The rediscovery of Hampi

Dev S Sukumar

It’s late morning, and there’s a misty haze over Hampi. You can see the ruins from up on Rishimukh. It’s tranquil all around – but down there it must be a rabble of tourists, touts and worshippers.

We are atop a rocky hillock in Virupapura Gadde – north of the ruins of the old fortified city, the ‘other’ side of the river. For those with the inclination, the allure of the rocks is more inspiring than the attractions below. But the remnants of that ancient civilization do lend something to the expanse of rocks here.
As the sun climbs higher, one can spot bare-chested Westerners – long blonde hair, usually dreadlocked, tight muscled – trudging among the rocks, sometimes alone, other times with a friend or two. It is no mere accident that drives these pilgrims to pay a different kind of homage to Hampi – for it is one of the Meccas of rock climbing in the world.


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The ‘season’ in Hampi begins in October and extends to February, reaching a peak during the Christmas/ New Year period. During this time hundreds of Western tourists arrive – most in diverse pursuits (Hinduism, yoga, history, general interest); a small, but steadily increasing presence, is of climbers. The trend began some 15 or so years ago, but the numbers shot up after 2003, after the release of a video called ‘Pilgrimage’, shot by the acclaimed climber Chris Sharma. Sharma, who enjoys rock-star like status for his astonishing skills and exquisitely shot videos, changed everything for Hampi; ‘Pilgrimage’ touched on the mythology and history of the place, and the surreal challenges posed by the rocks. Hampi suddenly opened up a whole new world for climbing.

There is rocky terrain all over the world of course, and across India, but climbers sense something special about Hampi. It comes out in a conversation with veteran climber Nick Russell. Russell, an Englishman, was born in a family of climbers; he’s spent much of his 45 years climbing all over the world. India beckoned rather late, but this is his fourth visit in five years and he can’t seem to have enough of it. Why Hampi, you ask, and he struggles to answer:

“Peacefulness,” he says finally. “You get a real sense of... without seeing much, there are ruins where you get a real sense of an older civilisation. If you stand on top of the hill and you think of how important it was in Indian history, you get a sense of spiritual importance, and also historical importance and social importance. You look at the landscape, it's unique in the world. I know the legend of the rocks and Hanuman, and you see some of the rocks, you could almost believe it... you almost want to believe it. It feels too special to have happened by accident. If ever I wanted to believe in grand design, it would be this place.”

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Miles and miles of granite boulders, a veritable other-world, a climber’s nirvana. Chris Sharma’s presence still lingers, in the names of some of the ‘problems’ he has discovered and solved. A ‘problem’ is a certain route to the top of a boulder, graded according to the level of difficulty, and to be climbed without any aid. Those who frequent this place know all about them – the ‘Sleeping Buddha’, ‘Cosmic Cave’, ‘The Katie Brown Problem’, ‘Sleeping Baba’, ‘Double Arete’. Perhaps some of the mysticism that’s associated with Hampi’s climbing scene comes from Sharma himself – son of white, hippy parents whose guide was a Hindu mystic, Sharma was a child prodigy whose philosophy transcended the aim of just climbing rocks. For one of his early successes in California, he named the problem ‘The Mandala’.

Among those inspired by ‘Pilgrimage’ was Rob Lenfestey, who says he comes from a “magical part of the southern Appalachian mountains, with a secret abundance of boulders”. Lenfestey had been climbing for a year, when he saw Pilgrimage and was entranced. “I was… goggling at the amazing featureless rock they were climbing, and the monkeys and the palm trees, and the ruins... since then it has been a pipe dream to come here.”

Lenfestey is one of the many colourful characters one comes across in the climbing world. Friends say he calls himself a ‘hippy’, 30 years past its date, but like Sharma, he senses a deeper connection with climbing than just the sporty high of conquering a rock. “I just love the people, the community,” he says, “This place is special too, because we can live comfortably here, and we're on the edge of an expanse of bouldering, incredible amount of rock that's never been climbed before. It’s a huge opportunity for adventure and exploration and treasure hunt... looking for that golden route, that golden problem that's never been (solved)... that's hiding somewhere in this multitude…”

Hampi has hosted some of the world’s best climbers. Apart from Chris Sharma, climbers such as ‘Spiderman’ Alain Robert, Sonnie Trotter, Alex Chabbot and Chloe Grafthiaux have spent time here, revitalizing the Indian climbing scene in imperceptible ways. Although Indian competitive climbing has stagnated, adventure climbing has seen a revolution. Adventure is now a profession, and several Indian climbers are making their livelihood as guides and outdoor instructors. Many of the trends in the Indian adventure scene can be traced to Hampi. The first bungee jump in India, for instance, happened because Bangalore climber ‘Nipha’ Venkatesh struck a conversation with a French bungee jump master called Pascal at Hampi.

There is now a profusion of arts, alien as yet to the mainstream – like fire poi, juggling and slack-lining -- that are popular among climbers, both Indian and foreign.

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Hampi means different things to different people – some are in it just for the climbing, some have wider interests, like travel and history. Although it’s not immediately apparent, one senses a connection between the generation of the Sixties and Seventies that discovered India through the prism of yoga, transcendental meditation and the rest of it, and the current generation that’s ahead of that game. The password, of course, is freedom. “Among the most free people I know are rock climbers,” says Nick Russell. “People who choose not to have families, hate thoughts of responsibilities… in that sense they’re similar to the hippies.”

There’s a nice fit between the climbing fraternity and Hampi. Like Goa does for the beach bums, Hampi lends itself to the culture of climbing. There’s still a non-materialism to these parts that’s still charming, and hopefully it will remain that way. Ultimately, you realize the true adventurer is a global citizen who is not bound by geography. As PV Ramana, who owns one of the guest houses in these parts, says: “Our visitors are perhaps more concerned about our surroundings than we are… what is this about the outsider? If you don’t draw a boundary, where is the question of an outsider?”