Spiti Adventres in Trans Himalaya

SPITI. Adventures in the Trans-Himalaya. By Harish Kapadia. Pp. 216, 47 colour plates, 65 b/w photos, 10 maps, 1996. (Indus Publishing Co., New Delhi, Rs. 1250).

The Himachal province of Spiti is a rarified and elevating terrain and in my opinion even more dream-like than the multi- hued void of Ladakh. Perhaps because of its aloof status Spiti has never had justice done to its mesmerising rockscape and to most travellers it represents but an exotic postscript to Lahaul. Now that inner line restrictions have been eased it is important that visitors should have access to an intelligent and up-to-date guide. Harish Kapadia’s collection of travels through and around Spiti fits the bill exactly. This is an outstanding introduction to a challenging and beautiful area, comprehensive by virtue of the author’s familiarity with the routes and authentic by his ranging concern to include all useful sources of information. The production is outstanding, the lay out could hardly be better and the photographs have reproduced well. Only the initial antique maps let down the superb quality of this invaluable source-book for Spiti. From jacket illustration to index this is a book to rave over – certainly for a Scot reviewer who is saved the painful outlay for this must-have acquisition. It is rewarding for any author to find that his books evolve from self-conscious technical treatises (valued rather than read) to winged harbingers of recounted delights. Compared to Kapadia’s earlier works on the Sahyadri and Hidden Himalaya this mustering of Spiti memories is more laid back and lyrical and the literary touches come through as real. When I first saw the upper valley of the Spiti (any way my brand new Olympia jammed from the cold) I was reconciled to the frustrations of Coleridge. I really did believe this was a dream and the jamming of the camera a perfectly legitimate psychic occurrence. Wliatis especially noticeable to readers accustomed to expect gaps in the narrative where did journeys are strung together is that Harish has gone to great pains to maintain an uninterrupted flow. There are 16 chapters covering a fairly exhaustive breakdown of the trekking possibilities mixed with illuminating insights and humourous anecdotes from his own travels. The only well-known fact about the area that he appears to have omitted is that another village has usurped the place of Khibber as the highest settlement in Asia. This successor village incidentally was the scene of an international academic row when a Chandigarh professor faked some fossil finds to boost his fame. The other infamy (duly recorded) is the murder of German escapee P.O.W. apparently for his gold at Tabo. Those who consider this a freak incident in the Trans-Himalaya overlook the narrative of Heinrich Harrer who several times felt he was being tailed by murderous Khampas during his epic to Lhasa with Peter Aufschaniter. (Schemaderer made the fatal mistake of allowing his companion Paidar to continue to Puh.) There was safety in numbers. And to prove it the geniality of Kapadia as expedition leader is brought out by the fact that his companions never contemplated throwing him to the wolves. Wildlife addicts may feel shortchanged that amidst all the miscellaneous appendices so little space has been given to the fauna. (Possibly Harish suffered my nightmare of being chased by man-eating sheep dogs which would justify exclusion of beasts of the field!)

Jimmy Roberts (or maybe ‘Chabi Roberts’ in view of the several keys to different ranges his enterprise has unlocked) has given another angle on the best known myth about Spiti – the height of Shilla – in his robust foreword. He’s probably right too about the hazards awaiting ancient limbs that risk their retirement pension by climbing on to the roof of the daily bus from Kullu to Kaja. But what a magnificent section of the Great Range you cut through. That circle from Kullu past Kaja down the loops of the Satluj; from the alpine greenery of the southern face, climbing past the Rohtang jot to fall into mighty troughs that cleave the crest-line twice and then delivers the astonished visitor back into alpine orchards at Puh must surely be the best introduction to the treasure house of the snows anywhere in the Himalaya. Harish chose the harder part by trekking across the Pin Parvati, the sort of challenge that makes mountain travel memorable without the serious grief that can attend the ambition to attain altitude. Frankly I find his photo of the dak bungalow at Pulga much more aesthetic than the shot of the summiter on Manirang. (In fact some would require corroboration from the President of the Himalayan Club that Divyesh is not unfurling his flag on the roof of the Kullu-Kaja bus!) Jimmy Roberts talks about the affection that these Bombay mountaineers have for Spiti and that I imagine is the ingredient that has made this guide book gel into a very readable and profitable guide. No better tribute to the memory of the big hearted Paul Nunn (to whom the book is dedicated) could be forthcoming than this well-crafted and soundly researched anthology that delves so sportingly into the Spiti mystique.

Bill Aitken

Harish Kapadia has done the once remote region of Spiti an immense service by describing its story up to the present. Spiti was well known to 19th century travellers in the Himalaya. Gerard, Moorcraft, Trebeck and Cunningham were amongst the best known explorers who wrote excellent account of Spiti, Markham and Tyacke described the shooting to be had there; and those pioneers of mountain and other photography, P. H. Egerton and Samuel Bourne, left splendid photographs of Spiti in the 1860s.

Spiti was also famous in mountaineering circles because in 1860 a khalasi, or survey helper, climbed Shilla to place a surveying pole on its peak. Shilla’s height was mistakenly recorded as 23,064 ft, so this climb constituted an altitude record for 47 years, until Dr. Longstaff climbed Trisul. Alas, the true height of Shilla, as was ascertained in the 1950s, is nearer 20,000 ft, so the romantic unnamed khalasi held no record.

Much less was written in the first half of this century. In 1939 J.O.M. Roberts was the first serious mountaineer to visit Spiti (H. J. Vol. XII, p. 129), and expedition by others followed in the 1950s. Then the region was effectively closed for nearly three decades, following the 1962 Indo-Chinese war. Today all restrictions have been lifted, and anyone can visit Spiti. What was in the 1950s and before an arduous ten day trek from Manali is now only some hours in a bus. The result is that Spiti is fast becoming a major trekking and tourist area because of its easy access.

Kapadia’s book is a fine blend of history and description of present day Spiti. He has travelled and climbed extensively throughout the area, so he brings a fresh first-hand knowledge to his writing. There are many photographs which capture the aura of Spiti well. (It is particularly interesting to compare his photographs of Ki monastery with those taken by Egerton in the 1860s. The monastery has clearly seen considerable changes in fortune.)

All in all this is an excellent book which can be recommended as a thoroughly good read. Now that Spiti has opened up to all comers, this book is also timely.

Sir Peter Holmes