Farewell India (for now)

With only about 12 days before I was planning to fly to Bangkok, I found myself pressed for time in India considering what I still wanted to do and see before I left. After taking only 1 day to rest after the motorcycle journey, we left Manali the next evening on a 22-hour minibus ride to Leh. Although I was in awe, staring at the breathtaking scenery, and our shadows falling on the desert sand beside us as we rode along, 22 hours is still way too long for a minibus ride, and I was already starting to dread the thought of taking the same route back. But I had time to worry about that later. For the moment I had only about a weeks worth of time in Leh, so there was no time to waste.

Our first real activity in Leh was taking a jeep up to the Khardung La Pass, which claims to be the highest motorable road in the world at 5,359 meters, and then riding (decrepit) bicycles 40 km downhill. Not considering the extreme change of altitude, I arrived in shorts, only to be greeted by hail and snow as the jeep climbed the mountain. After riding down for a half hour or so, back into normal temperatures, I decided that I wanted this experience documented on video. Holding my Flip video camera in 1 hand, I continued riding, filming the road ahead, and the beautiful views of the epic-sized Himalayan mountain range spanning across the entire horizon. This left only one hand steering, and controlling the front brake. As my friends were stopped up ahead, I decided to attempt a skidding stop. Unfortunately, it was on a patch of sand, with only the front brake, and I flipped over the handlebars. As my friends watched astonished, I lay on the ground laughing hysterically, and immediately yelled "I got it on video!" (To my dismay, the video didn't capture the fall as my camera shut off earlier in the ride while I rode over some bumps) After washing off my cuts and scrapes, and covering my half-broken fingernail, we continued the fun looping journey back down to Leh, with no further mishaps other than Amir flying off his bike when attempting to go off-road. He suffered no injuries though, and within another hour we were back in Leh, discussing what was next.

2 days later, I embarked on what was referred to as the "Baby trek" with some friends from the beginning of my trip that I ran into in Leh. Now don't let the name "Baby trek" mislead you, as it did to me. "Baby" refers to the number of days the trek should last, and not to its difficulty level, or lack thereof. Starting a trek at 3,500 meters does not give your body time to adjust to climbing at that altitude, as we did in Nepal starting at 700 meters. Additionally, we were dealing with cloudless skies, a scorching sun, and temperatures in the 90s. I was happy to conclude the trek after 3 days, and return to Leh. My last two days before flying to Delhi (I decided there was no way that I was going to do the 3-day return trip via bus(es)), we headed to Tso Moriri Lake, where an annual nomad festival was being held. The lake was stunning, reflecting the surrounding mountain views on its surface. My friends ran into the frigid waters for a dip, as I took pictures and videos. With our crew splitting off, after nearly a month of traveling together, including the bonding motorcycle trip, we celebrated with a bottle of whiskey, music, and laughs late into the night.

Returning to Delhi after over 3 months in India allowed me to see the city in a different light, and I found new things to appreciate in this big city, particularly outside of the Main Bazaar. The daytime heat and humidity was a bit restricting, and for the first time on my travels it was absolutely essential to get a room with AC. In Delhi I reunited with a few friends and really enjoyed my time there. But for weeks I already had Thailand constantly on my mind (beaches, hammocks, fruity drinks with pink umbrellas, etc.), and I knew I'd be meeting up with friends from India there, friends from home, and my cousin and brother, which was more than enough cause for excitement.

And more than that, I was just ready for the newest chapter of my journey...

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...

I love the road beneath my wheels,

the power at the tip of my fingertips, the humming of the engine between my legs, and the wind blowing in my face. But sometimes, the road is no more than boulders, rocks, mud, and flowing streams of water, the power of the Enfield gives me a stronger and less-safe push forward than I would like, the vibrations of the engine make my feet numb, and instead of wind blowing in my face, it's dust flying into my eyes, causing an eye infection, which is what I awoke to discover on the morning of Day 3.

