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Laxmi Van was a lovely place right near the confluence of Satopanth and Bhagarathi Kharak glaciers, from where the Alakananda River emerges. We learned from our guide that in the previous year, a sudden breakage in this glacier had caused a flash flood in the Alakananda, which swept away the bridge at Keshav Prayag at Mana. The Himalayas are the youngest mountains in the world and like a boisterous youth, the play of the elements in breaking and creating is a constant factor here.

Laxmivan also had its own mythical background. The whole trek to Satopanth Tal is the path that the Pandavas took for their last journey through the mortal world and the myths are scattered over each part of the land. In Laxmi Van, Draupadi, the wife of the five brothers, fell dead and the five brothers advanced. We took an early dinner and settled in our tent as darkness fell across the meadow.

The next morning was another dazzling one with the thin and fresh air and the blue sky bringing a vivid clarity in the atmosphere. Our city-bred eyes, unaccustomed to such glorious mornings, protested about the brightness levels. But the scenery around us was so fascinating that our blink rates dropped significantly. We packed up and moved ahead towards the glacial confluence.

It was the first time that I viewed the merger of two huge glaciers and the river originating from that point. It was enthralling to watch the forces of creation in action up close in that magnificent setting. After a few kilometers, the beautiful peak of Parvati and Ekdant came into view and after a few more steps, we could see the snowy slopes of the north face of Mount Neelkanth shining under the sun.

Worth mentioning that expeditions to Chaukhamba I (7,138m) follow the Bhagirathi Kharak glacier to reach the base camp. In May 2013, a team of explorers crossed the Chaukhamba Col to reach the Gangotri glacier. Previously, famous climber Martin Moran relived Shipton and Tilman’s historic 1934 journey by teaming up with Eric Shipton’s son, John Shipton. During May-June 1998, the team aimed to explore the mythical route between Badrinath and Kedarnath. They went ahead of Satopanth tal to cross a treacherous Col and descended into the remote valley of Gandharpongi gad. Negotiating the wild route through the valley, the team finally managed to reach Kedarnath after a few days of arduous trekking.

We reached Sahashradhara, where multiple streams cascade down the mountainside, creating a grand scenario. Being the season of autumn, the streams were dry and the area was covered in wet sand. The legend says that Yudhishtira, the eldest brother, was thirsty when he reached this spot. Arjuna then shot an arrow into the mountains to bring the streams down and quench his brother’s thirst.

The path rose up through a dense undergrowth and took us along the true right side of the Satopanth glacier.  All of a sudden, an amphitheater opened up in front of us with the peaks of Chaukhamba, Parvati and Neelkanth all shining under the sunlight. The treacherous ice-fall which was crossed by Eric Shipton and Bill Tilman lay on the left of the Chaukhamba massif and beside that rose Shipton’s peak.

An array of unknown peaks and ridges bordered the glacial valley, ending in Mount Neelkanth and Parvati on our left-hand side. It was a majestic sight and we stood transfixed by the grandeur. The region is also known as Alkapuri, which, as per the myths, is the capital of Kuber, the God of wealth. I found the name perfectly fitting, as in terms of natural beauty, this was one of the wealthiest spots I ever visited.

We walked over the knife-edge of a ridge bordering the glacier, reaching another huge meadow. This was the base camp for Neelkanth expeditions and the mountain rose another 2.5 kilometers steeply on our left. This face of Neelkanth is totally different from the one seen by Badrinath and has an unsymmetrical beauty attached to it. It was past midday and we laid down our sacks and relaxed on the grass and decided to take a few bites of food, which was packed earlier, along with breakfast. The temperature was quite low, but at this altitude, the sun’s rays had enough warmth to make us comfortable.

We moved ahead with the porters deciding to rest some more, which eventually turned into a siesta. After that unscheduled break, we followed the trail across glacial moraines, moving mostly up and after about two more kilometers, we found ourselves looking down at another huge meadow, the largest we have seen so far on the route, forming a basin-like depression bordered by high mountains and moraine ridges.

This meadow is called Chakratirtha, where the Pandavas are said to have made penance for killing the one hundred Kaurava brothers in the Kurukshetra war. We were above the tree line and the only vegetation in the meadow was a kind of grass that grew in circular patches. Later on, I uncovered some old shells from the ground while adjusting our tent pole; perhaps this meadow was a huge lake eons ago.

