Waking up feels like emerging out of a deep, muddy swamp, I hear the mumbled chants of the grandfather.
I slip into my clothes with a cloudy head, check my iPhone out of habit for incoming messages, in vain of course, because there is no internet access in this remote area. Very nice! This is called - even if in forced circumstances - Digital Detox. So let's detox a bit today and tomorrow. Let's see if the cure helps ...
The building, like most in Ladakh, is multi-storied. The different floors can be reached by stairs, some of them frightening, as in this case. My room is on the top of the roof, next to three others clustered around a small square in the open air. In a corner, well hidden, so that a nightly visit without a flashlight becomes an adventure, the toilet, which also serves as a kind of shower. The water is pleasantly warm, at least it was last night, as always heated by solar power.
How could it be otherwise, when I get down, there is only the family left in the living/dining room. The other trekkers are already on their way. But the family welcomes me with a friendly (or sympathetic?) grin, offers a wonderful breakfast, and while I eat, we manage to have a conversation. A bit bumpy and possibly with many misunderstandings, but what the heck. The mother, designated head of the homestay, talks about her life, about the difficulties, the daily toil, about the water that comes less and less from the mountains. She is also aware of the problems of climate change.
And once again, damn it, we Westerners have to realize that the real victims are those least responsible ...
The right Path
And so I, too, set out on my journey, delayed indeed, but enriched by many insights.
But returning to the hiking trail is quite a challenge. All I know is the approximate direction. The host of the homestay explains at great length the direction to take, somehow across the meadow, then near the cow to the left and after the bridge to the right, where I am supposed to descend into a ravine.
After some unsuccessful attempts and suppressed cursing, I seem to be on the right track after all. At the beginning there is a steep descent - the canes brought along are a blessing - to then reach a lively bubbling river lined with trees and bushes. A wonderful change after all the barren rocks. It fits my spirits, the sleep was long and deep, and I feel as if even Everest could not be a real challenge.
And already the first stop
The landlord also explained to keep to the left at a Chörten, which I somehow forget, and so the path leads me through crooked juniper trees to a restaurant, where I have a coffee and flirt with the landlady. These Ladakhi ladies are quite a challenge: here, as in Tibet, there's still polyandry, so with a little luck and charm I might be able to join the ranks of the numerous husbands. Well, maybe in the next life ...
The valley narrows again, so I can no longer get lost (I hope).
But further up - after I found the Chörten crossing - the path leads up again (what comes up, must come down or vice versa). I hear voices and meet two young Israelis struggling to find their way - despite Google Maps. Once again it becomes clear how much the modern gadgets are drying up our senses (and apparently our common sense). You just have to follow the path, there is no other direction… My God!
A few minutes later Yoko joins us (the Japanese girl who saved me from an unnecessary descent last night) and together we solve the problem of direction (which isn't one). The two boys then rush up the hill as if being hunted by the devil, while Yoko stays behind (I have my own pace, she says).
I also have my own pace, today very slow. Yesterday's average heart rate of 132 beats per minute was definitely too high, so I have to pull myself together. My Polar pulse watch is a real piece of luck: not only does it show me the heart rate, but it also stores the whole route via GPS signal, it computes the ascent and descent, the highest point, the RF zones, the calories burned.
It's getting hot again
The early morning clouds have dissipated, the sun is mercilessly burning holes into the world, it seems as if the rocks are being charged with heat. It might turn into a fierce fight with Mother Nature, but it doesn't, because these are exactly the conditions I love. So I follow the now well visible path upwards, only sometimes framed by a few puny bushes, whose names I would like to know, but once again have no idea. I am travelling with the absolute minimum of luggage, so there is no possibility to check it up in a book and since there is no internet access, you are pretty much screwed in terms of information supply ...
Trekking Indian Style
Somewhere along the way there's supposed to be a tea shop, but today it's closed, so nobody's there.
The only person around is a Ladakhi driver waiting for his Indian customers; he has taken lunch up to this meeting point so that nobody has to carry anything (I'm a bit surprised that Indian tourists take a step or two; in general they are motorized). He shares his apple with me, while I wonder about the fact that there is another waste separation facility here in this deserted wasteland (Paper - Plastic - Metal; please use me!) We already know this with appreciation.
