The Trek to Patta Fort

By: Sanjeev

Day 1 – Friday

It had been a hectic week at work, and Bombay’s crowded concrete jungle and pollution was getting on my nerves. The hot and humid weather outside, contrasted by the strong blast of cold air-conditioning inside the company, made my sweaty shirt stick on my back, and it felt oddly cool. This was not something I looked forward to after being trapped in a cubicle, programming away on some boring software project.

I called up couple of friends who always loved adventure, had nothing to care about other than which mountain to go to on the weekend. There were many choices, Bombay being surrounded by the rugged Sahyadris (mountain range of volcanic origin). Every mountain had a personality of its own along with a long history.

Many a king had built his fort on top of these mountains, while some had ancient caves in which monks from yesteryear had meditated and kept alive the torch of spirituality. Some had perennial source of water, while others were dry as a bone.

Sawai and Yogu were always enthusiastic for a trek. Sawai was the heavier of the two; not much acclimatized to hiking yet, but had a good spirit. Yogu was a thin one, with infinite stamina to climb any mountain effortlessly.

As usual, I went home that Friday evening, discarded the professional bullshit, and put on my tattered jeans which felt lot more comfortable, along with my worn out sneakers.

We met at a small restaurant in the evening, had hot spicy dinner and some beer, and went to the train terminus to catch the long-distance trains that took one out of Bombay. We traveled light – just small backpacks carrying water bottles, a meal for next day and newspapers.

Trains from the terminus go along two separate routes while heading out of Bombay. One route goes to Karjat, while the other one goes to Kasara. Both these destinations form the starting points for many a hike.

It was a matter of tossing a coin to decide which destination to go to, and Kasara came out to be the winner. So we waited for the last train to depart to Kasara. At 11:30 pm at night, trains don’t get as crowded as during the day hours. One can actually breathe inside the compartments, and if lucky, even find some seats to sit. We were lucky that night. The journey to Kasara was quite nice, with the hot humid air of the day having changed to somewhat cool and refreshing.

After couple of hours we got down on the desolate station of Kasara. It was dark, and there was not much we could do, other than lie down on some benches and try to catch a nap. The mosquitoes and bugs were in an active mood though, and after a few minutes I just decided to sit up, and look around.

A freight train pulled into a platform opposite ours, and we started wondering if we can go any further than our current destination. So we crossed the tracks and went up to the driver of the train, and asked him if we could hitch a ride on the train to another destination along his way. He asked us to hop over and allowed us to sit on the open deck in front of the engine.

The next couple of hours were most memorable. The dark sky with no moon, just stars, coupled with the deep ravines along the way, and the breezy open space to look out from on a moving train was quite fascinating.

 

Day 2 – Saturday

Early in the dawn we arrived at our final destination – Asangaon. We thanked the train driver, jumped down from the open deck, and started our trek.

The way to the base of the mountain on which Patta Fort was built, was through a village, and we were happy to find a road-side restaurant which was open that early in the morning to serve us tea and biscuits. After drinking couple of cups of tea, we were on our way, energetic as ever, though none of us had slept the night before.

The sun came up pretty fast, changing the cool dawn into a warm morning. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, telling us that the day was going to be hot and dry. Since we had traveled quite far away from the ocean around Bombay, the air here was dry, not humid.

After about 10 miles we reached the base of the mountain. The real trail started from there. Sawai had not expected to walk so long, and though he seemed ok, I was becoming aware that he was going to have a hard time going all the way. Yogu on the other hand I didn’t have to worry about. He just never got tired, or so it seemed.

The trail from that point forward was unusually tough. First, there were no markers to point in the right direction (very few trails in India do). Second, since the cattle growers grazed their cattle in that vicinity, there seemed to be many offshoots to the trail, and it wasn’t clear which one was the main trail. So we pushed on based on what we thought was the main trail.

After getting lost couple of times, ending up into places which had nothing but scree and hostile terrain, we asked some herdsman about the path to the fort. All native villagers have a peculiarity – they always point you in a general direction, giving you landmarks that you would never find, and when you ask them how much time would it take to reach the destination, they simply say "oh, not very long". This sense of time is little bit unnerving to city folks like us, especially when you are not sure if you will be able to find the right trail and stay on it till reaching the destination. But that is part of the adventure!

