“Yep, a dozen Gulmarg locals – bearded Muslim guys like Shabir, Anwar, Maqbool, Ahad and Bashir – led by two volunteer snow safety officers from Treble Cone. But these guys only control the one main bowl under the gondola. Every other bowl along the 14,000ft ridge of Mt Affarwhat is outside the ski area boundary.”
“So you need to have a transceiver, probe, shovel and experience in using them to perform a rescue, safe route-finding knowledge and you should ski in a group and go one at a time. And it’s best to take a local Kashmiri ski guide who can help with gondola tickets, translation, organise taxi pick-up at the village 6000ft below, route-finding through the forest and river valley, and recommend where to get the best Kashmiri food for lunch!”
I’d always loved hot spicy Indian food … that was it, I was ready to go.
We flew Qantas through Sydney and Singapore to Delhi where we overnighted, soaking up the hospitality of a people known as the Italians of Asia. Next day Kashmir’s capital Srinagar beckoned through our Kingfisher Airline’s window as the wing tip skimmed the Himalayan Ranges that ringed the valley below.
At Srinagar Airport a new terminal was under construction, aimed at catering for the growing number of travellers attracted by the natural beauty of the “Jewel in the Crown of India”. The pine forest parks, meadows of flowers, streams and rivers, and Himalayan views are truly gorgeous.
We registered with the tourist police and were soon on the 45km highway to Gulmarg, ski bags strapped to the roof of a decrepit white Tata taxi. The highway was also undergoing major works to widen it to four lanes, inspiring chaotic crowding, horn tooting and perilous overtaking manoeuvres that narrowly avoided head-on collision.
Unfortunately, rubbish was everywhere – they didn’t seem to have tidy Kiwi habits – but once we arrived at the 8500ft Gulmarg Village it was all buried under a pristine white blanket of fresh snow.
At the Kiwi House, Tariq, our cook and servant, brought us hot lemon-honey-ginger tea and lit the bakari fires to warm our four-bedroom, four- bathroom house. We had 100 satellite channels of Bollywood and Hindi dance music and a large front sunroom, overlooking the snow-covered golf course, in which to store all our skis and boards. Even better, we were only a five-minute walk from the gondola.
Nineteen-year-old Tariq was learning to snowboard on a donated Ride Yukon 164cm powder board. Like all Kashmiri men he was lean and strong, especially at altitude. The day before, he had gone to the top of the gondola at 14,000 feet for the first time, riding a powder ridge and steep shoulder off the side of Mt Affarwhat – 3000 vertical feet – back to the mid station. No problem!
Next morning After a bucket bath – a large bucket of boiling water, a running cold tap, and a large white tiled bathroom with drain hole and squat stool – he brought us porridge, scrambled eggs, spicy rajma beans, pirata, tea, and a smile. The loud speakers at the mosque echoed the mullah’s reading from the Koran calling the Muslim faithful to prayer before dawn.
“How many runs today, Tariq?” I asked. “Twenty to Tangmarg, eight to Babareshi, three Monkey Hill and Mt Affarwhat Shark Fin hiking two times.”
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Article courtesy of Snow Centre NZ.