Introduction to My Blog and My Recent Adventure

Good day.

Hah, I finally got the guts to set my hands (and my brain!) on 'creating my own blog', all thanks to my friend, Mary. In fact I have been procrastinating it for as long as I can remember though I have heard about such a thing as 'blogging' for quite a while. Few people have asked me to create one but I often ask 'Whatever for?' 'What is there to post on the blog?' At least for me anyway! Now everything is history. But I still wonder 'What am I going to do with the CREATED blog?' Well, I thought for a start, perhaps I can write something about my recent adventure in India.

Some starter (I had wanted to use the word 'appetiser', but some might think that the word is 'too appetising' for the context!) before the main course:

I scored a few 'first' for the trip:

1. first time trekking with only one other person (past trekking trips had minimum of 6 people),
2. first time trekking in 'camping' style (for overseas trip),
3. first time trekking with my friend, Chin,
4. first time trekking in India,
5. first time...oh, perhaps that is not important.

Arh, my neck is getting stiff, my back aching and worst of all, my brain is getting (more like already) frozen. This is the result of trying to create the blog. So I need a break and I will continue tomorrow. Sorry folks, no main course until then.

My Adventure in India

MY ADVENTURE IN INDIA

23 MAY - 06 JUNE 2007

Adventure of the Night – Day 1

Writing is just like cooking, you need to have the right mood, and the inspiration - without which, the end result may be unpalatable; worse, it may cause indigestion. Unfortunately, 'right mood' and inspiration could be scarce commodities sometimes. After two cups of coffee and a gulp of fresh air, I finally found some. And so the story continues...

First, let me introduce my travelling partner, Chin.

I first met Chin during my trip to Pakistan last year. She was my roommate. Talking about Pakistan, let me sidetrek, oops, I mean sidetrack a little. There were a few 'first's for the trip too - it was the first time I ever made a decision - barely one week before the departure date - to join a group of total strangers (not knowing what to expect)! And of course, it was also my first time to Pakistan. The fact that I am still here writing tells that 'all was well'! Let's leave Pakistan for now and get back to India.

During that trip (in Pakistan), I learnt that Chin is an avid trekker. And so we had something in common to talk about. It is therefore not difficult to see why we 'embark on the same trip, same place and same time'.

We left, by MAS, on the evening of 23 May for Delhi, full of expectations. It was my second trip to India, but first for trekking.

We landed safely at the Indira Gandhi International Airport at about 9.20pm. As we stepped out of the airport, a gust of hot air greeted us. The temperature was something like 39 deg. Celsius, we were told. We couldn't wait to get to the hotel. Unfortunately, our guide, Tek, and the driver lost their way. At first we thought that they could not locate the hotel. Tek was frantically making calls on his mobile phone while the driver - at every available opportunity - would wind down the car window to talk to pedestrians or motorists. While we could not understand Hindi, we knew they were asking for directions.

Time was ticking away and after many many right turns, left turns, U-turns (fortunately no overturn!), few more phone calls and winding down of windows, they suddenly stopped at the roadside of a major road where it seemed most remote that our hotel should be located. A gentleman got onto the car. Were we scared? Did we panic? No, we remained cool. We then realised that they were supposed to pick up the manager of our tour agent at some place - which we later learnt, a place near to a pillar no. 165 of Metro line!

At last, we reached the hotel. After the initial formality and emptying almost our wallets, (Well, most of the money we brought was for paying the agent and the manager was there to collect it.) we finally got to retire to bed at about 1.20am!

So much of our First Night Adventure in Delhi; time to move on, I have got a train to catch.

The Shatabedi Express and More – Day 2 & 3

Early next morning, we took a train, Shatabedi Express to Amritsar, the holy town of Sikhs in Punjab state. Amritsar is about 447km north-west of Delhi.

Along the way, the dull vast flat expanse of farmland, punctuated with the occasional pockets of dilapidated farmhouses and haystacks just could not arouse my interest and fascination. I thought a nap would do justice to my very much deprived sleep.

After about 5 hours of rather uneventful journey, we reached our destination. One interesting thing to note about travelling by train in India is - not only is food served on board, but plenty of it. Throughout the journey, the railway staff were seen busy walking up and down the aisle distributing food to the passengers.

It was extremely hot too in Amritsar. We visited the Golden Temple (which is the most sacred temple for the Sikhs) in the afternoon before heading for Attari, at the India-Pakistan border, to witness the border closing (flag lowering) ceremony. This ceremony takes place every evening and it has been taking place since the countries’ Independence. This is the place and time where people from both countries really demonstrate their patriotism to their respective countries. The crowd (both sides), the cheers and the shouting were just incredible.

The next day, off we went, heading for Dharamsala, about 220km north-east of Amritsar. Dharamsala is synonymous with the Dalai Lama of Tibet.

A little bit of digression: During the uprising of Tibet in 1959, the Dalai Lama was requested by China to flee the country in order to carry on the Tibetan struggle from ‘the outside’. On the night of 17 March 1959, he fled Lhasa (capital of Tibet) in disguise, arriving safely in India on 31 March of the same year. He was warmly received and granted asylum by the government of India. He has since then been staying in Dharamsala. Many Tibetans, following in his footsteps, escaped too and became refugees in different parts of the world, one of which is Dharamsala.

We left the hotel at about 9.05am. The weather was still very hot but with the air condition, it was not too bad. Unfortunately after some time, the heat was getting unbearable and we realised that the air condition had broken down! It was around noon and while Tek and the driver sent the car for repair, we had lunch at one of the restaurants off the highway near Pathankot.

After crossing the bridge at the state border, Punjab was behind us and we were then in the Himachal Pradesh state, the state where we would be spending most of our time for the next two weeks.

As we progressed, the scenery started to change. Slowly, the dull flat land gave way to the more interesting greens and mountain ranges, though the air still remained dry and the sky, hazy.

Gradually, we started to ascend. The air also started to get cooler, the sky, clearer; and soon the snow-capped mountain appeared in the distance. I learnt that that is Dhauladhar range, where Manali Pass, our ultimate destination, is located.

We wound down the window to enjoy the cool, crisp air. It was refreshing. And with the beautiful snow-capped mountain in the backdrop, I felt that my adventure had just started.

We arrived in Dharamsala at about 3.45pm. After checking in the hotel, Pema Thang Guesthouse, we took a short rest before venturing out into the town.

Basically Dharamsala is divided into Lower Dharamsala (or Dharamsala proper) and Upper Dharamsala or Mcleodganj, which is more commonly known. Our hotel is located in Mcleodganj.

While Lower Dharamsala is predominantly Indians, Mcleodganj – known as little Lhasa after capital of Tibet – is dominated by Tibetans. The official residence of the Dalai Lama and the headquarters of the Tibetan Government in Exile are located here. Tibetan’s curios, arts, food, characteristics, culture and tradition pervade this quaint little town. And according to some locals, Dharamsala is a favourite haunt among the hippies, even today.

After walking around for about 2-1/2 hours popping in and out of almost every shop, buying almost nothing, it was time to give our hungry stomachs a treat. We had dinner at Mcllo Restaurant, before returning to the hotel at about 8.15. It started to drizzle on our way back.

As night grew, the rain became heavier. I lay in bed listening to the rhythm of the falling rain...

Dharamsala - Home of the Dalai Lama – Day 4

Dawn comes early in this part of India and at this time of the year. At five, the sky is already bright and clear. As I got up from bed to get ready for the new day, I could hear the sound of chanting coming from somewhere. I decided to see where the chanting came from.

As I stepped out to the balcony, a cool breeze brushed against my face. Beyond the balcony, the light morning mist added mystique to the surrounding. Across the little valley and behind the mist, I could faintly see monks sitting on the floor praying and chanting outside a monastery. I later learnt that the monastery was one of the places I would be visiting later in the day.

After getting ready and a hearty breakfast, including some Tibetan bread, we set off. It would be a day of sightseeing, exploring and getting to know more about the ‘holy town’ of Himachal Pradesh.

Our first stop was the Norbulinga Institute, located about 14km east of Mcleodganj. The institute was established in 1988. The main aim was to teach and preserve traditional Tibetan art such as woodcarving, statue-making, thangka (Tibetan religious) painting and embroidery. Among the many facilities the institute offers are – Centre for the arts and workshop, the Academy for Tibetan Culture, research centre, art and handicraft shops and museum.

