High, In The Mountains

After a long night out with Anne in Rishikesh, and after only a couple of hours sleep, I got up well before sparrow’s fart to catch my early rattlebus. I’m on my way to Gangotri, one of the Chota Char Dham, the four mountain pilgrimage sites. Gangotri’s a place I’ve wanted to visit for decades, and now, finally, I’m doing it.

I can't tell you how good it is to do things you've always wanted to do.

But you know that already.

The bus left super early (5.30am) because it‘s a long, steep and windy 12 hour trip, the last parts of which you really wouldn't wanna drive in the dark.

The donkeys were already working as I walked up to the main road to catch an autorickshaw to the bus station, hoping I wouldn’t get mobbed by wild dogs on the way. I’d heard them barking furiously from my room during the night, and remember feeling very lucky that they were out there, and I was in my warm bed. But the many dogs I saw as I walked in the dark and the cold early morning pretty much left me alone.

It took ages for the bus to get moving. I’d booked a window seat, but some women asked me to switch because of “a vomiting issue.” So I had to be content with an aisle seat, and not as great views.

We left town and started climbing immediately, which we basically did for the next twelve hours. It was a beautiful sunrise, and the mountain views were stunning all day.

My legs weren’t happy though, with my knees pounding and bruising against sharp bits on the seat in front of me.

One day when I’m a bio engineer I’m gonna invent a way to unscrew legs at the knees and thighs, so tall people can just pop them up in the luggage racks with their carry bags, and sit totally comfortably on Asian and South American buses.

One day soon I'm also gonna get someone to patch up my jeans, to add to the patches Milena lovingly made for me almost a year ago now.

Terraced farming all the way up

Pissstop

Chai stop

Our bus. The road was really bad in places.

We stopped for an hour and a half in Uttarkashi. It was great to walk around and check the place out.

Aloo paratha and sambal (potato bread and curry)

The kitchen where that came from

Strolling through the shopping district

More School Uniforms of the World entries

Portable repair machinery. The bike worked.

Thank Saraswati for the Drawing Department

Modern India

I bought a newspaper at a stall, The Times of India, in English. They still exist.

Some of the news in the articles was seriously dodgy

Rs 15 (15 rupees) is the equivalent of about 30c.

As we got higher and higher the mountains and rivers got more and more beautiful.

Finally we arrived at Gangotri, at an elevation of about 3,500m, and I was immediately accosted by a man offering me a room for only Rs 300 (about $6). So cheap.

That’s because it was a dive.

But I took it anyway, despite the fact that the temperature was about 5 degrees and it had no heating or hot water. I don’t really know what I was thinking.

Told you it was a dive.

The nice view from my balcony

The view off to the side. Go figure.

So I put on every single warm item of clothing I own and headed out to explore the one long main street of the temple village of Gangotri.

Gangotri is a very sacred place, as it’s close to the source of one of the most sacred rivers in India, the Ganga (Ganges).

There’s a very special temple here, and you can hike even further up the valley, right to the glacier, Gaumukh, which is regarded as the actual source of the holy Ganga.

Gaumukh, the glacier, used to be right at the town of Gangotri, by the temple. But because of global heating it’s receded rapidly, and is now 23km away.

Unbelievable, but sadly true.

The main drag at night.

A hot lemon ginger and some tucker, and off I went to bed, still wearing pretty much everything.

Back On The Trail

It’s been a while since I’ve done any hiking. I mean, since I left my bike in Vientiane I’ve walked loads pretty much every day (except when I was sick). But I’m talking about trekking in the bush, with a pack on.

I came up here to hike to Gaumukh, or at least as close as I can get, to spend some time at the source of the Ganga, in a stunningly beautiful place.

As usual in India, there’s bureaucracy involved. I was unable to trek to Gaumukh alone due to state government regulations, so I needed to find a guide, even though I’d heard the track was fine, and you couldn’t really get lost. A local guy, Samir, a guide, had already told me this the night before, but I didn’t necessarily believe him. Unfortunately some Indians blatantly lie to get your business, and I needed to check it out for myself.

After a light samosa and vada brekky, Samir found me, and I hired him. I had to register at the Forestry Department office before we left, and even had to have a medical because I’m now 60. My medical consisted of me paying 300 rupees to have a chat to a couple of guys about the cricket.

