1. Sometimes baby steps are all you need to overcome your biggest tasks.
It was Day 3 of the trek – one of those long-distance days – when we were going to cover 14 kms, including a 700 ft overall ascent. The interesting part – we first descended about 900 ft over a long 7-km downhill walk from Tumling, via Lameydhura to Gairibas, via a beautiful trail in the Singalila National Park. So, in effect, the second half of the trek, via Kaykatta to Kalapokhri, was all an uphill climb of 1,600 ft.
After the first couple of kms of uphill treading, I was beginning to find it, well, an uphill task. My trek-mates were still visible somewhere in the distance ahead, but I did not seem to have an inclination or the strength to catch up with them. To make matters worse, it started raining… hard… hailstones hard! So, you are climbing up an average incline of 25 degrees, in the cold weather, wet to the bone because the rain has entered even your shoes and socks making it heavier to move, and you have hailstones pouring down on you!
In an alternative universe, I would have sat down there and waited for some kind soul to drive me to the destination. That’s not always an option in the Himalayas… sigh. So I told myself – just walk 12 more steps without stopping (I don’t know why I picked that number… maybe because of my yogic training…) I found that I could do that with relative ease, so I said, let’s try 24 steps without stopping. And I found that I could mostly do that too. I’d walk 24 steps, sometimes 36 or 48, and then take a moment to catch my breath. And, I made it through the rest of the 5 kms uphill, through the hail and wind, 24 steps at a time.
When I finally reached the tea house at Kalapokhri (Indo-Nepal border), my heart was palpitating as if unsure of whether to stop or to go on. For a few moments I could not move beyond the doorway. I had walked the bulk of the distance, a few baby steps at a time. Sometimes, just that much is all you need to go on.
2. No goal is larger than your willpower.
Day 4 of the trek was *supposed* to be the shortest of all – just 6 kms of trekking. But, obviously, there was a catch, no, there were two! One, the 6 kms were all uphill, at a higher incline than what we had seen so far, about 35-40 degrees, and, two, there were an additional couple of kms after the so-called 0 km point to our actual destination! Plus, of course, we were ascending about 1,550 ft to take us to the highest point of our trek, Sandakphu, from where the view of The Sleeping Buddha was promised.
I started the day feeling upbeat despite the fact that I hadn’t slept soundly the previous three nights because of the cold. Also, how far could 6, or even 8 kms, really be?! Alas, half a kilometre into the trek and I was beginning to lose steam. One of my trek-mates fell behind with me to egg me on. She could see I needed the motivation.
This last stretch was all along the motorable, albeit broken, road that goes up to Sandakphu, so there were several 4X4s that passed us by. With each passing vehicle, I felt my resolve not to ask for a lift diminish little by little. At one point, about halfway through, even our trek guide suggested I take a lift.
But, how exciting is a destination if you haven’t had to undertake the journey to get there? I wondered if I’d enjoy the view as much if I didn’t get there on my own two feet. I squeezed every ounce of willpower within me to carry on, 24 baby steps at a time.
We were supposed to have reached the top by lunchtime, around 1 pm. I got there just a little after 2 pm, my trek-mate by my side. But the sense of achievement was palpable. I had summited my mountain!
3. Hospitality is a factor of the space in your heart, not of the space in your house.
Living in the hills is all about optimising energy, in every way possible. No resource is to be wasted. Luxury is not a thing in the hills. One of the most visible ways this manifests is in the size of the dwellings of the mountain people. With each location that we put up at, the tea-houses got smaller, the rooms cosier.
This might sound Newtonian, but as the size of the rooms got tinier, the hospitality got warmer! At all our rest stops on Day 1 and 2 – Kopidara, Chitrey, Meghma, Tumling – there was a quiet cordiality to interactions with our hosts. By the time we were at Sandakphu and Shepi, Days 5 and 6, the quality of the conversation was decidedly welcoming and warm.
4. Simplicity is beautiful.
The best things in life are really quite simple. Even though it was May, temperatures in the middle eastern Himalayas, along West Bengal and Sikkim, range between 5 degrees C to 18 degrees C, give or take a few depending on rain and wind. Hot water, especially for a bath, is a luxury, finger-numbing freezing water being the norm. In such conditions, being served steaming hot homemade food for each meal was like having Annapurna herself descending to feed us.
At the tea-house rest stops, we had practically the same lunch and dinner (sometimes breakfast too) on five consecutive days – wheat flatbread (rotis), local rice, potato curry, and yellow lentils (daal), served with paapad and chilli pickle. Sometimes, we’d have a boiled egg too. But we relished every morsel! Guess the warmth and caring with which it was served had a lot to do with it. Our trek guides would almost physically manoeuvre us away from our photographing and selfie-taking narcissistic selves to get us to eat the food while it was still hot.
5. The key to good health is consistency, period.
Talking about being served the same food, I learnt that our trek guides, locals from the region, had even simpler fare on a daily basis. But the ingredients usually came from their own or a neighbour’s vegetable patch, the staples were indigenous, and all the fresh produce, including the wine (rhododendron/ rice/ berries), was organic.
