#5: The Sandakphu and Phalut Meadows
The Sandakphu trek is a tea house trek. The path weaves in and out of small settlements, sometimes veers into Nepal and returns back into India. It climbs up till Tonglu, flattens out and then goes down. And the cycle, kind of repeats. Streams are rare all along the trail, but the scarcity of water peaks between Sandakphu and Phalut. Also, what peaks, is the wind - stand for a while along the barren meadows and you could hear the wind whistling in your ear – dry and cold, and sometimes moist. Inside the beautifully arranged Tibetan hut. For me, the memory of this place will stay on for a long, long time.
The lone forest camp at Sabarkum is a rest house, where we had the most ordinary cup of tea, taste the best. The barbed wires of the border are porous and the Chauris (grazing buffalos) have made both the countries their home. On all days, the mist and cloud rolled with impunity during the afternoon hours. Dark clouds hovered during the evenings and thunderstorms hit every night. At Phalut, sleep was hard to come by for you could hear the howling wind rattle the doors and windows.
When you can’t see the Sleeping Buddha (the Kanchenjunga range), pry deeper into the landscape and villages. What you will see, will never cease to amaze the city dweller. Gentle, undulating meadows that rise and fall, through which the trail cuts like a winding brown thread.
This was the Singalila ridge, so classic and so much clearly evident. The sight of that sole rhododendron bent along the hill side, probably obeying to the wind, was not uncommon. Stone engravings of the Buddhist scripts were on the sides of the track. Buds were blooming into flowers and insects sucked nectar from them. This was not a garden that was planted. It had grown wild and settled down on its own and that is where the beauty lay.
We took the long, unending downhill path from Phalut to Srikhola. After the forest camp of Sabarkum, the track became an unforgivingly knee wobbling stretch. The barren meadowlands had given way to deep, mist filled forests, birds chirped in rhythmic intervals; the sound of our feet gave way to sounds of rustling leaves in the immediate vicinity. The track resembled waist deep military trenches. Leopards aren’t uncommon in these jungles, but they usually hide in the deeper reaches of the forests. And since this was the third consecutive day of walking 20+kms, fatigue hit us very easily forcing us to drag ourselves through the downhill trail.
Sometime later, as we continued our downhill walk, we could hear the sound of a stormy river. Terraced fields, concrete mule tracks and electricity cables appeared. The density of settlements increased and then we could see the beginning of a black topped road. This was transition from the pristine to the normal. It meant fresh food, fruit juices, fragrant tea, clean linen, a good bed, hot water bath and a drink of beer somewhere down the valley. It meant the end of one life and the resumption of another.
The Sandakphu trek is a tea house trek. The path weaves in and out of small settlements, sometimes veers into Nepal and returns back into India. It climbs up till Tonglu, flattens out and then goes down. And the cycle, kind of repeats. Streams are rare all along the trail, but the scarcity of water peaks between Sandakphu and Phalut. Also, what peaks, is the wind - stand for a while along the barren meadows and you could hear the wind whistling in your ear – dry and cold, and sometimes moist. Inside the beautifully arranged Tibetan hut. For me, the memory of this place will stay on for a long, long time.
The lone forest camp at Sabarkum is a rest house, where we had the most ordinary cup of tea, taste the best. The barbed wires of the border are porous and the Chauris (grazing buffalos) have made both the countries their home. On all days, the mist and cloud rolled with impunity during the afternoon hours. Dark clouds hovered during the evenings and thunderstorms hit every night. At Phalut, sleep was hard to come by for you could hear the howling wind rattle the doors and windows.
When you can’t see the Sleeping Buddha (the Kanchenjunga range), pry deeper into the landscape and villages. What you will see, will never cease to amaze the city dweller. Gentle, undulating meadows that rise and fall, through which the trail cuts like a winding brown thread.
This was the Singalila ridge, so classic and so much clearly evident. The sight of that sole rhododendron bent along the hill side, probably obeying to the wind, was not uncommon. Stone engravings of the Buddhist scripts were on the sides of the track. Buds were blooming into flowers and insects sucked nectar from them. This was not a garden that was planted. It had grown wild and settled down on its own and that is where the beauty lay.
We took the long, unending downhill path from Phalut to Srikhola. After the forest camp of Sabarkum, the track became an unforgivingly knee wobbling stretch. The barren meadowlands had given way to deep, mist filled forests, birds chirped in rhythmic intervals; the sound of our feet gave way to sounds of rustling leaves in the immediate vicinity. The track resembled waist deep military trenches. Leopards aren’t uncommon in these jungles, but they usually hide in the deeper reaches of the forests. And since this was the third consecutive day of walking 20+kms, fatigue hit us very easily forcing us to drag ourselves through the downhill trail.
Sometime later, as we continued our downhill walk, we could hear the sound of a stormy river. Terraced fields, concrete mule tracks and electricity cables appeared. The density of settlements increased and then we could see the beginning of a black topped road. This was transition from the pristine to the normal. It meant fresh food, fruit juices, fragrant tea, clean linen, a good bed, hot water bath and a drink of beer somewhere down the valley. It meant the end of one life and the resumption of another.
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| Houses of Srikhola Village |
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| Houses of Srikhola Village |
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| Inside the Tibetan Home |
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| Tea Gardens near Mirik |
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| Dooars Forests |
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| Mustard Fields |
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| Srikhola River |
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