And indeed, after a few minutes, a few heavily breathing and sweating creatures turn up, wrapped in the very newest and most modern outdoor clothes, (which at these temperatures can at best be called a stylish stubbornness), and let themselves sink to the ground moaning as if they had just climbed the summit of Mount Everest. It takes them a while to recover, but then everything must be done quickly. I admire the Ladakhi who puts up with his clients' arrogant behavior with a stoic face (and an occasional grin in my direction). Well, the Indians from the south, I am told, are by far the most hated clientele in Ladakh. Which I can certainly understand from today's perspective ...
Tea cooking on the La
Today's La leads quite high up to a windy pass where we are greeted by the usual prayer flags. In the background I can already see the next destination. From here on, the tour promises to be a joy. But the panoramic view into the mars-like mountain landscape is fantastic.
The two Israelis are having a picnic, one - Ro or Or, I can't remember - is already cooking tea. Well then, shalom! The other one, Arthur, apparently beaten with ADHD syndrome, can't sit still for a second, runs up and down the hill, desperately wants to make a selfie with me. He soon says goodbye. Ro/Or stays behind, has pain and digestion problems, hardly speaks any English, so not necessarily the perfect companion, but what the heck, come along then!
A brown, yellow, gray desert
When I look around, all I see are grey, brown deserts. No life. Sometimes to my astonishment a green spot in the valley, a tree, a bush, a meadow. The air seems to flicker, a light haze hangs like shrouds above the far away peaks. I ask myself about the meaning of being here and get no answer. On the other hand, I know very well what makes it so stimulating. It is exactly these moments where one's own limits are exceeded, where a world opens up that lies beyond our normal horizon of experience. By the way, it is normal to be assaulted by philosophical attacks at such places. This is evident in each case ...
Towards Hemis Schukpachen
It's now a fairly leisurely descent down the valley to the next village, Hemis Schukpachen, but Ro/Or is now facing real troubles, because whatever is causing him problems in his digestive tract is desperate to get some fresh air. I advise him to look for a big rock, behind which he can retreat for defecation. A good idea, he finds and looks for a suitable rock. There are quite a few of them, big and wide enough, but the rock he chooses is only about 30 centimeters high. Really? Behind this stone? Ro/Or seems to have his own idea of discretion, but in any case, I'm walking down to the village pretty fast ...
The village, the hotel
There I am already expected by a Ladakh lady. She raves about her new guesthouse, about hot showers and the like. Deal! And she hasn't promised too much. The rooms are big, the bathrooms are new and clean, the living and dining room inviting.
And once again, I meet old acquaintances, this time the big group of Israelis, a noisy funny gang (the landlord later explains that they were partying, singing, dancing, drinking and smoking all night, which is not an appropriate behaviour in Ladakh). Anyway, the girls are pretty, and I am a bit disappointed when they are picked up by the bus half an hour later (together with Ro/Or, who decided to leave in order to get better).
And again a Buddha
On a hill overlooking the city sits a huge Buddha, once again the statue of the future Buddha Metreya. The village, unlike the last one, is a revelation. Lots of vegetation, gushing streams, nice people.
"Julee" here and "Julee" there. "Julee" is the most important expression of all, it means hello, goodbye, thank you ...
I'm the luckiest person in the world
On a field an elderly man is working, he beckons to me (let's talk a bit). The first sentence: I'm the luckiest person in the world. And then he tells me about his trip to Europe, about his friends in France and Holland, he doesn't stop, and finally I find myself as a short-term hired helper folding huge plastic cloths on which the harvested barley is spread out and dried.
An amazing experience. In the farthest corner of this country, where no one but a few trekkers can be found, you find a man who obviously had an exciting life. His stories would be worth writing down. While working, there are other people standing and sitting around whose role remains unclear to me. But you laugh and gossip and obviously find it very funny to watch a foreigner working while they do nothing for a change...
New guests
In the meantime, new guests have arrived, Mike and Matt from New York, Andreas and Thomas from the Ruhr area in Germany.
An elderly lady sits quietly and introspectively on her chair, introduces herself as Anna from England and (later) has a lot of incredible stories to tell about her life. It will be a long and funny evening with new friends (only the question about the next November election (Trump/Clinton) leads to seconds of icy silence). No wonder ...
P.S. Matching Song: Ike & Tina Turner - River deep, Mountain high
And here the journey continues ... to the 3rd stage
