<Trip Report May 2014> Shimla, Kinnaur and Spiti - A Busventure

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#61 Jun 25th, 2015, 13:01
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#61

A Bright morning in Chitkul and a dark evening in Peo

I woke up around five thirty the next morning and was in a self-congratulatory mood as i opened the window and looked outside - What a view!



Animated, grabbing my camera, I rushed outside in my pyjamas intending to capture some shots. Golden sunlight reflected off the high snow clad peaks while birds chirped all around and there were no sounds other than that. I'm unable to upload the video right now, but once youtube upload works again for me, you should get some idea. I got some excellent shots of the peaks nearby as well. My exuberance lasted about five minutes till I realized my stupidity and got back indoors – it was freezing.




Back in the bath, the geyser didn’t work and I had to fetch Raising, who helpfully supplied me with the water heater. It is photographed and shown below. Scared for my life, I used the broom as an insulator to lift and lower the naked filament it into a bucket of water and switch it on.



At nine, I was ready to leave the premises and checked out – I was on a budget but I didn’t intend to risk my life any further than necessary. Damru whipped up some amazing alu parathas for breakfast and the view was great too. L joined me shortly as well.





On a Raising’s recommendation, we decided to walk to the nearby river in search of a spring he had mentioned. I reckon we would have walked no more than a half kilometer, in the direction of Sangla (opposite direction of ITBP camp), and left the main road for a walking track (well marked), that got progressively lower as we walked further.



Population around was thin, and in another half kilometer, we had passed by a lady herding her donkeys and a lonely dzo (cross between a buffalo or cow and a yak). We tried asking for directions but the lady had already passed ahead and the dzo wasn’t interested in small talk with strangers.





So we continued to push forward and soon found ourselves hopelessly lost amidst a clutch of thorny bushes and stones used by the local population to mark the boundary of their fields. The first one shows L looking for a way ahead and the second is the area where we could not find anything (the path had ended)





The sun was getting warmer quickly and there was no one about to tell us where to go. So after a brief struggle with the bushes, we went towards the river abandoning the hope of reaching the spring.



We got close to the river but this truculent customer blocked access.



After some more pussyfooting around the bushes, we made it to the river and were very happy with the view. It was great! I captured this short video there -




Shortly thereafter, some of the herd started fighting and that made L and I quite wary of staying back any longer near the river and we hotfooted back.



On the way back, we met the lady and admired her donkeys. I always have thought of donkeys as docile, needlessly ridiculed animals – just look at this one, he’s sweet and carries two sacks-full of load.



On the way back there were many opportunities to get some superb shots of the scenery around.



At a half past one, I was waiting for the bus to take me back to Reckong Peo. A couple of Himalayan eagles were flying around and I was able to track one well enough to capture this shot.



Aboard the bus was the biggest surprise of all – the same driver as yesterday! He was visibly pleased to see me and the feeling was mutual. Once again, I was given the front seat and got talking to him. He was more than helpful and helped me sort out my travel plans for the remainder of the trip. His favourite word for Kaza was ‘Kaza to pare hai’ (kaza is far).

As I have posted many photos from the journey between Reckong peo and Chitkul a few posts back, I won’t be posting many here. However, this video and the few shots below should give you some idea of how close to the edge the bus gets and in general, why this road really deserves its place on the world’s deadliest roads TV show. It’s well worth the experience.




Dark clouds were filling the sky as we got to the temple of the devi that blesses the travellers on this road. By the time we were at Shongtong bridge, it was drizzling and that got me quite worried.

Kinnaur district is known for its landslides – just the year before my trip- later in the season, the CM of Himachal was trapped along with thousands of other people in the district when incessant rains caused massive landslides and closed the direct road to Shimla, the state capital. I asked the driver whether I should go up to Kalpa in the bus but he advised otherwise and suggested that it is safer to stay back in Reckong peo the night before boarding the morning bus for Kaza. That bus would leave at 7 am and will be booked solid. However, after we pulled into the Peo bus stand, driver-ji did me a good turn – he introduced me to the man on the ticket window. Mr B (on the window) not only generated a computerized ticket for me instantly, he assured me of a good seat on the bus.

With the drizzle increasing to a steady downpour, I scouted around for a hotel in Reckong peo and to my surprise, couldn’t spot anything good near the bus stand area. Tired, and wet, I settled for a cheap room at a totally forgettable establishment – but at a walking distance from the bus stand. The man at the counter didn’t want to own up to anything at all – there was no intercom to call the reception and he didn’t give me his real phone number (I discovered that later at night). The room was atrocious, with dirty sheets, and the door to the bathroom was at an elevation of well over one foot from the bedroom floor. It was however, secured just in time, as this view of the sky above should show you.



