10th Week in India - Chamba Valley - A Hidden Gem

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Our tenth week began with an overnight train ride from Agra to Amritsar. We had a very comfortable trip in a 2AC 'side upper/lower'. As the sun rose on the punjanb, the green fields spread out in front of us like Saskatchewan - this is truly the breadbasket of India.
Arriving in Amritsar - home of the most holy Sikh shrine, the Golden Temple - we found the city to be especially clean. Somehow the Sikhs have conquered that unfortunate urge most Indians have to just 'throw it away' and the usual mounds of garbage are simply not there.
We dropped out bags in the hotel and jumped on a bicycle rickshaw for the trip downtown to the Golden Temple in the middle of this raucous, bustling city. The Golden Remple is situated in the middle of a 6 acre lake or 'tank'. Surrounding the tank is a 30 foot wide promenade of white marble which is itself surrounded with three - four storey buildings. The temple is reached by means of a white marble walkway where there were always at least 1000 people waiting to get in to the temple to pay their respects and give offerings. We were met throughout the temple complex with welcoming smiles and questions as to where we were from and were we enjoying ourselves. The temple has accommodation that is free to anyone (I stayed here for three days in 1973). The free cafeteria serves 35,000 meals per day.
After a few hours in the temple we left and walked the crowded markets stocking up for the Himalayas, our next destination. We usually walk single-file though crowds with me leading the way and looking back every 30 seconds to make sure Darla hasn't been abducted.
The next morning we took a two-hour train ride north through green fields and busy towns to Pathankot in II Class. Tickets were C$1 each.
Getting off the train we could see the snow-capped peaks sparkling in the distance. We tried to get a taxi to Dalhousie, an old British hill-station, but couldn't bargain below 850 rupees (C$25) so we took the bus for less than $2 each. We endured four hours of twisting up the switchbacks with Bollywood music blaring at 90 decibells and the bus' five note horn blasting at over 100 decibels. Fortunately, I had earplugs.
Dalhousie is located on an east-west ridge at 2000m. To the south are sunny views of terraced and forested valleys. The view north is to more terraced and almost equal ranges and then the shimmering peaks of the Dhauladhar range at 4200m. We spent two hours walking the steep, narrow, streets lined with tall pines and blooming rododendrons being hustled by the touts looking at one dusty and faded room after another. We weren't sure if those carpets were dead or alive - but they seemed to be moving.... We settled on a clean corner room facing north and west with a stunning view of the the peaks. The room cost $30 with another $2 for an electric heater which it very much needed. We were both suffering from sniffles and reluctance to stray more than 50 feet from the nearest toilet. It seemed like a good place to stay and recover.
A couple of days later, feeling much beter, we moved on to Chamba, the capital of the district, pop. 20,000. We shared a taxi with a couple of Indian families and their children. We went over a high pass where it had snowed the previous night and for all of them it was the first time thay had seen snow. We introduced them to the fine art of making snowballs.
We spent a night in Chamba and the next day we met our guide, Sahil, who escorted us to the bus stand for the 45 minute, 20 cent local bus ride up a narrow river valley with steep 1000m sides.
Sometimes we do things by design and other times the event seizes us almost by accident. We had read about this place called 'The Orchard Hut' in the Lonely Planet. It sounded intriguing but the shared toilets and the half-hour walk in made us a little sceptical. However, the more Darla talked to the owner, Prakash, the more inviting it sounded. 700 rupees (C$20) per day each for room and board.
There was a porter waiting at a small village where the bus let us off. He took our heavy packs while Sahil led the way across a foot bridge and through small fields of grain. We walked along a little channel that brought water to a small grist mill in a ledgestone building with a slate roof - the preferred method of building in these parts - the mill was running and we went in to take photos before completing our climb up some 250m on a narrow path.
Prakash turned out to be about our age. Fifteen years ago he gave up his little business in Chamba town and moved, with his family, to the country. He planted fruit trees, grains and other crops and raised them organically - to the consternation of his neighbours. He bought cows, goats and sheep. He started building his house... an Indian back-to-the-lander...we could cerainly relate to that. We talked a lot and found we had much in common. Soon, lunch was served: rice, dal, vegetables and chapatis beside the 20ft x 20ft concrete pool fed continuously by cold mountain spring water. The pool did not merit a lengthy swim but certainly an invigorating plunge. We went for a short walk in the afternoon and saw a little of the surrounding countryside. I stumbled into a small farmyard and everyone trooped out of the house and posed for a photograph.
The next day we relaxed in the sun. Some of us did laundry while others napped on the hammock....
