The Kida of India

A first-hand account of the early days of climbing in Western Maharashtra

By Nutan Shinde-Pawar | March 24, 2021

Comprising 160,000 square kilometers of beautiful mountains along the Indian peninsula, the Western Ghats (also known as the Sahyadris) served as the playground for early adventurers throughout Western Maharashtra. Two voyagers named Harish Kapadia and Anand Palande were responsible for a majority of early explorations in the area, and wrote numerous books highlighting trekking routes, pinnacles, big walls, and other formations. These became the primary source of information for the first generation of climbers in India during the 1980s, including Sachin Gaikwad, Vikas Satarkar, Manjiri Satarkar, Bharat Chauhan, Sandeep Paranjape, and Shirish Sahastrabudhe, to name a few. Climbing for them was more than just a passion. Their lives were ruled by the desire to climb rocks, and they were willing to endure whatever hardships were necessary to make it happen.

The early climbers of Maharashtra did what they could with what they had, but their ability to progress the sport was limited by the lack of tools and information they possessed. Without knowledge of the proper gear being used and innovation taking place in Europe and the US, these pioneer climbers were left behind the trends in development that many other parts of the world were experiencing. Despite that, they managed to survive their hobby and laid a foundation for future generations.

Veteran climber Sachin Gaikwad sat down with me to share the evolution of climbing in western India. This is his story.

Sachin Gaikwad started climbing in 1988 while pursuing an engineering degree in Pune (the adventure hub of Western Maharashtra). He was introduced to climbing through hiking, and it quickly became a way of life for him. One of his early mentors was Umesh Zirpe, who now runs one of India’s premier mountaineering organizations called Giripremi. He educated Sachin and others on basic climbing skills in a quarry in Fergusson College. “Umesh told us that this was the first step toward climbing 500-foot pinnacles. I got so hooked on these practice sessions that I would climb every morning and evening,” Sachin remembered.

Sachin and his fellow climbers were determined to let nothing stop them from putting their practice to work and pursuing their goals. “I remember we used cotton rope harnesses. We climbed 3,000-foot walls wearing these harnesses,” Sachin laughed. “We once constructed a harness from seat belts of vehicles. Funnier than this—we got a custom harness built by a mattress company. How can one ever take a fall in such a harness?” he chuckled. “But for us, the desire to climb was bigger. Lack of equipment didn’t stop us from fulfilling that desire. Instead, we fed it by making our own discoveries.”

Eventually, the desire to buy gear led Sachin to travel to Kathmandu, as it was the only known location where gear was available. “I had saved one penny every day to buy climbing equipment. I didn't know what to buy, so I decided that I would get anything in my budget,” Sachin recalled. For 100 Nepali rupees (less than one US dollar), he bought 20 carabiners from a foreign climber in Thamel. Impressed by Sachin's determination, the foreigner gifted him his used climbing shoes, which undoubtedly had more of an impact than he will ever know. “I was surprised to see there are separate shoes just for the rock. We used to wear tennis shoes. I took them and returned to India, very satisfied.”

It is said that curiosity is the key to discovery. This is exactly what drove the climbers then. “Despite all the shortcomings, it was the era of the ‘first-times’ in climbing. What we all were seeing and doing was new,” said Sachin. They researched through old books, climbing catalogues, and pictures of foreign climbers. They gathered vast information from welders, car manufacturers, electrical and chemical engineers, and garment factories to figure out what material would suit their climbing needs.

Another trick of theirs was to attempt to replicate any new piece of equipment they came across, and word of new gear traveled fast through such a small community. “We would then rush to the rock face. At Bahiri pinnacle, we saw the first ring-bolts. We removed one bolt and tried to copy it. Manjiri Satarkar’s father, who was an engineer himself, was our partner in crime,” Sachin laughed. “He would design tools for us. It was our way of developing things.”

A shocking revelation came in 2005 when climbers in Pune crossed paths with a German mountaineer. Nicholas Maylander, a member of the German Alpine Club, had visited India for his research. He attempted the notoriously difficult Duke’s Nose in Lonavala, but abandoned the climb from the first anchor because he felt unsafe. “He told us the anchors were hazardous,” remembered Sachin. Nicholas then gave the Pune team specifications of a resin bolt and taught them how to install it.

In the coming years, Nicholas created educational programs to teach enthusiastic climbers the industry standards and safety techniques. He also gifted the community a u-bolt bending machine, which opened up many doors for development.

“The 21st century brought us in touch with the outside world. We would laugh at our stupid inventions. We were aware of the dangers of our homemade devices though, so we climbed in a less risky way. Every climb was given a lot of preparation and planning. That is probably why we rarely had fatal accidents,” explained Sachin.

Although sport climbing came to India in 1994, commercial climbing and the IT sector made the sport bigger in the 2000s. The boom of IT companies led to more jobs and greater salaries, allowing people the luxury of pursuing their hobbies and introducing their children to the sport. With the inception of artificial climbing came a new generation of climbers who had not experienced the rough early years of the sport. “I call it the kida (zeal),” said Sachin. “Young climbers lack that. They don’t want to hike for hours, do the arduous hauling and long multi-pitches on the spires. It is all about the luxury of being able to climb at a gym. I don't dislike sport climbing, but somewhere the kida for climbing rocks has been lost, I feel. It is ironic that these days climbers have money and access, yet they are not willing to step out of their comfort zone.”

Sachin and the others are still doing their bit to grow the community and keep the kida alive. He has finally developed a standard resin bolt made from Indian materials, which he plans to use to open a huge site with 30-40 high-grade routes and organize a massive rock-fest involving international climbers. 

“Climbing is life. I relate every life experience to climbing,” said Sachin. “Even after 25 years, when I touch the rock, I forget everything around me. That is how much climbing must be weaved within you.”