Zanskar Amigo Trek (Jul - Aug)

We Should Have Known Better

Photos

The are things you remember about treks you have done before, there are things you compare when you do. We should have known something was up when our travel agent handed the whole trek over to us as we handed over our deposit. What does “well its your trek now” mean exactly? At least the travel agent threw in a helper at the last minute - who also turned out to be his brother. He was the guy that mended the tent every day and was also the cook. I guess if he didn’t find trekking so boring then Amigo No. 3 aka Mr. McGyver may have been better company. I think it all went wrong for us when they found out they would not be back in time for the Independence Day celebrations in Keylong. A big shin dig from what our guide, cum Keylong’s defending ping pong champion, told us. Let me introduce the team. First Amigo, our guide, had things start to go wrong for him gradually. We should have known when we suspected he wasn’t really a guide at all. He knew more of the party life than the life of looking after tourists and so he appears in our photos as a spot way off in the distance, more of hero type leader than guide. Roselin and he had a bit of a personality clash not long after we started. He didn’t like Roselin’s personality and Roselin certainly didn’t care for his - personality clash. Our Horseman, Amigo No. 2  had things go wrong for him all in one go. We should have known when he was late the first day while our guide told horseman horror stories. He got rolling drunk in Pepula, and was the worse the next day. Waiting at a school for our horseman to visit his son. Amigo No. 3 turned up almost two hours late with the horses but without the horseman - he arrived later, drunk again. We should have known. But then this is the adventure of travelling and it certainly makes for the best stories.

The first half the trek from Darcha to Padum had one pass for us “pass baggers” but at over 5000m still significant. I didn’t feel to well on the way up to  Chumnik Nakpo just below the pass. Roselin didn’t feel to well after it so we had a rest day at the foot of the holy mountain Gumburanjan. The tent had to be fixed for the first time, it wouldn’t be the last time. The poles were so old that they would simply snap if there was any wind. The Frenchies we camped with a for the last couple of days were replaced by a large group from what we guessed was Germany. They followed us out the next day after our begrudgingly granted rest day, one of them on a horse feeling the worse of the pass. She died that night in Shey, just beyond Kargiak after we drank local beer and whiskey in our horseman’s home and Roselin tickled his children. A sobering thought - yet it stresses the importance of not rushing and being experienced. Two points of conflict between us and our 3 Amigos. It is quite surprising to realize how many people die on these walks - it can only be put down to ignorance or arrogance.

The landscape to Padum is of narrow gorges, rocky and dry. Nomads and farmers live along the valley in traditional flat roofed houses frozen in half the year. Life would be hard, which explains the “party hard” attitude when it is cold. But now students are back from school in the south, houses are being built, peas and wheat are being harvested and horsemen are in short supply ferrying tourists. Antarctic Roselin has decided that she needs to come back when it is cold and the rivers are frozen solid so she can walk on them. The Chadar is the trek on the frozen rivers. We even met a donkey man who regularly takes people for the Chadar and cave camping. With this and the Sikkim walk we missed from Darjeeling only means Roselin has vowed to come back to India. I think she really must love it on some level, even if she won’t admit it.

Day 11 : In Padum we met the road out to Kargil, had our first shower for the walk! The road actually is not far from Purne so there is a fair bit of road walking. From here Roselin warmed to the trek both figuratively and literally. It was hot, 35 degrees in the shade.

Day 15 : Into Lingshet is the pick of the walk and crossing Hanuma La into the Lingshet valley was a highlight. This is the day our ‘guide’ got us lost, his shortcut turned out to add a couple of hours to an already long day. We should have know when he lost his nerve and Roselin had to lead him across a ledge that he was not a guide. It was a good place for a rest day but it was here the 3 Amigos realised they would not be back for the Keylong festival. At exactly the same time the scenery was spectacular where rolling hills met jagged cliffs and the colours were gold and silver. Probably ranks up there with the Annapurna Sanctuary for me.

Day 18 : Singge La was the final 5000m pass to bag. The monsoon caught up with us into Photoskar. And this is when we had McGyver out in the rain, digging a water break around the tent, I was just hoping it wouldn’t collapse. The next day our guide lost us, or we lost our leader - depends how you look at it. We benched Amigo No. 1 and promoted Amigo No 3. to guide picked apricots and we thought our troubles were over.

Day 21 : Having made our get away hitch hiking in truck, I thought we had left the bad mojo behind. There was a bumper sticker that read “I love Rozy” that should have been an omen. It turned out that our truck broke down twice spent the night sleeping by the road, gave up took the other truck, broke down again. The fleet owner, who washed down persimmon with whiskey, invited to his home in Jammu and fed us at the Sikh temple by the road. By the time he put us in a cab for the final few kilometres into Leh I am not sure if he would ever want to see us again.

In between treks

Darjeeling

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Darjeeling was a change to the hot wet stickiness of Kolkata and it's downpours; it was cold and wet, actually wetter. We had the usual overnight train to the foot of the Himalayas at Siliguri. We were probably shielded from the transvestites plying passengers for baksheesh by an Indian couple in our compartment. In Nepal an Indian couple told us stories of how they would leave the girls alone but grope the men if not given money. I for one was certainly happy for the lack of attention. Then for something different we decided to haggle for the Jeep ride up to the hill station of Darjeeling. Theoretically this should have been straight forward. We had the bargaining power - loads of jeeps only a few passengers. They played their hand early by saying that their jeep was "leaving now", of course they never are. We were patient, but no one would budge on price. In the end we settled on a few rupees off but I guess you could call it a technical victory.

