As it was in the beginning,

so shall it be in the end. After 9 days of our trip, we had learned to expect the unexpected, and anticipated our last two days to be even more difficult than what was indicated on the map, though I think we were all secretly hoping we were just exaggerating the level of difficulty. With over 200km of rough-and-tumble roads to cover in 2 days, including 2 mountain passes, and no more gas stations before our final destination, we set off from Kibber Village at 7am, hoping to reach Chandra Tal Lake by late afternoon. To get on the road quickly, we skipped breakfast at the village, which also meant starting our riding in the morning fog, and cold. Within 20 minutes we stopped to add extra layers of clothing, as even traveling at 30 km/h made it substantially colder while riding. Throughout the day, rarely were we able to exceed these speeds, as we did not encounter any paved roads. In fact, the road only changed between one of fist and skull-sized rocks to streams of flowing water where we had to weigh the risk of lifting our feet to keep them dry but also having less control and balance to navigate over the unseen, uneven ground below the water.

In the afternoon, Lior's bike entered a ditch and fell over, fortunately only at 5 km/h. We fixed his broken brake handle within a few minutes, but both Lior and Hadassah were a bit shaken up, and so we decided to start riding slower and more cautiously. And after climbing up to the next mountain pass, Hadassah switched over to ride on the back of my bike. We reached Tal around 3pm, where there were 2 dhabas, some tents, and an above-ground hatch of sorts, which we decided would be our resting place for the night. With a few hours before sunset, Benami, Amir and myself decided we would make the 30km climb to the lake and return. This was a site we didn't want to miss. After 10 minutes of riding up the very difficult path, we reached what could only be described as a pool, with water filling it up one one side and falling over the edge of a cliff on the other. The water was flowing rapidly, towards the cliff. The pool was long, some parts where the depth was easily visible, some parts being unknown. Amir threw some rocks into the deep end, hoping to determine the depth somehow. They tried to figure out an ideal path to cross, unwilling to admit that this road was unpassable for motorcycles. I rested my bike on its kickstand, leaning it up on a small rock. As I approached the stream for a closer inspection, one of the bikers also stuck there yelled out. I turned, and instantly knew the sight I was about to see. My bike had fallen over on its side, on the edge of the 15 foot cliff, and was slowly sliding down. I can't imagine there ever being a time I ran faster in my life. While running, I screamed for help to pull it up, as I got on the cliff-side of the bike to keep it from falling to its doom. I can not think of words other than 'luckily' and 'fortunately,' but I do not think they properly emphasize the gratefulness I felt for that bike not being lost forever, another 120 km from our destination. Either way, the bike was saved. And after waiting for my hands to stop shaking, we determined that the stream was unpassable, and returned down to Tal.

We spent the next 5 hours in the dhaba (a very simple hut that serves very simple food), trying to stay warm, waiting for an appropriate time to go to bed. And our beds that night were just extra blankets on the floor. I froze that night, and got little more than a few winks of sleep.

We woke up early the next morning, ready to take on our last day, and the dreaded Rohtang La mountain pass. Within 30 minutes of increasingly worsening uphill road conditions, my brake handle snapped in half simply from me gripping it tightly. I was left with only the back brake, foot-operated, which is cewrtainly not ideal for uneven, uphill roads. And for this reason, I needed to ride solo, and so Hadassah got off of my bike. Keren was still with Benami, and Amir's bike was still on the verge of collapsing at any moment, so Hadassah got back on the bike with Lior. We continued riding, and continued getting treated to new surprises. Now, instead of streams of water flowing across the road, they flowed down the road, over and in between the rocks. It wasn't long before my shoes were soaked. Next, we got our first taste of mud. They were long, flat paths of mud, very runny from the past two days of rain. We rode slowly and carefully though, and nobody slipped and fell.

We stopped around noon, and replaced the brake handle on my bike. We still had over an hour to ride before reaching the top of the pass, 50km from Manali. We began our climb, and were making good time when we were 6km from the top. At this point, Amir's bike gave up. We replaced and re-replaced the spark plug, detached and re-attached every wire, filled more gas, attempted to start it in 2nd gear while rolling downhill. Nothing worked. The bike was done. After hailing down a few cars which didn't help, we finally got a big Tata truck to stop after over an hour. It took 7 men to lift that bike 5 feet up into the back of the truck. Like our first day, we waved goodbye to Amir and Hadassah, and hoped to see them in the evening. As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end.

