India Part 5: The Himalayas, hitching rides on farm equipment, and praying with the holiest man on earth

April 18th, 12:33

CHIANG MAI, Thailand

We were excited. After weeks of smelly, overcrowded, difficult to navigate cities, we were heading to the mountains. Clean air, fewer people...goats! And these were not just any mountains that we were headed towards, these were the mighty Himalayas, home of the Dalai Lama, the highest peak on earth and the Abominable Snowman. I was feeling especially neato, when I realized that at this time last year, I was hiking in the Patagonias. I think that I'm going to have to look pretty hard to figure out what mountain range to go to next.

We arrived in the Northern mountain city of Manali in the afternoon, and promptly tired ourselves out by walking 4km's straight up a hill to "Old" Manali, which was supposed to be a better place to stay.

It was.


Clearly I am a superb photographer










Evan is an EXTREME READER!





We found accommodation easily, and as can be seen below, the view wasn't too shabby. After eating far too much food, we took a walk around to acclimate ourselves to the place which was to be our home for an unexpected 6 days. As it was just before the tourist season began, the locals didn't quite seem to know what to do with us. No shops were open, there was nothing for anyone to try and sell us, so (gasp!) people just talked to us! Without needing anything! Remarkable!


This view doesn't suck. This picture does







Old Manali is a sleepy town, built into the side of the mountain, meaning that to go anywhere practically requires a harness and carabiners. While we huffed and puffed, the small children and elderly folk went about like there was nothing to it. It was a bit humbling.

Number 2 in "Norm's series of children in unlikely places wearing Minnesota sports team paraphenalia"










Evan gets artistic with some laundry






This dog induced the most massive guilt trip I've ever been on. After following us for 2 hours as we hiked, we had to leave him behind and the look on his face was "really? you're leaving? leaving me? oh man..."








Number 2 in Norm's series of "Photographs of women doing things I cannot"






We had heard about a waterfall that you could hike too (theoretically) so with some new friends, we set out the next morning to try and find this place. Perhaps when you or your friends decide to go to a place, you make some sort of a plan, or at least think out loud about the logistics necessary to arrive at your chosen destination. Perhaps your plan works out, perhaps it doesn't, but at least you've thought it through.

We did not so much plan a route there as stumble bass-ackwards into the route. We left late in the afternoon, since we were lazy bums and slept all morning. In asking a local how to get to the waterfall, he simply pointed into the hazy distance and said "Go there."

Thanks man, that was useful.

So we found ourselves walking alongside a river. As it is the beginning of summer, the glacial snows on top of the Himalayas are only beginning to melt, leaving the stream running, but not too heavily. We knew that we would need to cross the river at some point, but as it was strewn with boulders, it was the general consensus that it would be "no sweat." We are idiots.

















The rocky bed of the river frustrated us at every attempted crossing. Leaping rock to rock, we would get almost all the way across, and then be confronted with a 10 foot jump to dry land, over an (of course) fast rushing, deep part of the river. This went on for nearly 2 hours, keeping in mind that the hiking part didn't even start until we got across the river.

At this point, the river had split into two parts, so we would need to cross both sides to get to where we were going. Linda, who had not previously demonstrated any particularly insane behaviours, decided that she had had enough of jumping and was simply going to wade across. This would have been fine if the bottom of the river wasn't filled with, alternatively, razor sharp stones and rocks so slippery that I later tried to convince people that they were coated with Jell-O. Then there was the water itself. As we all tied our shoes together and hung them around our necks, noone felt obliged to comment on the fact that we were:

1. Way up high in the mountains
2. Already cold because it was only the end of winter
3. That the water in the river had just melted from a glacier

By the time I got to the other side, it felt like my legs were just clomping along on blocks of wood. Getting the feeling back to my feet involved slapping them so hard that the marks stayed for two days. Have you ever woken up a limb that has fallen asleep? It tingles right? Multiply that by the biggest number you can think of and that begins to approximate how much that hurt.

Of course, this only put us across one half of our problem.

After several more abortive attempts to jump across rocks, I struck upon a novel idea; hitch a ride on the tractor. We had noticed, while floundering about, that there were many local people out on the other side of the river, breaking rocks down to use in construction around town. These people would break the rocks, then hand them in a long human chain down to a boy who couldn't have been more than 14, who would hoist them up and into a trailer hooked on to a tractor.

I ran down to the tractor which was at that moment preparing to depart for the opposite shore, and after some wild hand gesticulations and broken English, I managed to secure safe passage for myself and my three hiking companions. Linda, being the smallest, rode on the trailer hitch at the back. It was about when the water got up to her ankles that she started taking deep, gasping breaths, which we couldn't really focus on as the rest of us were too busy trying to find something to hold on to, to keep from being flung sideways out of the rocking tractor. It was like being on a wild horse, with a burr under its saddle and a fire under its ass.

(please excuse the previous metaphor. Apparently Norm was channeling the spirit of a cowboy, which is weird).

Our chauffeurs







We finally made it across, and after some more adventurous type stuff, we arrived at the waterfall.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty...







After thoroughly exhausting ourselves clambering all over wet rocks, and giving the waterproofing on my boots a workout, we got ourselves back to Old Manali, hitching yet another ride on farm equipment.


