Human beings love to challenge themselves or life becomes a bore. Science says that optimal anxiety helps keep life exciting. However, consciously moving out of one’s comfort zone – be it physical or psychological – is not easy. If undertaking strenuous physical activities was as effortless and euphoric as hogging on donuts, everybody on this planet would be super-fit and be able to excel in various sports. We need to give serious credits to all the sportsmen out there, for I have just begun to prepare myself for the next travel expedition, and believe me, it isn’t easy at all. With several gym memberships long gone in vain, I began cycling to and from work every day – 16 kilometres a day. I was gonna give up after day 1 itself, when I realised that Old Airport Road (in Bangalore) has this monstrous ascending stretch, where I got off the bike and walked it.
But somehow, I did not give up. I decided to endure and push myself beyond my own limits. In the next couple of days, I tried different cycling routes to avoid the slightly uphill stretch that to me felt like climbing the Everest. I started relying less on Uber or Ola Cabs and more on my own two feet to take me around places. I began climbing five sets of stairs at work. I ditched my scooter and started taking the bus and metro to far-off places, while riding the bicycle everywhere else. I was slowly getting used to this change in my lifestyle and two weeks later, I am now able to easily conquer the ascending stretch, and it has become the quickest route to reach office. I am on the right track and I think I will be prepared enough for the longest journey I’ve ever undertaken. Pumped!
That was nearly nine months ago. I was then planning a backpacking trip across the Northeast Indian states. Twenty four days in the mountains, a myriad of memorable experiences and several invaluable lessons later, I was back in Bangalore – albeit completely worn out – to my old life that suddenly became difficult to live. No sooner did I return from the trip than I missed the mountains. I wanted to go back to the Himalayas and I immediately signed up for Chadar Trek during winter. I then had four months to prepare for the next adventure, and this one was going to be even more arduous.
Flash-forward to January 25, 2017 1700 hrs:
‘Oh bloody hell, what was I thinking? I am not prepared for this, not prepared at all!’ were the thoughts running in my head, while I was traversing the mountain ranges of Zanskar in the blizzard that started four hours ago. We were supposed to arrive a kilometre close to the base camp in a vehicle before lunchtime, but a landslide had blocked the road about fifteen kilometres ahead (I came to know the distance later). As we unloaded and started crossing the landslide area on foot, the blizzard began.
Soon after, I regretted wishing for snow when I had landed at the airport in Leh the day before and had been disappointed at the sight of the barren landscape. Snowfall wasn’t expected as precipitation is generally low in Ladakh, hence aptly called a high-altitude desert. I would later learn that Chadar Trek was closed from the next day onwards due to heavy snowfall, forecast to last a few days, and that it was the heaviest snowfall recorded in a decade in Jammu & Kashmir. Of course, we did not have phone reception and had no way of knowing about it. Rather lucky, I’d say, that we were there on that day. Had it been a day later, I’d have missed the adventure of a lifetime.
There was no one in my line of sight both in front of and behind me. I had started walking with my group, but as I was sluggish and too tired to keep a conversation going, they gradually left me behind. Occasionally, porters and trekkers belonging to other groups while crossing me said a few words of encouragement.
‘How much further?’ I had asked one of the porters while chatting with him.
‘Almost there. We’ll reach in the next half-hour.’ It was the fourth time I had heard that in the last couple of hours.
Nobody walked alongside me for more than ten minutes, because of my rather slow pace. At 5.30 PM, it was almost completely dark; darker with the sunglasses that I still kept on as it prevented the snowflakes from hitting my eyes. As I crossed a bend in the road, I was glad to find my friends sitting under a rock that provided some shelter from the snowstorm. One of them threw a candy bar to me as I approached. I was famished as we didn’t have lunch. I dropped my rucksack on the ground and sat down, listening to a guy complain that his waterproof jacket wasn’t waterproof after all. I felt sorry for him, more than I did for myself. The last thing I’d have wanted was trekking in subzero temperatures wearing wet clothes.
‘How long have you guys been here?’ I asked another friend.
‘About ten minutes, waiting for you.’
‘Do you know how much longer to the base camp?’
‘Another half-hour.’
(To be continued…)
UPDATE: Part II is up here
Narratives by a narcissistic Cynic 
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