Hampta Pass Diary – Chapter-1 : The journey to Base camp
The Call of the Mountains: Hampta Diary
There’s something about the mountains
that stirs the soul—an ancient whisper, a challenge in the wind, an invitation
to leave behind the noise of everyday life. For weeks, I’d heard that call,
urging me to step away from the familiar and embark on a journey that would
test not only my physical limits but also my inner resolve. The idea of
trekking through uncharted paths, surrounded by towering peaks and the raw
beauty of nature, had always been a distant dream. But now, the dream was about
to become a reality.
I wasn’t just setting out to conquer a trail or
tick off a bucket list item. This trek was a quest for something deeper: the
thrill of the unknown, the joy of simplicity, and the undeniable pull to
connect with the earth in its most primal form. With every step, I knew there
would be moments of doubt, challenges that might feel insurmountable and
breathtaking views that would make the struggle worthwhile.
This is the story of that journey—a journey that
began with nothing more than a desire to get lost, only to find parts of myself
I never knew existed.
18-June-2025
Left home around 10 PM and reached the
railway station in about 35–40 minutes.
Now, all that was left to do was wait—for the train that was
scheduled a couple of hours past midnight.
19-June-2025 - Pune to Dadar
Having someone for company helps. In fact, having someone to pass the time with makes the wait much easier. But that’s also when I run out of things to say. I’m never sure if what I’m about to say will be interesting, funny, or just plain boring. And staying silent doesn’t really help either.
That’s when the mobile phone comes to
the rescue—if not for me, then definitely for the one keeping me company.
So, I just sit there, watching. The rain. The arriving and departing trains.
People moving about at that odd hour of the night. India truly is a fascinating
mix of people. It’s almost mesmerizing to observe—their struggles, the choices
they make, small moments of joy, and that ever-present pressure to do
something and achieve something, whether it really matters
or not.
There’s the ticket checker staff,
rounding up groups of poor passengers without proper tickets. They’re supposed
to penalize them, but more often than not, they just extract some cash and
settle things on the side.
Then there’s the railway cleaning staff, tirelessly sweeping the platforms—only
to shift the dirt from one corner to another.
And then there's us—the public—the very reason all this exists.
Sometimes, I wonder how this country
runs as smoothly as it does, seemingly on auto-pilot. With the kind of chaos we
witness daily, you'd expect things to collapse entirely. But somehow, it keeps
going.
Back to the present. There's silence,
with the occasional chat about how much longer it'll take, or which platform
the train will actually arrive at. More often than not, we’ll
be waiting at Platform 2, and the train will halt briefly at Platform 8. That
means a mad dash with luggage—up the stairs, across the footbridge, and down
again—just to reach the right coach in time.
We talk about past travel experiences.
Like the time when two seats were booked together in the same coach but ended
up in different compartments. How common that issue is, and how we always try
to find someone willing to swap seats, just so two people traveling together
can actually sit together. And when that happens—victory!
Around us, most people are glued to
their phones. Some even blare Instagram reels on speakers. Apparently, common
sense and public courtesy are not so common anymore—they’ve become premium traits.
Finally, the PA system announces our
train number and the platform. People perk up, get moving. We wait a bit
longer, then shift closer to where our coach is supposed to stop (though it
still usually requires a small sprint).
We get in, stash the bags, and climb into our berths. Time to sleep—or at least
try to rest—for the journey is short and the next day is going to be long.
Dadar to Bandra
The train was running on time, and we
reached our destination around 6 AM. It was still raining, and the sky was
dim—sunrise technically, but with those thick monsoon clouds, it was hard to
tell when or where the sunlight would actually break through.
We waited for a while on a bench at the
platform. Gradually, daylight began to seep in, but the sun itself stayed
hidden. The rain, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down. It had
accompanied us throughout the journey and was clearly committed to continuing
its work.
Eventually, we moved on. Took the
stairs, crossed the FOB, and made our way to Platform No. 1. After finishing
the bare-minimum morning routine, we booked a cab to take us to another
station—from where we’d catch our next train around noon.
The cab was coming from the same area
we were headed towards, so we assumed the driver would know the local roads, be
aware of any waterlogging, and get us there on time. But of course... things
rarely go as planned.
When the cab reached near the station,
we stepped out into the rain and crossed the road, struggling to find even a
small dry spot to stand—partly because right outside the station was a
full-blown vegetable market. But instead of approaching us, the cab took a turn
in the opposite direction. The ETA started climbing: 11 minutes... 19
minutes... 24 minutes...