At the garden within the institute ground and below a linen shade propped up by some bamboo poles, we saw a group of people, both young and old, sitting on floor mats. The adults were seen busy chatting away, some with babies tucked comfortably on their laps, while the children were seen happily scampering around. I asked someone what they were there for and was told that they were waiting for food. Accordingly, the institute provides food to those who need it.

As we left the institute, the laughter of the children tailed off in the distance.

Next was the museum of Kangra Art which is located in Lower Dharamsala. Here, one can find the miniature paintings from the Kangra school of art, elaborately embroidered costumes of Kangra people, woodcarvings and tribal jewellery.

On the way back, we passed by the building of Tibetan Government in Exile. Of course we were not allowed in. We then proceeded to Namgyal Monastery. Opposite the monastery is the residence of the Dalai Lama. No photograph was allowed even from the outside of the residence and a guard was seen guarding the place. Within and outside the monastery were rows and rows of padded mats made of cloth. Here, the monks would sit or kneel for their daily prayers and chanting.

Late in the afternoon, we went to Bhagsu where a waterfall is located. We were supposed to walk up to the waterfall but it started to rain. And as Chin was in her sandals, and the path was muddy, stony and uneven, we decided not to take the risk as the highlight of the trip – trekking – has yet to start.

It was then back to more shopping in Mcleodganj.

Dharamsala is sited on a hill. Roads here are therefore generally steep and streets in Mcleodganj are very narrow and steep. Shopping here can be twofold – keep fit while you shop. Shops here are predominantly run by Tibetans though we came across a few run by Nepalese and Indians. ‘Anything Tibetan can be found here’ is not an overstatement.

As Chin and I were the only Chinese around the town at that time, we ‘attracted’ quite a few stares. Some would ask where we are from while others would look at us as if we were aliens. One could see monks in their burgundy robes, with brown sling bags hung over their shoulders, walking about the town; some seemed so aimless that perhaps loiter might be a more appropriate word. Some were seen deep in concentration on their computers, while others were playing chess or some board games in restaurants. Many women here still wear the beautiful and colourful traditional Tibetan costumes.

In the centre of the town stands a chorten (Buddhist religious monument) with two rows of prayer wheels, one row on each side of the chorten. Often, one could see people spinning the wheels (for blessing) clockwise as they passed by the place.

Mcleodganj is a small town and within hours, we had poked our nose into every shop and had left our footprints on every inch (or cm?) of the steep narrow pathways. Fortunately, we managed to keep our wallet 'intact’! It was time to call it a day, but not before we had our dinner. We liked the food at Mcllo Restaurant so much that we decided to pay them another visit. With that, my first visit to Dharamsala – home of the Dalai Lama – came to an end.

Long Road to Manali – Day 5

‘After breakfast drive 250km 6 hours drive and 2 hours lunch and stops to Manali...’ screamed the itinerary given to us by our tour agent.

Wao, that would be a long day, I thought. Looking at the map, it did not seem logical. Manali is on the east of Dharamsala and from what I could see from the map, it is much closer to Dharamsala than Amritsar is to Dharamsala. Yet according to the itinerary, it requires longer time. It did not make sense to me. The mystery slowly unfolded as we journeyed along.

We left the hotel at about 8.40. The weather was good with clear blue sky.

I was following our route on a map and each time I came across a village or town, I would look up the map to find out where we were. I imagined that we would be travelling from west to east. But I realised we were actually going in the south-east direction, and we were heading further and further away from Manali. I was puzzled. A check with our guide showed me why.

The area between Dharamsala and Manali is dominated by the mountain range, and due to the difficult terrain, the only way to travel directly from west to east (and vice versa) is on foot – that is walk and trek – and it takes between 15 and 18 days to trek from one place to the other through the difficult, but scenic mountain range.

Upon further enquiry to our guide and a closer look at the map, I learnt that the only way to get to Manali on vehicles is to travel south east until a town called Mandi, about 125km away, then turn left (eastwards). Further down at a place called Aut, head for north. In short, the route is somewhat in a shape of a (rather distorted) horseshoe.

After about two hours of relatively slow drive and about 50km away from Dharamsala, we came to a place called Baijnath. We stopped to visit one of the most famous temples in the area, Lord Shiva Temple.

The temple is famous for the Linga (embodiment of Shiva). During the colourful ‘Shivaratri’ festival which falls in the month of March, both devotees and tourists flock to the temple to get blessing from Lord Shiva. It is believed that the ‘Lord of Physician’, Shiva, frees people from all kinds of ailments and diseases. It is also believed that the water within the temple premises has the ‘curative and medicinal’ properties.

Soon after we resumed our journey, we came to a complete halt. There was a traffic jam caused by none other than a big herd of sheep. They occupied one side of the road thus immobilising the traffic. Two herdsmen were seen directing the traffic (both the sheep and the vehicles).

Slowly but surely, we progressed. We stopped at a small town called Mandi for lunch. We ordered a Chicken Masala – emh, taste good. Not too long after we left Mandi, it started to drizzle.

Along the way, we stopped at Himachal Darshan Photo Gallery. The gallery displays photographs taken by a local photographer named Birbal Sharma. The gallery, a three storey building, does not look too impressive from the outside, but what is inside is. There are over 300 exhibits beautifully and artistically taken, focusing on the lifestyle and culture of the people of the state. There are also photos on the exquisite landscapes of Himachal Pradesh: lakes, snow-capped mountains and passes, rivers, valleys, ancient temples with rare carving, palaces, temples, etc.

Traffic jam is a common sight on the mountain roads (besides big cities like Delhi), primarily because of the narrow and steep gradient of the roads, and there are a lot of big heavy vehicles plying the roads. Honking seems to be the drivers’ favourite habit while behind the wheel, much similar to that of Nepal and Pakistan. In fact at the back of most buses, trucks and lorries are inscribed: Horn, please.

During the journey, we encountered three more traffic jams. The first one was when a bus driver (from down south, we were told), had problem manoeuvring and negotiating a sharp bend thus holding traffic up in both directions. The second one was due to some repair work to a minor landslide. The third one was interesting.

Our driver suddenly stopped. Then I saw some people in uniform on the opposite side of the road with walkie-talkies. One of the men came over and said something to the driver. I thought it was some sort of check post, which is not uncommon. But there was no sign of the driver moving on. I then asked Tek what was happening. We were told that the road is too narrow for two vehicles to pass at the same time, especially big vehicles. The walkie-talkies are used to communicate between ‘one narrow end and the other’. I got the picture – there were cars coming from the other direction and we had to wait.

Indeed driving in the mountainous region of India is both an art and science. It needs a skill and patience that most properly you and I would never acquire.

The drizzle was gone and the sky brightened up. It brought some cheer to the otherwise long and tiring journey. I could see the landscape clearly now – we were travelling alongside River Beas on one side with sheer rock face on the other, some with overhanging rock so low that it appears to almost touching the tall vehicles like buses and trucks. Hairpin bends seemed to be the order of the day. I lost count the numbers we passed.

The cheer didn’t last long. It started to rain and it became heavier and heavier.

With long hours cooped up in the car, the rain falling incessantly, and the otherwise beautiful view obscured by the rain, our spirit was somewhat dampened. Sleep seemed to be the best option.

I woke up when my head hit against the car window. I saw that we were about to enter a tunnel. As we were ‘crawling’ inside the tunnel, I felt as if we had just entered into ‘darkness of eternity’. I had never been to any tunnel that long – about 3km we were told. (Chin told me that the SMART tunnel in Kuala Lumpur is somewhat that long or may be slightly longer.) I asked Tek where we were and was told ‘Aut’. I looked at the map and sighed, ‘What a long way more to go!’ We still had ‘one side’ of the horseshoe to cover.

After few more hours of swaying from left to right and right to left, few more naps and more titbits later, we finally reached Manali at about 5.30pm. It was still raining when we arrived. After settling down in the hotel and some freshen up, it was time for dinner.

Johnson’s Café was highly recommended and since it is located just a couple of minutes walk from our hotel, we decided to check it out. The café is attached to a hotel of similar name. It has a nice garden tastefully decorated, with tables and chairs neatly arranged on the veranda. We could feel the coziness even before we stepped into the restaurant proper. Inside, the ambience set the right mood for a lovely and relaxing (perhaps romantic for some) evening. ‘This is just what we need,’ I said to myself as I entered.

