Himalayan Helicopter Rescue
Trip Start
Mar 06, 2005
1
33
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Trip End
??? ??, 2006
Loading Map
Sangla,
India
Sunday, June 26, 2005
As we retraced our steps zigzagging back down into the main Kinnaur valley from Sarahan towards Sangla we could clearly see (and hear) the turbid waters of the river Sutlej, powerfully racing along the valley floor, forcing its way past huge semi submerged boulders equivalent in size to small houses and family cars. At this point near Jeori the river is over 100 feet wide and its raw energy commanded our attention as it gouged its path through the relatively narrow space between two massive Himalayan 'Walls'. This 'squeezing' of the river is the reason for its ability to earn money and its propensity for violent flooding. This river had destroyed roads, bridges and erased entire villages killing thousands of people in August of 2001 when a flash flood had caused it to rise over 100 feet in just a couple of hours.
It is responsible for draining the entire Kinnaur valley region and the sheer volume of water moving so ferociously is a truly impressive sight. Many hydroelectric facilities along its upper reaches harness its power to generate electricity, cash, and more than a little controversy, as many local communities see these facilities as scarring the natural beauty of the region. This situation is compounded by the fact that many of the stations are privately owned and so much of the profit and associated benefits are not seen by the areas inhabitants, a major promised benefit was their supposed ability to help prevent flooding.
We passed many such facilities on our drive up towards Sangla both in operation and under construction, Naresh our guide told us many more were planned...a prospect that concerned him.
The kinnaur valley is hemmed in by mountains, rising in the south are the Garhwal Himalaya, to the east the central Tibetan massif and in the north the dramatic Zanskar range.
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We were heading east into the Sangla valley dominated by the dazzling peak of Kinnaur Kailash rising to an impressive 6,050 metres (well over 18,000 feet) and reputedly one of the most beautiful valleys in the entire Himalaya. As we drove alongside the boiling waters of the Sutlej it began to turn from a rich dirty brown to an elephant gray, a result of the changing terrain, we were beginning to enter the remoter stretches of the river (its source is in Tibet) and a mountainous area that is often cut off from the outside world for months at a time, simply by the power of the regions climate... snows in winter and floods in summer.We continued to crisscross over the river from one side of the valley to the other using a variety of bridges; some suspended by cables (straight out of an 'Indiana Jones' movie) others resembling giant Maccano sets. Maneuvering around huge natural features that dictated our path we started to climb up steeply, winding half way up the valley side.
Leaving the river far below us the road consisted of partly sealed and unmade stretches literally hacked into the valley side like a rough groove (see photos). After an hour or so of rumbling along such roads we reached the 'entrance' to the Sangla valley (also known as the Baspa valley) and here the road really did become no more than a single track, infact Naresh told us that until recently when the road had been 'improved', they used to operate a radio system so that convoys of vehicles would drive in only one direction at a time alternately (akin to traffic lights at road works).
By now Jane had asked to swap seats so that she was nearest to the mountainside, she gripped my hand tightly as we bounced along the narrow track rounding blind 90 degree corners with nothing to stop us from plunging into the void several hundred feet below except the couple of feet of 'spare' road.
After a mile or so we stopped at an overhanging section of road that housed a small hut plonked onto a rock cut platform overlooking the sheer cliff that formed the valley side, opposite was a small shrine wedged into a large crevice in the mountainside, which was festooned with garlands of flowers and personal offerings from passing travelers.
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A heavily bearded holy man dressed in nothing but a loincloth and strings of beads approached the car and gave us a blessing for a safe journey up the valley. He passed small sugary sweets through the jeep window and daubed each of our heads in turn with a Bhindi (blob of red 'paint'). Apparently he spends all year living in his remote hut just to bless people passing up and down the valley, I don't imagine he had to beat of competitors with a stick for that job!The road from here on has to be seen, to be believed, it's a real 'cliffhanger' and has the reputation for being one of the most hairaising in the entire Himalaya. We continually passed over reconstructed sections that had been destroyed by landslides and rock falls, a regular occurrence in this area. However precarious the stability of the road is, it affords you the most indescribably beautiful views (but I'll try). As the track struggles up the valley you are treated to an ever changing view of nature at its most elemental, it resembles a geography teachers wet dream...hanging valleys, truncated spurs, glacial moraine, boulder fields, alluvial floodplains...thank you, Mrs. Humble (my old geography teacher of 30 years ago), it appears I learned more than I thought!