Somewhere in the conversation the medical guy asked me if my “parametrics” were ok, I said yeah I’m fit, he said good, and signed the form without hesitation. His stethoscope and blood pressure measuring kit remained on the desk, untouched. I wished him luck for his team at the cricket World Cup, which is currently being played here.

Eventually I was ready to leave. I told Samir I could meet him somewhere soon so he could get his bag and get himself ready, etc, he just wobbled his head and said, “no, no problem, we go.” So that’s that. He was ready to come on a 2 day hike into the freezing mountains with absolutely nothing, not even a water bottle. The only thing he carried on the whole trip was a packet of bidis, small local cigarettes.

Well there ya go.

So, off we went, out of the village.

The scenery was magnificent, right from the get go.

We immediately climbed, eventually working our way to the National Park checkpost. There I paid my park entry fee, and had to pay a Rs 500 deposit to ensure that I take all my rubbish out with me. Great idea, but the thing is, as I suspected, on the way in or the way out there were no checks of my bags whatsoever, and I was given my deposit back automatically. Go figure.

The track gently climbed the whole day, and it was a well made path, with only short sections of rock hopping.

I quickly understood why Samir didn’t need a water bottle. The side streams of icy cold pure fresh water came regularly, and we guzzled as we went.

The higher we got, the more amazing the views became. I took a million pics, but I’ll only show you thousands.

Bidi stop

Winter’s just around the corner

Local guys, with their donkeys, lugging things in for the pilgrims

Samir was such a lovely, warm, helpful and unassuming guide. He didn’t smile much, he didn’t need to.

Chirbasa, our lunch stop. Aloo paratha and dhal, and masala chai of course. The Indian pilgrims I met were amazingly friendly. There weren’t any other Westerners there - well not that I saw anyway - although I saw a couple walk in when I walked out.

Enlightenment ray, searching.

It didn't find me.

The Om symbol, the ubiquitous Sanskrit symbol and chant.

A herd of bharal, blue mountain goats, endemic to the area. Sorry for the bad pic, they were a little far away.

Bhojbasa camp, our stop for the night.

My shared room

I dropped my pack off, and we both headed further up the hill, towards Gaumukh, the glacier. It was really cold, the clouds came in, and it began to snow. The views weren’t great.

We didn’t make it to the actual glacier because the weather made it impossible to climb the boulders on the side of the river we were on, but we could see it in the distance. Our altitude where we finally stopped was about 4,500m.

A guy I met later, Jatinder, did make it to the glacier during a nice clear weather patch a couple of days before, and had crossed the river in a trolley downstream to make it easier to get there. I wish I’d known that was possible.

Jatinder’s pic of the glacier

When we got as far as we could I went down to the river and did some little pujas for my friends and family, for the important people in my life. And yes, in true pilgrim style, I splashed in, had a dip, for approximately one microsecond, maybe two. It was an important thing for me to do, a ritual cleansing of the past, in a very sacred place.

And I thought I was cold before that.

We raced back to camp, into the wind and very light snow. I was a complete frozen icyPole the whole time. And the great thing is, I’d left some warm clothes (including my thermals) in my pack in our shared room before I went to the glacier, but in the meantime my two roommates had gone off somewhere with our room padlock key! Great idea guys!

So I sat here and froze to death (almost).

I couldn’t think straight, I think I got concussion from my whole body and head shaking so much.

It was lightly snowing.

Then I came in here, had some food, and warmed up slightly..

I chatted with a bunch of University students around their small fire for awhile. They were so friendly. But there was no room really, and I quickly tired of sitting out in the snow.

Finally the other guys came back with the key. What were they thinking? I disappeared into my room, put my thermals and everything else on, dived under the mountain of blankets that they had in there, and actually warmed up.

I was in there, horizontal, for nearly 12 hours. I was trashed, both by the extremely long hike, and by the extremely cold cold.

Well, extreme for me, after Southeast Asia.

Back To The Village

It was blissfully easy walking back to Gangotri. It was a clear day, which became warm eventually, once the sun appeared over the tall mountains. And the trail was pretty much all downhill.

Morning view outside my door

My shared room

There was a light dump of snow during the afternoon and night, it made everything even more beautiful

You’re thanking me?

Chai/brekky spot. My brekky was what they call magi, which is basically curry flavoured 2 minute noodles (Maggi brand).