It was supposedly famous for its wood-oven baked trout. We tried. Well, it lived up to its reputation.

As Chin and I were busily recounting our long journey of the day, one lady walked over to our table to find out how we were getting on. She is beautiful, elegant and refined yet humble and friendly. We guessed she must be the owner and we were right.

We enjoyed the dinner very much and after the satisfying meal, we visited the few shops located near to our hotel as it was too late to go to the town proper.

We shopped until the chill reminded us that it was time to get back to the hotel.

Warming Up – Day 6

Having been ‘grounded’ in the car for more than eight hours the day before, I could not wait to stretch and exercise my legs. So when Tek told us that we would be exploring Manali and its adjacent villages on foot, I could not be happier. Even the sky was smiling, a far ‘cry’ from the previous day’s mood.

The day started off with the visit to Hidimba Devi Temple after a short walk from the hotel through the beautiful cedar forest. Along the way, we met many people, some were students on their way to schools, and some were having their day out with the families in the forest, while some, like us, were heading for the temple.

The temple, built in 1553, is dedicated to the Goddess of Hidimba, wife of Bhim who is one of the Pandava brothers. It is believed that Bhim had to kill the demon brother of Hidimba in order to marry her. Thereafter the two stayed together for a year before Bhim left her to join his brothers. Hidimba gave birth to his son and took care of him till he was old enough to look after the kingdom. After this, she went into isolation and meditated. The temple was built in her honour. It is a four story wooden building in the shape of pagoda with fine and intricate carving. No idol is enshrined, only a footprint on a stone is kept within.

Within the vicinity of the temple, there were vendors selling local titbits and delicacies, souvenirs, etc. There were also some men and women with woolly rabbits (angora) to attract the attention of both the locals and tourists. It was my first encounter with the animal. It looks much bigger than the normal rabbit, perhaps because of the long and thick fur. I could not help but to take a photo with the lovely animal.

We continued our slow walk and soon came to the Old Manali village. We passed by a row of shops selling traditional costumes, shawls, local delicacies and a few dhaba (something like our local coffee shops). Only a handful of people were seen on the road, a rather quiet and deserted place.

We then came to an area with some very old and unique looking houses. We were told that these houses were built to withstand earthquake. A couple of meters away, we came to a place where a group of young kids, about 13 of them, gathered around a middle-aged lady. It was a day care centre of sort, I guessed. Some of them were playing and fighting, some crying and few were staring at us lovingly and longingly.

Gradually, we were gaining height, and from where we were, we could see sprawling villages down in the valley on the other side of River Beas.

Manali is located in the Kullu Valley and Kullu Valley is known as the Valley of Apples. It was therefore inadvertent that we should walk into an apple orchard. They were still green. We were told that the fruit would ripen only in two to three months’ time. I imagined by then the place would turn into a ‘sea’ of different colours and hues.

‘Take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints’, I once saw this somewhere.

As we spent our morning walking, exploring and enjoying the beautiful sunshine and scenery, watching the local people go by, we took lots of photos and left our footprints at every possible corner and path.

After passing by another village called Goshal, we crossed the River Beas on a small, flimsy looking timber-bridge supported by a single tree trunk below the planks.

We then walked up to a waterfall called Jogni Fall. Nothing really very spectacular about the fall but the view of the valley from the top was and the walk was a good worked out. We met some Caucasian tourists on the way. We spent about 20 minutes at the waterfall resting and had a quick bite of snacks before heading down.

Next stop was Vashisht village, on the north-east of Manali. It is famous for its hot sulphur spring. There is a building with public bath inside. Though I was tempted to try it, I didn’t. But I tested the water at the standpipe outside the building – ouch...it’s hot! Women were seen washing clothes using the spring water adjacent to the building. The village was abuzz with people, traders, tuk-tuk (three-wheeler taxi) and motorbikes, much more alive than the Old Manali we were at earlier.

We walked for more than three hours and overall, it was a good warming up exercise and acclimatisation for our trekking which was due to start the following day.

Going through this remote part of the country, meeting the young innocent, loveable children; seeing how the adults go about their daily chores in the most rudimentary ways and sedentary manners somehow gave me some kind of nostalgic feeling. It was like going back 40 to 50 years in time, when everything was so simple and basic; life was simple and slow moving; modern technology, non existent.

We took a tuk-tuk back to Manali, about 3km away. It cost us Rs 30 (about RM 2.50). With the poor condition of the road and the unsteadiness of the car, we were bouncing up and down, swaying left and right – a natural and free massage of sort!

After lunch, Tek left us to roam about Manali town. There are many more shops here than in Mcleodganj. The most famous street here is the Mall.

As we were busy going from one shop to another, it started to rain.

Besides apples, the Kullu valley is famous for its shawl. I had never seen any place with more shops selling shawls than here in Manali. This was our first introduction to the Kullu shawl industry. Almost every other shop here sells shawls. There are some shops which even have the handlooms, where one can see weaving in action. We went to one but unfortunately, there was ‘no action’ that day, wrong timing!

The warmth and friendliness of some shop owners and assistants could be overwhelming. They could be persistent too. Here is one typical example of how they tried to promote their shawls:

‘Our shawls are all good quality, made from good quality pashmina, silk, wool, angora (wool from rabbit). See, no crease! Authentic material...’ The man continued, ‘This is 80% pashmina, 20% wool; this one 60% pashmina, 40% silk; that one over there 70% angora, 30% silk; over here, this one 50% wool, 50% silk; this is pure pashmina, a little bit expensive, but very nice, very soft, feel it, very nice, you will like it...’ he went on and on, like reciting a prayer. By the time he finished, what I remembered and didn’t remember was something like 5% and 95%!

The rain was as persistent as the man at the shop. It continued to rain until late in the evening. We kept our fingers crossed that the sky would cooperate with us the next day!

Manali Pass – Day 9

At home, having to wake up early always seems to be a difficult task. But while on holiday, it somehow becomes second nature to none. I woke up early as usual, feeling fresh and eager to start yet another new day. The climax of the trip had finally arrived. We would be trekking up to Manali Pass at 4,800m.

I unzipped the tent, had a peep outside and saw the clear blue sky awaiting us. I dashed out immediately to catch the cool morning breeze. It was so...so refreshing. I walked over to the kitchen tent to get some hot water. Ram was busy cooking while Sangy was seen getting ready some ingredients.

Ram and Sangy seemed to make good working partners. They were both originally from Nepal. Sangy is a fine young man with a very cheerful and sunny disposition while Ram, besides the charming smile, always surprised us with different menu and delicious dishes.

The campsite was located on a plateau, devoid of any trees and protection, unlike camp 1. Breakfast was held close to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley with the stunning Himalayan Range in the backdrop. What a novelty!

After breakfast, we left at about 8.40. We would be trekking up to Manali Pass then returned to the same camp for another night.

Shortly after we started walking, I turned back towards the direction of the campsite and saw Ram and Sangy clearing the breakfast ‘table’ while Jhaba Ram, the horseman took the horses grazing. Where the campsite was, the ground was almost barren and so Jhaba had to take the horses to lower level to look for grass.

While one may be bowled over by the beautiful and spectacular scenery, the trails would keep you on your toes sometimes and your adrenalin high.

While the trails on the first day was generally green, dry and sandy, and at times without clear cut path, etc; the subsequent trails were rocky, muddy, sometimes extremely narrow and sandwiched between snow.

We began to ascend, at times very steep. We were traversing across the mountain on a narrow ledge, full of boulders, rock pieces and stones, some were loose. Prudent was the order of the day as a misstep could send one down the slope.

At 4,000m above sea level, we were above treeline. Flowers were far and few. We were at wide open space. As it was still early into the trekking season, we were the only group of trekkers. Indeed, we were having ‘the whole world to ourselves’. I really enjoyed the peace, the serenity and the tranquility.

About one hour into trekking, we came to the snow field where we saw Tek and company coming down the day before (when they went to assess the situation). My heart skipped a beat. But with Tek’s help, and step by step, I crossed the snow field!

As we were huffing and puffing along the steep rocky trail, I looked up and saw what appeared to be the ‘top’ of the mountain, I asked Tek, ‘Is that the ridge we are supposed to reach before going up to the Pass?’