So we traveled along, gasping at some majestic mountain peaks around us, but always moving forward, pushed by the sense of urgency to reach the destination before dark.

The dry rugged terrain was scorching under the bright overhead sun now. There was only limited water in our backpacks, and we had almost exhausted our supply. The single meal we had brought with us had long since been finished. Sawai was making frequent stops, though he appeared to be the strongest of us all. Yogu on the other hand didn’t give a damn how long it would take to reach – he just kept looking, taking in the beauty around us.

All of a sudden, just when we thought the heat was going to make it impossible to go further up the mountain, clouds started gathering in the sky – dark black clouds filled with rain. It was a miracle! Pretty soon the first few drops of rain started scattering on the hot thirsty earth, filling the air with beautiful smell of dust pacified with moisture.

The showers brought with them the most amazing marvel – a rainbow – a large bright beautiful one! We were awestruck by its splendor. It washed away all the tiredness that had settled on us, and invigorated us with energy that seems to get created by beauty in nature. Suddenly all of us were talking excitedly, joking and laughing about various things in life.

The trail changed rapidly too. Instead of a dry open terrain, the trail started winding through a dense forest. There was shade and greenery, but dusk was approaching fast. So we picked up our pace knowing that it would be wiser to reach the top before it got dark. After about an hour or so, we got through the woods, arriving at a plateau on which was a small village. Boy, were we glad to see those man-made houses or what! They were actually huts made of mud, with some metal sheets for a roof.

There were 3-4 local villagers sitting idle and chatting on the steps of a single storied building. When they saw us, they stopped their discussion, and stared at us "city folks" wearing jeans and shoes. The differences in economic strata of the society become real obvious in situations like these. The villagers often wear soiled - yet white colored – cotton clothes, with slippers on their feet. Kids often are partially naked, runny noses, no shoes or slippers. But they are curious, and stare back at you intently.

We walked over to the locals and laid down our backpacks on the steps of the building. Sawai heaved a sigh of relief and immediately sat down and rested against a wall. Yogu and me chatted with the locals, telling them where we came from, how the hike was, and so on. The locals soon figured that we were tired, needed some food and a place to stay.

In remote villages like these, there are no hotels, electricity or campgrounds. One has to actually make friends with the locals, request some food and shelter in exchange for something of value to them. Even the concept of "paying money" for these things has to be dealt with carefully since the local villagers are not necessarily running a "business" of some sort. They are allowing you to stay with them, and share their food with you.

I had some experience in dealing with these situations. It didn’t take long to figure out who the leader of that community was. I asked him if we could spend the night in that village. He seemed like a friendly guy, and sent a small kid to his mom with the message for cooking some extra food for dinner.

The next thing was to find a place to sleep. I discovered that the building we were sitting at was in fact a school. It was one large hall in which multiple primary grade classes were held. Being educated in a school which had separate classrooms for every class, this concept of having multiple classes in one hall was a little bit confusing. I wondered how it affected the quality of education, and if they were actually going to make it in life.

The locals allowed us to sleep in the school for the night, which was quite a relief for me. On other hikes I had stayed in the houses of local villagers, and the buffaloes and cows that are often tied inside the house make it a bit noisy to sleep. Not to speak of the ticks and other bugs which irritate you at night. Compared to all that, the school’s space seemed a lot cleaner and comfortable.

When dinner got ready, we were invited into the house. All of us were hungry as hell. It didn’t matter what our hosts had to offer. As it turned out, they had cooked some hot and spicy stuff, which was a few shades hotter than what we city folks were used to eating. All of us squatted on the floor in a circle, along with our host and his kids, while his wife served the food. I ate the food with delight, enjoying the unique taste of being cooked on clay ovens and wood fuel. The rough bread, raw onions and green chilies and the unique "masala" of the curry was very satisfying indeed. I noticed Yogu gulping down too much water while eating, but he didn’t utter a word.

After the dinner, I called one of the kids over and asked him about his school, and the games he played. He was shy and didn’t speak very much, but he had dark big eyes which looked at me curiously. I slipped some money into his hand "for buying sweets" later, against the protests of his parents. It was a polite way of keeping the exchange in for the food they offered us. Offering to pay the parents directly might have hurt their pride a little, and I didn’t want to take any chances.

