Colour and shadow in Amritsar: 24 hours in the Sikh capital

Crossing the border from Himachal Pradesh into Punjab, the haze in the

sky increases to become brown-grey smog; shadowy bullock carts loom out of the murk and then fade away as a truck belching diesel takes its place. 

We are travelling to Amritsar on the weekend that smoke from the burning crop stubble in the Punjab has combined with vehicle emissions in Delhi to create an air pollution horror story in global media. Will the murk and gloom affect our view of the Golden Temple, we wonder? 

Five hours after leaving McLeod Ganj - our temporary hill town home where the smoke has obscured our views of the Dhauladar Range for the last two weeks - the Suzuki Swift taxi drops us in a huge multi-storey car park around lunchtime. Driver Anu herds us down to ground level, and points us off into the light traffic with vague instructions about finding our way through Amritsar’s heritage pedestrian precinct.

The colour of the city hits us, bright against the dun pewter sky: deep red sandstone pavers and colonial buildings; brilliant citrus sequinned fabric lengths flow down the front and side displays of shops and onto the women around us; primary coloured turbans bob on the heads of grave bearded gentlemen; polished brass pots on the bikes delivering milk to the dhabas (breakfast and lunch shops). 

A big(gish) day out #2: rocking on the rattler

On the Kangra Valley rattler

“Yes, all our rooms are empty,” said the man on reception at the Himachal Pradesh Forestry Dept guesthouse.

“Then can we have two rooms for tonight?” asked our friend Sachin.

Head waggle from reception man followed by, “No, we are not allowed to take guests - not during the election campaign.”

We retreated in the face of such government weirdness and spent the night in Mr and Mrs Puran’s homestay in their family compound in the neat little village of Nagrota Suriyan 2 km from Maharan Pratap Sagar (see previous post).

A big(gish) day out #1: ancient gods and modern wetlands

McLeodganj is the easiest place to live in - so it was time to step out of the comfort zone, loop down the winding roads from our deodar covered ridge and see what the rest of Himachal Pradesh has to offer. 

The solid walls of Kangra Fort

At 7.30 am one recent hazy morning, we jumped into the Suzuki Maruti taxi with our friend Sachin and his mate Sonny behind the wheel (and a spare battery in the passenger foot well) and headed down the Kangra Valley, following the Beas River.

First stop was the stone pile of Kangra Fort, defensively perched high on a 100 metre arrete between two rivers and only accessible across a narrow tongue of land, and even then only by crossing a defensive ditch and passing for 200 metres under a crenelated curtain wall pierced by arrow slits.

The people speak: electioneering in the world’s largest democracy

[NB most of this post is only really relevant to the downtrodden exploited victims of a corrupt political oligarchy, that is, the average Queensland voter.]

I don't know what it says but voters stuck in India's usual
dreadful traffic congestion will have plent of time to read
all the political messaging.

A state election is looming in a largely rural state with a small for size population; the death grip on power has see-sawed between the two main parties for the last few terms; both large parties are despised and possibly corrupt but they are throwing everything into their campaigns; the smaller parties and independents are struggling to match the big money promises. 

Sound familiar?

But it isn't Queensland - it is Himachal Pradesh which is going to the polls on Thursday 9 November. And the state election campaign has taken over the airways, every chai stall, every village, and every roadway. 

On the kora: walking in circles in McLeod Ganj

Om Mani Padme Hum in Tibetan characters is carved on most stone
  offerings placed along the kora. Chanted and written it is the
heart mantra of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, emanation of
the Buddha of Compassion.

Tsuglakhang Temple is the heart of the Tibetan diaspora, and circling that heart is the kora. 

Strung out along forested ridges in this ex-hill station town, McLeod Ganj, home of the Tibetan government-in-exile, in no way resembles Tibet, but the old ways of Buddhist devotion are maintained. Clockwise circumambulation - or kora - around a revered site like the Tsuglakhang is a popular devotional practice that combines a daily constitutional with walking meditation. 

Getting to enlightenment - how to do the Dalai Lama’s teachings

Grabbing a good spot at Tsuglagkhang

People come from all over the world to listen to His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama teach in the Tsuglagkhang Temple in McLeod Ganj. This is the exiles’ concrete equivalent of Jokhang Temple in Lhasa, and it is the hub of the world for Tibetan Buddhists for a few days every October when HHDL comes home from travelling and teaches to his home crowd and many fervent students like me.