‘No, we are going much higher up, still far away,’ Tek replied.

‘Oh!’ I responded.

More huffs, more encounter of snow and climb later, we came to the steep slope (the one where the horses were not able to go up). Yes, STEEP is the word. Chin and I looked at each other then turned to Tek, ‘We are going up there?’ asking the obvious. My jaw dropped, my heart cringed.

Chin and I took turn to go up, with Tek’s help. I went first. On the way up, I slipped. I got up and slipped again. Somehow, I seemed to have lost all grips – between the shoes and snow, between my hands and Tek’s, and perhaps even of my confidence. I felt powerless. I looked up and saw that I was barely 3m away from the top of the slope and beyond, the spectacular view beckoned me. I regained my composure and determined to make it; and with a hard pull from Tek, I was over the slope and on to the ridge. I was overjoyed.

Chin and Tek were up soon after. We were at about 4,300m high. Tek told us that we were at part of the Manali Pass, and that we would ascend further to about 4,800m.

I was completely entranced by the view, a 360 degree view. At every angle we turned, a different vista greeted us. On one side, we had the Dhauladhar range where Manali Pass is and down below was the Kullu valley. Across where we were, was another lower mountain, peppered with pockets of snow.

As we stopped to enjoy and savour the panoramic view of the Himalayan Range, and busy snapping photos away, the wind became much stronger and it was getting very cold. We put on our jacket and moved on. The scenery was indeed overwhelming and awe-inspiring.

After a slow walk on the gentle grassed-trail, we came to another snow field before we reached our final destination at 4,800m, a small peak of sort. The snow-covered trail continued and some distance away, was another higher peak, above 5,000m, we were told. I asked Tek where that lead to and was told, ‘Dharamsala, 15 days trek away.’ That reminded me of the day when we had the long journey from Dharamsala to Manali and asking why wouldn’t we travel direct from west to east. I knew why then.

About two hours into our adventure on the Pass, dark clouds loomed over the horizon, time to leave. We started to descend. By then, snow fields and the steep slopes all became a familiar sight. We had a quick lunch on our way before reaching the slope where we could either walk or slide. I chose the latter. It saved us a lot of walking. We reached the campsite at about 2.45pm.

Soon after we arrived, it started to rain and the wind was getting stronger and stronger.

Besides the kitchen tent and the dining tent, we also had a toilet tent. The wind was so strong that the toilet collapsed in the midst of the strong wind. It happened just seconds after Chin came out from it. It was kind of funny. Just the day before, during the strong wind and heavy rain, Chin was saying that, ‘What happen if the toilet got blown off when someone is inside?’ Her ‘prediction’ came true minus the person inside, fortunately.

The rain stopped and the wind abated. Just before four, we had our afternoon tea, before we retired for some rest.

Chin and I were recounting our experience, talking and joking when suddenly the quiet evening was shattered by the hard pouring rain. The wind was howling and our tent was flapping ferociously. Then we realised that water was coming into our tent near the entrance and at the side. As we could not get out to ask for help from the crew because the rain was too heavy, we did the best we could. We took out our spare towels to soak up the water, put some plastic bags (trash bags to be exact) around and moved away from it. With the limited space of the tent, we could not move too far!

We were thankful that the rain and wind did not come when we were still on the trail. It was indeed an experience that would linger on long after I have left the place.

Trek - Sweat - Camp – Day 7

The weather could not have been better, the spirit could not have been higher, the legs could not have been more ready. And with a photo taken with Chin and Tek outside the hotel (so that I can remember how I looked like before the start of the trek), we left the hotel at about 9.00.

Just before we left the hotel, we met a group of seven young Singaporeans, both boys and girls. They were there for a mountaineering course, part of their university curriculum programme. When we met them, they had just returned from a 15-day trekking trip. Some of them were still so energetic and bubbly that it looked like they were ready to climb another mountain anytime!

We travelled by car to a house, about 5 minutes drive away. The house belongs to the boss of our tour agent. This is the place where all the camping gears, cooking utensils etc. and any of the clients’ spare luggage are kept. It is also the starting point of the trek.

When we arrived, the horses and the crew (a cook, an assistant cook and the horseman), were already there. I was surprised to see five horses there. One of them is a baby, too young to carry any load but he tagged along to be close to the mother – how touching!

While the crew was busy putting the load onto the horses, and after collecting our packed lunch, we bid farewell to the people we met at the house.

‘Don’t we wait for them?’ I asked Tek.

‘Don’t worry, they will come and catch up with us fast,’ Tek replied.

At 9.30, we left the house, all set for my first trekking trip in India. We started walking, full of anticipation. Without realising it, we were off the road, away from all the houses, traffic and the hustle and bustle of Manali. We found ourselves in a pine forest.

All along, we could see the snow-capped mountains, in the distance, towering over the valley; the same valley we saw the day earlier, except that we were now viewing from a much higher ground.

The weather was beautiful and the scenery spectacular. The trail was relatively steep with occasional flat sections. Soon, we came out of the pine forest into a wide expanse of open rolling hill, flanked by more pine trees all around.

‘We stop here for lunch,’ Tek announced. Suddenly hunger pangs overpowered me. I looked at the watch, it was about 12.30. We had been walking for three hours with few short stops in between, both to catch our breath and to have a quick snack.

As we were enjoying our lunch and chatting away, we heard the sound of bells. I looked to our right and saw that the horses and the crew were coming up from the slope below, a brief greeting as they passed by then continued.

Half and hour later, we resumed out trek.

‘How long more, Tek?’ I asked.

‘Emh, about 1-1/2 hours more,’ came the reply.

It was a hot day, too hot for comfort at times. The occasional wind and breeze eased the discomfort somewhat.

After we had reached the pine forest line and turned to the other side of the mountain, the trail flattened out.

I was enjoying the slow walk along the relatively flat trail with shady trees lining both sides of the path when I saw Tek suddenly stopped, turned around and smiled at us. I did not know why and when I reached where he was standing and looked towards the direction he was looking, I saw our crew members, the horses and a tent!

‘This is it? We have arrived? Our campsite?’ I asked in disbelief. I was expecting half an hour more. I could see the horses roaming and grazing – having their much deserved meal, while the crew members were busy going about their chores – unpacking, setting up stove, setting up more tents, etc.

Tek smiled and nodded, ‘Yes, this is the campsite, your home for the night.’

I was so excited. The place is so beautiful, the verdant field with trees lining the edge of the campsite. Close-by is a stream – our source of water supply. We were at camp 1, called Lambadug, 3,380m high.

I took a deep breath and felt relief that our first day trek was over. I very much looked forward to see what and how camping is like in a foreign land.

Ram, the cook, Sangy, the assistant cook and Jhaba Ram, the horseman started to set up the tent for us. While waiting, we walked about the campsite, taking in the fresh air, more photos and relaxing our tired legs.

With the efficiency of Ram and company, the tent was completed within minutes. We then ‘moved’ in to our ‘new home’, unpacked and ‘dry-cleaned’ ourselves before taking a rest. Later, Chin and I went through the photos on our digital cameras, talking and laughing.

At 4.00, we had afternoon tea at the dining tent and at seven, we had our first campsite-dinner. I really did not expect such sumptuous and delicious food at camp. We had pappadum, tomato soup, curry chicken, paneer (cheese), fried ladies fingers with rice and dessert.

Over dinner, I asked Tek what was the distance we covered for the day and was told about 10km.

Soon, the sun went down, the cold of the night crept in, and the bonfire came to life.

As we were engrossed in getting ourselves warm, little did we realise that the moon had slowly and coyly appeared in the night sky. It was a full moon – Beautiful!

Two ladies, four men, five horses, moonlight, bonfire – that was all we had in the wilderness of Himachal Pradesh, a dramatic state in the northern part of the Indian subcontinent. Silence ruled the night, saved for the occasional snorting of the horses and the chatting of Tek and company.

‘Wao, this is surreal,’ I said to myself.

I was very much mesmerised by what was happening when I suddenly felt the chill. I looked up and saw that the fire was petering out. ‘Time to go to bed,’ I thought; then I remembered, ‘arhn, no bed tonight, only sleeping bag’!