For once the tourist-marketing blurb was true, this really MUST be "the most beautiful valley in the Himalaya".
Situated along the valley floor adjacent to the river were a series of ancient Kinnauri villages constructed using traditional techniques and materials (apart from the odd satellite dish), their slate roofs and dry stonewall enclosures clearly visible from our lofty vantage point.
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We soon became accustomed to driving along the death defying road... well OK, I did, Jane continued to wear an uneasy look for the remainder of the journey. But even Jane fared better than a Frenchman who Naresh had brought up here the previous year. On traveling only a few hundred yards into the valley he refused to ride any further and insisted on getting out and walking its entire length, because he was too frightened to ride in the jeep!
As we marveled at our surroundings the village of Sangla came into view, its the largest settlement in the valley and a mish mash of both old and new, containing basic guest houses, general stores, simple cafes, a village school and a couple of interesting temples. From here we got our first clear view of the awe inspiring Mount of Kinnaur Kailash, it is so huge that we had to bend over till our heads were almost on our laps to take in its summit, through the jeeps windows. We drove on, up the valley to our next 'home' for the night.
The 'Kinner Camp' site is a small simple affair nestled on the hillside beyond Sangla towards the highest settlement in the valley, Chitkul at 3,450 meters. It has semi permanent canvas tents ranging in size from small 2-man upto family sized. The tents are pitched on bare patches of sandy ground bordered by pine trees and surrounded by rock formations and large boulders most of which were bigger than our tent. There was a central dining area surrounded by a dry stone wall and covered by a large canvas tarp with an adjacent, sheltered, fire pit.
A stream gushes past the site down a deeply cut gully plunging over a series of waterfalls about 50 or 60 metres away, with the only road passing just above the camp bridging the gully and continuing on up the valley, to Chitkul.
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The road also served as the upper 'boundary' for the camps cricket pitch, the dirt wicket had been painstakingly cleared of boulders and it was regularly in use even when the only light came from the camps open fire!The washing facilities were basic i.e. our morning shower consisted of tipping a bucket of water from the stream over yourself. To say that the water was cold would be a massive under-statement..it was bloody freezing! So cold that it was actually painful, on contact you gasped uncontrollably, it literally took away your breath. It always took us several minutes just to pluck up the courage to wash each morning. Occasionally (if we had yelped loud enough the previous morning) they would heat up a massive cauldron of water over an open fire and offer us a bucket of hot to mix with the cold-water....BLISS! The only other concession to luxury was a 'sit down' flushing toilet, which was attached to the side of our tent; its water supply came from an old oil drum perched on a large rock.
(The water in the stream came directly from the mountain peaks and is therefore icy melt-water, hence its painfully low temperature).
There were three staff at the camp and without exception the food they prepared for us, using the simplest of equipment, was fantastic, the tastiest we ate in India! There were 6 other guests a doctor from Shimla (he had been conducting a free 'eye clinic' in some of the remoter mountain villages) and his family, including their dog, and two young guys on a weekend break from Delhi.
We woke early in the morning following our evening arrival to be met by Naresh with sketchy news from lower down the valley (provided by the local bus driver) ...
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the previous day, about an hour after we had entered the valley the only road in and several of the bridges we had crossed had been washed away by a flash flood. This included the main (and only) road and the 'permanent bridge' as well as some of the 'Indiana Jones' specials we had used.We couldn't believe it, the main bridge we crossed was a sturdy concrete and tarmac affair the likes of which we could expect to see at home spanning any major river, surely it was too substantial to have been simply 'washed away'. Naresh said he planned to go back down the valley tomorrow and check for himself the extent of the damage, so I asked if I could tag along.
We spent the remainder of the day relaxing at the campsite and taking in the stunning scenery, not least Mt Kailash, which loomed over the site appearing from behind heavy clouds that often tantalizingly cloaked its snowy cap. We could clearly see the pale blue sheer ice cliffs of a glacier lying in a hanging valley close to its summit. It was a mesmerizing sight and one that I never grew tired of staring at, often until my neck ached from peering skywards.
