Himalayan Challenge
for
Whizz-Kidz
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
Indian
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Corner shop… |
Log 10 November 7th
Two tiny blue tents, side by side, and virtually rubbing
shoulders sat almost as outriders on the boundary of the camp…These were our
smallest rooms, placed at a respectable distance away…and as discreet as a
campsite in the Himalayas would allow…
It was quite a walk…and not easy to find at night, unless
engaged, when they would shine out, by virtue of the occupants’ headlamps,
like pretty blue beacons …
...with shadowplay.
In which case there were probably alternatives nearer to home…
When you did get to go, it was much like zipping yourself into
a straitjacket might be…you had to remain vertical and just bend at the
knees…
But…they were green, and functional…even had a makeshift seat
and lid over the deep hole that had to be dug…Then when you’d done, you
shovelled a mixture of lime and earth on top…
This was the new flush…and it worked.
Supermarkets beware.
|
…with delivery service |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
Early morning and high
above camp… |
Today was to be the last day of the trek. So
a rather poignant mixture of sadness and elation accompanied us over
breakfast and the usual hustle and bustle of striking camp… …soon to be submerged, however, by the stiff
climb that followed…as we swiftly rose high above camp and into yet another
beautiful day. We
were en route to Dena Park…and our finishing post…and we would make it by
lunchtime… So
only a morning’s walk...but it certainly gave me an opportunity to reflect on
the incredible journey we had all undertaken…not just in India and the
Himalayas, but also throughout the preceding weeks and months of preparation
at home… And
we had come a long way. |
Terrace contours… |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
The final ascent… |
We
reached our destination amidst feelings of joy and relief…with laughter and
tears…shouting and cheering…or, now and again, in moments of pensive silence… With irrepressible smiles and hugs we did
the rounds of mutual congratulations… |
…and short break before… |
…and
bunched up for the inevitable photos. We
breathed that deep breath of success… and the air was like wine… It
tasted of unprecedented achievement. |
High noon… |
||||||||||||||||||
|
Author… |
After
transferring to Built
in 804AD, it is an ancient and important pilgrimage site…dedicated to Lord
Shiva as Vaidyanath, or Lord of Physicians. The
temple is a fine example of sculpture and intricate stone carvings…and at the
entrance stands a life-size stone statue of Nandi,
Shiva’s preferred mode of transport. Each
year, during the Shivratri fair, visitors come to
this holy site for the colourful festivities. |
…and team at the winning
post |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
Entrance to |
Shiva’s transport…Nandi |
Outside… |
...and inside, with window
detail… |
|||||||||||||||||||
|
Unaccustomed
luxury, albeit brief, was in store for us during our one night’s stay at the Set
amongst the pungent camphor woods of the The
Heritage Wing was built by the Nawab of |
|
I
had the pleasure of staying in the Heritage Wing…in a bedroom with double
doors, a high ceiling, an enormous window overlooking the gardens…and a
dressing room that led into the marbled bathroom…with original fittings. This
was opulence…and a banquet for the eyes…but for me, the bed and the bath were
all the luxury I needed. We
sat on the verandah for a drink in the early
evening…and we dined in the vast dining room at the long table…after which we
could be found variously draped on easy chairs and sofas in the main lounge
of the Heritage Wing… …just
one stop before sinking into bed. |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
November 8th I
had a full-body Indian massage before breakfast…lying in an oil slick, flat
out on a table…in my birthday clothes…It was a perilous state to be in…I
could so easily have ridden out on the next
wave of oil, and disappeared over the edge… But
somehow I kept the bit between my teeth…survived the basting and slapping
around…and was finally led, slipping and sliding, to the bath, where I was
unceremoniously deluged with water and left to slither around…I felt in need
of a bottle of washing up liquid. I
sat at breakfast, warm, pretty damp, and radiating a kind of oily sheen… An
enlightening experience…for one and all. |
…and old… |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
…colonial halls of the
palace wing |
There
wasn’t a lot to pack…as not much had been unpacked…so
there was plenty of time to stroll round the grounds…swing in the
hammocks…and sit idly on the ornate garden chairs… Just
chatting. |
Garden in the ‘Land of the
Crescent Moon’ |
In
the later part of the morning, we moved on from here to Norbulinka
Institute… Named
after the Dalai Lama’s summer palace near |
Stairway to… |
||||||||||||||||||
|
Tibetan Centre at Norbulinka |
The
