West Sikkim - The Road Less Travelled

A travelogue on Kaluk and Barsey, West Sikkim.

New Year was round the corner and I was wondering how to make it large. Suddenly an idea sprang to my mind. How about having a trip to the far flung corners of Himalaya? I only had 3 days of vacation. So what’s better than Sikkim? It’s been long since I had a sublime view of the Kanchendzonga range. So I put my money on Kaluk. Tucked away at an altitude of 5700 ft, this elfin village boasts of a grand view of the snow peaks, probably one of the best in Sikkim.
Getting up to Kaluk was not a problem at all. After reaching NJP, I took a share jeep till Jorethang - the communication hub of south Sikkim. One can get service jeep to various lesser known destinations of Sikkim from Jorethang. So it didn’t take me long to find out a jeep for Kaluk, and after a very mild bargain, (I am never good at it!) I got myself a seat till Kaluk for a paltry Rs 60!
There are two roads which go to Kaluk. One via Reshi and another one via Soreng. I’ve heard the one through Soreng is more beautiful, but the driver chose the alternative route. My co passengers said, the road through Soreng is in pathetic condition, and unless I have insurance for my back, I must give it a miss. But as I started I found this route is no less beautiful. For the first half an hour we drove along the languid Rangeet river. Then we left Rangeet behind and started our climb uphill. The road was definitely less travelled, and as the car purred along the forested hills, leaving behind the sleepy hamlets, I realized, this is where I wanted to come.
A few more sharp bends later suddenly I saw the entire Kanchendzonga range in front of me. A bit covered in cloud, but still looking majestic as ever. Every other person in the car remained nonchalant even after watching that grand view, but I was excited. It was my first glimpse of Kanchendzonga in years. I became a bit restive to stop in a corner and take some snaps, and luckily I got my opportunity. One of the passengers had to go for a quick road side toilet, so I jumped out of the car and started clicking the snow peaks in frenzy. The driver smiled back – ‘Kaluk se to bahut accha dikhega’ and he was right.
I reached Kaluk bazaar around 2 p.m. It’s a tiny marketplace with hardly 10 shops, a couple of hotels and a small taxi stand. The first thing which caught my attention was the peace that prevailed everywhere. No one seemed to be busy there. No shouting shopkeeper, no heckling hotelier. The only activity I could spot was few kids playing badminton at a leisurely pace. I wished to join them, but was tired, so decided against it. My hotel had a rooftop restaurant at 3rd floor which provides a grand view of the mountains. So after a sumptuous meal, it was time for me to savor the grand vista of the snow peaks from there. I had nothing much to do that day, so sat there, until the setting sun, painted the majestic Kanchendzonga with its golden hue.
It was New Year eve –time for celebration. My hotel manager suggested me to walk down to the village playground to have a look at the local celebration. It was the usual affair of dancing with the tunes of popular Nepali songs. But their hospitality was amazing. They happily accepted me between them, offered ‘Chhang’ – the local beer to me and to all other tourists who had flocked there, and not before performing a bit of twists and turns with them, they let us go. I don’t know whether it was the ‘Chhang’ effect or the result of a tiring day, I had a deep slumber that night.
In spite of all the celebrations, the New Year started on a gloomy note. I wake up early hoping for a breathtaking sunrise, but to my utter disappointment I found Kaluk completely draped in cloud. The visibility was so poor; I couldn’t even see the valley in front of me, let alone the snow peaks. But that’s Himalaya for you. You never know, what’s in store for you in the next hour. I had a plan to go to Pelling, for sightseeing, but on that weather, there was no point going for that. Suddenly I thought what about going to Barsey rhododendron sanctuary? I’ve heard nothing but praise for the thick forest of Barsey. It’s almost 10,000 feet from sea level, and perhaps a change in altitude could bring some luck for me. I was alone, so asked Subrata Da (my hotel manager), if it would be safe for me to trek the 5kms forest road from Hilley to Barsey. He said I don’t need to worry about safety, in Sikkim. So in no time I had my breakfast, and went to the taxi stand. I was still looking for a companion, so asked if any of the drivers would trek with me till Barsey, one of them (later I knew his name was Bishop) agreed. He said one of his friends had never been to Barsey, so if his friend could come with us. I was more than happy with that. So in no time I teamed up with couple of strangers, and set out for Barsey!
This time I got the chance to experience the roller coaster ride till Soreng. The road was pathetic, but the scenery was magical. Just before Soreng, we met with a lovely waterfall. It was certainly a bonus. We stopped for a small tea break at Soreng, and resumed our journey towards Hilley. This route is definitely the least travelled in west Sikkim. We drove through thick dhupi forest, and with the mist around, the silhouette of the giant trees, looked absolutely surreal. The road was so secluded, even the sleepy hamlets seemed a rarity. Within an hour we reached Okhrey- the last village in this route. Okhrey is at an elevation of 8500 feet, and at that altitude, I could feel the chill in the air. I was praying for a bit of sunshine, and I may sound dramatic, suddenly the sky started to clear up. It was once again the clear blue sky of yesterday, and as the clouds disappeared, I could see the Singalila range in the distance. Its wooded slopes were completely covered with fresh snow, giving it a mesmerizing look.
Within next 15 minutes we reached Hilley. If I have to pick one word to best describe Hilley, I will go for ‘tranquil’. Set amidst spectacular settings, a forest check post, couple of staff quarters, and a SSB (Seema Suraksha Bal) chowki (due to Hilley’s proximity with Nepal border), that’s pretty much, describes Hilley. When we reached there, the Jawaans were playing volleyball. Watching at them I wished, if we could have such tensionless border all across the country! We got our permit ready at the check post, crossed the gate, and entered into the wilderness of Barsey rhododendron sanctuary. It was a thick forest of rhododendron, hemlock and bamboo, through which we trudged our way uphill. Bishop said, during April-May, when all the rhododendron trees are in full bloom, the entire forest turns into a riot of color. I tried to conjure up the scene, and I saw a canvas, full of myriad hues.
A strong wind was blowing through the forest, and on that wind the rustle of leaves sounded absolutely surreal. Numerous birds were chirping, but I could hardly spot any on the thick foliage. It was more of a walk, rather than a trek, due to the mild gradient of the route, and within an hour we reached Barsey top. The view from Barsey top was absolutely ethereal. It’s a flat top at 10000ft, with thick rhododendron forest all around, providing a tantalizingly close view of the Himalayan snow peaks. In front of me was Mt Kabru. It was so close that I felt I could whisper in his ears.

