Breakfast in the dhaba. A makeshift brilliant chapatti machine attaches a gas canister to an iron dome, creating soft chewy chapattis that go perfectly with the chana – chickpeas – or sabzi – mixed vegetables, in this case green beans and potatoes.
We meet our driver, a local from a nearby village, Salapi, and he is friendly, super considerate, and has great energy. He tells us he was a former national ski champion and went to compete in China and Korea, where he failed miserably, but at least he was in front of Pakistan…
We head off to Zangla, a small village with an old fort and a Buddhist nunnery. When we arrive at the nunnery, a few of the nuns are up on the roof making their version of cheese. As far as I understand, they take curd (yogurt), add salt to it, and I think ghee as well, and then they dry it in the intensely strong Ladakhi sun. They spread the mixture with their fingers so the cheese is in strips that have the smearing of fingers left on them. We meet an elderly nun who was absolutely adorable, who said she didn’t want to be photographed because she wasn’t young and pretty anymore, but we did anyway.
Afterwards we went back on the road towards Padum and went to Stong-de Gompa. This was a gorgeous monastery set on top of the hill – the monastery locations in Zanskar are superb – and as we arrived there were lots of young monks running around. The interior of the gompa was breathtaking, with wall paintings dating back hundreds of years, with brilliant bright colors. We were invited to have lunch at the monastery and we had a great meal of rice, dal, and potatoes and aubergine. Really tasty. The youngest monks had the duty of serving the others and they came around carrying big buckets, just like at the Isha ashram, and served us.
The next morning, we headed off to Zonkhul. This monastery is not written about in Lonely Planet, and I think there are less visitors to this location that screams isolation. As we approached, we saw that the roads were blocked by large sheets of ice, which groups of workers were meticulously chipping away at. So we got out maybe about 500 m before the monastery and walked up the jutting rocks coming out of the Cliffside. There is currently one monk residing at Zonkhul. He told us there were 24 but they were in different places at the moment. Solitude. Big black birds circling overhead. We were taken to the cave where Naropa supposedly meditated. The other rooms of the monastery were gorgeous, so many beautiful Tibetan artifacts, clearly being used on a daily basis, were placed around the room. Butter lamp bowls, mandalas, drums, scrolls and scriptures…
On the way towards Karsha from Zonkhul, we stopped at our driver’s sister’s house for lunch. This was the epitome of idyllic – she had a small grove of trees behind her house, had a few dzos – cow and yak hybrid – and two beautiful children who were not shy at all. The interior of her house was clean and well-lit, with great window light. Her view was of snowcapped mountains and green fields. Our meal was phenomenal, spinach and tomato in a mustard (I think) sauce, aubergine and potato and tomato, and rice.
Karsha has the largest monastery in Zanskar, and it seems to occupy the entire Cliffside which it is precariously built upon. You go up, up, up, on windy staircases and each room and structure of the monastery structure unfolds in front of you in a labyrinthine structure. The views of the lush green fields below, beneath the snowy Himalayan giants, framed by prayer flags and prayer wheels…wow. We had a hilarious time, as we think the younger monks were sent to literally pose for us, and they did so with varying willingness and hilarity, some patiently performing tasks with 5 tourists jamming cameras in their faces, while others cracked up laughing and ran into their quarters and engaged in hide and seek with us, giggling the whole time. The monastery was simply stunning, with patches of gardens alongside the paths, with blooming purple wildflowers…
A full day of sightseeing finished, we did a quick stop at Pibiting, just 2km from Padum, and ended in Padum, where Lenny and I set off on our adventure to try to use the internet. Electricity is irregular at best in Padum, and supposedly comes on at 5pm for the entire evening but for the 3 nights we were there, it never lasted for more than an hour at a time (perhaps after midnight, but we were fast asleep…) Anyway, our internet fiasco involved 2 days of asking around for the owner to use her generator, which turned out to be broken, when she was finally located, and a whole other slew of dramas which was finally resolved our final evening when we were able to get connected for a few minutes.
