Meet Shantanu 

When COVID-19 put a halt to the stream of travellers who visit the far eastern Himalayas hoping to spot a red panda in the wild, one would imagine a blissful reprieve for the shy creatures. 

“Actually, during the pandemic, poaching actually increased,” corrects photographer and conservationist Shantanu Prasad. “We can’t stop it all. We call the authorities. But they have weapons. We don’t.” 

Each day, Shantanu and his team of rangers at Habre’s Nest patrol the Singalila Ridge, which straddles Nepal and India. Covering anything from 10 to 20km on foot each day, they watch out for poachers and record any sightings of red pandas, to contribute to research on these elusive animals.

But Habre’s Nest is more than just a beacon of community conservation — it is also a source of livelihoods, ensuring that some of the tourism dollars in this region benefit the local community. The rangers are also employed as hosts and guides to travellers, so that they can explore the region while minimising harm to the environment. 

With travel back on the radar, Habre’s Nest hopes to see visitors again and channel funds back towards protecting the environment.

High Above The Clouds 

Though daily sightings are currently reported by the Habre’s Nest team, this writer did not spot one during my three-day visit in 2019 (visitors are advised to stay a week to allow for higher chances of a sighting). 

But while my expectations were high, surprisingly, I was not crushed by not seeing one. Instead, I went home enlightened by what I learnt about the tireless rangers, and thrilled by the stunning surroundings of the Singalila Ridge, which is more than just second fiddle to its famous russet-furred resident. 

Stretching from central Nepal to northwest Yunnan in China, the Eastern Himalayas thread through Sikkim (India), Bhutan, the Tibetan plateau and northern Myanmar along the way.  Ardent trekkers come to Singalila Ridge to complete the 50km trek from the town of Maneybhanjang to Phalut, the second-highest peak in West Bengal, India (3,595m). Others make for Sandakphu, the highest peak at 3,636m. 

But for less rugged travellers, the route is also renowned as a vantage point to take in four of the world’s five highest peaks: Everest (8,848m), Kangchenjunga (8,586m), Lhotse (8,516m) and Makalu (8,485m).

An Indo-Nepali project, Habre’s Nest’s focus is on the wildlife that call the Eastern Himalayas home — protecting them and encouraging local communities to take up the mantle of conservation. 

“Tourists aren’t always aware or sensitive about the forested areas they trek through and the wildlife that abounds within,” shares Shantanu, Habre’s Nest’s director

From trails being too crowded, to hikers making too much noise and leaving trash behind in the forest, “unregulated tourism”, as Shantanu puts it, is one of the biggest challenges faced by Habre’s Nest. 

A Getaway for Travellers, a Refuge for Red Pandas 

Habre’s Nest, which derives its name from the Nepali word for red panda, was formed by Shantanu after he learnt about the species’ endangered status. 

Globally, less than 10,000 remain in the wild, living in the trees in mountainous regions. In the area earmarked for conservation by Habre’s Nest, there are just 32. An estimated 86 per cent of red panda cubs die within a year of being born; human activity is the main threat to the species. 

In Singalila, the red panda’s main threats are feral dogs which may carry rabies and other diseases, and the clearing of forested land for wood and agriculture. 

After identifying feral dogs as a key threat to red pandas, Habre’s Nest began holding vaccination drives for dogs with the help of animal welfare organisations, targeting dogs that belong to households as well as strays from nearby towns that follow trekkers around. 

As they got to know the local community better, they realised there was a lack of medical facilities in the area. So they set up free medical camps, fostering greater trust. 

This was followed by outreach sessions to create awareness of the need to protect the environment. Villagers were invited to attend training to monitor wildlife and record sightings in a 100sqkm area. Those working in the tourism sector were offered training to become more sensitive to wildlife. 

When it ventured into wildlife tourism, Habre’s Nest made sure to hire only locally, ensuring that benefits from tourism stay local. “While the red panda is our flagship animal, our intention is to protect the Eastern Himalayas,” says Shantanu, who was a photographer before he became a conservationist. 

Preserving the unique environment and wildlife of the area would in turn benefit locals in the long run as sustainable tourism also sustains livelihood opportunities.

Spotting Elusive Wildlife, Chasing Long-Term Goals 

Catching sight of wildlife is a game of chance; after all, truly wild creatures do not show up on demand to delight travellers. 