It was now around 3pm, and we had a lot of ground to cover. Little did we know just what that ground included. Quickly, Benami and Keren, Lior, and I zoomed up the mountain. We passed trucks on the curvy roads, and made it to the top of the pass in good time. The view from the top was extraordinary, but unfortunately we didn't have time to stop and appreciate it fully. The first bit of the windy road down lifted our fears, as the roads were decent rocky roads, and the little traffic that there was we were able to maneuver around with ease. But before long, we hit the traffic jam. And I do mean THE traffic jam. With our bikes, we were able to enter some of the muddy paths between the cars and on the sides of the road. But the mud was thick and deep, and traversing through it was certainly putting more strain on our already-tired bikes. Regardless, we took every opportunity we could to bypass stopped cars. At a certain point, we saw that the vehicles heading uphill were stopped with their engines turned off, and the traffic officers were attempting to ease the congestion by getting all the cars down the mountain first. So all of the cars going uphill were shut off, as were the ones going downhill, only being turned on intermittently to move another 5 meters forward and then being shut off again. My bike was exhausted after less than 30 minutes of this riding, and kept shutting down. A nice Indian fellow noticed my troubles and told me he had a friend in the next town down the hill who could maybe help me, because he's an engineer. Not sure what help he would've given, but it was nice of him to offer. I knew I just needed to let the bike cool down, so I found a nice area to park the bike, and decided to give it 10 minutes of rest. The other guys were ahead of me, and I figured I would meet them at the first rest area. When I arrived there 30 minutes later, a ride where I couldn't afford to stop as I knew my bike would shut down again, they were taking a break and letting their bikes cool down.

We only stopped long enough for our bikes to cool, and actually the one benefit of the rain that we entered in that altitude was that it helped cool our bikes down faster. We had over 30 km to go, and were hoping we had passed the worst of it. We hadn't. Riding in the rain, we encountered the second wave of the traffic jam. Only big Tata trucks, all stopped, with no intentions of moving anytime soon. A few times one of us would have to get off the bike for a recon mission, checking to see if there was a clear and driveable path around or in between the trucks. Oftentimes it wasn't possible. In those situations, the very kind truck drivers got back into their trucks and moved them a few feet back, clearing the path for us. Regardless, the paths were ankle-high mud tracks that we had to ride with our feet hanging off the side, in case our bikes slipped and fell over. None of the bikes fell over, but we were all completely covered in mud halfway up our shins. In time, we cleared this area, and only had about 20km of downhill, winding, paved roads to cover before Manali. The first bit was done in a steady rain, but eventually that subsided, and we felt that we were close to home. We arrived in Manali around 7pm, and felt sweet, sweet relief of being back. I immediately went to return my bike, as I didn't want to pay for an extra day of the bike since I knew I wouldn't be using it anymore.

The walk back to my guesthouse, alone, was a strange one, as it was my first time in almost 2 weeks that I wasn't using the bike to get from place to place. I also was able to reflect on the overall motorcycle journey. Despite all of the challenges and breakdowns, the trip easily joined the short list of the highlights of my overall year-long trip, alongside the Annapurna trek in Nepal. I also developed a new love for riding motorcycles, which I'm sure will carry over into the rest of the trip, and will result in me getting my license as soon as I do return home. But my return home is a long time away, and before then there will be many more countries whose sites are best-seen from the seat of a motorcycle. And that's exactly how I intend to see them...

Time is Flying

It's been over a month since I last wrote on this blog, and I've now learned the hard way that I need to try to update this thing more often. I could write an entire book just describing what I've done the past 5 weeks, but I'll try to condense it by listing the places I visited, and some of the highlights. And while I do feel that I was able to fully explore and appreciate all the places I visited in the time I spent there, if I had more time available in India, I would've likely stayed in each place at least twice as long.

Dharamsala - The Home of the Dalai Lama.
I spent roughly 3 weeks amongst the three towns outlying Dharamsala; McLeod Ganj, Dharamkot, and Bagsu.
We took a few day hikes during our time there, some to waterfalls, some to nice viewpoints. And on every single hike, at least one random dog joined along to guide us safely there and back.
Dharamsala also has a great music scene, and every night there were jam sessions going on at different cafes. I heard a plethora of foreign instruments, including my favorite, the pantam.
In Upper Bagsu, we often sat at the Zion Cafe, where you could often find Baba Jee sitting with the tourists, imparting his wisdom upon them while he was on vacation. I even saw him sitting at the internet cafe once, which was quite a funny sight to see, when you consider the fact that he looks something like this.
On the night we left Dharamsala, as we were waiting for our bus, a jeep full of drunk Indians parked their jeep by us, jumped out with the music blasting, and danced in front of the shining headlights. They invited us to join, to which we happily obliged them, knowing they would be very pleased to see our "Westernized" dancing styles, and try to imitate us.

