Bagini Glacier and Changabang: Trek Details

In October 2013 I trekked to Bagini Glacier, Changabang base, Kala Khal and Kanari Khal.

I wrote a few blogposts about it:

• The mountains are calling and I must go...
• Trek to the elusive Changabang
• You are lucky to be alive

Here, I provide basic details of the trek we undertook.

We traveled to Joshimath by car from Haridwar after reaching Haridwar by train from Delhi. From Joshimath, our Changabang trek commenced.

On the first day (day-1) we trekked from Joshimath to Gorson, via Auli and returned to Joshimath. This was just to get used to the high altitudes and was part of our acclimatization. I would recommend a day like this prior to commencing any arduous trek.

On the second day of our trek (the first day of our Changabang trek) we set off quite early, by car, from Joshimath to Jumma village. From there, our actual journey began. The trek from Jumma Village to Bagini Base Camp and Changabang Base Camp takes you through the villages of Ruing (at 2800m, the first night) and Donagiri (3700m, second night) and follows the steep, crystal clear, cold and spectacular Dhauli Ganga River for much of the trek. 

To reach Ruing (day-2), you trek through woods of tall oak trees, a pleasant trek despite the occasional narrowness of the track. It is a reasonably easy despite a few narrow ledges and a few steep climbs. The path is quite well marked out. 

The trek towards Donagiri Village from Ruing (day-3) is through the really picturesque and wonderful Chancha valley which is filled with crustal-clear streams and tall trees although, by the time you reach Donagiri village, the tall trees have already disappeared. This too is an enjoyable trek. Although the overall gain during the day is nearly 1000m, almost every steep climb is followed by a comfortable, level walk for a bit which provides a natural recovery. At the start, we thought that this would be the toughest day of trekking because of the overall gain in elevation, but it proved to be one of the most enjoyable and was a somewhat easy day of trekking for the whole group.

Our camp was some 2 kilometres away from the Donagiri village. It was quite late by the time we got to the Donagiri village. So we weren't able to admire the natural beauty around us. But we woke up to the spectacular sight of snow-capped mountains all around us. We could see Haathi-Ghoda, Dronagiri, Hardeval, Monal and many other peaks from our camp

View of Haathi-Ghoda mountains from Dronagiri camp [Photo Credit: Prasshanth]

Beyond the Dronagiri camp, after a short walk on a lovely meadow (from which you get spectacular views of the Dronagiri and Hathi-Ghoda mountains), the walk is almost entirely along the Bagini River and atop boulders. This is also a relatively easy day but can be quite fatigue-inducing because of the relentlessness of the traversal atop boulders.

The trek from Donagiri village to the Bagini Base Camp (day-4) is almost entirely along a relentless and extremely wide moraine meadow. It is pretty in some parts, but mostly quite tiring as the moraine rolls on for ever. Walking atop boulders is not a pleasant experience and you need to do it unremittingly and seemingly interminably. 

The climb from Bagini Base camp to the foothills of the Changabang mountain (day-5) was the most spectacular trek/climb I have ever undertaken. From the Bagini Base camp, we walked along a snow-ridge for what seemed like an eternity until Changabang suddenly revealed itself. The sight itself is worth the hardship of the trek. Some people cross a glacier to reach the Changabang Advanced Base Camp, but we decided to return. You could either return to the Bagini Base Camp and spend an additional night there or continue on towards Toli. We carried on to Toli Camp which is a further 3-hour (mostly downhill) trek from Bagini Base Camp. A lovely, clear and cold stream runs alongside the Toli camp, where had our first decent wash of the trek. 

After the first day of our trek, we had no access to mobile phone signals. There were no text messages, no email notices, and no phone calls. We walked, talked, introspected, laughed and argued. At nights, those of us who could, sang a bit although when oxygen is in short supply, I sing worse than I normally do. On a few nights -- particularly at lower altitudes where we could find an adequate supply of branches -- we stood by a fire and warmed ourselves up. There is nothing much to do other than talk, think, introspect, sing songs, play cards or read.