Habre’s Nest recommends staying at least seven nights for higher chances of a sighting. This includes factoring in the altitude’s unpredictable weather and a day of travel to Kaiakata, which is on the Nepal side of the ridge. 

Guests do not take part in tracking red pandas; a walk to see the red pandas is only arranged when rangers spot one on patrols. Each visit lasts no more than 15 minutes.

In the meantime, guests can also spend their time at the bird hide on the premises. I was able to effortlessly pass a few hours here — clicking a few photographs every now and then of the avian company, so I could learn their names later from the in-house naturalist.  

For hikers, short trek options to Kalipokhri, known for its lake with dark waters, and to Tumling, a renowned viewpoint of both Kanchenjunga and Everest, are options. 

The Habre’s Nest team includes ex-poachers who now work as rangers, and double up as guides for guests, as well as manage the kitchen and homestays. Mohan Thami, a ranger at Habre’s Nest, shares, “Before, the means for livelihood were threadbare so people would set traps and poach. Today there’s awareness and a change in behaviour.”

“As trackers, we do our bit to sensitise villagers. After all, it’s because of the red panda and the training that Kaiakata has gotten visibility and sees tourists from all over the globe.”

Mohan Thami Ranger, Habre's Nest

Currently there are 11 full-time and nine part-time staff. Habre’s Nest’s lodge comprises four rooms, which can house a total of eight to 10 guests. Twenty per cent of the profits are directed towards its conservation efforts, such as local outreach on forest protection. 

Shantanu notes that a comprehensive census for red pandas is currently underway, with photograph-based evidence being shared with the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). 

“Our goal is to assign this area the status of a red panda reserve – which would aid with conservation while continuing to track and document red pandas while hosting tourists who might be inspired to do something to protect the red pandas,” he shares. 

“We want to continue working with government authorities towards improved regulation within and around the national park to minimise and eventually eliminate the harm being caused by unregulated tourism.”

Photo by Malika Virdi

“It’s not just about how much we can earn, but also about being able to share our dukh-sukh (sorrows-joys).” - Kamla Pandey, homestay host 

As Kamla Pandey tells me this over a WhatsApp call, I could picture her in warm layers wrapped over her sari, as the winter sun bathed her house through its large glass window. 

Just a couple of hours ago, the sun would have risen over the five snow-clad Panchachuli peaks, casting an otherworldly glow over the remote mountain village of Sarmoli.  The village sits in Uttarakhand’s Munsiari district, close to the borders of Tibet and Nepal in the Greater Himalayan region, an 11-hour drive from the nearest airport and train station. 

It was over many such mornings, way back in 2016, that I first got to know Kamla. Like many women in Sarmoli – and the neighbouring villages of Shankhdhura and Nanasem – she runs a homestay as part of Himalayan Ark, a community-owned social enterprise committed to responsible, purpose-driven travel in the region. 

When COVID-19 decimated tourism incomes across the world, Himalayan Ark shifted its focus from tourism to digital upskilling, reviving traditional crafts and long-term food security.

As we chatted over the phone about the threat of the Omicron variant, Kamla confessed that yes, the pandemic came as a big jhatka (shock). But as a community that has been together through many storms over the years, they continue to sail together, no matter which way the winds blow. 

Homestays seeded in conservation

Photo by Malika Virdi

Kamla didn’t always have the confidence — or the opportunity — to host strangers from around the world in her home. 

In fact, back in 1992, when avid mountaineer Malika Virdi moved to Sarmoli, the only livelihood opportunities available to women were meagre earnings from agriculture, or demanding daily wage labour at construction sites. 

About a decade later, when Malika was elected sarpanch (head) of the van panchayat — a 70-year-old village institution for the sustainable management of forests — she set out to change this, by connecting conservations and livelihoods. 

“The use of the forest needed to be regulated, but why would anyone be interested in conserving something they were so desperately dependent on [for fuel and fodder]?” recalls Malika in a recent conversation over a video call. 

The proposed alternative: a nature-based tourism initiative that became the foundation of Himalayan Ark. Himalayan Ark would assist members in accessing tourism-linked incomes, and they would commit to participating in local conservation work like planting, maintenance and safeguarding of the land. 