These people are fit, to say the least, and hardworking. They wake up with the sun, around 4 am (eastern sunrises have a charm of their own!) and go to bed shortly after sundown. They do this every day, changing course only as per the season. Is it any wonder that they don’t seem to age or slow down?!
6. Practice, indeed, makes perfect.
Day 4, which I mentioned above, was undoubtedly the toughest of all. Our trek guides had budgeted 3.5 hours for us to get through the 8 km – 1,550 ft climb. We overshot that. But guess how long each of them usually takes to undertake that stretch… a mere 45 mins, that too without a trekking pole! The 10,000-hour rule applies here like nowhere else! The more you do something, the better you get at it. What seemed incredibly hard for us is the way of life for these folks. The ease with which they traverse the mountains is a result of practice, which began when they were but little children.
7. Common experiences, especially the tough ones, make for strong human connections.
I’ve been on a Himalayan trek once before, six years ago, with a 10-member group, all of whom were strangers to me, but many of whom have become great friends of mine. This trek was no different, probably more intense because it was tougher and because we were a small group of just three, all women. The fact that each of us came from different backgrounds, belonged in different age-groups, and had different motivations for coming on the trek did not matter. Our shared experience of the trek, over just a 6-day period, has bonded us in a way that few routine interactions, even over a prolonged duration, could have done.
I saw this even more starkly among the locals. Everybody seemed to know each other. Everybody was considerate of the other’s needs. Everybody made time for another. Everybody stopped to say hello to the other no matter how pressing their own schedule. This was human connection for real, sans mobiles and the Internet.
In fact, none of us had mobile connectivity while on the entire trek. And we felt so much the better for it!
8. Borders can separate man from man, but not humans from humanity.
The trek route was interesting not only because it crisscrossed two states – West Bengal and Sikkim – but also because it switch-bordered two countries – India and Nepal! In fact, on three nights out of five, we slept in Nepal. But the interactions with the locals had a consistent quality throughout, one of healthy curiosity, warmth, and concern for our safety and comfort. We were not the high-paying tourists that would alleviate their financial need, so it was definitely a higher human motive that drove them to engage with us so transparently.
In the Himalayan reaches of West Bengal, most of the population is Nepali (gorkhas, sherpas, gurungs, tamangs, chhetris, etc.) and Tibetan. Despite being proud of their heritage and continuing to have family ties in their home countries, they have an endearing respect for their adopted country. In fact, the homestay that I put up in at Darjeeling after the trek was run by an enthusiastic Tibetan couple. They all continue to take the meaning of hospitality to a higher level.
9. Being in nature provides the best rejuvenation one could ask for.
My singular goal for this *trek-cation* was to be mindful. I wanted to be present in every moment of the experience. And, boy, did it serve the purpose!
Some things cannot have you be any other way – like on Day 5, climbing downhill from Sandakphu to Sirikhola, via Gurdum, along the forest trail in Singalila, braving the slopes made more slippery by the continual rain. Each step had to be planned uniquely for the right balance between angle of foot placement, depth of descent, frontloading or backloading based on where you can stake your trekking pole, the distance between you and the person in front of you, and what the next stepping ledge/ stone might be. You just had to focus on the task at hand.
But even otherwise, the mountains have a way of calling out to you. Come, see my many colours, soak in the clouds, gaze at the little things on the grounds far below. Come, let me take you higher!
At the end of each long day, we seemed to be reviving each of our senses, looking forward to the next day with more gumption.
10. Fun is a state of mind, not a factor of the money in one’s pocket or the access to fancy resources.
Even though we were a small party of three, without access to Wifi or even cell towers, the trek brought out each of our unique personalities, allowing us to get to know each other without reservation or judgment. We truly enjoyed each other’s company and had fun enjoying the simple things in life.
Of course, being on the same trek was the outcome of self-selection, so clearly, there must be a common thread that brought us to share the same time and space. But being limited in resources did not in any way diminish our ability to enjoy ourselves. And, we picked up several tips in this department from our trek guides too.
11. Nothing awakens the spirit like nature’s powerful forces.
Day 5 was what we all had been waiting for – the tryst with the Buddha, if He cared to show Himself from amidst the rain and cloud cover. We awoke at 4.30 am, much like the locals, and found, to our chagrin, rain pouring down in torrents. Pulled on the blankets and went back to sleep. But the Buddha would not let us go empty-handed.
At 7 am, just as we were readying to have breakfast, the drizzle stopped, and the clouds parted just enough to offer us a magnificent view – the entire Kanchenjunga range – The Sleeping Buddha!
I soon found my eyes brimming over. I don’t know exactly what it was but that sight etched a lasting memory in my mind. I was overcome with emotion – at the humility of my small existence, at the bountifulness of Nature, at the gratitude I felt for being able to witness this glorious sight.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get atop the mighty Kanchenjunga, but I do know that the Buddha stirred something inside me that day.
