2 Donkeys, a backpack and a notebook
Looking for my roots…and some new routes.
Looking for my roots…and some new routes.
August 2006
This summer with time to spare between treks I went back to the way it was. Two donkeys, a sometimes sober muleteer, and me.
In days past I would sort out my food, forget something vital, and take off from Manali, Padum, Alchi, or Spitok into the hills.
It somehow never seemed to matter where I went – there were always friendly villagers or nomads, with curd, fresh veg, tsampa, or better, chang. The days were always full of beautiful vistas, delightful campsites and sound sleep under wheeling night skies that defied description.
Of course there were days when the horses got lost, when it rained, when the campsite was less then idyllic, but, as ever with memory, it all blended into one long summer – and on this trek as I hauled our mules through waist deep rivers and peered into insane canyons (down there?) I came to realize that those summers were my personal inspiration for our treks, an endless summer, a journey where time stood still, one day blending into another seamlessly, with every horizon crossed revealing more beauty – and every day was just so full of color, faces, sounds and smells that your senses were overloaded.
At journeys end you felt that you had been blessed with finding something special hidden away from the world, captured in so many moments – a pile of sun warmed fresh harvested barley you dipped your hand into, a moon rising over a still campsite. Capture that, and I believe you have something special.
Ladakh and the Himalayas have changed. More roads, more campsites, more garbage. But in the last 10 days I found again it is still a moving place to trek through. And again as two decades ago I found there are still hidden valleys and remote villages where few trekkers stray, villages moving with the cycle of the seasons that slow our steps as we pass to match their rhythm.
The dream for me was always to point, or lead, or maybe just stumble in a far too loud voice, with our trekkers into some of these hidden places.
This summer with time to spare between treks I went back to the way it was. Two donkeys, a sometimes sober muleteer, and me.
In days past I would sort out my food, forget something vital, and take off from Manali, Padum, Alchi, or Spitok into the hills.
It somehow never seemed to matter where I went – there were always friendly villagers or nomads, with curd, fresh veg, tsampa, or better, chang. The days were always full of beautiful vistas, delightful campsites and sound sleep under wheeling night skies that defied description.
Of course there were days when the horses got lost, when it rained, when the campsite was less then idyllic, but, as ever with memory, it all blended into one long summer – and on this trek as I hauled our mules through waist deep rivers and peered into insane canyons (down there?) I came to realize that those summers were my personal inspiration for our treks, an endless summer, a journey where time stood still, one day blending into another seamlessly, with every horizon crossed revealing more beauty – and every day was just so full of color, faces, sounds and smells that your senses were overloaded.
At journeys end you felt that you had been blessed with finding something special hidden away from the world, captured in so many moments – a pile of sun warmed fresh harvested barley you dipped your hand into, a moon rising over a still campsite. Capture that, and I believe you have something special.
Ladakh and the Himalayas have changed. More roads, more campsites, more garbage. But in the last 10 days I found again it is still a moving place to trek through. And again as two decades ago I found there are still hidden valleys and remote villages where few trekkers stray, villages moving with the cycle of the seasons that slow our steps as we pass to match their rhythm.
The dream for me was always to point, or lead, or maybe just stumble in a far too loud voice, with our trekkers into some of these hidden places.
And in 2007, we did...
Every year has its highs and lows as the seasons roll around and we get a year older; but from the viewpoint of new years day 2008 sitting in the sun outside a Pokhara cafe, 2007, for the natural highs we reach on every trek, just got better and better.
From January with Mark on the Chadar, through my wonderful custom trekkers from The USA and Denmark, and of course, Richard and Micah - coming back were Tom, Richard, Dave, Peter, Gaye, Dave, Corrine, Ali, Annie, Glen, John, and Steve and Lois, joining so many new trekkers experiencing their first Himalayan highs.
For me it is now my 20th Himalayan birthday, (20 since my first trek that is!) and here is a handful of photos, writing and memories from a year... see you soon!
Joel
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