Himalayan foothills

---

Travelling on one's own allows freedom of choice but can be frustrating as getting around can be difficult, lonely and expensive, particularly in areas where it is out of the normal tourist season. I made the decision not to go to Kashmir, partly because of government warnings of terrorism but also because I felt that I would enjoy it more if I was with someone particularly if visiting during the Himalayan winter. I had been tempted with the thought of the beauty of a houseboat at Srinagar - but not alone.

So I headed to Shimla, an old British hill station featuring in Rudyard Kipling and other romantic novels about the Raj. The journey was long and winding through the foothills. In places the scenery reminded me of Pennine Britain, elsewhere we wound our way up through brown and rocky mountains. The roads were busy with trucks and I began to wonder if I had made the right decision. When Shimla appeared it reminded me of the worst of India - concrete blocks built across a steep mountainside and at first glance it had little to appeal.

I hauled my bags up in the passenger lift from the Main Road to the Mall, a pedestrian road running across the Shimla ridge, and found a hotel with magnificent views. When I explored further I found old delapidated wooden buildings from the era of the Raj lining the Mall. Shimla was like a Gothic novel set in India. I could almost imaging Dracula living here as I walked along in the evening. My black mood was fueled because I was still suffering with Delhi belly and I was quite homesick for the comforts of my cottage. However in the day the Mall was like a small town high street in England, with no cattle or heaps of garbage as in many Indian streets, and it started to feel more comforting.

I decided to risk a trip into the nearby Kinnaur Valley and hired a driver and car as I didn't think my stomach would cope with long bus journeys. I decided I had made the right decision as we negotiated narrow roads with hairpin bends and shear drops into the valley below.

As my driver started up the usual conversation I had a few doubts about setting off with an unknown Indian. Firstly he commented that he wasn't paid enough by the tour company owner to pay for a room for the night ... and other customers let him share the room.. Then he started enquiring about the different attitude to sex between Europeans (enjoyment) and Indians (satisfaction) .... I quickly made it clear that I needed the room to myself and that I didn't want to discuss sex. He went quiet but then we talked quite happily about politics, religion and cricket and things were fine from then on.

The Kinnaur valley was busier than I expected with villages scattered along it's length. After dark decended we climbed up from the valley floor to our destination of Sarahan at over 2000 metres. I asked for a fire in my cold room at the government guesthouse where I appeared to be the only guest.

The next morning I opened my curtains to a sparkling view of the range of Himalayan hills on the opposite side of the valley. I spent the day exploring the village. It had a wooden temple dedicated to Bhima Kali, once the site of human sacrifice. It now has a much more serene feel. Behind the temple the road led to a small temple to Siva where the saddhu invited me and another local visitor into his cave for chai. I crawled into the hole in the rock to find it heated by a very smoky fire in the middle of the floor but illuminated with electric light supplied from the nearby hydro scheme!

It was a brief sojourn into the Himalayas but enough at this season. Although the weather this winter has been mild there with little snow I found it too bleak to enjoy alone. I decided to change plans, head back to Delhi and find a doctor just to check that my ongoing stomach bug wasn't anything too serious.

---

Photos

sarahan temple
The Bhima Kali temple at Sarahan with a Himalayan setting

shimla
Gothic horror in Shimla

himalayan woman
Life in the Himalayan foothills can be hard