institute has three main sections…The Centre for Arts, The We
spent an hour or two here…just wandering, admiring, visiting the temple…shopping
in the craft centre…and prolonging… Holding
on to the day by our fingernails… But
late afternoon saw us inevitably begin to close the circle…as we returned
firstly to Bir to collect any belongings we hadn’t
needed on the trek…and thence back down the road to Chakki
Bank…stopping en route at the ‘breakfast’ restaurant we had visited a lifetime ago on our way out... At
8.00pm we had only part-boarded the overnight sleeper to |
Fine detail |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
…when
the train began to move, threatening to leave the tail-end of the team on the
platform... The
corridor was already bottle-necked with folks and luggage…and we were faced
with a race against time to reel the rest in…desperately trying to grab them
from the greedy jaws of the persistently closing doors… Result…one
large scrap heap of bags…and bodies, with arms and legs flailing in every
direction…crammed floor to ceiling in the corridor… For
just one moment I had to envy sardines their spacious accommodation. |
November 9th
|
I
spent the night in a four-berth compartment…and, in contrast to the outward
journey, did manage to get some sleep…an indication, perhaps that it’s
possible to become accustomed to anything… Some
of the team, however, were not quite so lucky…having had to play all-night watchdog
to a mischievous collection of wildlife…hell-bent on a nocturnal game of hide
and seek… We
fell out of the train at Chakki Bank at 4.00 in the
morning…and were immediately swept up by taxis that delivered us in a blur to
To
await the express train for |
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||||||||||||
And we did wait…and watch…as
the Indian morning that lay carpeted before us slowly woke…rubbing its sleepy
eyes, performing its ablutions, brushing its teeth and changing its clothes…snuffling
babies, bundled in sleep on forgotten corners of blankets…and tearful,
coughing children tugging at their mothers’ saris and distant preoccupations…
After an hour we boarded
the train and shot to
|
|
And I guess I could have
wished to see it in better circumstances…The place was surrounded by a
seething mass of people…and we were pushed and shoved…bullied and marshalled
into shape by the security arrangements…
Stripped of everything bar
clothes, camera and water, we were finally allowed through into the hallowed
space beyond this checkpoint…
But I wouldn’t have missed
it…It was more than I could ever have imagined…despite the large numbers of
other visitors.
We spent around two hours…basking
in the blinding reflection from this awesome monument…spreading our wings in
the expansive green spaces of the gardens…and cutting our way into the dense,
suffocating heat of the interior of the mausoleum…
It is a wonder
indeed…though, if I were to return, I would do so whilst others slept… at
dawn…or in the moonlight…
Maybe just to reflect on
what one man did in memory of a woman.
|
||||||||||||||||||||
The return journey to Delhi
was in sharp contrast to the morning’s slick and modern outward trip…The
train in question turned out to be the day version of the overnight
sleeper…late in arriving at Agra, though perhaps excusable to some degree as
it had been on the rails, and indeed travelling from the south coast, for about
two days when we finally boarded it.
It was slow…an experience
none of us would probably have minded…but, on that occasion, it became
painfully so, as we had all suddenly remembered that we had families and
friends at home…and we needed to do some major shopping…
…the prospect of which
seemed increasingly unlikely, as the train ground to a complete halt due to a
faulty electric cable.
But sometimes one has to
succumb to the vagaries of providence and be thankful…because it gave us time
to rest, to reflect, to talk, share our thoughts…and maybe a bit more
insightfully than before.
By the time we got back,
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
We spent the last evening,
at the same hotel, in a frenzy of activity, trying to pretend that we weren’t
really going home…There was unpacking and repacking to do, just to reduce the
number and variety of bags we had to carry…There was a certain amount of
unaccustomed cleansing going on…a search, largely unsuccessful, for something
vaguely presentable to travel back home in…desperate rifling for long-hidden
passports and tickets…and, as ever, the loneliness of just the one
long-distance sock…
Well, it stopped us
thinking too much…but after that we babbled over dinner and our bottles of
Kingfisher up on the roof once more…brought the cameras out for the last time…and
said our final goodnights.
By mid-morning the
following day, we were on the road to
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
Logs: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Back to
Intro
Back to home page
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