With the rain still coming down and
luggage in tow, we gave up. Headed back inside the station, thought it over for
a few minutes, and canceled the cab.
All this while, we kept noticing the
Mumbai locals—the lifeline of the city—passing by every 2–3 minutes, heading
exactly where we needed to go. The rain had slowed down, too.
We looked at each other: “Why not just
take a local?”
Decision made.
We got our tickets from the
self-service kiosk and soon enough, a slow local rolled in. We boarded, took a
few selfies (for memories, of course), and within 15 minutes, we were at our
destination.
Now, in Mumbai, because of the sheer
frequency of local trains, the platforms are usually segregated—local trains
have their own, and inter-state trains have theirs. In our case, the platform
for long-distance trains was nearly 800 meters away from where we got off.
Even though Google Maps gave us a rough
idea, we double-checked with someone at the platform. The directions were
vague—probably because he had never boarded an inter-state train from there.
Luckily, my better half had noticed the area while we were arriving, so we
headed off again—playing the role of porters once more, hauling our luggage.
When we reached the station, we asked a
railway police officer about the waiting area. He pointed us in a direction,
and after a mini workout—climbing stairs, walking, climbing down again—we found
a bench and took a breather.
I went ahead to scout the actual
waiting area. Found it, returned, grabbed the bags, and off we went again. The
waiting hall was spacious and comfortable, a relief after the chaos. But now,
we were starving. We’d barely slept all night, woke up early, and hadn’t eaten
anything since dinner.
So, the better half went out first and
came back with vada-pav. Honestly, what better snack to have in Mumbai? They
vanished in seconds. Melted like butter.
I went to explore the AC waiting room,
but since we only had second-class sleeper tickets, access wasn’t allowed.
Sure, a little “extra” might have worked—but we weren’t keen on going down that
road. We also missed a better option, but that’s a story for later.
The general waiting area, though, was
pretty decent—well-ventilated and lively. You could see people, trains, and the
occasional interaction between strangers (us included). It passed the time
nicely.
After resting for a bit, we moved to
the canteen. Ordered a sandwich and a plate of aloo parathas, washed down with
some hot tea. Surprisingly, the tea was excellent—much better than the usual
sugary, milky hot water you get on platforms or in the train.
By the time we finished, we had about
an hour left before departure. So, we headed toward the platform where our
train would arrive. Another short round of luggage-carrying drama—porter mode
activated again! Thankfully, this round was much shorter.
Bandra boarding
The train started from the same station
we were at, so it was already parked when we arrived. However, all the reserved
coach doors were locked from the inside. Fortunately, our coach was right next
to an unreserved one, and its doors were open. We entered through there and
made our way to our seats. After arranging and securing our luggage, we locked
everything up and settled in. Within a few minutes, I climbed up to the upper
berth, hoping to catch some sleep.
We were both really tired, but as
always, when you want to sleep, your mind suddenly finds a
hundred reasons not to. My spouse managed to drift off into a series of light
naps, but I just kept cycling between trying to sleep and waking up—over and
over.
As other passengers slowly started
boarding, the intermittent activity only made that sleep-wake cycle more
frustrating.
By the time the train departed, it had
started raining again. For a while, it was just the two of us in our
compartment. I got down to shut the windows to keep the rain from soaking the
seats and our bags, then climbed back up to give sleep another shot. But soon
enough, the next station arrived, and more passengers boarded—among them a
family of three: parents and their daughter, who were assigned to our
compartment. Sleep, again, remained elusive.
Eventually, I gave up and waited for my
better half to wake up. Once she did, we grabbed something to eat.
A couple of hours later, we reached
Surat. My uncle and cousin were supposed to board from there. My uncle had a
seat in the same coach (a few compartments away), while my cousin had one in a
different, AC coach. I got down when the train stopped to help them with their
luggage. Once settled, my cousin went to his coach to make sure he was present
when the ticket checker came by—otherwise, his seat might get marked as vacant
and reassigned.
My uncle went off to take a nap, and we
returned to our seats to rest as well. We kept checking on each other, catching
up, and sitting together now and then. After a while, my cousin came back,
having officially “marked” his seat. We all sat together, chatted, sipped tea,
and had snacks—the classic time-pass of any Indian train journey, second only
to scrolling through phones.
We were also in touch with another
uncle and cousin, who were to board from Ahmedabad (or possibly Karnavati).
When the station arrived, we got down to receive them and helped with their
luggage. Again, their seat assignments were spread across different coaches—our
cousin's was in the next compartment, but our uncle and his family were in an
AC coach.
