Today I visited Noida once again. The weather in Delhi was perfect, fast winds and dark clouds, and I rallied my friends together to meet up to have a couple of beers each. The drinking was good and the conversation was excellent. The real pain began when we left the 'theka' and went to visit my old room. My old room was half of a small independent house set in the middle of a sector that sat right on the border of the city of Noida and another village. When I moved in, the sector was underdeveloped and mostly empty without many of the basic amenities that Noida residents take for granted. The roads were dirt trails at places and the land set aside for parks was covered with dense shrubbery, devoid of aesthetic value, and a dumping ground for animals and humans alike. It was unsafe mostly and there were isolated incidents of robbery and attempts at the same.
Despite all these shortcomings I loved my room and the patch of land in front of it. More than the physical value of the room it was all the things that the house stood for that made it special for me. Friendships were cemented and torn apart, love was found and lost, will power invoked that found release in transient weakness, frustrations, pain, sorrow, misery and moments of triumph and euphoria; all of these I found in the room and in Noida. Many a time I have been asked by people why I never wrote about my time in Noida and if it wasn't significant enough. The time that I spent in Noida comprised of some of the most beautiful days of my life and it is not that it wasn't significant but that it was too significant for me to lose. I never dared to dredge through the recesses of my mind to sift through the memories that I could never live again.
Noida was home for me for a couple of years and the pain I felt when I had to leave was unrivaled in magnitude. This is life after all and there is little or no place for drama to play out in full length. No sad instrumental music plays in the background as you turn to gaze at the withered walls that housed your emotions, hopes, dreams and your very life within themselves. You turn once and look at the faded plaster and you turn back and walk on without a second look. I pride myself on being practical and being able to adapt to any situation that is thrown at me, but coming back to the place that I thought I belonged to, once more, was more than I could handle.
I had everything here that I never thought I could have in my life and I threw it all away. At 20 years old I thought it was all trash and that none of it mattered and that it was all facetious and frivolous. I stood there gazing at the house and wave after wave of pain and regret smashed against my iron resolve and left behind sediment of broken memories and wistful walks down fragmented lanes. People I knew here and that were part of me have moved on and diverged in directions that I couldn't traverse if my life depended on it. I miss all of it. I miss the place, the people, the freedom, the heartache, the struggle, the fleeting juvenile joy, the small successes, the massive failures, the hunger (literally), the salvation and perdition. I can never have it again as it was and the unbearable weight of the realization was enough to send me reeling into valleys of despair. But then, one cannot succumb to this and you need to hold your head straight and walk on in anticipation of happier tomorrows. I don't know where life is going to take me but a part of my very soul and being rests in the years that I spent in Noida and it will keep craving the comfort it knew until the day my bones melt into the earth. All of this is unnecessarily long, reflective, naive and foolish probably but if you felt what I feel and could for once shoulder the burden of my choices you would not be so heartless as to not sympathize with my misery. That's just a wet dream. Go ahead, laugh.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Tabo to Kaza (21/05/11)
Tabo to Kaza (21/05/11)
Yesterday was a massive disappointment in that I missed both buses to Kaza. I woke up diligently at 7:30 A.M so as to catch the 9:00 A.M bus and was on time at the bus stand but the bus never came. We once again, correctly, assumed that the bus had taken the main road and didn’t come to the bus stand. With no other alternatives, I came back to the hotel and spent the morning and afternoon idly passing time waiting for the 4:30 P.M bus to show up. At 5:30 a bus showed up and I hastily said my goodbyes to Sonu and I ran up to the bus only to find that it was headed in the direction of Peo. The driver told me that he had passed the Kaza bus on the way and I discovered that the damn bus had once again not showed at the bus stand and merrily taken the main road. I hurled a thousand curses at the driver and conductor and went back to the hotel to stay another night. We bought Chang once again and drank till late and slept.
I woke up at 7:00 A.M sharp, finished my breakfast at 8:00 and was at the general store on the main road by 8:30 A.M. I was determined not to miss the bus today and after a period of tense waiting the bus finally showed up at 9:15 A.M. I scampered to the top, tied my bag down, and took my seat at the back of the bus. The bus was a sparsely populated palace of unlimited space compared with the one that I took to Tabo. The road to Kaza was fairly decent with some excellent landscapes on view. We passed Kurik, Nadang, Shichling, Lingti, Sagnam and Lidang, most of which seemed to have a restaurant and a guest house. The road was extremely bumpy at times and the wanton driving had me off my seat high into the air several times. I was trying to take a photo of the mountains at one point and my camera almost went out the window when I was hurled into the air. I did some kind of aerial pirouette and landed on my elbow much to the amazement of my fellow passengers. I avoided everyone’s eye and stared resolutely out of the window. And then we reached Kaza.
As usual the sun was shining down brightly and I walked all through town to find a guest house only to find that a lot of them were still locked up. I was very disappointed and I came back to the bus stop and found a guest house adjacent which had rooms for Rs. 250. I was too tired to bargain and I said that I’d take it. I asked the guy when the bus to Kee/Kibber was and he told me that the bus service hadn’t started yet for the season. The only options were to take a private taxi that cost Rs. 400 or to go in a Maxi cab that left in the evening and returned to Kaza the morning of the next day. The only course of action to me seemed to be to take the Maxi Cab up to Kibber, spend the night there, and return the next day to Kaza and leave the day after. I told the guy that I’d be back the next day and I left, not really knowing how to spend 4 hours.
I ate some lunch in a little dhaba which took me about fifteen minutes. Then I walked into an internet cafe despite the exorbitant prices (Rs. 80/hour) and spent an hour there. I was happy to catch up with the world back home for a bit. I like to walk alone but I also enjoy knowing the affairs that are going on in the lives of my nuclear group. After the internet cafe I really couldn’t think of a way to spend time and simply walked up to the taxi stand where the cab would leave from. I found the designated cab but the driver was absent so I found some shade and sat down for a while before I hit up on a crazy idea.
My idea was to hire a private cab to take me up to Kibber/Kee and then return in the evening, spend the night at Kaza and then take the 7:00 A.M bus to Peo and eventually Delhi. I considered the factors, made the calls, found myself a taxi guy and then left. The car was an Alto and the driver was a music enthusiast. Loud Tibetan music flowed continuously out of the cheap speakers and he sang along as best as he could. To stem the cacophonous assault, I turned the volume down and started to ask him, what I hoped would seem, pertinent questions from a visitor. Just as we reached the Kaza Bridge, tremendous winds started to blow and the dust that rose up clouded the entire landscape.
I cursed my luck heartily and sat back glumly waiting for redemption in the form of Kee Monastery. I noticed little drops of water on the windshield and mused that all that was missing from the miserable scene was rain and even that seemed impending. When I noticed closely, however, I saw that it was snow and not rain and I almost jumped up in my seat. I excitedly pointed this out to the driver who was underwhelmed and told me that this wasn’t all that uncommon a phenomenon. At the Kee village the snowfall got slightly thicker and I stopped the car, stepped out and enjoyed my first snowfall in India. I also sighted the Kee monastery and couldn’t wait to go. We decided to go up to Kibber first and then visit the monastery on the way back.
The driver had been driving in the area for the last 19 years and the experience showed. He maneuvered the car deftly and we reached Kibber faster than I expected. The mountain views and landscapes were, as expected, beautiful and I could also see Chicham in the distance. I spent some time walking around in the village and taking pictures. At some point in all of this a girl walked up to me and asked me in English to give her ten rupees. I spoke to her in Hindi and then she walked off. Apparently this is a regular occurrence; local kids asking for and getting stuff from foreigners. After some time we got back into the car and headed for Kee monastery.
We found the monastery mostly empty when we reached and we parked and walked up to the main prayer hall. It was a short walk uphill and the altitude kicked me in the lungs to remind me that it was boss. My heart rate was spiked and I was gasping when we reached. The driver stayed behind and I went in and looked around. The entrance walls were adorned with paintings of the Maha Kala Chakra and the inside of the temple had statues of the Buddha and pictures of the Dalai Lama. One of the monks was giving another group a tour and he called me along as well.
I found out that one of the guys in the group was in the administrative division of the PWD and he certainly had an attitude to go with it. The monk took us into the kitchen area and gave us some Kashmiri tea and some ‘Tho’ (Prashad). He then showed us a couple of temples and a Stupa. The temples and the prayer hall, despite being impressive on their own, didn’t even come close to the sanctum of the Tabo Monastery. It was, however, a nice experience and the monk was a very devoted servant of the monastery and had an aura of austerity about him. Although taking pictures wasn’t forbidden, I chose not to take any, just to let it be and have visitors discover the
place themselves.
The driver asked me if I wanted to Langza and Komik but I told him that I would cover them the next time I visited and that we’d just go back to Kaza now. We reached Kaza shortly afterwards and I went back to the hotel room and rested a while. At 6:45 P.M I left to eat dinner and went straight to The Dragon restaurant which was recommended to me by a guy in Tabo. I ordered Falafel expecting the worst, but was pleasantly surprised when it turned out really good. On the way back to the hotel I had some Ras Malai for dessert and ran into Gaurav, the driver of the Bengali group. We talked for a while and then parted. The electricity went out at that moment and I came back to the room to finish up my writing. Tomorrow I leave Kaza and embark on the last leg of this trip. I feel very odd knowing that I’m going back from Himachal Pradesh. Life back home seems strangely alien after all these days here. I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to see if it gets any better.
Yesterday was a massive disappointment in that I missed both buses to Kaza. I woke up diligently at 7:30 A.M so as to catch the 9:00 A.M bus and was on time at the bus stand but the bus never came. We once again, correctly, assumed that the bus had taken the main road and didn’t come to the bus stand. With no other alternatives, I came back to the hotel and spent the morning and afternoon idly passing time waiting for the 4:30 P.M bus to show up. At 5:30 a bus showed up and I hastily said my goodbyes to Sonu and I ran up to the bus only to find that it was headed in the direction of Peo. The driver told me that he had passed the Kaza bus on the way and I discovered that the damn bus had once again not showed at the bus stand and merrily taken the main road. I hurled a thousand curses at the driver and conductor and went back to the hotel to stay another night. We bought Chang once again and drank till late and slept.
I woke up at 7:00 A.M sharp, finished my breakfast at 8:00 and was at the general store on the main road by 8:30 A.M. I was determined not to miss the bus today and after a period of tense waiting the bus finally showed up at 9:15 A.M. I scampered to the top, tied my bag down, and took my seat at the back of the bus. The bus was a sparsely populated palace of unlimited space compared with the one that I took to Tabo. The road to Kaza was fairly decent with some excellent landscapes on view. We passed Kurik, Nadang, Shichling, Lingti, Sagnam and Lidang, most of which seemed to have a restaurant and a guest house. The road was extremely bumpy at times and the wanton driving had me off my seat high into the air several times. I was trying to take a photo of the mountains at one point and my camera almost went out the window when I was hurled into the air. I did some kind of aerial pirouette and landed on my elbow much to the amazement of my fellow passengers. I avoided everyone’s eye and stared resolutely out of the window. And then we reached Kaza.
As usual the sun was shining down brightly and I walked all through town to find a guest house only to find that a lot of them were still locked up. I was very disappointed and I came back to the bus stop and found a guest house adjacent which had rooms for Rs. 250. I was too tired to bargain and I said that I’d take it. I asked the guy when the bus to Kee/Kibber was and he told me that the bus service hadn’t started yet for the season. The only options were to take a private taxi that cost Rs. 400 or to go in a Maxi cab that left in the evening and returned to Kaza the morning of the next day. The only course of action to me seemed to be to take the Maxi Cab up to Kibber, spend the night there, and return the next day to Kaza and leave the day after. I told the guy that I’d be back the next day and I left, not really knowing how to spend 4 hours.
I ate some lunch in a little dhaba which took me about fifteen minutes. Then I walked into an internet cafe despite the exorbitant prices (Rs. 80/hour) and spent an hour there. I was happy to catch up with the world back home for a bit. I like to walk alone but I also enjoy knowing the affairs that are going on in the lives of my nuclear group. After the internet cafe I really couldn’t think of a way to spend time and simply walked up to the taxi stand where the cab would leave from. I found the designated cab but the driver was absent so I found some shade and sat down for a while before I hit up on a crazy idea.
My idea was to hire a private cab to take me up to Kibber/Kee and then return in the evening, spend the night at Kaza and then take the 7:00 A.M bus to Peo and eventually Delhi. I considered the factors, made the calls, found myself a taxi guy and then left. The car was an Alto and the driver was a music enthusiast. Loud Tibetan music flowed continuously out of the cheap speakers and he sang along as best as he could. To stem the cacophonous assault, I turned the volume down and started to ask him, what I hoped would seem, pertinent questions from a visitor. Just as we reached the Kaza Bridge, tremendous winds started to blow and the dust that rose up clouded the entire landscape.
I cursed my luck heartily and sat back glumly waiting for redemption in the form of Kee Monastery. I noticed little drops of water on the windshield and mused that all that was missing from the miserable scene was rain and even that seemed impending. When I noticed closely, however, I saw that it was snow and not rain and I almost jumped up in my seat. I excitedly pointed this out to the driver who was underwhelmed and told me that this wasn’t all that uncommon a phenomenon. At the Kee village the snowfall got slightly thicker and I stopped the car, stepped out and enjoyed my first snowfall in India. I also sighted the Kee monastery and couldn’t wait to go. We decided to go up to Kibber first and then visit the monastery on the way back.
The driver had been driving in the area for the last 19 years and the experience showed. He maneuvered the car deftly and we reached Kibber faster than I expected. The mountain views and landscapes were, as expected, beautiful and I could also see Chicham in the distance. I spent some time walking around in the village and taking pictures. At some point in all of this a girl walked up to me and asked me in English to give her ten rupees. I spoke to her in Hindi and then she walked off. Apparently this is a regular occurrence; local kids asking for and getting stuff from foreigners. After some time we got back into the car and headed for Kee monastery.
We found the monastery mostly empty when we reached and we parked and walked up to the main prayer hall. It was a short walk uphill and the altitude kicked me in the lungs to remind me that it was boss. My heart rate was spiked and I was gasping when we reached. The driver stayed behind and I went in and looked around. The entrance walls were adorned with paintings of the Maha Kala Chakra and the inside of the temple had statues of the Buddha and pictures of the Dalai Lama. One of the monks was giving another group a tour and he called me along as well.
I found out that one of the guys in the group was in the administrative division of the PWD and he certainly had an attitude to go with it. The monk took us into the kitchen area and gave us some Kashmiri tea and some ‘Tho’ (Prashad). He then showed us a couple of temples and a Stupa. The temples and the prayer hall, despite being impressive on their own, didn’t even come close to the sanctum of the Tabo Monastery. It was, however, a nice experience and the monk was a very devoted servant of the monastery and had an aura of austerity about him. Although taking pictures wasn’t forbidden, I chose not to take any, just to let it be and have visitors discover the
place themselves.
The driver asked me if I wanted to Langza and Komik but I told him that I would cover them the next time I visited and that we’d just go back to Kaza now. We reached Kaza shortly afterwards and I went back to the hotel room and rested a while. At 6:45 P.M I left to eat dinner and went straight to The Dragon restaurant which was recommended to me by a guy in Tabo. I ordered Falafel expecting the worst, but was pleasantly surprised when it turned out really good. On the way back to the hotel I had some Ras Malai for dessert and ran into Gaurav, the driver of the Bengali group. We talked for a while and then parted. The electricity went out at that moment and I came back to the room to finish up my writing. Tomorrow I leave Kaza and embark on the last leg of this trip. I feel very odd knowing that I’m going back from Himachal Pradesh. Life back home seems strangely alien after all these days here. I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to see if it gets any better.
Tabo: Day 3 (19/05/11)
Tabo: Day 3 (19/05/11)
The Chang did its wonders yesterday and I woke up at 8:00 A.M. After having a standard breakfast of milk tea and one egg parantha I waited in the reception hall/restaurant with the two foreigners while they waited for the bus to Kaza. They listened to some sort of French punk music (I thought the French were too classy to have punk as a genre) and I read Don Quixote. Eventually it was 11:30 A.M and there was no bus in sight and all of us concluded, correctly, that the bus had not come to the bus stop but instead just took the main road and left without halting. Irritated by the turn of affairs the foreigners chose to leave their luggage behind at the restaurant and went off wandering into the town again.
My plan initially was to wait out the sun and leave in the direction of the Tabo Bridge to see if I could get some pictures of the fields and the apple orchards-to-be. But Sonu found himself to be free of work and both of us settled down to play caroms and that was how the day was to be spent. He was a competitive player but I found myself reigniting my childhood carom championship spirit and I defeated him 7 times in a row in Khurki (A type of carom game). During the entire game we swapped stories of our lives and it was a nice talk. I found that he was a very dedicated, hardworking, and ambitious 21 year old guy and it was nice to get to know him better.
After the seven games both of us had had enough and we decided to stop playing. The sky was overcast in the typical Tabo fashion and I went out for a walk. I found my dear darling Anjali once again and she actually talked to me this time around, for which I gave her a chocolate and then resumed my walking. I love exploring a place by walking all around and Tabo had a lot to offer. I discovered the location of every food joint, general store, guest house, alcohol shop, and helipad in town. It was great fun walking through the streets and alleys and looking at the local lifestyle going about. I visited the monastery once again and then went back to the hotel.
Once I got back I was told by Sonu that 5 Bengali guests had arrived. I had gotten back in time to see them getting out of the car and moving into their rooms. They were loud and disorganized and comprised of two sets of couples and a rambunctious kid. The leader, an orange-clad antediluvian beast with bad teeth, spoke rudely to Sonu and it irked me slightly. Sonu, however, was glad for the paying guests and went about his work methodically. The guests had arrived in a single car and the driver of the car walked in. He was a veritable giant of about 6’3” and close to 100 kilos or more. He had a very intimidating air about him and he came in and sat down at my table.
I greeted him cordially and talked to him and found him to be very mild mannered and polite. He didn’t speak frivolously and answered all my questions patiently. I found that he was from Kalka, owned three cars and had been on the road with this family for several days now. I asked him some questions about the route he took, other places to see, where one could buy charas, and other issues. While we were talking the family walked in and ordered food enough for two days and made quick work of it. I left them and finished a little of alcohol that I had left and then slept anticipating my journey to Kaza tomorrow.
The Chang did its wonders yesterday and I woke up at 8:00 A.M. After having a standard breakfast of milk tea and one egg parantha I waited in the reception hall/restaurant with the two foreigners while they waited for the bus to Kaza. They listened to some sort of French punk music (I thought the French were too classy to have punk as a genre) and I read Don Quixote. Eventually it was 11:30 A.M and there was no bus in sight and all of us concluded, correctly, that the bus had not come to the bus stop but instead just took the main road and left without halting. Irritated by the turn of affairs the foreigners chose to leave their luggage behind at the restaurant and went off wandering into the town again.
My plan initially was to wait out the sun and leave in the direction of the Tabo Bridge to see if I could get some pictures of the fields and the apple orchards-to-be. But Sonu found himself to be free of work and both of us settled down to play caroms and that was how the day was to be spent. He was a competitive player but I found myself reigniting my childhood carom championship spirit and I defeated him 7 times in a row in Khurki (A type of carom game). During the entire game we swapped stories of our lives and it was a nice talk. I found that he was a very dedicated, hardworking, and ambitious 21 year old guy and it was nice to get to know him better.