As we awoke, for the first time with no alarms, we casually explored the village of Sangla, I found some antibiotics for my eye, and in the afternoon we enjoyed a leisurely 2-hour ride to Chitkul. Day 4 was also meant to be a relaxed day. In the morning, a girl we met the day before, who was riding with 2 guys, asked us if she could continue with us, as she was pressed for time. So we left 7 people, and within an hour Lior's bike started giving him problems. In the 1.5 hours we waited, Amir took the opportunity to weld another broken part of his bike. We were then able to ride 3 or 4 more hours with no further problems. And then, an hour before reaching our destination, Lior's accelerator cable ripped. Missing 1 small part, and having to ride up to the nearest mechanic to find a replacement and then back down to the bike, it took nearly 2 hours until the bike was fixed. We arrived at Kalpa at 6:30pm, riding the last half hour in a light rain. Once again, our day turned out to be much longer than we expected. And for our new rider, (girl) Lior, this was quite a change of pace from riding with the 2 experienced riders she was with before. Over an awful dinner, we decided we would spend an extra night in Kalpa. So on the 5th Day, we rested. This worked well for me, as my stomach problems had only worsened since we left Manali.

In the morning, we rode down to Reckong Peo to get our Inner-Line Permits, necessary for driving on our route on the sensitive Indo-China/Tibet border, and then I went to find a doctor. A doctor there wasn't, but a hospital there was. Visiting an Indian hospital was quite an experience, though it was no help for my stomach problems, nor for the leg pains I started feeling the night before. And this was not the kind of hospital where I'd be willing to get blood work done, so I decided to grin and bare it.

On the morning of Day 6, we awoke to see that the beautiful mountain view we had become accustomed to, had been covered by thick clouds of mist. We got ready to leave, but every time the skies cleared up, a new mist cloud rolled in moments later, bringing with it a light rain. By 9, we decided we couldn't wait anymore, as we had a long ride ahead, and we departed Kalpa. Driving at a pace rivaling that of a small child, with visibility no more than a few feet ahead, we descended to Reckong Peo. Within 20 minutes, on a steep 180 degree turn, Amir avoided a low-speed collision with a jeep, crashing his bike into the ground and breaking his headlight. A few minutes later, we continued on without any further incidents, and with only a few short breaks, we arrived in Nako in the late afternoon. We walked to the Nako lake, where Amir braved the cold water to take a dip, and then we hiked up to a viewing point that made it clear to me why so many friends of mine insisted that I get to Nako. At night, we sat together and examined our map, counting days and dates, and determined that we needed to get a hustle on. With the Dalai Lama's birthday approaching in 3 days in Tabo, and his stops planned in villages nearby, we knew that we'd have trouble finding places to sleep in the area. We didn't finalize plans, but prepared ourselves to possibly have to sleep in less-than-ideal conditions if we had to.

On Day 7, we rode through the morning without a hitch, arriving in Tabo for lunch. Lunch took longer than expected, and at 3 we left, with questionable amounts of gas in our tanks for the distances we planned to cover before the next gas station. Taking a detour into the Pin Valley, we arrived in Mud, bypassing Danker, in an impressive 3 hours. As we arrived, Amir felt there was a problem with his front tire, and after 10 minutes, it was visible that air was leaking. Since we still had an hour or so of sunlight left, and not wanting to be delayed in the morning, we decided to change the tire right way. This proved to be more difficult than we thought, and an hour later we were still working, with hardly any light out, and occasional rock blasts across the valley forcing us indoors. When the inner tire was removed, we inspected it only to discover that it wasn't even punctured. The valve was leaking air, and we were quickly able to remedy this. But we had already removed the tire and the inner tube (the bulk of the work), so it didn't really matter at this point. Our next fun discovery was that the new tire pump we had bought wasn't worth the $9 we spent on it, and couldn't fully inflate the tire. Leaving Benami and Amir to finish the job, I went to shower, only to discover on my return that they had lost 1 of the 4 nuts that holds the front tire onto the bike. It was futile to search through the gravel it fell into in the dark, so we decided we would try in the morning.

