I wish I had some photos of the drive up to the start of our second part of the walk. Sadly I was too terrified to get my camera out as we careered up an almost impossibly steep road, casually hewn out of what looked like a vast quarry, the side of it often disintegrating into a sheer and endless drop, hairpin bends taken at speed, and no apparent plan of slowing down for packs of cows or other cars. Watching Jai’s face turn ever greener (at one point he pronounced himself ‘the most terrified I’ve ever been’ and suggested they could stop and he’d walk the rest of the way up), I stoically reached into my bag for my Liquorice Allsorts. If this was to be my last hour on planet earth, and I didn’t have any treacle tart, they’d be a pretty good second. At least the driver hadn’t been imbibing with all the other men of the province – this being the final day of Holi, and one where a local sport is to get cheerfully drunk then lob water or rocks at passing cars. No worry of that here, I thought, looking up at the paper thin roof – we have rockfall of a different sort to worry about.
Supi, Saryu Valley
Of course we survived (these guys do this drive daily, one hand on the wheel, the other holding a phone) and we gratefully walked (somewhat crawled) the 200 metres up to our first homestay, aware that we were already high, high, high above sea level (2,000 metres to be precise). Our guides this time were quite different to Goodu and Bhupal. For a start they didn’t introduce themselves as guides until we got out of the car. However, having had a week of quite intense chat, we were happy for the contrast. One of the first things I saw upon arrival at the homestay was Mum’s diary entry. Imagine how we felt when reading that they’d done the same journey – just after the monsoon! The white and blue longbarn, which is more than 100 years old and called a berklay, would have once housed three families, with the kitchen and livestock underneath.
Our guides soon disappearing, Jai and I took ourselves off for a walk around the village, surrounded by bright green wheat fields, and where, as always, everyone was really friendly. With cows wearing tinkling bells, once again I was reminded of Switzerland, or, more specifically, Heidi – apart from the piles of plastic and other rubbish chucked into any stream or corner crevice. All we needed was a hunk of bread and some cheese and we could go off by ourselves (which might be necessary as by 6.30 that evening we’d still not seen any sign of the guides).
This was definitely the best food we had on the trip, the cook having once worked in a city restaurant. and on most days we’d also be given a tiffin to take on the walk. The first morning we took off for a little walk around the valley, passing more wheat fields, but this time with cannabis growing within them. (Not sure if we were given cannabis sauce, although Mum and Dad were – ‘strange dreams’ she recorded.) Watching the children walk to school, women drag water buckets up steep inclines and men manually hack stone on the roadside, we wondered how much life had changed here in the past fifty to hundred years. Electricity (and school) will be relatively new, but much probably won’t be that changed. Oh, except the internet. Our new guides were never off their phones.
This was now Day Seven of walking and, I won’t lie, Jai and I were getting a bit stir crazy at this point – partly because we weren’t finding the walks very challenging. We managed to extend this first day’s walk, but were back at the homestay by one, meaning there was a lot more of Prince Harry’s whining before bedtime at eight! I wished I’d bought some knitting or something else to do (a tip for anyone doing the trip). There’s only so much reading you can do – by this time I’d read five books and Jai had listened to two. However, it was all incredibly photogenic, so that kept me happily occupied for a lot of the time and I was very glad I’d bought a new camera for the trip.
Within Touching Distance of the Himalayas
‘Everything is worth it for this’ I wrote in my notes later the next day. Waking up to a clear side view of the Himalayas, (and not kept awake in the night by dogs this time) we set off on what turned out to be a deliciously challenging walk: 5km up what at times seemed like a vertical path. (What we couldn’t believe was that Mum and Dad had done the same walk, Dad already in his seventies!) Respect, Dad. For the first time I had to stop lots but, I figured, I might as well enjoy it. And luckily I still had some Liquorice All Sorts.
We walked through rhododendron groves, where suddenly they were bright pink instead of red for the first time, up paths hewn out of the rock and past women collecting leaves for cattle on the side of the mountain. Every year, the whole village makes the pilgrimage to the temple at the top (literally thousands of people, young and old).
When my sister, Bryony visited, she had to tramp through snow for the last 200 metres – but thankfully for us there was very little now. While we were sitting having lunch in the village camp below the temple we watched a shepherd and shepherdess herding their flock of goats and sheep (sometimes I find it hard to tell the difference). What a hard life for them – descending only a couple of times a year to sell their livestock. Later we passed them again and watched the shepherd shimmy up a tree to fetch tender leaves for his flock.