The porters set up the kitchen tent under a huge boulder over a ridge bordering the meadow. Our tents looked hopelessly insignificant in that huge expanse of wilderness. We were the only inhabitants of the meadow and it felt special, being the lone campers in that beautiful land in the core of the Himalayas. We were surrounded by high peaks and glacial ridges all around, shielding the meadow from the winds. Mount Balakun towered above us on the right and the east face of the Choukhamba massif blocked our vision in front. The altitude of Chakratirtha is slightly above the 4100-meter mark.

Looking back towards the east and Mana, we could see a lot many peaks, which we could not recognize. The light faded out fast and the temperatures dropped, making us put on the warm garments. Sipping hot cups of tea, we sat down around our tent, watching the shadows deepening around us with the cold trespassing through whatever gaps it could find in our clothing. The freezing night was dark and silent, with starlight creating an ethereal shimmer on the high peaks. It was a night when the depth and immensity of silence could be truly felt- something almost tangible.

The next day was another bright and cold morning. A bright and clear morning in the high mountains is invigorating for the mind and we were happy with the weather supporting us fully. At around 7.00 am, the temperature outside the tent was -1 degree centigrade. We had our breakfast and three of us, with Mannu and one porter, started for Satopanth Tal. The path led us right across the huge meadow of Chakratirtha.

The grassland was divided into two parts by a line of boulders. We noticed a huge icefall on the south face of Mt. Balakun as it rose majestically across the glacier to our right. A small stream crisscrossed the meadow and the top layer of the water was frozen when we crossed it.

The meadow ended at the foot of a high ridge, which blocked the views to the west. The climb was steep and it took quite some time for us to reach the razor-sharp top of the ridge. We literally sat across the edge, saddling it with two legs, enjoying the views. This ridge separated the grasslands from the main glacier fields.

There was no path beyond it and just boulders, moraines, and a few ice patches as glaciers from the peaks to our left came down to join the mighty flow of the Satopanth glacier, which was on our right. It was a barren land that was the playground of the mighty creative forces of the planet.

The moraine field stretched away with ridge after ridge rising at intervals right up to the foothills of the Chaukhamba massif and the Swargorohini icefall from where the Satopanth glacier originated. We came down from the ridge and started hopping across the boulders. This is one part of the Satopanth tal trek route that is challenging, tiring and somewhat risky, especially if the weather turns foul. At the same time, it is great fun to maintain one’s balance while hopping from one boulder to another in search of a sure footing.

Finding the right path through that terrain without a guide is tricky, even though there were cairns placed at intervals to act as guides. I made the mistake of carelessly placing my hand on a cairn for support while taking a long step and the topmost stones came crashing down upon my left leg. Luckily, my bones were strong enough to withstand the blow. Smaller glaciers or bamaks from the ridges around the Parvati peak on our right came down to join the Satopanth glacier, making the trek trail more difficult.

We moved ahead for more than an hour and then Mannu pointed to the top of a ridge about a kilometer ahead over which we were able to discern red flags. The lake is beyond that ridge, he told us. Another half hour of hard work of finding and losing our footing over all sorts of boulders and we were below that ridge. Climbing on top of it, I saw the red flags fluttering with the snow-covered face of Choukhamba in the backdrop.

A white river of ice snaked down from the face of Choukhamba I, leading to the formation of the Satopanth glacier. One left turn and I was in full view of the lake. The serene expanse of the teal-coloured waters of Satopanth tal nestled in the laps of the steep snowy peaks that surrounded it, creating a grand sight.

We descended the ridge to the banks of the Tal. It is in the shape of an irregular quadrilateral about two kilometers in circumference. The snow-covered peaks rose on two sides of the lake and the glacial moraines bordered the other sides. Our guide took a dip in the freezing waters and then climbed over a ridge, lying down under the sun to warm up. The idea of taking a dip in that bone-chilling water in that environment was somehow tempting, but I decided that some temptations of life were better avoided.

The waters of this lake are considered sacred and a bath is sure to take one a few definite steps up the spiritual ladder. There is a small cottage on the bank of the tal, which we learned was built for some sage. It was uninhabited at that time. I traced an almost nonexistent path through the boulders on one side to catch the reflection of Choukhamba in the water, but the winds kept on setting up ripples in the shining surface, depriving me of a clear image.

The sound erupted like artillery fire from the top of one of the peaks to our left, as we were engrossed with the mesmerizing beauty of the setting. Turning our heads, we found an avalanche rushing down the sides of a nearby snow slope. It was a small one, but the powdery snow almost reached the waters of the lake. It was a phenomenon we only read about and saw in movies and documentaries.