Manali
Realizing that I only had about 1.5 months left in Northern India, and lots more I wanted to see and do, I decided it was time to start making moves, and used my 4 days in Manali to thoroughly explore the 3 connecting cities (New Manali, Old Manali, and Vashist). Coincidentally, the day we arrived in Manali there was a party going on, and for a change I was able to find some friends to have a few drinks with, instead of drinking alone (which I sadly have had to succumb to a few times so far).
We also spent a day at a carnival/4th-rate amusement park of sorts in the woods around Old Manali, which was quite interesting.

Kasol
Like Manali, Kasol is more of a hub city than a place to stay for a very long time. I left Manali on my own, to meet some friends I had traveled with briefly a few weeks previously. After 2 days in Kasol, we were ready to head to the mountains, hopping (or rather, trudging along with our bags) from village to village. Our first stop was Pulga, where I unfortunately had to battle an unpleasant stomach bug on the first day. But besides that, the village was a quiet, relaxing place, with a "fairy forest" and waterfall to keep us busy during the days there. And like most villages in India which do not have much electricity, showers are taken with a hot bucket of water. It may not sound ideal, but it's surprisingly fun (once in a while). On our last night in Pulga, we slaughtered some chickens and had ourselves a nice bbq in the forest.
After three days, we decided to hike up to Khirganga, a 5-hour uphill climb that broke my back from all the weight I was carrying. But for the first time on my trip, I arrived at a place that truly didn't have any electricity. Generators and solar power were saved for the evenings, so the stereo would have enough juice to play. During the day, you could find total silence by just wandering away from the 4 guest houses the village contains. And once again, unfortunately, I got sick up in the mountains. Luckily for me, the draw of Khirganga is not just the amazing view, but also the hot springs located on the mountain. A 20-minute dip every evening, with a hot spring shower afterwards was the best medicine for my cold (especially considering I didn't bring my first-aid kit with me, so the hot spring was all I had).
From Khirganga, we headed down to Tosh to meet up with some other friends. And once again, we spent our days exploring new waterfalls and sights around the village.

Now I'm back in Kasol, ready to depart for Manali tomorrow, and then continue North. I have about a month left in India before I head to Thailand, and now it seems like time is tight. I will likely have to sacrifice visiting a place or two, but I'm not thinking about it too much, and will just let the chips fall as they may. After 2+ months of traveling, I have started to understand how to get the most out of my trip, and not get caught up in the triviality of deciding what to do and where to go. I also have stopped getting shocked on a daily basis by situations and people I encounter. After all, it's India. And in India, sab kuch milega (everything is possible).

It's funny how in India, you continue to see the same people you saw or met somewhere previously on the trip, months later and hundreds of miles away. You never really say goodbye to other travelers in India, only "see you later." The exception to that is those travelers who are at the end of their trips, and are heading home soon. That is something to which I can not relate, as I can't even picture getting on my plane back to Israel, and subsequently, New Jersey. And while I am leaving India soon, I do plan on returning to explore the South of India after my stint in Southeast Asia. So to India, I will also not be saying goodbye, but instead, "see you later."

Taking My Time

The following was written on May 20th, in transit between Rishikesh and Dharamsala:

5 days ago, Daniel and I arrived in Rishikesh, for what we expected to be a relaxing time after our trekking in Nepal. And while we did relax plenty, this past week was not without its excitement as well. Our first day consisted of exploring the city, enjoying internet speed that would make a Nepali's head explode, and eating Shabbat dinner at the Chabad House. The excitement began on Day 2, when we were enjoying our morning chai on our balcony, overlooking the Ganges River. Daniel spotted a monkey on the roof of the building next to ours, and enticed him to come over with the chocolate chip 'Hide & Seek' cookies we were eating. The monkey climbed up to the balcony next to ours, and waited for his treat. Daniel, the hero, decided that he wanted a picture, and approached the monkey with his camera. Monkey didn't like this, and quickly showed us his snarling teeth. At this point, I got into defensive mode, as Daniel quickly ran into the room, leaving only me and Mojo (we'll call the monkey Mojo) out there to work things out. I was anticipating an imminent attack, and just wanted to get Mojo away. So I grabbed another cookie, waved it in front of his face so he saw what it was, and then threw it down onto the roof of the building next to ours, where Mojo came from. Mojo didn't like this. I could tell because now his mouth was open completely, showing off all of his teeth, and not in a "look Mom, no cavities!" kind of way. I quickly grabbed the plastic chair out on the balcony, and held it up in the air between me and Mojo, ready to defend against any swipe of his claw, or even a full leap (and subsequent eating of my face). At this point, Daniel came back outside, with his flute in hand, as if it would help him for even an instant against a monkey attack. Perhaps subdueing Mojo with a sweet melody would've calmed him, but unfortunately neither of us can make any such sweet melodies with the flute. Fortunately, Mojo was more bark than bite, and after throwing a little water at him (a helpful tip from our British neighbors), he climbed back down to the other building. Regardless, we still entered the room in a hurry and locked the door. My hands were shaking for the next 15 minutes, and it took 2 cigarettes to calm my nerves. During this time, while I reflected upon what just happened, I told myself that this was surely to be one of many monkey incidents I will experience on my trip, and began to mentally prepare myself for how I would handle the next one.