After a day of ‘hard work’, falling asleep was not really difficult. After the initial shuffling trying to find a comfortable position and location (only a layer of canvas sheet, a thin rubber mat and the down sleeping bag separated us from the hard ground below), I was in slumber land.

Nature call, unlike telephone call, was something that one could not ignore regardless of time and condition it came calling. At midnight, I woke up. Thinking that it must be freezing cold, windy and pitched dark outside, I armed myself with my winter jacket and torchlight and staggered out of the tent into the open. Much to my surprise, it was all calm and less cold than earlier of the night, and with the bright moonlight illuminating the campsite, the torchlight became redundant.

Dwarfed by the Mountain, Charmed by the Beauty – Day 8

I woke up at about five. Through the ‘roof’ of the tent, I could see that the sky was bright and clear. Feeling warm and comfortable inside the sleeping bag, I decided to laze around for a while longer.

Finally I got up. I stepped out of the tent, greeted the new day with open arms, took a deep breath and exclaimed ‘what a wonderful day’!

I went to the stream to collect some water for washing. On the way, I passed by the kitchen tent. I saw Ram and Sangy already up and about, busy preparing breakfast and lunch. We greeted each other.

On the way back to the tent, I met Tek.

‘Did you have a good sleep last night?’

‘Oh yes, very well, thank you,’ I responded.

When I returned to the kitchen/dining tents area an hour later, I saw that the makeshift breakfast table – which was a storage trunk – was already set up in the open next to the dining tent. Laid on top of the ‘table’ were cereals, omelette, toast, tea and coffee. At both sides of the ‘table’ and on the ground were rubber mats.

Outdoor breakfast under the sun! – ‘this is incredible’, I thought. Had I expected all these? No, not at all.

By 8.45, we left the campsite, all ready to charge on. We were heading for camp 2 in Ranisui at 4,268m.

The trail was generally not as steep as the day before but the landscape was indeed captivating.

As we journeyed along and gradually gaining heights, the panoramic view of the Pir Panjal range appeared much closer. Right along our pathway, the rolling hills were blanketed in beautiful white and yellow wild flowers. I was charmed and entranced by the picture-perfect landscape but felt dwarfed and insignificant amid the vast boundless mountain world.

The beautiful scenery had a therapeutic effect. It helped us forget that there were still miles ahead. Stopping along the way to take pictures and savour the majestic view helped to evaporate the tiredness away.

After walking for about three hours, the horses caught up with us, we let them passed. Shortly after, the horses stopped, we were stuck behind them. We were wondering what happened. Then we realised that we had encountered snow. We had to traverse across the slope on snow!

We were standing on a narrow ledge and our view was blocked by the horses and could not really see what Tek and the crew were doing. Then in between the horses, I had a glimpse that they were chiselling the snow in order to create a safe path for us and the horses to cross. We were stuck there for about 40 minutes.

After the horses, it was our turn. Both Chin and I were nervous about the crossing. The crew assisted us.

After crossing, we asked Ram if there were anymore. The reply was, ‘May be one or two more, not very sure, may be...,’ before he could finish, we encountered another one. Then another... In all, we crossed no less than eight. I was scared stiff at some as some of the crossings were quite long, and the slope was steep and seemed ‘bottomless’. It is not easy to walk on snow, let alone on the slope.

I slipped and fell a few times, so as Chin. During those ‘scary’ moments, I could not help but recalled the gunny sack race we used to take part in primary school. I remembered how I would fall clumsily trying to walk as fast as I could in the gunny sack. I imagined that was how I look when I stumbled and fell on the snow field – minus the gunny sack!

We stopped for lunch at around one o’clock. It was a quick lunch of 15 minutes before we resumed our journey.

After about half an hour’s walk on a gentle slope, we started to ascend, steep one. Suddenly I heard the crew’s voice above us high at the top of the slope. I looked up and saw them. I felt something was amiss as they were much ahead of us. By then they should be way ahead.

Tek looked up and talked to them in their language. We asked what was happening. Tek then said that they encountered thick snow ahead on a very steep trail and felt that it might not be possible for the horses to pass. Tek then went up to take a look and asked us to stay put at where we were.

We waited. A minute seemed like an hour. We could see Sangy with the horses at the top of the slope. We asked where the rest were and were told that they had gone further up to check out the situation. We started to feel chilly sitting and waiting out in the open for so long, so we decided to walk up to join Sangy.

As soon as we reached the top, we saw Tek, Ram and Jhaba Ram coming down the slope in the distance. The whole place was covered with thick snow. It was an arresting sight, but the thought of having to cross it...! Arh, perhaps the saying ‘I’ll cross the bridge when I get to it’ should be ‘I’ll cross the snow when I get to it’ instead.

Tek told us that there was a place where a very steep slope was covered with thick snow and that it was impossible for the horses to go up under such condition. He went on to explain that based on the original plan, we were supposed to go to where the thick snow on the steep slope was, cross the ridge, down to the other side and camp at Ranisui (camp 2) for a night before trekking up to Manali Pass the following day. But with the situation we faced, we had two options:

First option – contact the Manali office and ask them to send a group of porters to go with us to camp 2, i.e. as per the original plan minus the horses.

Second option – to descend back to where we had lunch earlier, camp there for a night, then trek up to Manali Pass the following day.

After a brief discussion, we decided to go for the second option. And so we started to descend, with a tinge of sadness and disappointment. (This meant that our five-day trek itinerary was drastically changed, at least half of it. But we felt that perhaps that was a better and more economical option.)

We then came to a place where we had to walk down the snow field. The slope was quite gentle and Tek informed that we could slide down if we wished. We tried, it was fun. We decided to slide all the way down. Then I got stuck, somehow my body refused to move while Chin was going down so fast that she was screaming, ‘Arh, how to stop, how to stop?’ I really enjoyed that though perhaps it must have been quite a comical sight.

So, our new home for the night was at Riyali Thatch at about 4,000m. Soon after we arrived, the weather took a sudden change. It became very cold and extremely windy.

After a short while, the rain was pelting and the wind slashing hard on our tent. Nothing much we could do other than staying inside the tent talking, joking and laughing. We talked about how funny or silly we must have appeared when we fell, and how much we had enjoyed our journey so far. Though there were only two of us, fun and laughter were never in short supply.

Garlic soup, chilli chicken, fried cauliflower, dal, rice and dessert – that was what we had for dinner. After the hearty meal, it was campfire time again.

When Ram and company had finished with their day’s chores, they joined us. We all stood around the fire, one minute facing the fire and the other, against it – just to make sure we got warm all round! (Does that make us sound like lamb kebab on rotisserie!?)

The men seemed to be ‘men of few words’ to the two ladies. They preferred to talk among themselves. And so, Chin and I had to make do with the incomprehensible Hindi while trying to keep ourselves warm.

After about an hour of standing by the fire, we called it a night. As we were walking back to our tent in the cold and windy night, I thought to myself, ‘What a day it has been!’

I crept into the warmth of my sleeping bag hoping for another good night sleep. Unfortunately, it did not come as easily as the previous night. I tossed and turned, drifting in and out of dream land. I resorted to counting sheep...1, 2, 3...!

Descending – Day 10 & 11

I awoke with a sense of loss and a tinge of sadness, the feeling of anticlimax. Now that we had achieved our mission of reaching Manali Pass (albeit with a change of route due to unforeseen circumstances), we had to face the inevitable – descending.

It was not because I am scared of going down hill or crossing the snow fields, but because we had to leave the beautiful place; the place with such awe-inspiring scenery; the place which took my breath away; the place where it had given me so much peace and joy, and the time and opportunity to mull over many things.

Despite the lack of facilities and conveniences – hard ground and sleeping bag instead of comfortable bed, ‘dry clean’ instead of hot shower, trunk and rubber mats on ground instead of table and chairs, a hole in the ground instead of flush toilet – I had learnt to adapt and live with the basic of the basic.

Sad though I might be, I reminded myself that ‘the mountains will always be there; people move about, mountains don’t, I can always come back’. With that I bid farewell to camp 2. Before we left, I turned around for another look of the campsite and its surrounding. Smile, returned to my face.

We were on the same route as we were two days earlier, which means having to cross all those familiar snow fields again. At two of these snow fields, Tek stopped to hack and create a path for us and the horses.