The following day we arranged for another guide, Sunil, to take us up the 900 verticle metres to the top of the hill behind the hut on what was to be a near 10 km hike. We were joined by James, a tall, friendly, rugged Australian lad who is spending a few weeks at the hut doing a business plan for a mountain trek/tour guide service he would like to start.
It took us four hours to make the climb up very steep slopes through terraced fields, small farms and forests of small oak. We passed shepherds tending sheep and goats, men carrying huge loads of cornstalks or firewood and women cutting brush and tree limbs for forage - cows are kept tied lest they tumble down the mountains. We passed trees of almond, olive, fig and walnut and the rododendrons were blooming.
The higher we went the more of our valley and adjoining valleys we could see: thousands of bright green terraced fields; thousands of houses from the valley floors to the mountain tops. Beyond these foothils are the snowy peaks of a couple of small ranges that are foothills to the Great Himalayan Range beyond.
As we passed through small communities on our way up, little children, so cute, would run out pressing there hands together and yell 'Namaste' in the traditional, elegant Hindi greeting meaning 'Hello'.
People have been living here for a very long time - the town of Chamba will celebrate its 1000th anniversary sometime this April. The people of the hills live a simple life growing grain, feeding and milking cows, goats and sheep. They live in sturdy stone huts with walls a foot hick and slate rooves. And they are very friendly! There is a rare innocence here that is hard to find for a traveller. We usually meet people who give us varying levels of service for, basically, one pecuniary motive. Here in the mountains we are most welcome and our enjoyment and personal well-being are most important. Money matters are secondary.
While the Orchard Hut receives a number of large groups, it is under-booked for individual travellers like ourselves - probably because of its remoteness. Our presence here is welcomed because it means work for the staff. Prakash helps the local mountain people when he can. On our trek, Sunil checked on a sick child he had brought medecine for the week before. When we walked through the village, the mother carried out the cutest smiling one year-old who had obviously recovered. While we rested and basked in the sun at the top of our trek, Sunil went down the other side with more medecine for another sick person. On our way down the mountain, we stopped at the house of an older woman who was weaving blankets of homespun wool on a loom that Prakash had given her.
So, we began to get a feeling of what Prakash' actions have meant to he people of this area. He lives here and runs his small business which employs his family as well as a number of nephews (including our two guides Sunil and Sahil). He has hired a number of 'troubled' local boys who were on the verge of possibly slipping into lives of petty crime or drugs. With his meagre resources he helps his neighbours when he can or when they are in need.
We realize the dollars we spend here go a very long way and complete the sustainability of Prakash' endeavours. The mountain life is under pressure from many sides and we feel privileged to share it for a moment and help it continue for a little longer. We are not sure what is the exact definition of sustainable tourism but we are sure it must be similar to our experience at the Orchard Hut in the Chamba Valley.
After a cloudy rest day when some of us did laundry and others typed on the internet, we planned another trek up the valley. It was sunny when we set out but we could hear distant rumblings of thunder. With Sunil again as our guide and James, who we were becoming very fond of, we walked down the 350m to the Saal River on the valley floor and caught the local bus for some 7 km to the village of Sahoo where we visited a Shiva temple that was over 1000 years old. Although the trend is for men to shed traditional garb and wear western clothes, there was a large group elegantly attired in traditional turbans, knee-length shirts, baggy trousers and a shawl wrap. The day being Saturday, they were all dressed up for a wedding in the next village. While we passed through town they were in the process of clambering into the back of a couple of pick-ups and roaring off for a good time.
We spent the rest of the day walking back to the Orchard Hut along the sides of the mountains through small villages, past farms, along terraced fields and across tumbling brooks. At every house the children would run out and greet us with joy - like a parade was passing through.
It began to rain about an hour from home and we took refuge in the large home of a friend of Sunil. These people had a small refridgerator, a sewing machine, a TV and a lot of nice wooden furniture. We were served tea by the young, pretty wife of Sunil's friend.
The rain stopped and we continued whereupon it began again in earnest. We broke out our jackets and umbrellas. A clap of thunder would echo for 30 seconds through the valleys. So, with thunder cannonading down down the valley and lightning flashing we walked the last half-hour through rain and hail on a narrow, muddy trail cut into the steep mountain - often with a precipitous drop only one false step to our right.
The next day we took a taxi to Daramshala and Mcleod Gange, the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government in Exile. India has been good enough to welcome a very large Tebetan community since China invaded Tibet. Many of the Tibetans live here and add an interesting flavour to the local culture and food. We went out for supper upon arrival and found ourselves in a dining room at least half-filled with maroon-cloaked monks - many talking on their cell phones.
So ends the last 10 days of our trip. We'll combine the balance of the 11th week along with the 12th. Best to all

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