Travel Journals XX: Top of the World
For those of you who have asked: I have changed my flight so that i will now be flying out of Delhi on May 4th at one am. this should have me in JFK at about 6 in the morning on the 5th. I look forward to seeing you all shortly thereafter.
The first journey here was hellish. It involved the following elements: Very bad advice, a missed train station, three local buses, two auto rickshaws, being awake at two in the morning, and waiting several hours on the wrong side of the Kashmiri border. the whole thing could have been avoided had we simply listened to the six year old. Why he was the only one who knew what train station we were at remains a mystery, but if we had only paid attention to him rather than his adult counterparts it would have saved a lot of inconvenience. So it came to pass that my first view of the Himalayas was early in the morning from the seat of a local bus (possibly designed and built in wartime Germany) it occurred to me as i watched the white capped peaks rise to improbable heights that this was the first snow I've seen since i left America.
Bhagsu is a small alpine resort village located halfway up a mountain that by ordinary standards would be considered really large. Here it is merely a foothill. Down the slope is the slightly more urbane Mcleod Ganj which is the home of the Tibetan government in exile and the official residence of His Holiness, The Dali Lama. Red clad monks wander the streets smiling benignly and looking slightly incongruous with their modern sneakers and backpacks. further down in the valley is Dharamsala which aside from the incline of the ground, climate and unusually large Tibetan population, could be replaced by any modest sized Indian city. The palms, banyans and sandalwood trees of the lowlands have been replaced with hardy trees with gnarled trunks and stately evergreens. Half of Bhagsu is unreachable by wheeled transport as the streets turn into wide stone and concrete staircases. In the time i have been here it has already rained more than it has the entire rest of my stay in India. For the first time I am truly grateful that i have packed a sweater in my luggage.
How exactly does one find them self a kilometer above the snow line in woefully inadequate shoes? To understand this, you need to understand the seductive quality of mountain trails. I awoke early one morning to find that it was one of those rare clear days for this time of year. I flicked the hot water heater on and decided to go for a short walk uphill so by the time i returned the shower would be ready. I strolled up the mountain until the houses became less frequent and finally petered out entirely. There was a small temple near one of the smaller peaks i decided to investigate that, and having come this far already, why not see what the view was from that peak? the path skirted around that peak, but seemed to lead up to another. how could i not follow it? after all the trail was clearly well used and clear. i found myself meandering along the side of the ridge through a landscape that cried out to be filmed by Peter Jackson. enormous boulders jutted out from the mountain side and tree trunks curled from ledges in sheer defiance of gravity. massive rhododendrons with trunks thicker than five people standing together littered the winding road with fiercely magenta blossoms. the trees were alive with birds of every description from large skulking blue magpie to tiny cheeky warblers. Croaking ravens tumbled through the sky, more than any other species of bird, seeming to enjoy the act of flying. as the path wound upwards, i saw an eagle climbing the thermals at eye level and as i walked further above the clouds i spotted a Himalayan Griffon, A species of vulture so impossibly large that you couldn't help but wonder how they stay aloft. The Himalayan Griffon inevitably reminds one of it's Mythological namesake.
At what would turn out to be the midpoint of my walk I stopped for breakfast at a Chai shop that simply had no business being there. all my questions about how he got supplies and how many customers he had per week were short circuited by the astonishing view over the valley and the fact that i was quite possibly eating the best omelet that I've ever had. A sign outside the chai shop announced that i was halfway between Dharamsala and Triund. where was Triund? well i hadn't walked this far not to find out. I left the small cafe with thanks to the owner who continued to hum tunelessly to himself, as he had the entire time i was there. As i marched on the road became steeper, more winding and even more picturesque. My solitude was occasionally interrupted by fellow trekkers on their way back downhill. we exchanged pleasantries and information about the path ahead and continued on our respective ways. i passed one or two more chai shops and gradually came to a dusting of snow which soon became a decent coating. cursing my poor shoe choice, i soldiered on on the grounds that my feet were already wet anyway. i waded through the snow up a quickly narrowing more slippery trail finally i came within sight of the peak a man peered down and waved assuring me it was only five more minutes to the top. this man turned out to be the owner of (you guessed it) a chai shop. I evidently left the part of me that would have been offended by this blatantly commercial intrusion into the wilderness back in lower ground and happily paid the last five rupees in my wallet for a warm glass. I was informed that we were 2900 meters above sea level. Looking out over the valley i couldn't tell where the land ended and the clouds began. i turned to face the other direction and found myself viewing still taller cloud veiled peaks. i drained the last of my sweet tea and decided that this was the perfect time to resist temptation and go back the way i came
The first journey here was hellish. It involved the following elements: Very bad advice, a missed train station, three local buses, two auto rickshaws, being awake at two in the morning, and waiting several hours on the wrong side of the Kashmiri border. the whole thing could have been avoided had we simply listened to the six year old. Why he was the only one who knew what train station we were at remains a mystery, but if we had only paid attention to him rather than his adult counterparts it would have saved a lot of inconvenience. So it came to pass that my first view of the Himalayas was early in the morning from the seat of a local bus (possibly designed and built in wartime Germany) it occurred to me as i watched the white capped peaks rise to improbable heights that this was the first snow I've seen since i left America.
