In October 2023, a group of ten adventurers, including myself, embarked on a challenging expedition to Friendship Peak. The peak, standing tall at 5,289 meters (17,349 feet) in the Pir Panjal range of the Himalayas, promised an unforgettable journey. Little did we know, this adventure would test not only our physical endurance but also our mental resilience.
Beginning the Journey
Our journey started from Shimla, and the excitement was evident. We drove through picturesque valleys, reaching Manali before proceeding to Dhundi Village, our starting point. For me, this trek was special. It was my first experience in the Himalayas, a place often described as the abode of divine energy. The thought of standing amidst such grandeur filled me with anticipation.
At Dhundi Village, Gitu Bhai, our beloved chef, prepared a simple but hearty breakfast of bread, butter, and tea. The chill in the air, coupled with a light drizzle, added to the adventure. After breakfast, we took a group photograph, our faces beaming with excitement. Though most of us were strangers, small conversations began to build the foundation of our friendships. After all, we were on the Friendship Peak trek.
Leading the Path
To my surprise, the trek organizer handed me a walkie-talkie and entrusted me with leading the group. This gesture boosted my confidence. Our path ran parallel to the roaring Beas River, with the majestic Hanuman Tibba (5,982 meters) and the Seven Sisters peaks watching over us. The sound of the river accompanied us like a constant guide.
Bits Bhai, an experienced trekker who had completed his Basic Mountaineering Course (BMC) in this very region, explained the surrounding landscapes. From the Pir Panjal range to the ancient Beas Kund, his stories made the mountains come alive.
When Things Went Wrong
As we ventured forward, nature showed us its unpredictability. After our first halt, we faced a major decision. Four of our teammates chose the longer but safer Beas Kund trail, a route that crossed the river before ascending. Meanwhile, five of us, including myself, decided to take what we believed was a shortcut. Unlike the marked path, our route was an uncharted, steep incline that promised a quicker ascent but came with significant risks.
Initially, the shortcut seemed promising, but soon we realized the challenge. Loose rocks, sharp gradients, and slippery patches made every step arduous. The roar of the Beas River below echoed as a reminder of the perilous path we had chosen. Without a proper trail, we had to carve our way up, clutching onto rocks and shrubs for support.
While we climbed, doubts crept into my mind. The fear of losing balance or slipping haunted me. But we pressed on, encouraging each other. Hours passed before we saw the top nearing, and the sense of accomplishment filled our hearts. However, exhaustion loomed large, and the absence of food added to our struggle.
We later learned that the other group had reached the campsite safely via the longer route. Though their trek was longer, it was far less treacherous compared to ours. Reflecting on that choice, I realized that sometimes the longer path is indeed the wiser one.
The Struggle at Lady Leg
By late afternoon, we reached Lady Leg at an altitude of 4,800 meters. This vast snowfield, named for its distinctive shape, was to be our campsite. But a new challenge awaited. Hunger gnawed at us, as most of our food was with the other group. I felt the weight of the situation. Yet, a flicker of hope emerged.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a small packet of roasted chickpeas. As a food lover, I had instinctively carried this snack. Without hesitation, we devoured the chickpeas, savoring every bite. It was a moment of silent gratitude for the small things that kept us going.
The fog grew denser, and visibility plummeted. Then, as if nature wished to test us further, a storm swept through. Darkness descended by 6 p.m., making it nearly impossible to see beyond a few meters.
Amid the gloom, a faint voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. It was Gitu Bhai.
“Hello, hello! Where are you all?”
Joy erupted among us. We shouted back, guiding them toward our tents. Moments later, their silhouettes emerged from the mist. That night, under a star-studded sky, we relished a meal of steaming rajma chawal, the taste intensified by our exhaustion and relief.
The Storm and the Wait
But the mountains were not done with us. The next day, relentless snow battered our campsite. Winds roared through the night, and temperatures plummeted. Some of our teammates began to show signs of altitude sickness, their breaths shallow and labored.
We huddled in our tents, our spirits dimmed by uncertainty. The second day brought no respite. The snow continued, trapping us in the icy embrace of Lady Leg. Stories and laughter echoed within our tent walls, a fragile attempt to defy the cold.
The Final Push
On the third night, the storm relented. At 3 a.m., we set off for the summit. The biting cold nipped at our faces as we trudged through the snow. Every step required immense effort. The air was thin, and our breaths came in ragged gasps.
At one point, our guide roped us together. The risk of falling into a crevasse — deep, icy cracks hidden beneath the snow — was dangerously high. Trusting our guide’s experience, we moved forward.
Just 200 meters from the summit, my guide called me aside. Without an ice axe to ensure my safety on the steep slope, I was deemed unfit to proceed. Disappointment hit me hard. Though my health was fine, the mountains demanded respect.
I sat on the icy slope, watching my teammates ascend. Tears welled in my eyes, but I knew this decision was necessary. As I waited, time stretched endlessly. My body grew colder, and my thoughts wandered. Memories of my family filled my mind. The vast emptiness around me magnified every emotion.
The Descent and Reflection
After what felt like an eternity, I decided to descend alone. My guide’s instructions echoed in my mind, and I retraced my steps with care. The snow crunched beneath my boots, and the wind whispered stories of countless adventurers before me.
Back at Lady Leg, the sun greeted me warmly. My teammates soon followed, their faces glowing with the triumph of reaching the summit. Despite not standing at the peak, I celebrated their achievement as my own.
Trek Details
- Altitude: 5,289 meters (17,349 feet)
- Best Time to Visit: May to June and September to October
- Duration: 6-8 days
- Difficulty Level: Challenging
- Base Camp: Dhundi Village, near Manali
- Highlights: Panoramic views of Hanuman Tibba, Pir Panjal range, and Beas Kund
- Essential Gear: Ice axe, crampons, layered clothing, and sturdy trekking shoes
A Triumph of the Spirit
The Himalayas had given me more than I could have asked for. They taught me resilience, patience, and acceptance. Fear had gripped me, but courage had carried me through. I had faced the unpredictable embrace of nature and emerged stronger.
As I stood one last time at Lady Leg, gazing at the towering peaks, I made a silent promise.
One day, I will return.
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