I walked a fair distance from the hotel to the main market of Reckong peo and saw sights exactly as described in guidebooks - cheapish clothes sold over the footpath, repair shops working on old bikes, several seedy looking personalities sauntering about doing whatever seedy looking personalities do.



If there was a high point in the evening, it was the discovery of this stall selling Safeda mangoes. The second was of this stall manned by a couple of Bihari boys – they made excellent golgappas and alu tikka. After a week in the mountains, these were manna from heaven and were graciously accepted.





My attempts to withdraw cash from an ATM failed as did the attempt to purchase Diamox (to battle AMS in spiti, should there be a need) and I walked back to the hotel.

There was a power outage and I had to sit in the restaurant opposite a man about five feet six tall, in his mid fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a goatee beard. It turned out he was a learned professor of physics who had got himself an education at IIT, then at Cambridge and taught for over three decades across the world. Now, he was semi-retired and was spending two months in reckong peo in this hovel that I was dreading my first night in. He lit up a bidi (Indian country cigarette) and elucidated the meaning of life for the next hour or so.

I had no option but to tolerate him. It was the lowest point of my trip.
Last edited by vaibhav_arora; Jun 26th, 2015 at 14:46..
#62 Jun 25th, 2015, 13:32
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#62
Quote:
Originally Posted by vaibhav_arora View Post .. .. I had to sit in the restaurant opposite a man about five feet six tall, in his mid fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a goatee beard. It turned out he was a learned professor of physics who had got himself an education at IIT, ... ... ... He lit up a bidi (Indian country cigarette) and elucidated the meaning of life for the next hour or so.


An enjoyable read . Nice photo of the Flying Eagle , V_ A .
#63 Jun 25th, 2015, 13:56
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#63
Echo arupratan ghosh. The eagle shot is an ohsomething!
#64 Jun 25th, 2015, 14:08
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#64
We need pics of the bidi-smoking professor !

(Joking.)

Great writing and super photos, Vaibhav.
#65 Jun 25th, 2015, 14:27
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Quote:
Originally Posted by theyyamdancer View Post bidi-smoking professor
A incident that I recollect from my past.

Once upon a time during the mid 90's I was working as a computer lab instructor. One fine day the company informed us that all male staff need to wear a tie while at work. One day during our break I felt like smoking a bidi. So I went to the local paan shop asked for a bidi. With a tie around my neck, bidi in my lips and lighter in my hand I was been looked at by the people passing by.

It sure would have been a spectacle for most of them.

From now on I will call them a blast from the past.
#66 Jun 26th, 2015, 16:02
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#66

Patience carries me to the top of the world

Through the previous evening, I had tolerated a lack of hygiene and repeated attacks on my patience, and all of that paid off handsomely the next morning. At a half past six, scrubbed clean and looking sharp, I was at the bus stand. That was perhaps a bit overenthusiastic on my part as the window was still closed and there was no sign of Mr B.

In the shop selling breakfast, I sat opposite laborers from Bihar and a family headed for Spiti and a wall of luggage four feet high and five feet wide and perhaps three deep. As I gobbled the excellent Fan (savoury pastry), tea, and alu-paratha, the realization dawned that all of us in this room were intending to be on the same bus. I further reckoned that given the enthusiasm of all others, perhaps the only party I could dodge would be the wall of luggage.



A mob surrounded the bus the moment doors were opened, and had it not been for the forceful and timely intervention of mr B, who showed up from nowhere, I probably would not have boarded the bus despite having a confirmed, computerized ticket. He introduced me quickly to the driver and disappeared. My seat was right by the door (on the left side of the bus) with superb legroom- that made me happy, being 6'1" - that joy was going to be short-lived though.

We left at a half past seven and through the conversation with the man seated next to me I was told this was the amongst the first buses to Kaza this season. The result was our bus was packed with people returning home from lower reaches after completing seasonal employment as also with labourers working on road construction projects. At-least one of these, a young boy from Bihar, was nearly spilling into my lap and was experiencing severe motion sickness – it was his first time up in the Himalayas. I gave him some green cardamom and he felt greatly relieved as did the man sitting next to me as previously, the boy had to bend over both of us and out the window periodically to vomit. This video captured with great difficulty should show you just how packed like sardines (sorry cant resist the simile) we were -


I couldnt capture much of the scenery outside, but whatever little I could, was very good - this included waterfalls, greenery and many many hills near and far.