The homes of Himalayan Ark’s members became a vehicle for empowerment when they started hosting travellers. Photo by E Theophilus

Back in 2004, only 13 out of 300 van panchayat rights holders signed up, including Kamla. “People were sceptical as to why someone would choose to stay in our village over the hotels in the bustling Munsiari bazaar,” Kamla had told me when we first met. 

Global and domestic visitors however, quickly became drawn to Sarmoli, both as a base for high-altitude treks in the Kumaon Himalayas, as well as for volunteer tourism, student trips and slow travel. 

By 2019, Himalayan Ark’s network had grown to 20 women-led homestays, managed by a roster system where priority is given to those who have no alternate source of income. Twenty-five guides had been intensively trained in birding, high-altitude trekking and natural history, of which over half are women. Having travelled extensively in India, that is a statistic I constantly marvel at, for Sarmoli is one of the only places in the country where I have hiked with a female high-altitude guide.

A community that celebrates its cultures

A feast for the eyes and the appetite on Ghee Tyohaar, an Uttarakhand festival. Photo by Trilok Singh Rana

What first drew me to Sarmoli though, was not its equitable tourism model but Himal Kalasutra, a mountain festival for the locals (not tourists, though they are welcome to join). People from villages across the Gori Valley come together to go bird watching, learn outdoor activities like yoga or ultimate frisbee, and get a sneak peek into digital tools like Wikipedia. 

I joined a bird watching excursion amidst oak and deodar forests bursting with blooming red rhododendrons, participated in a yoga session in the surreal backdrop of snow and mist clad mountains, and cheered on locals as they set out on a high altitude marathon to Khaliya Top, a spectacular alpine meadow at an altitude of 3,500m (an altitude gain of 8,000 feet over 20km) — best hiked slowly by city folk like me.  

Photo courtesy of Himalayan Ark

Inspired by the festivities, I offered an impromptu Instagram tutorial to young adults from Sarmoli and Shankhdhura – which led to the creation of @voicesofmunsiari, India’s first Instagram channel to be run entirely by a rural village community. In 2017, with smartphones crowdsourced via my blog, an Instagram and photography workshop became part of the official festival line-up. 

Later, I learnt that in true spirit of community ownership, Himalayan Ark’s homestay hosts keep 80 per cent of the revenue, and voluntarily contribute 5 per cent towards community development — 2 per cent goes to the van panchayat, while 3 per cent goes to a fund that offers interest-free loans for community members to upgrade their homestays. 

Over the years, guests have also volunteered their skills to help Himalayan Ark grow, sharing their knowledge in mapping local geography, environmental issues, women’s rights and rural tourism development. “They get an insider's view of community life in the Himalayan mountains and also end up making lifelong friends,” shares Malika. 

A return to tradition, an eye on the future 

[From left to right] Master craftsman Nain Ram demonstrates how to weave bamboo; Children keep up with school in the digital resource centre opened by Himalayan Ark. Photos by Trilok Singh Rana (left) and Kaushalya Arya

COVID-19 spared the remote mountain villages of Munsiari the worst of the pandemic, but took away their primary source of livelihoods.

“Tourism was all about sharing our rural lifestyle with travellers,” says Malika. “The pandemic left us with no tourism, but we still had our rural lifestyle.” 

After the initial shock, Himal Prakriti, the non-profit arm of Himalayan Ark, quickly pivoted into developing alternate sources of income for the community, powered by CSR funding and individual donations.

With a renewed focus on agriculture and food security, some homestay owners and guides were trained and paid to build hoop houses — small, predator-proof greenhouses made with locally available galvanised iron pipes. “We’ve set up vegetable and forest nurseries, and distributed seeds like capsicum, cucumber, fenugreek and broccoli,”  Kamla tells me excitedly. 

Villagers building hoop houses to increase food security. Photo by Kamla Pandey

So far, Himal Prakriti has been able to reach 100 to 150 economically-depressed farmers across the Gori Valley, many of whom are women. 

It then shifted gears towards reviving crafts lost to time, starting with a workshop on likhai – intricate hand-carving on walnut wood, a skill once possessed only by the men of the Ohri community. Until a few decades ago, homes across Kumaon were fitted with likhai-adorned doors and windows, but as demand for traditional houses fell, many artisans gave up their craft.