After the seven games both of us had had enough and we decided to stop playing. The sky was overcast in the typical Tabo fashion and I went out for a walk. I found my dear darling Anjali once again and she actually talked to me this time around, for which I gave her a chocolate and then resumed my walking. I love exploring a place by walking all around and Tabo had a lot to offer. I discovered the location of every food joint, general store, guest house, alcohol shop, and helipad in town. It was great fun walking through the streets and alleys and looking at the local lifestyle going about. I visited the monastery once again and then went back to the hotel.
Once I got back I was told by Sonu that 5 Bengali guests had arrived. I had gotten back in time to see them getting out of the car and moving into their rooms. They were loud and disorganized and comprised of two sets of couples and a rambunctious kid. The leader, an orange-clad antediluvian beast with bad teeth, spoke rudely to Sonu and it irked me slightly. Sonu, however, was glad for the paying guests and went about his work methodically. The guests had arrived in a single car and the driver of the car walked in. He was a veritable giant of about 6’3” and close to 100 kilos or more. He had a very intimidating air about him and he came in and sat down at my table.
I greeted him cordially and talked to him and found him to be very mild mannered and polite. He didn’t speak frivolously and answered all my questions patiently. I found that he was from Kalka, owned three cars and had been on the road with this family for several days now. I asked him some questions about the route he took, other places to see, where one could buy charas, and other issues. While we were talking the family walked in and ordered food enough for two days and made quick work of it. I left them and finished a little of alcohol that I had left and then slept anticipating my journey to Kaza tomorrow.
Tabo: Day Two (18/05/11)
Tabo: Day Two (18/05/11)
After an extremely restful night of sleep, I woke up feeling completely refreshed. I walked out to the front of the hotel, which also served as its restaurant, and ordered some milk tea and an egg parantha. After finishing my princely breakfast I came back to the room and finished up some pending trip report work and then read some Don Quixote. The sun was shining down brightly and I didn’t want to risk walking out, sunscreen or not. Over the past few days some semblance of normalcy had returned to my face and children had stopped running from me in the streets; I wanted to keep it that way. I also talked to the guy managing the hotel and he told me that at about 1:30 P.M everyday thick cloud cover engulfed the area and cut off the sun for the rest of the day. Therefore I resolved to stay put until then.
At about 1:15 P.M my hunger pangs elevated to an unmanageable level and I decided to walk around town for a bit to see where I could find a decent meal. After walking around for a while I entered one of the seemingly countless ‘dhabas’ open here and ordered half a plate of egg chowmein. It cost Rs. 40 but it tasted good and I was happy. My hunger sated, I set off in the direction of the monastery and saw a cute dog in my path. I had an unopened pack of 50-50 biscuits in my bag that I had bought in Speelo and I wanted to feed him with them. He was extremely shy and would not come up to me to take the biscuits. I had to set them down and walk away before he even considered approaching them. He gobbled them in a hurry though and set off on his merry way. I played biscuit-man to a couple of more dogs before I finally reached the monastery.
The Tabo Monastery, according to legends, was built in one night by the Gods. The Stupa outside of the monastery is beautifully colorful and indicates the presence of a sacred place. Even those who know absolutely nothing of Buddhism (me) will appreciate the Stupa and the prayer wheels running on all four sides of it. I entered the monastery and walked around for a bit and photographed the dusty buildings. The other temples were all closed and after exploring a bit I saw a monk leading a group into the sanctum and I hastily took off my shoes and followed them. A sign outside strictly prohibited photography and I really struggled with the temptation once inside.
As soon as you enter and get used to the darkness you see the paintings on the walls of the Mahakala Chakra. They are awe inspiring and conjure up radiant images in one’s mind. I spent some time trying to make out all the paintings and then followed the group and the monk into the sanctum. The sanctum was called ‘The Temple of Enlightened Gods’ and had the idols of many of their Gods on all the four walls surrounding the Buddha (I’m guessing) and there were pictures of the Dalai Lama as well. At this point the monk was called out on some matter and I had to really struggle with my conscience about not taking pictures. In the end I decided to take integrity’s side and just settled for walking around and marveling at the idols. The whole setting is so powerful and ancient that it almost seems like a scene of ‘Avatar’ (The cartoon, not the movie). No words could ever do the sanctum justice and it is worth making a trip to Tabo to just see the monastery. On the way out the monk showed us some souvenirs on offer, postcards for Rs. 200, a T-shirt for Rs. 350, and a book about the monastery’s history for Rs. 350.
They seemed a little expensive but the monk told me that the proceeds from the sales directly went to a school that the monastery ran. I didn’t really need any of the items so I thanked the monk, left the monastery, and started walking in the direction of Tabo Bridge. My plan was to see if I could find some easy trails that I could scale to get better views of the mountains and the entire village. I had hardly walked out of the main entrance when a slight drizzle started. I attributed it to the bipolarity of the weather and expected the drizzle to stop soon. Soon the winds began to cause mini dust storms and the rain started to come down so I hastily beat a retreat back to the hotel. I came back to the restaurant to find a hippy looking guy and his girlfriend (as I came to find out later) having beer.
I deduced that they were French when they talked and on seeing me come in they offered me beer which I politely refused. The guy seemed to be one of those euphoric loving-life sorts while the girl was more grounded and a little quieter. They had the crappy carom board out and they were playing a game whilst engaging in French banter. We were all joined a little later by a group of three kids who seemed extremely curious about the foreigners and stood watching them play. The foreigners called them in to play with them and soon the kids had taken over the game while being cheered on by the guy and the girl. Among them was the cutest and the shyest girl I have ever seen in my life; her name was Anjali.
The name seemed familiar to me and I asked the manager who she was and he told me that she was the daughter of a woman who ran a dhaba of the same name. I remembered walking past Anjali’s Dhaba in the town and turned my gaze back to the lovely little three year old girl. She was extremely reticent and would not meet anybody’s gaze or reply to them. Her brother was extremely boisterous and got along great with the foreigners while she just stood on the side looking at everything. I went up to her and tried talking, but she still remained resolute and wouldn’t say a word. I asked her brother if she ever talked and he replied that she didn’t shut up at home. I spent some time trying to coax her into talking but it seemed a fruitless enterprise and I was most disappointed. I let her be and sat some distance away and watched the carom game going on.
Hardly a few minutes passed and I found the cute little thing walking apprehensively over to me and I sat still not wanting to startle her away. She came over and first started playing with my jacket and then pulling my jeans absent-mindedly, all the time inching closer. I bent down, held her and then kissed her on her forehead and she abruptly hugged me. The happiness you get when you gain an innocent child’s trust cannot be rivaled by a thousand monastery sanctums or the most beautiful landscapes on the planet. A child’s affection and trust are pure and untainted and to be worthy of either or both is a privilege in itself. I picked her up and walked around for a bit and she buried her head into my shoulder and slept. Too soon, though, it was time for her to go and I felt incredibly bad letting her go off with her brother.
After she left I spoke to the manager about getting some Chang (a local alcohol brewed from grain) and he told me that he’d take me along in the evening and we could buy some. This left us alone with the Frenchman and soon we got to talking. I found out that he and his girlfriend had been in India for four months now and they planned to go to Nepal next to stay another four months. He told me about all the places that he’d been and was of the opinion that Spiti was the last place left in India with a significant amount of natural beauty and expressed pain and displeasure at the Hydro-Electric projects cropping up all over the place. He couldn’t fathom in his wildest dreams why there was need for a 400 MW power plant in Karcham and was extremely indignant about the whole thing. We swapped some opinions and expressed hope that Spiti would remain fairly untouched. His girlfriend joined us then and the conversation fizzled out and the manager suggested that we go and buy the Chang.
We went to the clandestine place where this beverage was manufactured and the guy told me to hang back and wait while he collected the Chang. It was Rs. 30 a bottle (One liter) and we bought three bottles and went back to the hotel. We waited till nightfall just to give the guys time to finish up with their hotel management duties. Somewhere during this time the two foreigners also came along and I asked them to join us. The guy, who apparently was a great lover of alcohol, accepted with great gusto and all of settled down to drink. The Chang was mostly like Neera except that it was a little bitterer. The French guy had a couple of glasses and his girlfriend decided that it was time for both of them to retire. After they left, it was a nice session of drinking with the two hotel guys and finally I found out that their names were Sonu and Manoj. We reflected on how odd it was that Indian tradition permitted inquiries about everything else before names are even considered. It was late and the guys needed to wake up early so I left them and all of us slept.
After an extremely restful night of sleep, I woke up feeling completely refreshed. I walked out to the front of the hotel, which also served as its restaurant, and ordered some milk tea and an egg parantha. After finishing my princely breakfast I came back to the room and finished up some pending trip report work and then read some Don Quixote. The sun was shining down brightly and I didn’t want to risk walking out, sunscreen or not. Over the past few days some semblance of normalcy had returned to my face and children had stopped running from me in the streets; I wanted to keep it that way. I also talked to the guy managing the hotel and he told me that at about 1:30 P.M everyday thick cloud cover engulfed the area and cut off the sun for the rest of the day. Therefore I resolved to stay put until then.
At about 1:15 P.M my hunger pangs elevated to an unmanageable level and I decided to walk around town for a bit to see where I could find a decent meal. After walking around for a while I entered one of the seemingly countless ‘dhabas’ open here and ordered half a plate of egg chowmein. It cost Rs. 40 but it tasted good and I was happy. My hunger sated, I set off in the direction of the monastery and saw a cute dog in my path. I had an unopened pack of 50-50 biscuits in my bag that I had bought in Speelo and I wanted to feed him with them. He was extremely shy and would not come up to me to take the biscuits. I had to set them down and walk away before he even considered approaching them. He gobbled them in a hurry though and set off on his merry way. I played biscuit-man to a couple of more dogs before I finally reached the monastery.
The Tabo Monastery, according to legends, was built in one night by the Gods. The Stupa outside of the monastery is beautifully colorful and indicates the presence of a sacred place. Even those who know absolutely nothing of Buddhism (me) will appreciate the Stupa and the prayer wheels running on all four sides of it. I entered the monastery and walked around for a bit and photographed the dusty buildings. The other temples were all closed and after exploring a bit I saw a monk leading a group into the sanctum and I hastily took off my shoes and followed them. A sign outside strictly prohibited photography and I really struggled with the temptation once inside.
As soon as you enter and get used to the darkness you see the paintings on the walls of the Mahakala Chakra. They are awe inspiring and conjure up radiant images in one’s mind. I spent some time trying to make out all the paintings and then followed the group and the monk into the sanctum. The sanctum was called ‘The Temple of Enlightened Gods’ and had the idols of many of their Gods on all the four walls surrounding the Buddha (I’m guessing) and there were pictures of the Dalai Lama as well. At this point the monk was called out on some matter and I had to really struggle with my conscience about not taking pictures. In the end I decided to take integrity’s side and just settled for walking around and marveling at the idols. The whole setting is so powerful and ancient that it almost seems like a scene of ‘Avatar’ (The cartoon, not the movie). No words could ever do the sanctum justice and it is worth making a trip to Tabo to just see the monastery. On the way out the monk showed us some souvenirs on offer, postcards for Rs. 200, a T-shirt for Rs. 350, and a book about the monastery’s history for Rs. 350.
They seemed a little expensive but the monk told me that the proceeds from the sales directly went to a school that the monastery ran. I didn’t really need any of the items so I thanked the monk, left the monastery, and started walking in the direction of Tabo Bridge. My plan was to see if I could find some easy trails that I could scale to get better views of the mountains and the entire village. I had hardly walked out of the main entrance when a slight drizzle started. I attributed it to the bipolarity of the weather and expected the drizzle to stop soon. Soon the winds began to cause mini dust storms and the rain started to come down so I hastily beat a retreat back to the hotel. I came back to the restaurant to find a hippy looking guy and his girlfriend (as I came to find out later) having beer.
I deduced that they were French when they talked and on seeing me come in they offered me beer which I politely refused. The guy seemed to be one of those euphoric loving-life sorts while the girl was more grounded and a little quieter. They had the crappy carom board out and they were playing a game whilst engaging in French banter. We were all joined a little later by a group of three kids who seemed extremely curious about the foreigners and stood watching them play. The foreigners called them in to play with them and soon the kids had taken over the game while being cheered on by the guy and the girl. Among them was the cutest and the shyest girl I have ever seen in my life; her name was Anjali.
The name seemed familiar to me and I asked the manager who she was and he told me that she was the daughter of a woman who ran a dhaba of the same name. I remembered walking past Anjali’s Dhaba in the town and turned my gaze back to the lovely little three year old girl. She was extremely reticent and would not meet anybody’s gaze or reply to them. Her brother was extremely boisterous and got along great with the foreigners while she just stood on the side looking at everything. I went up to her and tried talking, but she still remained resolute and wouldn’t say a word. I asked her brother if she ever talked and he replied that she didn’t shut up at home. I spent some time trying to coax her into talking but it seemed a fruitless enterprise and I was most disappointed. I let her be and sat some distance away and watched the carom game going on.
Hardly a few minutes passed and I found the cute little thing walking apprehensively over to me and I sat still not wanting to startle her away. She came over and first started playing with my jacket and then pulling my jeans absent-mindedly, all the time inching closer. I bent down, held her and then kissed her on her forehead and she abruptly hugged me. The happiness you get when you gain an innocent child’s trust cannot be rivaled by a thousand monastery sanctums or the most beautiful landscapes on the planet. A child’s affection and trust are pure and untainted and to be worthy of either or both is a privilege in itself. I picked her up and walked around for a bit and she buried her head into my shoulder and slept. Too soon, though, it was time for her to go and I felt incredibly bad letting her go off with her brother.
After she left I spoke to the manager about getting some Chang (a local alcohol brewed from grain) and he told me that he’d take me along in the evening and we could buy some. This left us alone with the Frenchman and soon we got to talking. I found out that he and his girlfriend had been in India for four months now and they planned to go to Nepal next to stay another four months. He told me about all the places that he’d been and was of the opinion that Spiti was the last place left in India with a significant amount of natural beauty and expressed pain and displeasure at the Hydro-Electric projects cropping up all over the place. He couldn’t fathom in his wildest dreams why there was need for a 400 MW power plant in Karcham and was extremely indignant about the whole thing. We swapped some opinions and expressed hope that Spiti would remain fairly untouched. His girlfriend joined us then and the conversation fizzled out and the manager suggested that we go and buy the Chang.
We went to the clandestine place where this beverage was manufactured and the guy told me to hang back and wait while he collected the Chang. It was Rs. 30 a bottle (One liter) and we bought three bottles and went back to the hotel. We waited till nightfall just to give the guys time to finish up with their hotel management duties. Somewhere during this time the two foreigners also came along and I asked them to join us. The guy, who apparently was a great lover of alcohol, accepted with great gusto and all of settled down to drink. The Chang was mostly like Neera except that it was a little bitterer. The French guy had a couple of glasses and his girlfriend decided that it was time for both of them to retire. After they left, it was a nice session of drinking with the two hotel guys and finally I found out that their names were Sonu and Manoj. We reflected on how odd it was that Indian tradition permitted inquiries about everything else before names are even considered. It was late and the guys needed to wake up early so I left them and all of us slept.
Nako to Tabo (17/05/11)
Nako to Tabo (17/05/11)
I woke up at 6:30 A.M because of the slight dehydration caused by the alcohol yesterday. I gulped down the water and looked outside to find pleasant weather and cloud cover. Having had no opportunity to explore the village yesterday I went out for a bit to see what this place was all about. I walked to the inside of the village and found several dry fields and forlorn looking houses and establishments. I quickly turned in the other direction and started walking out of Nako in the direction of Shilkar and there were some views of the mountains but otherwise it was generally devoid of anything interesting. The sun started blazing down and I quickly ran back to the refuge of the hotel.
I decided to have breakfast and this was to be my fondest memory of Nako. For some reason I was feeling ravenous and I settled down for a large meal. I tried the Tibetan Butter Tea which is basically salted tea with melted butter. The taste was odd but certainly not disagreeable and I ordered some Tibetan bread to go along with it. My hunger still not satiated, I ordered an egg parantha and then finally a tall glass of milk tea to wash it all down. This was one of the best meals of my trip. Over breakfast I talked to the hotel owner to see if it was worth staying another day in Nako or not. From what I got from the conversation I decided it wasn’t worth staying and that I’d travel to Tabo.
The bus was at approximately 12 P.M and I had a couple of hours to kill so I went back to my beloved Don Quixote. At 11:30 A.M I descended and sat in front of the hotel (which happened to be a few meters away from the bus stop) waiting for the bus to Tabo. The owner also joined me and we conversed at length about odd topics. He made it sound like Tabo and Kaza would also be as bad as Nako and that I might not like it. I went through a moment of doubt at this stage and seriously considered taking the bus back to Reckong-Peo and then Kalpa and spend the rest of my days there. While I was thinking this the bus to Peo came and stood in my line of vision and it was all I could do to resist the temptation of getting on it. The bus passed and I was a little uncertain of my choice but now all reflection was moot so I just waited for the bus to Tabo.
The bus showed up at 1:30 P.M and it was completely packed. This time I ran straight to the back and climbed onto the top of the bus and tied my bag down. Then I pushed my way into the bus and stood for the rest of the trip. The bus trip would have been unbearable if not for my Ipod. I switched it on, cranked up the volume, and just stared out of the windows avoiding all the noise and people pushing against me and stepping on my feet. The bus stopped at Chango and Sumdo so that the foreigners could have their ILP’s checked. It also stopped at Hurling for a small evening tea break. At about Hurling I noticed two foreigners following us on two Thunderbirds and I envied them greatly. All along the trip I had been looking at the roads and thinking about how nice it would have been on a bike; maybe next time.
We passed through the Tabo wildlife reserve and then finally we reached the Tabo bus stop. I scampered to the top of the bus and, more gracefully this time, managed to descend with my bag. A couple of foreigners also got off the bus and the three of us looked in different directions in search of a room. There was a guy at the bus stand and he told me rooms were available in a guest house directly adjacent. The foreigners and I, independently, decided to check it out and looked at the rooms. The guy said the room was for Rs. 400 but I brought him down to Rs. 250 and settled on it. I guess I could have gotten him down to Rs. 200, but the room was nice and the guys who ran the place seemed like good people, so I let it be.
I parked my bag in the room and went to the reception desk to talk to the guys. They informed me that I was, literally, the first guest of the season and they felt it propitious that it was an Indian. I discovered that the guys were from Delhi and they ran the place for 6 months and then worked in Goa for the rest of year. They were good company and I spent a while talking to them. One of the guys was going out to get provisions and he offered to show me around. After tidying up a bit I left with him and he pointed me in the direction of the main attractions and then left me to explore on my own.