I was so awestruck by the stunning beauty of the place that I just sat on a rock, and decided to enjoy nature’s bounty in complete solitude. If ‘tranquil’ was the word for Hilley, Barsey could be best described as ‘Heavenly’! I sat there for more than an hour, inhaling the nature, and then decided to come back. There was a small trekker’s hut at Barsey top, providing basic accommodation. I wished I could spend a night over there, just to experience a magical sunrise.
When we came out of the sanctuary dusk was setting in. We had our late lunch at forest guard L N Sherpa’s house. The menu was basic, but his hospitality made it special. Hilley with all its serenity was looking surreal in the twilight and so were the snow peaks. They were not as close as they were in Barsey, but with the tinge of gold, they looked sublime. Leaving behind Hilley was not easy, but we had to. So we said good bye to Mr. Sherpa, and started our journey back towards Kaluk.

A stunning sunrise was the only thing that kept eluding me on that trip till then. But Sikkim didn’t leave my wish unfulfilled. The next morning I wake up on the wee hours to see the sunrise. It was still dark and the rolling hills and the surrounding foliage was looking at its surreal best. Slowly the sun came out and as soon as the crimson rays fell on the Kanchendzonga range, the magic begun. Slowly the snow peaks turned from pink to orange to gold and then the whole range came out in its dazzling white attire. The Kanchendzonga, Kabru, all were tantalizingly close looking ethereal against a clear blue sky. It was my last day at Sikkim. So probably it was Mother Nature’s parting gift to me.
Not before a ramble around the nooks and corners of Kaluk, I could leave the pristine hills behind me. It was rather a brief sojourn for me in the lap of Himalayas. But the best moments in life must remain short lived. Otherwise we won’t be able to appreciate them! Good bye Kaluk!