By the end of the workshop, participants were able to  retrofit their homestays with self-carved mirror and window frames. 

Abandoned homes with likhai frames (left). Villagers in Munsiari tried their hand at reviving the craft by learning from artisans. Photos by E Theophilus (left) and Malika Virdi

Similarly, members of the community spent time relearning the backstrap loom – a simple concoction made with ropes, sticks and a strap, worn around the waist – once central to the Bhotiya people as they roamed the mountains with their herds.

Reviving these crafts not only created a sense of ownership, community and pride, it also enabled the members to create products for sale through the @voicesofmunsiari Instagram channel.

The focus on rural life did not neglect the need to stay connected to urban demands. As schools shut and lessons moved online, Himalayan Ark decided to convert a planned café space into a digital resource centre. Children who did not have access to smartphones or laptops were still able to attend online classes and study in a socially-distanced setting.

Gearing up for the “new normal” 

Photo by Malika Virdi

The pandemic exposed a gaping urban-rural digital divide — and with the interest in travel returning, bridging it remains crucial, so that the Himalayan Ark community can grow their business. 

Over the past five years, Himalayan Ark community members, despite not having the social media savvy of more privileged peers, have been sharing glimpses of their lives through @voicesofmunsiari. 

Encouraged by their pursuit, Malika and I, together with Osama Manzar of the Digital Empowerment Foundation, co-founded Voices of Rural India — a curated platform for homestay hosts, guides and other community members, to share their stories in their own voices, while building digital storytelling skills and earning an income through digital publishing. One of the first stories published was written by Kamla. 

When Indian Institute of Technology, Roorkee, an elite Indian university, broached the idea of documenting traditional crafts in the region, two women from the community led the multimedia documentation. Among them was  Bina Nitwal from a Bhotiya family, who, armed with her smartphone, interviewed her elders across the valley about the history of the backstrap loom that she herself is re-learning to use.

Mohini demonstrates how to use a backstrap loom to weave textiles. Photo by Bina Nitwal

In the new “normal,” we have no idea what the pandemic (and climate change) might throw at us. But one thing is for sure: the community in Munsiari, held together by Himalayan Ark, will continue to sail towards new horizons.

“Our goal has always been to forge a deep rishta (relationship), both within the community, and of the community with the landscape,” Malika told me. In the face of market forces and looming uncertainties, it’ll be more important than ever. 

Meet Sanju

For Sanju Negi, life has come full circle. 

From opposing the creation of a national park in the western Himalayas — on grounds that it would destroy locals’ ability to live off the land as they have traditionally — Sanju is now a custodian of the park’s natural environment. 

First, recognising the potential of eco-tourism, he became a trekking guide and member of a cooperative committed to responsible tourism in partnership with Himalayan Ecotourism, a travel social enterprise. 

Now, with tourism income drastically fallen as a result of COVID-19, Sanju has joined hands with Himalayan Ecotourism to tap the power of carbon offsetting: allowing people all over the world to offset their carbon footprint by planting trees in the Himalayas.

The road to empowerment

With its never-ending pine and cedar forests, flowing streams and waterfalls, and snow-capped peaks rising grandly above it all, Tirthan Valley, which is part of the Great Himalayan National Park (GHNP), is the postcard-perfect destination travellers dream of. 

Himalayan Ecotourism grew out of a desire to divert the benefits of tourism towards the valley’s communities, for whom the creation of the park in 1984 had signalled loss. 

Many villagers had depended on the medicinal herbs and forest produce they foraged as a source of income, while the land was also important grazing ground livestock. “As locals, many of us were opposed to the national park because it cut off our right to the forest and our livelihood had depended on it,” says Sanju. 

With tourism taking off in the region, Stephan Marchal, a Belgian who had worked on sustainable development projects in India, hatched the idea of an ecotourism cooperative owned and managed by locals.

In 2014, he co-founded Himalayan Ecotourism, a joint venture with the GHNP Community-Based Ecotourism Cooperative, which comprises local guides who are also shareholders. Stephan handles management and marketing needs, while guides like Sanju — who is also the treasurer of the cooperative — take turns to lead treks, from which they keep 60 per cent of the revenue. 

“I was opposed to the model of ecotourism where locals are mere daily wage labourers while the business was owned by somebody else. From the beginning I was sure I wanted to develop and grow the business in the right way,” says Stephan.