So on the morning of Day 8, after searching for over an hour, with the help of some local kids, Amir's bike was left with a half-inflated tire that was only three-quarters attached to the bike. In other words, it was unrideable, especially on the rocky road that leads out of the Pin Valley. Catching a ride to Kaza, 50km away, Amir and Lior took the half-inflated tire and one of the nuts, along with our 4 empty gas cans, hoping they would return with all missions completed so we could continue the following day. Benami, Keren, and myself decided to take a ride to Dhankar, which we were told was another must-see village in the Spiti Valley. 50km from Mud, including an 8km climb from the valley, we reached the beautiful village of Dhankar, where security forces were posted all along the way, as the Dalai Lama was scheduled to make a stop there for the afternoon. All along the uphill road, all of the neighboring villages had set up huge banners welcoming the Dalai Lama. We parked our bikes about 1km downhill from the village, and walked up, awaiting the Dalai Lama's arrival by the monastery in Dhankar. 30 minutes after waiting in the heat, the Dalai Lama's convoy arrived. 15 cars in total, with a very modest sedan that the Dalai Lama himself rode in. Of course, there was a very large commotion over his arrival. He entered the monastery, at which point we decided this was a good time to go, and we began our ride back to Mud. 2 hours later, we were back in Mud, making record time. My arms, and the back of my hands, were quite sunburned as I had not applied sunscreen on in the morning, and I knew I'd be paying for that oversight over the remaining days of our trip. But for the 4 hours of riding, I set up my music playlist to play, in order, Led Zeppelin I - IV, and Houses of the Holy, and enjoyed it tremendously. Maybe that's why I didn't notice my hands and arms turning bright red throughout the day. Oh well.

Day 9 was also a short day, as we only had a 50km ride to Kaza, where we refilled on gas (the last gas station before Manali), and then had a pleasant 1-hour ride to Kibber Village (which used to claim to be the highest village in the world), another must-see stop. On the way, we also took a quick detour to Key, where the Key Monastery is cozily nestled into the side of the mountain, making for quite a view. At Kibber Village, we ate lunch, and as the rest of the group went to walk around, I took a much-needed nap. That night, we sat around and discussed what was to come. According to our schedule, we had 2 more days planned for trip, but we were well aware that the last two days would be long, hard days that involved climbing up to very high mountain passes, and then back down. Fingers crossed, once again, we left Kibber Village early on the morning of Day 10, hoping we would (all) make it to Manali in 2 days, without any (more) major motorcycle problems...

Spiti & Kinnaur: A Motorcycle Diary

Prologue to the Prologue
For the first time in my life, I made an attempt to keep a daily diary of what I was doing in my life. I would refer to this as a journal, but I feel that when taking a motorcycle trip, it's acceptable to call it a diary (a la Che Guevara). Due to some days being incredibly exhausting, I did not actually write everyday. And since I am not a professional writer, transcribing this now from my diary means some parts are written in the present tense, some in the past, and some in a tense I'm not sure of. So please, bear with me.

Prologue
There are 6 of us that embarked on this journey; 4 guys (Benami, Lior, Amir, and myself), each with his own bike, and 2 girls (Keren and Hadasa) who occasionally rotate which motorcycles they're on, often because the more exhausted bikes need less weight on them. We're riding Royal Enfield 500cc Custom motorcycles. The bikes, along with the gear and passengers, weight about 400 kg each. Of the 4 drivers, 3 of us, including myself, learned to ride a motorcycle only a few days before we left on our trip. And despite getting the hang of it very quickly, I was only comfortable with taking this trip because our 4th rider, Benami, was knowledgeable about bikes, and I knew that to handle the terrain we would be riding on an experienced biker was needed. It only took one day of riding around Manali for the group to delegate me as the last rider in our convoy, as I clearly have a tendency to ride faster than the group would like. This reminded me of winter ski trips with my family as a child, when I would race down the mountain as fast as I could, because that’s what was fun to me. And after yelling at me a few times, I was always forced to be the last skier in order to slow down my pace. I guess I’ve just always had a thing for the adrenaline rush that goes along with high speed sports and activities. Additionally, after we all received our bikes, we decided that all expenses of the trip related to our motorcycles would be split amongst the entire group, in order to be fair. It was a Communist system of sorts, which ensured that any problems with a specific bike would be shared, monetarily, between all of us.