What Padum and the trip to Zanskar did for me was really appreciate a lot of the things that I take for granted. Electricity; hot water; internet; access to things to do and activities; I guess what I’m trying to get as is I saw just how much my internal situation is related to my external situation. This is what I’ve been trying to work on for the past 6 months since I arrived at Isha, but this was a good reality check. On the afternoon that we got back from Stong-de, it was very windy, overcast, and chilly, and I saw just how quickly my spirits began to sank. A bit of bad weather and I get depressed and unhappy?? Doesn’t sound like internal peace and stability…anyway, it was really good to experience this. Lenny and I had great chats at night about our thoughts and feelings about our personal experiences in India and the region, in particular regarding Kashmir, and of course, Zanskar. We shared a lot of the same insight regarding both Kashmir and Zanskar, including that of the internal situations that came up for both of us in Zanskar, and I was extremely grateful to have met him and have him along with us in Zanskar. I think the way Kashmir struck a chord very deeply in me is something that may be difficult for people who haven’t seen the magical land and the disarming people to understand, and it was great to experience Zanskar together. Thank you Lenny.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
On the road to Zanskar (July 1-3)
The next morning in Mulbekh we climb up to the gompa and have stunning views of the valley. I walk down to Wakha village, passing friendly locals along the way, and in the afternoon I rest until the Ghosh’s turn up. We had decided they would spend the night in Mulbekh but the plan got changed again and we ended up going all the way to Kargil. Uneventful evening while logistics got sorted out, and the next morning, off we were!
Zanskar is known for its isolation, the less visited part of Ladakh, and it really inspires awe, loneliness, and well, makes you feel like an insignificant nothing. Not necessarily a bad thing. The journey to Padum would be broken over 2 full days of travel. The first morning we left Kargil at 7am, reaching Sankoo by 9am where we had breakfast where I had eaten on my daytrip there, and off we went. Up until about Panikhar the scenery of the Suru Valley remains similar, with green patches of land at the bottom of the valley with wide mountains spreading up, framed by snowcapped peaks. Nearing Panikhar we got some good views of the Kun mountain range. Continuing on past Parkachik, we seemed to arrive in the home of the giants, with enormous mountains, many with glaciers explosively tumbling down from them, everywhere you could see. Finally, around 2pm we arrived in the tiny village of Rangdum, where we would spend the first night.
Rangdum has 280 inhabitants, and the village is essentially at the convergence of 3 enormous valleys, and the scene is breathtaking. We set ourselves up in a homestay and after a delicious lunch I decided to head off to the monastery, Rangdum Gompa. Rangdum is considered the first place going from Kargil to Zanskar that it really becomes Buddhist territory, and from Rangdum onwards the landscape is dotted with ancient monasteries and stupas. I knew I would be pushing it for time but I figured if I didn’t go, the whole day would basically have been just spent on travel and I wanted to go explore. They told me there was no shortcut, that I should just follow the road. Well, idiot me decided it looked straightforward enough and there would just be tiny streams to hop over so I would make a straight line for the monastery rather than heed the advice of locals (like I said, idiot me).
Turns out I had to take my shoes off and wade across some pretty freezing stream areas, which is fresh snowmelt so exceedingly cold, and although the water I crossed was pretty much always below the knee, it was flowing with such ferocity that I often was getting pushed down several meters and struggling to stay standing. Oh well. I arrived at the monastery, chatted with the Muslim schoolteachers who were drinking tea with the Buddhist monks, and told them I should head back before dark. So off I went, and again had some stupid ideas to cross the plain, in a different angle this time, which ended up resulting in even more water crossing. I arrived in Rangdum village as it was getting dark and it was nice to get inside and warm up.
Dinner was fabulous momos which Remi helped to make, these Tibetan style dumplings, some filled with potato, some with spinach and onion…the next morning, we woke up as the sun was brilliantly illuminating the mountains. As is often the case in high altitude settings, I was shocked to discover that behind all those mountains that you think are the roof of the world, there was a whole other range that we couldn’t see the previous day due to clouds. Phenomenal views, and splendid solitude as the only company I had were a few dzos (a breed of cow mixed with yak, very very strange looking animal).
After our breakfast of omelette and chapatti we headed off again, towards the famed Penzi-la Pass, which reaches 14,000 feet. The scenery from Rangdum headed towards the pass simply kept getting better. Around each bend we would see a new set of snow-covered mountains, ice overflowing, blindingly white. The Penzi-la Pass is one of the most beautiful mountain passes I have ever seen, and near it we wandered around a few half-frozen lakes, reflecting the majestic mountains inside their still waters. Just after the pass, we could see the Drang Drung Glacier spilling down the land, and we also saw a large lake that was turquoise blue, as high-altitude glacial lakes often are. Brilliant.
The descent to the Zanskar Valley afterwards gave a great idea as to the scale and enormity of the place. There were still snow-capped mountains all around, and the land resembled the American Southwest canyonlands, with dry rocks of all different colors forming the sides, and patches of green agricultural land in the bottom of the valley. It’s amazing to think that there is almost no rainfall in these areas, yet they are remarkably self-sufficient; in the short growing season they successfully irrigate all the melting glaciers and snow to water their crops, and then store them to survive the long, hard winters. Amazing.
