And so the wheel turns to complete the circle. After nearly 40 years I find my self back in Manali.
A much changed manali. These days a busy tourist hub packed with hotels and B&Bs. It’s the back end of the summer season and there are still lots of tourists around.
40 years ago the place was tiny Scott and I were the only western tourists in town and homegrown Indian tourism hadn’t really been invented. Today the Indian tourist industry is well and truly on fire in Manali. Back in 86 I remember having a conversation with someone about the desire to develop tourism in the valley. That has certainly happened.
For me the last few weeks have been magical. Early on I left a busy hot and humid Srinigar preparing for india national day on the 15th August. A strong police and army presence presumably there to deter any Kashmiri independence protests.
Quickly out and into the lush green mountains. Once over the first big pass the green fading to brown and the vast mountain desert that is Ladakh.
The language of Ladakh not grounded in vegetation but in rock. Rock folded and blended like multi flavoured ice cream. Rock spiky. Rock brown, rock red, rock lustrous and shimmering in the strong high altitude sunshine. Were I a geologist I’d be very happy and be able to name the myriad of rock on display. I’m not I’m a cyclist peddling in awe at the beauty that I have found day after day.
The journey from Srinigar to Manali has taken me 12 days. Two of those spent in Leh resting and acclimatising to the altitude. Lucky enough on an off chance to receive a blessing from his holiness the Dalai Lama. I have to pinch myself writing those words.
In those twelve days apart from the scenery and the sense of awe at the beauty of the world and universe, two other things have shone brightly for me.
Firstly the people. Diverse. I’ve met so many kind Kashmiris, Sikhs with a spirit of adventure, Ladakhis caring and resilient with the odd unusual and interesting European traveller mixed in. What unites us all is our desire to connect share and learn. Time and time again conversations centre around family and our dreams. I’ve stayed in many different places from the expensive Airbnbs in Leh and Manali to very cheap roadside dhabas. A few days back high up on the Ladakh, Himachal Pradesh border in a small village consisting only of rudimentary shacks. Water harvested from the mountainside and electricity from solar panels I stayed with a lovely Ladakhi woman who cooked the best aloo paratha I’ve had so far. Rich from the oil and fragrant with spices. She couldn’t understand me, but we shared smiles and I showed her my picture of the Dalai Lama and me. There was connection even though our lives are worlds apart.
Secondly it’s nature. High up life is marginal and scarce. I’ve had a number of wonderful encounters. Himalayan vultures, wings spanning more than three meters gliding high up in the thin air as I descend high mountain passes. Himalayan Marmots large and stout as big as a house cat, squirrelling around in the mountainside grass and scrub. I surprised a couple of deer on one climb. A mother and her child watching me with suspicion. Skitting down the steep hillside as I drew near. Birds whose name I do not know flying close by. Beautiful but not overstated.
Ahead now lays a journey of something like three weeks across the planes of northern India to Mumbai. I know it will be tough. I will have to acclimatises to the heat. And it will be busy with people as I travel through some of the most densely populated area of India.
While the route may be uncertain one thing I know is that there will be adventure.