With the boy’s health a little better, we journeyed pleasantly for about forty five minutes and crossed this bridge that gave us a great view.



The surrounding mountain sides were getting progressively drier, though one could spot a fair bit of green cover on some mountains. The man sitting next to me, a farmer by profession, explained that we were still in upper Kinnaur and it would be a while before we got to spiti valley.





The bus had been ascending a bit through the last hour and a half that we had traveled, and then it stopped briefly and a policeman climbed aboard asking everyone to show their ID cards. By that time, I was feeling so crushed that I considered getting off - but somehow, I just kept sitting.
We then moved further and came to a halt for breakfast, at a half past nine, where half the bus got eating. This was the village of Spello (written Spillow).



I had had breakfast already so I looked for interesting subjects to photograph - and indeed this dog provided me the opportunity. The sun was harsher here - we were at about 2650 meters altitude - but mostly because the cloud cover seen in the morning at Reckong Peo was gone.



We then crossed the village of pooh (written 'puh' but pronounced the way I've written it earlier). One can get dedicated buses or share jeeps till here in season.



This river was not the crystal blue of yesterday, very different from the Baspa, but a dull brown in color.



At a half past eleven, we were at Khab Bridge – the valley here gets quite narrow and the rocks are all jagged. The bridge marks the confluence of Sutlej river with Spiti river and is of strategic importance and is manned by ITBP, photography is prohibited while one's on the bridge. I got a shot a little before.



After we crossed the bridge, I captured a short video.


Within a few minutes of that, I realized that the bus had taken a U-turn and was on an incline, ascending. The river was now to my right and I didn’t have a view, so I packed away my camera in the bag. After a half kilometre or so, it did the same trick again, and I had to take out the camera again. Well, it didn’t stop there I must tell you, as the bus turned yet again, and neither I nor the camera nor the farmer next to me nor the Bihari boy looking at all of this had a clue what should I do next. It was quite puzzling for me as to why the bus didn’t make up its mind and go in one direction - so we just looked at each other sheepishly and then the only one knowledgeable amongst us – the farmer – explained that these switchbacks were the way we would gain height required to access the villages in Spiti. Technically – we were already in Spiti as soon as we had crossed the Khab Bridge.



Well, that explained it and as I was no longer confused, I kept the camera in my lap waiting for the next photo opportunity. I didn’t have to wait for long as the contrast between the hills we were going up on and the hills opposite (across the river valley), couldn’t be greater. From some distance, the hill we were riding on, resembled the dry landscape of Rajasthan while the snow on the peaks opposite was decidedly Himachal. The mountains themselves reminded me most of Death Valley, California.





The river, meanwhile had all but disappeared somewhere down in the ravine.



We rose in altitude steadily every couple kilometers and the landscape got drier still, it was almost the color of ash for some parts.
By noon, the green swathes seen earlier in the morning the interspersed the brown loam were gone completely – this was sand, gravel, rock and ice country – barren and harsh - and yet it was nature's palette at its finest - many shades of brown, dull green, deep sand, loam, white, black and chocolate all so nuanced and perfectly graded. Somewhere at a distance, across the horizon, stood the peak of Reo Purgyil (the highest mountain of Himachal Pradesh – at 6800 meters) - the view of the peak obstructed by the clouds.



At quarter past twelve, we were nearly at the top of the mountain we had started ascending an hour earlier, at Khab bridge. Here, the bus slowed down and came to a halt. The below shot shows the switchbacks we had finished ascending with the spiti river quite far down.



From here, I captured another shot, which shows a patch of green – that is the village of Leo Purgial (or purgyil) - the base from where the trek to the mountain begins (so I was told). It appears considerably lower in altitude (as seen in this photograph). It's not on the main road from what I recall and a few people got off to go to this village at a stop.



No one was sure why we had stopped (we assumed a landslide ahead) – so we all got down and I shot this video which had a panoramic view of the valley. All the mountains on the horizon have peaks above the snow line. It felt like being on top of the world - so commanding is the view.

#67 Jun 26th, 2015, 16:57
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#67
"And now, we're finally here...(pause)....Stuck."
Btw, your voice sounds somewhat similar to mine. I went like Whaaat? when I heard the audio.
#68 Jun 26th, 2015, 20:34
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#68
Another great description and accompanying pics and video. Thank you, Vaibhav, for this great story.