We arrived in Padum at around 3pm, got settled, and then I headed to the nearby village with a beautiful little monastery and wandered through the fields. Zanskar definitely is a different place, and you are totally aware that there have not been hordes of tourists where you are. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back here, but I’m certainly grateful for having made the trip here.
Zanskar is known for its isolation, the less visited part of Ladakh, and it really inspires awe, loneliness, and well, makes you feel like an insignificant nothing. Not necessarily a bad thing. The journey to Padum would be broken over 2 full days of travel. The first morning we left Kargil at 7am, reaching Sankoo by 9am where we had breakfast where I had eaten on my daytrip there, and off we went. Up until about Panikhar the scenery of the Suru Valley remains similar, with green patches of land at the bottom of the valley with wide mountains spreading up, framed by snowcapped peaks. Nearing Panikhar we got some good views of the Kun mountain range. Continuing on past Parkachik, we seemed to arrive in the home of the giants, with enormous mountains, many with glaciers explosively tumbling down from them, everywhere you could see. Finally, around 2pm we arrived in the tiny village of Rangdum, where we would spend the first night.
Rangdum has 280 inhabitants, and the village is essentially at the convergence of 3 enormous valleys, and the scene is breathtaking. We set ourselves up in a homestay and after a delicious lunch I decided to head off to the monastery, Rangdum Gompa. Rangdum is considered the first place going from Kargil to Zanskar that it really becomes Buddhist territory, and from Rangdum onwards the landscape is dotted with ancient monasteries and stupas. I knew I would be pushing it for time but I figured if I didn’t go, the whole day would basically have been just spent on travel and I wanted to go explore. They told me there was no shortcut, that I should just follow the road. Well, idiot me decided it looked straightforward enough and there would just be tiny streams to hop over so I would make a straight line for the monastery rather than heed the advice of locals (like I said, idiot me).
Turns out I had to take my shoes off and wade across some pretty freezing stream areas, which is fresh snowmelt so exceedingly cold, and although the water I crossed was pretty much always below the knee, it was flowing with such ferocity that I often was getting pushed down several meters and struggling to stay standing. Oh well. I arrived at the monastery, chatted with the Muslim schoolteachers who were drinking tea with the Buddhist monks, and told them I should head back before dark. So off I went, and again had some stupid ideas to cross the plain, in a different angle this time, which ended up resulting in even more water crossing. I arrived in Rangdum village as it was getting dark and it was nice to get inside and warm up.
Dinner was fabulous momos which Remi helped to make, these Tibetan style dumplings, some filled with potato, some with spinach and onion…the next morning, we woke up as the sun was brilliantly illuminating the mountains. As is often the case in high altitude settings, I was shocked to discover that behind all those mountains that you think are the roof of the world, there was a whole other range that we couldn’t see the previous day due to clouds. Phenomenal views, and splendid solitude as the only company I had were a few dzos (a breed of cow mixed with yak, very very strange looking animal).
After our breakfast of omelette and chapatti we headed off again, towards the famed Penzi-la Pass, which reaches 14,000 feet. The scenery from Rangdum headed towards the pass simply kept getting better. Around each bend we would see a new set of snow-covered mountains, ice overflowing, blindingly white. The Penzi-la Pass is one of the most beautiful mountain passes I have ever seen, and near it we wandered around a few half-frozen lakes, reflecting the majestic mountains inside their still waters. Just after the pass, we could see the Drang Drung Glacier spilling down the land, and we also saw a large lake that was turquoise blue, as high-altitude glacial lakes often are. Brilliant.
The descent to the Zanskar Valley afterwards gave a great idea as to the scale and enormity of the place. There were still snow-capped mountains all around, and the land resembled the American Southwest canyonlands, with dry rocks of all different colors forming the sides, and patches of green agricultural land in the bottom of the valley. It’s amazing to think that there is almost no rainfall in these areas, yet they are remarkably self-sufficient; in the short growing season they successfully irrigate all the melting glaciers and snow to water their crops, and then store them to survive the long, hard winters. Amazing.
We arrived in Padum at around 3pm, got settled, and then I headed to the nearby village with a beautiful little monastery and wandered through the fields. Zanskar definitely is a different place, and you are totally aware that there have not been hordes of tourists where you are. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back here, but I’m certainly grateful for having made the trip here.
Monday, July 5, 2010
On the road to Zanskar (July 1-3)
The next morning in Mulbekh we climb up to the gompa and have stunning views of the valley. I walk down to Wakha village, passing friendly locals along the way, and in the afternoon I rest until the Ghosh’s turn up. We had decided they would spend the night in Mulbekh but the plan got changed again and we ended up going all the way to Kargil. Uneventful evening while logistics got sorted out, and the next morning, off we were!
