Gulmarg
Today we got an early start and were on top the mountain before 10 am. The group split up because people had different agendas.
Alan, Sam, and James decided to just make gondola runs while Matt, Wes, Amet and I took to the backside. A bit of new snow has fallen over the last couple days and actually has covered some of the smaller rocks dotting the main ridge. We soon came along a 700 vertical foot untouched run. I stayed on top to take pictures while the three skiers dropped. Matt went first, and laid down a sweet line, staying high on the ridge and carving around large rocks. Amet dropped lower and made a quicker decent. Wes, split the difference and just jumped over the rocks.
Then I hiked over and dropped in. This was the first run that made me glad I bought this board. It wasn’t perfect powder by any means. There was some serious crust underneath three to eight inches of powder, but it was all soft and uniform snow. By board is a directional board and much longer than what I am used to. My stance is far back on the board and is perfect for long, powerful carves down steep and deep snow. The thing rides more like a surfboard, with a lot of back foot control.
Six turns later, and I’m at the bottom looking back up at the steep ridge we now have to climb up. It’s called “boot packing”. I strap my snowboard to my backpack and get out my ski poles to help with the hike up. The slope is between 30-40 degrees and mostly bare ground with patches of crusty, sun-backed snow. This is hard work. Hard work doesn’t describe it. This is insane. I have to stop every few minutes to catch my breath and admire the immense mountain range rising up behind us. My backpack and snowboard weigh close to 30 lbs and is awkwardly top-heavy. A couple of times I stood up too tall and about lost my balance. That could easily turn into a deadly mistake, as it is nearly impossible to stop your momentum if you were to start falling. I try not to think about it.
We get to the top and it’s early afternoon. Matt takes us farther down the main ridge to some bowls that supposedly drop us off at a different village where we can rent a car to get back to Gulmarg. Apparently He’s done this run before and has been told that you can ski all the way down to Grang, where we could hire a taxi.
At first we drop into an incredible powder bowl. By far the best snow we have seen yet. It’s fresh powder about 18 inches thick. My board just floats effortlessly on top and takes on a mind of its own as it guides me through long, hand-dragging turns. Pure bliss. This is what I came here for.
The snow is very loose and sloughs quite easily. Slough is a type of avalanche that starts as the loose snow you release and accelerates down the mountain usually picking up more and more snow. It isn’t as dangerous as a full on slab avalanche and most likely will not bury you, but it can knock you over and make you loose your footing, which could be devastating if you are perched above a cliff or rocks. So we took our time, dropping one by one and always ending up in safe zones.
For some reason I started to feel tense and felt that something ominous was about to happen. I could see it in Matt and Wes. They started to act serious and Matt was getting on edge to any questions I would ask. The snow pack was quickly deteriorating and was forcing us off the ridges and into the middle of the drainage for the valley; somewhere you don’t want to be if an avalanche were to happen anywhere in the whole valley because it would get funneled and concentrated right down upon us. The snow was very chunky and hard packed with an increasing amount of rocks poking through as we decreased elevation. The valley also narrowed and soon it was only a few yards wide. There were no more options.
The first cliff I came to was not very big, maybe four feet tall, but right below it was about a fifteen-foot drop onto rocks and ice. I jumped off the first and immediately had to stop. I fell back on my wrist and was certain I had broken it, but adrenaline was pumping so I didn’t notice the pain. From here I slowly traversed using my hands along a super narrow rock ledge, trying not to look behind me. It wouldn’t be a deadly drop, but I could easily break bones and we were a long way from any kind of civilization. I make it to a tiny chute with a bunch of bushes sticking through. I do a jump turn and slide down the chute. Matt has gone ahead and I see he has stopped above what looks like another cliff. He turns back and yells, “This looks sketchy!” There are no options except to continue down. Steep cliffs rise on either side of us. I get closer and see a six-foot drop to a patch of snow/ice about the size of a large mattress, sitting above a fifteen-foot drop. The landing is actually slopped back towards the cliff as the underside has started to melt out some distance below the surface.
Matt has sidestepped up higher to a super narrow, near vertical chute littered with rocks and sticks. He is able to make it down. He said it would not be possible to do on a snowboard. Wes has decided to jump down the cliff sections. It’s called an acid drop and is basically extending one leg sideways over the cliff then jumping down and hopefully stopping where you land. He somehow makes it down unscathed. Amet has taken his skis off above me and traversed over to the side and is trying to climb down. This is no longer fun. A brisk wind carrying snow has all of a sudden decided to blow straight down the ravine. Is it a malicious wind mocking me; making me jealous at it’s ease to descend the danger below? Or, is it a helping wind; encouraging me to make it down this?
I need to make a move.