I had taken nearly 200 photos since we arrived in the valley, I was smitten by this beautiful place and we vowed to return. It is truly magnificent and It now officially holds the prize of being the best place we have visited so far in our travels! (Equal with Lake Bikal in Siberia).
The following morning I climbed into the jeep with Naresh and Anil to go back down the valley and inspect the damage to the bridges and road first hand.
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After 45 minutes we had reached the end of the road...Literally, where yesterday there had been a large sturdy concrete bridge there was nothing but a torrent of angry water, and the ragged edge of the tarmac road which stopped abruptly on either side of the valley. Naresh asked a few of the security guards at a nearby hydro plant, just above the road, what had happened.Apparently the water had risen over 60 feet in the space of an hour yesterday afternoon (stopping just short of their gatehouse around 4pm) it had washed away the main bridge, several minor ones and large sections of the main (only) road further down the valley. All of which, we had driven over only an hour before the flood had struck!
I walked upto the edge of the cracked tarmac road and took some photos of the scene, I peered into the water below and still found it hard to take in what had happened, everywhere was now dry, neat and tidy, except that the bridge was missing. On the drive back to the campsite I asked Naresh what this meant for us. He said he would try and discover how long it would take to repair all the damage, he assured me that usually things were patched up by the army within a 'few days'.
We spent the next couple of days of our enforced stay waiting for official news rather than listening to the continual rumors flying up and down the valley. We passed time by exploring the area around our campsite and making trips to Chitkul at the valley head. It's a small traditional village with a truly spectacular location providing awe inspiring views.
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This is the farthest you can go by road as the area beyond the village is controlled and patrolled by the Indian Army due to its proximity to the border with Tibet.We took the camp dog ; Major (a local breed of Mountain dog) for a couple of wonderful walks, exploring the gully that ran past the camp, stopping to cool our feet in the ice cold waters (for as long as we could bear the pain) and walking through the surrounding pine clad hillsides These were wonderfully tranquil places which were silent apart from the sound of water rushing along the valley floor and down the boulder choked gulleys that fed it. Birds and squirrels were the only wildlife we saw, although I admit to keeping an eye open for snakes as we had seen a couple sunning themselves on the road during our drive up to Sangla. Jane was convinced we were being stalked, following reports from the local bus driver, who came to our camp for a late night drink, he told us how he had seen a Mountain Lion leap onto the road in front of his bus on the previous nights journey up to Chitkul. (Adventurous we might be, but fearless we are not).
After three days at the camp we received official word from the police stationed lower down the valley that we were stranded and likely to be so for probably A MONTH. (It later transpired that we would be the last people to visit the valley in 2005 as the bridges and roads were so badly damaged that it would prevent any other visitors from being able to reach Sangla until after the winter snows recede next year!) We asked Naresh if there was any other way out of the valley and the simple answer was...NO.
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The higher roads were still blocked with snow, we could walk out to the nearest river crossing point but this meant a 'full on' 16 hour hike, over difficult terrain with no place to stop overnight because the only footpaths run along the very steep, and rocky valley sides. Crossing the river would entail being sat in a small basket suspended by a wire cable. We had seen these being used for sending mail and produce between villages situated on opposite banks of the Sutlej.
With all our kit to carry over such terrain it would have been nigh on impossible and Jane refused to even contemplate being passed around between villages in a homemade Bosuns' Chair over a raging river at night, (I can't think why?).
We then started to hear rumors that the Indian Air force had been instructed to fly rescue missions into the valley and take out any trapped foreign nationals and domestic holidaymakers. That evening the rumor was confirmed and word was spread that anyone stranded in the valley should report to the hydroelectric facility lower down the valley ASAP for emergency evacuation by helicopter.
First thing in the morning we made our way to the Hydro plant and on arriving we couldn't believe our eyes...pandemonium is the only word to describe the scene. Police brandishing rifles were trying to control a mob of people jostling to get onto a waiting helicopter and hold back the 70 or so crowded nearby noisily waiting their turn. As two stragglers boarded and the helicopters rotors surged in readiness for take-off a group of three ran from the larger crowd and tried to get on board, they were pounced on by the police and a 'tug o war' ensued between police and those on the helicopter trying to help their friends to climb aboard.