Zanskar is known for its isolation, the less visited part of Ladakh, and it really inspires awe, loneliness, and well, makes you feel like an insignificant nothing. Not necessarily a bad thing. The journey to Padum would be broken over 2 full days of travel. The first morning we left Kargil at 7am, reaching Sankoo by 9am where we had breakfast where I had eaten on my daytrip there, and off we went. Up until about Panikhar the scenery of the Suru Valley remains similar, with green patches of land at the bottom of the valley with wide mountains spreading up, framed by snowcapped peaks. Nearing Panikhar we got some good views of the Kun mountain range. Continuing on past Parkachik, we seemed to arrive in the home of the giants, with enormous mountains, many with glaciers explosively tumbling down from them, everywhere you could see. Finally, around 2pm we arrived in the tiny village of Rangdum, where we would spend the first night.
Rangdum has 280 inhabitants, and the village is essentially at the convergence of 3 enormous valleys, and the scene is breathtaking. We set ourselves up in a homestay and after a delicious lunch I decided to head off to the monastery, Rangdum Gompa. Rangdum is considered the first place going from Kargil to Zanskar that it really becomes Buddhist territory, and from Rangdum onwards the landscape is dotted with ancient monasteries and stupas. I knew I would be pushing it for time but I figured if I didn’t go, the whole day would basically have been just spent on travel and I wanted to go explore. They told me there was no shortcut, that I should just follow the road. Well, idiot me decided it looked straightforward enough and there would just be tiny streams to hop over so I would make a straight line for the monastery rather than heed the advice of locals (like I said, idiot me).
Turns out I had to take my shoes off and wade across some pretty freezing stream areas, which is fresh snowmelt so exceedingly cold, and although the water I crossed was pretty much always below the knee, it was flowing with such ferocity that I often was getting pushed down several meters and struggling to stay standing. Oh well. I arrived at the monastery, chatted with the Muslim schoolteachers who were drinking tea with the Buddhist monks, and told them I should head back before dark. So off I went, and again had some stupid ideas to cross the plain, in a different angle this time, which ended up resulting in even more water crossing. I arrived in Rangdum village as it was getting dark and it was nice to get inside and warm up.
Dinner was fabulous momos which Remi helped to make, these Tibetan style dumplings, some filled with potato, some with spinach and onion…the next morning, we woke up as the sun was brilliantly illuminating the mountains. As is often the case in high altitude settings, I was shocked to discover that behind all those mountains that you think are the roof of the world, there was a whole other range that we couldn’t see the previous day due to clouds. Phenomenal views, and splendid solitude as the only company I had were a few dzos (a breed of cow mixed with yak, very very strange looking animal).
After our breakfast of omelette and chapatti we headed off again, towards the famed Penzi-la Pass, which reaches 14,000 feet. The scenery from Rangdum headed towards the pass simply kept getting better. Around each bend we would see a new set of snow-covered mountains, ice overflowing, blindingly white. The Penzi-la Pass is one of the most beautiful mountain passes I have ever seen, and near it we wandered around a few half-frozen lakes, reflecting the majestic mountains inside their still waters. Just after the pass, we could see the Drang Drung Glacier spilling down the land, and we also saw a large lake that was turquoise blue, as high-altitude glacial lakes often are. Brilliant.
The descent to the Zanskar Valley afterwards gave a great idea as to the scale and enormity of the place. There were still snow-capped mountains all around, and the land resembled the American Southwest canyonlands, with dry rocks of all different colors forming the sides, and patches of green agricultural land in the bottom of the valley. It’s amazing to think that there is almost no rainfall in these areas, yet they are remarkably self-sufficient; in the short growing season they successfully irrigate all the melting glaciers and snow to water their crops, and then store them to survive the long, hard winters. Amazing.
We arrived in Padum at around 3pm, got settled, and then I headed to the nearby village with a beautiful little monastery and wandered through the fields. Zanskar definitely is a different place, and you are totally aware that there have not been hordes of tourists where you are. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back here, but I’m certainly grateful for having made the trip here.
Zanskar is known for its isolation, the less visited part of Ladakh, and it really inspires awe, loneliness, and well, makes you feel like an insignificant nothing. Not necessarily a bad thing. The journey to Padum would be broken over 2 full days of travel. The first morning we left Kargil at 7am, reaching Sankoo by 9am where we had breakfast where I had eaten on my daytrip there, and off we went. Up until about Panikhar the scenery of the Suru Valley remains similar, with green patches of land at the bottom of the valley with wide mountains spreading up, framed by snowcapped peaks. Nearing Panikhar we got some good views of the Kun mountain range. Continuing on past Parkachik, we seemed to arrive in the home of the giants, with enormous mountains, many with glaciers explosively tumbling down from them, everywhere you could see. Finally, around 2pm we arrived in the tiny village of Rangdum, where we would spend the first night.