You won’t find out from this post how to achieve liberation from samsara, but there are things it helps to know to make your teachings experience easy and more enjoyable.

What you take

A cushion, a mug, an FM radio and headphones, an exercise book and pen. And to get your spot in the temple, you need a texta pen, a flattened cardboard box, a roll of packing tape. 

Don’t take your phone or a camera - you can’t take them in with you and you will have to leave them at a deposit office.

Partial gear failure #2: digestive system

Kullu Valley people are rightly proud of their apples.

After surviving a month’s altitude sickness and the night mini bus from Leh to Manali that follows the switchback, dangerously unmade road over snow-swept Rohtang La (bone-shaking, exhausting and spectacular,  Lonely Planet’s usual hyperbole; I’d accept unhygienic, tiring and cramped), I thought I was going to bound out into Himachal Pradesh’s Kullu Valley like a new being.

Not quite.

The snow on the pass transformed to pouring rain by the time we got to Old Manali and the Dragon Inn so we and our bags were soaked. Whether it was the soaking or the veg burger for lunch, I had typical travellers gastric upset by the end of the first day. 

Into thin air - hiking the Markha Valley

“There is a griffin vulture.”

Stanzin hands us the big binoculars and we stand for a long time in the middle of the arid valley path, beside the tumbling stoney river, watching the wide wingspan cut the bright blue sky and the zigzag mountain range tops. 

Chotak the porter points to another part of the sky - he has picked up on our excitement and being a local wants to show off his valley - he has spotted a lammergeier circling even higher.

It’s the third day of the Markha Valley hike and we are having the best time. 

The Sham Valley is the real deal

When I signed up to do the Sham Valley trek, also known as ‘the baby trek’, I expected a gentle 3-day amble along a river valley; a pleasant stroll through a Ladakhi Dovedale with stepping stones and shady willows.

I organised to go with a female guide from the Ladakhi Women’s Travel Company who I hoped would hold my hand and gently encourage my confidence to return after my recent brush with bad altitude sickness.

That’s not quite how the Sham Valley trek turned out. The ‘baby’ trek’s dusty rocky paths cross 5 passes in 3 days - and Lazes, my young guide, was blunt about telling me what to do.

La La Ladakh

Author's note: there are no photos loaded to illustrate this post because of Ladakh's woeful lack of internet capacity. See point 3 of this article. Sorry about that.

Simon: What are you going to write about Ladakh?

Me: I just can’t get my head round this place.

The reason I can’t work out my reaction to Ladakh, and its main city Leh, is because of its weird juxtapositions.

Peace and war

Ladakh is where the nuclear-armed forces of India, Pakistan and China stare each other down over a disputed border. The uneasy truce often descends into stone throwing, armed incursions and threats of annihilation. 

Last seen in Lhasa

Canggu nunnery: nuns prepare mantras

We got a couple of extra days in Lhasa because we didn't complete the Kailash kora - I think we put the time to good use. 

We wind through the back alleys to Ramoche Temple, a tantric university where lamas come to learn to lead chanting, to sing internal complex tonal harmonies and manage the rituals of their own monasteries. 

Gear failure No. 1: lungs

Kailash: worth the effort

I had thought I might write a post or two about the inevitable gear failures that always happen. (I’ve already bitched on endlessly about how my boot soles peel at inopportune moments.)

I hadn’t anticipated that the first bit of equipment to fail would be my respiratory system. 

Yup, sadly Altitude Sickness scotched my intentions to hike the kora around Mount Kailash. I got as far as the first valley but, as elderly fat Hindu ladies in bedroom slippers sprinted past me, my oxygen levels plummeted, I started to cough, my legs stopped working and we all turned round and came back.

Peak Practice - at Everest Base Camp, Tibet

Interested in getting to Everest Base Camp? Don't want to hike for days to Namche Bazaar? Don't like dodgy mountain hygiene or the risk of avalanches? Like to sip a hot drink in comfort while viewing the Mother of Mountains?

At the end of the bus route

Biggest travel tip ever: if you can get into Tibet (ok, it’s a big IF), get a comfy car, drive along good roads to Rongbuk Monastery, stay in the guest house which serves great lemon/ginger/honey tea, and take the shuttle bus to Everest Base Camp. Look down the valley. 

In good weather, there is Everest/Quomolunga looking as if it is 10 minutes stroll beyond the glacier moraine.