The next day (day-6), we walked up to Kanari Khal (Kanari Pass) and down to Raj Kharak. Before I set out on this trek I had miscalculated the degree of difficulty involved on this day in particular and on this trek, in general. I thought it would be less arduous than the Stok Kangri trek I had undertaken earlier. The last three days of this trek made this one a much tougher trek although we were at lower altitudes. We gained only 400m (from 3800m to 4200m) on our trek to Kanari Khal, but the climb was incredibly steep and quite difficult in parts. From the pass we descended to the Raj Kharak meadows to camp there. We encountered a network of lovely streams and had the enviable luxury of a second wash in two days. It was quite useful for we were about to embark on a tough climb to Kala Khal the next day.

Again, the climb to Kala Khal (day-7) was only a gain of 500m from the base of Raj Kharak to the pass. But this was a hard climb in which some parts were extremely slippery, and others were physically and mentally exhausting. We could not climb this mountain face directly; we had to criss-cross our way to the top. It was hard work. At one point in time I slipped. Our main guide, another Mohan, came rushing to me and asked if I needed assistance. But I wanted to do it on my own and so, I politely refused. He immediately realised and asked if my ego would be hurt if I accepted his help. I agreed. To me, I had done the preparation. I could do this on my own without being dragged or supported to the top.

So we criss-crossed our way slowly. Or, as one of our guides said constantly, "First you need to go on the zig and then you need to turn and go on the zag." For much of this climb my left ear (on the zig) or right ear (on the zag) was no more than two feet away from the face of the mountain. I had to hold on to the tall grass that grew on the mountain face for support. I slipped a few times, but the grass supported me and held me back as I made my way up. Slowly. These tall grass are wonderfully strong and even though I tried hard, I could not remove even a single blade of grass. 

Eventually, we got to the lovely Kala Khal at 4500m. The pass was as beautiful as we were told it would be. We could survey everything around us for several hundred kilometres. We saw the range of mountains that marked the India-China border (near the Nithi village). We could also see army camps at Mallari and Bhojgiri down below us and that is where we were headed for  our last camp.

We had a bit of drama at our camp in Bhojgiri. After being interrupted by army jawans early in the night, we had a good night's rest. We then proceeded to Mallari (day-8) where our trek ended. We traveled by car back to Joshimath.

This is a trek that I would highly recommend. We traveled with the Grand Himalayan Adventures company, a group that I would recommend very highly.

--Mohan (@mohank)

Trek to the elusive Changabang

This article was first published in DNA Online on 14 December 2013.

In October 2013 we decided we would try and attempt the Bagini Glacier trek to the foothills of the Changabang mountain.

For the last three years, in what has become an annual pilgrimage, a few friends and I have headed to the Himalayas to explore, and challenge ourselves while traversing the wilderness.

Some of us want to escape to a remoteness where, for a fortnight, we aren’t troubled by the buzz of our internet-connected mobile phones that herald yet another email or deadline. For others, it is an opportunity to see the spectacular beauty of the mountains. For me, it is both. 

In 2011, we trekked to the Kuari pass in the Garhwal Himalayas in Uttarakhand. On this trek, you can see almost nothing until you reach the pass itself. Then, once you are at the pass, it is as if the mountains have pulled open a screen that hid the actors of a play from view. I remember being taken aback by the splendour of the vista. We could see several peaks, including Hathi Ghoda Parbat, Mukut Parbat, Mana and Rishi Pahad, and the most imposing of all, Dronagiri.

View from Kuari Pass [Photo credit: Paddy Padmanabhan]

Though the missus and my friends constantly remind me, it is in the rough country amidst towering mountains that I am really reminded of my own insignificance. The brilliant views and the tall mountains heighten my own sense of irrelevance in the overall scheme of things. The proud and daunting peaks in this white theatre continually narrate a contrasting story of beauty, fragility, strength and continuance. Every time I see this theatre, I realize that this magnificence must be preserved and I resolve to care more for our fragile ecosystem. 

The peaks of the Garhwal Himalayas always seem to carry secrets and hope. Hope that despite the devastation and destruction we see every day, and the erosion of natural resources, these mountains will stand strong and constant. The confluence of the elements is wonderfully played out here. The rising sun paints the snow-capped peaks with a golden glow. Despite the low temperatures and the unbelievable crispness in the air, the sun warms the meadows (or “bugyals”) and valleys through which we When night falls, it is quick and it becomes incredibly cold.