I walked to the monastery first and admired it from the outside but I didn’t go in because I wanted to go at a time when I wasn’t tired and could explore more freely. I walked for a while taking in the topography of the place and then walked out of Tabo to the Tabo Bridge and then turned back. Tabo is full of guest houses and one can find accommodation in the range of Rs. 50 (Monastery dormitory) – Rs. 4500 (Dewachen Resort). There were also local guides for hire if one wanted to go trekking. Tabo is a beautiful place with great views of the mountains and with abundant greenery in sight. It also is famous for producing apples. I enjoyed the walk thoroughly and returned to the hotel, drank the rest of the RS bottle, and fell into a deep slumber.
I woke up at 6:30 A.M because of the slight dehydration caused by the alcohol yesterday. I gulped down the water and looked outside to find pleasant weather and cloud cover. Having had no opportunity to explore the village yesterday I went out for a bit to see what this place was all about. I walked to the inside of the village and found several dry fields and forlorn looking houses and establishments. I quickly turned in the other direction and started walking out of Nako in the direction of Shilkar and there were some views of the mountains but otherwise it was generally devoid of anything interesting. The sun started blazing down and I quickly ran back to the refuge of the hotel.
I decided to have breakfast and this was to be my fondest memory of Nako. For some reason I was feeling ravenous and I settled down for a large meal. I tried the Tibetan Butter Tea which is basically salted tea with melted butter. The taste was odd but certainly not disagreeable and I ordered some Tibetan bread to go along with it. My hunger still not satiated, I ordered an egg parantha and then finally a tall glass of milk tea to wash it all down. This was one of the best meals of my trip. Over breakfast I talked to the hotel owner to see if it was worth staying another day in Nako or not. From what I got from the conversation I decided it wasn’t worth staying and that I’d travel to Tabo.
The bus was at approximately 12 P.M and I had a couple of hours to kill so I went back to my beloved Don Quixote. At 11:30 A.M I descended and sat in front of the hotel (which happened to be a few meters away from the bus stop) waiting for the bus to Tabo. The owner also joined me and we conversed at length about odd topics. He made it sound like Tabo and Kaza would also be as bad as Nako and that I might not like it. I went through a moment of doubt at this stage and seriously considered taking the bus back to Reckong-Peo and then Kalpa and spend the rest of my days there. While I was thinking this the bus to Peo came and stood in my line of vision and it was all I could do to resist the temptation of getting on it. The bus passed and I was a little uncertain of my choice but now all reflection was moot so I just waited for the bus to Tabo.
The bus showed up at 1:30 P.M and it was completely packed. This time I ran straight to the back and climbed onto the top of the bus and tied my bag down. Then I pushed my way into the bus and stood for the rest of the trip. The bus trip would have been unbearable if not for my Ipod. I switched it on, cranked up the volume, and just stared out of the windows avoiding all the noise and people pushing against me and stepping on my feet. The bus stopped at Chango and Sumdo so that the foreigners could have their ILP’s checked. It also stopped at Hurling for a small evening tea break. At about Hurling I noticed two foreigners following us on two Thunderbirds and I envied them greatly. All along the trip I had been looking at the roads and thinking about how nice it would have been on a bike; maybe next time.
We passed through the Tabo wildlife reserve and then finally we reached the Tabo bus stop. I scampered to the top of the bus and, more gracefully this time, managed to descend with my bag. A couple of foreigners also got off the bus and the three of us looked in different directions in search of a room. There was a guy at the bus stand and he told me rooms were available in a guest house directly adjacent. The foreigners and I, independently, decided to check it out and looked at the rooms. The guy said the room was for Rs. 400 but I brought him down to Rs. 250 and settled on it. I guess I could have gotten him down to Rs. 200, but the room was nice and the guys who ran the place seemed like good people, so I let it be.
I parked my bag in the room and went to the reception desk to talk to the guys. They informed me that I was, literally, the first guest of the season and they felt it propitious that it was an Indian. I discovered that the guys were from Delhi and they ran the place for 6 months and then worked in Goa for the rest of year. They were good company and I spent a while talking to them. One of the guys was going out to get provisions and he offered to show me around. After tidying up a bit I left with him and he pointed me in the direction of the main attractions and then left me to explore on my own.
I walked to the monastery first and admired it from the outside but I didn’t go in because I wanted to go at a time when I wasn’t tired and could explore more freely. I walked for a while taking in the topography of the place and then walked out of Tabo to the Tabo Bridge and then turned back. Tabo is full of guest houses and one can find accommodation in the range of Rs. 50 (Monastery dormitory) – Rs. 4500 (Dewachen Resort). There were also local guides for hire if one wanted to go trekking. Tabo is a beautiful place with great views of the mountains and with abundant greenery in sight. It also is famous for producing apples. I enjoyed the walk thoroughly and returned to the hotel, drank the rest of the RS bottle, and fell into a deep slumber.
Kalpa to Nako (16/05/11)
Kalpa to Nako (16/05/11)
I woke at 7:30 A.M and then ate a quick breakfast before I packed up and left the room. I walked to the bus stand and waited there for a while before the bus to Peo showed up. I retreated once more to my chosen corner seat and sat down, with the heavy bag on my lap and unable to move. The bus was a lot more crowded than the last time I took it and a teenage girl squeezed herself in between me and another guy, forcing me to literally try and stick to the corner in an attempt to minimize physical contact with her. I’m very uncomfortable in crowded situations and I try to avoid any significant physical contact as far as is possible under the circumstances. And in this case, it was a female, and this compounded my discomfort greatly. She, however, seemed perfectly content and with complete lack of abandon fidgeted around very often. I pressed my face to the window, hugged my faithful bag, and tried to shut out my mind until we reached Peo.
As we rolled along on the journey, people got off at a couple of places and I could see an empty seat up ahead and I suggested that the girl would be more comfortable there. She, being a mischievous brat, snidely, and to the amusement of the other passengers, replied that she was comfortable where she was and gave me an evil smile; girls these days... As if to add to my suffering the bus started playing an infernal song whose sole lyric by way of endless repetition was, ‘Ishq na karna’. (Don’t fall in love) I heard out the male singer repeat this line several times over and over again and I was relieved when he was done. However, when the female singer started singing the same thing, I couldn’t restrain myself any longer and I said in a loud voice, “Zindagi mein ishq nahi karoonga bhai, bas gaana badal do” (I promise I’ll never fall in love as long as I live, just change the song) and everybody had a good laugh at my frustration; they didn’t change the song. And finally, we reached Peo.
I went to the booking counter and booked a ticket to Nako and I was told the bus was at 12:00 P.M. I had 45 minutes so I sat down and resumed reading Don Quixote. The part of the book where I resumed detailed some extremely hilarious exploits of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza and Cervantes’ wit caused me to burst out laughing uncontrollably. I slowly realized that I was surrounded by people and when I looked up I saw a variety of emotions on peoples’ faces ranging from amusement to admonishment. I was still chuckling a little bit so I decided to put away the book until I was alone and could enjoy it without any social constraints. 12:00 P.M came and went and the bus was nowhere to be seen.
The bus finally showed up at 1:30 P.M and I found my seat next to a young Buddhist monk and some other lethargic person. I had the window seat but my bag prevented me from taking it and I had to sit on the aisle seat (so fancy when used in the context of HRTC ordinary buses) trying to protect my bag from the army of passengers continuously filling the bus. The conductor, a foul tempered man, showed up eventually and demanded to know whose bag mine was. I meekly told him that it belonged to me and he glared at me as if to suggest that I was an abysmal fool and told me to throw the bag on the top of the bus. I was dumbstruck by this suggestion and I tried reasoning with him but he was a hassled man and he told me that I had no other option. Having never climbed to the top of the bus or entrusted my bag to it, I was extremely apprehensive. Completely devoid of grace, I climbed up to the top of the bus, and I was lost as to how I would secure my bag there.
The conductor gave a short blast on his whistle indicating that it was time to move and I hurriedly tied the straps to the railing and prayed to God that they would hold during the journey. Again, clumsily, and amidst much laughter, I made my way down and took my seat. It was much more comfortable without the bag but I was still terrified at the prospect of losing it to one of the sharp turns. For the first 20 kilometers I kept a vigilant watch on both sides of the bus lest my bag tumble down. After that point, though, I was tired and decided to leave the fate of the bag to the Gods. The bus journey was extremely bumpy and the crowd was making me very uncomfortable. Everybody seemed to be buying a ticket for Speelo and I was anxiously awaiting this magical place where some respite seemed to be in order.
Somewhere during the journey and for some reason, my right knee started hurting like the devil and no matter what I did; it only started to get worse. The exponentially increasing sharp pain took my focus away from everything and I was praying for Speelo to show up. I was overjoyed when we finally reached Speelo and I was the veritable bat out of hell getting out of the bus. I stretched my knee a little bit and the pain fast receded. I climbed to the top of the bus to check the condition of my bag and discovered that it was solidly in place; I patted it approvingly and climbed back down. I then took a look around and discovered an alcohol shop. Remembering the lessons of Kalpa, I immediately bought a half of RS for Rs. 180 and settled myself back into the bus. The bus started again soon and rolled along but came to an abrupt stop at Tinku Nallah. A significant landslide had occurred and the machines were trying their best to clear the path but it seemed like a good wait and most of the people got off the bus and watched the process. Several vehicles on either side were backed up and this suggested that this had been going on for a while. After half an hour into the wait, heavy winds started blowing dust all over the place and everyone retreated to the safety of the bus. Yet another 30 minutes passed before the road was finally cleared and we moved again.
The rest of the journey was tiring, boring and extremely dusty. I must have inhaled, swallowed, and had enough dust settle on me sufficient to build a small castle. By the time the distance markers indicated that Nako was close, it was already evening and there were some beautiful landscapes in sight. I tried to take a few pictures but my cheap Kodak camera proved to be utterly useless and I settled back waiting for Nako. We finally reached Nako and the moment I stepped out of the bus, the power went off. Some of the backup street lights were still going and I managed to find a hotel room in the Lovon hotel. The room was expensive by trip standards and was for Rs. 350 a night. He wouldn’t budge on the rate and in the darkness I had no option but to take it.
As expected the phone signals were completely dead and no STD/ISD booth could be found. I was told that even the BSNL phones would only start working after the power was restored. I waited for an hour and the wait didn’t seem promising so I went downstairs to the hotel and ordered myself a little food. Thankfully the power came back on at that point and I managed to put a call through to home from the owner’s cell phone. I ate my chowmein and then went upstairs to have a couple of drinks before I finally crashed.
I woke at 7:30 A.M and then ate a quick breakfast before I packed up and left the room. I walked to the bus stand and waited there for a while before the bus to Peo showed up. I retreated once more to my chosen corner seat and sat down, with the heavy bag on my lap and unable to move. The bus was a lot more crowded than the last time I took it and a teenage girl squeezed herself in between me and another guy, forcing me to literally try and stick to the corner in an attempt to minimize physical contact with her. I’m very uncomfortable in crowded situations and I try to avoid any significant physical contact as far as is possible under the circumstances. And in this case, it was a female, and this compounded my discomfort greatly. She, however, seemed perfectly content and with complete lack of abandon fidgeted around very often. I pressed my face to the window, hugged my faithful bag, and tried to shut out my mind until we reached Peo.
As we rolled along on the journey, people got off at a couple of places and I could see an empty seat up ahead and I suggested that the girl would be more comfortable there. She, being a mischievous brat, snidely, and to the amusement of the other passengers, replied that she was comfortable where she was and gave me an evil smile; girls these days... As if to add to my suffering the bus started playing an infernal song whose sole lyric by way of endless repetition was, ‘Ishq na karna’. (Don’t fall in love) I heard out the male singer repeat this line several times over and over again and I was relieved when he was done. However, when the female singer started singing the same thing, I couldn’t restrain myself any longer and I said in a loud voice, “Zindagi mein ishq nahi karoonga bhai, bas gaana badal do” (I promise I’ll never fall in love as long as I live, just change the song) and everybody had a good laugh at my frustration; they didn’t change the song. And finally, we reached Peo.
I went to the booking counter and booked a ticket to Nako and I was told the bus was at 12:00 P.M. I had 45 minutes so I sat down and resumed reading Don Quixote. The part of the book where I resumed detailed some extremely hilarious exploits of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza and Cervantes’ wit caused me to burst out laughing uncontrollably. I slowly realized that I was surrounded by people and when I looked up I saw a variety of emotions on peoples’ faces ranging from amusement to admonishment. I was still chuckling a little bit so I decided to put away the book until I was alone and could enjoy it without any social constraints. 12:00 P.M came and went and the bus was nowhere to be seen.
The bus finally showed up at 1:30 P.M and I found my seat next to a young Buddhist monk and some other lethargic person. I had the window seat but my bag prevented me from taking it and I had to sit on the aisle seat (so fancy when used in the context of HRTC ordinary buses) trying to protect my bag from the army of passengers continuously filling the bus. The conductor, a foul tempered man, showed up eventually and demanded to know whose bag mine was. I meekly told him that it belonged to me and he glared at me as if to suggest that I was an abysmal fool and told me to throw the bag on the top of the bus. I was dumbstruck by this suggestion and I tried reasoning with him but he was a hassled man and he told me that I had no other option. Having never climbed to the top of the bus or entrusted my bag to it, I was extremely apprehensive. Completely devoid of grace, I climbed up to the top of the bus, and I was lost as to how I would secure my bag there.
The conductor gave a short blast on his whistle indicating that it was time to move and I hurriedly tied the straps to the railing and prayed to God that they would hold during the journey. Again, clumsily, and amidst much laughter, I made my way down and took my seat. It was much more comfortable without the bag but I was still terrified at the prospect of losing it to one of the sharp turns. For the first 20 kilometers I kept a vigilant watch on both sides of the bus lest my bag tumble down. After that point, though, I was tired and decided to leave the fate of the bag to the Gods. The bus journey was extremely bumpy and the crowd was making me very uncomfortable. Everybody seemed to be buying a ticket for Speelo and I was anxiously awaiting this magical place where some respite seemed to be in order.
Somewhere during the journey and for some reason, my right knee started hurting like the devil and no matter what I did; it only started to get worse. The exponentially increasing sharp pain took my focus away from everything and I was praying for Speelo to show up. I was overjoyed when we finally reached Speelo and I was the veritable bat out of hell getting out of the bus. I stretched my knee a little bit and the pain fast receded. I climbed to the top of the bus to check the condition of my bag and discovered that it was solidly in place; I patted it approvingly and climbed back down. I then took a look around and discovered an alcohol shop. Remembering the lessons of Kalpa, I immediately bought a half of RS for Rs. 180 and settled myself back into the bus. The bus started again soon and rolled along but came to an abrupt stop at Tinku Nallah. A significant landslide had occurred and the machines were trying their best to clear the path but it seemed like a good wait and most of the people got off the bus and watched the process. Several vehicles on either side were backed up and this suggested that this had been going on for a while. After half an hour into the wait, heavy winds started blowing dust all over the place and everyone retreated to the safety of the bus. Yet another 30 minutes passed before the road was finally cleared and we moved again.
The rest of the journey was tiring, boring and extremely dusty. I must have inhaled, swallowed, and had enough dust settle on me sufficient to build a small castle. By the time the distance markers indicated that Nako was close, it was already evening and there were some beautiful landscapes in sight. I tried to take a few pictures but my cheap Kodak camera proved to be utterly useless and I settled back waiting for Nako. We finally reached Nako and the moment I stepped out of the bus, the power went off. Some of the backup street lights were still going and I managed to find a hotel room in the Lovon hotel. The room was expensive by trip standards and was for Rs. 350 a night. He wouldn’t budge on the rate and in the darkness I had no option but to take it.
As expected the phone signals were completely dead and no STD/ISD booth could be found. I was told that even the BSNL phones would only start working after the power was restored. I waited for an hour and the wait didn’t seem promising so I went downstairs to the hotel and ordered myself a little food. Thankfully the power came back on at that point and I managed to put a call through to home from the owner’s cell phone. I ate my chowmein and then went upstairs to have a couple of drinks before I finally crashed.
Kalpa: Day Two (15/05/11)
Kalpa: Day Two (15/05/11)
Today was an entirely lazy day for me. I woke up late and looked out at the blazing sun and decided to hang back till the evening to go out and do something. I enjoyed the usage of internet for the last time for at least a week and ordered nice food to go with it. I spent the time gathering information on how best to chart out the trip forward and decided that I would leave for Nako tomorrow and spend a couple of days there before moving on forward to Tabo and then Kaza. The food at the Blue Lotus did not disappoint and I ate to my heart’s content.
Finally, evening came about and I decided to go out walking and exploring a bit. After walking through the town and visiting the Bodhi Mandir and the other two temples, I found a road leading away from Kalpa and I took it. It was a nice little road with greenery and houses on both sides and it was a mostly downhill so I set off at a good pace enjoying the calmness. At several places, I found streams running down the side and onto the road and they were a really pretty sight. I was thoroughly enjoying the clean air, the chilly breeze and the gloomy cloud cover and then I came to a turn where I saw a man leading a bull and a cow up the road.
Both of us were approaching each other at a fairly quick pace when the man suddenly looked at me and started saying, “Bell maaregi, bell maaregi!” In my deluded and idiotic state of mind I was actually very excited at the prospect of seeing a Kinnauri bell ringing bull and started looking at his neck only to find that there was no bell there. He kept on repeating what he said, with an expressionless face and I was most confused as to how and where the blessed bull would find a bell to ring. When the bull and I were almost upon each other it finally dawned on me that the guy was saying, “Bail maaregi!” I glanced upon the bull, my insides having gone cold, and found him readying himself for the charge. In a split second the bull charged and I ran the fastest 10 meters I have ever run and narrowly escaped being gored. I angrily walked up to the man and chastised him at length for, letting such a belligerent bull run free on the road, his utterly incorrect pronunciation, and his accursed calm demeanor when trying to warn a person about a murderous charge about to talk place. For his part, all he had to say was “Bach gaye aap tho.” And then he walked straight on leaving me still shaky and completely incredulous.
After setting my bearings straight, I resolved to remove the incident from my head and I kept walking to and soon came to the end of the road. I turned back, all the while keeping my eyes out for any more ‘bells’, and reached Kalpa after a fairly laborious walk; uphill wasn’t as much fun. I found a high point just across the school and I sat there for a while watching evening turn into night and then went back to the hotel. I ordered a nice meal and sat outside, enjoying the mountain views as much as I enjoyed my food. I decided to turn in early and get some rest in anticipation of the arduous journey to Nako tomorrow.
Today was an entirely lazy day for me. I woke up late and looked out at the blazing sun and decided to hang back till the evening to go out and do something. I enjoyed the usage of internet for the last time for at least a week and ordered nice food to go with it. I spent the time gathering information on how best to chart out the trip forward and decided that I would leave for Nako tomorrow and spend a couple of days there before moving on forward to Tabo and then Kaza. The food at the Blue Lotus did not disappoint and I ate to my heart’s content.
Finally, evening came about and I decided to go out walking and exploring a bit. After walking through the town and visiting the Bodhi Mandir and the other two temples, I found a road leading away from Kalpa and I took it. It was a nice little road with greenery and houses on both sides and it was a mostly downhill so I set off at a good pace enjoying the calmness. At several places, I found streams running down the side and onto the road and they were a really pretty sight. I was thoroughly enjoying the clean air, the chilly breeze and the gloomy cloud cover and then I came to a turn where I saw a man leading a bull and a cow up the road.