Rangdum has 280 inhabitants, and the village is essentially at the convergence of 3 enormous valleys, and the scene is breathtaking. We set ourselves up in a homestay and after a delicious lunch I decided to head off to the monastery, Rangdum Gompa. Rangdum is considered the first place going from Kargil to Zanskar that it really becomes Buddhist territory, and from Rangdum onwards the landscape is dotted with ancient monasteries and stupas. I knew I would be pushing it for time but I figured if I didn’t go, the whole day would basically have been just spent on travel and I wanted to go explore. They told me there was no shortcut, that I should just follow the road. Well, idiot me decided it looked straightforward enough and there would just be tiny streams to hop over so I would make a straight line for the monastery rather than heed the advice of locals (like I said, idiot me).
Turns out I had to take my shoes off and wade across some pretty freezing stream areas, which is fresh snowmelt so exceedingly cold, and although the water I crossed was pretty much always below the knee, it was flowing with such ferocity that I often was getting pushed down several meters and struggling to stay standing. Oh well. I arrived at the monastery, chatted with the Muslim schoolteachers who were drinking tea with the Buddhist monks, and told them I should head back before dark. So off I went, and again had some stupid ideas to cross the plain, in a different angle this time, which ended up resulting in even more water crossing. I arrived in Rangdum village as it was getting dark and it was nice to get inside and warm up.
Dinner was fabulous momos which Remi helped to make, these Tibetan style dumplings, some filled with potato, some with spinach and onion…the next morning, we woke up as the sun was brilliantly illuminating the mountains. As is often the case in high altitude settings, I was shocked to discover that behind all those mountains that you think are the roof of the world, there was a whole other range that we couldn’t see the previous day due to clouds. Phenomenal views, and splendid solitude as the only company I had were a few dzos (a breed of cow mixed with yak, very very strange looking animal).
After our breakfast of omelette and chapatti we headed off again, towards the famed Penzi-la Pass, which reaches 14,000 feet. The scenery from Rangdum headed towards the pass simply kept getting better. Around each bend we would see a new set of snow-covered mountains, ice overflowing, blindingly white. The Penzi-la Pass is one of the most beautiful mountain passes I have ever seen, and near it we wandered around a few half-frozen lakes, reflecting the majestic mountains inside their still waters. Just after the pass, we could see the Drang Drung Glacier spilling down the land, and we also saw a large lake that was turquoise blue, as high-altitude glacial lakes often are. Brilliant.
The descent to the Zanskar Valley afterwards gave a great idea as to the scale and enormity of the place. There were still snow-capped mountains all around, and the land resembled the American Southwest canyonlands, with dry rocks of all different colors forming the sides, and patches of green agricultural land in the bottom of the valley. It’s amazing to think that there is almost no rainfall in these areas, yet they are remarkably self-sufficient; in the short growing season they successfully irrigate all the melting glaciers and snow to water their crops, and then store them to survive the long, hard winters. Amazing.
We arrived in Padum at around 3pm, got settled, and then I headed to the nearby village with a beautiful little monastery and wandered through the fields. Zanskar definitely is a different place, and you are totally aware that there have not been hordes of tourists where you are. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back here, but I’m certainly grateful for having made the trip here.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Mulbekh (June 30)
Mulbekh is about 2 hours by bus from Kargil. I ended up on a bus that was going to Shargol, which meant that I would be dropped off at the turnoff 9km before Mulbekh. Ok. Sure. Hitchhiking in India is certainly not what I envisioned, considering the status of women in most of India, but here I was. In less than 20 minutes a Sikh man with a HUGE smile (see? What did I tell you about Sikhs??) stopped and helped me lift my bags in. He offered to take me all the way to Leh but I said I wanted to stay in Mulbekh and he said ok no problem. So I was dropped off right in front of Karzoo Guesthouse – which is directly below Mulbekh Gompa. These two Gompas are built on top of a cliff, that seems absolutely impossible to climb.
I meet the lovely family in the guesthouse, tell them I’m hungry, they say wait 30 minutes, and so I say ok and that I’ll go wander around for a few minutes. Which is when I run into Lennie. Total crazy coincidence, on a rainy day in Bharmour when Tashi and I were headed to our dhaba I ran into Lennie on the street with a German couple; they had just arrived and were looking for a place to stay so we gave them a few tips. Anyway, here he is again. He is headed to Shargol Gompa, and I say I would love to go if he doesn’t mind waiting for me to eat first. He agrees, and I head back up.
