In 2007 a close friend Graham, drew me to a meeting that began a compulsion that's still as fresh as the day it began. 10 years on and still no itch.
Manirang stands proud in Spiti valley in Himachal Pradesh. A valley of barren beauty with towering ice clad peaks, thousand year old Buddhist Monastery's and a long linked history with Lhasa and Tibetan Buddhism. It is one of the last remaining realms of the Snow Leopard, and borders Tibet.
I met the Mountain on that first trip, viewed from Dhankar, one of the oldest Monastery's in the valley it attracted me like all those close to the heart, beautiful, edgy and all at once familiar. I remember asking our guide Prem at the time is there a route to the mountain. "Yes" he sighed, "It's very dangerous"
Seven years later in 2014, Prem, Graham and I retraced the steps of Samuel Bourne (1834 - 1912) across the Manirang La to Ropa. In 2015 we climbed above the Southern Col at 18000 feet in preparation, subject to permission for a future summit attempt.
Our haul to the Summit camp and South Col began in Delhi on the 5th September 2015 and finished in Mane, a small village below the peak on the 18th. Joan Pollock, an Englishwoman inspired by early travels when the region opened up runs a charity (Spiti.org) which has built a school for the village along with developing and providing further healthcare facilities throughout Spiti. Joan first visited the valley when visiting her son a practising doctor in Manali. Joan told me one time that she had to consult with the Dalai Lama's Oracle for the most auspicious date to open the new community centre.
From Delhi, we took the Shatabdi express to Chandigarh, capital of Aryana and Punjab and within an Hour were with our driver for a four hour drive to Simla - the old Summer administrative capital of India in the days of Viceroys and pre partition. It's our starting point for fixing jeeps, drivers and permits. At 7500ft above sea level and with wonderful food its ideal to start our acclimatisation.
We leave on the 8th heading to meet our close friends Prem and his family and spend a little time with them in the village of Kafnoo before heading through the Jurassic park like region of Kinnaur and travelling into the "Inner line" beyond Rekong Peo. Our permits, approved in Simla take account of the Spiti region being a protected area and reflect a nations nervousness to tensions with its neighbours. Spiti borders Chinese Tibet. In fact our journey beyond Rekong Peo takes us past the shipki la, Heinrich Harrer and Peter Aufschneiters escape route from India before their epic "seven years in Tibet"
Our acclimatisation continues in Nako and Tabo - with its beautiful monastery, before the real ascent begins from Mane.
Our first day is a trek through sparse vegetation and rocky paths, leaving the lush meadows that the villagers have reclaimed from the life given by the Spiti rivers tributaries. We ascend with our porters to about 13000 feet, you can feel the effects of thinner air. Camp is a dry lake bed, like some cracked lunar landscape surrounded by towering pillars of rock thrust up from the earths crust. Strata layers, waves hundreds of feet thick clearly visible. To the South West, Manirang rising like the white whale above the sea of strata. Prem, joins us shortly after dark, excited that he has "disturbed" a large animal that he almost bumped into - He doesn't know what it is, "a Bear ?" I ask. "No", "Yak ?", "No" Prem smiles, so we kid him it's a baby Yeti.
Day two involves several hours exposed climb on steep scree paths up the left hand side of the gorge above the lake and gives rise to a few hairy moments. A more comfortable trek across undulating rocky grassland follows to camp two - officially the base camp for Manirang.
Here we wait. We need more supplies and porters to join us. The climb to camp three is unsuitable for mules and, beyond this point our feet will struggle for purchase on exposed scree, crags, the boulder fields and the terminal moraine of the glacier that leads to the head of the Manirang la and the South col.
Whilst time spent acclimatising is essential, our wait for a day, is frustrating. The conditions are perfect to push on but at this time of year in Northern India a season can change in hours, a retreat from here will be treacherous in snow, impossible perhaps, from the next camp.
On day four we leave for our third camp, officially - the advanced base camp for Manirang. It's four consistent hours of steady climb first up a scree strewn rock buttress and then along an exposed rock band to the terminal moraine of the glacier. At 16000 feet, the air is thinner but the view is wonderful, to the North a view back to the barren Spiti valley and the ice capped peaks of Hal ; to the East The curved ice face of Manirang and centuries old overhangs of ice (seracs) that could fall at any minute ; to the South, a rising Glacier of royal icing (more of that later) and to the East the rock Pinnacles typical of the valley and immortalised in Samuel Bournes 19th century photographs.
