Long way to go

After two months in hot hot sunny southern India, I was totally unprepared for how cold (and rainy!) Dharamsala is. I arrived after another crappy overnight bus ride, one where every bump felt like a roller coaster; whipping around mountain hairpin-turns didn't help, either.

I originally looked for a room in MacLeod Ganj, the backpacker ghetto up the road from Dharamsala (no one actually stays in Dharamsala), but it was overpriced and full, so I headed up the mountain a bit further to Bhagsu, which was much more quiet--no honking!--and affordable. I like it a lot, actually.

My second day here I hired a local guide and went on a three-day two-night trek up into the Himalayas. Bhagsu is 1700m elevation, and on the first day we climbed to the top of Triung, a nearby mountain, elevation 2800m. It took about four and a half hours, going pretty quickly. There were a couple chai stalls interspersed along the trail, which we stopped at briefly (FUELED BY CHAI), but by the time we reached the top my legs were killing me.

As I crested the ridge of Triung there they were: the big-ass white mountains that I've been dying to see this whole time. I broke into a grin and started running towards them, like I wanted to hug them or something. So amazing. It was cloudy, started to hail soon after we got to the top, so I couldn't see the peaks, but wow, it was just an awesome sight.

Once it started to rain I huddled in a government shack over a smoky indoor firepit trying to get feeling back in my fingers and toes. Eventually the rain stopped and I pitched my one-person tent, positioned with the flap open onto the mountainside and Dharamsala below.

I had dinner at one of the three chai stalls on top of Triung; turns out you can pay 200 Rupees to stay on a cot in them overnight. I probably could have done most of the trek myself, I met a German girl who did, but I didn't want to risk getting lost or hurt alone on a mountain. Too old for that. Over dinner I also met a couple Spaniards and a Russian who were very nice, the Russian even did some fire dancing, lamenting how much she missed Goa.

Then it was time for bed, aka one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life. I had only a very thin mat between the cold cold ground and I, and it got down to 34 degrees Farenheight (thanks for the travel clock with thermostat, mom). I literally lay there waiting for it to get light out because even in my polar sleeping bag and wearing five layers I was too cold to sleep. Halfway through the night I decided there was no fucking way I was spending another night up there on the mountain; as my old friend Jen used to tell me, you can't be hardcore all the time. Lesson learned.

Finally it got light out, and I stumbled from my tent into a spectacular dawn. All the clouds were gone so I could see the mountain peaks so clearly. Breathtaking, or maybe that was the altitude. Ever since I got sick in Bolivia I've been susceptible to altitude sickness; I could already feel it up there.

I watched the sun crest over the peaks while sipping the best coffee ever. Maybe all food tastes better on a mountain you've climbed, or maybe I've just been in India too long and now actually like the taste of instant coffee. Who knows.

After taking down my tent, I headed with my guide up to the snow line, 3300m, another hour or so higher up. Lo and behold, once we got there, dug into a wall of snow in the side of the mountain was another chai stall. I swear, Indians will put a chai shop anywhere. So I had some chai, visited with a couple from Bombay and a couple from Boston that I had met on the trek up to Triung the previous day, as well as the solo German chick. Busy morning at the snow line!

Then I headed back down the mountain, cut my losses and told my guide that I wanted to go back to town. Hot shower and soft bed sounded like heaven. Plus, the second night was supposed to be spent in a cave above the snow line, and the mountain pass was snowed in; even with an ice pick it would have been too risky, and we didn't have shoe clamps like the time I climbed the glacier in New Zealand.

We took a different way back, not the main trail we'd taken up the mountain, and wow, going down was much harder on my knees (already so sore from sitting cross-legged for a week at the ashram) than going up. There were points along the cairn-studded mountain side I thought I'd never make it down, but it's all in the mind: left foot, right foot.

Stopping for breaks sometimes, I watched the thousands of white and yellow butterflies cross the mountain and valley. As I learned, April is way too early in the year to attempt a Himalayan trek, but it's the perfect time to watch butterflies fall like snow. And so many ladybugs!

Finally, after about three hours we made it back to civilization. Of course, power was out in the entire town, and the $3 budget hotel I checked into had rock-hard mattresses that hurt my already bruised from sleeping on the ground hips. The hot water heater in my bathroom took four hours to heat up enough for me to take a decent shower, too.

Needless to say, I wasn't in the greatest mood after the mountain. The night I spent up there I couldn't stop smiling, but the night I got back I was Sir Grumps-a-Lot. But I had promised myself a piece of Bhagsu cake at the end of the trek (more like a bar: bottom layer nutty buttery cookie, middle layer dulce de leche, top layer solid chocolate nom nom), so I went to the Original Bhagsu Cake spot. There, I ran into the Spaniards and Russian, and ate with them. They had gotten lost twice going down the way I went, and were also all very cranky. Perfect!

They next day, yesterday, I went with a couple of them to a morning open meditation at Tushita, a Buddhist retreat where I wouldn't mind comoing back to take a 10-day course sometime. Then we went to the Dalai Lama's temple, which was not quite what I expected but really amazing nonetheless. I hear whispers that he's in town, but no one I know has actually seen him.

There was a wonderfully peaceful energy to the place, though. I sat in a temple with three dozen praying monks, meditated for a while. They occasionally played music, including those ten-foot long low deep mountain horns that I've always associated with Tibet. I felt so lucky to be there.