Both of us were approaching each other at a fairly quick pace when the man suddenly looked at me and started saying, “Bell maaregi, bell maaregi!” In my deluded and idiotic state of mind I was actually very excited at the prospect of seeing a Kinnauri bell ringing bull and started looking at his neck only to find that there was no bell there. He kept on repeating what he said, with an expressionless face and I was most confused as to how and where the blessed bull would find a bell to ring. When the bull and I were almost upon each other it finally dawned on me that the guy was saying, “Bail maaregi!” I glanced upon the bull, my insides having gone cold, and found him readying himself for the charge. In a split second the bull charged and I ran the fastest 10 meters I have ever run and narrowly escaped being gored. I angrily walked up to the man and chastised him at length for, letting such a belligerent bull run free on the road, his utterly incorrect pronunciation, and his accursed calm demeanor when trying to warn a person about a murderous charge about to talk place. For his part, all he had to say was “Bach gaye aap tho.” And then he walked straight on leaving me still shaky and completely incredulous.
After setting my bearings straight, I resolved to remove the incident from my head and I kept walking to and soon came to the end of the road. I turned back, all the while keeping my eyes out for any more ‘bells’, and reached Kalpa after a fairly laborious walk; uphill wasn’t as much fun. I found a high point just across the school and I sat there for a while watching evening turn into night and then went back to the hotel. I ordered a nice meal and sat outside, enjoying the mountain views as much as I enjoyed my food. I decided to turn in early and get some rest in anticipation of the arduous journey to Nako tomorrow.
Friday, May 20, 2011
In Kaza now
Hey guys,
I've been in Spiti for the last few days and I didn't find a single place with internet and I lost airtel signals as soon as I crossed Speelo. I've been writing dutifully though and once I come back to civilization I'll post the pictures and update the journal. I'm in Kaza right now and the internet costs Rs. 80 per hour; unbelievable. I'm leaving for Kibber in the evening and staying overnight there. Tomorrow I'll return to Kaza and then leave for Delhi on the morning of the 23rd. I should reach Delhi on the 25th, so until then, cheers!
Sarat.
I've been in Spiti for the last few days and I didn't find a single place with internet and I lost airtel signals as soon as I crossed Speelo. I've been writing dutifully though and once I come back to civilization I'll post the pictures and update the journal. I'm in Kaza right now and the internet costs Rs. 80 per hour; unbelievable. I'm leaving for Kibber in the evening and staying overnight there. Tomorrow I'll return to Kaza and then leave for Delhi on the morning of the 23rd. I should reach Delhi on the 25th, so until then, cheers!
Sarat.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Rakcham to Kalpa (14/05/11)
Rakcham to Kalpa (14/05/11)
Today I woke up at 7:05 A.M and immediately rolled out of bed to start preparing for my exit. As I mentioned yesterday, I was a little sad at having to leave Rakcham but as the minutes passed, I started getting excited at the prospect of going somewhere new. I packed my bag quickly using the only method I knew; stuff everything in and organize later when necessary. Somewhere during my mad dash to catch the 10:00 A.M bus to Sangla, I managed to scarf down a wonderful farewell breakfast, pay Mr. Kumar what I owed him, and say my goodbyes to everyone there. I finished my packing late and then literally ran after the bus and somehow managed to board it. The people on the bus, displaying typical Himachali kindness, made space for my bag and me and I was extremely grateful for it.
The bus ride back to Sangla was mostly uneventful except when I remembered the moments of pain during my walk to Rakcham. We reached Sangla pretty quickly and I was dropped off at the bus shelter in the market square. I was unsure about whether or not to eat lunch because that meant risking missing the bus to Peo so I decided to wait till I reached Peo and promised myself a hearty meal once there. I took out Don Quixote and started reading, all the while keeping an eye out for the bus. It took one and half hours before the bus finally showed up and even then there was a ‘break’ of 30 minutes before the bus finally decided to leave for Peo.
The bus was moderately full, just so much that enough space was left for everybody to relax in. As the bus left Sangla the weather took a turn for the worse. Dark clouds seemed to manifest out of nothingness and soon it began to drizzle. The road down to Karcham was decent save for a few bumps here and there but once we passed Karcham, it became a carnival ride. The drizzle turned into full fledged rain and the roads were absolutely horrible. Because I had my heavy backpack with me I had to sit in the corner of the bus right at the very end and this did not help matters the slightest. Every time there was a sharp corner or a large bump in the road, I was flung into the air and then sideways. I had to grip the bar in front of me so hard that my knuckles turned white. A few minutes later the bus abruptly stopped.
I stood up to see what the matter was and saw a huge boulder in the middle of the road and two guys operating heavy machinery to try and push it to the side. All the traffic (slightly misleading, here, ‘traffic’ means two or three vehicles) on either side of the boulder waited and watched the battle of the machines and the boulder in great earnest. I got off the bus despite the rain because I wanted to record this battle and I was very interested to see how they’d manage to clear the road. It took 35 minutes of thrilling action and the boulder was finally pushed to the side of the road allowing the vehicles to pass. As we passed the machines I saw the guys who had been operating them and they looked like they were younger than me. I marveled at their skill but my admiration was immediately put on hold as the bus twisted and turned and jolted me into the air every few minutes.
All this while the bus had been playing Tibetan music and that was a cause of great vexation to me throughout the journey. I’m not trying to stereotype here, but the music that was on the whole time was basically a guy singing in a monotone against the background of an infinite looping music track. I think the HRTC deliberately chose this type of music to lull it’s passengers into a hypnotic trance so that they wouldn’t notice just how crappy the ride actually was. My hunger only made matters worse and I hung onto dear life praying to God to let me reach Peo as soon as possible. That happy moment arrived sooner than I expected and I went straight to a Tibetan food joint and had half a plate of chowmein; so much for the grand meal I promised myself.
After the sorry excuse for a meal I hung around at the bus stop waiting for a bus to Kalpa. 45 minutes passed and there was no sign of a single bus headed in the direction of Kalpa and I wondered if I needed to take a Maxi Cab. Right then a private bus showed up and I boarded it. The bus was only slightly larger than a Tempo and this meant that there was a severe restriction as far as space was concerned. I again had to sit at the corner of the bus with the bag in my lap. To make matters worse my travel companion for the trip was completely drunk and I was left trying to ignore the noxious fumes that flowed in my direction. The trip to Kalpa was relatively short and I spent my time, as always, with my head out the window enjoying the breeze and the scenery that passed us by. And then we reached Kalpa.
The first sight of the Kinner-Kailash range from Kalpa took my breath away. The clouds were visible on the peaks of the mountains and they seemed to be melting into snow right before my eyes. It was some time before I finally threw on my bag and made my way into the village to find accommodation. I had heard of the Blue Lotus hotel’s reputation and I wanted to stay there. I asked if there were any rooms available and I was shown an excellent room whose price was 500 bucks a night. Having honed my skills throughout the course of the trip I bargained the price down to Rs. 250 a night and settled down into my room.
After having spent four nights in a homestay, the hotel room seemed like extravagant luxury to me. The room was really delightful and the view from the balcony outside was stupendous. I quickly left to roam the town before I lost light. I went straight to a Buddhist temple but it was closed so I had to settle for taking some pictures of a Buddha statue and prayer wheels outside of the temple. Next I went to the Durga Mandir and it blew me away. The architecture was typical of the other temples that I had seen in Kinnaur but there seemed to be a historical element present in it that made it the most special. I was admiring the temple and stepped forward to go in when a foreigner lady stepped out of it.
Both of us were startled at the sight of each other and jumped slightly before carefully walking past each other. I don’t think she had seen many sun burned south Indians before today. The temple premises were mostly empty and I spent my time taking pictures and looking at all the intricate wooden carvings. Then, I moved onto the Vishnu Mandir and was equally happy with what I saw. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the sight of dragons guarding the temples of Hindu deities; just one of the things that I absolutely love about eclectic religion. In the Vishnu Mandir there were some HIGHLY interesting carvings of an explicit nature. I’m not exactly orthodox but witnessing them in those circumstances startled me slightly and I photographed them just to make sure they weren’t figments of my imagination (If they were, I think I’d need to see a psychologist).
After the temples I chose to just walk lazily around town looking at the people, the houses and the landscapes. I also saw a huge dog that I discovered to be very friendly. Unfortunately I had no biscuits on me and he lumbered away before I was able to buy some. After walking a while I decided to come back and enjoy the comforts of my room before turning in. I had heard a lot about the quality of the food in this hotel and I decided to order Paneer Makhani and Butter rotis. After having subsisted on simple village fare for 4 days this was to be my weekend luxury meal. Watching the moon-lit snow-clad mountains out of my window I also experienced a sudden craving for alcohol and asked the hotel guy if I could procure any. He said that all they had was beer and that it cost Rs. 120 a bottle. My craving died pretty quickly.
The food showed up a little late but it lived up to all my expectations. It was extremely tasty and the portion sizes were generous. I also had a Campco dark chocolate that I munched on to complete the experience. All in all, it was a very good day and I enjoyed every bit of it. Tomorrow I’ll laze around Kalpa for another day and enjoy this hotel a little longer. Today feels like a vacation from the past four days, haha. Until tomorrow then, cheers!
Today I woke up at 7:05 A.M and immediately rolled out of bed to start preparing for my exit. As I mentioned yesterday, I was a little sad at having to leave Rakcham but as the minutes passed, I started getting excited at the prospect of going somewhere new. I packed my bag quickly using the only method I knew; stuff everything in and organize later when necessary. Somewhere during my mad dash to catch the 10:00 A.M bus to Sangla, I managed to scarf down a wonderful farewell breakfast, pay Mr. Kumar what I owed him, and say my goodbyes to everyone there. I finished my packing late and then literally ran after the bus and somehow managed to board it. The people on the bus, displaying typical Himachali kindness, made space for my bag and me and I was extremely grateful for it.
The bus ride back to Sangla was mostly uneventful except when I remembered the moments of pain during my walk to Rakcham. We reached Sangla pretty quickly and I was dropped off at the bus shelter in the market square. I was unsure about whether or not to eat lunch because that meant risking missing the bus to Peo so I decided to wait till I reached Peo and promised myself a hearty meal once there. I took out Don Quixote and started reading, all the while keeping an eye out for the bus. It took one and half hours before the bus finally showed up and even then there was a ‘break’ of 30 minutes before the bus finally decided to leave for Peo.
The bus was moderately full, just so much that enough space was left for everybody to relax in. As the bus left Sangla the weather took a turn for the worse. Dark clouds seemed to manifest out of nothingness and soon it began to drizzle. The road down to Karcham was decent save for a few bumps here and there but once we passed Karcham, it became a carnival ride. The drizzle turned into full fledged rain and the roads were absolutely horrible. Because I had my heavy backpack with me I had to sit in the corner of the bus right at the very end and this did not help matters the slightest. Every time there was a sharp corner or a large bump in the road, I was flung into the air and then sideways. I had to grip the bar in front of me so hard that my knuckles turned white. A few minutes later the bus abruptly stopped.
I stood up to see what the matter was and saw a huge boulder in the middle of the road and two guys operating heavy machinery to try and push it to the side. All the traffic (slightly misleading, here, ‘traffic’ means two or three vehicles) on either side of the boulder waited and watched the battle of the machines and the boulder in great earnest. I got off the bus despite the rain because I wanted to record this battle and I was very interested to see how they’d manage to clear the road. It took 35 minutes of thrilling action and the boulder was finally pushed to the side of the road allowing the vehicles to pass. As we passed the machines I saw the guys who had been operating them and they looked like they were younger than me. I marveled at their skill but my admiration was immediately put on hold as the bus twisted and turned and jolted me into the air every few minutes.
All this while the bus had been playing Tibetan music and that was a cause of great vexation to me throughout the journey. I’m not trying to stereotype here, but the music that was on the whole time was basically a guy singing in a monotone against the background of an infinite looping music track. I think the HRTC deliberately chose this type of music to lull it’s passengers into a hypnotic trance so that they wouldn’t notice just how crappy the ride actually was. My hunger only made matters worse and I hung onto dear life praying to God to let me reach Peo as soon as possible. That happy moment arrived sooner than I expected and I went straight to a Tibetan food joint and had half a plate of chowmein; so much for the grand meal I promised myself.
After the sorry excuse for a meal I hung around at the bus stop waiting for a bus to Kalpa. 45 minutes passed and there was no sign of a single bus headed in the direction of Kalpa and I wondered if I needed to take a Maxi Cab. Right then a private bus showed up and I boarded it. The bus was only slightly larger than a Tempo and this meant that there was a severe restriction as far as space was concerned. I again had to sit at the corner of the bus with the bag in my lap. To make matters worse my travel companion for the trip was completely drunk and I was left trying to ignore the noxious fumes that flowed in my direction. The trip to Kalpa was relatively short and I spent my time, as always, with my head out the window enjoying the breeze and the scenery that passed us by. And then we reached Kalpa.
The first sight of the Kinner-Kailash range from Kalpa took my breath away. The clouds were visible on the peaks of the mountains and they seemed to be melting into snow right before my eyes. It was some time before I finally threw on my bag and made my way into the village to find accommodation. I had heard of the Blue Lotus hotel’s reputation and I wanted to stay there. I asked if there were any rooms available and I was shown an excellent room whose price was 500 bucks a night. Having honed my skills throughout the course of the trip I bargained the price down to Rs. 250 a night and settled down into my room.
After having spent four nights in a homestay, the hotel room seemed like extravagant luxury to me. The room was really delightful and the view from the balcony outside was stupendous. I quickly left to roam the town before I lost light. I went straight to a Buddhist temple but it was closed so I had to settle for taking some pictures of a Buddha statue and prayer wheels outside of the temple. Next I went to the Durga Mandir and it blew me away. The architecture was typical of the other temples that I had seen in Kinnaur but there seemed to be a historical element present in it that made it the most special. I was admiring the temple and stepped forward to go in when a foreigner lady stepped out of it.
Both of us were startled at the sight of each other and jumped slightly before carefully walking past each other. I don’t think she had seen many sun burned south Indians before today. The temple premises were mostly empty and I spent my time taking pictures and looking at all the intricate wooden carvings. Then, I moved onto the Vishnu Mandir and was equally happy with what I saw. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the sight of dragons guarding the temples of Hindu deities; just one of the things that I absolutely love about eclectic religion. In the Vishnu Mandir there were some HIGHLY interesting carvings of an explicit nature. I’m not exactly orthodox but witnessing them in those circumstances startled me slightly and I photographed them just to make sure they weren’t figments of my imagination (If they were, I think I’d need to see a psychologist).
After the temples I chose to just walk lazily around town looking at the people, the houses and the landscapes. I also saw a huge dog that I discovered to be very friendly. Unfortunately I had no biscuits on me and he lumbered away before I was able to buy some. After walking a while I decided to come back and enjoy the comforts of my room before turning in. I had heard a lot about the quality of the food in this hotel and I decided to order Paneer Makhani and Butter rotis. After having subsisted on simple village fare for 4 days this was to be my weekend luxury meal. Watching the moon-lit snow-clad mountains out of my window I also experienced a sudden craving for alcohol and asked the hotel guy if I could procure any. He said that all they had was beer and that it cost Rs. 120 a bottle. My craving died pretty quickly.
The food showed up a little late but it lived up to all my expectations. It was extremely tasty and the portion sizes were generous. I also had a Campco dark chocolate that I munched on to complete the experience. All in all, it was a very good day and I enjoyed every bit of it. Tomorrow I’ll laze around Kalpa for another day and enjoy this hotel a little longer. Today feels like a vacation from the past four days, haha. Until tomorrow then, cheers!
Rakcham: Day Four (13/05/11)
Rakcham: Day Four (13/05/11)
I woke up late today and immediately checked myself in the mirror. The sun burn looked just as bad as it had yesterday and I was pretty disappointed. I don’t know if I was expecting to wake up and see my face magically restored to its pre-UV exposure prime, but still the utter lack of improvement was a downer and that seemed to be the theme of the day. I had till afternoon to catch the bus to Chitkul so I spent the morning lazing around reading Don Quixote. Cervantes’ wit captured me completely and I didn’t realize the time passing away. I checked the time at 11:25 A.M and dashed out of the house to the bus stop lest I miss the bus to Chitkul. Mr. Kumar’s daughter was managing the general store and she told me that the bus wouldn’t show up till at least 12:30 P.M. I wished then that I had remembered to pack Quixote and settled down in front of the shop waiting for the bus to show up.
Mr. Kumar’s daughter (I don’t know her name) eventually strolled over and started talking to me. I found out that she worked at the university in Rampur and that she was pretty knowledgeable about the area and also the terrain. We spent some time discussing her life in Rakcham and my life in Hyderabad and it was a nice respite from the utter lack of conversation I usually have had to suffer during this trip. Eventually she got a customer and left me to cater to him. The guy worked in the village and he wanted to get his Airtel prepaid topped up by Rs. 50. She informed him that the recharge cards hadn’t arrived from Sangla yet and that he needed to come back in the evening to get a recharge. I, however, had an idea.
My plan was to use GPRS and my bank account to get his phone recharged online and save the day. I asked him for his number and he gave me a phone number 11 digits long. I tried to explain to him that a phone number was only 10 digits long but he was quite confidently emphatic in stating that he had the right number and it was indeed 11 digits long. The shopkeeper’s daughter then fired off some choice Tibetan at him and he conceded that he might have written down the number incorrectly. We tried several permutations and combinations of the number before we lost our patience. She then called up the household the guy worked at and asked for the number and got the right one. It took 10 minutes more to complete the task after the number was gotten and I managed to save the day, albeit not as gracefully as I wanted to.
Mr. Kumar’s daughter then locked up the shop and left to have lunch, leaving me alone up front. I cranked up the music on my Ipod and then waited for the bus to Chitkul. During my wait, a private bus to Lippa showed up and I mentally made a note to take this bus to Peo tomorrow. At about 1:30 the bus to Chitkul finally arrived and I boarded it and paid the conductor Rs.11 for a ticket. After three days of walking, taking a bus felt very odd. The bus was filled with the locals, a local drunk, and also a middle-aged tourist who seemed to be traveling alone. I thought about maybe talking to him, but eventually decided not to. I spent my trip looking out the window and at the wonderful road leading up to Chitkul. I saw the pine forests at Mastrang and I felt really bad that I didn’t walk. Walking today, however, would have meant a step closer to malignant melanoma since the sun was shining on full blast. I made my peace with it and eagerly waited for Chitkul.
The bus arrived at Chitkul shortly afterwards and dropped us off at the entrance. The sun was still shining brightly when I got off and I scampered for the shade. However, this was only a symbolic act on my behalf since it was almost impossible to find shade anywhere in the village. The full and bright sun shone down fiercely and there was no escaping it. I realized there was no point in trying to hide and felt that the best thing to do would be to finish up as quickly as possible and take refuge at the shelter in the bus stand. I sought out the temple first and was shown a way into the village. When I reached the temple, I found out that it was being renovated and was for all intents and purposes, not operational. From what I could see, though, it was built in the exact same style of the Dev Mandir and Shamsher Mandir I had been to. It was a slight let down.