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This 'tug o war' turned into a scuffle at which point the pilot and crew ordered everyone off the chopper and dumped their luggage on the tarmac then promptly few off down the valley.Their base later phoned the hydro plant and refused to make any more flights until the police had control of the situation. We decided to add our names to the waiting list but not to try again for a couple of days until things had calmed down a bit. Naresh visited every morning to review the situation and returned with stories of confusion and chaos, the group who had scuffled with police the day before were Israelis. High on Hashish, they had been demanding that they should be first and as foreign nationals should get preferential treatment over Indians.
Apparently, they had threatened those waiting to fly, along with the police when they tried to stop them.
The Israelis have something of a reputation in the region for unruly behavior and an appetite for illicit drugs; they arrive here after their national service with the intention of 'making up for lost time'. Many of the locals we spoke with viewed them as 'crazy people'. All told there were probably 20 foreign nationals; the remainder of evacuees were domestic visitors. We placed our names on the waiting list and promptly left.
Two days later we returned to the hydro plant having being given strong assurances that we would be allowed onto one of the days flights. We spent most of the day chatting to others waiting to leave the valley including the doctor from our campsite who amazingly, had not been given any priority despite his waiting patients in Shimla.
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The atmosphere in the waiting room was tense Indians were upset that foreigners were being given priority, foreigners were frustrated at having to wait for days for a flight out that was changed at the last minute. The rough passenger list drawn up each day changed constantly so no one knew when or if they would be leaving. The poor Police officer in charge kept receiving phone calls from govt officials in Delhi ordering him to put different people at the top of the list, every time he appeared from the small office where the only phone was situated he would be besieged by angry passengers, shouting, pushing and begging him to get them out. The whole thing was chaotic and laughable...we took the stance that as long as we got out it didn't matter if we were last on the list.We found the attitude of many of the foreign visitors was frankly, embarrassing. We felt ashamed to be associated with them. They were downright rude and aggressive, demanding, and then threatening until (and to our amazement) it worked, they were put on the next flight, incredible! Had I been in charge they would have had to walk out! Had we not experienced it first hand we would not have believed how some people can behave in such circumstances, how selfish and aggressive they can become.
(The Israelis who had threatened fellow passengers were made to wait a couple of days, and in fact 2 left on the same flight as us!).
There was however a funny side to the predicament we found ourselves in, throughout the day local villagers would approach the police officer in charge claiming medical emergencies dictated that they must be on the next flight out of the valley.
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Some had applied makeshift slings and bandages or claimed to be suffering from mysterious abdominal pains. Some had to be helped by relatives (even carried) to the officers desk to beg to be on the next flight. Naresh with a wry smile explained to us that there was nothing wrong with any of them they just wanted a chance to fly in a helicopter...as none had ever flown before.After sitting around for 8 hours watching choppers come and go every 2 hours we were told to 'try again tomorrow'.
That night (it would be our last in the valley) we all sat around the campfire after our evening meal and gradually got drunk on illicit mountain brandy made locally, discussing every subject under the sun from arranged marriages, to eye surgery, and telling stories well into the early hours. Naresh told us that the local women were renowned for their beauty and until recent years all male visitors to the area were viewed with suspicion. Infact some of the remoter villages that he had visited whilst trekking were still very unwelcoming to male visitors incase they are 'interested' in their women. Apparently if a man from another village kidnaps a woman he fancies and 'keeps her' for 3 years they become officially married under tribal law. In the past raiding parties would visit villages to take or release kidnapped women! He also told us that last year he had visited a small village where most had never seen a car before, so he had to spend an hour giving everyone in the village a ride!
I was nursing a hangover as we made our way to the helipad.