The typical route for this trip, stopping at all the most beautiful sites/villages, takes 9 days if done in a jeep. Because my time in India is running out soon, and I still want to reach Ladakh, I will be very happy if we finish it in 9 days. But I am not so hopeful, and expect a lag of a few days, which is still ok. I've met countless people, both tourists and Indians, who have done this trip, in jeeps, local buses, and a few who did it on motorcycles. The latter, of course, claimed their method of transportation to be the best. And when I found this group who were planning to rent bikes for the trip, I knew there was no way I was going to miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And even more encouraging than all of the personal recommendations I heard, I became truly inspired by a quote of Rudyard Kipling's (the author of The Jungle Book) I read in my Lonely Planet guide book. On his first visit to the Spiti Valley, the beautiful sights he saw led him to proclaim, "Surely the gods live here; this is no place for men." And so on the morning of July 5th, 2009, we began our journey, fingers crossed that we would arrive back in Manali safely, despite our, as one of the Indian motorcycle mechanics put it, "lack of experience."

The 2 Days That Aged Me 2 Years
Of the 4 hours I laid in bed, I probably got only 1 full hour of sleep the night before we embarked on our motorcycle journey. My sleep problems were not because I was anxious about the trip (which often happens the night before something exciting), but rather because I was suffering through some stomach cramps from a bad pizza I ate the night before. So at 5am, we woke up, packed our bikes, and by 7 we were on the road. We knew our first day was to be our longest - approx. 8-10 hours, or so we thought - so we wanted to waste no time. And other than 1 flat tire and a few extraneous stops, we had made good headway 5 hours into the ride. Bear in mind; I was riding on 1 hour of sleep, and every stop we made I took the opportunity to lay down, put my head on my bag, and close my eyes, even if only for 2 minutes. Fortunately, my exhaustion was not a problem while riding. The combination of the manual transmission on the bike and the more-often-than-not unpaved dirt road ensured that I remain alert, whether my brain wanted to or not. Plus, most of the ride I had music playing (don't worry, in one ear only), and that also helped me stay focused, as it did on the Annapurna trek in Nepal. And, inaudible to anybody else, I loudly sang along with the music playing, behind my bandana that prevented dust, dirt, and even small pebbles from entering my mouth while riding. About halfway through the day, we approached the opening to a very large tunnel, which at the time we didn’t realize was also very long. We all stopped our bikes before entering, stared into the darkness ahead, looked at each other, and proceeded. But not a single one of us thought to A) remove our sunglasses, or B) turn on our headlights (which we had not done once yet). As we entered the tunnel, it was almost pitch-black. Benami and Amir kept riding, but Lior was completely blinded. Instinctively, he rode up close to the curb, and in the process stalled out. I took my glasses off, holding them in my mouth, and rode my bike behind his to light up his way. We made our way out of the tunnel, and spent the next 5 minutes laughing at our stupidity. Another lesson learned, but at least now we knew how to turn on our headlights.

As the afternoon sun began to heat up, so did our bikes. Every time one of the bikes stalled from exhaustion, we had to take a break to let them rest and cool down. And these breaks became more and more frequent. But stubbornly, we were determined to reach our destination, oblivious to what lay ahead. And what lay ahead of us was an uphill climb to a mountain pass on a dirt/rock/boulder-road. After stalling out (1 of many times), I caught up with the rest of the group a couple of hundred meters uphill. As it turns out, in the middle of the ride, Amir's exhaust pipe simply blew out of place. And by that, I mean it completely disconnected from the engine, and was hanging off the side of the bike. (He actually kept riding like this for a minute before Benami was able to stop him and point it out). We began to jimmy-rig it back into place, and planned to use a thin metal cable (the only thing we had that might've stood a chance against the bike's heat) to hold it in place. Just as we reached the final stage, a truck drove up, and we took the opportunity to load the bike up and send two people to the next village with a mechanic. So now we were 3 bikes and 4 passengers, and we still had quite a way to climb, with bikes that were begging us to call it a night. That was not an option though, since we were in the middle of nowhere, and so we marched on. Within 10 minutes, Lior and I both had our bikes fall over, simultaneously. Lifting them up, and getting them started on the steep incline we were on, was a task we were only able to accomplish because of how desperate we were to find a place to sleep. Not a minute passed before I once again knocked my bike over, this time out of pure exhaustion. 10 minutes later, Lior did the same, only in doing so his front brake pedal broke, along with his mirror. As they replaced the brake pedal, I found myself a nice area to lie down and doze off. I was awoken probably 20 minutes later, by a cow only meters away, slowly walking up the hill in my direction. The bike was fixed, and we continued.