Then I took the trail leading up to the Nagasthi check point and had gone merely a few hundred meters when the sky suddenly changed and dark clouds began to converge. I witnessed firsthand the bipolarity of the weather that I had heard of before. In the next few minutes the temperature dropped by several degrees and extremely chilly winds began to blow. It also started to drizzle slightly and I turned back immediately to get to the safety of the bus shelter. I sought refuge there and waited the rain out. I love the sight of inclement weather anywhere and here in the mountains it was even more breathtaking. When the rain stopped it was already 3:00 P.M and the bus back to Rakcham was due any minute. I limited my explorations to a few hundred meters from the bus stop and took some pictures of the valley and the mountains. The views were spectacular and it was supposedly the last village of India, but to me, it wasn’t really that interesting or exciting.
Having suffered the wrath of the cold weather for an hour and a half I desperately wanted to go back to Rakcham to the safety of my room. I was elated to see the bus come in at 3:45 P.M and ran to board it. It was only me and another shady looking guy that boarded and we left Chitkul at 3:55 P.M. On the way back I was again reminded of how beautiful the road was and I was kicking myself for not being able to do the walk. I guess I’ll just have something left to do when I come back at a later time. On the way a delivery truck materialized in the middle of the road and the bus had to reverse back quite a long way to let the truck pass. I marveled at the skill of the driver who just kept on going without as much as a blink. After the truck passed we crossed Mastrang once again and reached Rakcham a little while later.
As I got off I observed a group of 4 British tourists who were doing the usual foreign tourist things; taking pictures of everything, trying to use sign language to communicate with the locals, and talking in loud voices. I have nothing against such things, they were only having fun and I was glad to see a group of foreigners in Rakcham. The ones that I had seen up until now were mostly in Sangla and Chitkul; I was glad that Rakcham was getting a little piece of the action too. I went back to the home, rested for a while, and then left on a short stroll in the evening.
As I stepped out of the house, it hit me for the first time that I was going to be leaving Rakcham tomorrow. I felt incredibly bad at the realization and walked slowly down the road of the village that had been my home for the past four days. I walked to the bank of the river and stood for a while just gazing at the flowing water. It was a little ridiculous to realize how attached I had become to a place that had none of my friends or family. But something about staying here and the prospect of leaving that something behind tugged at my heart and I made my way back deep in thought. When I came back to the house, I heard the temple bells ringing and I realized that I hadn’t yet visited a single temple when it was open for worship. I quickly put on my slippers and ran to the Shamsher Dev temple.
Two village youths were opening up the temple and as soon as they saw me they asked me what I was doing there. I was a little taken aback by this as it was a complete 180 from the hospitality that had been prevalent in Rakcham. I told them that I was just there to see the temple and that I’d be out of their way. One of the guys told me that the temple was a local deity and that outsiders weren’t allowed. That hit me very hard. I thanked him and started walking out of the temple. The fact that I was an outsider was very obvious to me and not new knowledge but hearing it said in that way was a little hard to digest for some reason. For me, it just laid the truth bare, that I was a visitor desperate and dissatisfied with his life looking for some place to call home and that is why I felt so bad leaving. It was a hard realization, but I’ll live.
I came back to the house again and was served a grand meal (in honor of my departure tomorrow, I’m guessing). Tomorrow I leave for Kalpa with a heavy heart and fond memories. I’m going to miss Rakcham and I’ll definitely be back. Until tomorrow then comrades, cheers!
I woke up late today and immediately checked myself in the mirror. The sun burn looked just as bad as it had yesterday and I was pretty disappointed. I don’t know if I was expecting to wake up and see my face magically restored to its pre-UV exposure prime, but still the utter lack of improvement was a downer and that seemed to be the theme of the day. I had till afternoon to catch the bus to Chitkul so I spent the morning lazing around reading Don Quixote. Cervantes’ wit captured me completely and I didn’t realize the time passing away. I checked the time at 11:25 A.M and dashed out of the house to the bus stop lest I miss the bus to Chitkul. Mr. Kumar’s daughter was managing the general store and she told me that the bus wouldn’t show up till at least 12:30 P.M. I wished then that I had remembered to pack Quixote and settled down in front of the shop waiting for the bus to show up.
Mr. Kumar’s daughter (I don’t know her name) eventually strolled over and started talking to me. I found out that she worked at the university in Rampur and that she was pretty knowledgeable about the area and also the terrain. We spent some time discussing her life in Rakcham and my life in Hyderabad and it was a nice respite from the utter lack of conversation I usually have had to suffer during this trip. Eventually she got a customer and left me to cater to him. The guy worked in the village and he wanted to get his Airtel prepaid topped up by Rs. 50. She informed him that the recharge cards hadn’t arrived from Sangla yet and that he needed to come back in the evening to get a recharge. I, however, had an idea.
My plan was to use GPRS and my bank account to get his phone recharged online and save the day. I asked him for his number and he gave me a phone number 11 digits long. I tried to explain to him that a phone number was only 10 digits long but he was quite confidently emphatic in stating that he had the right number and it was indeed 11 digits long. The shopkeeper’s daughter then fired off some choice Tibetan at him and he conceded that he might have written down the number incorrectly. We tried several permutations and combinations of the number before we lost our patience. She then called up the household the guy worked at and asked for the number and got the right one. It took 10 minutes more to complete the task after the number was gotten and I managed to save the day, albeit not as gracefully as I wanted to.
Mr. Kumar’s daughter then locked up the shop and left to have lunch, leaving me alone up front. I cranked up the music on my Ipod and then waited for the bus to Chitkul. During my wait, a private bus to Lippa showed up and I mentally made a note to take this bus to Peo tomorrow. At about 1:30 the bus to Chitkul finally arrived and I boarded it and paid the conductor Rs.11 for a ticket. After three days of walking, taking a bus felt very odd. The bus was filled with the locals, a local drunk, and also a middle-aged tourist who seemed to be traveling alone. I thought about maybe talking to him, but eventually decided not to. I spent my trip looking out the window and at the wonderful road leading up to Chitkul. I saw the pine forests at Mastrang and I felt really bad that I didn’t walk. Walking today, however, would have meant a step closer to malignant melanoma since the sun was shining on full blast. I made my peace with it and eagerly waited for Chitkul.
The bus arrived at Chitkul shortly afterwards and dropped us off at the entrance. The sun was still shining brightly when I got off and I scampered for the shade. However, this was only a symbolic act on my behalf since it was almost impossible to find shade anywhere in the village. The full and bright sun shone down fiercely and there was no escaping it. I realized there was no point in trying to hide and felt that the best thing to do would be to finish up as quickly as possible and take refuge at the shelter in the bus stand. I sought out the temple first and was shown a way into the village. When I reached the temple, I found out that it was being renovated and was for all intents and purposes, not operational. From what I could see, though, it was built in the exact same style of the Dev Mandir and Shamsher Mandir I had been to. It was a slight let down.
Then I took the trail leading up to the Nagasthi check point and had gone merely a few hundred meters when the sky suddenly changed and dark clouds began to converge. I witnessed firsthand the bipolarity of the weather that I had heard of before. In the next few minutes the temperature dropped by several degrees and extremely chilly winds began to blow. It also started to drizzle slightly and I turned back immediately to get to the safety of the bus shelter. I sought refuge there and waited the rain out. I love the sight of inclement weather anywhere and here in the mountains it was even more breathtaking. When the rain stopped it was already 3:00 P.M and the bus back to Rakcham was due any minute. I limited my explorations to a few hundred meters from the bus stop and took some pictures of the valley and the mountains. The views were spectacular and it was supposedly the last village of India, but to me, it wasn’t really that interesting or exciting.
Having suffered the wrath of the cold weather for an hour and a half I desperately wanted to go back to Rakcham to the safety of my room. I was elated to see the bus come in at 3:45 P.M and ran to board it. It was only me and another shady looking guy that boarded and we left Chitkul at 3:55 P.M. On the way back I was again reminded of how beautiful the road was and I was kicking myself for not being able to do the walk. I guess I’ll just have something left to do when I come back at a later time. On the way a delivery truck materialized in the middle of the road and the bus had to reverse back quite a long way to let the truck pass. I marveled at the skill of the driver who just kept on going without as much as a blink. After the truck passed we crossed Mastrang once again and reached Rakcham a little while later.
As I got off I observed a group of 4 British tourists who were doing the usual foreign tourist things; taking pictures of everything, trying to use sign language to communicate with the locals, and talking in loud voices. I have nothing against such things, they were only having fun and I was glad to see a group of foreigners in Rakcham. The ones that I had seen up until now were mostly in Sangla and Chitkul; I was glad that Rakcham was getting a little piece of the action too. I went back to the home, rested for a while, and then left on a short stroll in the evening.
As I stepped out of the house, it hit me for the first time that I was going to be leaving Rakcham tomorrow. I felt incredibly bad at the realization and walked slowly down the road of the village that had been my home for the past four days. I walked to the bank of the river and stood for a while just gazing at the flowing water. It was a little ridiculous to realize how attached I had become to a place that had none of my friends or family. But something about staying here and the prospect of leaving that something behind tugged at my heart and I made my way back deep in thought. When I came back to the house, I heard the temple bells ringing and I realized that I hadn’t yet visited a single temple when it was open for worship. I quickly put on my slippers and ran to the Shamsher Dev temple.
Two village youths were opening up the temple and as soon as they saw me they asked me what I was doing there. I was a little taken aback by this as it was a complete 180 from the hospitality that had been prevalent in Rakcham. I told them that I was just there to see the temple and that I’d be out of their way. One of the guys told me that the temple was a local deity and that outsiders weren’t allowed. That hit me very hard. I thanked him and started walking out of the temple. The fact that I was an outsider was very obvious to me and not new knowledge but hearing it said in that way was a little hard to digest for some reason. For me, it just laid the truth bare, that I was a visitor desperate and dissatisfied with his life looking for some place to call home and that is why I felt so bad leaving. It was a hard realization, but I’ll live.
I came back to the house again and was served a grand meal (in honor of my departure tomorrow, I’m guessing). Tomorrow I leave for Kalpa with a heavy heart and fond memories. I’m going to miss Rakcham and I’ll definitely be back. Until tomorrow then comrades, cheers!
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Rakcham: Day Three (12/05/11)
Rakcham: Day Three (12/05/11)
Today I woke up at 8:00 A.M having suffered no disturbances through the night. Apparently the shamans seem to work long distance. Having wasted an entire day indoors yesterday, I was determined to get out of the house as soon as possible and go out exploring. I went downstairs to take a shower and was met with a horrific sight when I looked at myself in the mirror. The sunburn that I suffered was at an extreme level, I’m guessing, and I looked charcoal black with the skin peeling off in some areas. It was a really bad situation and I didn’t want to compound it further. I knew that staying indoors was the sensible option but I really couldn’t waste more days just sitting around twiddling my thumbs waiting for the sunburn to heal. I washed my face with cold water, dabbed sun screen on, put on my sun glasses and tied a handkerchief around my face and left the home at 10:00 A.M.
I planned to take a route up to the glacier that DD had told me about yesterday.
I stocked up on water and snacks and set out on the route towards the river. I don’t know what it is about the river that captures my attention so much but every time I see the crystal clear Baspa, I am compelled to stop and stare for a few minutes. I spent some time watching the river and then set off towards the glacier. I passed a couple of camp sites on the way that looked empty for the most part. They appeared to be the cheaper cousins of the Igloo, Kinner, and Banjara camp ventures. I came across a lot of grazing cows along the way, all of who seemed to be very interested in my presence. I gingerly stepped past each cow and made it to the place where I could see the glacial stream flowing across the path.
I scanned the area visually, decided on a route and set off. It wasn’t easy going and it took some trekking to get past the initial streams, ploughed dry fields, and the shrubs.
I had to work hard to get past the rocks and the shrubs to a point where the glaciers were visible. After that it was an upward climb through the rocks to get to the first piece of the glacier. The rocks were generally stable but every so often I put my foot on a rock that would have twisted my ankle had it not been for my trusty trekking shoes. The joy I felt at reaching the first glacier cannot be described in words. From far away they looked like white construction rubble, but up close, the glacier piece was shimmering in the sunshine and beautiful to look at. There was a layer of dust and twigs on it but I dug away fervently to reveal beautiful white ice. I spent some time making ice balls and flinging them into the stream; the novelty wore off soon.
After I was done playing the fool, I looked upwards and saw what looked like a trail leading up to the top of the hill (or mountain, my geology is very weak). It looked a little difficult but my impulsiveness and simian curiosity took over and I started to make my way up. The trail was a little worn out, but held up for the most part in the beginning. There were rocks that seemed to be strategically placed for handholds and footholds when it got steep. Somewhere along the halfway point the trail got extremely slippery and I had to move slowly and precisely to make sure I wouldn’t fall back. 
If I had fallen back, I’d have gone bouncing off the slope and smack onto the rocks. Every 10 or 15 minutes I’d stop to catch my breath and appreciate the wonderful view of the Bana Sur Kailash range. Every time I thought the trail was getting a little risky and that it would be better to stop, I glanced at the top and couldn’t help but continue once again. Eventually though, I came to a sheer rock face and had no option but to stop. I had the curiosity of a simian but none of the skill. I sat there for a while enjoying the wind blowing droplets of ice cold water onto my face. After about 20 minutes I began the descent.
The descent was a little tricky and I had to focus completely to make sure that I wouldn’t slip and go sliding off the hill. It took longer than the ascent and I lost my way a little bit and followed another trail which was slightly more slippery. I finally made it back to the rocks and the glacier and I couldn’t resist playing with the ice one more time before I finally decided that it was quite enough. I turned back and started making my way through the dense shrubbery and again lost the trail. I was wading through the shrubs when I heard somebody call out to me. They were two teenagers from the village and they asked me where I was from. I regarded them suspiciously and answered in a cold manner. They seemed not to have picked up on my cold demeanor and smilingly told me that I was going the wrong way and that there was an easy trail out. They pointed me in the right direction, told me to have a nice day, and went off to do their work.
I realized that all they had wanted to do was to point me in the right direction. It was a bloody shame that such a level of mistrust existed in me that I assumed the worst even before I found out their intention. I suppose the city breeds that into us.
I didn’t have much time for self remonstration or introspection however; the trek demanded my complete attention. It took some doing but soon I was back on the road that I took from Rakcham. I walked further along the road and came to some pasture lands where the cows were enjoying their buffet. There were a few streams here and there and some big enough that a wooden bridge was needed to cross them. The landscape soon got redundant and I decided to head back to Rakcham for lunch.
I rested a while till the evening and then took another trail from inside the village that took me on the top of the hillside that the village rested on, all the way over the river and to the very beginning of Rakcham, just opposite of the Shambhu guest house.
I had to get by a very belligerent head-butting sheep and its brother-in-arms, a yak-cow progeny, but I made it to the trail and it was a lovely hour’s worth of walking. The trail ran through the middle of rock formations and there were lovely flowers growing on each side. I took a full circle and came back by the normal road to the village and decided to call it a day. Tomorrow I plan to go to Chitkul and see what is to be done there. Until then, cheers!
Today I woke up at 8:00 A.M having suffered no disturbances through the night. Apparently the shamans seem to work long distance. Having wasted an entire day indoors yesterday, I was determined to get out of the house as soon as possible and go out exploring. I went downstairs to take a shower and was met with a horrific sight when I looked at myself in the mirror. The sunburn that I suffered was at an extreme level, I’m guessing, and I looked charcoal black with the skin peeling off in some areas. It was a really bad situation and I didn’t want to compound it further. I knew that staying indoors was the sensible option but I really couldn’t waste more days just sitting around twiddling my thumbs waiting for the sunburn to heal. I washed my face with cold water, dabbed sun screen on, put on my sun glasses and tied a handkerchief around my face and left the home at 10:00 A.M.
I planned to take a route up to the glacier that DD had told me about yesterday.
I stocked up on water and snacks and set out on the route towards the river. I don’t know what it is about the river that captures my attention so much but every time I see the crystal clear Baspa, I am compelled to stop and stare for a few minutes. I spent some time watching the river and then set off towards the glacier. I passed a couple of camp sites on the way that looked empty for the most part. They appeared to be the cheaper cousins of the Igloo, Kinner, and Banjara camp ventures. I came across a lot of grazing cows along the way, all of who seemed to be very interested in my presence. I gingerly stepped past each cow and made it to the place where I could see the glacial stream flowing across the path.I scanned the area visually, decided on a route and set off. It wasn’t easy going and it took some trekking to get past the initial streams, ploughed dry fields, and the shrubs.
I had to work hard to get past the rocks and the shrubs to a point where the glaciers were visible. After that it was an upward climb through the rocks to get to the first piece of the glacier. The rocks were generally stable but every so often I put my foot on a rock that would have twisted my ankle had it not been for my trusty trekking shoes. The joy I felt at reaching the first glacier cannot be described in words. From far away they looked like white construction rubble, but up close, the glacier piece was shimmering in the sunshine and beautiful to look at. There was a layer of dust and twigs on it but I dug away fervently to reveal beautiful white ice. I spent some time making ice balls and flinging them into the stream; the novelty wore off soon. 
After I was done playing the fool, I looked upwards and saw what looked like a trail leading up to the top of the hill (or mountain, my geology is very weak). It looked a little difficult but my impulsiveness and simian curiosity took over and I started to make my way up. The trail was a little worn out, but held up for the most part in the beginning. There were rocks that seemed to be strategically placed for handholds and footholds when it got steep. Somewhere along the halfway point the trail got extremely slippery and I had to move slowly and precisely to make sure I wouldn’t fall back. 
If I had fallen back, I’d have gone bouncing off the slope and smack onto the rocks. Every 10 or 15 minutes I’d stop to catch my breath and appreciate the wonderful view of the Bana Sur Kailash range. Every time I thought the trail was getting a little risky and that it would be better to stop, I glanced at the top and couldn’t help but continue once again. Eventually though, I came to a sheer rock face and had no option but to stop. I had the curiosity of a simian but none of the skill. I sat there for a while enjoying the wind blowing droplets of ice cold water onto my face. After about 20 minutes I began the descent.The descent was a little tricky and I had to focus completely to make sure that I wouldn’t slip and go sliding off the hill. It took longer than the ascent and I lost my way a little bit and followed another trail which was slightly more slippery. I finally made it back to the rocks and the glacier and I couldn’t resist playing with the ice one more time before I finally decided that it was quite enough. I turned back and started making my way through the dense shrubbery and again lost the trail. I was wading through the shrubs when I heard somebody call out to me. They were two teenagers from the village and they asked me where I was from. I regarded them suspiciously and answered in a cold manner. They seemed not to have picked up on my cold demeanor and smilingly told me that I was going the wrong way and that there was an easy trail out. They pointed me in the right direction, told me to have a nice day, and went off to do their work.
I realized that all they had wanted to do was to point me in the right direction. It was a bloody shame that such a level of mistrust existed in me that I assumed the worst even before I found out their intention. I suppose the city breeds that into us.