It was a hot and sunny day. Descending was not as tiring as ascending but it could be taxing on the knees at times. So, we took things easy and had a slow walk, stopping occasionally to take some photos of views which we thought we might have missed two days earlier.

We reached the campsite (camp 1) by noon after three hours of slow, breeze walk.

While waiting for our tent to be ready, we took a quick bite of our packed lunch under a shady spot.

When the tent was ready, we moved in and did the needful – unpack, clean up, etc. Inside the tent, it was extremely hot and stifling. The sun fiercely penetrated through the thin layer of the tent roof. Outside, the sun was scorching, we chose to stay inside.

A short while later, Sangy came to our tent with tea and coffee and some biscuits. While we were having the afternoon chat over a cup of coffee, we heard a commotion outside. I took a look and found that there were new arrivals. Suddenly the campsite came to live.

Later we learnt that there were two groups of trekkers – the first was a group of five men with a lady guide from southern India while the second was a group of more than 20 high school students from England. With their ‘entourage’ of supporting crew members and horses, it was quite a sight. It broke the silence of the campsite.

In the evening after dinner and as usual, we had the campfire. But this time, we were not alone, the group from southern India came to join us. They started singing and some dancing. On the other side of the campsite, the students from England were having their own campfire and gala time.

Laughter, singing and smoke filled the air; it gave a different kind of atmosphere from what we had earlier.

I thought, ‘Wao, what a way to celebrate and end the last night of my first camping experience!’

The next morning after breakfast and having taken some shots of the campsite filled with trekkers, tents and horses, we started to descend at about 8.30.

After a relatively flat trail, we came to the steep descent. Again, we took it easy, walking slowly and enjoying the view one last time.

About 10.30, we arrived at the house. We waited for the crew to arrive. In the mean time, we chatted with some of the people who were at the house, relating to them our experience. Soon, the crew arrived. We collected our luggage and said goodbye to them.

As they left, we were told that Jhaba Ram, the horseman, just gotten married five days before. A quick mental calculation told me that he actually got married the day before the start of the trek. No wonder he seemed in a hurry to go back. Understandable. Unfortunately, it was too late to congratulate him as he had disappeared round the corner, with the horses in tow. Silently I wished him all the best.

We went back to the hotel, had our lunch, washed our clothes and had a good scrub. After days without shower, that was most welcoming and refreshing. Once all that was done, it was time to explore Manali town.

Here’s how Lonely Planet described Manali:

‘When first discovered by travellers during the 1960s, Manali was a peaceful mountain Shangri-la, with old stones houses and tranquil alpine scenery. The beautiful setting remains, but today Manali has expanded to become a major tourist resort ...’

Indeed it is. Where we stayed, everywhere we turned was hotels, nothing but hotels. A short distance from the hotel ‘enclave’ is the town proper where shops are aplenty. At night, peddlers dominate the Mall selling anything and everything one can think of. Prices can drop just like the trail. I remembered this man selling wooden chess set whom we met before we left for the trek. At one end of the Mall, he was offering us Rs 600, by the time we reached the other end, the price came down to Rs 100!

We would be visiting these familiar faces one more time before we continue with our journey the following day.

As we were approaching the town, the cacophony of car horns, traffic noise, people talking, and people shouting and laughing pierced through my ears, and a wave of nausea swept over me. For a moment, I felt that I do not belong to ‘this place’. It was not because I am Chinese and not Indian, but because of the noise, the crowd, the complexity of ‘civilisation’, the trouble and problem of modern day living.

I wanted to go back to the mountain, where I could take refuge, seek solace and find peace; I wanted to go back to the mountain where I could be in solitude looking at the horses graze, listening to the birds sing, watching the crystal clear stream water flow, enjoying the melodic sound of the leaves rustle in the gentle wind; I wanted to...

Suddenly, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a young woman with a young child in her arm – both with scruffy look and in tattered clothes; the woman with one hand stretched out, the palm cupped.

Reality hit me. Stop dreaming. Time to move on.

Rohtang Pass - the Fairyland Playground – Day 12 & 13

‘Tomorrow I will come and pick you up at 9.00, we are going to Rohtang Pass,’ Tek said to us when he dropped us off at the hotel the day before.

I did not have the slightest idea what Rohtang Pass has to offer. Perhaps it is just another pass with wide expanse of land and beautiful scenery.

The only thing I knew was what I read about in our itinerary: ...continue to snow point which is the maximum approachable road towards Rohtang Pass (3,978m) depending on the snow condition...

That was hardly any information at all. We started our journey anyhow.

‘How long does it take to reach the pass?’ I asked soon after we started the journey.

‘Erh, if no jam, it takes one hour, if jam, then may be three hours,’ was the reply.

I scratched my head and wondered, ‘Jam on the mountain road, in this remote part of the country?’ but I kept silent.

As we left Manali, all along the way, we could see stalls lining the side of the roads selling winter clothing (especially the overalls type) and high rubber boots; most of them looked old and used.

‘Tek, why are there so many people selling the winter clothing and boots?’

‘They are for rent,’ Tek could read our minds, he continued, ‘to be used at the pass.’

The answer drew a blank on my face. ‘This pass must be a mysterious place, traffic jam, and winter clothes and boots for rent!’ I was puzzled but asked no further (to conceal my ignorance)!

‘See the jam up there?’ Tek asked as he pointed towards the mountain from the front of the car.

I craned forward trying to take a look but saw nothing. When the car turned the corner, I had a peep, but again could not see any jam.

‘Arh, never mind, if the jam is there, I sure get to see it,’ I thought to myself.

About 1-1/2 hours into the journey, we came to a small town called Marhi. This is the last town before reaching Rohtang Pass. We stopped for the toilet. We got back onto the car and had hardly moved ten meters when we were stopped by a policeman and asked where we were going.

The driver then drove to the road shoulder and stopped the engine.

‘What’s happening, Tek?’ we asked.

‘We have to wait, can leave only at 11.00 to help clear the traffic, extremely bad jam further up,’ we were told. I looked at the watch, it was about 10.30.

Yes, from where we were, it was chock-a-block with vehicles, majority of it tourists’ buses, jeeps and cars. Vehicles were everywhere, kind of mayhem. Policemen and officials could be seen directing and controlling the traffic.

We finally left at 11.10. From the steep and winding road, I could then see the jam clearly. Far ahead of us, cars were crawling inch by inch up the steep, narrow and winding road surrounded by the almost barren mountain.

We were literally crawling due to the steep slope and the jam. Manali is located at the elevation of 2,050m, which meant that at 3,978m we would be ascending 1,928m.

We asked Tek where the people were going.

‘Mostly to Rohtang Pass, some to Spiti (which is a district east of the Kullu valley), some going to Leh (a town in the Jammu and Kashmir state, north of Himachal Pradesh),’ Tek reply.

I learnt more about Rohtang Pass as we caught up with the traffic jam.

The pass is 51km north-north-east of Manali and it is covered with snow throughout the year and the road is snowbound for six months of a year. In fact, the road had just been reopened very recently.

The place has also gained the reputation of being dangerous because of the unpredictable snowstorms. But many tourists, mainly locals, still throng the place especially during the summer time to escape the searing heat of the plain.

As I was getting to know more about the place, dark clouds enveloped the skyline and soon it started to rain. My heart sank, ‘Oh, what a day, what a weather!?’

The scenery was splendid; the air, invigorating, but the road...?

Not only was the road steep, winding and narrow, there were stretches which looked treacherous with sheer drop of perhaps 50 to 100 meters; loose boulders and rocks ‘sitting’ precariously on the slope, barely few meters away from the road pavement. And we were going round and round the mountain with many hairpin bends, so many that I became immune to it.

I then remembered that before I left for the trip, a friend who had been to this part of India told me to take along more Panadols. As we were being ‘flung’ from left to right and right to left, I knew why. Fortunately for us, we could ‘withstand’ the rough journey.

Finally the rain stopped and soon we came to a place with hardened snow on both sides of the road, a snow of 10m high or perhaps higher. It was amazing, I had never seen anything like this. We were told it takes months to clear, both manually and mechanically, the snow across the road.

As we were ‘wrapping’ round the mountain road, I looked down and saw a stream of vehicles going round the hairpin bend, bumper to bumper.

