Dodra - Kwar: Where Griffons Dare

 Dodra – Kwar is a very less known cultural region of Himachal. It is a narrow valley drained by River Rupin, and enclosed by loft ranges of middle and greater Himalayas. Last year, a jeep able road was completed, connecting this valley to Rohru. Prior to this, people of this valley travelled by foot or horseback to Rohru. The easier rout was to walk along the river and reach Netwar, a large village in Uttrakhand. Netwar is also the confluence of rivers Rupin and Tons. According to the folklore, this valley was a part of the kingdom of Tehri but was given in dowry to the princess who married King of Rampur Bushahr. Thus it became a part of Himachal.

The very idea of biking up to an unexplored region is very rib-tickling; so the plans are made well in advance and on 30^th May two of us load our bikes and scoot off. The rout we are to take is Chail, Kufri, Narkanda, Baggi, Khara Patthar, Rohru, Chanshal, Dodra and Kwar. The return is from Rohru to Hatkoti, Jubbal, Theog and Shimla back to Chandigarh. We turn from Kandhghat and drive on a narrow road zigzagging through verdant forest resonating with birdsong. We stop at a lay-by and savour wild plums listening to thrushes laughing in the undergrowth. A few Red Jungle fowls rummage in fallen leaves for grubs. Early morning start leaves us with enough time to stop at Chail palace and have a leisurely breakfast in royal ambiance. We drive on a road that snakes through beautiful pine forests with no traffic except a herd of tiny hill cows crossing the road. As we drive along a strong stench hits us like a wave, and we know we are near Kufri. The idly broken by the odour and noise of vehicles, tourists, guides and God knows what else. Riding through the horse manure and slush all the while dodging traffic is any day more gruelling than any glacial melt crossing, but we survive that and are on way to Narkanda. The road is wide and we can ride a little faster. As we cross Matiana, clouds start building up. It is lunch time but food is not in our minds. We race to Narkanda and just make it in time to the rest house before the skies open up. The views from Narkanda are majestic. We sit in the Hatu and have another lovely meal watching the rain fall. It is a long awaited rain, and every local person is happy. The joy is infective as it pervades the air. The rest house caretaker tells us that the spring and summers have been exceptionally dry and it has not rained since last week of March. “Now” he said, “we can plant maize and rice, and there shall be food”. So simple, but so true for majority of hill people whose lifeline is rain fed crops.


We start early for Bachaal, a friend’s village who happens to be a scion of the erstwhile rulers of this hill state. The road to Baggi is an eleven kilometre long pot hole, but after the turn to Khara Patthar it is a wonderful drive. The bad road is compensated by the magical view of snow clad peaks and apple orchards nestling on their lower slopes, forming a mind blowing backdrop over Thanedar. 

The road winds through thick forests teeming with birds. Every now and then we stop to take pictures of birds or simply watch them flitter in the branches.

 Soon we are sitting in Kuku Bhai’s veranda in Bachaal sipping tea and chatting. Cinnamon sparrows and streaked laughing thrushes keep us company. Paradise, Veridiet and Pied flycatchers pluck flying insects out of seemingly empty space and flutter back to their perches to enjoy the snack. We are taken to the sight of a new temple that is being constructed in the village and introduced to the master carver. 

This grand old man and his two sons are carving panels for the walls of the temple of local Devta. From here we ride on through Pujarli, famous for its Devi temple to Rohru. Rohru is perched on the banks of River Pabbar and is famous for its apples. We ride on and check into the rest house. It is on the banks of Pabbar and rill is audible in our room. We walk along the river watching birds and taking pictures. Light rain cools the heat but raises our anxiety levels as the road to Kwar is not metalled. It is just a ‘kuccha’ track carved out of mountain sides and motorable in dry weather only.

We make another early start for Kwar as the Engineer in-charge of the rest house tells us that the Chanshal Ghati (3750 m) must be crossed before noon as high velocity winds start blowing after 12 noon and it becomes impassable. The road beyond Tikri is a rocky strip carved out of hillside and in various stages of dressing up! Largely it is covered in loose sand which makes our bikes skid and fishtail all over the place and believe me there is not much of width if you exclude empty space. Mid Way to the pass there is a small village with one small dhaba where we get pitiful paranthas, deep fried in perhaps discarded engine oil and syrupy tea so common in hills. After a brief halt we move on and hit the forest belt. Giant trees standing tall but gaunt, greet us. The air is fragrant with pine breath. Coveys of Oriental Turtle doves walk the ramp for us as we shoot them with our cameras! 

The road condition deteriorates as we move towards the top of the mountain. At places small trickles have created slush which has to be navigated very carefully and leaves our bikes besmirched with mud. Our bikes labour up the dirt track and suddenly we are above the tree line. 

A vista of snow clad peaks dwarfs us. It is a very humbling experience.

