Hampta Pass Diary – Chapter-4 : The river crossing and rocky climbs

Hampta Pass Diary – Chapter-4 : The river crossing and rocky climbs

 

24-June-2025 - Chikka to Balu ka Ghera - 3615 m. (11860 ft)

Day 3: River Crossings, Rocky Climbs & A Camp Full of Questions

The sunny morning

Our first task of the day was to cross the stream near the Chikka campsite. It was relatively easy, thanks to the large rocks that served as stepping stones—we just had to be careful not to slip and maintain our balance. But this was only a warm-up. The real challenge was still ahead: a major river crossing that had to be completed before the water level rose too high with the afternoon melt, increasing both flow and force.

Crossing the river stream near Chikka camp site

From the stream, the trail climbed slowly—through massive boulders, some the size of small rooms. The climb was tougher than the day before, demanding constant focus to keep our balance and watch each step carefully. With thinning oxygen and our rucksacks on our backs, it wasn’t easy. Though our group had started first, other batches began catching up as we paused for breaks.

The Chikka camp site and the river streams

What stood out in this stretch were the enormous volcanic rocks, remnants of raw geological power. We didn’t need to climb them, but their sheer size and beauty were humbling. Our Chikka camp leader accompanied us up to the river crossing. He had a habit of climbing one of the higher rocks to keep an eye on everyone, then moving to the next vantage point once the group caught up. I greeted him each time. Interestingly, a guide from another trekking group was doing the same for their batch.

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Break Before the Big Crossing

We reached a resting point—a small local tented café. Some of us had tea and snacked on what we’d carried. Others indulged in Maggi and local bites. The tea was simple but tasted perfect in that chilly mountain air.

After nearly three hours of trekking through rocky terrain, we finally arrived at the river crossing. It wasn’t the same river that had followed us all along, but a powerful tributary—wide and wild enough to feel like a river in itself.

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The River Crossing: A Close Call

We were instructed to remove our shoes and socks, roll our pants up to our knees (or higher), and form human chains by locking hands. We joined the queue and began wading into the freezing water. The current was strong, and we had to step on submerged rocks, supporting each other while staying balanced.

Halfway through, the person ahead of me, Mr. Jovi, lost his footing. Instinctively, we broke hand contact to prevent him from falling, but that disrupted my balance too. I was about to fall forward into the icy stream when three things saved me:

1. My other partner—my wife—was behind me and didn’t let go.
2. We were crossing facing upstream, so had I fallen, I wouldn’t have been swept away by the current.
3. I managed to catch myself with my right hand on a rock, bending into the water but not fully falling.

The water soaked me up to the waist. My clothes were drenched, and even my waist pouch (containing cash and two mobile phones) took a hit. Thankfully, I regained balance, and with the help of a nearby guide (from another group), I crossed the rest of the stream—now already wet, I didn’t have to worry about staying dry.

Once across, I sat down on a rock, inspected the pouch, and found water had seeped in. Though it was water-resistant, it couldn’t withstand full immersion. Luckily, both mobile phones survived and still work to this day.

My wife helped me get reorganized. I had dropped my shoes by the river immediately after crossing but didn’t even realize it until she asked. I retraced my steps and found them resting on a rock.

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A Makeshift Change Room & A Spicy Surprise

Changing into dry clothes was a task in itself. I emptied my entire rucksack, found a towel, and used it as a curtain—held up by my wife—for a quick change. We hung wet items to dry on the rucksack and improvised, even using my knee braces as arm sleeves to let them dry in the sun.

Though we were among the last from our group to leave the riverbank, it was also time for lunch. Just a short walk ahead was a relatively flatter area, almost like a meadow, where our group had settled. Some had already eaten, others had skipped lunch. The vegetable curry was unusually spicy—most likely an accident in the kitchen, probably someone forgot they had already added chili powder and added more.

The lunch break after the river crossing adventure

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The Final Climb to Balu Ka Ghera

After lunch, we packed up and resumed our trek. The weather began to shift. The bright sun was replaced by clouds and a chill in the air. The rocky trail was behind us, but now came a steep grassy climb. It wasn’t technical, but the incline tested our endurance.

Eventually, we reached a point where we could see Balu Ka Ghera campsite in the distance. But no one was there to guide us further. The camp leader had returned to Chikka after everyone crossed the river, one of our guides was already ahead and hadn’t waited, and the others were still behind.

We stood confused, looking around, until we noticed a few people waving at us from high up a steep slope, signaling us to climb. It was almost a vertical climb, with loose rocks and tufts of grass. Going back to find an alternate route didn’t make sense. So we began the climb—zigzagging in a switchback pattern to make it easier.

Finally, my wife and I reached the camp and were greeted by the leader. A couple of group members were already there, including Suchith, and one of the guides.

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Meet Suchith – The Quiet Helper

Suchith, a software engineer from Bangalore, was in his 30s and an experienced trekker. He could have easily been ahead of everyone, but he always stayed back to help—especially during difficult stretches like the river crossing. His quiet presence and selfless assistance were reassuring throughout the trek.

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Clouds Roll In – And So Does Doubt

We received welcome drinks, picked our tents (my wife and I placed our rucksacks in the respective male and female tents), and took some time to enjoy the views. From this higher altitude, we had a beautiful view of the valley below. But soon the clouds rolled in, blocking the view and bringing in the cold. I put on my jacket, and we gathered for tea.

Balu-ka-Ghera camp site

The other camp sites near the river

As Mr. Vikram arrived, I checked if he wanted to join our group tent, but he was fine in another one. The camp leader soon called for a briefing, and our group leads began gathering everyone. Some were still napping, and the leader insisted they be woken up—to avoid Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS).

During the briefing, the leader introduced himself and gave instructions about the next day’s schedule, food timings, and safety measures. Then came an unexpected turn: he began checking oxygen saturation levels of some members and declared a few unfit to continue. This wasn’t a standard practice, as we later learned, but the leader insisted.

Three members were given a recommendation to return the next day: my aunt, her elder daughter, and Mr. Jovi, pending conclusion. My aunt and cousin had done multiple treks before and didn’t agree with the decision. Jovi was especially disappointed—this would be the second trek he couldn't complete after his earlier attempt in the northeast.

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Conversations, Decisions & a Rainy Night

The mood was subdued during soup and dinner. Conversations swirled around the leader’s call, but we tried not to dwell too much. Maybe he was just doing his job—prioritizing safety over sentiment.

It had gotten dark and misty. After dinner, we returned to our tent. I had to step out briefly and returned to find our group rearranging their rucksacks under torchlight. There were more quiet conversations, especially as one of my uncles also expressed doubt about continuing. The elder uncle added that he had done a trek with this camp leader before and respected his judgment.

It became clear that five members from our group—my aunt, uncle, their elder daughter, the other uncle, and his son—had decided to return instead of continuing. It was disheartening, but perhaps for the best.

Soon, rain started, and we had to move our shoes to the slope above our tent to keep them from getting wet. Since the campsite was set on a hill, we even had to sleep carefully to avoid sliding down.

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Nightfall: The Wind Howls

As we tried to sleep, the wind picked up and the rain pounded hard on the tent. Some of us dozed off quickly; others chatted quietly. I had another night of interrupted sleep, listening to the wind howl and the rain lash against the fabric. My mind wandered—worried about our shoes, the tents near the river, and whether everything would hold.

Then I reminded myself: none of it was in my control. Worrying wouldn’t change anything. So I turned to my side, closed my eyes, and let the storm pass.