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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