Not quite Kashmir
August 10, 2010
Between the civil unrest, mud slides and our own time constraints our plans to make it into Kashmir were dashed. Taking the suggestion of our hotel manager in Amristar we ventured north and east to the to a place called Manali. After a tortuous 15 hour bus ride the details of which I will leave to my wife, Jean, Meredith and I found ourselves at the foot of the Himalayan mountains. The air was crisp and cool. A marked difference from the sweaty experiences we'd had us thus far in India.
From Manali we took an auto-rickshaw 20 minutes up to a little town called Vashisht. The town was nestled on the mountainside of huge valley cut by a raging torrent of river. Fir and pine trees grew in abundance. I had a bizarre sensation like I was in the mountains of New Mexico or Colorado. At half past seven in the morning the main and only street in town was still fast asleep. We managed to rouse a lodge manager and found a pair of fantastic rooms with balconies overlooking the river valley.
The area around Manali is a magnet for thrill seekers on a budget. Paragliding, rock climbing, ab-sailing, rafting and canyoning excursions can be arranged for a fraction of the price you'd fine in America or Britain. The weather was against us however. The first day was for the most part clear. Unfortunately, we were all sacked out in our rooms after the grueling bus ride the night before. Jean was down with Delhi Belly and Meredith and I didn't make it out of the hotel until mid-afternoon. Ganja was in the air as we cruised up main street. In addition to adrenaline junkies the area also draws a lot of hippies possibly due to the plentiful and ready access to the little green plant.
Meredith and I found a little tourism outfit run by a dread locked and weather beaten British expatriate named Dave. Kicked back in his mud flecked trekking pants Dave seemed extremely relaxed. Everyone in town seemed really relaxed. Interesting.
Meredith and I quickly fell into conversation with Dave for nearly half an hour. Monsoon season had been abnormally monsoon like this year. Ladakh, a city just to the north of us in Kashmir, which averages 300 sunny days a year has been besieged with rain causing numerous landslides and and closing off road traffic the region. Rafting was out of the question due to the swollen conditions of the river. Paragliding, climbing and canyoning were all day-to-day weather dependent.
Today broke relatively clear. Fog still shrouded the tops of the mountains though. I called Dave and found out that paragliding was a go. Jean was still feeling under the weather so Meredith and I took an auto-rickshaw 10 kilometers up the road to the Solong Valley. Check out the link here to see our paragliding pictures.
Paragliding Pictures.
Between the civil unrest, mud slides and our own time constraints our plans to make it into Kashmir were dashed. Taking the suggestion of our hotel manager in Amristar we ventured north and east to the to a place called Manali. After a tortuous 15 hour bus ride the details of which I will leave to my wife, Jean, Meredith and I found ourselves at the foot of the Himalayan mountains. The air was crisp and cool. A marked difference from the sweaty experiences we'd had us thus far in India.
From Manali we took an auto-rickshaw 20 minutes up to a little town called Vashisht. The town was nestled on the mountainside of huge valley cut by a raging torrent of river. Fir and pine trees grew in abundance. I had a bizarre sensation like I was in the mountains of New Mexico or Colorado. At half past seven in the morning the main and only street in town was still fast asleep. We managed to rouse a lodge manager and found a pair of fantastic rooms with balconies overlooking the river valley.
The area around Manali is a magnet for thrill seekers on a budget. Paragliding, rock climbing, ab-sailing, rafting and canyoning excursions can be arranged for a fraction of the price you'd fine in America or Britain. The weather was against us however. The first day was for the most part clear. Unfortunately, we were all sacked out in our rooms after the grueling bus ride the night before. Jean was down with Delhi Belly and Meredith and I didn't make it out of the hotel until mid-afternoon. Ganja was in the air as we cruised up main street. In addition to adrenaline junkies the area also draws a lot of hippies possibly due to the plentiful and ready access to the little green plant.
Meredith and I found a little tourism outfit run by a dread locked and weather beaten British expatriate named Dave. Kicked back in his mud flecked trekking pants Dave seemed extremely relaxed. Everyone in town seemed really relaxed. Interesting.
Meredith and I quickly fell into conversation with Dave for nearly half an hour. Monsoon season had been abnormally monsoon like this year. Ladakh, a city just to the north of us in Kashmir, which averages 300 sunny days a year has been besieged with rain causing numerous landslides and and closing off road traffic the region. Rafting was out of the question due to the swollen conditions of the river. Paragliding, climbing and canyoning were all day-to-day weather dependent.
Today broke relatively clear. Fog still shrouded the tops of the mountains though. I called Dave and found out that paragliding was a go. Jean was still feeling under the weather so Meredith and I took an auto-rickshaw 10 kilometers up the road to the Solong Valley. Check out the link here to see our paragliding pictures.
Paragliding Pictures.
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