Now there were seven of us in the same
sleeper coach, which made things more enjoyable. With my cousin's seat close
by, we could freely move between compartments and chat. We even managed to
convince a fellow passenger to swap seats, so we had five of us together in the
next compartment, which made coordination easier. Naturally, we brought out the
cards and played a few games to pass the time.
Later in the evening, our uncle and
aunt from the AC coach came over to check on us. We had dinner from the
homemade food we’d all packed, shared stories, and relaxed. After chatting for
a bit, we turned in for the night.
The next morning, two of us woke up
early, followed gradually by everyone else. We had tea, then some snacks once
everyone was up. More card games followed, and then lunch—there was still
plenty of food left from what we had brought.
At one point, the train arrived early
at a station, so we walked along the platform to visit our uncle and aunt in
the AC coach. On the way back, though, the train started moving just as we were
about to reboard, so we had to return through the coaches instead.
Finally, by early afternoon, we reached
our destination: Chandigarh.
20-June-2025 : Chandigarh off-boarding and sightseeing
We got off the train and called the
other family, who were waiting for us near the foot overbridge. The station was
undergoing renovation or expansion, so there was rubble everywhere, certain
areas were closed off, and a bottleneck had formed near the FOB. We had to wait
a bit until the crowd thinned out and things returned to normal.
Since we had several hours before our
next journey—a bus departing from Chandigarh around 10 PM—we decided to explore
a few nearby places. We left our luggage in the waiting room, where our aunt
stayed back to rest, and the rest of us headed out.
We booked taxis to Sukhna Lake.
It’s a lovely spot, but we were surprised to see such a large crowd on a
weekday afternoon. We sat for a while, soaking in some shade and recovering
from the heat, then looked into nearby attractions. Boating at the lake was an
option, but given the crowd, the wait was likely long. So we decided to visit
the Rock Garden instead.
We hopped into local rickshaws and
reached the Rock Garden, bought entry tickets, and began exploring.
Nek Chand’s creation is truly fascinating—full of photo-worthy spots, recycled
art, and winding paths. The garden is massive; we easily walked 2–3 kilometers
inside before we exited.
Quick peak in to the Rock Garden
A couple of quick observations:
- It was very hot.
- A young girl fainted—likely from dehydration.
- Some people were bathing in the artificial waterfalls, which were
really meant just for aesthetics.
After the visit, we took rickshaws back
to the railway station, picked up our luggage, and then booked cabs to
the ISBT (Inter-State Bus Terminal).
Here’s an important note:
When we booked tickets online for Chandigarh to Manali, the pickup location
showed as Tribune Chowk. But it's actually better to go directly
to ISBT, as the bus originates from there, and your ticket is
technically booked from that point. Also, we booked tickets all the way
to Manali, which cost a bit more than tickets to Kullu,
because we weren’t sure where exactly to get off for our base camp. Later, we
found out the base camp is about 1.5 km from the highway, involving
some hiking and a descent, which can be quite tiring with luggage.
At ISBT, we found a place to sit,
chatted for a while, and later went for dinner at one of the food outlets in
the station. The food was okay—not amazing, but definitely not bad. After
dinner, we returned to our seats and waited for the bus.
Since the journey started from there,
the bus arrived a little early and was parked at Bay No. 18. We
knew the number well—at least four of us had asked the help desk separately,
probably annoying the staff. I’m sure the person at the counter was silently
wishing for an IVR to automate the response.
Luckily, I also received an SMS with the bus number and the conductor’s contact
details, which reassured us that we were set.
🧭 The Trekking Squad: Meet the Family
To give you a sense of our group
dynamics, here’s a quick intro to our 11-member Gujarati family, as we came to
be known among fellow trekkers:
- Uncle, Aunt, and Daughters
- Four members: Uncle, Aunt (both senior citizens), and their two
daughters (in their 30s).
- Experienced trekkers—this wasn’t their first.
- Among the five siblings in our extended family, their daughters
are the eldest and youngest.
- This uncle is the third sibling; second oldest among the three
brothers.
- Uncle and His Son
- This uncle is the youngest of the five siblings (fourth in order).
- His son (my cousin) initially had a seat in the AC coach but later
joined us.
- Just the two of them.
- Cousin, His Wife, and Nephew
- Cousin (son of the eldest sister), his wife, and their nephew (his
sister’s son).
- Both husband and wife are in their 30s and new to trekking, just
like us.
- The nephew, 19 years old, was the youngest in the group.