This guesthouse is like staying in some old-style Tibetan building (I guess it’s also considered Ladakhi, but my reference is Tibetan, apologies…) I have been put in the family room, I think, or guest dining room, which has beautiful Tibetan paintings on the walls, the beams, the carpets are colorful with dragons and Tibetan designs, and there are 5 low tables, perfect height for me to type on ; ) , all painted with that deep Tibetan red. It is a slice of heaven.
So is breakfast – 5 chapattis – 5!!!, an omelette, sautéed spinach and onions in a bit of soy sauce, and perfectly sweetened and milked chai. Yum. So totally refreshed and rejuvenated, I am finishing up my meal when I head Lennie coming up the path, saying there is a ride waiting for us. I gather my things and sprint down to the road, and I jump in the truck…which is driven by an elderly Sikh (again!) man with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. They are from Jammu, and not with approval when I tell them I had recently climbed Vaishno Devi. They asked if I went by horse, and when I said I had walked the whole way, I received more nods of approval. They’re so funny.
We got dropped off near the turnoff to Shargol, and off we went down the dusty path. The climb up to Shargol Gompa looks much more treacherous before you’re on it, and we reach the top quickly. It’s locked, but the views are stupendous. We slowly work our way down and decide to wander through villages until we reach Mulbekh. Thus our adventure through tiny villages and fields where wildflowers burst open and little streams and curious children began. A few hours later we make it to Mulbekh and relax into the quiet that envelops this tiny village.
I meet the lovely family in the guesthouse, tell them I’m hungry, they say wait 30 minutes, and so I say ok and that I’ll go wander around for a few minutes. Which is when I run into Lennie. Total crazy coincidence, on a rainy day in Bharmour when Tashi and I were headed to our dhaba I ran into Lennie on the street with a German couple; they had just arrived and were looking for a place to stay so we gave them a few tips. Anyway, here he is again. He is headed to Shargol Gompa, and I say I would love to go if he doesn’t mind waiting for me to eat first. He agrees, and I head back up.
This guesthouse is like staying in some old-style Tibetan building (I guess it’s also considered Ladakhi, but my reference is Tibetan, apologies…) I have been put in the family room, I think, or guest dining room, which has beautiful Tibetan paintings on the walls, the beams, the carpets are colorful with dragons and Tibetan designs, and there are 5 low tables, perfect height for me to type on ; ) , all painted with that deep Tibetan red. It is a slice of heaven.
So is breakfast – 5 chapattis – 5!!!, an omelette, sautéed spinach and onions in a bit of soy sauce, and perfectly sweetened and milked chai. Yum. So totally refreshed and rejuvenated, I am finishing up my meal when I head Lennie coming up the path, saying there is a ride waiting for us. I gather my things and sprint down to the road, and I jump in the truck…which is driven by an elderly Sikh (again!) man with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. They are from Jammu, and not with approval when I tell them I had recently climbed Vaishno Devi. They asked if I went by horse, and when I said I had walked the whole way, I received more nods of approval. They’re so funny.
We got dropped off near the turnoff to Shargol, and off we went down the dusty path. The climb up to Shargol Gompa looks much more treacherous before you’re on it, and we reach the top quickly. It’s locked, but the views are stupendous. We slowly work our way down and decide to wander through villages until we reach Mulbekh. Thus our adventure through tiny villages and fields where wildflowers burst open and little streams and curious children began. A few hours later we make it to Mulbekh and relax into the quiet that envelops this tiny village.
Sanku/Sankoo/Sanko (June 29)
Sanku/Sankoo/Sanko – you can see it spelled any of these ways, and there are probably even more ways to spell it, like many many places and things in India. 42 km from Kargil, on a bumpy two hour bus ride, I arrived in this village. First thing – breakfast. WOW delicious bread. Soft and doughy on the inside, crunchy on the outside, dipped in a really flavorful carrot, potato, and cabbage sabji…20 rupees. Yes please.
The main attraction for people visiting here, considered the start of the Suru Valley, and the gateway to Zanskar, is the Chamba Buddha. Located a 5km walk from the village, this 7m tall statue is said to have been there for more than 1000 years. The walk is easy, mostly flat on a paved road which winds through schools, fields full of wheat, barley, and bursting with wildflowers. Like in the California desert, it seems that flowers that manage to survive in unsympathetic climates are even more explosive than their tame counterparts who have it easy in supportive environments. Chinga-tus-ojos pinks, purples, fuchsia, magenta, yellow, white, forming multi-story carpets alongside the healthiest green crops you have ever seen. The Suru River flows powerfully and majestically beneath and alongside all of this. The mountains are arid here, and as in other high-altitude dry landscapes, the rock is a splash of rainbow colors, the greens, purples, ochres, and reds blending together like a divine watercolor.