As an aside, this was not my first traumatizing experience with a monkey. As a child, in Israel, we used to go to the zoo quite often, and the monkeys were always my favorite. On one trip, with my brother, my 2 cousins, and my grandmother, I came to the monkey cage with some sliced up carrots in hand. A small monkey climbed down to me, and I extended my hand with a carrot in it. I was 7 years old or so at the time, and the American wiseasseyness influence was already strong with me. As the monkey grabbed the carrot with his little paw, I said "Here you go. Just kidding!" and pulled it away. I repeated this 2 more times, each time the monkey trying to grab the carrot with all his might. But his paw was just too small, and even against my 7-year-old hand, he wasn't able to win this tug-of-war battle. Despite his size and age though, he was still smarter than me, and I learned this very quickly. While I was focused on his feeble attempts to grab the carrot, he sneakily reached his other hand through the fence, grabbed a handful of my hair, and gave a powerful pull. I screamed in pain, dropped the carrot (which he quickly scooped up), and backed away from the fence, crying. And at that moment, when I was feeling both shame and physical pain, and needed some comfort and support from my family, I was greeted instead by uncontrollable laughter from my cousins, my brother, and even my grandmother. It made the hurt that much worse. But, looking back, it also made the whole event that much more memorable, and I'm sure if I was in their place, I would've peed my pants laughing. But enough about monkeys. For now...

Daniel and I spent two more days walking around Rishikesh, swimming in the Ganges River (upstream from where they burn the bodies) and exploring some waterfalls on the outskirts o the city. We also spent many hours in the various waterfront cafes, eating delicious food and meeting many more travelers. At first I was quite surprised to meet as many Americans as I did, but being that Rishikesh is considered the Yoga Capital of the World, it made a little more sense.

So day 4 arrived - our last full day in Rishikesh - and I already slept through my alarm 2 days in a row and missed the 7:30AM Yoga classes. But the night before we were finally able to rent 2 mopeds, so there was plenty to see and do that day. We started off by driving around the city, exploring areas we hadn't been to before. We also took the opportunity to visit the renowned Maharishi Mahesh Yogi ashram, where The Beatles stayed for a few months and wrote much of the White Album. There was quite a scuffle with the guard watching the gate there, but I'll keep that story out of this blog to avoid incriminating myself and Daniel. We then rode a few kilometers past the opposite side of Rishikesh, where we hiked up to another waterfall. There, we found a group of Indians relaxing in the river. They were on vacation from Delhi, and enjoying a bottle of whiskey they brought from home (no alcohol is sold in Rishikesh), and were very eager to have us imbibe with them. After finishing off the bottle, we rode (cautiously) to the waterfall we visited the day before, and took a walk down the river. This walk turned into a metaphor for my trip. Because I was walking down the river barefoot, I had to be very careful where I stepped in the water, as there were many odd-shaped rocks underneath. But as we walked down, we kept a steady pace, and I was only able to choose what my next step would be within a second, without looking further ahead to determine if I was taking the best path down the river. As I have attempted on this trip to live in the moment, only making decisions that affect my immediate plans, with no regard for the near future, I was walking down that river and only worrying about that next step. So that was a moment of (whiskey-induced) enlightenment for me, and I'm hoping there will be many more, with or without the whiskey influence, along the way.

After this hike, we rode on our mopeds to another, bigger waterfall, where we hung out with some locals. The next day, I woke up early and actually went to a Yoga class. My first attempt at Yoga. It was nice and relaxing, though challenging at times. I will surely try it again at some point, when I regain the feeling in my lower back. Just kidding. I'm already prepared to try another attempt at the One-Legged King Pigeon pose, but this time I'll stretch a little more beforehand.

And so now we are on our way to Dharamsala. I'm sitting on the floor of the train, between the cars, with my legs hanging outside the open door, writing in my notebook. It is quite exhilirating, though frightening when another train comes whizzing by in the other direction, with no warning. While I'm writing about my time in Rishikesh, I'm also reflecting upon my entire trip, and what I've seen and done so far. And for the first time in the 1.5 months that I've been traveling, I have departed for my next destination without any urgency to leave my current location. That's made for a nice change of pace, since I had felt a bit pressed for time up until now, and can really feel the difference now that I'm in no rush to get anywhere else. Rishikesh was a great experience, and I'm expecting that as I continue North, it will only get better, and I will learn to appreciate India, and traveling in general, more and more.