The Trek - Aborted

Both soles of my pair of trekking shoes started leaving behind a trail of powdery leather as I left home. The size of the powdery mass only got bigger as I waited for the bus on Richmond Road. I quickly stowed away the shoes in my backpack - planning to save them in their best shape for the trek. And comforted myself, saying shoes that had survived in Markha....would definitely last in Kudremukha.... 

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I'd probably never had breakfast at 5:30 AM in my entire life. The  homestay was already a bustle of activity. A 22km trek in one day meant we needed to start early - reach the peak around noon and turn back soon enough, to come back down in time. I'd made acquaintance with Abhishek on our journey from Bengaluru. Having curd rice on the highway and sitting next to each other on the overnight bus journey qualified us to be mates for the day.  

                                              

We managed to dump the breakfast into our stomachs and wash it down with hot coffee - the need of the hour. Trek leads Prajwal and Navya grouped us together. We were then asked to hop on to jeeps that drove us to the base of the trek about 5km away. If some of us were sleepy, the jeep ride woke us up completely. Muddy, eroded narrow roads and slush from the monsoon made the ride adventurous bordering on dangerous.

The interminable ride ended in about twenty long minutes. There was some excited chatter as we waited for the leads to give us marching orders to start the trek. The black leather crumbs my shoes were leaving behind were starting to get the attention of people immediately around me. May be the thick soles with ridges for would fall off, leaving behind normal shoes that would work for the rest of the trek. I had too much faith in those shoes that had accompanied me on several hikes and treks - even this particular one five years earlier.

The trek started. The monsoon was in its post peak phase, but it was raining as we began the ascent. Not the pleasant drizzle -  nor a downpour. But just enough to make the ascent slippery and tricky and warrant that we stow our phones in our backpack and get our raincoats out. Abhishek and I found ourselves long enough wooden sticks that would serve for makeshift trekking poles for the day.

With each passing step, I was becoming more and more aware of the reality that my shoes wouldn't last the entire trek. I stopped looking at them, but the local guide Ratnakara, would point out as whole pieces of the sole started to come off.  From an open trail, we entered a swamp and the rain suddenly got thicker. As more of my shoes started giving way, I started walking lopsided - something that would have looked funny in normal circumstances, but made me extremely nervous that day. We had to wade through multiple ankle-deep water bodies and I could feel the water gushing in through the debilitated shoes and wash my ankles. 

I started slipping. Never a great sign on a trek. My shoes were now completely bald with no ridges and leather on the soles. Each time I slipped, I laughed nervously to make light of the situation. But those around me started realizing it wasn't that simple anymore.

I managed to complete a small ensuing ascent that opened to a stretch of flat grasslands. The trek leads had planned "seed bombing" here, which is basically throwing seed balls across the open area and hoping that the seeds would start germinating, willed by the forces of nature. I used the break to finally gather courage and take a good look at my shoes.

I finally acknowledged that my shoes and I had to part ways. I could see my socks peering through the mouth of the shoes. The bottom of the shoes had given way completely and I could feel my socks touching the moist ground underneath. There was no way I could continue wearing them and trek. In a sudden act of separation, I removed them and placed them against a rock. I took a couple of pictures and looked at them with emotion. (A fellow trekker told me later on that he watched me praying with folded hands as I looked at them. I might've. They were rather close to my heart.)

And now, the next question loomed large. Would I continue the trek? If yes, how would I continue? If no, how would I go back? We were about 3km from the base. An arduous 8km lay ahead of us. I didn't have shoes. How would I trek either way? 

In a moment steeped in coincidence that I'd prefer to call destiny, Abhishek mentioned he was carrying his slippers - just in case. And was glad to offer them to me. It was renewed hope. I was in two minds at the time, my desire to continue higher than the common sense to abort. The trek leads and local guides noticed it too. They suggested that I carry on and see how far I could make it.

The balloon of hope that I'd inflated minutes ago received its first puncture as I stepped into the first stretch of black slush with the slippers. The slush was fresh and the rain continued to make the situation worse. I slipped at every step. Some of them were comical. Some slips were dangerous. Every now and then one of the slippers would get stuck in the slush and as I pulled my legs out, the slipper would remain the slush. 

Inevitably, I got stuck in the rear. The separation between the main group and me was growing. Abhishek was nowhere to be seen.. As I completed another rainy ascent, holding out my hand to anyone who could help me take that next step upward, whatever little ego that I had -saying I have to complete the trek at all costs - vanished. I realised I couldn't do it. My upward trek had to come to an end soon. Else, I'd probably jeopardize the efforts of others or even end up hurting myself resulting in other outcomes that I didn't even want to think about. The ascent led to a stretch of grasslands which was also considered the midpoint of the trek in some ways. A lone tree stood out amongst  the grasslands and trekkers called the spot the "Onti Mara" (lone tree). I conferred with the leads and decided to stay there - while the rest of the group trekked to the peak. I'd join the first ones to come back. Though the leads expressed their sympathies, they were probably relieved that I decided to stay back.

The first minutes alone at the lone tree were not as bad as I’d thought. The views from this spot are amazing. Hills covered in greenery with different shades of green are a treat to the eyes. The scenic beauty on the Kudremukha trek is unparalleled. Having more than enough time to spend the Onti Mara was in many ways a consolation for not making it to the peak. For the first time since morning, I relaxed and allowed myself to completely appreciate the surroundings.

