It was summer. Up in the Kumaun Himalaya, we came across half-a-dozen men — some sitting on haunches, others lying on their stomach, all studying the ground. Their movements were painfully slow. An elbow would shift to cradle the chin, or a man might shift from side to side. From far, they resembled rocks. The men hailed from Jhuni, the last village up in the Sarayu valley. The spot they were at lay far above the village — at least two days’ walk for the average hiker, less than a day for the villagers. It is a tedious ridge walk in the direction of the Kafni glacier, skirting the snow-clad peak of Salgwar.
Waiting for a windfall
For two months every summer, villagers in these parts search for yarsagumba , popularly called caterpillar-fungus. At Khati, a village on the Pindari trail, I was told that it all started with traders from Nepal approaching village authorities to collect the fungus, prized as an aphrodisiac and energiser in China. Later, locals took over the search. Then the State stepped in to monitor — you need a licence, and what is found is sold through auction.
Depending on how much fungus a man collects, it could be a windfall for the villagers at high altitude who are otherwise restricted to subsistence farming, tourism, herding and small jobs. A lucky household may earn a lakh of rupees in two months (in Nepal, according to Wikipedia, 2011 prices spanned 3.5–4.5 lakh Nepali rupees per kilo of fungus). Luck isn’t widespread, however; modest earnings are the norm. The money comes in handy for household work, repairs, some jewellery…
Villages in the Himalayas have designated forest backyards. For this trade, those with access to high altitudes score because caterpillar-fungus exists in a limited band of 10,000–16,000 feet. In the Pindari area, three villages enjoy this — Jhuni with access to the mountains between the Sarayu and Kafni rivers; Khati with access to the Pindari glacier; and Wacham, including Jatoli, which taps the highlands of Sunderdhunga.
The first time I saw fungus collectors in action was at Pindari glacier, when a man from Khati fished out his camera and played a video. It showed several grown men on all fours on steep mountain slopes, patiently looking for the fungus. The partly buried caterpillar-fungus is hard to see — that explained the slow movement of the men. It also meant that a young man with sharp eyesight is better suited for the job than an older one with weak vision. Once found, the fungus is cleaned and stored.
Story of the caterpillar-fungus
The caterpillar spends up to five years underground to pupate. The fungus invades the caterpillar, kills it, and then grows as a parasite emerging from the mummified creature’s forehead.
Yarsagumba ( Ophiocordyceps Sinensis ) is found in Tibet, Nepal, India and Bhutan. According to Wikipedia, it was hardly known until 1993, when a clutch of Chinese athletes smashed world records at their national games. Drug tests picked up no substances banned until then. The coach said they had used yarsagumba and turtle blood. On the Internet, there is mention of environmental damage in parts of the Himalayas caused by the search for caterpillar-fungus.
The Kumauni villagers camped out in wilderness, worked hard and enjoyed the camaraderie, but accidents are a sharp reminder of the steep terrain. Distracted by fungus, and a possible windfall, somebody slips. Insurance cover, which comes with the licence, is little. There is also a question of rights. A villager picking the fungus lying near a fellow villager who hadn’t noticed it, I was told, provoked no anger. But villagers react if an outsider, even from another village, tapped their forest’s wealth. In Nepal, bloody clashes have erupted between villages over this ‘aphrodisiac’.
Winds of change
During my last few treks in the Pindari-Kafni-Sunderdhunga area, the enthusiasm of the fungus collectors seemed to be waning. As with any gold rush, during the fungus-hunting season, villages were reduced to women, children and old people as most of the able-bodied men had left for the higher altitudes.
Barring a few lucky ones, folks generally reported declining collection. Either there were too many people after the fungus, or the fungus supply wasn’t impressive. Somebody mentioned climate change and looked heavenward. That, or the maturing gold rush, is set to sieve out committed hunters from the ‘also ran’.