Last flight out of Ladakh: Chapter 5 - Day 2

Last flight out of Ladakh: Chapter 5 - Day 2

By the second day of the trek the group had acclimatized quite well, in spite of the subzero temperatures and harsh winds. No one complained of sickness, loose stomach or even a case of cold. All of them came down for the morning drill and they all seemed more joyous on that day’s walk – an eighteen kilometers uphill path in the frozen river valley, along the half frozen Zanskar river from Matho Doksa to Tilat Sumdo. At some places the river was completely frozen giving a full ‘Chadar’ or ice sheet to walk on, or at some places it was just frozen at the edges and trekkers had to cross carefully. Sometimes there was no ice at all, that’s when the trekkers had to climb up the mountain slope and come down when they found a stronger Chadar again to walk on. The amazingly created vistas changed at every turn and corner, and the color of ice at their feet changed from white to pale blue to turquoise to sky green. The photography enthusiasts were having the time of their life and the rest of the group happily obliged and posed along the spectacular terrain. Starting at eight o’clock in the morning after a hearty breakfast, they stopped for lunch halfway near a sunny side in the valley, where calm waters and a lot of playing space abounded. It was there the incident the unfortunate incident with Prathap occurred. But he survived, and was joyously welcomed back.

They first saw the German on the second day of their trek. Dressed in bright green color jacket with a brown mountain cap, he was immediately labelled as ‘Tota’, the one dressed as a parrot. That day while the group was setting their camp at Tilat Sumdo, he passed them with his group of porters and guides, totaling around ten to twelve, which seemed a lot to everyone in the group as they had that much for a group of fifteen. That night he set his camp a little further than them, but the next day his camp was quite closer to theirs and that’s how some of them finally interacted with him.

Somewhere in his eighties and with a mountaineering experience boasting several Himalayan peaks in Nepal, Alpine peaks and the great mountains of Kazakhstan, to the group he seemed like a quite satisfied person having a nice easy time on this one. He told them that this was his seventh trip to Ladakh, the first one being in 1970s, and that things had changed quite a lot since then. He was affluent, with custom gear and expensive North Face tents, all pointing to his healthy mountaineering years. Some people in the group made jokes about him being a ‘Nazi supporter’, while some revered him like a saint.

It all changed that night, on the second night of the trek. As usual everyone in the group had taken an early dinner by around seven-thirty, and while some played dumb charades or just told each other old time stories, it all quieted down by around ten o’ clock. Vikas was woken by a gurgling sound in his stomach, twice. Had it been close to the dawn then he would have tried to hold on, but the clock only read one AM. Even though it was twenty degrees below zero degrees Celsius outside, he told his almost asleep tent-mate Vinay and went outside. And that was the last anyone saw of him. Also the German guy and his troop was nowhere to be seen the next morning. He and his porters had packed and left before sunrise. It was Stalin who spotted him a day later, he was climbing a high mountain pass with his porters and guides. Viewed through a telephoto zoom lens his parrot green jacket was impossible to miss. His straying from the trek path seemed odd to everyone in the group, but what really worried them was the two fresh burial mounds that they came across. These belonged to him, and clearly these were not token mounds made in memory of those lost to the icy cold water. Their bodies were very much buried there as well. In those parts accidents were rare, happening only because of nature’s fury.

Little did the group know that they were being watched by the German guy in return as well. He knew that they posed little danger, but being outnumbered by them he knew that if he wanted his mission to be successful, he should not draw any unnecessary attention. Be there, act, mix, but not reveal anything for substantial value. A lot was at stake – years of planning, research and funds, losing family and friends and himself almost in the attempt, getting to the treasure was something he had made his life’s goal, and now he was so close, thanks to tip received by a monk in Hemis monastery, and old British survey maps that helped him narrow down its location. Also the greed of locals now overtook their reason, as so many were happy to join him along for his course, no questions asked.

A third pair of eyes was also watching both the groups, those of the spy. He was all alone, and on a mission. Sitting high atop than both of them, he knew of the standard trekking route that the group they were taking and that didn't interest him much. No, he was behind something else, following the German undetected and making plans as he went along. He could sense that this time the German knew where he was going and that what he was after was big, so the spy would not miss it. The memory of their last encounter was still fresh in his mind, even after close to ten years. Had it not been for that lucky shot from German’s pistol that got lodged in his right leg, this would all have been over then itself. An year back when he got to know that the German was back on the radar; it had taken him killing a lot many people to find what the German was after, and now a considerable effort to do this trek without any support, carrying his own food and essentials in this harsh terrain. But he knew this was his last chance, if the German got what he was after, this time he would disappear for good.

The village knew about all of them. Frozen as much in time as the air that inhibited it was, it had been more than thirty years since anybody human had set foot in it, but this time a lot of people were coming. It needed to prepare itself, for its survival – the raiders would be after the treasure, of which there were many. They would be knowing about the treasure, which would lead them to the caves. And when they get to it they would find the creatures. Or the creatures might find them. The village wondered what the world might have become in all those years, should it be welcomed after such a long time, or should the creatures be sent in advance to welcome the raiders and keep itself a secret once again. About that, the village was yet to decide.