Finally, we arrived at the pass. I was overwhelmed by what I saw – motley group of people of all ages and nationalities, in various types of activities, dotting the glistening snow field. A fairyland playground indeed!

People in different type of activities – snow scooters, skiing, ski-tubes (sliding down the slope in rubber tubes), sleigh, horse and yak rides, and people walking about – crossed path with each other. And amidst all these happenings were stalls selling food, souvenirs and equipment for rent.

I asked Tek if accidents do happen and was told ‘very very less’.

Chin and I tried the snow scooter and yak ride. While the yak ride was rather slow and nothing out of the ordinary, the snow scooter ride was fun, exhilarating and hilarious!

We stayed at the pass for about 45 minutes before heading for the next destination – Solang valley for paragliding.

I was very much looking forward to try out paragliding as I had never been to one before. Unfortunately, it started to rain. I was hoping that it would stop by the time we reached our destination. But it was not to be, the rain got heavier and heavier and my hope of a paragliding experience was soaked up by the rain.

We then headed back to Manali arriving at about 4.30. It was a tiring journey but I had a wonderful time and experience at the pass.

.................................................

It was time to say ‘goodbye’ to Manali. After spending a few days in the summer resort which is so full of fun and live, I kind of felt sad to leave. I knew I would miss the place.

I wanted to bid Dharam, the kind, gentle and friendly staff of our hotel, goodbye. But he was nowhere to be seen. The hotel seemed extra quiet that morning. The guests had either left for other places or had gone for their trekking trip.

Our next destination was 270km away down south.

We were travelling alongside River Beas, the same route as we were on when we travelled from Dharamsala to Manali, except that this time, we were on the other side of the river. We were going downhill most of the time, slowly leaving the snow-capped mountains behind. We had a good view of the Kullu Valley on our right. The road was winding but not as winding as the one to Rohtang Pass.

After days of many mountain views and winding roads, any more of these could no longer evoke any excitement in us. Instead, I set my mind and eyes upon Shimla – capital of Himachal Pradesh, Queen of the hill stations and once the summer capital of the British Raj.

Eating (snacks) and sleeping were the ‘highlights’ of the journey while being kept entertained by the Tamil and Hindi songs coming from the car stereo.

We were losing ‘height’ fast and by the time we reached Kullu town (1,219m), which is 40km from Manali, we were running directly next to River Beas. On the way, we passed by farmland of mainly wheat and apple and plum orchards.

The balmy weather gave way to the searing heat as we descended.

Gradually, we were climbing back up again and once again, the pleasant and cool weather returned, a welcoming respite.

By the time we reached Shimla at about 6.15, we were exhausted. I could not wait to get to the room to unwind myself. Much to my chagrin, the officer seemed to be taking forever to record our particulars into his record book.

Potpourri of the Journey

Today I feel great. Finally, I finish putting my thoughts into words. As I dig deep into my memory to see if I have left out anything important or interesting, the following spring to my mind:-

Toilet with no door
On the way to Dharamsala, I asked the driver for a toilet stop. He stopped at the first petrol station we came across. Tek went down to enquire if there was one. He signalled to us that there was. Off we went, and when we reached the place, we found that there were no doors to the toilets. From the look of it, the toilets must have just been completed because everything looked brand new. Someone was kind enough to place a big wooden plank across the entrance to the lady toilet.

When you have to do it, you have to do it, door or no door.

You don’t like our service?
This took place at the restaurant near Pathankot where we had our lunch. We asked for the bill after we had finished our lunch. When the man came back with the change, I took the receipt together with the change. The man stood there and refused to move; he looked at me and asked, ‘You don’t like our service?’ I got the message, I gave him the coins which he had just given me. He took it but still refused to leave and gave me another look – and another message? I gave him another – neither look nor message, but – coin. He walked off.

My first encounter with woolly rabbit
Near the Hidimba Devi Temple, I saw an elderly man with a woolly rabbit. Since it was the first time I came across a woolly rabbit, I asked him if I could take a photo of him with the rabbit. Before I knew it, the rabbit was in my hands.

Boxes? Only in Europe
At one of the shops in Manali, Chin bought a bowl made of papier-mâché, while I bought a wood carving lamp stand, among other things. Since the bowl and the lamp stand were gifts for friends, we thought that if we could put them in boxes, it would be more presentable; so we asked the shop owner if he had any.

‘Boxes? Only in Europe. For the price you pay, you want boxes? Sorry, no box.’

We left, a few hundred rupees poorer, and without boxes.

Our duty to show, and free for you to see
For most of the shops we visited, the staff and owners are generally very warm, friendly and welcoming. They would show you almost everything they have in the shop despite you having say ‘no, it’s all right, thank you’ for no less then ten times. Here is a typical scenario at a shop selling myriads of shawls.

‘How about this one? No? Too expensive? Tell me, what is your budget? We have a wide range of quality and price range.’ ‘Then how about this one, you like? No, you don’t like the colour? What colour you like?’ He would rattle on. We would say, ‘It’s ok, thank you. We are just looking around, no need to take out anymore.’ ‘Don’t worry. It is our duty to show, and free for you to see, how about...’ As he continued talking, he took out more. Soon the counter was overflowed with beautiful shawls of different shades and sizes.

‘Our duty to show and free for you to see’, a nice slogan indeed, I like that.

You don’t like my shop?
At one shop within a shopping arcade in Manali, Chin and I were admiring at the beautiful shawls and clothes from outside. As we did not intend to buy anything, we decided not to go in as we did not want to bother the man, knowing very well that he would be more than happy to show us whatever he has. The man beckoned us to go inside. We smiled and said, ‘It’s ok, thank you.’ He then asked, ‘You don’t like my shop?’

Will it turn black?
At one roadside stall in Manali, Chin asked the vendor about a pair of earrings, ‘Is this silver?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ came the reply. ‘Will it turn black?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ came another. You would have guessed it right, we left.

All hotels are for tourists
The hotel we stayed in Manali is called Tourist Hotel.

One day, we were at this one shop selling nuts. The gentleman was very friendly and asked us a lot of questions like, ‘Where are you from?’, ‘Why are you here and for how long?’ etc. He then asked us which hotel we were staying in. We answered, ‘Tourist Hotel.’ He didn’t look too pleased and said indignantly, ‘All hotels here are for tourists. What is the name of the hotel?’!!!

He drove me nuts, almost!

My age?
On the way back from Rohtang Pass, we stopped at Marhi for lunch. At the restaurant, a man (a local) with a little boy and his family approached us. He wanted to take a photo of us with his little boy. To strike a conversation, I asked him, pointing to the boy, ‘How old is he?’ He could not understand me, so I said, ‘Age, what is his age?’ He still couldn’t understand. Someone translated, and he finally understood. Pointing at himself, he asked, ‘My age?’ Arh, well!

Separate pillows..., but twin sharing room not possible
At the hotel in Shimla, we were given a double-bed room. We requested for a twin sharing. The attendant said, ‘We can give you separate pillows, separate bed sheets and blankets and you can sleep separately; but twin sharing room, not possible, sorry.’ He left and minutes later, two young men came to the room, with much efficiency, the bed sheet and blanket for double bed were replaced by two single bed sheets and blankets. The pillows? – already separate! Now, is it a ‘twin-double’ bed, or ‘double-twin’ bed?

Sorry, this place is for two only
The compartment of the toy train (which we travelled from Shimla to Kethlighat) has two rows of seats, with one row for two people and another for four. Chin, Tek and I were on the four-seater. Opposite on the two-seater were two young men. Just before the train departed, a young couple with a young child came to our compartment. The woman and the girl sat on our side while the man tried to get a seat opposite us. One of the young men pointed the seat number above his head, indicating that the place is meant for two only. The man walked off.

Seconds later, one middle age lady walked in. She asked the same young man to move aside. The young man pointed to the seat number again. The woman said something in Hindi, the man shook his head and mumbled something. She tried to persuade him but to no avail. We could not offer her as our row was already packed with five people. So she opened the window and sit on the sill.

At the next stop, an officer shouted at her from the platform asking her to move away. Somehow, the young man had a change of heart. He moved closer to his friend and offered her the space. The woman refused. She pursed her lip, turned to him and gave him a sharp cutting look; she then turned towards us and gave us a triumphant smile.

A woman with great dignity, I salute her.

