Leh
Leh, the capital of Ladakh, is bigger than I remember it and bigger than I pictured it. The streets are lined with restaurants, bric-a-brac stalls, and travel agents. There are organic food sellers and even Paint Ball on offer in the middle of town. The whole place seemed to be alive with those tourists escaping the southern heat.
We spent our time trying to recoup some of the body weight we had shed on the trek and stopping in on a few of the local attractions. We fed carrots to rescued donkeys at a nearby sanctuary and visited a couple of monasteries out of town.
Our plan was to bus back down the worlds highest highway to Manali and try another trek in the Spitti valley. That was the plan, but the prospect of spending a whole day on the bus waiting to get over Rhotang pass must have scared Roselin off because a Kashmiri was soon to convince her to take us the more circuitous route via Shrinigar.
Shrinigar
After an all night jeep ride the dawn broke and we dropped down into the Kashmir valley. Houses were large with sloping iron roofs, such a difference to the mud brick and flat roofs of Ladakh. The first thing we noticed though was the lush green, forests and grass replaced the desert we had come from.
The plan was to spend a night in a hotel, get the lay of the land, and then a night or two in a house boat on Dal lake. The plan was defunct when we saw the luxury on offer at our house boat named Apollo 8. Fine carved walnut furniture and walls, woven carpets and our own suite. Roselin pulled the honeymoon card and we stayed for 6 days. We did a couple of days walk, a boat tour of the lakes and sampled the wares of Mr Delicious (the sweet vendor at the floating markets). The locals call Shrinigar paradise and out on the lake it is easy to see why. We relaxed as we escaped India. This was not India, it was clean and tanquil. There is more than a hint of wealth here despite their troubles.
Jammu
We jeeped out of Shrinigar to Jammu passing perhaps 100 thousand blocks of willow ready to worked into cricket bats. The Indian tourists who pass through buy them by the half dozen. We were soon back in the real India, with litter and chaos everywhere.
We had a day tour of the temples with a rickshaw driver and sought some refuge in an air conditioned shopping centre and Dominos pizza. I read in the paper that a Tibetan had been arrested trying to smuggle beef into Dharamasala, which is illegal under the Provisions 5 and 8 of the Himachal Pradesh Cow Slaughter Act, perhaps they should stick to yak.
Manali
Back to Manali with just one hiccup - at the state border we were turned around because our bus had the wrong papers. We had to take some dodgey back roads but eventually made it back to Manali to pick up our left luggage.
Shimla
A couple of days to remember old times in Manali and it was back on the road. Another night bus to Shimla the old winter capital of the British Raj. Carved into the hills it is a picturesque town, popular amoungst the Indian tourists who overflow the pedestrian only streets for most of the day and night. Again this was not India, as spitting and smoking were banned and even attract fines! We visited the Hanuman temple and the Viceregal Lodge and did a day walk to the local falls.
Chandighar
Inspired by Michael Palin's Himalaya we took the toy train down out of the mountains to Chandighar. A modern town with wide streets and again showing few signs of the poverty that would greet us back in Real India.
Another newspaper article described that the Delhi police had cracked down on the "illegal milk trade" and deported several cows from the city. I hope they have gone to good homes.
Amritsar
Continuing on to Amritsar we had to run the gauntlet of ricksaw drivers and footpath vendors to reach the Golden Temple. But once inside we discovered another sanctuary away from India; there were honest men and a coke only cost 5 rupees. The temple is peacefully set surrounded by a large pool, such a contrast the violent history of the Sikhs. I presume all young religions have a tempestuous time just to survive. Their museum is full of homages to martyrs who have lost their lives for the cause.
We joined the melee at the Pakistan border and watched as the crowd was whipped into a nationalistic fever. I could only guess that a similar spectacle was being staged on the other side of the fence.
Delhi
Our stay in Delhi was punctuated with a day trip to Kajuraho. Situated half way back to Varanasi this was no small undertaking and involved a night train there and a night train back. But the temples are spectacular. Their erotic carving have earned them the name of the Karma Sutra temples but the complex reminds me more of a pristine Ankhor Wat of Cambodia, perhaps not as large. The morning sun glowing golden on the temples was picturesque to say the least.
Back in Delhi Roselin was on a mission to buy everything we needed for Africa and all the souvenirs we had to send back. We had the trial again of the Indian postal system, which doesn't seem to get any easier the more you do it. It was the final straw because our idea of squeezing in a few more attractions dissolved and we caught up on some sleep instead before our flight out of India. Six months in the Himalayas from Tibet to Ladakh had taken its toll.
