Shipton's Lost Valley

by Martin Moran

Part 9: Breaking Out

From Pt 2685 Shipton and Tilman had fought their way downvalley for five more days, eventually reaching Kalimath, which is some 20km south of Kedarnath. However, our aim was to make a direct link between the two temples, but to do so we should have to break out of the gorge and make some hefty climbs across a series of three 4500m ridges. A thunderstrom broke early next morning just as we were abseiling down to the river. We crossed the bridge with a rope handrail for safety, then ploughed up into dense dripping undergrowth. Thick stands of bamboo now made their appearance, but the canes were dry and old and were easily brushed aside. The main growing season of new shoots awaited the monsoon.

Our patience with the jungle was quickly exhausted and we struck directly uphill on a relentless climb of 50 or even 55 degrees. Fortunately the rain petered out and a watery sun appeared to dry the slopes. Otherwise we should have had a dangerously greasy climb on mud and ground litter. Even so the exposure was such that we would have tumbled many hundreds of feet had we slipped on open ground. We thus came to see the occasional stands of gnarled rhododendron as pillars of security. Higher up we re-entered bamboo forest and the pitiless climb continued through the early afternoon, our minds relieved only by the constant birdsong from the tree tops. When we finally emerged from the forest at 3600m, the ground was everywhere too sloping to provide a good campsite. A heavy storm began just as we were clearing a level patch and soon we were cooped up in the tent again like five chickens in a roost while the rain lashed down.

The fine weather now deserted us and the next storm arrived early the following afternoon just as we were traversing long snow slopes towards a gap in the Dobra Khal Dhar ridge. The grueling physical effort, biting shoulder straps, and dwindling energy stores were growing at our confidence and patience. Having thought ourselves home and dry once beyond Pt 2685, we were now seeing each new hill as a mountain. The Mandani valley lay over the ridge, and with a trail and a temple marked on the map, we were certain we would meet someone there; maybe there would even be a tea shop!

We crossed the ridge at 4400m in a blizzard but the sun reappeared as we descended a grade 1 gully on the far side. We rushed down open snowfields and across carpets of yellow globe flowers, infused by the rich evening light and the prospect of a path. Then simultaneously as the sun slipped behind our next ridge, we hit steep slopes of rhododendron. Scanning the shadowed Mandani Valley we could decipher stone buildings, but there were no signs either of smoke, light or animals. Our hearts sank. They we saw traces of a path traversing 80m above us. With the last vestiges of will, we climbed back up to it but we didnt have the strength to keep with it and camped up on a shelf 300m above the valley floor.

Morale was at a low that night. Kedarnath was still two ridges away. Sobat had long since despaired of our definition fog a high mountain trek. Each day our diet shrank whilst our consumption of body fats increased. I even considered dumping all our technical climbing gear at Mandani to reduce our loads. No sooner were we fed than we slumped into an exhausted sleep.