The Kuari Pass trek proceeds along the beautifully laid out Curzon trail, through remote, charming Himalayan villages. It was autumn, so the trees dotting the paths were clothed in lovely shades of orange, brown and red. Occasionally the stunning snow-capped white or the imposing brown of a mountain peak was visible against the clear blue canvas of the sky. We saw the majestic Nanda Devi (7817m) and Trishul (7120m).

View of Nanda Devi [Photo Credit: Paddy Padmanabhan]

This annual pilgrimage gives me the opportunity to challenge myself. I run, but running does not come naturally to me. I’ve had to work hard at it, and at everything I do. The mountains remind me to continue. It is as if they tell me, “If you need to get to the top and if you want to, you and only you must do the hard work. You are responsible. Don’t look for excuses. Don’t constantly look to others to lend you a helping hand. You need to do the hard work. Yes, you.” I remind myself of this constantly, but there is no place this message seeps better in than in the mountains when I am on my own, totally exposed and vulnerable.

Our trek in Ladakh in 2012 was completely different to to our experience on the Kuari Pass trek. The mountainous Ladakh desert presents different landscapes and challenges. Dehydration, the lack of tall trees to protect us from the harsh environment, the cruel winds that slap your face with dust, and altitude sickness meant that only a few of us made it to the top of the Stok Kangri mountain, at about 6200m. 

This year, in October, we returned to the Uttarakhand Himalayas. I love these mountains, though I wish Joshimath – from where most treks commence – was as much a trekker’s paradise as Leh is for treks in Ladakh. Joshimath is an unremarkable town, with very little to offer by way of interest. It is neither charming nor peaceful. It is hustle and bustle, car fumes and horns. It is perfect if all you want to do is to use the town as a reminder of why you must escape to the hills as quickly as possible.

On our first day, we planned to escape from Joshimath by driving to Kedarnath and back. This was so that we could prepare and acclimatise ourselves for the high altitudes we would face later on the trek. But the road to Badrinath and Kedarnath had not reopened after the June floods. We decided, instead, to set out from Joshimath, trek past Auli to Gorson and return. We climbed through lush oak forest and bugyals, mostly in gentle rain, hoping ardently to catch a glimpse of Nanda Devi. This peak has a sharpness and yet provides a watchful eye and a welcoming embrace to anyone who wants to walk and marvel at the fabulous biodiversity around it. But due to the mist that enveloped us for much of the day, we were unable to see it.

Here are specific details of the trek we undertook

Several people told us it would be unsafe and unwise to travel to the Garhwal Himalayas after the June 2013 floods that badly affected these areas. But I strongly feel it is at times like these that people in affected areas need us to support the work they do for a living. At times like these, we need to give them that assurance, and work together through the havoc nature wrought on them.

Our main trek was to Bagini base Camp, and from there to Changabang advanced base camp. The Changabang peak was our main destination. The trek is almost entirely along an extremely wide moraine meadow. It is pretty in some parts, but mostly quite tiring as the moraine rolls on for an eternity. Walking atop boulders is not a pleasant experience, especially when you have to do it for hours. Beyond the Dronagiri camp, which you reach on the second day of the trek, the walk is almost entirely along the Bagini River.

View of the Haathi Ghoda mountains [Photo Credit: Prasshanth]

At Dronagiri camp, the big mountains begin surrounding you completely. We had reached the camp the previous evening after trekking in poor light. Clouds surrounded the camp and we were unable to see what was around. So, the view the next morning stunned us. Several peaks, including Hathi-Ghoda, Trishuli, Monal, Har Deval, Dronagiri, were lit up by the rays of the morning sun bouncing off their snow-capped tops.

There are also a few river crossings along the way. The river is not more than knee-deep, but flows quickly and is not easy to cross. Remarkably, my toes which were almost numb with pain at that point, stopped hurting after I stepped into the river, and as the ice-cold waters enveloped my feet. 

