Takeaways from the Baraadsar Lake expedition

Reflections on the relationship between humans and the environment

Pc: skye prentice :)

The Baraadsar Lake expedition was phenomenal in more ways than one. For my happiness on this trek, I have many people to thank. But most of all, I have to thank Mother Nature, for showing me a joy far deeper than the joy surpassing my ‘altitude ceiling’ – the knowing that this was what I was blessed to do. Step by step I reconnected with the life and the earth I loved.

In this essay, I pen the product of my conversation with the world around me:

Pc: skye prentice :)

1. It’s the journey, not the destination, which matters. Reading ‘Call of the White’, the story of seven women from across the Commonwealth nations who skied to the South Pole, one quote stood out to me, “it seemed to me important to rekindle interest in our planet and to show by example that high adventure was still at hand, that quite ordinary people without advanced skills can realise the most astonishing and ambitious goals if they set their minds to it.” And I realised, yes, this summarises what this expedition should be about. It is about 12 disparate personalities with ordinary/no trekking background coming together and synergising to elevate ourselves 10,00ft to a height of 14,435ft. I had always been more of a ‘competitive’ hiker, with ambitions to summit as fast as possible. This time though, what made the experience more satisfying was the collective experience of accomplishing milestones - passing the treeline, gaping at snowcapped peaks, scrambling up rocky screes and hiking to the blue-green Baraadsar Lake, together.

2. Beautiful things are at hand if I would just let myself see them. My first evening at Himri campsite, I went outside with a headlamp to read by the river. However, flies big and small came swarming to my headlamp and attacking my face. I’d shake away flies and back they’d come, drawn to the only light source in my valley. Sighing I gave in. I turned off the headlamp, looked up, and beheld - in all directions and stretching behind the surrounding mountains - innumerable twinkling silver stars, speckled across the night sky. It was really, really magical.

3. Pooping past dark and in early mornings is the best feeling ever. After I find a suitable spot and flick off the headlamp, it feels as if I have the whole world to myself, with the silhouettes of trees and the mountain slopes bearing witness, as I answer the call of nature. Apart from its obvious inconvenience, I enjoyed peeing and pooping on the mountain trail. As Edward Abbey describes in The Monkey Wrench Gang, it was “no sacrilege – only a quiet jubilation.”

4. Context matters. Crossing a narrow pass with a waterfall and a cliff face to our right and slippery rocks to our left, the group were confronted with two men photographing our crossing. We were taken aback and did not respond swiftly enough to confront the intruders. Some of us got really upset, and this incident was mentioned by a few as a ‘low’ point during the debrief session. But Titu explained that the men had been capturing documentary evidence of the dangerous path to boost their advocacy to the government for the construction of a safer path. Given this context, their actions became more understandable. The incident became less about the infringement of privacy and more about a legitimate safety concern shared by the villagers, and which should be remedied.

5. Take it one step at a time. In past day-hikes, my strategy had been to scramble quickly, even run, up slopes. This expedition was the first time that I’m finding my frame as a small hiker stacking the odds against me, when I have to carry 1/6 of my body weight up treacherous slopes with me. By the second day, the fatigue of bodily exertion kicked in. I could not get used to how heavy my bag felt, and just like running a marathon, I found that it doesn’t ever get easier. What helped me through that day was Zach (my trek-leader) snapping me out of self-pity and unhelpful thoughts about how tired I felt or how I could have packed lighter for the trek. From then, I took his advice to focus on breathing deeply and very simply, plodding on, all the way to the campsite.

6. Given the above, it was a real surprise to find that mastering the art of packing a trekpack can make life so much easier. On the day that we would ascend 1970ft and cross the treeline, I woke even before the crack of dawn to give myself a wide berth of time to carefully consider how to make my trekpack less top-heavy. Even though that day’s trek was claimed to be the most treacherous by our guides, I found it easier than usual. I was breathing better and in higher spirits – even enjoying the ache in my thighs and glutes!  

7. Sleeping early is natural, healthy behaviour, made unnatural in urban environments. In Singapore, even Mussoorie, I would do work on the laptop and read on my phone till late past midnight. In my three-men tent in the middle of the forest, however, far away from fluorescent city lights and pervasive light pollution, my iPhone screen is conspicuously and artificially bright in the pitch dark tent even at 8pm. Illuminating the tent, it hurts my eyes and disturbs the sleep of my tent-mates. I abandoned attempts to journal on my phone and fell asleep quite quickly every night.

8. Nature never disappoints. Having the thundering of the river drown away everything superficial and unimportant felt phenomenal. I felt restored to my identity, my true essence, cleansed of sorrow, fear, selfishness and judgment. In Nature’s embrace, I feel no judgment – have never felt judgment – only challenge by choice. The day that we hiked to the lake, I pushed myself exceptionally hard to follow the guide up a rocky and steeply-inclined path. My thighs and glutes cried in pain. At one of the steep slopes, he turned around, smiled and said, “Good!” I beamed back “Thank you”, realising – through challenging myself in nature – that I am stronger than I think. Perhaps I may never gain control over my life and its circumstances. But just as this expedition started at River Rupin and ended across mountain ridges at River Supin, I can go in the darkest nights as rivers flow - fearlessly, unceasingly, bravely, beautifully, in full confidence of the next sunrise and a glorious bluegreeness to come.