I got some time to sit on a rock on the side of the river and read, and just be in silence which was absolutely precious. Kashmir was intense, full of joy and love but also full of tragedy and sadness, and it was good to just let all the things flow through me. In the evening I headed back to Kargil and made the next plan of attack – Mulbekh.
The main attraction for people visiting here, considered the start of the Suru Valley, and the gateway to Zanskar, is the Chamba Buddha. Located a 5km walk from the village, this 7m tall statue is said to have been there for more than 1000 years. The walk is easy, mostly flat on a paved road which winds through schools, fields full of wheat, barley, and bursting with wildflowers. Like in the California desert, it seems that flowers that manage to survive in unsympathetic climates are even more explosive than their tame counterparts who have it easy in supportive environments. Chinga-tus-ojos pinks, purples, fuchsia, magenta, yellow, white, forming multi-story carpets alongside the healthiest green crops you have ever seen. The Suru River flows powerfully and majestically beneath and alongside all of this. The mountains are arid here, and as in other high-altitude dry landscapes, the rock is a splash of rainbow colors, the greens, purples, ochres, and reds blending together like a divine watercolor.
I got some time to sit on a rock on the side of the river and read, and just be in silence which was absolutely precious. Kashmir was intense, full of joy and love but also full of tragedy and sadness, and it was good to just let all the things flow through me. In the evening I headed back to Kargil and made the next plan of attack – Mulbekh.
Sonmarg to Kargil – via Baltal (June 28)
The next morning I bid farewell to Papa-ji and I was off in a sumo to Baltal. At the police checkpoint at the entry, the military asked sternly (I think I understood the Hindi, just by the cognates and tone…) – if there were any pilgrims. Driver said no, only locals (Wow, I really do pass for Ladakhi huh?) and off we went. But there was another police checkpoint, and this time they spotted me and questioned me, and said no, I couldn’t climb. So I sighed and the super kind driver said wait a bit and we would go back to Sonmarg. So just over an hour after I left Sonmarg, back I was with Papa-ji who told me I should stick with my sumo driver who would help me find a ride to Kargil. There was yet again another strike and no government buses would be going from Srinagar to Kargil. Sigh.
My lovely driver secured me a ride with an Indian family and off I was. This ride is beyond words. At times you are literally bisecting glaciers, with ice above you and below you, the melting water flowing strong beneath your wheels; there are herds of sheep and goat traversing endless snow and ice; the mountaintops seem to encircle you from every angle and you realize just how small you are. This is one of the most beautiful road journeys I have ever done in my life, if not the most. Wow.
We made a few photo stops along the way, but before 3pm I was in Kargil. I made my way to the Sikh Punjabi hotel (yes, there is a trend here, I have no idea how/why it got started but I’ve decided, and so far I haven’t been failed, that Sikhs are sort of the noble caring protective figures in India, for me at least). Kargil is, um, noisy and unattractive. But wow, Ladakhi people. It’s like, what on earth happened to the genetic mixtures of ethnicities to produce the people here? I don’t mean this in any negative way, but the features of these people mix such contrasting ethnic traits that it really epitomizes the melting pot that is India. You can see distinct features of Muslims, appearing like Kashmiris or even further west, perhaps Pakistanis or Central Asian nations, combined with the Mongoloid Tibetan, Mongolian, and perhaps even Chinese influence, and then throw in a splash of Hindu Indian blood…it’s quite striking. Within a block of people you can see almost every nose, hair, eye, cheekbone, and jawline feature you can imagine.
The rest of the afternoon I managed to escape Kargil town in both directions and wander through gorgeous farmland and small villages where very friendly people came to greet me. I was pretty exhausted from the almost continuous consecutive days of travel on bumpy roads, combined with high altitude walks, so passed out early.
My lovely driver secured me a ride with an Indian family and off I was. This ride is beyond words. At times you are literally bisecting glaciers, with ice above you and below you, the melting water flowing strong beneath your wheels; there are herds of sheep and goat traversing endless snow and ice; the mountaintops seem to encircle you from every angle and you realize just how small you are. This is one of the most beautiful road journeys I have ever done in my life, if not the most. Wow.
