Saturday 20 November 2010

Robber's Cave

Training with Koenig takes place six days a week, taking a break on Sundays. However as I’m not doing any certification (for which a day is usually assigned for each course) Dheeraj and myself have agreed to move that “empty” day to Saturday, enabling us both to take the whole weekend. It doesn’t make much difference to me as I’m not going to do anything over a period of two days but Dheeraj’s is from Dehradun and this way he can go and spend the whole weekend with them instead of just staying in the apartments near the training centre.

The Robber’s Cave was a recommendation from Dheeraj for “those people liking the nature”. So, found it on a map (Google Maps is wrong about its location) and decided, can’t be that far. The Country House is on the small left spur below the IAS Officer’s Colony and the Robber’s Cave is flag no 4.
From Dheeraj’s description, which includes raptors on the clifftops, I figure to take most of my gear so after a hearty breakfast of chocolate rice pops I saddle up my front & back packs and start hoofing it (sorry, writing this quite quickly ‘cos I want to get to bed and spent ages getting some pics sorted). I have a rough idea of where I’m going and set off.

A few direction/bottle of cold fizzy stops later and I find myself at the entrance of the Robber’s Cave. It costs me a full 10 rupees to get in (that’s about 15p) and as I’m taking a few pics I get asked to take some of a guy whose name I forget but whose email I have to mail him the pics – the guy with the ESTD 1992 jumper and jeans.
I next meet three guys, two cousins and a friend, who offer me chai (sweet milky tea) and an omelette. Jolly decent of them. I then paid the café owner another 10 rupees to hire a pair of flip flops (he allows me to leave my boots, coat & backpack – minus camcorder – he was cool) and I kind of follow the three amigos into the Robber’s Cave.




Walking against the current I mostly paddle but at times I’m wading up to my knees through a narrow fissure down which this river is running. The water is pleasantly warm and its great fun walking it. I take photos and shoot some video as I go.










About 700m in you reach a small climb, which my flip flops tackle confidently – the rocks are grippy and not at all slippery – and I get a vantage point to watch a group of guys have a whale of a time dunking/swimming in the fast flowing base of a small waterfall that drops down the chasm above.





I next have a more challenging climb up – my camcorder slung over my back and my DSLR in my front pack, so at least I’m balanced – onto more rock, over a curved wall and down to the top of the chasm. Another young lad encourages and helps me across and keeps remarking how I’m such a big guy and how we’re only 5’8”! My three amigos follow me and I continue up the river.



This is where it started getting… concerning. I stepped up a large stepping rock and had gone a metre or so along the now flatter river bed when as I stepped forward my flip flop flip flopped and fell into the river. SHIT! I made a lunge, then a second, trying not to dunk either camera I missed it. CRAP! I quickly headed back, down the step and towards the chasm to head of the flip flop. If that sucker goes down I am definitely “Up the creek without a … well, flip flop”! The step-up rock has caused a small waterfall, well it’s not a waterfall but I don’t know what they’re called, but anyway this has caused a pool and an area of calm water before the river continues for another maybe 10-12 metres before tumbling down through the chasm.

I splash across to the opposite “shore”, not drop but place (rather quickly though) my cameras on the gravel up away from the water and head back into the stream of water where I can scan for my flip flop. No stop, back. Take off my other one, for godsakes don’t lose that one as well. Left and right, left and right I scan moving my gaze closer to the tumbling water where I saw my flip flop go over but I haven’t seen it since. I am convinced that I did NOT see it go past and towards the chasm. It has to be there. Shit am I in bother if I don’t find it. Do I see it? It’s difficult to tell. Like a flipped dolphin the thing is white on top, blue underneath and the water is a cloudy greenish colour as it gushes over the rock. I see flotsam bobbing about and churning around. If I’m lucky it’s there but how the hell am I going to get it. It seemed to sink when it disappeared. Was that it just being dragged by the flow? Surely flip flops float?

