Shipton's Lost Valley

by Martin Moran

Part 10: Kali's Wrath

Deserted and peaceful, Mandani might have been the most exquisite spot on earth that next morning. Grassy moraine shelves led up from a tiny stone temple to long glacier slopes and then the shapely twin summits of the 6193m Mandani Parbat. Nobody is going to make a big name for themselves climbing in such remote places, yet this is how Himalayan climbing once was and can still be for those who shun the glory-seeking.

We brightened considerably to discover a note from John Shipton at the temple door. The others had passed this way just the previous day. Then, as a gift to the temple I offered the trusty kukri, carried so far by Sobat but never used in anger. Perhaps, I thought, the shepherds would make good use of it when they came up in the summer. What I didnt realise was that this temple was dedicated to the avenging goddess Kali. Who knows what curses the goddess might bring down on our team for such an impudent offering.

An hour after leaving Mandani all traces of a path had disappeared and we became enmeshed in jungle so thick that we wished we still had the accursed knife. Dwarf oaks, trailing brambles and giant juniper provided new challenges to our bush skills. Traversing along the supposed line of the path only took up across an endless succession of steep nalas. The only escape was to go straight up and out of the forest. Once more we became committed to a 900m climb up endless grass slopes to the Simtoli Dhar ridge. When we gained a snowy crest at 4300m we saw a yet higher ridge beyond, and within minutes a storm descended and a lighting bolt struck the ridge just meters above us. We huddled on a rock ledge to await its passing. Kali must indeed have been angry.