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On the walk to the hydro plant (Naresh had to leave our jeep with a friend in the valley, until he could collect it ...sometime next year.) He jokingly pointed out that Anil was dressed in his best jeans and shirt with his sunglasses jauntily hooked into the neck of his jumper. As we walked through the village Anil would wave to his friends shouting to them that he was about to leave in a helicopter. He was obviously very excited (and a little nervous). When we reached the helipad we noticed that he would keep checking his reflection in the nearest window. It was so engaging to see just how excited he was about flying for the first time, and how he wanted everyone to know.... considering it was something that we were so blasé about.No sooner had we strolled up to the edge of the Helipad than a helicopter arrived the thrashing rotors blasting everything with a hurricane force gale. Within seconds we were being ushered on to the pad. It took us by surprise and we had to dash to collect our rucksacks, we ran under the rotors threw our bags into the open door and Jane scrambled up the steel steps into the hold, while I helped some of the other elderly passengers to get aboard with their luggage. A few minutes later we were all seated (some on top of the luggage) the rotors surged and we lifted off swinging to face down the valley, and gradually climbing. Initially we flew within the valley crowded by its towering sides until we reached the height of the adjacent mountain peaks the brown and green of the smaller hills giving way to the blue gray and brilliant white of the higher peaks of the eastern Himalayas and away in the middle distance the peaks of Tibet forming the border with China.
Jane and I managed to get seats next to the winch situated in the doorway with a window that provided a superb view.
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Naresh and Anil both with massive ear-to-ear grins were near the rear of the aircraft and they sat transfixed peering from 'their' window as the landscape flew past. Jane motioned for the guy sat opposite us to take a photo, which he managed to do just before the flight sergeant stood up, and signaled that taking photos was not allowed!An old woman who was sat next to Jane gripped her hand tightly and for most of the journey kept her eyes shut tight.
I looked over my shoulder transfixed by the fantastic view; we were now flying just below the mountain peaks surrounding us. This particular view can't have been seen by many people as commercial flights over this area are not allowed (due to its proximity to the Chinese border) so unless you're in the Indian military this birds eye view is impossible to experience, it felt as if we could just reach out and touch the passing peaks!
Earlier flights had landed at the closest helipad at the foot of the Kinnaur valley (a 15 minute flight) but when we approached, the helipad was crowded by three other choppers so we were re-routed all the way back to Shimla airport, a 40 minute flight (but a two day journey by car!) for us this was a fantastic bonus not least because we got to fly over truly fantastic scenery including Naresh's home village but it saved us a lengthy wait for our replacement jeep to arrive, within minutes we would be back at our starting point.
We swooped into Shimla airport a small hilltop affair more used to seeing light aircraft bringing visitors from other parts of India rather than military helicopters.
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We touched down directly outside the terminal building, much to the surprise of staff and a few waiting passengers. We climbed out strapped on our rucksacks and walked into the terminal as casually as possible, as if it was something we did every day of the week. The opportunity to pose was irresistible.We were met by another one of Nareshes drivers and within minutes we were off heading back into Shimla. During the journey Naresh and Anil asked us "is that what it is like to fly in a big jet when you go on holiday?" and they chatted excitedly about the views they had seen, turning to ask if we had seen this farm or that hillside. Even we had to admit it had been a fantastic experience, and certainly one not many others could claim to have had! (Even if we didn't get to see the remoter monasteries and mountain passes we had planned to visit).
Whilst we had been away Shimla had had some severe rain storms which had blocked large stretches of the main road with rubble and mud washed from the hillsides, so we had to take a much longer route to get back into town. Eventually by lunchtime we set off on a completely new trip (our original plan was now impossible due to the loss of bridges and roads throughout the region).
We had 4 days left (from our original 10) and so decided to get Naresh to drive us towards Pathenkot where we could catch a train to Amritsar to see the Sikkhs Golden temple. This drive would take 4 days if we traveled northwest through the Kangra and Chamba valleys stopping at a few interesting places along the way. These were places we had planned to visit under our own steam once we had returned from the high Himalaya, so our trip wouldn't be a complete 'washout'. (In the weeks that followed we read in the Indian press that the floods were the worst since the tradegy of 2001 and Shimla had suffered the worst rains for over 10 years, that bad weather continued and parts of India saw the worst flooding in its history!).
So our next stop would be Dharamsala and Mcleod Ganj the home of the Dali Llama followed by Jot, Chamba, and another hill station, Dalhousie. This drive (rather than multiple bus trips) would enable us to see more than we could have hoped for in the time we had available including a trip to the border with Pakistan in the NW of India, and panoramic views of the mountains that we would never forget!.
We only have ten days left in India before flying to Thailand and we are torn between not wanting to leave India and the excitement of revisiting Bangkok.
Post again soon Aubrey and Jane.
PS its always good to receive emails from 'the real world' so don't be shy, drop us a line!
