A hard climb up to Ladakhi

When it comes to climbing, Mallory&rsquos famous line makes for terrific party patter. It&rsquos one of those quotable quotes that, in the eyes of your listeners, instantly transports you from the recesses of a plush sofa to the top of Everest. Given where it got Mallory himself, it is to my mind one of the silliest reasons for undergoing the self-induced punishment called mountaineering.

My mind was thus cynically occupied as I took the next step. And stopped. I needed to rest. Again.

We had been climbing for a couple of hours and our objective, a rocky tooth on the slope above, had frustratingly not gotten any closer. Yet, looking back down the ridge, the valley floor had receded to miniature scale, a grey disc cut up by white watery veins that collected at its far end to form the Beas. This confirmation of progress did little to ease my sore legs.

The chance to get out and climb a mountain had sounded so good in 40-something-degree Delhi. The Indian Mountaineering Federation&rsquos categorisation of Ladakhi as a &lsquotrekking peak&rsquo suggested a friendly walk to the top. I had crossed passes higher than its 18,000ft summit. How difficult could this, my maiden climb, be

Further up the slope, my three companions, silhouetted against the higher snows, were making steady progress. But then what did I expect Avilash had an &lsquoadvanced&rsquo course and &lsquosearch and rescue&rsquo training under his belt both Pankaj and Manoj were ex-instructors. Annoyingly fit. The three of them, and me, the city slicker.

Some bright spark had named this Rape Ridge, and it was evident why. My progress was made painful from the 15kg pack I was heaving. I had scoffed at Avilash&rsquos suggestion that we share a tube of toothpaste to economise on weight. Now his suggestion weighed heavily on me. Every gram added to my labour. It took me five difficult hours to make the 3,500-ft ascent to the next camp.

God had sweetly waited for me to show up before he started his snow machine. Nothing like adverse weather to fast-track efficiency. In record time, the two tents were up, stoves fired, tea ready and lunch cooking. It was wonderful to have a hot cuppa inside. Snow and rain in the evening, by the way, were welcome the morning would most likely be clear, which was crucial to our summit attempt the next day.

The day came much too soon. Alarms went off at 3am. We were to set off early to take advantage of cold morning temperatures that keep the snow compact and easy to walk on. I hung onto every excuse possible to stay in the comfort of my sleeping bag. Luckily for me, a dysfunctional stove delayed us.

It was nearly 5am by the time we set off. Not a happy start. Yet the sky looked clear, and was lightening to an inky blue. We were roped up with Manoj breaking trail. Pankaj came next, followed by me, with Avilash in the sweep. We went up the slope to the sound of snow crunching under our boots and laboured breathing. Headlamps threw halos around the heads of the climbers. Almost immediately, the slope picked up a cruel elevation. Manoj cut a zig-zag pattern across the gradient, which we followed, footprint by footprint. I kept my nose down and my mind focused. There was little point in looking up at our first objective &mdash a col on the ridgeline far above.

An hour later, we stopped by a rock outcrop to attach crampons to our boots. I was secretly thankful for the break. Struggling to keep pace, I had not had the head to look around, and was shocked when I looked down the steep slope. The two tents were tiny red dots. The potential consequences of a slip numbed my mind. Wide fingers of snow ran down the slope, all the way to the foot of the mountain. In a matter of a minute, small pieces of my body could be bathing in the Beas Kund.

But there was enough of the Maker&rsquos awesome creation to yank me from my pessimism. Behind us, the entire south wall was a spiky snow-splattered ridge, glowing in the morning light. Far below, yet clearly visible, the valley was like a toy-set diorama.

The pristine snow was marked by a row of equally spaced footprints, and a rhythm of tubular holes every two steps, made by the point of our ice axes. This regularity was disturbed only by the randomness of marks left by the climbing rope that connected us, as it was dragged up the slope. What a mind will notice to keep itself occupied

The struggle continued. Manoj was two pointing straight up parts of the incline, gently kicking to embed the front-two crampon teeth into the snow, trusting his body weight on these inch-and-a-half long prongs, as he stepped up, following through with a kick with the other foot. The sun hit the col above us, and rays broke through like a beacon. Manoj stepped into that light. He was on top We followed with renewed energy, and flopped around next to him. The three-hour climb had pretty much drained me. My heart banged away at my chest as if it were dying to get out and have a look-see at the amazing vista.

