AND then there was Dudiput lake. All of us gasped, we could not breathe. It wasn’t only due to the breathtaking beauty of this elusive enchanting lake, but the real cause was the height on which it was located, 12600ft to be exact. We were slightly delirious at times talking self-smiling tours, grinning, completely and happy with our life. When the initial euphoria subsided, we choose to pitch our tents right beside the lake. But our Buddha Bashir shook his head, “No sir. The ground by the lake is very damp. We will camp on the hillock overlooking the lake from where you can see the total view of the blue mass.” Unwillingly, the bunch of us accepted his advice as he was the all-knowing-mighty guide.
So our tent city of red and blue domes rose on the hillock facing the full magnificence of Dudiput.
How would I compare Dudiput with Luluser? Well lakes, no matter how small or insignificant they are, cannot be compared as they are like human beings, each with its own personality and form. Some lakes are very private and personal, like Lake Kromber situated in the shadows of Pamir mountains and Wakhan corridor. One can have a lasting affair with such a shy lake, remembering its almost frozen waters in times of sorrows and stress and gaining strength from its memories. And then the snow lake signs its autographs with its icy fingers on your whole being so that you may never forget them.
And then the recently visited Lulusar, its vastness embraces you and fills you with its golden waters.
Dudiput was in a way a miniature of Lake Saifulmaluk, but much more private and personal. The glaciers ornamenting the green slopes; banks littered with flowers and certain aloofness which objects to the presence of strangers violating its serene sanctity. In short, Dudiput was a rare spectacle of snows, pink flowers, lush green slopes and crystal clear atmosphere. But as the evening descended amongst these heavenly watery heights there rose like a Loch Ness monster, spectre of bad news. Both of our recruits were stricken by the height, Zahid Butt was vomiting and running a very high fever whereas Qaiser had a splitting headache and had difficulty in breathing, they were not in very good shape to say the least.
“Tarar Sahib,” the worried Bashir peeped into my tent “I am afraid Qaiser and Butt sahib have to be evacuated. Their lungs cannot stand this height and until and unless we take them down to Basil to lose height they are in grave danger, Salman is not feeling too well either.”
This indeed was a bad news, I was suppose to be the leader of the “discover the elusive lakes” expedition and was responsible for the safety of its members. So an emergency meeting was held in my tent and I decided that with half of our team gone it will be useless to carry on with the expedition. Hence, it is abandoned, all of us will go back to Basil tomorrow morning and with luck we will come back next year.
Butt and Qaiser, shivering in their tents, felt very guilty but I assured them that it was part of the game, it happens, when you don’t mind your business and meddle with the mountain heights; it happens. But Khan Salim was impertinent enough to disagree with me, flashing his Bugs Bunny smile he said, “Tarar Sahib this is now or never, who knows next year comes or not. I suggest that we dispatch these sick fellows back to Basil on horses and I further suggest that from now onwards instead of walking we also hire some horses to complete the trek and horses are plentiful around here.”
“Are they plentiful around here?” I asked Bashir
“This is a horse valley sir, you can raise a cavalry regiment here, plenty of horses”
So be it, the height stricken members will be evacuated tomorrow morning and we will be riders instead of walkers for rest of our trek.
The pitch dark veil of the night fell suddenly and in its blind darkness glowed the kitchen tent, under which our cook Hafiz Anwar cooked kofta curry and rice over the gas cylinder. There were only three of us in the kitchen tent that night to have dinner and now we felt guilty that we are abandoning our companions, love of elusive lakes had made us into selfish animals.
Dudiput at night, a cold cold night, at the height of 12600ft glowed in the darkness like a huge overcharged firefly and its glow filtered through my tent. I could not sleep. I was also short of breath. Then the firefly of lake dimmed and the morning came as Homer described, with its bright fingers and the surrounding green slopes, mass of flowers and snows were a still reflection on the still waters. It was a breath taking sight as there was still some breath which could be taken. I stood on the banks of the lake and wondered as to which was real, fact or reflection.
And with the morning came the horses, plenty of them. Three for our dear departing friends and their luggage, back to Basil friends and four for us as Salman was feeling much better and he decided to drag along, along with three pack horses which made a respectable number of horses i.e.; seven in all along with their owners of course.
The dear ones departed with Byron’s ‘parting is a sweet sorrow’ departing.
Today we were suppose to climb and climb and cross the Saral Pass at a meagre height of 13600ft and descend into a valley guarded by high passes and in its lap was hidden a lake of unsurpassed beauty, the Siral lake.
But at present by the lake of Dudiput I had a minor problem. In all my sinful years I had ridden many a species but never a horse or a donkey for that matter, except a short ride in the Pamirs and when with the help of two porters I was placed upon a saddle I transformed into an astronaut, totally weightless, helpless and without any control over my aging limbs. Rest of the members had some sort of minor or major experience of riding a four legged beast and felt comparatively at ease.
So far so good but, perching on a still horse was one uncontrollable condition. But as soon as the horse moved the whole universe moved around me and I begged very loudly to be excused. But the die was cast and it was either do or die so I decided to die. When the horse started moving, in this moment of crisis suddenly all those cowboy movies of the past came to my rescue in which Gary Cooper or John Wayne handled this awful beast with careless ease. So I followed their example, I stretched myself backwards when the horse decided to take a sudden plunge and leaned forward almost kissing the neck of the beast when it climbed.
By the way, most of these animals carrying our sinful burden were not horses, but mares whom our male chauvinism declared them to be horses.
As soon as we parted with the flower strewn valley of Dudiput instead of us our horses started panting because were climbing towards an impossible height, which looked daunting, and totally beyond our meagre mountaineering skills. The formidable pass of Siral looked as though it was not on this earth but situated in the skies above. After crossing a minor glacier on which our horses slipped and at times skied back on all fours from where we had started. So we abandoned them and started climbing an unfriendly rocky height.
However, Salman persisted that he will manage his pony on the heights but the pony could not manage his weight and Salman fell and almost went down the ridge. But at this juncture our porters and Ghora Wallas proved to be the real heroes. They unloaded the pack horses, carried the luggage on their backs, up to the high pass, came tumbling back and then almost dragged their horses over boulders and rocks up to the pass again.
Finally we also managed to reach the Siral top at a height of 13600ft and below, down below in the midst of a green valley glistened the emerald of almost unknown Siral lake. The flower-strewn slopes descended into the aloof valley and then there was Siral.
AND then there was Dudiput lake. All of us gasped, we could not breathe. It wasn’t only due to the breathtaking beauty of this elusive enchanting lake, but the real cause was the height on which it was located, 12600ft to be exact. We were slightly delirious at times talking self-smiling tours, grinning, completely and happy with our life. When the initial euphoria subsided, we choose to pitch our tents right beside the lake. But our Buddha Bashir shook his head, “No sir. The ground by the lake is very damp. We will camp on the hillock overlooking the lake from where you can see the total view of the blue mass.” Unwillingly, the bunch of us accepted his advice as he was the all-knowing-mighty guide.