Himalayan Ecotourism’s philosophy of inclusion, not exclusion, also extends to its guests. While the conventional image of trekking is one of outdoor gear ads filled with lean and fit-looking individuals, Himalayan Ecotourism also organises trips for guests with mobility problems, such as older hikers or people with disabilities. 

The trips range from forest bathing — camping in the wild and immersing oneself in nature — to nine-day treks, aided by equipment and specially-trained guides to ensure comfort and safety. 

In 2019, Himalayan Ecotourism won not one but two of the Indian Responsible Tourism Awards instituted by Outlook Responsible Tourism.

An unexpected turn

In early 2020, COVID-19 began its sweep around the world, bringing global travel to a halt and devastating communities that had depended on tourism for their livelihoods. 

Himalayan Ecotourism was not spared, with business plunging to zero overnight. “We had to find alternate sources of income for our cooperative members,” shares Stephan.

The response was one that would not only provide relief income to its members, but also expand on its eco ethos: a reforestation programme implemented by members which would repair land damaged by overgrazing, logging, and fires, supported by anyone who wishes to offset their carbon footprint. 

For example, someone making a return trip between Paris and Delhi by air will incur around 1,680kg in carbon emissions. To offset this, three trees will need to be planted and maintained for 40 years (Himalayan Ecotourism’s calculations are based on a tree removing an average of 15kg of carbon emissions from the air annually over 40 years). 

Through Himalayan Ecotourism, individuals can buy carbon credits, the proceeds of which will be used to plant and maintain the trees for a minimum of 20 years. Customers will be given periodic updates, including geotag-enabled reports. 

Although members would not earn as much from replanting efforts as they did from tourism-linked activities, they saw the long-term benefits in reforesting the land. 

Over a telephone call, Sanju, who was the first to suggest replanting trees in the eco zone, shares: “There have been a few COVID-19 cases around here. The lockdown changed things for us overnight but between the reforestation project and some work on our own farms, we’ve mostly been able to manage making ends meet.

“We spent a bulk of our time during the monsoon season replanting mostly deodar (Himalayan cedar), silver oak, apricot, and a few persimmon varieties. We will undertake a similar replantation drive during the winter and continue along the treeline in Pekhri.” In a challenging situation that might have seen them slipping into despair and frustration, Sanju notes that these activities helped keep them engaged and contributing to their communities.

With the future of tourism uncertain, the reforestation programme is Himalayan Ecotourism’s main avenue of providing a sustained, non-charity-based source of income to its cooperative members, and to “mobilise and strengthen the capacities of the local communities”. Over 1,000 trees have been planted so far in a 2 sq km area around Pekhri village.

Keeping true to its philosophy of community ownership, Himalayan Ecotourism has also mobilised women from and around Pekhri on a voluntary basis to manage the reforested areas.  

They are also being encouraged to organise themselves into self-help groups and set up microenterprises such as traditional kullu shawl making and bee-keeping. Himalayan Ecotourism will provide marketing support for the self-help groups and will share the initial capital costs.

And for children aged eight to 12 years old, Himalayan Ecotourism is offering free basic English speaking and computer skills, taught by two local women who will be paid a stipend for their work.

The future is green

Over my four days in the GHNP with Himalayan Ecotourism in October 2019, I learnt about the power of involving locals as shareholders in sustainability initiatives, turning them into conscious stewards of their land. 

Then, Sanju had shared his pride in Himalayan Ecotourism’s progress and the role of ordinary community members in achieving it. “It has been the ones most in need, the ones without any stable income or alternate means, who’ve given it their most,” he said. 

This community spirit is something Stephan hopes will live on as Himalayan Ecotourism navigates a “new normal”. “On the one hand, we will remain a local organisation organising treks and other activities in the national park, and on the other hand, we will be a regional organisation (Himalayas) who will be able to implement bigger projects for conservation,” he says. 

He is hopeful that tourism will return to the valley, though he stresses that safety and wellbeing of the entire community comes first. 

“The takeaway from the experience of the past eight months has been that it wouldn’t be wise to continue having all our eggs in the same basket. Tourism-based livelihoods are and will remain one of many avenues to support the local community, but we will continue to build on diversifying our approaches and efforts,” he says.