Spectacular passes of Himachal: Pin Parbat

The massive Pir Panjal range of the Greater Himalaya separates the districts of Kullu and Lahaul-Spiti in Himachal Pradesh. There are a number of rugged passes along this range which hardy tribes have used since time immemorial — Kugti, Chobia, Kalicho and Rohtang served the residents of Lahaul, while Hamta and Pin Parbat were used by the people of Spiti.

Inevitably, with the expansion of the road network and improved connectivity, these passes now witness the passage of only the resilient gaddis (Himalayan sheep dogs) or the adventurous trekker.

At 5,319 m, Pin Parbat straddles the watershed of Kullu and Spiti: the north is drained by the mysterious Pin river, and the south by the Parbati. Pin Parbat also separates two distinct eco zones: the Kullu side is blessed with lush green temperate vegetation, while the northern Spiti side is a cold desert devoid of any vegetation, a frozen canvas of sculpted rocks and lonely peaks bathed in the most colourful hues imaginable. The pass can be approached from both sides, but the route from the Parbati valley on the Kullu side is the more preferred option.

The  launch point for the ascent to the pass is the glacial Mantalai lake (4,267 m), the source of the Parbati river and a three-day trek from the road head at Pulga in the Parbati valley. There is no human habitation after Khir Ganga, a day's trek from Pulga, and the only peoples you can expect to meet thereafter are the itinerant, nomadic and transhumant Gujjars or Gaddis with all their worldly assets literally on the hoof, guarded by that matchless breed of dogs, the eponymous gaddi. 

It is possible to reach the pass from Mantalai in a day’s hard trekking and climbing, but this is not advisable because it involves a climb of 1,200 m and then a descent of another 1,000 m to the campsite on the other side, all over rocks, ice and crevasses.

Any delay, and one can be stranded in dangerous no man’s land in the darkness. It is best, therefore, to camp at the foot of the pass after leaving Mantalai and push up to the pass the next day.

The track from the lake heads east along a narrow, detritus-filled valley overhung with glaciers on both sides which feed the lake itself. It ends about three km later at an awe-inspiring feature: a sheer wall of loose rock and moraine, rising straight up 300 m at an impossible angle of 70 degrees.

It’s difficult to get a firm footing on this slippery slope, and one has to inch up one step at a time, keeping a lookout for falling boulders. It takes two hours to reach the top: at 5,000 m, the view is stupendous — a 270-degree sweep from west to north, an unending array of glaciers, peaks and shimmering streams, all feeding the forbidding lake which we had just left behind.

The track continues eastward from the saddle, along a narrow, scree-covered valley floor, through which flows another small stream originating from the glacier atop Pin Parbat itself. We followed this rivulet for a couple of kilometres and then pitched camp for the night — base camp I.

The next day dawned bright and crisp as only the mountains can offer. We broke camp at 7.00 am, and after a kilometre came to a huge rockfall about 50 m high, which would extend all the way to the pass. The going is tough, but soon relieved by the snout of a massive glacier on the right, again about 50 m high.

It was an awe-inspiring feature as we moved along its foot: it had ice caves and overhangs from which little ribbons of snow melt emerged in hundreds of cascades, all merging into the little stream we were following.

Soon, we were above the glacier and could now see its huge expanse from the top. It stretched away as far as the eye could see to the south, fractured with hundreds of crevasses. I sometimes wonder if this immense glacier is still there, or if it, too, has succumbed to the effects of global warming.

After another kilometre or so, the top of the rockfall is achieved, and the Pin Parbat pass itself now rises on the ridge-line, completely encased in a thick mantle of ice. This ice crust is about 10 feet thick at the edge. We clambered over it; the prospect before us was absolutely mesmerising: wave upon wave of ice dunes, hillocks and shallow valleys of snow and ice on the massive glacier, gently ascending to the pass itself.

There is no track, and the surface is fractured with innumerable crevasses. The snowfall of the previous night had covered these fissures with a light mantle of snow, obscuring them from the careless trekker and presenting an additional danger. Carefully roped up, we trudged through the vast ice field and after about an hour, crested the top of the glacier.

This is indeed glacier land — all around us were these massive rivers of ice, we counted at least 12 of them. We were now standing on the exact watershed line between Kullu and Spiti, looking down into the little-known Pin valley, taking its name from one of the streams originating from the pass — the Pin river.

Base camp II was a further 1000 exhausting metres below. From base camp II, which is on the banks of the infant Pin, it is another two days’ trek to the little village of Mudh. This is the Pin Valley National Park, the domain of the snow leopard, Spiti wolf, ibex and ghoral (short-horned goat-antelope).

Avay Shukla is a retired IAS officer and author of Disappearing Democracy: Dismantling of a Nation and other works. He blogs at avayshukla.blogspot.com