This morning the sky is a sea of ​​blue.

A very welcome greeting on this special morning (which is actually not that special, after all, it is only about the first stage of the baby trek). Nevertheless, I am wide awake immediately, because despite the baby there is an exhausting task ahead of me. After all, we are high enough to accelerate the pulse. The map below (recorded during the day with my polar watch) shows the route.

It definitely looks like a lifeless desert and nothing else.

Baby Trek Stage1
Baby Trek Etappe1

The last one at the start

How could it be otherwise – I am again the last at the start. This fate has haunted me for years. The other trekkers I met last night - an American couple, a quite holy looking, probably already enlightened Indian woman - disappeared early.

The view from the terrace shows a great panorama. The sky has bowed to the earth.

Likir Valley
The Likir Valley - in all its glory

At breakfast only Lily, a Belgian who lost her husband a year ago, and Chin and I are left.

But Chin is going to take a look at the monastery first (which I already admired on the monastery trip), so I'm starting out with Lily. She won't go on the trek, but she will accompany me a bit. On the way she tells me her truly tragic story. Some time ago she spent a trek with her late husband in this area, but in the meantime he died unexpectedly. She now wants to say goodbye at the same place.

I cannot help her, nobody can, but as we know, listening is quite an effective means.

The monastery stays behind

A wistful feeling remains as I say goodbye to the guesthouse family. I will miss the warm friendliness of the family that has welcomed us into their circle. But that's just how it is when traveling - you always say goodbye again. Sad, wistful, presented with a gift of friendlyness ...

Buddha on the roof
The Buddha on his roof seat remains behind us
Valley near Likir
At the bottom of the valley, the area is still reasonably fertile
Likir Gompa
The monastery greets one last time
My friend Lily
Lily on the farewell tour

So far so good

Yeah, and then it's time to get going. In the beginning the ascent is still easy to manage, even for older men, but you notice the altitude of almost 3800 meters. I climb the first La (pass in Ladakhi language) and feel as if I' m master of the situation.

ascend to the first pass - not very exciting
The climb to the first pass - not very exciting
Chorten at the top
A first Chörten awaits me

So far so good. However, the following steep descent might not have been necessary. Knowing that every step down has to go uphill again, I make my way grumbling down into the deep valley.

Down to an unknown valley
A descent down to an unknown valley

The murmur of the mountains

It's getting burning hot now, the rocks all around seem to be charging up with heat, and once again I'm happy for my (genuine) Indiana Jones hat, which provides me with some shade. And of course the inevitable ascent arrives, and this time it gets really tough. I try to walk very slowly, but the heart rate monitor shows every few minutes that the upper limit has been reached.

So I stop every few hundred meters, listen, but there is absolutely nothing to hear (apart from the barely audible murmuring of the mountains).

Hot and tiresome
Hot and exhausting - alone in the desert
dead mute world
All around a dead dumb world

I am alone, all around only dead, fearsome world, I am the only breathing being (perhaps somewhere a lost snow leopard), it's a joyous phenomenon touching the heart. Strange, it is a feeling of complete freedom. As if I were in perfect harmony with everything in a long time.

Sometimes I sit down, drink a sip of water slowly, listening, observing the dead world around me. Silence. The world has stopped moving, has stopped breathing, has become a motionless work of art fused into stone and rock. At this moment I don't want to be anywhere else. And the clock should be stopped …

Then, filled with a strange bliss, I continue on my way. Up, down, it doesn't matter ... 

Please help me in keeping Ladakh clean

But the path offers more variety than one might expect. In the middle of nowhere – a recycling facility. One ( the trekkers?) is politely asked to properly separate paper, plastic and metal and deposit them in the respective containers. When you think of the garbage on Leh's streets, it's as absurd as it is incredible. But in fact, not even the smallest piece of rubbish can be found far and wide. It seems as if the message has arrived. My respect for so much faith in the reason of humanity … (Imagine Everest Base Camp – a single dump.)

Recycling plans in nowhere
Recycling facility in no man's land

A green oasis

And then out of nowhere - a green oasis. The lush green of the trees and shrubs indicates water. The path is lined with walls, but people can not be detected. The only sound is the barely perceptible bubbling of invisible water.

green oasis
A welcome spot for a break
walls and trees
Walls, but no people

Indian Talents

Of course, there are no signposts, and so one is occasionally faced with an unsolvable riddle when the path branches off in different directions. Then you have to consult old Indian experiences by finding out the direction where most footprints lead (which of course can go wrong), and tap the Apache head if the decision turns out to be correct.

At some point, houses appear on a hill in the distance. It must be Yangthang, my destination today.

However, the path irritatingly leads down into a gorge again, but - the stupid ones are lucky ones - a delicate Japanese girl named Yoko points me to the right direction, and so I reach the village after six hours, panting and sweating, man, these are really not baby stages!

Sometimes the impression arises as if the path leads into infinity
Sometimes you get the impression that the path leads to infinity.

Searching for a Homestay

I have to add that I met quite a large group of Israelis on the way. If they are looking for a place to stay in this tiny town, there remains not much left for me.

So let's go to the first guesthouse, but this soon turns out to be a mistake. Three gloomy looking guys discussing the price in Ladakhi (big mistake) receive me in their rather new looking guesthouse and offer me a room for 1000 rupees.

The room seems to be ok, but there is no bathroom and for a shower you have to pour a bucket of cold water over your tired head. But what annoys me most is the toilet or what the gentlemen mean by it. One walks around the house (at midnight an experience I can do without) and finds oneself in a crooked small building with two doors, in which there is only a hole on the ground. Actually nothing out of the ordinary, but the door can't be closed either, because the designer of the door didn't manage to mount the bolt in a way that it fits into the corresponding lock.

So you huddle over the hole in the floor while desperately trying to hold the door closed with your hand. I am tired and exhausted and have no desire for adventures of this kind. So I pack up my things again and search for an alternative. I sleep beneath a tree than in this establishment!

A few venerable old gentlemen show me the way to a guesthouse, similar to yesterday's, and as friendly.

I definitely feel right at home. This time a little boy of one and a half years is responsible for the evening entertainment. The grandparents look like a hundred, but they are probably just a few years older than me. Grandpa is constantly mumbling Buddhist words of wisdom from a book holding a prayer wheel in his other hand.

So many feelings of happiness and later a deep sleep ...

Son of the family
He provides entertainment in the living room

boy of the houseFamily eating on the floor

 

P.S. Matching Song:  Bishop Briggs - Dreams

And here the journey continues ...

 

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