Ladakh is a cold desert at an average altitude of 3,657-4,570 meters. Despite the aridity and high altitude, the region is home to a myriad of unique flora and fauna with special adaptations. There are over 30 mammals and over 300 bird species in the region. But many of them are being pushed to the brink of extinction because of ambitious human endeavors. Several protected areas have been established to protect them in their mountainous habitats, but their effectiveness is less known. One of the most important of these protected areas is the Hemis High Altitude national park.
On a sunny afternoon in early July, Yashveer, Kishor, Chris, Tracey and I set off on an expedition to Hemis National Park. We put our bags in an overland cruiser and left Leh, the capital of Ladakh. After driving for half an hour on an apparently desiccated plateau, we reached the confluence of the Rumbak and Rumchung streams. We walked into the Rumchung valley and arrived at the campsite before sunset. There we waited for the horses carrying our camping equipment, but we pitched tents for a long time. Dinner was soon served and I went to bed early to sleep tired. The chirping of crickets and the tinkling sound of a bell on a horse's neck were the only sounds that broke the silence.
After a day spent in Rumchung, we went up the Rumbak valley. Dugyas, a camp assistant, became lethargic and complained of the heat, and was relieved when he saw a huge cloud moving towards the burning sun. A wind from the west was cold and invigorating. Two hours of walking in the scorching heat led us to the second campsite. Sonam, the cheerful cook, sang loudly as he prepared lunch. It was a real laugh and it kept us intermittently. In the afternoon, I bathed in the fast mountain stream, and lingered among the willow trees while my washed clothes dried on the boulders cooked in the sun.
The following days were spent with the Argali sheep in the upper part of the Rumbak valley. Argali is the largest wild sheep, standing 3.5 to 4 feet at the shoulder; horn length up to 40 inches. One afternoon, my assistant and I went up to a lookout point that offered a bird's eye view of the entire valley. It was very difficult to climb in the thin air, and every 100 m I rested and panted in the crisp air. Soon I was amazed at the spectacular view of the jagged mountains of the Zangskar mountain range to the west. It was truly a perfect cosmic art!
The approximately 25 banks in the area are the descendants of three individuals who arrived in the valley three decades ago. People considered the arrival of the animal in the valley as a good omen and protected them. However, the population does not grow beyond 25 years; perhaps the carrying capacity for the animal in this area has reached. The argali need open areas since they rely on their speed to escape from predators and this terrain is very limited in Hemis.
After the memorable days with argalis, we moved to Tibles camp, one of my favorites in the area. Chris and I crossed the Maskeung valley, a great hangout for the argalis. From a ridge I saw a herd of 13 bharals, all male, grazing on a green spot at the bottom of the valley. Soon Chris found another pack of 26 bharals, resting on a south facing slope above Yurutse. The Bharal or the blue sheep is the most abundant wild ungulate of Hemis and is the most important prey of the endangered snow leopard. Unlike the argalis, the bharals are comfortable in the rugged cliffs, which they use to escape predation. This predilection of the animal for the cliffs separates it from the argali, allowing their coexistence in the area.
The area is also grazed by cattle such as sheep, goats, horses and dzo (a hybrid of yak and cow). Most of the livestock belongs to people who live outside the park. While walking through a slope covered with Caragana bushes, we ran into a shepherd with almost two hundred sheep and goats. The deep ripples on his sun-tanned face spoke of the harsh elements that prevail in the area. When asked where the argalis was in the area, he said 'during the summer they use the highest pastures, feeding on Delphinium, but it goes down during the winter. '
As we approached Tibles camp, it was raining. Fortunately, our tents had already been set up by the camp kids, so we took a nap after we got there. The hissing sound of raindrops falling on the canvas tent was a perfect lullaby. Tea chops and vegetables were soon served.
The next day, thick fog consumed us as we climbed the slope above the field. When the fog cleared I saw five bharals, just a stone's throw away. They grazed and asserted their rank intermittently. Hiding, I sat in a muddy place and called my colleagues who were resting on a spur below. But the animals fled before glimpsing. As we limped to find them, the clouds burst again and, beaten by the rain, we mixed under an umbrella. As we reached the field, the tangle of clouds cleared and the sun shone again. The rest of the day was spent drying wet clothes, reading books and playing cards.
However, the most exciting part of the trip was climbing a peak near the Stok glacier. One morning after a light breakfast we left the camp. Around noon we rested on a beautiful panoramic point and we explored the valley in search of animals. We spotted a group of bharals perched on a slope across the valley. On the way back, we came across a shaggy yak standing nonchalantly on the edge of a small lake. Yak is rare in this part of Ladakh. Unlike eastern Ladakh, where people use them for transportation, the yaks are only kept here for breeding. As we approached the camp, the clouds gathered again and poured into the night. Many of us curled up in sleeping bags drenched in puddles of rainwater, but got up in a good mood in the morning and returned to Leh.