I didn’t have much time for self remonstration or introspection however; the trek demanded my complete attention. It took some doing but soon I was back on the road that I took from Rakcham. I walked further along the road and came to some pasture lands where the cows were enjoying their buffet. There were a few streams here and there and some big enough that a wooden bridge was needed to cross them. The landscape soon got redundant and I decided to head back to Rakcham for lunch. I rested a while till the evening and then took another trail from inside the village that took me on the top of the hillside that the village rested on, all the way over the river and to the very beginning of Rakcham, just opposite of the Shambhu guest house.
I had to get by a very belligerent head-butting sheep and its brother-in-arms, a yak-cow progeny, but I made it to the trail and it was a lovely hour’s worth of walking. The trail ran through the middle of rock formations and there were lovely flowers growing on each side. I took a full circle and came back by the normal road to the village and decided to call it a day. Tomorrow I plan to go to Chitkul and see what is to be done there. Until then, cheers!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Rakcham: Day Two (11/5/11)
Rakcham: Day Two (11/05/11)
Today I woke up at 3:17 A.M for no reason at all. This is getting slightly frustrating; I might have to seek out a Kinnauri Shaman to get some answers. I forced myself to sleep again and finally woke up at 8:30 A.M when Mr. Vinod Kumar (the owner of the homestay) knocked on the door with some tea. I got off the bed and my left knee immediately buckled under me. I gingerly steadied myself and tried to place some weight on it but it hurt like the devil. My left knee was damaged in an accident a few years ago and had not healed 100%. All the walking over the two days seemed to have exacerbated the condition and I needed some rest. In light of the situation I decided not to go out today and instead stay home and work on the blog and try to upload some pictures.
It was painfully slow work and Mr. Kumar’s daughter, a veritable angel, got me food at regular intervals and saw to my needs. I rested till about 5:00 P.M and couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get out and so I did. I picked up my camera and walked slowly into the village towards the temples.
The first temple that I visited was built in the style of the Dev Mandir in Batseri. It had doors adorned with dragons and elements of Buddhism and Hinduism eclectically featured. I wish we had temples like this in South India. Next, I went to a Shiv Mandir in the village but it was closed down. I walked out of the village and headed towards the general store that Mr. Kumar owned. There I called Debashis Dey and asked if we could meet.
Mr. Dey moved to Rakcham from Mumbai in the last year and has been there ever since. He runs two websites, http://www.rakcham.com and http://himalayandiary.com. I came across his websites when I was researching information to develop my itinerary. He has done an excellent job in capturing the life in Rakcham, both in photographs and words. Through his website and posts he imparts invaluable information to aspiring travelers like me. One of the reasons why I chose to visit Rakcham was because of his websites. I had left him a message asking him if there was a chance of meeting and he replied with an affirmative and his number. Today I got to meet him and talk to him about his life here in Rakcham.
Mr. Dey was an affable man who patiently answered all my questions. He told me that he had moved to Rakcham from Mumbai after selling all his assets and leaving everything behind. He told me that he had wanted to live in a pollution free environment and looked over several other options including Dharamshala, Manali, and Shimla before settling in Rakcham. He explained to me how life progressed here and how beautiful and pristine everything was. He is also a veteran, having survived the previous winter which saw Rakcham receive about 18 feet of snowfall. He answered several questions about the day to day life there and then asked me about my plans. He had some helpful insights and showed me several paths where I could trek to. I was grateful for all the first hand information and then he left asking me to call him if I needed any help.
With the next couple of days’ plans ready in my mind I came back to the house to rest some more and wake up early tomorrow to see what I can do with my knee. Tomorrow should be an interesting day and hopefully much more. Until then, cheers!
Today I woke up at 3:17 A.M for no reason at all. This is getting slightly frustrating; I might have to seek out a Kinnauri Shaman to get some answers. I forced myself to sleep again and finally woke up at 8:30 A.M when Mr. Vinod Kumar (the owner of the homestay) knocked on the door with some tea. I got off the bed and my left knee immediately buckled under me. I gingerly steadied myself and tried to place some weight on it but it hurt like the devil. My left knee was damaged in an accident a few years ago and had not healed 100%. All the walking over the two days seemed to have exacerbated the condition and I needed some rest. In light of the situation I decided not to go out today and instead stay home and work on the blog and try to upload some pictures.
It was painfully slow work and Mr. Kumar’s daughter, a veritable angel, got me food at regular intervals and saw to my needs. I rested till about 5:00 P.M and couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get out and so I did. I picked up my camera and walked slowly into the village towards the temples.
The first temple that I visited was built in the style of the Dev Mandir in Batseri. It had doors adorned with dragons and elements of Buddhism and Hinduism eclectically featured. I wish we had temples like this in South India. Next, I went to a Shiv Mandir in the village but it was closed down. I walked out of the village and headed towards the general store that Mr. Kumar owned. There I called Debashis Dey and asked if we could meet.Mr. Dey moved to Rakcham from Mumbai in the last year and has been there ever since. He runs two websites, http://www.rakcham.com and http://himalayandiary.com. I came across his websites when I was researching information to develop my itinerary. He has done an excellent job in capturing the life in Rakcham, both in photographs and words. Through his website and posts he imparts invaluable information to aspiring travelers like me. One of the reasons why I chose to visit Rakcham was because of his websites. I had left him a message asking him if there was a chance of meeting and he replied with an affirmative and his number. Today I got to meet him and talk to him about his life here in Rakcham.
Mr. Dey was an affable man who patiently answered all my questions. He told me that he had moved to Rakcham from Mumbai after selling all his assets and leaving everything behind. He told me that he had wanted to live in a pollution free environment and looked over several other options including Dharamshala, Manali, and Shimla before settling in Rakcham. He explained to me how life progressed here and how beautiful and pristine everything was. He is also a veteran, having survived the previous winter which saw Rakcham receive about 18 feet of snowfall. He answered several questions about the day to day life there and then asked me about my plans. He had some helpful insights and showed me several paths where I could trek to. I was grateful for all the first hand information and then he left asking me to call him if I needed any help.
With the next couple of days’ plans ready in my mind I came back to the house to rest some more and wake up early tomorrow to see what I can do with my knee. Tomorrow should be an interesting day and hopefully much more. Until then, cheers!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Sangla to Rakcham (10/05/11)
Sangla to Rakcham (10/05/11)
As if to display some amount of variation, I woke up at 5:24 A.M today, cursed whatever was causing me to wake up at such ungodly hours, and immediately went back to sleep. I woke up later at 7:30 A.M and worked out for an hour. After that I went to the market square to stock up on rations that I needed for my walk to Rakcham. I drank some tea, ate a cream scone (Yes, I am a creature of habit, sue me), and also tried an omelet. My opinion was that he should just stick to making tea. I was still ravenous so I went to Anoopam bar and restaurant and ordered an egg parantha. It was absolutely delicious and I had him make two more to take on the walk with me. I bought a couple of liters of water, two small packets of chips, and a packet of biscuits. I also bought sunscreen with SPF 50+++ because I realized in the morning that I had suffered severe sun burn the previous day. The problem with cold weather is you don’t realize just how damaging the bright sun is to your skin. With all my supplies in hand I went back to clean out the room and vacate.
I came downstairs to turn in my key and was given a nice little bill to pay up. I was shocked to see that the guy had charged me Rs. 165 for ONE meal of Dal, Jeera Rice, and an Omelet that I had ordered the night before. I was very irritated by this and I spent 5 minutes vehemently expressing my displeasure at this act of greed. In the end I paid him Rs. 150 and stormed out; thank god I hadn’t ordered more. The name of the hotel is Paradise Guest House so if you stay there, be warned, don’t order anything to eat. You’re much better off at Anoopam’s which, though expensive, serves quality food. In a foul mood, I hoisted the 20 Kg+ backpack on and started walking out of Sangla at about 11 A.M.
I saw the Cafe 42 establishment once more and quickly took a picture before the dour faced man showed up again. The walk to Rakcham was 12 kilometers away according to the map and I gave myself three hours to reach it; including all photo-op, meal and water stops. Remembering the walk yesterday, I mentally made notes to stop and rest at pre-determined destinations. I set out at a brisk pace and despite the heavy bag I covered a good amount of ground and was at the Banjara Camps archway at 12:30 P.M. I chose to stop here to eat a light lunch and rest a while before I set off on the road to Rakcham. During this time a bus to Chitkul via Rakcham showed up and I deliberately ignored the driver’s glances so as to not be tempted to take the bus.
After the pit stop I set off on the main road once more and immediately started feeling the pinch. The road was curving upward steeply and it was getting to be a struggle to walk with the heavy bag. I came to a marker on the road which said that Rakcham was 10 KM away. My mind was blank for only a second before I started walking in a determined fashion. Along the way I met a chap who was returning from a trip to Shimla. He told me that he was walking to Chitkul and this gave me some heart. If he could walk to Chitkul, I could surely make it to Rakcham. After a while the conversation fizzled out and also I couldn’t keep up with him; all he had to carry was a small plastic bag. So he trudged on forward while I followed in his wake eventually stopping to take pictures or to drink water.
Around the 7 KM to Rakcham mark, I started to feel the fatigue in a very intense manner and I was very critically reassessing my decision to walk. I had to take frequent breaks to slow down my heart rate and catch my breath. The sun was shining away in its resplendent glory and this didn’t make life any easier for me. I passed a bridge over a stream and I stopped there under the pretext of taking pictures when all I wanted to do really was to get my engine recharged a little bit. At the 5 KM to Rakcham mark, I started feeling really bogged down and my resolve was breaking. I seriously doubted if I’d make it to Rakcham in one piece and was tempted to flag down a jeep and pay the driver to take me to Rakcham. And then I remembered an incident from my childhood.
When I was 14 years old, a friend and I used to go swimming. There used to be a diving board 10 feet high over the pool and I never had the courage to try it. One day he finally talked me into it and I fearfully climbed the ladder and walked the plank, so to speak. At the edge, however, fear got the better of me and I told him I didn’t want to go through with it. He tried coaxing me into it and I tried telling him that my decision was final. At the end of it, he got frustrated and told me that he’d let me go down but if I gave in to the fear and walked away, I’d lose a bit of self-respect and that I’d never get it back regardless of however many times I made the dive later on in life. I jumped 5 seconds later.
Those words literally echoed in my ears and I grit my teeth and decided that I would see this walk through regardless of how long it would take me. I walked for what seemed like ages and then came up on a distance marker that said, “Rakcham – 1 KM”. I was elated and I made it into the village at 4:30 P.M, exhausted and hurting, but proud of myself. I stopped at the first hotel and asked if there were any rooms available. The owner was an extremely nice guy who told me that today was the first day they were opening up the hotel after the cold season and that they had no running water supply due to the pipes bursting as a result of the cold. He offered to put me up at the Silver Crown Guest house but when he called them he found out that they had the same problem too. He told me there was one other option, the Rupin Riverview but it would be an expensive affair. I told him that I couldn’t afford it and he thought for a minute and asked me if I would mind doing a homestay.
Homestays are a concept developed by the HPTDC to promote the culture and heritage of inner Himachal villages in Kinnaur and Lahaul and Spiti. You pay the owner of a house a fixed amount per night so that you live with them in a room and experience the culture first hand. Authentic meals are also part of the package and you get to have the complete experience of staying in a village. The owner’s uncle owned the homestay (registered with the HPTDC) and was sympathetic to my predicament. He cut down his usual price and said he’d let me stay there for a couple of nights. I was extremely gratified and I started walking with him to go to his house. He turned out to be a very knowledgeable person and I asked him all the questions that I could think of and got answers in a very patient and elaborate manner. We passed the Baspa River on the way and I couldn’t wait for the next day to go and visit it.
I eventually entered their home and it was a delightful wooden house with lovely decorations and set in a typical village environment. He said that since my arrival was abrupt, the room wasn’t ready and that I could rest in the main guest area. He then brought me up very tasty tea and also a local delicacy which, according to him, promoted good health and digestive regularity. It was a little bland and the texture was odd, but I found myself enjoying it and I finished it all up. After I finished eating, he left me alone and I rested.
Later in the evening I stepped out for while and walked to the entrace of the village and stood awhile gazing at the Baspa river. The weather was extremely chilly but also pleasant in a way. I watched the little village shut down slowly and walked back to the home. I was served dinner and I was glad to eat a home cooked meal after days of eating out. The meal comprised of Rotis, Spinach, and Aloo ki sabzi. It was simple and yet utterly delicious. I was then shown my room which really did look very quaint and homely. I'm going to enjoy my sleep tonight. Tomorrow I'll go out exploring. Until then, cheers!
As if to display some amount of variation, I woke up at 5:24 A.M today, cursed whatever was causing me to wake up at such ungodly hours, and immediately went back to sleep. I woke up later at 7:30 A.M and worked out for an hour. After that I went to the market square to stock up on rations that I needed for my walk to Rakcham. I drank some tea, ate a cream scone (Yes, I am a creature of habit, sue me), and also tried an omelet. My opinion was that he should just stick to making tea. I was still ravenous so I went to Anoopam bar and restaurant and ordered an egg parantha. It was absolutely delicious and I had him make two more to take on the walk with me. I bought a couple of liters of water, two small packets of chips, and a packet of biscuits. I also bought sunscreen with SPF 50+++ because I realized in the morning that I had suffered severe sun burn the previous day. The problem with cold weather is you don’t realize just how damaging the bright sun is to your skin. With all my supplies in hand I went back to clean out the room and vacate.
I came downstairs to turn in my key and was given a nice little bill to pay up. I was shocked to see that the guy had charged me Rs. 165 for ONE meal of Dal, Jeera Rice, and an Omelet that I had ordered the night before. I was very irritated by this and I spent 5 minutes vehemently expressing my displeasure at this act of greed. In the end I paid him Rs. 150 and stormed out; thank god I hadn’t ordered more. The name of the hotel is Paradise Guest House so if you stay there, be warned, don’t order anything to eat. You’re much better off at Anoopam’s which, though expensive, serves quality food. In a foul mood, I hoisted the 20 Kg+ backpack on and started walking out of Sangla at about 11 A.M.
I saw the Cafe 42 establishment once more and quickly took a picture before the dour faced man showed up again. The walk to Rakcham was 12 kilometers away according to the map and I gave myself three hours to reach it; including all photo-op, meal and water stops. Remembering the walk yesterday, I mentally made notes to stop and rest at pre-determined destinations. I set out at a brisk pace and despite the heavy bag I covered a good amount of ground and was at the Banjara Camps archway at 12:30 P.M. I chose to stop here to eat a light lunch and rest a while before I set off on the road to Rakcham. During this time a bus to Chitkul via Rakcham showed up and I deliberately ignored the driver’s glances so as to not be tempted to take the bus.
After the pit stop I set off on the main road once more and immediately started feeling the pinch. The road was curving upward steeply and it was getting to be a struggle to walk with the heavy bag. I came to a marker on the road which said that Rakcham was 10 KM away. My mind was blank for only a second before I started walking in a determined fashion. Along the way I met a chap who was returning from a trip to Shimla. He told me that he was walking to Chitkul and this gave me some heart. If he could walk to Chitkul, I could surely make it to Rakcham. After a while the conversation fizzled out and also I couldn’t keep up with him; all he had to carry was a small plastic bag. So he trudged on forward while I followed in his wake eventually stopping to take pictures or to drink water.
Around the 7 KM to Rakcham mark, I started to feel the fatigue in a very intense manner and I was very critically reassessing my decision to walk. I had to take frequent breaks to slow down my heart rate and catch my breath. The sun was shining away in its resplendent glory and this didn’t make life any easier for me. I passed a bridge over a stream and I stopped there under the pretext of taking pictures when all I wanted to do really was to get my engine recharged a little bit. At the 5 KM to Rakcham mark, I started feeling really bogged down and my resolve was breaking. I seriously doubted if I’d make it to Rakcham in one piece and was tempted to flag down a jeep and pay the driver to take me to Rakcham. And then I remembered an incident from my childhood.
When I was 14 years old, a friend and I used to go swimming. There used to be a diving board 10 feet high over the pool and I never had the courage to try it. One day he finally talked me into it and I fearfully climbed the ladder and walked the plank, so to speak. At the edge, however, fear got the better of me and I told him I didn’t want to go through with it. He tried coaxing me into it and I tried telling him that my decision was final. At the end of it, he got frustrated and told me that he’d let me go down but if I gave in to the fear and walked away, I’d lose a bit of self-respect and that I’d never get it back regardless of however many times I made the dive later on in life. I jumped 5 seconds later.
Those words literally echoed in my ears and I grit my teeth and decided that I would see this walk through regardless of how long it would take me. I walked for what seemed like ages and then came up on a distance marker that said, “Rakcham – 1 KM”. I was elated and I made it into the village at 4:30 P.M, exhausted and hurting, but proud of myself. I stopped at the first hotel and asked if there were any rooms available. The owner was an extremely nice guy who told me that today was the first day they were opening up the hotel after the cold season and that they had no running water supply due to the pipes bursting as a result of the cold. He offered to put me up at the Silver Crown Guest house but when he called them he found out that they had the same problem too. He told me there was one other option, the Rupin Riverview but it would be an expensive affair. I told him that I couldn’t afford it and he thought for a minute and asked me if I would mind doing a homestay.
Homestays are a concept developed by the HPTDC to promote the culture and heritage of inner Himachal villages in Kinnaur and Lahaul and Spiti. You pay the owner of a house a fixed amount per night so that you live with them in a room and experience the culture first hand. Authentic meals are also part of the package and you get to have the complete experience of staying in a village. The owner’s uncle owned the homestay (registered with the HPTDC) and was sympathetic to my predicament. He cut down his usual price and said he’d let me stay there for a couple of nights. I was extremely gratified and I started walking with him to go to his house. He turned out to be a very knowledgeable person and I asked him all the questions that I could think of and got answers in a very patient and elaborate manner. We passed the Baspa River on the way and I couldn’t wait for the next day to go and visit it.
I eventually entered their home and it was a delightful wooden house with lovely decorations and set in a typical village environment. He said that since my arrival was abrupt, the room wasn’t ready and that I could rest in the main guest area. He then brought me up very tasty tea and also a local delicacy which, according to him, promoted good health and digestive regularity. It was a little bland and the texture was odd, but I found myself enjoying it and I finished it all up. After I finished eating, he left me alone and I rested.
Later in the evening I stepped out for while and walked to the entrace of the village and stood awhile gazing at the Baspa river. The weather was extremely chilly but also pleasant in a way. I watched the little village shut down slowly and walked back to the home. I was served dinner and I was glad to eat a home cooked meal after days of eating out. The meal comprised of Rotis, Spinach, and Aloo ki sabzi. It was simple and yet utterly delicious. I was then shown my room which really did look very quaint and homely. I'm going to enjoy my sleep tonight. Tomorrow I'll go out exploring. Until then, cheers!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sangla: Day Two (09/05/11)
Sangla: Day Two (09/05/11)
For some reason I woke up quite early at 5:23 A.M today. I feared I had overslept and immediately checked my phone to see what the time was. Realizing what the time actually was, I decided to sleep some more before I was up and out. I finally woke up at about 7:45 and worked out for a little bit in my room. After the gruesome (for me) workout, I took a shower and stepped out to have some breakfast before I left on my trek. I had two paranthas, tea, and a cream scone and I was happy.