The jeep steadily climbed up to Darjeeling passing a military base and numerous tea plantations finally entering a cloud and Darjeeling.The thing is that that cloud never really lifted. The sky was hidden all but for one night, it rained every day and sometimes all day. We tried to do some washing but that only dried after almost a week. I guess it didn't help that our guest house, Tower View, had a bit of a damp problem and anything touching the external wall became wet and grew mildew. Particularly strange was that they had posted signs saying that water was scarce in Darjeeling so don't wash your clothes. This climate was certainly not the warm dry air to help Roselin's flu. In fact she really only made it out for one day when we visited the zoo and the Hot Stimulating Cafe. The zoo had all the promised animals we had missed in Nepal: Snow Leopard, Bengal Tiger, Brown Bear, and Wolf. The Hot Stimulating Cafe had lemon ginger tea for Roselin and tasty momos but not the Bob Marley tunes described in their visitors book. I think the power was out (again), which is becoming a regular experience in this part of the world. For the admission to the zoo we also got to see the Mountaineering Institute, where we hid from yet another shower/heavy mist. The Institute has a few dioramas and an eclectic collection of genuine mountaineering kit used on expeditions but the surprise exhibit for me was a large telescope gifted to some official by none other than Adolf Hitler.

Roselin did relent into seeing a doctor at the local Planters Hospital. We seemingly jumped the queue while others waited (gora power) and got ushered into the doctors office. It was a small office made even smaller by the fact that, while Roselin dictated her symptoms to the doctor, a local guy was on the examination table having a nasty graze on his thigh cleaned and sterilised by a nurse, a woman who I am guessing was his wife stood by, and I and another random loitered in the corner. India must be ahead of the facebook curve with their lack of interest in privacy.

The only other excursion I did was by myself to the Happy Valley Tea Estate. While the factory itself seemed virtually inactive except for some sorting in one room, there were plenty of picking in the fields around. Women, all Nepali, picked the youngest 3 leaf shoots while male overseers looked on from under umbrellas.

New Delhi

We splashed out for our trip back across the country to Delhi by upgrading ourselves to the AC carriages. Besides air-conditioning we also got pillows, sheets and blankets, bottled water, newspapers, and meals. The carriage was even swept. But just as well, because without the windows to toss your rubbish out of it just piles up on the floor. The floors of these carriages see a lot of action. People sleep there, its the dumping ground for all your trash, one child even urinated and vomited in the corridor (to be left as is by the nonchalant parents). So the people are still very much the same no matter which class you travel. I was asked what was the same between Australia and India and was lost for words, I still can't think of anything.

The main tourist street of Paraganj in Delhi, Main Bazaar, seems to have had a face 'lift' since we were there last, it might have even been for the Commonwealth games. But it looks like a couple of metres from every shop front has been ripped off leaving a scar and none of that claustrophobic market street atmosphere of Varanasi. They have ripped out its seedy soul too and it felt empty and dead. We avoided it and stayed at Amax in Arakashan St over the road from the train station, which is lined with hotels of all calibres. It is not far from  Main Bazaar, but almost a world away.

We did venture out to the old city around the Red Fort for food. After I had to queue for 20 minutes to get through the metal detectors at the metro station I found Roselin (segregated queues like the airport) and we travel the 2 stops to the old city. I think I waited in line more than it took to travel on the metro and the train was pleasantly air-conditioned compared to the queue. We had hot jelebi and kurd from the street stands and soan papadi from Haldiram's. We had lots of plans but they would have to wait until we got back from Ladakh, Roselin had itchy feet again and was still not over her flu.

Manali

It was my belief that nothing in India came for free but I will have to recant that thought. During our efforts to organise our trek we have discovered what really has been there all the time. And that is exactly what is free here - time. It is obvious to me now, everywhere you see people frittering it away, and I understand why it takes so long to do anything.

We have been in Manali for 9 days and counting and are likely to achieve only 2 things in our time here: 1. Organise our trek to Leh and 2. Get our Kindle replaced. The first is why we are here anyway (besides avoiding the monsoon). We went into Himalayan Adventures looking to book the trek and ended up being redirected to a small operator out of Keylong on the other side of Rhotang pass. This was all after hours of advice and phone calls by Giresh, all for free. Our second 'accomplishment' was not planned for and due to a small accident over lunch. Roselin in a trip down memory lane managed to drop test the Kindle, and being as adept as ever managed to find its weakness that I could not. Luckily it was still in warranty but we had the added challenges to post the old one back to Amazon and get a new one delivered to Manali. This is not as trivial as it would have been in Australia. First of all we discovered that electronics are technically 'banned' from being posted in India. So this means that no courier company would provide insurance, a requirement from Amazon. So we had to use the Indian postal system. Now while India Post is meant to be the largest in the world it doesn't mean that it is the most efficient. First of all we had to back track the previous town of Kullu as this has a Postal Head Office, the only post office to give us insurance. Then we had to find someone to pack it for us. A woman in a courier company came to our rescue with some bubble wrap, and I found an old cardboard box from a nearby store. She spent a good 15 minutes wrapping as best we could get it for free. Then we had to buy half a metre of white calico and some sealing wax and found a bookshop owner? who happily stitched up the package and melted wax over the stitches for free (well we did buy a marker off him for less than a dollar). At last we could post it with insurance and tracking. After 3 days tracking was showing that our parcel (that must be there in 30 days) had not moved since we handed it over. We were still waiting for the new kindle to arrive. Although it took only a few days to make it to India, it had not made it into our state, and was sitting, waiting "delayed due to extra handling".

It all got too hard so we gave up and went to yoga! Besides the up and down the hill we hoped it would get us in shape for the walk. Roselin had heard from some Frenchies that she would have a strong back - maybe she feels like carrying more in her pack! After 2 days we both licking our wounds and not feeling up to going back. Not a good sign 20 days walking in the Zanskar. But we weren't waiting any more; the kindle arrive just before we took a jeep to Keylong, we were trekking again.