Jaikuni Camp, based at 5,0000 feet
Temple done, we trudged on up and down hills, through forests and fields, until… wow, a campsite lay before us, the view from which was nothing but the Himalayan mountains. Honestly, (and I’m smiling as I type this) it was one of the most extraordinary moments, and one that made the whole trip insanely worth it – even if it wasn’t more than worth it already.
Supper both nights we were in the camp was in a stone built hut which unfortunately filled with smoke each time they lit the fire. So we tended to have our tins of soup sitting here, looking out into the universe (as it felt). When we arrived I went to use the loo and found it filled with flies, so we opted to do our business en plain air. However, we didn’t want to risk going anywhere that would be in anyone’s path, so we’d go into the very steep woods, and literally hang off the edge of the vertical, before burying our stuff. ‘Perilous poos’ we named the experience. That first night, Jai and I went to bed playing the age-old, ‘if you could eat anything right now, what would you choose?’ Burger and chips, no sauce, was the winner.
The first morning in camp, Jai woke up in an awesomely grumpy mood, me having borrowed his thermals the previous night, making him too cold to sleep. Not even opening the tent doors to the pale blush of heavenly skies helped. Luckily however, he snapped out of it when, as I watched him throwing stones, I foolishly bet him £100 he couldn’t hit a tiny twig tree about 100 metres away. Not only did he hit it the first time, but when I couldn’t quite believe it, he hit it a second! Perhaps he should have been a cricketer, not a rugby player…
The day’s walk wasn’t particularly arduous, but oh so beautiful – I love mountains, especially when in a horseshoe seemingly surrounded by the Himalayas. We passed huge slopes of rhodadendrum trees, one of the guides (who’d got a bit friendlier by now!) showing us how to drink morning dew nectar from the bloom of one of them.
On the final morning I woke at four, read until five, then the storm came in at six. It’s quite something, scrambling down the backside of a mountain as thunder crashes and lightening flashes all around – not least when carrying poles that you’re convinced are lightening conductors!
It was really hard work, scrambling down slippery giant rocks and muddy paths, and we barely noticed a man who passed and stopped to chat quickly with the guides. Imagine our shock when, less than an hour later we saw him walking towards to the homestay, carrying both our bags (one on his head, the other on his back) having made it up the mountain and back in almost the same time it took us to descend. Quite extraordinary. We also passed a campsite where people who are trekking the Himalayas stay – which had epic views.
Distance 11km: Durr (meaning ‘meadow in a forest’)
We ended our last night on a quiet note, not least because our guides had disappeared again and there were continual power cuts. Also I hit my head hard (what turned out the be the first of three accidents, the second of which saw me falling flat on my face on the way back to the train station and getting concussed)… but it all adds to the story.
Sitting in our bare room, lit only by the torchlight from our phones, we had a real moment of wanting to be back at Khali – so were delighted when the morning finally rolled in on the back of another enormous storm. However, the night also produced on of my favourite moments of the holiday. ‘I’d go on holiday with you again in a heartbeat,’ I said to Jai, as much to fill the time as anything. ‘You too, Mum,’ he said instantly, filling my heart with such gladness. Three words, instead of just ‘great’. What a difference a fortnight together makes.
So, what did we learn from the experience? That being without the internet for ten days is really good, and it’s great to detox from alcohol and meat. (But that chapatis do keep you fat…) That we’ll never complain of being bored in our village again. That it’s an incredible experience, to go for ten days without seeing another Westerner – there are very few corners of the earth that remain totally unexploited. That Goodu is the most brilliant guide, especially for someone so young, and I have high hopes for his future success in life. And that our time with Bhupal shows you don’t need to speak someone else’s language to bond. (Such a lovely man). That everyone we’ve met was very welcoming – and so proud to show us their unique way of life. That it was an excellent plan to borrow Bhupal’s internet hot spot just the once (thank you). And that Jai is a most excellent person to travel with. So chill and happy nearly all the time (unless you deprive him of sleep).
Thanks for taking the risk of travelling with your mum, and here’s to the next time.
Thank you to everyone at Village Ways, for providing us with just the most extraordinary trip, and looking after us so very well. Special mention to Madhu Gorti, who was always available on WhatsApp and so solicitous of our wellbeing. It’s rare to find an organisation that you totally trust and are happy to put your faith in. These guys, I really do. Altruism is truly at the heart of everything they do.
And thanks, Mum, for the inspiration. We miss you.
Jess Morency 