Dzukou: A Beauty and A Beast
I don’t know if this tale is one of recklessness or of courage, but it most definitely is a tale we won’t ever forget. It narrates the incidents that took place on our trip to Dzukou valley, in the heart of Nagaland. Capitalizing on the luxury of a long weekend, we decided to pack our bags and head on over to one of most scenic treks we’d heard of. In hindsight, I realize there were a few signs we should’ve paid heed to, to have avoided the unfortunate series of events that befell us. Nonetheless, I won’t give any more spoilers now; let’s start from the beginning.
The day before the trek
Since the inception of the idea, we started out by planning for the trip – confirming who all were going, what necessities to carry, train bookings and so on. After a few friends dropped out of the plan, eventually, it was the four of us that were ready to go. Stuffing our bags with food, water and warm clothes, we boarded our train from Guwahati for an overnight journey to Dimapur. I’m not sure if it was the chilly night or the excitement that made me shiver, but I remember thinking how this experience would be so memorable. I was not disappointed.
The day of the trek
Kohima, Nagaland
At the break of dawn, we arrived at Dimapur in Nagaland. We then had a 3-hour long, winding ride through the Naga Hills in our compact, Kohima-bound cab. Making minimal stops on the way, we finally reached the starting point of our trek at half past ten in the morning. Despite our taxi driver urging us to take a local guide for the trek, confident in our abilities, we decided to go on without one; an action we would later regret.
The first hour
Picture Courtesy: Sudarshan Kamath
Tightening our shoe laces, checking our fitness trackers and strapping our bags on tight, we began our trek up along the side of a mountain. A gurgling stream ran on the side of the gradually sloping, gravel laden path making our trek scenic from the very start. After a few hundred metres into the trek, the path forked into two – one consisting of steep stone steps and another similar to the gravel path we had walked on earlier. From what our friends had told us, the steeper path was shorter, but much tougher, so we had all agreed to take the longer, easier route when we had discussed earlier. However, at the fork sat a group of men, (hunters, we later found out) with about a dozen dogs surrounding them. When we asked them which way to take for Dzukou valley, they told us to take the steeper route, accompanied with the ominous warning – “No matter which route you take, you won’t be able to reach today.” We were quite surprised, since we knew the trek was about 5-6 hours long and given that it was not too late in the morning, we’d definitely make it before sunset. A little uneasy with their warning, we, however, decided to take the shorter route instead of the longer one, deviating from our earlier plan. The trail was breathtakingly beautiful, lined with vibrant green trees and small brooks, engulfed in the mountains. In the case that the view didn’t steal our breaths, the climb up those steep steps sure did! Imagining that we have to continue on the same path for four to five more painful hours really made me shudder, but I was looking forward to seeing the lush green “Valley of Flowers” I’d seen many pictures of the past week.
The second hour
Continuing up the arduous path we had so unwillingly chosen, we passed many wonderful sights of nature - leaves, branches and rocks, twisting and bending in ways unseen before - all of which made picture perfect backgrounds! The signs of civilisation, were slowly fading as we soldiered on. With periodic breaks for catching our breaths and refuelling ourselves with energy snacks and water, we continued, falling into a steady rhythm of climbing those cold, stone stairs. Emerging from the thick forest, we then reached a dried out river bank, marked with huge boulders and loose rocks – the beginning of the worst day of our lives. So energetic and excited were we, that we assumed the trek was to be continued by climbing up those massive boulders to get to the top. Completely oblivious to the fact, that the trail actually continued with stairs that lay on the other side of the bank, we deviated from the trail path, unaware that the “tough” trek didn’t actually comprise of really strenuous rock climbing!
The third hour
Picture Courtesy: Yash Gandhe
As we continued up our ultra-steep rock climbing expedition, the boulders got bigger and harder to climb, stretching our muscles and endurance to their limits. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline rush, the euphoria or just our overconfidence, but we failed to realise that this couldn’t possibly be the actual trekking trail as it was getting very risky and dangerous. The rocks were also lined with poisonous plants and thorny creepers which left our hands and faces with burning rashes and shallow scratches. With the risk of falling or slipping being prominent, we started using all our limbs to climb up, our muscles burning and our breathing ragged. Our enthusiasm, however, refused to die out, and whenever we looked down at how far up we’d come, we couldn’t help but feel exultant. Surrounded by the raw beauty of the forest, in the heart of the beast that is Dzukou, we felt exhilarated. Although the treacherous climb made us refrain from taking too many pictures, we still managed to sneak a few in to capture our victory. This was the last batch of photos we took; after which things took a turn for the worse.