I bought water to take with me and left the hotel at 10:40 A.M in the direction of Rakcham. I walked past several guest houses and hotels on the outskirts of Sangla and came upon an establishment called Cafe 42. It was a queer thing really; an upscale coffee shop in the middle of nowhere. Even the foreigners who visit Kinnaur would have the sense not to pay the outrageous prices that they were charging. The prices were on par with what you’d find in Cafe Coffee Day, Barista, or Mocha. I wanted to take a picture but the guy sitting outside had a dour look about him so I let it be.
I continued my journey onwards all the while taking pictures of some old fashioned wooden houses (with Dish TV satellites outside) and some landscapes. Some distance later I saw the board pointing towards the Igloo Nature Camp site and I took some pictures of the accommodation that they were providing. From the outside it looked like an extra large tent with added amenities. The location wasn’t great and it just seemed to be in an awkward area.
I lost interest and I walked on. After a little bit of walking I came to the Gangarang naala and the bridge built upon it. There was a Shiv Mandir on the other side and I went in under the pretext of praying and I took a couple of pictures. After that it was just solid and steady walking for a long time admiring the landscapes and the cool breeze. The sun was shining with full intensity and I think I’ve been sun burned as a result of it. On the road I saw a woman piling flat rocks into potholes and she asked me why I was walking when I could have taken the bus. I told her that I wanted to enjoy the surroundings and she seemed appreciative of the sentiment. I asked her about the villages that would follow and she gave me some good information. I gave her a chocolate and started walking again.
I found a ledge to place my camera on and used the self timer to take a picture. It was the first picture of the trip that had me in it. I wish there was a better way to include myself in the pictures at the places where I want to be in the shots. I then came to a bridge and saw a Hanuman temple outside of it. There was also another temple with no clear indication of the deity worshipped within. I can only assume that it was another temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. Next on the road was the spot where Kinner Camp was located. The sign said that it featured ‘Swiss cottage tents with attached toilet/bath, bonfire, & a good bistro’. They must have taken out the bonfire option for obvious reasons. They looked like high quality make-shift medical tents in war-torn regions. I was itching to go down and have a look but I thought I might not be welcome and so I moved on. All this while I had been eyeing the river in the valley and was dying to find a way to get to it. I eyed some dodgy looking mountainsides and wanted to descend there, but decided against it keeping my non-existent climbing skills in mind.
Just when I almost gave up on the idea of getting down to the river side I found a road that would take me down into the valley. It was at the archway that led to the Banjara Camp Site. The sign said that the road was 2 KM long and I happily started walking down the road. After walking about 600 meters, I noticed that road was long and winding and unnecessary if you were on foot. You could cut through if you trekked through the mountain side. I decided to do just that and started descending on the half-existent trails. My trekking boots really came into play and they supported my endeavor tremendously and I was able to cut right through the trails and save a lot of time and distance. I got into the village of Batseri and started walking towards the river. I could hear the wonderful sound of the river flowing and could barely stop myself from running all the way towards it. I made my way through the grass and rocks and got to the edge of the river. A clear sight of the river was being barred by a large collection of rocks and I found that I needed to walk over to them.
From a distance this looked easy enough as the rocks appeared to be in a tight cluster. Upon closer inspection I found that the rocks were some distance apart and there was a decent current flowing between them and also plenty of acid green moss. After some inspection I found a way where there was minimal risk of me falling into the water. This way, however, was barred by two cows that did not seem to take well to my being there. I wasn’t about to take my chances with the mountain fit cows and I tried to wait it out to see if they would move. A staring contest then ensued and finally the cows moved away and I was free to hop over to the river. Making my way to the river was a little tricky and I had to exercise extreme caution and agility before I finally made it. I sat on the edge of a big rock and happily looked at the river for a while and took lots of pictures. Then I made my way back to the road and saw the bridge and the village beyond it. I was in two minds whether to get back onto the main road and continue my walk towards Rakcham or to go into that village. I finally decided on the latter and made my way into the village.
The sign at the beginning of the village informed me that this was Batseri and that it was a green village. I started walking in and came to an entrance decorated with Tibetan symbols and pictures. Right after the entrance on the left there was a beautiful temple. The temple premises were empty and there wasn’t a sign with any name on it. There was a boy nearby and I asked him if he knew what temple it was. He shook his head vigorously and took off like a bullet. I was unsure about whether to enter and if so, with or without shoes. Thankfully I saw a man coming out wearing slippers so I went in and marveled at the temple. The temple (as I later found out) is called Dev Mandir. I don’t really know any history of it but the way it was designed, I’m going to say that it is a testament to religious tolerance and true secularity. The temple doors featured deities from almost all religions found in India and the gateways were adorned with two dragons. It was simply beautiful. I spent quite some time taking pictures there.
After the Dev Mandir I stepped out to see a stone which said that there was a Bodhi Mandir ahead and I walked towards it. When I finally reached I found that it was in a dilapidated condition but it certainly looked it had had some good days. I checked the time at that point and saw that it was 1:40 and I decided to turn back because I knew that walking back would take longer. I traced my steps back and slowly and painfully marched towards Sangla. I heard a bus coming towards me but I chose not to flag it down because I wanted to complete the entire distance on foot. One of the highlights of the return trip was reaching a place near Sangla and seeing my boot print in the sand from more than 3 hours ago. I also met the woman again and told her of my travels and gave her another chocolate and continued.
The last few kilometers were positively excruciating because every part of my legs ached. I tried to distract myself by singing or talking to myself and giving myself mini-pep talks. I finally reached Sangla at about 4:40; a full six hours from when I had left. I barely managed to walk into a Tibetan Cafe and order some vegetable chowmein and momos. I came back to the hotel room at 5:30 and didn’t step outside afterwards. Sometime during the late evening I heard rain crashing down on the roof. I’m thankful that it didn’t happen during my walk back; that would have hugely complicated things. Now, it’s time to lay my weary body to rest and wake up tomorrow and proceed towards Rakcham and Chitkul. Cheers till tomorrow!
Lessons learnt:
1) When going out for an adventurous walk, take surplus water, dehydration is no fun and the general stores might just be closed as was the case with me today.
2) Talk to the locals from the villages about interesting places, they have an excellent idea of where all things lie and they’re only too happy to help you out. Give them something as a token of your appreciation!
3) Try to walk as much as possible. If you take a cab you’ll have the advantage of stopping wherever you want to, but I still think that walking is better. It’s a whole different experience and you’re guaranteed to love it.
For some reason I woke up quite early at 5:23 A.M today. I feared I had overslept and immediately checked my phone to see what the time was. Realizing what the time actually was, I decided to sleep some more before I was up and out. I finally woke up at about 7:45 and worked out for a little bit in my room. After the gruesome (for me) workout, I took a shower and stepped out to have some breakfast before I left on my trek. I had two paranthas, tea, and a cream scone and I was happy.
I bought water to take with me and left the hotel at 10:40 A.M in the direction of Rakcham. I walked past several guest houses and hotels on the outskirts of Sangla and came upon an establishment called Cafe 42. It was a queer thing really; an upscale coffee shop in the middle of nowhere. Even the foreigners who visit Kinnaur would have the sense not to pay the outrageous prices that they were charging. The prices were on par with what you’d find in Cafe Coffee Day, Barista, or Mocha. I wanted to take a picture but the guy sitting outside had a dour look about him so I let it be.
I continued my journey onwards all the while taking pictures of some old fashioned wooden houses (with Dish TV satellites outside) and some landscapes. Some distance later I saw the board pointing towards the Igloo Nature Camp site and I took some pictures of the accommodation that they were providing. From the outside it looked like an extra large tent with added amenities. The location wasn’t great and it just seemed to be in an awkward area.
I lost interest and I walked on. After a little bit of walking I came to the Gangarang naala and the bridge built upon it. There was a Shiv Mandir on the other side and I went in under the pretext of praying and I took a couple of pictures. After that it was just solid and steady walking for a long time admiring the landscapes and the cool breeze. The sun was shining with full intensity and I think I’ve been sun burned as a result of it. On the road I saw a woman piling flat rocks into potholes and she asked me why I was walking when I could have taken the bus. I told her that I wanted to enjoy the surroundings and she seemed appreciative of the sentiment. I asked her about the villages that would follow and she gave me some good information. I gave her a chocolate and started walking again.I found a ledge to place my camera on and used the self timer to take a picture. It was the first picture of the trip that had me in it. I wish there was a better way to include myself in the pictures at the places where I want to be in the shots. I then came to a bridge and saw a Hanuman temple outside of it. There was also another temple with no clear indication of the deity worshipped within. I can only assume that it was another temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. Next on the road was the spot where Kinner Camp was located. The sign said that it featured ‘Swiss cottage tents with attached toilet/bath, bonfire, & a good bistro’. They must have taken out the bonfire option for obvious reasons. They looked like high quality make-shift medical tents in war-torn regions. I was itching to go down and have a look but I thought I might not be welcome and so I moved on. All this while I had been eyeing the river in the valley and was dying to find a way to get to it. I eyed some dodgy looking mountainsides and wanted to descend there, but decided against it keeping my non-existent climbing skills in mind.
Just when I almost gave up on the idea of getting down to the river side I found a road that would take me down into the valley. It was at the archway that led to the Banjara Camp Site. The sign said that the road was 2 KM long and I happily started walking down the road. After walking about 600 meters, I noticed that road was long and winding and unnecessary if you were on foot. You could cut through if you trekked through the mountain side. I decided to do just that and started descending on the half-existent trails. My trekking boots really came into play and they supported my endeavor tremendously and I was able to cut right through the trails and save a lot of time and distance. I got into the village of Batseri and started walking towards the river. I could hear the wonderful sound of the river flowing and could barely stop myself from running all the way towards it. I made my way through the grass and rocks and got to the edge of the river. A clear sight of the river was being barred by a large collection of rocks and I found that I needed to walk over to them.
From a distance this looked easy enough as the rocks appeared to be in a tight cluster. Upon closer inspection I found that the rocks were some distance apart and there was a decent current flowing between them and also plenty of acid green moss. After some inspection I found a way where there was minimal risk of me falling into the water. This way, however, was barred by two cows that did not seem to take well to my being there. I wasn’t about to take my chances with the mountain fit cows and I tried to wait it out to see if they would move. A staring contest then ensued and finally the cows moved away and I was free to hop over to the river. Making my way to the river was a little tricky and I had to exercise extreme caution and agility before I finally made it. I sat on the edge of a big rock and happily looked at the river for a while and took lots of pictures. Then I made my way back to the road and saw the bridge and the village beyond it. I was in two minds whether to get back onto the main road and continue my walk towards Rakcham or to go into that village. I finally decided on the latter and made my way into the village.
The sign at the beginning of the village informed me that this was Batseri and that it was a green village. I started walking in and came to an entrance decorated with Tibetan symbols and pictures. Right after the entrance on the left there was a beautiful temple. The temple premises were empty and there wasn’t a sign with any name on it. There was a boy nearby and I asked him if he knew what temple it was. He shook his head vigorously and took off like a bullet. I was unsure about whether to enter and if so, with or without shoes. Thankfully I saw a man coming out wearing slippers so I went in and marveled at the temple. The temple (as I later found out) is called Dev Mandir. I don’t really know any history of it but the way it was designed, I’m going to say that it is a testament to religious tolerance and true secularity. The temple doors featured deities from almost all religions found in India and the gateways were adorned with two dragons. It was simply beautiful. I spent quite some time taking pictures there.
After the Dev Mandir I stepped out to see a stone which said that there was a Bodhi Mandir ahead and I walked towards it. When I finally reached I found that it was in a dilapidated condition but it certainly looked it had had some good days. I checked the time at that point and saw that it was 1:40 and I decided to turn back because I knew that walking back would take longer. I traced my steps back and slowly and painfully marched towards Sangla. I heard a bus coming towards me but I chose not to flag it down because I wanted to complete the entire distance on foot. One of the highlights of the return trip was reaching a place near Sangla and seeing my boot print in the sand from more than 3 hours ago. I also met the woman again and told her of my travels and gave her another chocolate and continued.
The last few kilometers were positively excruciating because every part of my legs ached. I tried to distract myself by singing or talking to myself and giving myself mini-pep talks. I finally reached Sangla at about 4:40; a full six hours from when I had left. I barely managed to walk into a Tibetan Cafe and order some vegetable chowmein and momos. I came back to the hotel room at 5:30 and didn’t step outside afterwards. Sometime during the late evening I heard rain crashing down on the roof. I’m thankful that it didn’t happen during my walk back; that would have hugely complicated things. Now, it’s time to lay my weary body to rest and wake up tomorrow and proceed towards Rakcham and Chitkul. Cheers till tomorrow!
Lessons learnt:
1) When going out for an adventurous walk, take surplus water, dehydration is no fun and the general stores might just be closed as was the case with me today.
2) Talk to the locals from the villages about interesting places, they have an excellent idea of where all things lie and they’re only too happy to help you out. Give them something as a token of your appreciation!
3) Try to walk as much as possible. If you take a cab you’ll have the advantage of stopping wherever you want to, but I still think that walking is better. It’s a whole different experience and you’re guaranteed to love it.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Reckong-Peo to Sangla (08/05/11)
Reckong-Peo to Sangla (08/05/11)
Today I woke up at 7:45 A.M and decided to go get some breakfast and walk around. After walking through the town for half an hour I went to a ‘dhaba’ and ate paranthas with dahi and chane. I also drank some tea and then trudged back to the hotel and started packing up. My plan was to leave as soon as possible from the hotel room and explore further before leaving for the bus stand. But sloth got the better of me and I decided to enjoy the comforts of my room for a while longer before I left. I stretched out the packing as long as I could and finally left the hotel at 11:29 A.M. The day before, I had intentionally walked a few kilometers down from the bus station to the market square to book a hotel room because this would force me to walk all the way back up again.
I turned in my keys and talked to the manager of the hotel for a while before leaving and then was on my way to the bus stand. I slowly walked up the hill and the high altitude and the heavy bag were taking their toll on my unfit self. I walked in measured steps and kept my breathing stable and soon it wasn’t that bad. I stopped a few times to take pictures of the landscapes and of the town but really there wasn’t anything very interesting in Reckong-Peo.
I reached the bus stop at 12:26 and found a lot of empty buses and no drivers or conductors in sight. Since the schedule said that the bus to Sangla was leaving at 1 P.M, I just hung back and waited for someone to manifest. Eventually a conductor showed up and pointed me to the place where the bus to Sangla would be leaving from. I went and stood outside the empty bus just to be the first in line so I could get the seat of my choice. At about 12:50 the driver opened up the bus and I rushed inside and settled into a window seat. As I stated before, the HRTC people are very punctual and the bus started off promptly at 1:00 P.M. The bus was relatively empty since most of the people boarding the bus got on at the market square. I was glad once again for having walked up to the bus station because if I had waited in the market square I’m pretty sure I’d have gotten a bad seat or would have had to go part of the journey standing. After picking up the crowd at the market square the bus rolled out of Reckong-Peo and began its journey towards Sangla.
The initial part of the journey was mostly déjà-vu since we were going back on the same route. After crossing the Shongtong Bridge, however, we got onto the road headed for Sangla. This time the roads weren’t as good and were full of rubble and dust. The views were still spectacular with natural waterfalls, valleys and the river in full flow, but all the work being done on the side put out a lot of dust and clouded the landscape.
We passed Poari and a little while after I could witness the beginnings of the huge power plant at Karcham. It started with a massive stone structure that looked like it was a super villain’s fortress. I kept watching and as we moved on further I could see the huge imprint that the power plant left on the village. It looked more like an industrial area than anything and that is the result of a 300 MW power plant sitting smack in the middle of nature I guess. I don’t know the benefit VS cost ratio of the power plant so I’ll keep my opinions to myself. From Karcham the roads were good once again as a result of JP Associates’ supposed benevolence. It was a short ride thereafter and a little while later I got off at Sangla.
The first impression of the town wasn’t that great, but the views of the Sangla valley more than make up for the dullness of the town. The bus ride had taken 2 and a half hours and I was famished. I decided to seek out a place to stay and found one with a decent room for 200 bucks a night. I paid for two nights, moved in, and then went out to the market to get myself something to eat. It was a Sunday and also 4:15 P.M so there weren’t many establishments serving lunch save for the hotels that had restaurants built into them.
I visited one of them and ate a mediocre meal that cost way too much and came back to the hotel. I went to the internet cafe next to upload a journal entry and also to figure out how to connect my GPRS mobile to my PC so that I could get online. After an hour of trial and error I finally figured it out and came back elated. It was already 6:25 P.M though and I was fast losing light so I decided to go for a long walk. I walked in the direction of Rakcham for about half an hour and then turned back. I got a firsthand view of the outer village and also some traditional wood housing as well. Somewhere in the middle of all of this I spotted a poster of Sangla that boasted of virgin environs. I remembered the diesel vehicles, the thick power lines, the construction sites, the noise and the dust and thought that apparently being raped only a little still allowed you to call yourself virgin.
I found my way back to Sangla at about 8:15 P.M and talked to a few friends back home. When I finished the time was 8:45 and I tried to seek out dinner but all of the regular establishments had already shut down shop. Apparently shops close down very early in Sangla and I had no choice but to return to that restaurant and eat another overpriced meal. There was also a bar present at this restaurant and I had to literally force myself to look away to avoid the temptation of wanting a peg of whiskey. There were two Russian guys at the restaurant who took some time in communicating what they wanted for dinner. I amused myself watching them try to communicate to the local that they wanted the food to be less spicy. I finished eating and then headed out to a small stall to have some tea. I love pahaadi tea and always try and have as much as I can. While I was drinking my tea a dog came up to me and looked at me inquiringly. I bought a couple of biscuits and fed them to him. After I was done he escorted me back to the hotel and I wrote the journal entry and read some Kafka. Tomorrow I wake up early and explore all there is to explore in Sangla and if there’s a chance, I’ll try and reach Sangla Kanda. Until then, cheers!
Lessons Learnt:
1) Always take the bus from the origin point i.e. the bus stop. This will ensure that you get a seat of your choice. If you wait at another place to board you might not get a seat let alone a seat of your choice.
2) Establishments in Sangla close as early as 8:45, so plan your dinner accordingly.
3) Feed a stray dog. It feels good and he’ll be your best friend for the duration of time you’re there.
Today I woke up at 7:45 A.M and decided to go get some breakfast and walk around. After walking through the town for half an hour I went to a ‘dhaba’ and ate paranthas with dahi and chane. I also drank some tea and then trudged back to the hotel and started packing up. My plan was to leave as soon as possible from the hotel room and explore further before leaving for the bus stand. But sloth got the better of me and I decided to enjoy the comforts of my room for a while longer before I left. I stretched out the packing as long as I could and finally left the hotel at 11:29 A.M. The day before, I had intentionally walked a few kilometers down from the bus station to the market square to book a hotel room because this would force me to walk all the way back up again.