I don’t have hiking boots with me. My feet were super sore after the hike, they got bruised on all the rocks.

Bear shit. Himalayan brown bears live in this area, and I’m glad we didn’t run into this guy. They’re big, and they’re omnivorous - large mammals like me are fair game. Also, they’re just about to go into hibernation at this time of year, so are very busy fattening up. I guess eating me wouldn’t really help them much with that.

From the web. In the past I've seen local people in this region with horrible scars from bear attacks, so I know it's a real thing.

A temple below the National Park checkpost - not too far to town now.

More Freezing

I went to the main temple a couple of times while I was in the village, one time having another splash puja in the river - not a full bathe. Once is enough.

Bathing ghats. A ghat is a series of steps leading down to a river, in auspicious places, where pilgrims go to bathe.

3D art

Labourers breaking rocks by hand (and back)

Downtown

The temple at night

Hanuman, Sai Baba, and a good old-fashioned lingam

I met a lovely Indian guy, Jatinder, who’s actually been living in Norwood in Adelaide for the past few decades. It was really nice to connect with him. We visited the temple together, shared a meal, and chatted about India, his home country.

Back To Rishi

Jatinder and I had a chai before the early morning bus left, and he noticed some guys heading for the bus with large kettles of steaming water.

The bus’s radiator coolant had frozen, so we weren’t going anywhere.

Countless hot water pours proved ineffective, so the next best thing to do was to push-start the bus.

It worked!

This time I didn’t need to give up my window seat, (at least for most of the trip), and so I had much better views.

Brekky. Samosas swimming in chole, a spicy Punjabi dish made from chickpeas. With a bit of curd. Delicious!

These women got off the bus all dressed up. There was a wedding up the hill.

I found myself watching this elegant hand for ages. For some reason it fascinated me.

Need Money Not Friends. I get it.

Ahhh, Rishi

After that long bus ride my legs needed some movement, and I was pretty famished.

Rickshawing back to my guesthouse.

I went out for food, and then crashed fairly early. I was trashed.

Laneway alongside my guesthouse

Dada Thali, a little eating place with a view of the river. Hari Son and I had lunch there the next day, and chatted deep.

Construction site. Unbelievably, right next door to this new hotel construction site was a deep hole/quarry, and 2 guys were hard at work in there, one with a jackhammer, breaking up huge rocks and gravel. The builders regularly dropped this trolley down on a cable, and the guys below filled it up with soil/rocks, and it was then hoisted back up. Incredibly slow, and incredibly hard work.

After brunch I went strolling on my own, one of my favourite things to do.

There’s loads of temples and lots of art around Rishikesh.

Again, I crossed Ram Jhula, but this time turned left, and headed upstream, wanting to revisit the district I stayed in when I was last in Rishikesh in the 90s, the area of Laxman Jhula.

See Anything? Part 1.

Beautiful Ganga bathing spot

It’s remarkably quiet between Laxman Jhula and Ram Jhula. There’s lots of ashrams and holy places, and, because the Laxman Jhula pedestrian bridge is currently closed, the area is so peaceful and serene.

I wouldn’t say that putting myself last is my life strategy these days. For me, following what I perceive as my own true path is the best thing for me to do, and ultimately that’s gonna be good for everyone else. But this only works for me if it’s accompanied by a realisation that we’re all connected anyway. A genuine concern and love for others is a prerequisite.

Otherwise the world would be full of Donald Trumps.

Imagine that.

See Anything? Part 2.

Cashing in on the Beatles thing

This, my friends, is apple strudel. Apple strudel! The apple was great, the pastry wasn’t. I ate it in a beautiful little café overlooking the Ganga.

Yes, they're inflatable rafts on the river. A new tourist thing, mainly full of young Indian tourists.

And look what else I found there! Great to play a steel stringed guitar for a change.

I met some super nice people. German Fabi and Spanish Lola have been living in Laxman Jhula for some time, as has American Grace, who was amazing, of course. We chatted for awhile, I sang for a bit, I sat and wrote, and we all whiled away the afternoon.

Quite a nice thing to do, as I’ve been rather on the move lately, since my friends left.