- The Two of Us
- My spouse (late 30s) and I (early 40s).
- First-time trekkers too—though I’ve done Amarnath and Vaishno Devi
yatras in my early 20s, those feel like a lifetime ago.
And there you have it:
4 + 2 + 3 + 2 = 11 people – the full trekking team. We were
affectionately referred to as “the Gujarati family” by others
in our batch.
Chandigarh to Kullu
We boarded the bus and settled into our
seats, which were quite comfortable. It was a semi-sleeper with ample
legroom—and, as we would find out the next day at base camp, it even had
charging points (something none of us noticed during the ride). The driver and
conductor were friendly, helpful, and responsive.
The trek organizers had already created
a WhatsApp group for all members of our batch, sharing important details
including a location pin for the base camp. When we showed the conductor the
pin, he informed us that the base camp was located on the old
Kullu-Manali road, while the bus would be taking the new highway.
This meant the nearest drop-off point would be about 1.5 km away from
the base camp—but what we didn’t know then was that this short stretch included
an uphill climb and a descent through uneven terrain.
To avoid unnecessary trouble with all
our luggage, we decided to get off at Kullu instead. The
conductor confirmed that we could catch local buses from the
Kullu ISBT (Inter-State Bus Terminal) that take the old route to Manali. These
usually start around 6:00–6:30 AM. That gave us a clear plan.
We had stocked up on bottled water
before boarding, but to our surprise, everyone was also given a bottle of water
by the bus staff. Soon, we were moving through the busy streets of Chandigarh,
with light showers occasionally joining us along the way—a theme that had been
following us since the beginning of our journey.
We were all exhausted—none of us had
really slept the night before—so we tried to catch some rest. Despite the
semi-sleeper comfort, deep sleep was elusive. Some managed to nap decently;
others just drifted in and out of light sleep.
The bus made two stops during
the journey. A few of us, including me, stepped out at both. The first stop was
uneventful, just a quick refresh. But the second one turned out to be quite
memorable.
Only my uncle and I got off at this
second stop. It had just rained, and thousands of insects—the kind
that swarm after rain—were everywhere. The hotel nearby had turned off most of
its lights to avoid attracting them, but we still had to walk through a literal
cloud of flying bugs just to reach the washroom, which was also filled with
these creatures—both alive and dead. For some, that might be unpleasant, but I
found it fascinating. I’d never seen that many insects in one place before.
After our tea break there, we noticed the bugs had mostly vanished and the lights
were back on. So much fuss for such a short life, I thought.
Back on the bus, we returned to our
cycle of naps, and eventually, we reached Kullu around 3:30–3:45
AM, while it was still dark. Since I had been semi-awake for a while, I was
tracking our location on Google Maps and woke up my wife and others in advance.
A few others were already awake too, as many passengers were getting off at
Kullu.
We collected our luggage from the
compartments beneath the bus. The bus didn’t go inside the actual bus station
but dropped us just outside. Some from our group went in to check
the place out and returned shortly. We all walked inside, found some benches,
and sat down. The station already had people resting or sleeping wherever they
could find space.
We had a few hours before any local
transport would begin toward Seobagh, where the base camp was
located. One of our group members had posted in the WhatsApp group when we left
Chandigarh, asking about early morning arrival and transport options from
Kullu—but since it was late at night, there was no response yet.
To pass time, we sat in a circle and
started playing cards. However, a security guard came over and asked us to
stop, citing the surveillance cameras. Even Uno was denied!
Not quite sure what law we were breaking, but we obliged and went back to the
age-old question: “How do we kill time now?”
Around 5 AM, a shop inside the bus
stand started opening. I immediately went over—tea was being prepared, and some
snacks were available too. A few of us decided to have some hot tea and light
breakfast. It was refreshing and helped us stay awake.
Shortly after, a few of us stepped
outside again to see if we could arrange some private transport to the base
camp instead of waiting for the first local bus at 7 AM. The streets were
quiet, the sky was getting lighter, but the town was still asleep. We flagged a
few vehicles, but most drivers were headed elsewhere.
One driver finally stopped. We told him
we were a group of 11 and needed either 2 SUVs or 3 small cars,
considering all our luggage. He said he’d try to help, made a few calls to his
friends, but initially came up short. We exchanged numbers in case he could
arrange something.
A few minutes later, my phone rang—he’d
managed to arrange three small cars, and they were waiting just
outside. We quickly gathered our bags, stepped outside, and got into the cars.
And with that, our final
stretch toward base camp at Seobagh had begun.
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