"Uhh guys, the water fall is THAT way"






In a bizarre and somewhat disturbing twist of karma, after our first two days in Manali, during which I got a sunburn, the Gods of the Mountains (who I'm sure have a very impressive name that I never bothered to learn) let loose with some of the nastiest rain and cold that I've ever experienced. At many points during my travels, I have lamented the fact that I have been lugging around boots, long underwear, a hat, gloves etc. Now, as I sat comfortably in our non-heated room, cozily digging into The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Evan went on and on about how not cold he was, as he shivered beneath a light cotton shirt and jeans, refusing even to sit under a blanket to prove that "I'mmmm..mmm (chatter) really....fi-fi-fine.....m-m-man."

Sure you are, Yeah Yeah, sure you are.

We passed the next few days in Shiva Cafe, seemingly the only place in town that had a working stove.


What do you do when it's freezing out and your room doesn't have heat? Cram 4 people into two single beds and read Roald Dahl out loud to each other until everyone is sleepy.




We had been hearing about many travelers going to Dharamsala and Mcleod-Ganj to hear "the teachings" which the Dalai Lama was giving every day for 10 days. In making the decision to go, did we consider that it would be yet another hellish 12 hour ride through freezing cold mountains on dangerous roads? Did we have a thought that this was the most popular thing to do in the region at the time, and that we were getting there at 4AM with no accommodation booked, and no idea how we would stay the night? Was it ever considered that by getting even further into the mountains, we would have to rush to get back to Delhi so that we could catch our respective flights out of the country?

Of course not! No thought whatsoever! We'll just go and work it out there!

And that brilliant planning was how we found ourselves, stranded and freezing cold at 4AM on top of a mountain. The rest of our night/early morning there has already been recounted in some detail...albeit not very factual detail in this previous post. Check it out if you have not already done so.


Bright and #*!$'ing early in McLeod-Ganj









What a nice hill!






As it were, our plan was to stay in Mcleod-Ganj (city above Dharamsala) just for the day, then hop on yet another bus to get to Delhi. For those keeping count, that would make it 14 hours in a place that the travel to and from took a combined 27 hours. This may not be the best ratio to have.

However, after all of that, putting everything, the cold, the fatigue, the buses and all that aside for just a second, imagine this scene:

You are sitting in an old red plastic chair. The chair bends and twists as you move, clearly an old chair, having seen years of use. You are sitting on a rooftop, wide and flat, surrounded by tables. At nearly every table is a group of Buddhist monks. They are talking and laughing, and occasionally, one will turn towards you and give you a broad grin. The book in your hands is The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. It is a book primarily concerned with Buddhism, and written in that very particular style of his which always makes you long for the open road, a notebook and a good pen. When you pick your head up from your book, the towering peaks of the Himalayas glow brightly, the rising sun causing the snow at the top to sparkle and flash. The monk sitting at your table answers your question about Buddhism and the ensuing conversation lasts an hour. The banana pancakes that you are eating are 3 inches thick, stuffed full of fresh bananas and topped with honey.

A rooftop at sunrise in the mountains. Good company. Superlative Pancakes.


View from my pancake-eatin' seat






There are some things in life that simply make life worth living. Sitting on that rooftop, enjoying my book and my pancakes and my conversation was an experience that was so simple and so incredible that it will forever remain in my memory as "perfect."


"...oh yeah, the red REALLY brings out your eyes..."






From ESPN.com "In a move that is sure to shock the sporting world, George Steinbrenner has enlisted the aid of the Lord Buddha in a last desperate attempt to make his 250 million dollar payroll bring him a modicum of success. This move, coupled with the off season addition of Johnny Damon, aka"Jesus", is sure to make the New York Yankees a force to be reckoned with, right up until they collapse, yet again, inthe playoffs."


The rest of our day saw us running around, trying to get a pass to get into the teachings that ultimately ended up being unnecessary. In the late afternoon, we entered the temple where the Dalai Lama was to give his talk. As non-monk types, we were only allowed to see him entering and leaving, but, being the Dalai Lama, the man knows how to make an entrance.

He came from behind a gate, and walked along the corridor of seated penitents. The walkway was perhaps 10 feet wide and all of the people along it were sitting cross-legged. As he walked, he had a massive, beatific smile on his face, in sharp contrast to the hard looks of his bodyguards; fierce looking soldiers with machine guns and enormous monks, watching everything. The Dalai Lama stopped walking for a moment, and went over to a small child that was seated right at the edge. I couldn't hear the exchange, but the little boy gave the holy man a small painting or picture, which the Dalai Lama accepted, took a look at, and then reached down and smacked the little boy in the back of the head. A good natured smack mind you, but one that I could hear from over 50 feet away. He walked away chuckling to himself.

We passed the next two hours, sitting quietly with 2000 other people and listening to the gravelly deep voice of the Dalai Lama, at times speaking, at times chanting, the voices of several thousand people following along in unison. Of course, he was speaking in Nepalese, so I didn't understand a single thing that he said, but I would like to think that it was something along the lines of "all is well, live in peace...have you tried the banana pancakes?"

Reluctantly, we left Mcleod-Ganj and bussed down to Delhi, where we killed the last few days that Yeah Yeah and I had together before we went our separate ways. In all, we had covered thousands of kilometers, hiked up mountains, seen ancient temples and modern cities, met kind people and no-so kind people, and ate food that to this day I will wonder about.

India was an experience like no other, thanks Yeah Yeah.

Next: Thailand! I remember how to smile, the islands of the south, and a fortuitious reunion.