Beautiful Ganga view from the café

A yogi doing the deed below us, getting high as the sun gets low

Another ashram entrance

The quiet dead end streets of Laxman Jhula

Trayambakeshwar, an ancient temple right on the river. Beautiful music and chanting happens here every dusk

Although I guess it’d be quite an auspicious place to drawn

Quiet forest track to what’s known as Goa Beach, another spot to bathe along the banks of the Ganga.

After-school playground. Just after I took this pic, a guy on a motorbike sped along this narrow laneway ridiculously fast, quite close to the kids. One inadvertent unpredictable kid-move and they would’ve been immediately thrust into their next life. Hard to watch that sort of thing happening.

The previous night I’d seen this UFO

Today it became an IFO.

Bustling laneway near Ram Jhula, with many people on their way to the daily dusk tribute to the Ganga, called the Ganga Aarti, on the ghat near Parmarth Niketan Ashram.

The moon keeps filling up

Hari and I met up again for a chai, and then headed off to this Kirtan festival. Singing kirtan is a beautiful part of yoga spiritual practice, and involves sitting around chanting Sanskrit mantras. They’re chanted repetitively, and over time can lead people into a really different sensory realm, helping them to de-stress and get more in touch with themselves and each other.

It may sound a bit too cosmic for you, but it really works for some people, me included sometimes.

And it can be an acquired taste. As a musician, when I first began chanting I found it a bit boring, from a musical perspective. But I slowly came to realise it’s not just about the music, it’s much much bigger than that. And btw sometimes the music’s bloody amazing, as it was at this session.

The organisers had decorated the laneways so we could all find our way. So sweet.

People letting their hair, and their guard, down.

We danced like spiritual lunatics. It’s so funny, I’d just been thinking how much I needed a dance like that.

Of course, Hari and I connected with some amazing people, including Indian Sakshi, who’s the most incredible singer and dancer ever. We all ate together, and then eventually headed down to the Ganga late at night to carry on with the music.

Reaching a cowposse

We sang a few songs, but the definite highlight of the night was Sakshi standing up and singing “And I Will Always Love You,” that Dolly Parton song that Whitney Houston made famous. I’ll never forget the sight and sound of her busting her lungs out across the Ganga in the most heartfelt and vocally brilliant way ever.

Priceless.

We told her she really has to enter Indian Idol. She also sang us one of her own songs, about a butterfly, and accompanied herself on a uke. Definitely superstar material.

Blurry jammin’

Heading to Himachal Pradesh

Hari and I met for a smoothie bowl in the morning. Yep, a smoothie bowl, of all things. It was delicious.

But I really, really fucked up.

I was having a beautiful conversation with a young woman about music, and about her journey in India. It’s her first time here.

She sounded Russian or Eastern European to me, and at some point I said to her something like, “so, you sound Russian, is that right?”

She looked at me as if she wanted me to vaporise into a burning pile of toxic ash.

“No, she said. I’m from Ukraine, and it’s very insensitive of you to say that.”

Fuuuuuck!!!

I apologised profusely, she started to cry about the war, said she’s so sick of talking about it, and that people mistake her for being Russian at least ten times a day.

Shit!!! The poor woman.

I just can’t imagine how painful it would be to have your own country destroyed by an invader, and your friends and family killed.

So incredibly traumatic.

I mean, just ask Indigenous Australians about that one, for example.

I tried my utmost to make amends, but she really wasn’t having it. The whole thing left me feeling incredibly regretful, and her incredibly hurt.

But I guess, if I wanna find something positive about it, that it did allow her to openly shed lots of tears about the war. My fuckup gave her a good reason to let it all out, which can only be a good thing.

So, eventually, Hari and I wandered off and said our goodbyes. I was sad, but we may meet again, who knows?

To The Maroon Hills

And so, I’m heading to another state, Himachal Pradesh, to an area called Dharamsala.

It’s a place that’s very dear to me.

I’ve had so many transformative experiences there, and met so many people there that have remained lifelong friends.

Dharamsala is also the home-in-exile of the Dalai Lama of Tibet, and there’s a massive community of maroon-robed monks and nuns, as well as lay Tibetans. It’s jam packed with temples, monasteries, meditation centres and sacred places.

And it also happens to be in the beautiful foothills of the Himalaya, and so is blessed with all the scenic beauty that goes with that.

Yeah, please don’t get jealous.

I can’t help it if I’m off to yet another Paradise❤️

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