Bhagsu is a small alpine resort village located halfway up a mountain that by ordinary standards would be considered really large. Here it is merely a foothill. Down the slope is the slightly more urbane Mcleod Ganj which is the home of the Tibetan government in exile and the official residence of His Holiness, The Dali Lama. Red clad monks wander the streets smiling benignly and looking slightly incongruous with their modern sneakers and backpacks. further down in the valley is Dharamsala which aside from the incline of the ground, climate and unusually large Tibetan population, could be replaced by any modest sized Indian city. The palms, banyans and sandalwood trees of the lowlands have been replaced with hardy trees with gnarled trunks and stately evergreens. Half of Bhagsu is unreachable by wheeled transport as the streets turn into wide stone and concrete staircases. In the time i have been here it has already rained more than it has the entire rest of my stay in India. For the first time I am truly grateful that i have packed a sweater in my luggage.
How exactly does one find them self a kilometer above the snow line in woefully inadequate shoes? To understand this, you need to understand the seductive quality of mountain trails. I awoke early one morning to find that it was one of those rare clear days for this time of year. I flicked the hot water heater on and decided to go for a short walk uphill so by the time i returned the shower would be ready. I strolled up the mountain until the houses became less frequent and finally petered out entirely. There was a small temple near one of the smaller peaks i decided to investigate that, and having come this far already, why not see what the view was from that peak? the path skirted around that peak, but seemed to lead up to another. how could i not follow it? after all the trail was clearly well used and clear. i found myself meandering along the side of the ridge through a landscape that cried out to be filmed by Peter Jackson. enormous boulders jutted out from the mountain side and tree trunks curled from ledges in sheer defiance of gravity. massive rhododendrons with trunks thicker than five people standing together littered the winding road with fiercely magenta blossoms. the trees were alive with birds of every description from large skulking blue magpie to tiny cheeky warblers. Croaking ravens tumbled through the sky, more than any other species of bird, seeming to enjoy the act of flying. as the path wound upwards, i saw an eagle climbing the thermals at eye level and as i walked further above the clouds i spotted a Himalayan Griffon, A species of vulture so impossibly large that you couldn't help but wonder how they stay aloft. The Himalayan Griffon inevitably reminds one of it's Mythological namesake.
At what would turn out to be the midpoint of my walk I stopped for breakfast at a Chai shop that simply had no business being there. all my questions about how he got supplies and how many customers he had per week were short circuited by the astonishing view over the valley and the fact that i was quite possibly eating the best omelet that I've ever had. A sign outside the chai shop announced that i was halfway between Dharamsala and Triund. where was Triund? well i hadn't walked this far not to find out. I left the small cafe with thanks to the owner who continued to hum tunelessly to himself, as he had the entire time i was there. As i marched on the road became steeper, more winding and even more picturesque. My solitude was occasionally interrupted by fellow trekkers on their way back downhill. we exchanged pleasantries and information about the path ahead and continued on our respective ways. i passed one or two more chai shops and gradually came to a dusting of snow which soon became a decent coating. cursing my poor shoe choice, i soldiered on on the grounds that my feet were already wet anyway. i waded through the snow up a quickly narrowing more slippery trail finally i came within sight of the peak a man peered down and waved assuring me it was only five more minutes to the top. this man turned out to be the owner of (you guessed it) a chai shop. I evidently left the part of me that would have been offended by this blatantly commercial intrusion into the wilderness back in lower ground and happily paid the last five rupees in my wallet for a warm glass. I was informed that we were 2900 meters above sea level. Looking out over the valley i couldn't tell where the land ended and the clouds began. i turned to face the other direction and found myself viewing still taller cloud veiled peaks. i drained the last of my sweet tea and decided that this was the perfect time to resist temptation and go back the way i came
Comments
Post a Comment