I did not know that green cardamom is a cure for travel sickness. Good to know !
#69 Jun 26th, 2015, 23:51
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#69
Thanks to all for the comments and likes esp those who are following it consistently - a_g, sajish, Ronak, TD, legless, l1s1. The contrast and change in scenery when one moves from kinnaur to spiti has to be experienced to be believed. I will resume soon with the remainder of the journey.
#70 Jun 27th, 2015, 12:58
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Vaibhav, thanks to you for going on this busventure & taking the time to write about it. We all can see how tough this busventure is. Eagerly waiting for the next part.

Ronak.
#71 Jun 28th, 2015, 14:34
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#71

Tabo! Tabo!

We must have been stuck – on top of the world – for at-least a half hour. I captured a shot of the farmer (who was sitting on my left) talking to the bus driver (first below).



Another one, of the massive clouds that cast humongous shadows on the gigantic mountains (three superlatives in one sentence, what other place but the Himalayas can inspire you to do that?). In the same place, the apple trees appear nearly horizontal.



After this, again via some turns, we descended a bit, and stopped at a three way junction for the village of Mulling – the altitude here was 3642 meters and we were still far from Tabo, 61 kms and farther still from Kaza – 105 Kms.



Another half hour later, we passed through Nako, and I noticed apple plantations. The farmer helpfully explained that apple farming here has gained ground in the past decade or so with improved irrigation and water management techniques. The soil of spiti is very fertile, its only water that was lacking.



At some distance I also noticed what, at 3600 meters, must rank amongst the world’s highest cricket grounds (Michael Palin, in his book, Himalaya, describes a cricket match in Gilgit area, Hunza valley, Pakistan – but google tells me its only 1500 meters). The bus was moving fast enabling only this, fuzzy shot. Still, the joie de vivre of people of the hills is infectious.



The sun was no longer overhead, and the peaks opposite were shining bright, reflecting all that came there way. The road was very dusty though and we were running towards Sumdo.



The bus slowed down considerably on many turns that were narrow enough to barely let it pass through, the driver exercising extreme caution to negotiate such bends and honking many times. The effects of the rough roads, dust coming in through the windows and the general heart-in-my-mouth scare induced by roads such as below were all getting accumulated.



This area that we were passing through now was very prone to landslides, being extremely dry as I captured in this photograph when I looked back.



I felt a little worse for the wear, and snoozed perhaps no more than ten minutes. When I woke up, on my left, was a sight most spectacular - like gigantic chocolate cakes topped with vanilla and a bit of mist created by molecular gastronomy - except that these were not. They were the harsh side of himalayas, with the spiti river now an insignificant streak - dull and weak - perhaps a kilometer below.



We came upon another set of switchbacks and commenced descent towards the spiti river. The farmer pointed out that the lighter colored soil shown in the photo below is loam and used by spitians for constructing houses. He could identify it visually while, I, ignoramus supreme, was thinking – it looks like something a giant celestial cat clawed out of the hill side. Evidently, it wasn’t that – so much for the invisible big meow.

Facepalm.



At a half past two we had descended considerably and were only a few hundred feet above the river’s surface. At a bend, I noticed it was quite green and we were coming to a slow stop. The village of Hurling was a rest stop but I didn’t find any vegetarian food in the lone Tibetan stall that had people in it. The bend in the river was beautiful though.



The village didn’t seem to have much going for it – except maybe three pretty donkeys that walked past our bus.



The light and the scenery changed yet again, it was a tad greener – though here in this high altitude desert – a patch of wild grass amidst the brown and grey surroundings is also to be considered green – so pretty is the contrast.
And then, in an hour, the fields by the side of the river turned spectacularly green and my neighbor pointed – this is Tabo.



It was half past four when I got down at the bus stand of Tabo and my sheer surprise as to how deserted it was, inspired me to do this video –


Finding a room was no problem as I got lucky – with no peek possible on the net (phone stopped working sometime in upper kinnaur as only BSNL covers this remote district), and no one to ask around either, I had stumbled into what is possibly the most reputed accommodation in Tabo – the Kesang home stay. Ran by Mr Bodh, who is ever so helpful - what a contrast from last evening’s hovel it was. A spotless room, with a working geyser was mine for just Rs 400/- (later season rates are double that).



I was at the complex when it was about to close down for the evening and in my hurry to find the sole lama who mans the complex in the start of the season, I missed the new assembly hall. I remembered to photograph the new stupa, painted and plated with stunning gold, outside.



I walked to the main hall of the gompa – known as the Tsug Lakhang – there is a recess from the step where shoes need be taken off – which I did and walked forward.