Dubai
The ostentatious of Dubai can sweep you up in its excesses. Whether you think that it is completely over the top or an inspiration for what humans can achieve, you can easily believe that you too can belong. There are shopping malls with indoor ski slopes, giant aquariums, dancing fountains and every luxury store you can name. The space inside is even opulent, nothing like the overflowing stores of India or even home.
We toured the Burj Al Kalif, the highest building in the world towering over the sand and cranes of Dubai. Up on the viewing platform you have the option to take a souvenir gold ingot from a gold dispensing slot machine. Roselin dragged me around the gold souk of the old city where an estimated $4.5 billion of gold is displayed in the windows. And this does not include the diamonds or other gems. Roselin got caught up in the bright lights of it all and swept along on magic carpet ride. French chocolates, fine dining, and jewellery. In the final washup we were luck to escape at all.
Kenya
Finally Africa. I am not sure what I expected but I was a little nervous about a new continent. I did not expect that the hotels would be more like self sufficient compounds hidden away from everything. We were lucky to clear immigration and customs at Nairobi airport with little fuss, from what I hear it often takes several hours. Barely two minutes out of the airport and we saw giraffe from the window of our taxi. We had one night at the Hotel Boulevard before we were off on our first safari.
Amboseli NP
Our first tour and our first national park was Amboseli with Kilimanjaro as its backdrop. We were luck to have only one other on our 'tour' and our camping was in pre-erected tents with a full size double bed inside; this was not the camping we expected.
After lunch we saw giraffe, elephant, hippo, lion, the ubiquitous zebra and gnu, ostrich, gazelle .... the list goes on. We saw 3 of the big 5 (buffalo, elephant and lion). This safari gig was so easy, but the next two are the most elusive. The next day we had a tour of a Masai village. They danced, sang, and made fire then gave us a sales pitch to sell us their local handicrafts. They wanted more for a couple of bracelets than we paid for the tour. We had to consider it a donation just to escape.
Kilimanjaro
Back to Nairobi for a night and then a bus south again to Tanzania and Moshi for our Kili trek. Roselin was keen to be walking again and it had only been a month and a half. As we were getting our room at the Springlands hotel (another self contained compound) we were met by our friend John who had lived up to his promise to meet us from Australia for the trek.
We had chosen the Lemosho route, 8 day on the mountain, to try and acclimatise the best we could. At almost 5900m this would be the highest we had been, even through the Himalayas, and we would be climbing to this height in some ridiculous amount of time. Acclimatisation was going to be a problem, we had seen and heard of too many deaths.
It started easy enough; through Big Tree Camp, Shira 1 and Shira 2. On the way 'up' to Baranco we passed Moir hut (a higher camp than Shira 2 favoured by American companies) up to Lava tower. But Roselin pushed for us to climb up to Arrow glacier to get as much altitude as possible, everything little bit would count.
From Baranco we climbed Breakfast Wall and lunched at Karanga. This would normally be our camp spot for the day but Roselin again pushed us to cover the next day's walking in the same day. This meant we would have an extra day at Barafu and enabled us to have another short acclimatisation walk the next day.
Day 6. We had a small acclimatisation walk to possibly 4900m. Tonight at 11:30 we would have to get up for a cup of tea and be walking by midnight. It was already cold, bitterly cold. It wasn't long before I had everything that I had on to keep warm. Roselin was in the same boat and I think even John had started to feel the cold. About 4 hours in we were all struggling. Roselin had wanted to summit so much but by now was feeling like lying down to sleep. Enter the magic drug called diamox, half a tab later and Roselin was soldiering on again one step at a time. We rejoined the slow death march conga line of head lamps. John had started to slip behind with battery problems.
Roselin and I reached Stella point, the and old crater rim at about 5:00 (5 hours of walking in the dark). Our guide William didn't want to stay long as he had seen several tourists die here from the altitude. We had a small break and continued the gradual ascent around to Uhuru Peak reaching the summit after 6 hours. The sun was starting to rise and we could see that we were on a island in a sea of cloud. It was exhilarating to be here on the roof of Africa watching the morning begin.
We still had to go back down. We passed people literally being hauled up by guides - I am not sure the sense of continuing when you can not even stand. Stopping briefly at Barafu for a nap and some lunch we had to continue down for a few more hours to reach Mweka camp. It had been a long day but were treated to more food than we could eat, coke and brandy.
The next day everyone was is good spirits. The porters sang and danced and we made it back to Springlands before lunch. It had been a great walk.
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