Lost in the Himalayan foothills

Just when we were planning to trudge our way uphill from Samsing to Suntaleykhola, the rain started. We were in the middle of a firmly entrenched monsoon, so frequent shower was what we expected. However the ominous dark clouds also hinted that the rain wouldn’t stop for a while. So we had to abandon the plan of walking the last 5 km track that connects Samsing with Suntaley, and wait for the rain to stop. Luckily a local jeep came to our rescue, and within 15 minutes we reached the Suntaleykhola eco resort maintained by WBFDC. Samsing snugly located on the foothills of Eastern Himalayas, is a perfect place for the nature lovers, who wants to ramble around the nooks and corners of the hilly slopes. All the attractions are within 5 to 7 kms, and the moderate gradient of the hill road also ensures, that you don’t have to gasp for your breath, frequently.
When we reached the eco resort, it looked rain soaked and silent. Nestled in the outskirts of Neora valley national park and lovingly girdled by the gurgling brook named ‘suntaleykhola’, the place looked entirely detached from the civilized world. The resort on the other side of the stream is connected by a hanging bridge that shakes every time you take a step. We toddled over the slippery mossy surface of the bridge, and entered the complex, a cluster of 10 sweet little white cottages, that looked even brighter against the sylvan settings. The rain stopped late in the afternoon, giving us very little time to explore the place. So instead of venturing into the wild, we decided to sit beside the khola, and listened to its lyrics. The sound of the limpid stream lapping gently against the pebbles, with the occasional trill of an unknown insect, created a nice symphony.
The next morning on the wee hours we started for Rocky Island. On the banks of river Murti, this elfin village offers some breathtaking views of the river and the surrounding countryside. We trudged our way uphill through the forest, up to Faribasty, the last village en route Suntaley, had our morning tea, and continued. From the top of Faribasty, we had a nice view of the entire Duars. As long as we could see, there were green paddy fields, sprawling all over the plains, interspersed only by few tiny little huts. On the distant we could just discern the thick forests of Garumara, as well. After an hour or so we reached Samsing forest rest house. Here we left the main road and entered into a roughly hewed path, which would lead us to Rocky Island. The road from Samsing forest rest house to Rocky Island is completely downhill, gradually coming down to Murti river valley. We strolled down cautiously avoiding the muddy patches and swampy potholes. En route we crossed Samsing khasmahal busty. The sleepy serene village was full of orange orchards. We saw the tiny little green oranges hanging from the branches. Come one month later, and you could see the whole village, suffused in a tinge of orange.

Just after crossing khasmahal village, we had our first view of Murti River. The emerald green stream was flowing rapidly through a green valley. The colorful terraced fields on both side of the river made the whole picture even more delightful. The river was still almost 500 feet below us, so we continued our downhill journey, deep inside the valley. The vegetation around us had also changed by then. Now it’s the thick bamboo groves that had crowded the hilly slopes. The tyre marks on the road had also vanished, suggesting apart from a few rambling traveler, nobody comes here. We had certainly moved into the wild.

Another 10 minutes downhill walk took us to Rocky Island. The place gets its name from a seasonal tent resort, which is put up every year during the tourist season. However since the tourist season was still more than one month away, there was nothing on the vicinity, providing us the opportunity to enjoy the place in its entirety. On the very first look the place looked just ethereal. The emerald green river was gushing down a green valley, surrounded by high hills full of greenery on all sides. It looked like a green world. Only the rocks of myriad hues on the riverbed prevented the whole picture from being a monochrome. The most striking feature obviously was the deafening silence of the place. There was no habitation around, whatsoever, and only the mountains seemed to be in an endless monologue. There is a pedestrian bridge, spanning the river. The other side of the river looked totally unexplored. There are a few sleepy villages like ‘Bhalukhop’, ‘Tinkatari’, on a few kms distance, crossing the river. We thought of discovering those hidden hamlets, but at the end decided against it. The trail was covered with thick foliage, and venturing without a guide wouldn’t have been a prudent idea.

We sat beside the river for almost an hour, soaking the silence of the place. Few kids came from nearby villages, and started bathing in the river. The place was so pristine I felt that only those naked kids could match its purity. City slickers like us dressed in fashionable jeans, T-shirts and trekking shoes are definitely a mismatch here. My friend had spent his childhood in village, so for him watching those kids bathing in the river was total nostalgia. For me the total trip was nostalgia. I had been to Samsing 5 yrs back, and thankfully I could find nothing much has changed since then. Starting from the sleepy serene atmosphere, hospitality of the local people and the natural beauty, everything has remained so pure. Lack of commercialization has kept Samsing’s pristine beauty alive. The only change that was needed though was the resumption of the Samsing tea garden. Once a sprawling tea garden is now mostly covered by clumps of wild creepers. Shut down in the 90’s the resumption of the garden could have made the people of Samsing a world of good.