However, as it happens on hills and mountains, the weather took a turn soon enough. A mighty breeze started blowing across the open grasslands bringing with it thick rain. My spirit cowed down again. Moving in the rain is different. Standing in one place as it drenched me made me feel helpless.

I tried to make myself comfortable, sitting on a stone. I wanted to remove the sludge from my slippers and get them dry. Socks and slippers were again a terrible combination. I decided to get rid of the socks. And greeted probably my most important companions on the trek. Leeches. While I knew that there would be some encounter with the leeches on any monsoon trek in the Western Ghats, I’d never expected to be part of an onslaught. Blood oozed from multiple leech bites on my left foot. A random gentleman passing by used his lighter and then bare hands to remove a swollen leach from my foot, even as I looked on, momentarily dazed and helpless at the size of the leech. The bites weren’t hurting. But in their own way seemed to suggest that I had to brace myself for worse luck that day.

Forty minutes of rain and wind seemed like an eternity as I tried to find solace looking and smiling at people who passed the Onti Mara. And finally, there was a second person who decided to abort his trek at the same spot. Mr. Shenoy, who was fifty one and decided to not trek further because he felt his body won’t be able to take it. He made peace with it saying the views were amazing and he couldn’t ask for more. Such consideration for his body and such calm acceptance of his limitations. His group went on. I felt better. We broke the ice slowly, knowing we’d be stuck with each other and would probably need each other to climb down the trail.

Then a third person joined us. Ms. Meera, a Yoga Trainer from Bengaluru, who coincidentally had torn soles too. I started feeling that I wasn’t the only one at fault that day. As we unboxed our packed lunch and started eating, the rain stopped and some sunlight peered through the clouds – reflecting my improved mood and spirit. And ironically, I felt great when one more person from our trekking group, Hemant, returned with a torn sole as well. Clearly, there was something about Kudremukha and shoes that day. His friend Harsh had graciously decided to abandon his trek to give company to Hemant.

We were now a group of five at the Onti Mara. We completed lunch and at one-o-clock, took a call to start climbing down. I mooted the idea that we shouldn’t wait for the others because I didn’t want to be pressured into descending fast in slippers. The others with torn shoes agreed. It took slightly longer to convince Mr. Shenoy  - but he finally agreed seeing he would need more time to descend too.

The weather smiled on us as we descended. The rain had abated. There was almost no wind. The ground seemed drier compared to a couple of hours earlier. And we trundled along. I was obviously at the rear for most part. Mr. Shenoy and Meera turned back every few steps to make sure I was descending ok. I was nervous. But more confident in my slippers than I’d been all morning. For one, I was on the return journey. And it was just the five of us. No one telling us to hurry on and make it quick. We had plenty of time. Getting rid of the socks and the dry weather provided much needed grip that I almost felt comfortable.

Not to say it was completely smooth. I lost track of the number of times I slipped. There were times when I slipped every step of the way for 8-10 steps. And a dangerous moment when Mr. Shenoy was helping me negotiate a step and he fell – dragging me along with him. The rest of them didn’t need as much help as I did. But they stayed back at each steep step, swamp and water body to help me across safely.

The final piece of misfortune on the trek was when the right slipper tore. But by that time, we were so used to my bad luck with footwear that day that Mr. Shenoy joked that the slipper was a martyr. It helped me get down safely for most part and even after being torn, protected my foot. The downside was that Abhishek, who lent me the slippers, remained without footwear for the rest of the trip. Ironically, I still had sandals as back-up in the home stay.

This was the first trek that I had to abort in all these years. And I dearly wanted to complete this one because it was my first trek since the pandemic. Eventually, it turned out to be a totally different experience, making me ruminate on multiple fronts.

First, my total lack of planning and that sense of complacency in thinking that my shoes would last the trek – especially when the leather had started crumbling even as I left home the previous evening. Then, that wonderful piece of destiny, where Abhishek came and sat next to me in the bus journey and we developed enough rapport overnight for him to lend me his pair of slippers on the trek. Else, there was a possibility that I’d have had to trek down barefoot. Between all that was going on in my head at the time, I had the common sense to say I’d abort my trek for the sake of the group and for my own sake. And finally, there are always good Samaritans around only if you’re willing to look for them. Mr. Shenoy, Meera, Hemant and Harsh – all of them who helped me get down step by step for almost five kilometres(which seems like a lot more on the hills). We didn’t know each other before that day – and I’m sure we are not going to end up as buddies. We’d probably end up following each other on Instagram, if anything.

Mr. Shenoy texted a couple of days earlier saying on the night after the trek, he woke up multiple times because his body jerked, mimicking the number of times we slipped throughout the trek. It was the same at my end. I must’ve slipped more than 60 times throughout the day. And amazingly, I didn’t even have a sprain/scratch to show for it. For a while at the Onti Mara, I felt this was probably my worst trekking experience, all thanks to my own doing. But as I sat down laughing at my experience with fellow trekkers that evening and showed them the leech bites that were my trophies, it seemed worthwhile after all.

May be not every trek is meant to be completed! May be it’s the journey, and not always the destination!

 

 

 

                                                                                                   - 12th September 2021