At this point, my bike said "No More!" I wasn't able to ride more than 3 minutes continuously, and I probably stalled out another 7 or 8 times before we reached the top of the pass. It was 7:30 now, and the sun had already set behind the mountains, but there was still some light in the sky. Of the 10 locals who were up at the pass, not 1 of them spoke English. The map we had was with Amir, on the truck, but we were fairly sure that there was a village only a few kilometers downhill. Not wanting to stay the 4 of us in the 1 available double-bed room, and also because of the frigid temperature at that altitude, we decided to ride down, and left quickly while there was still some light out. Sure enough, the village was there, 6km downhill, and we found a nice man who had a room available in his family's house. And by family, I mean him, his wife and their 3 kids, his brother with his 3 kids, and his parents. It was around 8pm when we arrived, 13 hours after we left Manali. I lay in the bed, and within minutes I was asleep. And that was the first day of our Kinnaur/Spiti trip. And even at the typical 10 hours it usually takes, it was supposed to be our longest day of riding. Now that I'm writing this at the end of Day 2, it's funny to look back at how naive and optimistic we were...

Day 2, like Day 1, began without a hitch. We woke up at 6:30am and were on the road by 8, as we still had roughly 40km to ride to meet up with Amir and Hadasa who rode on the truck the night before. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway for extra emphasis, we were very tired, and I mean both mind and body. But the first leg was almost all downhill, and was quite enjoyable. After 3 hours of riding, we reunited with Amir and Hadasa, ate lunch, and estimated we could ride the remaining 100km to our next destination in 4 hours, including all stops. After 20 minutes, we stopped at a roadside welder, to permanently fix Amir's exhaust. 20 minutes after they finished, we stopped at a mechanic to have him check out some leaking fuel on Amir's bike. And since we were already getting one bike serviced, we also had him check out Lior's faulty clutch. We didn't hit the road again until 5pm, but we were hopeful that we could cover the 70km to our next destination (or so we thought it was 70km) by 7:30, before sunset. The map indicated the road was a National Highway, and for the first hour or so, we were cruising in style. I mean perfectly smooth, paved roads, with 1 lane in each direction. We entered the Kinnaur Valley, riding on the road carved into the sides of the mountains, and all was glorious. But then, all of a sudden, the National Highway we loved so much, turned into a construction zone dirt road, for as far as the eye could see. Our pace slowed down, as the sun continued to inch closer and closer to the mountain peaks above. We reached a small village, where there were once again no guesthouses. So we continued on, to a village that was supposedly 9km away. After 30 minutes of riding, we asked how to get to our destination, which nobody was able to help with. The closest village with guesthouses was 5km back in the direction we came from, and then 18km uphill. The sun, and all traces of its light and warmth, were now gone. We had no choice but to make the climb, although our bikes were once again begging us to call it a night. We let the bikes rest and cool down for 20 minutes, while we mentally prepared ourselves for what we expected to be a 1-hour ride. It was 9:20pm when we started riding. 7km in, Amir's bike stalled out. We waited a few minutes and started again. 4km later, Amir's engine started smoking. This was a sign we needed to wait much longer than a few minutes. We were 6km away from our destination, it was almost 11pm, we didn't have any water, and the fate of Amir's motorcycle was uncertain. We all started thinking about the worst case scenario of sleeping outside for the night. There were 2 things though that were going our way; it wasn't bitterly cold out, and the full moon provided us plenty of light so the occasional passing car could see us and our bikes. We killed time while waiting by taking pictures, telling jokes, and smoking cigarettes. After 45 minutes, we decided to continue. It was a grueling 30-minute 6km climb, and at the first guesthouse we spotted, we parked our bikes, and thanked the heavens that we arrived. The day that began at 8am, ended at 11:30pm. 15.5 hours. And only 24 hours earlier, we were so relieved that we wouldn't have to go through anything close to another 13 hour day. After these 2 brutal days, we are no longer naive, or optimistic. We're now beginning to underestimate ourselves. That way, we can't end up disappointed when we don't reach our planned destination, or worse yet, stranded on the side of the road overnight.