I turned in my keys and talked to the manager of the hotel for a while before leaving and then was on my way to the bus stand. I slowly walked up the hill and the high altitude and the heavy bag were taking their toll on my unfit self. I walked in measured steps and kept my breathing stable and soon it wasn’t that bad. I stopped a few times to take pictures of the landscapes and of the town but really there wasn’t anything very interesting in Reckong-Peo.
I reached the bus stop at 12:26 and found a lot of empty buses and no drivers or conductors in sight. Since the schedule said that the bus to Sangla was leaving at 1 P.M, I just hung back and waited for someone to manifest. Eventually a conductor showed up and pointed me to the place where the bus to Sangla would be leaving from. I went and stood outside the empty bus just to be the first in line so I could get the seat of my choice. At about 12:50 the driver opened up the bus and I rushed inside and settled into a window seat. As I stated before, the HRTC people are very punctual and the bus started off promptly at 1:00 P.M. The bus was relatively empty since most of the people boarding the bus got on at the market square. I was glad once again for having walked up to the bus station because if I had waited in the market square I’m pretty sure I’d have gotten a bad seat or would have had to go part of the journey standing. After picking up the crowd at the market square the bus rolled out of Reckong-Peo and began its journey towards Sangla.
The initial part of the journey was mostly déjà-vu since we were going back on the same route. After crossing the Shongtong Bridge, however, we got onto the road headed for Sangla. This time the roads weren’t as good and were full of rubble and dust. The views were still spectacular with natural waterfalls, valleys and the river in full flow, but all the work being done on the side put out a lot of dust and clouded the landscape.
We passed Poari and a little while after I could witness the beginnings of the huge power plant at Karcham. It started with a massive stone structure that looked like it was a super villain’s fortress. I kept watching and as we moved on further I could see the huge imprint that the power plant left on the village. It looked more like an industrial area than anything and that is the result of a 300 MW power plant sitting smack in the middle of nature I guess. I don’t know the benefit VS cost ratio of the power plant so I’ll keep my opinions to myself. From Karcham the roads were good once again as a result of JP Associates’ supposed benevolence. It was a short ride thereafter and a little while later I got off at Sangla.
The first impression of the town wasn’t that great, but the views of the Sangla valley more than make up for the dullness of the town. The bus ride had taken 2 and a half hours and I was famished. I decided to seek out a place to stay and found one with a decent room for 200 bucks a night. I paid for two nights, moved in, and then went out to the market to get myself something to eat. It was a Sunday and also 4:15 P.M so there weren’t many establishments serving lunch save for the hotels that had restaurants built into them.
I visited one of them and ate a mediocre meal that cost way too much and came back to the hotel. I went to the internet cafe next to upload a journal entry and also to figure out how to connect my GPRS mobile to my PC so that I could get online. After an hour of trial and error I finally figured it out and came back elated. It was already 6:25 P.M though and I was fast losing light so I decided to go for a long walk. I walked in the direction of Rakcham for about half an hour and then turned back. I got a firsthand view of the outer village and also some traditional wood housing as well. Somewhere in the middle of all of this I spotted a poster of Sangla that boasted of virgin environs. I remembered the diesel vehicles, the thick power lines, the construction sites, the noise and the dust and thought that apparently being raped only a little still allowed you to call yourself virgin.
I found my way back to Sangla at about 8:15 P.M and talked to a few friends back home. When I finished the time was 8:45 and I tried to seek out dinner but all of the regular establishments had already shut down shop. Apparently shops close down very early in Sangla and I had no choice but to return to that restaurant and eat another overpriced meal. There was also a bar present at this restaurant and I had to literally force myself to look away to avoid the temptation of wanting a peg of whiskey. There were two Russian guys at the restaurant who took some time in communicating what they wanted for dinner. I amused myself watching them try to communicate to the local that they wanted the food to be less spicy. I finished eating and then headed out to a small stall to have some tea. I love pahaadi tea and always try and have as much as I can. While I was drinking my tea a dog came up to me and looked at me inquiringly. I bought a couple of biscuits and fed them to him. After I was done he escorted me back to the hotel and I wrote the journal entry and read some Kafka. Tomorrow I wake up early and explore all there is to explore in Sangla and if there’s a chance, I’ll try and reach Sangla Kanda. Until then, cheers!
Lessons Learnt:
1) Always take the bus from the origin point i.e. the bus stop. This will ensure that you get a seat of your choice. If you wait at another place to board you might not get a seat let alone a seat of your choice.
2) Establishments in Sangla close as early as 8:45, so plan your dinner accordingly.
3) Feed a stray dog. It feels good and he’ll be your best friend for the duration of time you’re there.
Delhi to Reckong-Peo
Delhi to Reckong-Peo (06/05/11 – 07/05/11)
I left my friend's house on the evening of the 6th to leave for Kashmere Gate. I had already booked a ticket on the Delhi - Reckong-Peo bus the day before and it was scheduled to leave at 8:10 P.M I initially tried to board the metro to go to Kashmere Gate but the metros were filled to the brim with a rabid crowd. I decided that I couldn't risk the safety of my electronics and would take an auto. The auto cost a 100 bucks from Mayur Vihar phase I; small price to pay to ensure the safety of my laptop. I left at 7:10 P.M very worried that I might not make in time to catch the bus. Both luck and traffic were on my side and I reached Kashmere Gate at 7:35. After I reached, a small amount of time was spent finding an ATM and then I was ready to go. I went to the boarding point to see the DLI-RPEO HRTC bus standing there, already being boarded. It looked as ordinary as they come and I clambered in with a little amount of trepidation. The bus was almost full to the brim and the only 'girls' were at least 50 years old... I sighed heavily and headed towards my seat and discovered it wasn't by the window. I stuffed my bag between my legs and sat down looking fixedly at the window trying to avoid everyone's eye. Eventually, the guy with the prized window seat showed up and he was as devoid of expression and emotion as I was trying to be. The bus started off and so did my hell.
I understand HRTC has to cut corners somewhere when they hand out 'ordinary' class tickets but I don't understand why they've designed buses for smurfs. I couldn't lean back in the seat without my knees pushing up dangerously against the back of the seat in front of me. To move slightly, I had to perform an acrobatic manoeuvre that inevitably disturbed the passengers around me. There was no way an average sized human being could sleep in that bus. The night was a sleepless struggle for me and I spent the night squirming and looking on as we passed through Ambala Cantt, Chandigarh, and Panchkula.
After suffering all manners of torture and fatigue we somehow finally reached Shimla at 5:24 in the morning. There was a mad rush to get off and I realized that most of the traffic consisted of cheapskates who just wanted to take a cheap bus to Shimla. There was a half hour break before the bus departed again for Reckong-Peo. I took that time to go walk around a little bit and found out that my decision not to stop over in Shimla was a good one. It’s stupid to assume that there wasn’t anything interesting in store after such a cursory search but just by the outside look of it, I felt that I wouldn’t have had a great deal to do there except eat and get fatter.
Soon afterwards the departure was announced and the bus started rolling on again. Up and until Shimla the bus at least followed the reservation system. After Shimla though, all bets were off and it just became an ordinary local passenger bus. People got on and off at every single place they bothered to stick a hand out at. The traffic fluctuated slightly but remained constant more or less until after we departed from Narkanda.
From Narkanda to Rampur there was a heavy influx of people who were traveling short distances and kept the bus completely filled. All this while, I was suffering from severe physical fatigue as a result of not having slept the entire night before and I was drifting in and out of consciousness. One moment, I was intently listening to a song on the IPod and the next moment my head was bouncing off of the rod in front of me as I woke up startled realizing that I had fallen under. This happened a great many times, right up until the point we reached Reckong-Peo and everyone was very amused. The bus trip was very uncomfortable until Rampur and I was regretting my decision not to disembark in Shimla, spend the night, and take a bus to Sarahan.
After Rampur, however, the landscape slowly began to change as the valley came into sight in its complete splendor. This was slightly marred by the Hydro-Electric power project work being undertaken, but even that blemish couldn’t take anything away from the magnificence of the mountains. I was spell bound the entire way and I had my head out of the window all the time. The trip was also sheer terror because at many a place the road blocks at the edge had fallen off and all you could see was the edge and the river a few hundred feet downwards. This horror was compounded by the fact that the bus driver was a bipolar disordered person who alternated between sanguine calm and manic frenzy while driving the bus through the valley. There was one instance that almost brought me to my knees in prayer. 
It happened when we were approaching a particularly sharp turn and the driver decided to showcase his own interpretation of a scene from ‘Tokyo Drift’ and he took the turn at about 35 kmph. The wheel screeched and threw some rocks over the edge but it gripped the road just in time and we were all safe. All in all the driver was a confident guy who knew what he was doing but his erratic swings had my heart in my mouth when I wasn’t banging my head off the seat rods.
I have to spend some time raving about the scenery in sight as you drive to Reckong-Peo. There is a single road carved out of the mountain and you are surrounded by the great mountains as you drive on by. Maybe I’m one of the few people who finds that utterly captivating but I had my head out of the window the entire two and half hours taking in the beauty and feeling the chilly wind on my face. Mother Nature seemed to have her climate control setting on and the temperature was absolutely perfect. It wasn’t too cold or too warm.
There was plenty of bright sunshine and experiencing the sun without the heat was a treat for a hyderabadi guy like me. The mountain sides are dotted with houses here and there and you can’t help but wonder, who got the idea to build a house there and how he had even managed to finish up. The houses, roads, and the basic infrastructure is nothing if not a testament to man’s perseverance and will to endure in any sort of conditions. The roads leading up to Reckong-Peo were absolutely perfect except for places where landslides occurred often. About 80-85% of the roads were clear of potholes, bumps or any hiccups and that is a huge thing. My only regret is that I was in a bus and couldn’t get out where I pleased. The next time I travel to Kinnaur, it’ll be in a cab and I’ll be stopping at a lot of places.
We finally arrived in Reckong-Peo at 4:24 which was 6 minutes ahead of scheduled time. In this particular regard, I’m very impressed with HRTC for sticking diligently to the time tables that they’ve put out. I got out at the bus station, perused the time tables and toyed with the idea of catching a bus to Sangla or Kalpa today itself. I soon slapped the idea out of my mind because had I stepped into the bus again today I would have turned homicidal. I went and bought a battery for my phone and then took up ‘luxury’ accommodation for a princely 350 bucks and scrubbed the pain and fatigue of the last 21 hours out of my mind. My dinner was excellent vegetarian thupka, momos, a cup of tea and a wonderfully fresh cream scone. Having satiated my hunger, I settled down to do the grunt work i.e. transferring the photos from my camera, writing these entries, replying to my facebook notifications et al. Now I’ll finish recharging all my electronic devices and prepare myself to wake up tomorrow bright and early to go to Kalpa or Sangla. I haven’t decided anything except for that I’ll decide by way of a coin toss at the bus station tomorrow. Cheers until tomorrow!
Lessons Learnt:
1) Take the DLI-RPEO bus at your own risk. If you have knee or back issues you are sure to be destroyed during the course of the trip. After having suffered through the ordeal myself, I would highly recommend a stopover in Shimla just to insure your health.
2) Regardless of whichever bus you take to Kinnaur, try and get a window seat on the left side of the bus. You’ll get the best views
3) Keep an extra bottle of water and a snickers bar (or some meal replacement bar) handy if possible. You never know what you’re going to get to eat and when, so having one handy is greatly helpful.
4) There are three internet cafes in Reckong-Peo but the lines are unstable so having a GPRS equipped mobile or a USB internet stick is a must if you want to keep in touch. Also bring an extra batter y for your mobile. It will be of great assistance.
5) Always walk around town before deciding on a place to stay or a place to eat. There are some real gems hidden away in alleyways that you wouldn’t find unless you looked hard enough.
6) Reckong-Peo is the last place where you’ll find an ATM if you’re heading deeper into Kinnaur or into Spiti. So make sure you get your finances taken care of before you leave town. There is a State Bank ATM, a Himachal Pradesh Co-Op ATM (I don’t think outside cards work here), and a UCO bank ATM in the market square.
I left my friend's house on the evening of the 6th to leave for Kashmere Gate. I had already booked a ticket on the Delhi - Reckong-Peo bus the day before and it was scheduled to leave at 8:10 P.M I initially tried to board the metro to go to Kashmere Gate but the metros were filled to the brim with a rabid crowd. I decided that I couldn't risk the safety of my electronics and would take an auto. The auto cost a 100 bucks from Mayur Vihar phase I; small price to pay to ensure the safety of my laptop. I left at 7:10 P.M very worried that I might not make in time to catch the bus. Both luck and traffic were on my side and I reached Kashmere Gate at 7:35. After I reached, a small amount of time was spent finding an ATM and then I was ready to go. I went to the boarding point to see the DLI-RPEO HRTC bus standing there, already being boarded. It looked as ordinary as they come and I clambered in with a little amount of trepidation. The bus was almost full to the brim and the only 'girls' were at least 50 years old... I sighed heavily and headed towards my seat and discovered it wasn't by the window. I stuffed my bag between my legs and sat down looking fixedly at the window trying to avoid everyone's eye. Eventually, the guy with the prized window seat showed up and he was as devoid of expression and emotion as I was trying to be. The bus started off and so did my hell.
I understand HRTC has to cut corners somewhere when they hand out 'ordinary' class tickets but I don't understand why they've designed buses for smurfs. I couldn't lean back in the seat without my knees pushing up dangerously against the back of the seat in front of me. To move slightly, I had to perform an acrobatic manoeuvre that inevitably disturbed the passengers around me. There was no way an average sized human being could sleep in that bus. The night was a sleepless struggle for me and I spent the night squirming and looking on as we passed through Ambala Cantt, Chandigarh, and Panchkula.
After suffering all manners of torture and fatigue we somehow finally reached Shimla at 5:24 in the morning. There was a mad rush to get off and I realized that most of the traffic consisted of cheapskates who just wanted to take a cheap bus to Shimla. There was a half hour break before the bus departed again for Reckong-Peo. I took that time to go walk around a little bit and found out that my decision not to stop over in Shimla was a good one. It’s stupid to assume that there wasn’t anything interesting in store after such a cursory search but just by the outside look of it, I felt that I wouldn’t have had a great deal to do there except eat and get fatter.
Soon afterwards the departure was announced and the bus started rolling on again. Up and until Shimla the bus at least followed the reservation system. After Shimla though, all bets were off and it just became an ordinary local passenger bus. People got on and off at every single place they bothered to stick a hand out at. The traffic fluctuated slightly but remained constant more or less until after we departed from Narkanda.
From Narkanda to Rampur there was a heavy influx of people who were traveling short distances and kept the bus completely filled. All this while, I was suffering from severe physical fatigue as a result of not having slept the entire night before and I was drifting in and out of consciousness. One moment, I was intently listening to a song on the IPod and the next moment my head was bouncing off of the rod in front of me as I woke up startled realizing that I had fallen under. This happened a great many times, right up until the point we reached Reckong-Peo and everyone was very amused. The bus trip was very uncomfortable until Rampur and I was regretting my decision not to disembark in Shimla, spend the night, and take a bus to Sarahan.
After Rampur, however, the landscape slowly began to change as the valley came into sight in its complete splendor. This was slightly marred by the Hydro-Electric power project work being undertaken, but even that blemish couldn’t take anything away from the magnificence of the mountains. I was spell bound the entire way and I had my head out of the window all the time. The trip was also sheer terror because at many a place the road blocks at the edge had fallen off and all you could see was the edge and the river a few hundred feet downwards. This horror was compounded by the fact that the bus driver was a bipolar disordered person who alternated between sanguine calm and manic frenzy while driving the bus through the valley. There was one instance that almost brought me to my knees in prayer. 
It happened when we were approaching a particularly sharp turn and the driver decided to showcase his own interpretation of a scene from ‘Tokyo Drift’ and he took the turn at about 35 kmph. The wheel screeched and threw some rocks over the edge but it gripped the road just in time and we were all safe. All in all the driver was a confident guy who knew what he was doing but his erratic swings had my heart in my mouth when I wasn’t banging my head off the seat rods.I have to spend some time raving about the scenery in sight as you drive to Reckong-Peo. There is a single road carved out of the mountain and you are surrounded by the great mountains as you drive on by. Maybe I’m one of the few people who finds that utterly captivating but I had my head out of the window the entire two and half hours taking in the beauty and feeling the chilly wind on my face. Mother Nature seemed to have her climate control setting on and the temperature was absolutely perfect. It wasn’t too cold or too warm.
There was plenty of bright sunshine and experiencing the sun without the heat was a treat for a hyderabadi guy like me. The mountain sides are dotted with houses here and there and you can’t help but wonder, who got the idea to build a house there and how he had even managed to finish up. The houses, roads, and the basic infrastructure is nothing if not a testament to man’s perseverance and will to endure in any sort of conditions. The roads leading up to Reckong-Peo were absolutely perfect except for places where landslides occurred often. About 80-85% of the roads were clear of potholes, bumps or any hiccups and that is a huge thing. My only regret is that I was in a bus and couldn’t get out where I pleased. The next time I travel to Kinnaur, it’ll be in a cab and I’ll be stopping at a lot of places.
We finally arrived in Reckong-Peo at 4:24 which was 6 minutes ahead of scheduled time. In this particular regard, I’m very impressed with HRTC for sticking diligently to the time tables that they’ve put out. I got out at the bus station, perused the time tables and toyed with the idea of catching a bus to Sangla or Kalpa today itself. I soon slapped the idea out of my mind because had I stepped into the bus again today I would have turned homicidal. I went and bought a battery for my phone and then took up ‘luxury’ accommodation for a princely 350 bucks and scrubbed the pain and fatigue of the last 21 hours out of my mind. My dinner was excellent vegetarian thupka, momos, a cup of tea and a wonderfully fresh cream scone. Having satiated my hunger, I settled down to do the grunt work i.e. transferring the photos from my camera, writing these entries, replying to my facebook notifications et al. Now I’ll finish recharging all my electronic devices and prepare myself to wake up tomorrow bright and early to go to Kalpa or Sangla. I haven’t decided anything except for that I’ll decide by way of a coin toss at the bus station tomorrow. Cheers until tomorrow!
Lessons Learnt:
1) Take the DLI-RPEO bus at your own risk. If you have knee or back issues you are sure to be destroyed during the course of the trip. After having suffered through the ordeal myself, I would highly recommend a stopover in Shimla just to insure your health.
2) Regardless of whichever bus you take to Kinnaur, try and get a window seat on the left side of the bus. You’ll get the best views
3) Keep an extra bottle of water and a snickers bar (or some meal replacement bar) handy if possible. You never know what you’re going to get to eat and when, so having one handy is greatly helpful.
4) There are three internet cafes in Reckong-Peo but the lines are unstable so having a GPRS equipped mobile or a USB internet stick is a must if you want to keep in touch. Also bring an extra batter y for your mobile. It will be of great assistance.
5) Always walk around town before deciding on a place to stay or a place to eat. There are some real gems hidden away in alleyways that you wouldn’t find unless you looked hard enough.
6) Reckong-Peo is the last place where you’ll find an ATM if you’re heading deeper into Kinnaur or into Spiti. So make sure you get your finances taken care of before you leave town. There is a State Bank ATM, a Himachal Pradesh Co-Op ATM (I don’t think outside cards work here), and a UCO bank ATM in the market square.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)