Ladakh's Markha Valley: Arduous, but unequivocally gratifying paradise

As we settle into our tents, there is a hailstorm followed by pelting rain. Ladakh is becoming less desert like

Ladakh possesses enduring mystique as a thriving centre of Tibetan culture but it also has a long history as a trading zone lying astride the caravan routes, which linked India with Central Asia, China and Tibet. If the architecture of its numerous and famous monasteries is unmistakably Tibetan, the frescoes and the wall paintings inside display the more subdued Kashmiri style and idiom, and many of the sacred bronze images, imported from Nepal, reflect  its more exuberant Newari art.
 
I was in Leh last month preparing for a brief trek in the valley of Markha, a tributary of the better known Zanskar river. The enforced stay in Leh in order to acclimatise to the high altitude provided a welcome opportunity to revisit some of its celebrated monasteries like Thiksey and Hemis. These exquisite medieval structures testify to the wealth generated by Ladakh’s history at the cross-roads of Asia and the richness of the art forms, from far and wide, that this wealth could command.
 
Ladakh is no longer a remote outpost in an India whose connections with its Central Asian neighbourhood remain interrupted. There are signs of prosperity everywhere as its forbidding landscape becomes a magnet for tourists from India and abroad. Leh has become a vast urban sprawl and there are guest houses and hotels springing up in every available nook and cranny. There is a variety of adventures on offer, but there is an inevitable price to be paid for this frenetic growth and intrusion into the hitherto pristine and fragile ecology of India’s only cold desert. Fortunately, there are areas where nature is still holding its own. My five-day trek, tracing the Markha river upstream, is a redeeming experience. It helps to have an unusually congenial group to share the road with and being compli-mented repeatedly about facing the rigours of an arduous walk in the mountains as the sole senior citizen around.
 

An ancient wall painting in Kashmiri style at Shey Palace in Leh

On the first day, our party of trekkers drives from Leh to Chilling, along the banks of the Indus and then crosses over into the Zanskar Valley. The rivers cut through a sombre landscape of beige and brown interspersed with sparse green patches. We pass several crumbling chortens or burial mounds and in the distance are smaller monasteries perched precariously on thin mountain ledges.  There used to be a bridge at Chilling to the other side of the river from where we would begin our trek. A flood a few years ago washed away the bridge and now both travellers and supplies must be wheeled precariously in a metal box pulled across the river. Only two persons fit into the box so it takes a lot of time for us and our trekking gear and camping material to get across. An adventurous start nevertheless!
 

The author at a chorten near Markha

This first day is a short trek of only a couple of hours. We come to the confluence of the Zanskar and the Markha rivers soon after making our crossing and then begins a gentle incline as we head upstream into the Markha Valley. For the next few days, until we cross the 5,130-metre-high Kongmaru Pass, we shall follow a route hugging the banks of this river camping, successively, at Skiu, Markha, Thachungtse and Nimaling. After crossing the Pass, we will camp at Chuskirmo before a short trek to the village of Shang Sumdo, from where we will drive back to Leh.
 
Even though the high mountains are devoid of any vegetation, there are patches of bright green as we head up the valley. There are hamlets surrounded by fields of barley rimmed by clusters of poplar trees. Occasionally, one can see meadows in the folds of the mountains where yak and sheep graze peacefully.  There are, at regular intervals, tea-stalls under a “parachute” tent that are ubiquitous all over Ladakh, providing shelter from strong sun and occasional showers. They are apparently rejects from the Indian armed forces for which a trademark use has been found by enterprising villagers along trekking routes. A good example of Ladakhi jugaad.
 

Prayer flags at Kongmaru Pass

Over the next three days we camp at picturesque sites next to the river with the forbidding and stark mountainscape for company. These mountains come in strange shapes sculpted by wind and snow over the millennia.
 
There are several river crossings but there are log bridges at most places. The river becomes more swift and the water clean and transparent as we head upstream. But we encounter rain which one thought was unlikely in this rain shadow area. 
 
The only really cold night is at Nimaling, a high-altitude meadow dominated by the snow-covered peaks of the Stok range. When the rain stops and the skies become clear, we are treated to a night sky ablaze with densely packed and brightly glittering stars. A truly awe-inspiring experience.
 

A lama at the Hemis Monastery

The trek from Nimaling across the Kongmaru Pass is difficult, involving a steep climb of nearly 400 metres. The slopes are covered with dense scrub and are home to both the smaller mountain rats and the larger and more woolly marmots. Disappointing is the absence of blue sheep or other mountain species that this region is well-known for. This is where the elusive snow leopards dwell but we have no sightings.
 
The Pass takes us into the adjacent Shang Valley. The views from the top of the Pass, festooned with colourful prayer flags, are breathtaking, a panorama of snow-covered mountains, lower hills of brown and green and a narrow gorge at the end of a really steep, almost vertical, descent. The gorge itself is unusual with sedimentary rocks that are various shades of green like malachite but no one is able to identify them. We camp at Chuskirmo on a flat ridge above a mountain stream. As we settle into our tents, there is a hailstorm followed by pelting rain. Climate change with a vengeance?  Ladakh is becoming less desert like.
 
The Markha Valley is a relatively easy trek with no steep ascents and the trail is dotted with well provisioned tea-stalls under the quaint parachute tents. The scenery is spectacular and still pristine, but may see early degradation with more crowded trails. Better to go now while nature can still speak in whispers to you.

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Shyam Saran is a former foreign secretary and an avid trekker