Lepchajagat - the hidden beauty

Amidst all the speculations and controversies about the tumultuous political situation of Darjeeling hills, we started off for lepchajagat. The train as usual took a half an hour more to reach NJP, and the pathetic condition of hillcart road also forced us to change our estimation. But we never complained. Since what we had planned to do in lepchajagat is complete non-activity. The sleepy serene hamlet offers complete isolation from the heckling hoteliers and some tightly scheduled sight scene tours otherwise associated with any Darjeeling trip.
Getting a good sleep in the train has always been a problem for me. So just when I was feeling a bit drowsy inside the bus, the loud shouts of the conductor took me out of my nap. We disembarked at Ghoom, and as usual found it wrapped in its trademark mist. There were no taxis around, so we were preparing to wait for the Sukhia bound bus, but luckily a maruti Omni came out of the fog and a quick bargain later we were off towards lepchajagat. The surroundings changed almost magically. The unplanned commercial and urban settlements, which always tend to crowd the hilly slopes in an ugly way, disappeared, giving way to the sky-high dhupi and hemlock trees and as we moved ahead they grew in population. The 8 km road finished in a jiffy, and a short by-lane from the main road took us into some more thick foliage and to our destination, the lepchajagat forest rest house, maintained by WBFDC.

Unfortunately the rain started in no time. So after freshen up almost inevitably we ordered for the ‘Khichudi’. The kitchen staffs were also expecting that and even in their usual laid back style they managed everything within the next one hour. After a refreshing lunch, a stroll through the forest path around the rest house would have been ideal, however the shower outside ensured we keep ourselves confined to the rest house. So we huddled inside our quilt and went for the next best thing possible, a siesta.
After the fresh shower, even the mid summer evening drew in with a chill good enough to give our teeth chatter. So I piled up on every piece of warm clothing I had, and made my way to the terrace and what I saw was absolutely breathtaking. The entire Darjeeling town, just on the opposite hill, with all its glitzy lights was dazzling like a diamond in the dark. The stars were also shining bright on the clear sky, and at an elevation of 7000 ft, I felt like touching the stars. Mr. Tamang the manager of the rest house also predicted ‘Kal to bahut accha dikhega’, which basically meant we could see a great view of the mighty Kanchendzonga, tomorrow.
The next morning we wake up at around 4.30 a.m. beating even the local birds. It was still dark and the rolling hills and the surrounding foliage was looking at its surreal best. The deafening silence also accentuated the mystery. Slowly the sun came out and as soon as the crimson rays fell on the Kanchendzonga range, the magic begun. The next 30 minutes or so was our turn to get mesmerized by the amazing beauty of the mighty Himalayas. Slowly the snow peaks turned from pink to orange to gold and then the whole range came out in its dazzling white attire. The Kanchendzonga, Kabru, Kumbhakarna all were tantalizingly close looking ethereal against a clear blue sky. No matter how many times you have watched this spectacle, this always comes up with an unprecedented beauty. We stood transfixed there, watching this absolutely breathtaking phenomenon. So it was once again up to Mr. Tamang to show some of his managerial skills and to bring us out of our reverie. Our bed tea was getting cold!

After a lazy Sunday brunch, we set out for Mirik. Buses ply regularly between Darjeeling and Mirik, via lepchajagat. We got into one such bus. I have always believed as long as you don’t mind being crowded by the local people, bamboo baskets and kerosene cans, a bus journey is always more vibrant than in a hired car. We got the seat beside the driver, who incidentally turned out to be quite a friendly guy. We had a nice chat going, till some steep climb and sharp bends after Sukhia made him concentrate deeply on his driving. The road to Mirik runs mainly through forest area, with some scattered villages en route. Glimpses of life weren’t missing though on those remote villages. The bright sunshine ensured the kids come out on the road with their footballs, and the music lovers strum on their guitar sitting beside the road.
Mirik Lake was a disappointment however. The lake is not breathtakingly beautiful, so to make it more presentable the waterfront and the bridge that spans the lake need a facelift. The entire town was teeming with weekend tourists and the shacks beside the lake were doing a brisk business during the high season. We meandered aimlessly alongside the lake, savoring some delicious momo and then returned back to lepchajagat.