An approach like this is under constant danger from rockfall. The movement of the sun warming slopes in the afternoon that earlier in the day have been in its frozen shadows. Keen hearing and pace are important when moving across exposed areas; Camps need to be safely located with a ready water supply.
Camp established, and with a sense of elation at the view, Graham and I walk South from camp to a small lake at the confluence of two glaciers it's late afternoon, and forgetting the Sun has been warming the slopes all day I'm drawn to set foot on the edge of the royal icing glacier. Further up, the glacier will be scarred by crevasses, covered by the cosmetics of new snowfall and though there appears to be no such risk where the glacier terminates I will find out the next day it's still a foolish move.
As we walk back to camp - we meet Prem who is looking for us. Our appetites have almost disappeared with the altitude and after a dinner of small nibbles ; soup, curried vegetables, rice, daal and roti we turn in for a night of sleep. The following day we want to try and reach the South Col, our potential summit camp for 2016 and begin our retreat down the mountain before conditions change.
Neither Graham nor I get a wink of sleep. Graham begins to snore. Its constant and sounds like an over enthusiastic neighbour with a new hammer drill. It penetrates my ear plugs, sleeping bag, jacket hood and pillow. Early resignation rises to frustration followed by prodding with an ice axe and several suggestions for solutions, some not printable and none of which will work. It takes real effort the following morning to motivate ourselves and become mobile in the cold with the compound effects of tiredness and altitude, so much so that we leave camp later than expected.
It's day five and we push for two hours below frozen slopes across ankle breaking boulder fields reaching the glacier filled couloir. This leads to the near vertical ascent onto the saddle of the Manirang la. Its tricky, more so as we hit this point in direct sunlight and are almost fried walking across the ice. The ascent up the Saddle is fun, a near vertical wall of shale covered in crisp snow. Exposure aside, kicking the boots in hard it's straightforward apart from the need to cut a few steps where it is frozen.
Its exhausting though and we reach the col in need of a rest. The view across drops into the Ropa valley (a tale for another day perhaps). We need to push on to our left, up the shoulder of Manirang.
After slugging some water laced with soluble vitamin c tablets and chewing a few toffees (it really is all we can get down) we begin to push up the steep slope to our left. We're on exposed scree again between the ice, luckily still in the shadows, it's cool and the risk of rockfall is reduced. Prem is leading and for a while after passing between two rock towers I feel I can't go on. I sit and shuffle into a safe position. Breathless, I tell Graham as he plods past me that I'm conserving energy for the descent. For a few minutes I take in the view beyond the Ropa valley, level now with a sea of snowy summits as far as the eye can see. Graham calls me to follow, it's levelling out and we're almost at a shoulder. I follow and within 10 minutes we're rewarded with what we came for.
Immediately in front of us is the view back towards Hal, and the ranges near the Kunzum la. ; one of Bournes infamous rock towers bears the resemblance of a medieval king ; a look to the left and over our shoulder shows an infinity of white peaks and glaciers and to our right is the towering face of rock scree and ice that leads the last three thousand feet or so to the summit.
We take it all in in twenty minutes or so and then decide to make our way down.
Like most descents, ours is a matter of retracing our steps carefully, making sure we don't over relax and slip. Once we have photographed the summit face for the route in 2016 Our time on the Mountain is over all too soon.
It takes us about three hours to reach the foot of the glacier I visited the evening before. The shadows cast by our side of the valley are long, but the upper slopes on the opposite side are in bright hot sunlight. As we continue there is a sound like a peal of thunder. On the opposite side of the valley a rock, the size of a family car has come loose from the upper slopes and is crashing down the mountain. It comes to rest yards from where I was standing the previous day. Beauty and danger are common bedfellows.
Half an hour later and we can see our camp, though it is too late to leave and descend further it will be another bitterly cold night in the thin air at sixteen thousand feet.
The following day we descend to camp one in the dry lake bed. Exhausted we spend most of the evening trying to rehydrate and sleep well. As we pack in the morning to head back to Mane with our jeep and driver Bobby. I notice in amongst some cattle tracks by the tent a couple that look like large, very large footprints. Whether it was the result of slipping cattle or something else We'll never know but it left us wondering.
We're back in Delhi now, doing our bit for the economy and spending our hard earned Rupees. On Gupta Road, there's a man on his last legs, dying, on the street outside out hotel. There are bigger things to fear in life than the wilderness and it's risks. The real dangers on our doorstep. Always.
Jon
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