We went to the school hall, ready to crash for the night, and spread the newspapers on the floor to lie on. We never bothered to carry sleeping bags and other luxuries on hikes. A thin blanket in winter season was the most we carried. Sawai fell asleep quickly, he being the most tired of us, while Yogu and I decided to walk around a bit to check things out.

It was a new moon night, which meant there would be some religious happenings in the temple. We could hear some singing going on, accompanied by the beat of drums and other instruments. The locals were singing in offbeat rustic voices, pouring their devotion to millions of gods that exist in Indian culture. It always made me wonder how come the gods never seemed to improve the schools in the village, or maybe having a school itself was the greatest gift god had to give. We strolled around keeping our distance, and taking in the lifestyle these people lived in. It was quite basic. No electricity, no roads, no movie theaters, and not much to compare to the city life I was so accustomed to.

We sauntered back to the school to catch a good night’s sleep. The next day would be another adventure, since the Patta Fort was visible from this village. It was sitting majestically on the top of the mountain with its fortification of huge slabs of black rocks.

 

Day 3 – Sunday

We woke up refreshed early in the morning, brushed our teeth, and went to a local tea stall to get our morning tea. We bought some eatables to carry us through the rest of the day.

The trail to the fort was thin, intermingled with grazing trails made by the local cattle. It was confusing to say the least. I took what seemed like a short-cut trail, while Yogu and Sawai took the long-winding trail. Within half-an-hour I was at the base of a 50 feet wall that marked the outer perimeter of the fort. There were no doors to enter, and I was standing on a thin trail with steep slope going downhill. I had obviously taken the wrong route, but had no intention to go back and catch up with other guys. That would have been a waste of time.

So I decided to climb the wall and see what lay beyond. The wall had some holes in it that I could use to climb up, and though I was no expert rock climber, I wanted to give it a shot. Carefully I climbed 20-30 feet, using every crack in the wall I could as a hold. I reached a point where I could a small landing area, enough to sit on and catch my breath. My hands were getting tired, not being accustomed to rock climbing. The drop below me didn’t seem very pleasant either, and I knew it would be 10 times harder to go back down, than going up. I wanted to continue upward, but there were no more cracks that would enable me to reach the landing area. Actually there was another crack a little high above, out of my immediate reach, but that meant I would have to violate the basic principle of safe rock-climbing – which is that one needs to have 3 stable points to hang on to, either two hands and one foot, or one hand and two feet. To reach the next crack, I would have to push myself with my two feet, hang on to right hand, and hope to catch the crack with my left. My feet would be dangling for a while. I didn’t have any other alternative, so I did what I had to do.

I did manage to catch on to the next crack, and madly scraped my feet against the wall to catch some hold, which somehow I managed to get. Next step was to get on to the landing area. So I pushed up and caught the edge of the landing area with my right hand, and slowly came up to the level. I looked at the surface to make sure it was safe, and almost went off-balance when I saw a long scaled white skin shed by a snake. At least the snake wasn’t around in sight. So I heaved myself up, caught my breath, and looked at the beautiful view of the village and farmlands down the slope.

It was relatively easy climb beyond the landing area. That area was built on purpose it seems, and there were small steps leading to the top of the wall. When I reached the top, there were stairs leading down on the other side which led inside the fort. It was a magnificent architecture. I waited for an hour or so for Yogu and Sawai to catch up, strolling around the fort, examining various parts of it, and admiring the beauty of mountains all around it. Whoever built this fort had chosen a good vantage point to observe movement to enemy troops from a far distance.

After Yogu and Sawai joined me, we spent another hour touring the fort, studying historical artifacts, commenting on the cannons and storage places, and so on.

It was then time to go back. We had to hurry since we had to catch a train back to Bombay that evening and the last train left at 8 pm or so. We took the long winding route since it was safer. The trek back was boring – I always hate the part when I have to go back to "normal" life. It took many hours of continuous walking, but there was no time to complain. We reached the village we had come through on Day 1, ate some food, and ran to the train station just in time to see the last train pulling in.

And so the trek to Patta Fort was completed. The next day I would have to don my civilized clothes and get back to my work, sitting in my cubicle with sticky shirt and cold air-conditioning.

 

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