At Valley of Flowers Gate
It was a cold and cloudy morning in Ghangaria. Packing some nuts and raisins in day packs, we had a quick breakfast at a tiny restaurant and in reduced visibility through the mist, we all set out to the Valley of Flowers. It began to drizzle lightly and the entire path ahead was looking beautiful.
Soon we came across a scenic bridge across the stream..This route was much easier when compared to the hemkund route. The rocky mountains looked really beautiful and majestic. Because it was September we did not have to walk on any glacier, but passed though one glacier on the way. After walking for about 3 to4 km we entered the actual valley. The flowers had greatly reduced but the entire setting was extremely scenic. The beautiful green/yellow/red colored valley, surrounded by mountains with trees at the lower levels, brown and grey soil in the middle and then the white snow at the top.
There was no sun and it was hard to describe the way in which light played with the appearance of meadows and flowers alike. It was incredibly beautiful. The hills along the river were dotted with flowers that appear quite pink, almost as if they have gone amok. The dew was hanging on to their edges, as if glued for decoration. They look towards me the way interrogators would, glancing with intensity.
In the deep ravine, the roar of the River Pushpavathi can be heard. I glanced back and stopped to espy the beautiful mountain town of Ghangaria from a height. I knew there is no chance for exhaustion on this beautiful route.
Continuing the climb, I got closer to the River Pushpavati flowing. A short descent and I crossed a bridge over the gushing waters. Then the steep ascent began. Before long, I chanced upon a remnant of a fascinating Himalayan glacier. It reminds me of a decorated cake with its icing.
It was like Waking Up to rolling green hills and billowy white clouds, flowers swaying in the fields all this seen as though in a dream. I was speechless. In the midst of such beauty, in a moment, so many moments came alive. It was a rapture of a rhapsody.Under the overhang of a large rock, we huddled to listen to our guide relate the story of Mary Legge who discovered the valley and eventually became a part of it. She slipped and died in the valley in 1939. Someone suggested that we should go and pay our respects at her memorial.
As the guide with utmost reverence recited the words inscribed on her grave: "I will lift mine eyes unto the Hills from whence cometh my help.” There was no need to go to her memorial; she was there, everywhere. It was a lungful of life and at 13,000 feet; it felt like heaven. With Atul prancing by my side, the thought of finding pretty damsels in heaven were pushed aside. He and Amol made sure that they hung over, around and under every species of flower to get themselves photographed.
It drizzled again and then followed the sun peeping through the clouds unexpectedly. Through the rest of the day the pattern continued: following sunlight, intermittent drizzle, mist, and more precipitation. The misty mountains through the sun rays gave me glimpses of the enchanting beauty around. The continuous change in the intensity of light at that height was enthralling.
At every turning, there was a new surprise. The sight of the snow clad peaks particularly made my heart leap with joy. The cascading waterfalls was a sight to behold. At certain places, the path was narrow, and slippery. I saw a few locals working at a spot where there has been a recent landslide because of rains. Nodding heads in acknowledgment, exchanging smiles and accepting a few word of advice from them to be cautious and to ensure an early return, I proceeded further.
I continued trudging the final ascent to reach the entrance to the Valley. A variety of flowers, dominated by pink and purple Balsam fill to the brim on either side of the narrow trek path. I reached the entrance and looked up, and stopped abruptly, speechless at the breathtaking sight! I heared my fellow trekker gasp and whisper, “It’s heavenly!”
Picturesque mountain landscape of rich vegetation with the ephemeral clouds wrapping the mountain tops was an amazing sight. The mountains were of different shades of green, some bare and the peaks of ones at a distance, snow-clad. Within the Valley itself there were different smaller valleys. Streams of water flew right down into the River below. There were areas of treeless green meadows which were as charming as the wooded areas.
Hundreds of species of wild flowers were everywhere and these fields in the misty mountains had a mesmerizing effect on me. No matter how carefully I walked along the narrow path, a few sadly get crushed under my feet. Wild buttercups, Himalayan Knotweeds, Gentians, Rhodiolas, wild daisies, and from what I recognized, varieties of Campanula, lilies (also cobra lilies), milk parsleys, primulas, potentillas and balsam are found aplenty. I recalled reading the Blue Himalayan Poppy and Brahm Kamal are rare species found only at these great heights.
I felt sheer joy amidst the variety of flowers in the enchanting Valley. Time flies in the resplendent fields of wildflowers. I watched the snow clad Rataban peak and the gleaming Nilgiri Parbat posing majestically in the distance.I got an urge to lie down on a small patch of grass. Initially I stretched, face upwards, and watched the sky scattered with indolent clouds. Cool breeze blows. When the sunlight gets into my eyes, I turned my face sideways and see a field of flowers: Primula, Potentillas, Geraniums, Campions, Bellflowers, Rhubarbs, Whorlflowers, Balsam, and a variety of other flowers, some quivering and others gracefully swaying in the cool breeze.
The picture of the Valley with its scenery of the mist on the trail, the sea of flowers, melting glaciers, streams with gushing waters, green meadows, snow-clad mountains and their peaks looming against the horizon is aesthetically stimulating. It permanently etched a deep impression on my mind. The beauty and serenity of the place captured me in a spell. I was completely connected with the surroundings. I feel then every bit of effort that I took to get to the top is well worth the endeavor and the weary feet.
It was now time to get back, and I remembered Ruskin Bond’s words:
…the infinity of mountains, the feeling of
space – limitless space – can only be
experienced by living in the mountains
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