‘Sole’ searching at Kabbaladurga

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’.