The next morning once again we wake up early in the morning expecting another breathtaking sunrise. However that was not to be. We found lepchajagat in a totally different mood. It was draped in thick fog and the visibility was almost zero.
So instead of going into terrace and craving for the snow peaks, I chose to ramble around the village, and slowly I realized lepchajagat with its misty mood is even more attractive than in a sunny day! With the thick fog around, the rustle of leaves, the shrill cry of an unknown bird, or the yell of a kid here and there, were creating a more surreal effect than usual. I felt I could wander around for hours, till the rain came down, forcing me to run for the shelter.
We returned to the plains via Darjeeling that day, but well before reaching Siliguri, I realized I would come back to lepchajagat once more for a tryst with the nature.
It’s really wondering how could this place, a mere 16 km away from Darjeeling, has been able to keep its pristine beauty alive. May be due to the emergence of Lava-Lolaygaon as more popular and touristy destination has ensured lepchajagat remains out of the usual tourist track. If that is the case, then it certainly is a blessing in disguise for the nature lovers.

Flame of the Hills

Ayodhya Hills

It was a Friday. I was returning home from office and wondering what to do on the weekend. Suddenly few planted Palash (Butea monosperma/Butea frondosa) trees alongside the road caught my attention. It was springtime, and the trees where in full bloom. But somehow the beautiful flowers were not looking pretty enough in the urban settings. So all of a sudden an idea came to my mind. What about enjoying these beautiful flowers in their original habitat? I immediately called up a friend and planned the tour in a jiffy. We would be going to Ayodhya hills, in Purulia. So later that night we boarded the 315 up Chakradharpur passenger and set out to enjoy the beautiful flowers in their native land.
Till Purulia the Palash trees where sporadic, but as soon as we crossed the Purulia town, quite magically the countryside changed. The undulating rocky terrain spread itself on both side of the track, and the Palash trees grew in population. All of them were in full bloom and the combination of red soil and vermilion flowers looked like a perfect monochrome picture.
We reached Barabhum station, reserved an ambassador for the whole day and set out towards Ayodhya hills.
As we moved ahead the forest got deeper, and with that increased the number of blooming Palashes. We climbed up to Mathaburu, to get a bird’s eye view of the plains below, and what we saw was absolutely breathtaking. It seemed before the upcoming summer could set this rocky terrain into fire, it’s those pretty flowers that were setting the forest ablaze with their bright vermilion color. Somebody has aptly named it as the ‘flame of the forest’.
Soon we reached Ayodhya hilltop. There were very few staying options in the hilltop, but somehow we managed to find a shabby looking lodge with basic facilities and unpacked ourselves.
We waited till afternoon and as soon as the sun became a bit milder, we hit the trails. The hilltop is basically a vast plateau at an elevation of 2000ft above sea level with thick tangled forest surrounding it from all sides. We rambled aimlessly through the groves of Sal, Kushum and Palash and realized we were certainly in the lap of Mother Nature. With the onset of spring the forest was just coming into leaves, and the tender leaves with their luminous green shade were a treat to the eyes. The blooming Palashes were ubiquitous though, tying the entire forest with its red ribbon.
There were sleepy hamlets hidden in the wooden slopes and finding one or two such villages out was a real fun. The villagers were affable and mingled freely with us. My digicam proved quite useful in making friends. The kids got really amazed to see their own snaps in the LCD screen. They jumped in joy, and their sweet smiles and gleaming faces said it all.
Just when we were returning towards Purulia, a thunderstorm started. Probably it was the season’s first ‘Kalbaishakhi’. After the whole days activity the chilly stormy wind instilled the much-needed freshness on us. But had we stayed in the hilltop till the next morning we could have seen something spectacular. In that storm hundreds and thousands of Palashes would fall from the trees, and those would certainly roll out a red carpet in the bridle paths of Ayodhya. Perhaps we missed that sight!