We had walked the whole day, but the moraine wouldn’t end. We trekked past what was called the “Bengali base camp”, which seemed a good place to stop. Our tired legs, and even more tired minds, screamed for respite. But our guide pressed on, and we walked in a daze.

View of Dronagiri as we walked along the endless
moraine along Bagini River 

By the time we reached Bagini camp, at about 4400m, four people from our group decided they’d had enough of the trek to Changabang. They fell ill while trekking from Dronagiri to Bagini base camp. They suffered from a mix of nausea, continuous headache and fatigue.

Headaches in these mountain treks can attack you suddenly and without warning. It is as if a few thousand hammers pound away inside your head and it can be quite unpleasant.

The four of them wanted to head down to Toli camp the next morning. Two of us, though, wanted to walk up to the Changabang advanced base camp. We decided we would do continue on, and return to join the others at Toli camp.

The climb from Bagini base camp to the foothills of the Changabang Mountain is the most rewarding trek I have undertaken. Soft, fresh snow covered much of the path that took us up a long ridge. Our guide said we would catch the first glimpse of the peak at the top of the ridge. But no matter how much we walked, it remained far away. So much so that I started to believe it was a mystery that didn’t exist. I called it the “reclusive mountain” because, though we had heard so much about it, it just wouldn’t reveal itself. There was a mystery surrounding its very existence. The more we trudged up the ridge, the farther it seemed to get away from us. It tested us, our resolve and our determination.

Then, after an eternity, Changabang suddenly emerged. 

Changabang [Photo credit: Prasshanth]

We’ve all heard trekkers and climbers describe mountains as the most beautiful or awe inspiring thing they’ve seen. 


The moment Changabang revealed itself, it took my breath away. I could completely relate to what WH Murray wrote about it in his 1950 book Scottish Himalayan Expedition that I had read prior to this trek: 

“The nearest of the great peaks, Rishi Kot, turned to us an edge like a cutlass but black as gun-metal, whereas Changabang, its neighbour, by day the most like a vast eye-tooth fang, both in shape and colour — for its rock was a milk-white granite — Changabang in the moonlight shone tenderly as though veiled in bridal lace; at ten miles’ distance seemingly as fragile as an icicle; a product of earth and sky rare and fantastic, and of liveliness unparalleled, so that unawares one's pulse leapt and the heart gave thanks — that this mountain should be as it is.”

I’d wanted to see what Murray saw, and I did. I stood transfixed, never having seen anything more inspiring, more threatening, more rousing and more protective. Not many people have scaled Changabang, and neither did we. But I thanked the mountain for having given me the opportunity to see such a beautiful sight. We walked closer to it for another hour until it felt like we could almost touch it. But after one last forlorn look at it, we turned back towards Toli.

An account of why I trek regularly

The mountains are calling and I must go

Moments like these are what draw me to the Himalayas every year. I need reminding that my purpose is bigger than my job, my savings, deadlines, my home and retirement plans. I also need to be reminded of my own fallibility. I believe it is important to feel insignificant and humble, and there is no better place for this than in the Himalayas.

The thing about the mountains is that it is hard to give up and go home. There is no home to go back to. You can’t get angry, pick up your bat and ball, and trudge away angrily or despondently. You are there on your own, with your thoughts and resilience. You have to dig deep, build resolve and continue, and this is where preparation is important.

We continued our trek and, a few days later, reached Kala Khal, at 4500m. The pass was as beautiful as we’d heard it would be. We could see everything around for miles. We saw the range of mountains that marks the India-China border (near Nithi village), and army camps at Mallari and Bhojgiri down below, where we headed for our last camp.

This trek was as much a test of endurance as it was a feast to the eyes. As always, I learned a lot about myself. And catching sight of Changabang was my favourite moment of this trek. 

Changabang taught me a very important lesson. In an increasingly competitive world dominated by sellers and marketers, the one who shouts the loudest and longest wins. There is a constant need to trumpet your achievements more than the others. Changabang taught me the wastefulness of it all: it didn't need to blow its trumpet, puff its chest and constantly announce itself to the world amidst a cacophony of drums. Its mere presence, its existence, was enough to mark its impressive history. It would continue to stand there: shyly and away from view, yet strong and defiant.

-- Mohan