In front of our own eyes and in that atmosphere, it was an awe-inspiring spectacle. We relaxed on the boulders, immersing our senses in the beautiful setting around us. The whole effort of the entire journey was to reach Satopanth tal and now that we made it, it was not like we achieved something. All we knew was that we had just added a wonderful new chapter in our book of life experiences. I did not understand this at that point, but looking back, I understood that this journey touched some deeper aspects of myself. And the impact was truly transformative.

It was then time to turn back. A few last looks at the blue waters shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, a few more clicks of the camera and then the climb up the ridge again.  There are a few camping spots further along the glacier but we aimed to view the lake in all its glory and had no plans to push further ahead. It is from here that Yudhishtira, the last surviving Pandava brother, took the final steps for his heavenly journey with only a dog as his companion.

It was boulder hopping once again, and we continued, taking some rest stops in between, till we reached the borders of Chakratirtha. We climbed down the ridge lazily and marched forward across the grassland to reach our tents. The hours of the afternoon were spent in photography and chatting with our guide. I asked him about the myth of a priest travelling from Badrinath to Kedarnath in a day and he told us a tale believed by the villagers of Mana.

As per the legend, the route was indeed there and a priest used to travel via that, offering pujas to each shrine. One day, the lord wished to test him and so while on the path, he saw a local fruit tree bearing juicy ripe fruits. Now he was not supposed to eat anything unless he completed the rituals in both the temples. But the poor priest fell prey to the lure of the ripe fruits and plucked and ate a few. After that, he could never find the path across to the other temple; the road was blocked up as a punishment for his greed.

The setting sun painted the Choukhamba and Balakun peaks with a golden hue and the snowy flanks shone with an otherworldly splendor. Gradually, the darkness and clouds descended on the mountains and the temperatures fell sharply. We heard a rumble again from somewhere near the Choukhamba massif, but it was shrouded by the clouds, so we could not spot the avalanche.

The next two days saw us retrace our paths back to Mana village through the fascinating path. The only other souls we met on our path were two European trekkers with their guides and porters. Interestingly, one of the trekkers had taken a vow of silence during the trek. We went past Laxmivan and camped in the grasslands of Chamtoli for the night. It was another lovely place for camping, covered with smooth yellow grass and high peaks rising above the ridges.

Then we were back in the riverbed at Mana snapping group photos and attracting curious glances from the tourists who had come to visit Mana from Badrinath. I guess the heavy rucksacks, crumpled dresses and the satisfying all-out smile on sunburned faces are quite a spectacle for normal tourists. We bid farewell to Mannu Rawat and our porters after paying them their dues and headed back for Johimath.

After taking our rooms in the same hotel, the first thing I did was take a good shower, the first in six days. It was time to go down the mountains, back into the maze of our own city lives. We completed the trek, but Satopanth Tal, with all its splendour, has remained engraved in a special chapter of our memories. A chapter that will never lose its enchanting touch.

Satopanth Tal Trekking Information

The Satopanth Tal trek starts from the Mana village near Badrinath. You will need at least five days for this trek. The best season for visiting Satopanth Tal is autumn, when the weather remains clear. That generally consists of the period between end-September and mid-October.

The route is not clear of snow till mid-May and it’s not possible to trek across the glacial moraine before that period. The period between May to August is also a good time, as the rain causes the flowers to bloom in the meadows. The Shahasradhara waterfalls are also in full flow in that period.

However, the clouds and mist do not make that period the right option for the best peak views. And in terms of peak view, Satopanth Tal is one of the best Himalayan trekking trips you can pick. From Choukhamba, Neelkanth, and Swachchand at one end to Mana and Deoban on the other, the range of peaks visible from this trekking trail is fascinating.

While planning an itinerary for the Satopanth Tal trek, I suggest you spend a night in Badrinath or Mana. The trek can be completed in four days if you are running short of time. But I suggest taking five days and doing it at a more leisurely pace.

Generally, this route is classified as a moderately challenging one, and I agree with that. The beauty of the Satopanth Tal trek is that there are no continuous steep uphill or downhill terrains to negotiate. Also, the path isn’t risky or technical in that sense, except in some small areas. But the altitude remains high throughout and walking along the glacier bed is not an easy task. So it’s best suited for those with prior trekking experience. Guides and support team are available at Joshimath and also at Mana village.

Check out more trekking routes in our other travelogues.

By Suvajit Banerjee

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