We made a few photo stops along the way, but before 3pm I was in Kargil. I made my way to the Sikh Punjabi hotel (yes, there is a trend here, I have no idea how/why it got started but I’ve decided, and so far I haven’t been failed, that Sikhs are sort of the noble caring protective figures in India, for me at least). Kargil is, um, noisy and unattractive. But wow, Ladakhi people. It’s like, what on earth happened to the genetic mixtures of ethnicities to produce the people here? I don’t mean this in any negative way, but the features of these people mix such contrasting ethnic traits that it really epitomizes the melting pot that is India. You can see distinct features of Muslims, appearing like Kashmiris or even further west, perhaps Pakistanis or Central Asian nations, combined with the Mongoloid Tibetan, Mongolian, and perhaps even Chinese influence, and then throw in a splash of Hindu Indian blood…it’s quite striking. Within a block of people you can see almost every nose, hair, eye, cheekbone, and jawline feature you can imagine.
The rest of the afternoon I managed to escape Kargil town in both directions and wander through gorgeous farmland and small villages where very friendly people came to greet me. I was pretty exhausted from the almost continuous consecutive days of travel on bumpy roads, combined with high altitude walks, so passed out early.
Sonmarg (June 27)
The ride to Sonmarg (or Sonamarg, I’ve seen both) – is ridiculously beautiful. I’ll stop talking about Kashmiri scenery since no words are sufficient. I switched sumos in Kangan, waited less than 5 minutes, and arrived at around 12.30pm at the strip settlement that is Sonmarg.
Thomas had recommended the Sikh Punjabi hotel, and what do you know, it was bang smack in front of me. Checked in and after scarfing down some delicious rajma I was on my way. Papa-ji instructed me to return well before dark. Thajjwas Glacier is only 5km walk from the town. Many Indians ride ponies there, and there is also an alternative paved road which cars can take, but somehow (I think Tashi and Krishnan are rubbing off on me) I ended up on a teensy bit perilous mountainside ‘shortcut’. Breathtaking views, though, and not a single other tourist, just occasionally passing shepherds and a few women chopping wood. The beauty of Kashmir exists here as well, the explosive neon green grass, the endless shades of browns and greens, with the fast-moving clouds hovering over the snow-capped peaks. Approaching the glacier, you see the frozen river that seems so solid and permanent, yet we know that it is moving, ever so slowly, every day, continuously. I decided to head up the glacier a bit, and then my overwhelming fear of heights, combined with ice, and rocks, overtook me for awhile. But the Kashmiri men chuckled and cheered me on and soon I was standing on the ever-frozen river.
I wandered back slowly to town, and the rest of the afternoon was spent inquiring and receiving dozens of different answers about bus times to Kargil, Baltal, whether or not sumos existed to the destinations, if I would be allowed to climb Amarnath etc etc. Information seems to be endlessly inconsistent and my strategy is just to ask as many people as possible and figure out what the majority says…and it seems to have worked decently so far. I was told by everybody that I would not be allowed to climb Amarnath since the military wasn’t fully arming (protecting – this is all debatable terminology as we have to wonder why they are there in the first place and why there is the possibility of danger/attack in the first place…) the yatra – pilgrimage – until July 1st. But for some reason this Shiva linga which gets encrusted with ice had been calling to me since I first read about it in May. So…I wanted to try anyway.
Thomas had recommended the Sikh Punjabi hotel, and what do you know, it was bang smack in front of me. Checked in and after scarfing down some delicious rajma I was on my way. Papa-ji instructed me to return well before dark. Thajjwas Glacier is only 5km walk from the town. Many Indians ride ponies there, and there is also an alternative paved road which cars can take, but somehow (I think Tashi and Krishnan are rubbing off on me) I ended up on a teensy bit perilous mountainside ‘shortcut’. Breathtaking views, though, and not a single other tourist, just occasionally passing shepherds and a few women chopping wood. The beauty of Kashmir exists here as well, the explosive neon green grass, the endless shades of browns and greens, with the fast-moving clouds hovering over the snow-capped peaks. Approaching the glacier, you see the frozen river that seems so solid and permanent, yet we know that it is moving, ever so slowly, every day, continuously. I decided to head up the glacier a bit, and then my overwhelming fear of heights, combined with ice, and rocks, overtook me for awhile. But the Kashmiri men chuckled and cheered me on and soon I was standing on the ever-frozen river.
I wandered back slowly to town, and the rest of the afternoon was spent inquiring and receiving dozens of different answers about bus times to Kargil, Baltal, whether or not sumos existed to the destinations, if I would be allowed to climb Amarnath etc etc. Information seems to be endlessly inconsistent and my strategy is just to ask as many people as possible and figure out what the majority says…and it seems to have worked decently so far. I was told by everybody that I would not be allowed to climb Amarnath since the military wasn’t fully arming (protecting – this is all debatable terminology as we have to wonder why they are there in the first place and why there is the possibility of danger/attack in the first place…) the yatra – pilgrimage – until July 1st. But for some reason this Shiva linga which gets encrusted with ice had been calling to me since I first read about it in May. So…I wanted to try anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)