The col was on a narrow ridge of gently undulating snow which looked down, on the other side, into the Chandra valley of Lahaul, far far below. The view was stunning. Stretching to the east the ridge rose gently to the summit of Shetidhar, and to the west, our objective &mdash Ladakhi. It rose straight up from the ridge, a large spike of brown and white.

The base of the mountain was easily approachable, but, to my horror, the route thereafter was up a razor-edge ridge stretching from base to summit. The ridge, with cornices, and overhangs of rock, looked as if it involved some delicate technical climbing for which I, in my present condition, was not ready. I opted out. Mountaineering is a zero-tolerance sport. Mistakes almost always involve severe injury, if not a fatality. My decision was met with silent approval.

Having replenished ourselves with warm water and chocolate, we set off. After trekking for another half hour across this flattish ridge I unclipped myself, at a nice vantage point from which to photograph their route to the summit.

My companions made slow progress, and by the time they reached the base of the summit ridge, a lazy cloud had inched up the valley and overtaken them. A curtain of white wiped all but the memory of my last sighting of the three men. Alone and cold, a rush of nervousness took hold of me. It was eerie being in this ghostly space with no reference of the world that existed outside of it. The disorientation and cold were getting to me. My mind wandered to imagining the warmth of my sleeping bag and a hot cup of soup.

That was it I decided to turn back. Having radioed in my decision and wished them luck, I retraced our steps to the col. My resolve to return alone dropped away as suddenly as the floor of the col. I was shocked to look over the edge. The slope fell away steeply into the whiteness. Was my altitude-lightened mind thinking rationally How was I to get down, alone and un-roped

I sat on my butt, feet ahead, and inched downwards tentatively. The snow offered no hold. Almost immediately I slipped, picking up momentum as I went down the slope. Panic I swung onto my stomach as I plunged the pick end of the axe into the snow, in an attempt to arrest my fall. The top layer of snow had been reduced to a watery slush by the morning sun, and offered no resistance. I kicked my feet into the snow to add to the drag. Slowly, thankfully, the fall slowed, till another plunge of the axe head finally held true.

The col was too far up now. There was no returning to its safety, to wait, as I should have, for the group. I sank the point of the axe, burying it to its head, and used it as an anchor to let my feet drop, one at a time, kicking the front points of the crampons into the slope. Later, Manoj was to tell me that I had inadvertently hit on a correct descent technique. Instinct took me down the mountain. Two hours from the col, my wobbly legs carried me into the relative security of the camp, where a steaming bowl of Maggi made by the porters stood in for a cup of soup.

The three were to return later in the afternoon. They had turned back with 18,066ft on the GPS, short of the summit, bowing out to inclement weather.

There was comfort for me in the legendary climber&rsquos son John Mallory&rsquos objective view of climbing &ldquoTo me the only way you achieve a summit is to come back alive. The job is half done if you don&rsquot get down again.&rdquo So what if I had not made it to the summit &mdash I did get the other half right

The information

Getting to Manali

BUS There are daily non-AC and AC Volvo coaches from Delhi to Manali (570km). Book online at the Himachal Pradesh Tourism website (hptdc.nic.in). TRAIN There is no direct rail service to Manali. Take the Kalka Shatabdi to Chandigarh (leaves 7.40am, arrives 11am), and do the remaining journey by road (approx. 8hrs).

The climbs

Three peaks that share the ridgeline north of Beas Kund work well as &lsquofirst tries&rsquo. The Indian Mountaineering Federation (IMF) terms Ladakhi and Friendship &lsquotrekking peaks&rsquo &mdash one does not need permission to climb them. However, they are higher than the 17,250-odd feet that IMF records show them to be. Beginners are cautioned not to attempt them without professional help. Shetidhar (or Kshitidhar), the third one, is not a &lsquotrekking peak&rsquo, but is easier, with a gentle approach to the summit.

Operators

Manali-based operators do not specialise in mountaineering, but will take you climbing. The following are reliable International Treks & Tours (01902-251139, internationaltrekkers@gmail.com), Alpine Treks & Tours (01902-251835, alpinetreks@rediffmail.com), Himalayan Discovery (01902-250530, rishi@himalayandiscovery.in). Trips to any of the three peaks (from Manali) take 10 days for beginners. Plan to spend two nights in Manali this will help in acclimatising later.

When to go

Either in the pre-monsoon period (May-June) or post-monsoon (September-October).