Shadows in the dusk: an eerie encounter with the mountain ghost

It was freezing cold inside the tent when Takpa opened the outer zipper. As I looked out of the sleeping bag, a blast of cold air hit me and I resolved to huddle back again. Whistling gleefully, he shoved in a mug of steaming black tea and went away. He knew my weakness for tea and knew that I would not deny a cup even at 4:30 AM. Within ten minutes our camp was buzzing with activity and by 5:30 AM two of our teams consisting of three people each were all set to leave after a quick breakfast of unsavory noodles and packed lunch of vegetable sandwich.

Spiti river with its turquoise, crisp water

We had a long day ahead and it made perfect sense to leave early to be able to return back to the camp before nightfall.  Each of the team had to find and deploy camera traps at three to four good locations with a direct distance of at least 6 kilometers between any two. Sushil and Tenzin accompanied me and we had a good head-start. The soft light of the morning sun brought much needed warmth and the marvelous mountain peaks emerged from the shadows, providing a scenic splendor that can only be experienced. Getting up early in the morning had its own little rewards I mused, as nature unfolded one treasure after the other. 

We started encountering snow leopards signs soon as we trudged along on a ridgeline. Full of scats, scrapes and scent marks, it was a good location to deploy a camera trap.

Signature of the ghost: snow leopard pugmark

Signature of the ghost: Snow leopard scat

Next we encountered a large group of about 70 blue sheep out of which we counted 25 yearlings. The pastures here seemed productive and blue sheep were doing well. Another two hours of walk brought us close to a dongri (a temporary summer settlement used for agricultural work) and another nice location to deploy a camera. All of us could smell the snow leopard scent on the rock and a portion had become dark with the consistent marking at the same site. Finally we reached the dongri and met the owner, an old man and a known face. Two years ago, when Sushil and I had lost our way in the mountains and reached this dongri just before dark, this old man had provided us with much needed shelter and food. He instantly recognized us and invited us in. We chatted for about an hour, sipped several cups of tea and ate barley mixed in butter and sugar. I ate the barley reluctantly as I didn’t like the taste very much. The old man quipped that I should be eating better given my age and the chatting continued. I ate a little more and we finally bid farewell and continued on our long journey. Little did I realize that the same barley would be a life saver that day by delaying the pangs of hunger. The third camera location took a long time to find and as we embarked towards the fourth, it was already 3 pm. 

A village in Spiti with Barley fields in the foreground

The base camp was still far away, but given our pace we were confident to make to the nearest village Demul by 8 pm. The camp was another 4-5 kilometers from the village. When we started encountering snow leopard signs again, I was happy that it would not be long before we found a good location. The narrow animal trail on the mountain slope lead to a deep gorge and the frequency of snow leopard signs increased as we moved further down. We could have deployed a camera trap here and moved back to our camp, but the gorge down looked too tempting and Sushil remarked that the gorge must be having some excellent snow leopard habitat. It was difficult to deny that and then the added allure of the possibility of encountering a snow leopard in a gorge was difficult to resist.

Soon we had left the trail aside and were climbing down the steep slopes of the gorge. With scarce foothold, it took much longer than expected, but we still reached the base of the gorge before it was dark. It was full of cliffs and rocky outcrops and our expectations for a great camera location and potentially a sighting were soaring high. However an hour of search proved futile and we could not find any snow leopard signs leave aside a sighting of a snow leopard. Eventually we decided to return back to the trail and place a camera there. It was already dark now and the steep uphill climb with dense thickets of caragyna was difficult to negotiate. Somewhere on the climb, we lost Tenzin and spent another 30 minutes searching for him. I feared for his safety, even though I knew he was an excellent climber and that I had more chances of tripping or slipping amongst our team members. It was a relief when my strained ears picked up the sound of a whistle coming from top. Tenzin had already reached the top and was waiting for us. The steep uphill climb after a day’s trekking took its toll and I was tired to the core.

Fading rays of the sun

Mount chochokanilta (>6000 meters) with its icy peak glistened in the distance even in the dark and its tall slumbering slopes dominated the broad sleeping valley. The stars twinkled brightly against a deep dark sky and occasionally a meteor would illuminate the sky momentarily leaving a blazing trail behind. It seemed as if nature was weaving some magic around, inducing a dream and a deep torpor, lulling me to stop and rest a while. I wanted to stop there and sleep, but we had a long way to go. We stopped by a stream to drink some water and eat what remained of our packed lunch. We had another fairly steep climb ahead. The biscuits and fresh water re-energized us and we started on the remaining part of the day’s journey. It was now pitch dark and with our headlights on, we trudged on at a slow but steady pace. This last part was proving increasingly difficult; the village was still good 2-3 kilometers of steep incline and my legs were refusing to move an inch. 

I stopped for some rest and Sushil and Tenzin joined soon. I stared at the slippery terrain ahead and across the gorge thinking of Takpa’s steaming mug of black tea and the comforts of a sleeping bag. Suddenly two eyes shone in the darkness and Sushil shouted snow leopard. In an instant we were running along the gorge to get a better view. I had forgotten that I was tired as I jumped recklessly from one ledge to the other. The cat hardly moved and we could not approach closer as it was separated from us by a treacherous gorge. In the combined light of three head torches and strained eyes stuck on binoculars, we could barely make out that it was a snow leopard. We spent about an hour watching the shadow and indistinct outline of the cat. I cursed myself for not having a long beam torch.

Future monarch of the mountains: A snow leopard cub

The excitement and adrenaline rush that the sighting provided was enough to push me up the steep incline and to the Demul village. The lights were off in most of the houses and an occasional incandescent lamp went off every now and then, further deepening the darkness around the sleepy village. Stray dogs barked at our unwelcome intrusion, while a lone donkey left out of the corral brayed loudly.

Surprisingly, a door opened in front of us and a generous villager invited us in for some tea and drinks. There was still another 4-5 kilometers to go and I chose the aarak (a local alcohol made from barley) over the bland milk tea. As I took the first sip, Tenzin remarked that the aarak was a bit sweetish and not the usual bitter and acrid. I did not answer as the strong liquor went down my throat leaving a trail of tingling and warm sensation along its path. But did the aarak actually taste sweeter that day? After our hazy encounter with the splendid snow leopard, I bet it did.

This work benefited greatly through support from Snow Leopard Trust, Snow Leopard Network, Whitley Fund for Nature, BBC Wildlife Fund, Panthera, Association of Zoo's and Aquariums and Himachal Pradesh Forest Department.  Their continued support for saving this magnificent cat, its mountain habitat and improving the livelihoods of communities sharing space with snow leopards is greatly appreciated.