To be continued...

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.

1 Month Down, ? Months to Go

Never in my life have I been in the uncomfortable situations I have found myself in on this trip (mostly cold showers, the sweltering afternoon heat, and 15+ hour bus/train rides), yet I've had nothing less than a full smile on my face every second of the past few weeks. The other day, as I showered under the cold water in the dark bathroom (yes, the bathroom - the shower and toilet are side-by-side), my headlamp resting on the sink, lighting up one corner of the ceiling, trying to keep my balance as I washed my foot to avoid stepping on the floor without my shower sandal, I thought about my trip so far, and what is still yet to come, and said to myself, "I'm the luckiest person in the world right now." Today marks one month exactly since I started my trip (not including my time in Israel). The bulk of my trip so far has been the 2-week Annapurna Circuit trek in Nepal (the decision to go there was made spontaneously at around 11am on 4/21 - that night we were on a sleeper bus to Delhi, and the next afternoon we were on a flight to Nepal), as well as the few days before and after it in Kathmandu and Pokhara. The trek was phenomenal. Every day brought us new views of the breathtaking Annapurna Mt. range. But the trek was very challenging as well, with the climax of the trek occurring on the 11th day, which started at 5am at 4,400 meters, climbing snow-covered mountains all day up to the Thorung La Pass at 5,400 meters, and then climbing down to 3,700 meters (common misconception: walking downhill is easier than walking uphill), finishing the day around 5pm. And as I saw on earlier days of the trek (with the day of crossing the Thorung La Pass being no exception), the more difficult the climbing was, the more beautiful the views were, and the experience felt that much more rewarding. And I can say without any hesitation that that day, May 3rd, was my favorite day of the trip so far, and will be hard to beat.

The amazing thing is, this past month of my trip is only a fraction of what my total trip will be, although I knew the Annapurna trek would be one of the biggest highlights. Now I'm on a detoured route to Northern India, with 2 guys I met on the trek. We stopped in Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha, before crossing (freely walking across) the border to India. I also just split off from the last of the original crew I was traveling with, which I felt was the step I needed to take to truly feel like I'm traveling alone. And while I am ultimately alone on this trip, I have spent the lion's share of my time with other people. I've met dozens of Europeans, Australians, Americans, and of course, Israelis. I've been traveling with Israelis so much, in fact, that I have found myself on a few occassions speaking English with a Hebrew accent, subconsciously. This is different from when I intentionally use the Hebrew accent, to assist in bargaining power and getting what is known as the "Israeli deal." The "deal" is different in every country and situation (food, lodging, shopping, etc.), but anywhere you go that Israelis have been to before (basically anywhere in the world except a few Middle Eastern countries), negotiation is always an option.

Tomorrow I head to Rishikesh, which is known as the "Yoga Capital of the World." I think I will get some much-needed R&R for a week or two while I'm there, as this past month has been a bit tiring with all the traveling around, as well as from the trek itself, which was far from what would be considered 'rest & relaxation.' I have roughly 2.5 months now before I head to Thailand at the end of July, which I think should be a sufficient amount of time to explore Northern India and do a few more treks. And I also learned something else while on my trek. A few weeks ago, my thought on this kind of traveling was that this is the best time/age of my life to be doing this kind of trip. And after meeting so many 50+ year-olds on the trek, I realized that it's never too late to see any part of the world, or climb any mountain. And I plan on doing just that, until the day my body simply can't take it anymore.

So here goes. India, Take 2.

P.S. I lost my notebook the day before the Annapurna trek, and decided mid-way through it to keep a video journal to somehow document the trip. The first video is on YouTube. I will link the subsequent ones on my Facebook profile. Nepal Annapurna Circuit Trek Video (Intro)