Where water tumbles down and makes a pool it’s usually pretty deep. I edge towards the tumultuous waters. It’s getting a little deeper but only just over my knees, however the stones between my now bare feet are shifting. Some of them are sharp –this is what’s in store for me if I don’t find it – and I shuffle them away until I feel some better and more stable stones. The water is gouging its way underneath the big rock wall and I think, was that, no. You can’t see properly YES it is I’ve friggin’ seen it. It’s disappeared again but I friggin’ well saw it. OK, how long do I wait, is it going to eventually float out? How much light have I got left? When it gets dark, it gets dark quickly. Just before three O’clock, hmm, OK. I can lean over and touch the rock under which it is now looping endlessly with some leaves and sticks. I make a grab but I just splash. I just need to reach a little further. I lunge and grab hold of … a stick. A stick! Yes. Let’s go fishing – oh gawd. My mind races back to a River Monsters program I saw about giant catfish in this small South American river that were living in these occasional deep pools and eating cows and stuff! Poke, splash, I hook it. Then I grab it and Yes, YEs, YES !

A wave of relief drops through my body and I return to my cameras and lone flip flop. I pick up my gear and slip my flip flops back on. No, it slips off I again, but this time I catch it. They end up in my big side pockets. I decide that I’ll move a bit further upstream as it constantly looks interesting just around the next corner. Except now I’ll go barefoot.

I reach another open to the sky area where after a quick chat with some more students (they’re interested in my cameras as they’re animation students) I sit and decide I need to go back. I need my flip flops for the climbing and so daren’t risk losing them but after nearly two hours in the water I realise I’m in danger of ripping my wrinkled water softened skin and that wouldn’t be good. So I head back.


I soon reach the chasm and as I step up out of the water onto the sharper drier rocks I reach for my flip flops and with a strong confident grip they go onto my feet. There’s about three metres of flat and even dusty rock and some loose stones before the edge of the chasm. I tighten the straps on my camcorder, slung over my back – I’ve taken the microphone off and put it in my closed up camera body pack – and stand at the edge. It’s not a big gap. I’ve already been over it, but then I was going from the wall ledge onto the flatter rock space where I’m now standing and I was pulled over by the 5’8” guy.

The first thing I do is think whether I make my “leap” with or without flip flops. Would I have been better off with my boots, my trainers, my river-walking rubber shoes, a companion? Honestly. I now cannot remember if I left them on or not. Next is where am I going to step? From where am I going to step? OK, from there so can I still reach that, no not leaving on that foot. What are my hands going to do? The rock roofing the chasm is the target but it’s a slight overhang. I breathe. I’m getting worried. I’ve chosen my leaving and landing point. I’ll need to scrabble a little to make sure. (I think now I must have kept my flip flops off, the risk of losing them and slipping with them as I land and scrabble would have made me take them off, but that’s reasoning, not remembering.)

This is my parachute moment. It’s time to jump out of the plan boy. One. Two. The consequence thought briefly flits into my mind, but I push it away quickly. There is no consequence. Just a step THREE. I’m still there. Still waiting STRETCH I’m across and scrabbling and good job I took those flip flops off. I scramble up the wall to just get me away from that edge and then I stop. I realise now just how really properly scared that made me. As I climb down the other side of the wall and it’s not over yet. I start shaking, but it passes. I don’t have any drink with me and my mouth has just dried up.

The remaining climb downs are a little fraught but pass fairly straightforwardly. I do wish I’d done rock climbing when I was younger ‘cos I have real difficulty going down backwards and decide I just have to pick out paths suitable to sit descend and they’re gentle enough for me to make it.

The trek back is always shorter than the one out and apart from the three girls who first passed me then came playfully screaming back up the river shouting “snake snake” I didn’t see one and figure that the flow is strong enough to keep it away – I hope – and don’t see anything!

Getting late now, so being quick. I retrieve my gear from the café owner – in earlier conversation he told me he was taken with my camo gear. He now tells me he used to be in the Indian Army but retired and took over the café here. He failed his entry for the British Army because he couldn’t wink, but his grandfather served in the British forces and an uncle holds the Victoria Cross – respect!

I walk back. At least I know the way now. It’s hot. I’m hot. My feet ache and then start to hurt. I shoot some discrete video with my 7D and stop every so often to rest. When I do get home I’ve covered nearly 20km by my reckoning and my shoulders kill.



I didn’t get to use my tripod. Not this time.

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