I am used to taking my board off and strapping it to my pack on relatively flat ground. Now, here I am perched on a steep, hard slope above a 25-foot drop of rock and ice, and I have to take off my pack, turn it over, take off my board, dig a toe-hold in the snow, strap my board to my pack, take out my ski poles and extend them, put my awkward pack back on, and start to follow Amet’s path and climb down. He has only made it maybe five feet down and things look pretty difficult. A thin snow layer is clinging to the near vertical slope; beneath it small, smooth rocks and grass- nothing incredibly encouraging to get a grip on. Snowboard boots are notoriously difficult to kick into snow and get a footing. Mine are no exception. My heart is racing as I turn towards the hill and try my hardest in that instant to make my world smaller, focusing on only what is near my hands and feet.
This is impossible. I am stuck. Any slip and I would quickly be bouncing down over rocks, probably flipping end-over-end, and possibly landing on the flat ground in a way to seriously hurt me or worse.
I decide that Amet’s way is not possible as his toeholds have been ripped out due to my much larger boot. I climb back up to the middle of the ravine above the icefall and can’t help but notice (due to immediate relief) my newfound confidence of standing on such a degree of slope that would have scarred me earlier that day.
I don’t know what to do. I am running through different scenarios, part of me just wants to throw by board down and jump over, just to get done with the inevitable. Maybe I won’t get too hurt. Then I realize it is a very long way to any form of civilization from here and I can’t afford to add an injured person to the group. We would have to spend the night somewhere. Or maybe a helicopter would come and rescue me. Hah! Yeah right.
I need to climb.
Literally holding onto grass poking through the ice, and using all my strength to shift my weight from one limb to another as I cling on to the tinniest of things, I slowly start to descend. Amet has made it down and tells me to move only one thing at a time. Digging a toehold gives me very little confidence because I don’t know if it will hold my entire weight until I completely step on it. I tried to pull back and keep calm and started to guide myself down. Right foot first- extend over and kick. Dig your toe in; give it a little weight to see if it’ll hold. Move your right hand, grab that bit of grass hanging down right there. Now move your left hand to where your right had was, dig your arm into that ice hole. Ok, now move your left foot to where your right just was.
A couple of times my footing broke loose and I somehow managed to catch myself, feet dangling in the air.
Half the way down I reminded myself that I needed to laugh. This is India; you must laugh when you are stuck in situations that are seemingly out of your control. It is a nervous laugh, and I notice a couple of tears roll out as I release a bit of emotion. If I die now, it’s better that I’m at least laughing than cursing.
After what seemed like an hour, my feet touch the flat bottom. I am so relieved. I am not hurt. A quick thanks to God.
But we are not out of trouble yet. There is now very difficult traversing along a steep, patchy rock pile directly above a running river. The snow is incredibly deep and sticky due to the warm temperatures. I am exhausted. My calves are on fire and I cannot catch my breath. Wes skis behind me to make sure nothing happens.
We eventually run out of snow. Now time to bootpack once again. We follow some footsteps made from some other unlucky group who had been in our same situation. We need to cross the river. 50-foot cliffs line the river in some places and the water is moving pretty good. We walk up and down and across for about an hour. We come to a place where that is pretty flat and covered in soft snow that gives way to holes below. It looks too flat to snowboard. Time to ski. Split my board in half, attach my bindings to the telemark pins on either plank, and strap in. this might be the hardest part of the day. After a little while the slope steepens and I am able to switch back to the snowboard. Now this is fun again. We ride along for some time in a single file line and eventually come across an army base. We get questioned lightly at the army base and they let us though. We ask them how far to Tangmarg (place to get a taxi), and they say about an hour.
We could walk all night and I wouldn’t care as much. We were on flat ground and there was no immediate danger of falling. The walk was actually very nice, taking us down the river valley with great views back up at the mountain we had just scampered down. We entered thick forest for a little while, and it was hard to imagine this was India and not somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. A couple of hours pass and we are nowhere near Tangmarg. We are now completely exhausted from walking and hiking, the sun has set and it is getting dark. Quickly.
I think I hear a car, but it cannot be. There is nothing near us. I hear it again- closer. Then around the next turn comes a little minivan. Matt moves to the side of the road but I stop right in the middle with my arms out. There is no way this car will leave without giving us a ride where we need. Everyone has a price. The good news for being a foreigner is that this price is relatively cheap. I ask the guys if they’ll give us a ride for 400 rupees (about $10). They agreed. All four of us pile into this little automobile. We were soon relieved as it was still over a mile to the town of Tangmarg. It is now pitch black. We find another taxi to take us up to Gulmarg and to the relief of Sam and Alan, arrive back at the hotel around 7pm. People were getting worried for us and were even thinking about heading a search party for the morning. There is literally nothing you can do on such a large mountain without daylight. We agree upon some safety considerations such as first aid, and search/rescue plans for possible situations.
Today was an experience all right, and a bit sobering too. Looking back we learned a few things and gained a greater respect for this mountain and how quickly it can swallow you if you don’t respect its danger. Last year a girl came to our same hotel and went up for a quick ride very close to our hotel. Her body was found the next spring.
I think I’ll take tomorrow off from snowboarding and explore the town. Snow is on the way.
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