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Sometimes misunderstanding or funny and amusing incidents come about because of the differences in cultures, customs and the languages. But it is these funny and at times awkward situations that often add colour and spice to the trip and makes the trip more interesting and memorable.

Shimla and the Toy Train – Day 14 & 15

After breakfast, while waiting for Tek and the driver, we took a stroll outside the hotel.

Across the valley we could see houses perched, closely to each other, on the hill slope, some looked precarious while others looked too close for comfort. Otherwise, it looked like an engineering feat to me!

Tek and the driver arrived. Off we went to our first stop of the day – the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies.

The Institute, formerly known as the Viceregal Lodge, was once the official residence of the British viceroy of India. It was completed in 1888 and has the Scottish flavour of architecture. Many important decisions were made here, such as the 1947 decision of partitioning India into Pakistan and Bangladesh.

Although the building is more than 100 years old, they are very well maintained and preserved. While the functions of the rooms and facilities have been changed to suit the present day use, some of the things were still in their original form, such as the curtains and wall papers and even the electrical switches in some of the rooms.

A guide from the institute showed us round the building. We could only visit the ground floor. We were shown places such as the present library, conference room; rooms where important and major meetings were once held, photos of the bygone era, etc.

The building is now used as the centre for the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies. Scholars from other parts of the country and the world over carry out their research, debates and discussions here.

Outside the building, the impeccable lawn was dotted with myriads of plants, trees and flowers around. With the beautiful sunshine, it reminded me so much of the typical summer day in England.

After the eye-opening visit to the institute, we then headed for the town.

Shimla indeed is a unique town. It spreads over a 12km ridge with just two main roads – the Mall (pedestrian walk) which runs from the far west to the lower eastern side, and the Cart Road which circles the southern part of the town.

One interesting thing to note about the place is that it is so steep they even have passenger lifts (2-stage) to bring people up and down the hill from Cart Road to the Mall. It cost Rs 7. Walking up the steep steps is the only other alternative.

At the lower end of the town, we also noted that there were many people with prams sitting or standing at the side of the road. Supposedly, we were told, the prams are for rent to those with babies and young children. Interesting and amazing.

First we went to the Mall. Shops were found chaotically and haphazardly cascading down the steep terrain with extremely narrow walkway in between. Cables and wires could be seen hanging and dangling above our heads.

The streets were jam packed with people, both locals and tourists. Anything under the sun could be found here. To the food lovers, this is the place for you. Food is in abundance and you need not have to worry about the calories consumed. All you need to do is take the steps instead of the lift after the indulgence!

From one end of the Mall with very much the local flavour, we then proceeded to the other side of the Mall where the Municipality building is located. Here, the buildings are of colonial design. The streets are much wider and the shops are generally selling higher end goods. Overall it gives an air of the ‘old’ English.

Shimla – where the west meets east, the old blends with the new – has a unique characteristic; it exudes much beauty and charm with a romantic feel. It is no wonder that it is a popular spot for the honeymooners.

Before we left the Mall, we passed by Christ Church. It is the second oldest church in northern India. Due to the time constraint, we did not get to see the inside.

It was a pity that time did not permit us to stay longer. Otherwise I would love to explore and walk about in the woods amidst the lush green hills and the beautiful and calming meadows.

When I was planning for the trip, I came to know about the famous toy train plying between Shimla and Kalka and told our agent in India to make sure that that was part of the itinerary.

The history of the toy train dates back to the end of the 19th century. The railway track (narrow gauge) was finally completed and opened for the public in 1906.

The railway line, linking Shimla and Kalka, snakes through the rugged mountain terrain. It is 96km long and passes through 103 tunnels, 919 curves and 969 bridges. It is touted an engineering feat and often termed as a scientific fiction.

Due to the tight schedule that we had, we could only travel from Shimla to Kethlighat, a much shorter distance and would take about two hours. Though we did not have the chance to go through all the 103 tunnels, we went through no less than ten, perhaps many more. I was counting as the train went up and down the hill like a roller coaster, disappearing behind the hill, and reappearing like magic. Somewhere along the way, I lost count, perhaps distracted by the beautiful landscape, or perhaps by the unique experience.

While we were enjoying our ride on the toy train, the driver drove to Kethlighat. He would pick us up from there.

From Kethlighat, we drove to Chandigarh which is located in the state of Haryana.

As we journeyed further south, the torrid heat was getting to be almost unbearable. En route to the hotel, we stopped at the Mughal Garden for a short visit. The hot weather was just too much for us to really enjoy the walk about, though we could see many local people taking their evening stroll around.

Finally we reached the hotel. We did not have the chance to explore the city, but from the look of it, it is a relatively big city compared to those places we had visited in recent days.

The hotel is located along a row of shop houses. We found a fast food café with comfortable seating, something like Coffee Bean, few doors away. It is air-conditioned, and so we decided to have our dinner there to relax and to enjoy the cool air inside.

Early next morning, we left the hotel just past six to catch the 6.50 Shatabedi Express back to Delhi.

As the train chugged along under the hot summer sun, I fell asleep.

I felt a jerk and woke up. I opened my eyes and found that we were fast approaching Delhi railway station. It signified that our 15-day adventure in India was about to come to an end.

As I spent the last few minutes on board the train reflecting on what had taken place over the last 15 days, I could not help but to think that ‘this has been one of the most interesting and exciting trips I have ever been’.

We spent the last few hours in Delhi driving around the city, stopping by places of interest such as the Parliament House, India Gate, Lotus Temple, Qutb Minar, etc. for a quick photo shots; and walking around Sarojini market under the hot sweltering sun.

In the evening, we had dinner with Tek and Mohinder, the mysterious man who came on board our car at the roadside when we first arrived in Delhi 15 days ago, before heading for the airport.

With the door of the aircraft closed and ready to take off, my adventure in India also came to a close.

The Different Faces of the Adventure

Chin, my partner

When she is not in the lecture hall with the students and facing the white board, she is either up on the mountain trekking or under the sea diving. ‘Don’t judge the book by its cover’ aptly describes her. Her gentle but serious demeanour could hardly tell that mountains and seas are her favourite haunts and trekking shoes and diving suits are preferred to, perhaps, high heels and skirts.

Mohinder,
the manager of our tour agent

On our first night in Delhi, we ended up having a good ‘run-about’ the city all because he chose to be picked up at a pillar, no. 165 of Metro line where Tek and the driver, for some strange reasons best known to them, kept missing it.

We met him twice and only briefly. The first time was on the night we arrived and the last time was before we left for home. Perhaps, there will be opportunity for us to meet again.

Tek, the guide

On our first day of trek, while walking through the pine forest, we lost sight of him. And there was no clear trail! We shouted, ‘Tek, where are you?’ only to find him waving happily from the top of the slope and echoed, ‘I am here’!

When he was not smiling, he looked a stern and serious guide, and seemed to be a man of few words, but when he did, he is a different person all together.

Ram, the cook

Originally from Nepal but now feels very much at home in India.

He always woke up at the break of dawn before everyone else, to prepare breakfast and lunch for us. The many varieties and delicious dishes he churned out everyday added much flavour to our memorable trek.





Sangy, the assistant cook

A fine young man who was always with a smiling face, and forever so polite and courteous.

I recalled the particular time when we were crossing the snow. Much as he wanted to offer help, his hands were tight, literally – he was carrying two trays of raw eggs – our breakfast and lunch!

Jhaba Ram, the horseman

JUST MARRIED!

After helping out with some common chores, he would be seen busy taking the horses grazing.

During the five days on the trek, I knew him as a shy, reserved, quiet man. On hindsight, he could be missing his new wife and longing to be home soon.

Me

A city girl who discovered the thrill and chill of trekking rather late in life. She draws her inspiration from great mountaineers such as George Mallory, Sir Edmund Hillary and many others. She could not possibly emulate them. She can only read about them and share their tears and triumph in mind and spirit.

Our 'Porters'

Our faithful horses seen here having their last meal before heading for 'home'. Without them, there would be no tents, camping gears, food, luggage, and etc. – which means, no trekking and no camping!

Mother and Son

When I was told that the baby was on the trip so that he could be close to the mother, I realised then that the bond among the family members of the animal kingdom could be as strong, if not stronger, than that of the human being.

Map of Himachal Pradesh and the Route Travelled

To view a larger version of the map, click on the map itself