Photography is prohibited inside, and the lamaji was quite strict about it, hence I give below what I remember from that day, though it’s been a year and a month now. As I entered through the red, fading door, my eyes adjusted to the dim light and I became aware that the ceiling was lower than what I am used to in an average sized room. On my right was a table with some papers, posters and other material. Light filtered in from at-least two windows on the right side (behind the table) and thick wooden poles seemed to hold up the ceiling. What took a minute longer to register was that every square inch of the walls was painted with murals – depicting the life of the bodhisattava.

There was another door – diametrically opposite the table and I could see through it that there was a hall, much bigger than the room I was in. I could hear someone talking and I walked inside, there were two girls, tourists apparently from their clothing, who had engaged the lama in a never ending conversation about what was painted on the walls (it is impossible to describe the artistry or its meaning in a few words).

I walked inside this main hall that had in its centre, sunlight filtering in through a ventilator in the ceiling. The walls, of double height of the previous room, were painted from the floor to the ceiling with stories from the lives of the bodhisattvas. Parallel to all the walls on the floor ran a runner topped with mattresses – no doubt for seating the monks for prayer – and in front of that was a low table, also running parallel. What was striking though was that at chest height from the ground or perhaps a bit higher were life-life figures of the gods of Vajrayana Buddhism – I saw Ocher Manjusri, green and white taras, Blue akshobhyas, white Vairocanas and many more. All these figures are made of clay and then painted over and in that dim light looked like their creator had gone out recently, perhaps to get a drink of water, and not a millennium ago, in 996 AD.

Further down the hall at the end of its nave, the opposite wall, didn’t close completely but rather it gave way to two doors – each leading to a long transept that is recessed. As I entered this area, on either side flush with the walls, were very tall, life like statues of more bodhisattvas – I remember the brick red Vajraratna the best.

I exited from the other door back into the main hall. Here, I came to face (again on my right), thus at the end of the hall, with a fourfould figure, all white, of Vairochanas in the dhamma cakra pavattana mudra – each facing one cardinal direction. It was all absolutely stunning work – a wonderland of Buddhist art.

Prior to my visit, I had heard a bit about the ‘Ajanta of the Himalayas’ – which is how the monastery at Tabo is referred to. However, it wasn’t enough to describe it. This place, in some respects surpasses the Ajanta caves – in other ways, it’s probably not a fair comparison. I stepped outside and captured the monastery’s courtyard, with a note to myself that I’ll look at it again the next morning – remembering the inscription inside the Tsug Lakhang of the Tabo Choskhor that rang so true –

“For those who are tired from the long journey; and for all beings,
witnesses of misery
that have been abandoned by friends and relatives;
this beautiful temple has been constructed.”



My next stop were a few caves, which are located about a half kilometre from the monastery, up a hillside – these were used by monks in medieval times to meditate. The local population, being very religious in nature, still pays their respects to their monks by tying small prayer flags (which carry their prayers to the heavens as they flutter in the wind) inside these caves.



From here, I also got a good view over Tabo and of the surrounding mountains.





On my way back, with limited availability of places to eat, I stepped into an eatery manned by two Tibetan migrant girls. They were very quick with their work. One of them chopped onions with a fat cleaver and talked to me about how economic opportunity in spiti valley makes them leave dharamsala at the start of every tourist season, while the other showed me how their pasta making machine worked.





It was dark by the time my perambulations and gustatory adventures were completed. I then retired to my room, rolled over and effortlessly died.
Last edited by vaibhav_arora; Jun 29th, 2015 at 07:35..
#72 Jun 28th, 2015, 14:57
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#72
Very nice TL Vaibhab. Did you take notes or it is all from memory. Keep it coming.
#73 Jun 28th, 2015, 21:36
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Thanks GP. It's all from memory. During a trip to Ladakh in 2012, I developed some understanding (identification by sight) of Tibetan Buddhist gods. That came in handy on this trip.

I'll try to update soon.
#74 Jun 29th, 2015, 13:09
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#74
Also, now when I look back upon my trip - the time I spent (one night) in Reckong peo, after getting wet in the rain, and the conditions of the room, contributed to some cough. That, added with the journey over some really rough roads the previous two days (to and fro Chitkul) and then on this jam packed bus, I was quite tired by the time I reached Tabo. However, the altitude of Tabo, the setting and the love and care of the Bodh family (that runs Kesang) helped me recover quite well for the journey ahead. It was rather dry though and my cough didnt completely cure. Tabo has a very nice 'feel' to it. Places further down in Spiti are too 'raw' but Tabo was just perfect for me.
#75 Jun 29th, 2015, 14:26
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Very interested about the pasta making machine.
If a problem can be solved there is no use worrying about it. If it cant be solved, worrying will do no good ~ H.H
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