As cheesy as it
might sound, a close brush with death is all it takes to get a good look at
yourself. While calling it a near-death
experience would be an exaggeration, moonlight trekking and rock climbing at
Kabbaladurga was definitely a close shave.
Armed with just a
couple of energy drinks, water, and torch lights, Ice and I were a picture of
calm on the way to this beautiful hill. There were 12 others in the van, who didn't know each other and were a part of this night-trek organised by the
Bangalore Mountaineering Club. Listening
to awful music and animatedly discussing ‘Game of Thrones’, we had no idea what
we were getting into, until five minutes into the trek.
The night had set
in and we could barely see anything beyond what the torch lights offered
meekly. The two BMC volunteers warned us to keep our voices low, so as to not
attract local wildlife. While my eyeballs popped out at the casual mention of
cheetahs, Ice had already started hyper-ventilating.
The initial
stretch was easy - Just a few rocks, plain land, and some water bodies to jump
across. In exactly five minutes, as the foliage ended and the pitch-dark sky
was visible again, we got our first glimpse of this massive monolith we were
about to conquer.
The sheer rock
face was intimidating but we trudged along. One after the other, like ants,
literally and figuratively. For the next twenty minutes, we scaled solid rocks,
holding on to whatever we could, to maintain grip. After we climbed over the
last ledge, we could, for the first time, see the dangerously steep and smooth
terrain we had to cross to get to the top of the mountain.
There were tiny
steps carved into the rock at some places. Slowly balancing the sleeping bag and
the backpack, and also carrying the torch light, we made our way up. At some
places, there were only rusty railings that we could hold on to. At other
places, there were no railings or steps, and we just had to be sure-footed. By
this time, most of us had lost the confidence we started out with. The
intensity had taken its toll on us. One girl just sat down after scaling the
insanely dangerous railings stretch, and refused to go ahead. Ice started talking, even more than usual, and
I could sense that she was panicking. I was quiet. Just eerily quiet and kept
staring straight ahead stonily. At this point, I remember thinking that if I ever
did get back home alive and safe, I would live my life like I never have. No compromises,
no settling down until I felt like, and no more crappy jobs.
As luck would
have it, as I was getting up from a quick five-minute break, a part of my sole
just ripped itself off the shoe. With another 30 minutes of rock climbing left,
I sent a quick prayer upward, and desperately hoped that the sole wouldn't come
out completely. Finally, after some more huffing and puffing, Ice and I were
among the first ones to reach the top. It took me about a minute to realize that
I had done it.
Spreading out our
sleeping bags and feeling elated, all of us stared into the sky, hoping that
the stars would lull us into a few hours of well-deserved sleep. Again, little
did we know, cosied up in our sleeping bags, that the climb down would prove to
be ten times more dangerous.
At 5.30 AM we
started trekking downhill. My soles were completely worn out, and I just hoped
that I wouldn't slip. Because, we climbed during the night, the abruptness of
the incline did not matter too much. But, while descending, all of us could
clearly see how a single slip could prove to be a fatal mistake. At
particularly steep rock faces, we even bum-shuffled like babies to avoid
tumbling down.
If climbing up
that railings stretch was difficult, the descent was possibly even more treacherous.
At places where were there were no railings, a single wrong step could have
resulted in a sickening Varsha shower of brains, bones, and blood, across the
peaceful Kabbala town. We were literally scaling the side of a mountain that
barely had any solid footing, and exactly there, Ice started screaming . She
had sat down by mistake and she could feel herself slipping slowly. While I put
my hand out to hold hers, I knew I couldn't do much, because I didn't have a
proper footing and being feather-weight is not exactly great help.
Finally, after
screaming for a while, a fellow trekker rescued Ice valiantly, while she
blushed bright red. Both of us had hung on
to our lives by a thread and had come out perfectly safe. The fifteen minutes of
trek after that was something I don’t remember, because I was just so glad that
I was nearing the bottom of the hill. The
sight of Ice, with her torn T-shirt, scurrying ahead, like a kitten happy after
being rescued, was also very strangely comforting.
Only after the
van, which took us back to the safety of Bangalore, started moving, did I realize
I had bruises all over. My knees were swollen, my hands were sore, I couldn't feel my shoulders, and I looked like I could pass out any minute.
Then, with our
bruises, worn-out soles, and torn T-shirts, we grinned widely to each other and
said ‘We are totally doing this again next month’.