The fourth hour
The route became tougher as the altitude increased, with very acute slopes and fewer footholds. The stakes became higher, too, as one wrong step could lead us skidding down the slope and hitting the rocks below, hurting ourselves gravely. We then looked up to see the next phase of our trek, only to stop dead in our tracks. There were no signs of the river bed anymore, no more boulders to climb, just a huge, dark grey monolith looming over us. We started to panic, dreading that we might be lost. To figure a way out of this, we split into two. Two of us started exploring the forested area beside us, trying to find a new route we could take ahead, while two of us frantically tried calling our friends who’d been there, to ask for directions. After numerous attempts being foiled by poor cell service, a call finally got through, albeit for a few seconds. With no distinguishing characteristics, there was no way to describe our surrounding in a detailed way, so our adviser assumed we’re on the actual trail instead of the untraveled path we were on, and quickly gave us directions, before the call dropped and we lost service again. Coincidentally, after going in the direction we were told to, we found a way back to the river bed, going around the monolith through the forest. The way was completely makeshift and highly unsafe. At moments we were sliding on steep slopes or loose gravel, frantically grasping at anything to hold onto, to stop before falling over. We even had to use unreliable tree branches as handholds, which could’ve snapped at any point, dropping us down the almost vertical slope we were on, ending our journey forever. Steeling our minds against fear and doubt, we took the leaps of faith and ultimately re-joined the river bed. Unfortunately, our relief was very short-lived. Just quarter of an hour later, we were staring at a vertical cliff right in front of us, impossible to climb. We were so close, just about 30 feet shy of the top. Fate was teasing us. Staring at the cliff with disbelief, we now were certain. We were lost. Completely frazzled from our four-hour trek, we started to cry for help, each cry louder and more desperate than the previous, but to no avail. There was no one there to hear our cries, no one to help us.
The fifth hour
We were in shock. We’d been trekking for over four hours, only to find out that we were lost. Slumped on the rocks, overcome with despair, our muscles loaded with fatigue, we couldn’t even begin to contemplate what our bleak future looked like. As much as we hated to admit it, we knew that there was only one option for us, really – to go back down. Reluctant to believe that we now had another four or five hours to climb back down, down this horrible path, we hopelessly started our journey back. The change in the atmosphere was palpable. No jokes, no photos, no songs, we hardly even spoke on our way down. The climb up had seemed really tough, but in hindsight, climbing down was much worse. The slippery gravel made the slopes treacherous, especially on the edges of vertical drops, where the slightest loss in concentration could cost us with our lives. In case one of us got injured by a rock shaken loose by another, we kept safe distance between each of two members, the loneliness making us weaker.
The sixth hour
Our muscles had given up. Slips, falls, cuts and bruises were all too common and we were too numb to even wince anymore. The sunlight started to fade, even earlier as we were in the depths of the valley. The beauty of the wild forest we had once appreciated, now seemed ghastly. Realising how these rocks would be very dangerous to climb down in the dark, we tried to quicken our pace, but our hands and legs were too sore and refused to oblige. As best as we could, we continued onward, trudging from rock to rock, down the endless river bed we had so triumphantly climbed up. We did not even stop to eat or drink. Our clothes soiled and torn, our hands and face covered in dirt, hopelessness in our eyes; we had become shadows of ourselves now.
The seventh hour
Darkness was creeping in with every minute that passed. The beast was tightening his grip on us, squeezing our breath out gradually, suffocating us. We took out our phones and torches, rationing our use to save battery for later. Being able to see only what the flashlights illuminated, our range of sight was very limited. The forest slowly became noisier. Rustling leaves and chirping crickets made our fears worsen. Who knew which animals resided in these woods! The quiet had made our hearing heightened and every sound, however soft, made us flinch. Something else seemed odd, too. The rocks we were climbing down, seemed very unfamiliar. There were steep descents and nearly 10 feet jumps which we clearly recalled not being there. It was then, that we realised – we had missed the turn to re-join the trail, and had continued further down the river bed instead. With our limited eyesight and loss in concentration, we had failed to spot the point where we had deviated from the main trail. We were lost, yet again.
The eighth hour
Despair. Fear. Fatigue. The beast was overpowering us, he was winning. The flood of emotions had broken down all our mental barriers and we were now soaked in them. We were at an impasse. We could not climb back up; we were too tired and we had no guarantee that we would find the path this time either. We also didn’t know whether continuing down would lead us to safety. The drops in the rocks were getting dangerously taller and there was also a possibility of hitting a dead end going further down. We tried our phones, with the bleak hope of getting cell service, thinking that maybe calling 100 for help might be our only option now. Fortunately, the call connected. With our hearts in our mouths, we waited and waited, but no one answered. Then the call dropped and we lost cell service again. That was our last shot, and we blew it. We then began crying for help, yet again, straining our voices, shouting at the top of our lungs, the urgency evident in our cries. Minutes passed by as we continued crying out, but we eventually stopped, the futility of our attempts sinking in. And then we heard it. Someone shouting back.
The ninth hour
Relief came washing over. We yelled back, unable to believe that someone actually had responded to our frantic cries. They shined their torches towards us to guide us to them. Our pace quickened, we even tripped on a few rocks in the hurry to get to safety but nothing mattered anymore except escaping this godforsaken place. We finally met our saviours – two animal hunters, with hunting guns and all. We narrated our story and thanked them for saving our lives, our gratitude immense. They chuckled, playfully chided us for taking the wrong turn and showed us the way back to the trail. Our rescuers were really thoughtful, periodically reminding us to slow our pace down in the interest of not slipping due to fatigued muscles. We finally reached a point where we could see the familiar stone steps again. There was a short landing with a few boulders to sit on just beside the trail. Seeing how we were still shaking in shock, the hunters made us rest for a few minutes, to have some water and regain our composure. For the first time since we started climbing down, I glanced up. Standing at the edge of the landing, I stared in awe at the glittering blanket of stars that was spread out above us. I had heard that the night sky in Dzukou was beautiful, but I knew that the appreciation I felt in that moment was not just for the scintillating sky. Staring at the twinkling stars, a warm tear rolled down my cheek; in that moment, I realised, we had finally tamed the beast.
Picture Courtesy: Amogh Shankar Gupta