 We reach the pass and it is really blowing a howler there. We quickly take a few pictures and ride behind the next bend to prevent being blown away and it is only 10 am! There is supposed to be a small dhaba up there but it seems to have been blown away too; as nearby there are ruins of a few smoke blackened walls without a trace of roof.

On the peak near the pass is a cairn of stones with a red flag, marking the shire of the god of Chanshal.

  A flock of sheep grazes on the meadow on the slopes of the shrine. Griffons ride the thermals in lazy circles as we look down in to the narrow valley of River Rupin, a part of Himalayas which till a few days back was inaccessible to any kind of motorised vehicle.

The next leg of journey is downhill for 24 kms and our riding skills are tested to their utmost because the road downhill is covered with small slabs of shale fixed with sharp edge upwards. Our motorcycles rocket down in teeth rattling bumps with an imminent fear of a burst tyre in this wilderness. The road is laid in a series of loops along the shoulder of the mountain and there are more turns than famous Gata Loops. As we snake our way down, the first village of this famed valley bursts into view – Village Dodra (2450 m). 

It is a breathtaking sight. There is a small tea shop where we stop and start talking to the local people. They are delighted at the road connectivity. They point out the famous Sacred Groves of Jhakh Devta, their local god. These forests are famous for musk deer, monal, tragopans, chukors, Himalayan black bears, brown bears, leopards and snow leopards. We did not see any of the above except a solitary jackal slinking in the undergrowth a few kms beyond Dodra. The village is a cluster of multi-storey houses built in the typical Kinnaura fashion having an overhanging veranda running all around and steeply gabled roofs made of slate. The tallest is the temple of the local god and below the village are the famed apple orchards. River Rupin rushes down cerulean blue far below in the valley. We cross the river and start the ascent to Kwar which is on the opposite side of the valley and a few hundred meters higher. Once again a number of hair pin bends and loops of the same rough road takes us upwards. Finally after eight hours of gruelling ride we traverse the 80 kms and reach our cherished destination.

The PWD rest-house is very basic but a roof over the head nevertheless. We have missed the lunch hour so eat some pakoras and have syrupy pahari tea instead. Then we set out to explore the village. Government offices are the only concrete buildings, rest of them being wood and stone. The police station has 19 officials and constables who are never called out for “policing” as the whole valley is crime free. All minor disputes arising in the villages are adjudicated by the Devta Jhakh.

We walk to the village and are met by one of the village ‘pradhan’ Guddu Chuhan (centre). He takes us to the temple. It is a very intricately carved structure built in the typical architecture. 

Then he takes us to a house where a wedding is taking place. By the time we reach, the ceremonies are over and everybody is sitting in the courtyard. A group of women is sitting and gossiping while the men loiter in drunken stupor. 

As we click photos, one of the family produces a bottle of local brew while another offers us a meal of mutton curry and rice. After a long session of photography Guddu takes us to his home where his children greet us. His wife and mother are at the wedding. He brews tea for us and shows us the inside of his house. It is a completely environmentally sustainable architecture, in absolute harmony with the surroundings. We can say it is a perfect example of sustainable technology. Every house has an overhang under which is stored fuel wood and dried fodder for the winters. The ground floor is occupied by the animals while first floor is for the owner’s residence. A miniature replica of itself in front of each house is the store room where grain is stored.

As sun sets the wind picks up and soon it is blowing a storm. We rush into Negi Dhaba and sit down for dinner. The storm seems to have crossed some wires or knocked down a pole for the electricity flickers off. There is a scramble for candles and matchbox. The skies open up with a peel of thunder and soon there is water everywhere. We are treated to rotis and saag made from ogla leaves spiced with garlic and green chillies. A teenage son of the owner serves while the younger daughter makes chapattis for us. The simple fare is delightful. We finish our dinner and wait for the rain to stop while some other locals join in conversation and tell us about their valley. We are told that gorals, musk deer, tragopans, monal and chir pheasants abound in the forests. Snow leopards enter villages in winters and take a heavy toll of their prized goats and sheep.

The whole are is teeming with birds. We see yellow tits, green hawk cuckoos, pied flycatchers, Veridiet flycatchers, white cheeked bulbuls, black bulbuls and Himalayan griffons. 

Next morning after breakfast we start back unwillingly. We reach Rohru slithering, sliding and skidding. The room in Hotel Chanshal is a beautifully refreshing feeling after the tiresome ride.

Next day we ride back through a different route and stop at the Hatkoti temple complex. This 12^th century complex has a number of temples dedicated to Shiva, Devi and some local godlings. It starts to drizzle and we rush off after paying our obeisance at the temples. The road from Hatkoti to Theog is in an appalling state. By the time we reach Theog, we are coated in dust which has infiltrated to the core of our being. We take the Shimla bye-pass and soon are in grips of a severe heat wave. By the time we reach Chandigarh, we are almost cooked medium rare as June sun is at its best. Here I must add a word of praise for my faithful Avenger...in three years and many rides, it has not ever let me down...not even a single flat or any other mechanical trouble. God bless my steed!