Salaring is but a place. Albeit with all the above attributes. A narrow, hidden sub-valley located in the catchment of river Sutlej in lower part of district Kinnaur. If this doesn’t register the remoteness, you may see that it is one hundred and ninety kilometres ahead of Shimla. The sub-valley is hardly more expansive than a customary strip of land that comes free with a hill stream. As the stream, also named Salaring, fills up with happiness in monsoons, the strip has no option but to join in. Above the stream, sticking out of the side mountain wall, are the 20-odd houses of the region. Up the valley, the mountains continue to be unrelenting and thus the valley does not open up to meadows and passes. This saves Salaring from the seekers of nature, spirituality and Punjabi hip-hop. Steep mountains also mean that the flow in Salaring Khad (rivulet) is rapid enough for establishment of a small hydro power-plant. Expectedly, needful had been done two decades back.
Posted as Divisional Forest Officer (DFO) in the area and joined by a long-time friend and a newly loved pet, I went exploring the valley on an inspection trip in late April of 2018. Starting in afternoon, we crossed over to the right bank of river Sutlej from where a steady climb of 3 km brought us to a cosy forest inspection hut. Panelled with deodar frames and located among the Alder trees on the bank of a roaring stream, a short living in a hut like that has potential to set you free for a long time. However, that day the only care in the world had to be spared for the accompanying puppy which till then had limited working knowledge of regional leopards.
Next morning, an early paraatha-fuelled start was made. Traversing the narrow but thickly forested valley upstream we soon reached an abandoned habitation. This was where the Salaring village existed till about 6 years back when a huge landslide took most of it down. Some rudimentary hutments could still be seen on one side. All the survivers had shifted downstream. Well, almost all. Outside one of the hut i saw a slightly built but amply inebriated local. The rusty fellow was introduced as DFO*, the popular name by which he was known in the village. He was often found in the old abandoned habitation visiting the new village only in extreme cold or illness. In a time where the collars are rapidly turning white for a forester, it was heartening to see that the villagers still associated DFO with a guy who lives and works in the forest. The alter-ego was welcoming and we shared a hug. The impending interaction of Sahib with a drunk villager almost brought the staff on tenterhooks. But the man sure knew how to hold his drink. He began with lucidly describing the wildlife around and detailed the various regular and irregular animal visitors to his hut. He wished for more sightings of Tragopans** but lamented the increased get-togethers with black bears, especially in the night. As per him, the bears sometimes refused to go away without partaking the honey he has been getting from the bees reared in the hollowed tree-trunks in the hut. However the local forest worker's effort to check (and taste) the matter were politely put off by the namesake.
We continued to move upwards through the rapidly fainting track which had by now started to come up with washed out sections. Walking up and down the mountain might be difficult but walking across a slope just feels as if all the geometry you knew has gone down the drain and you are going to follow it soon. At times like these, embarrassment has to be embraced. Yours truly and the friend emulated the puppy and all three of us crossed over on all-fours to reach the site of inspection.
If the difficulty of reaching thus far instilled admiration for field staff, the quality of work topped it up with sheer awe. The staffers had constructed a wooden foot-bridge. The bridge was not only sturdy but blended with aesthetics of the surroundings and was the only way to crossover for patrolling the interior forest areas. The side-banks of the rivulet were meticulously protected by protection walls and spurs. The smaller channels upstream were carefully provided with brushwood check-dams. In last two years, I have seen countless examples of quality work done by the forest department in remote areas, far away from the eyes of people and media and further away from recognition and laurels. What makes these forestry works even better is that they provide local employment to remote populace.
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| Wooden foot-bridge constructed by forest staff |
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| Supports across the rivulet |
Unlike us lesser mortals, front-line staff of forest (or police) does not take lunch for granted. However on the day, paraathas had been packed for the lunch-pangs of visitors. Over the small fire made for making tea, the local forest worker told me that a stretch short way upstream of the rivulet was full of Himalayan pit vipers and may be visited. The information met with agreement from the local forest guard and horror from the accompanying friend. Leaving snakes to themselves, we made the long hike back, out of breath ourselves but full of respect for the staff. We reached the inspection hut and ended the magnificent day with a note of appreciation for the nature and it’s nameless keepers. Night dawned and as the roar of the moonlit stream and the warmth of kitchen wood-fire was joined by a fresh local beverage and old local tales, Salaring the phenomenon, engulfed everyone present and the laughter rang long into the night.
* DFO stands for the Divisional Forest Officer. Like general administration runs through districts, forest administration is divided among divisions as units. DFO is the local head of forest force and forest administration in the division.** Western Tragopan, a rare pheasant; state bird of Himachal Pradesh.
Further Reading
- Exploring Kinnaur and Spiti in the Trans-Himalaya (ISBN 81-7387-074-8; Indus Publishing; Deepak Sanan, Dhanu Swadi).
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