Dear India...We need to talk... The Perils of Travelling India as a Woman Alone

Dear India...

I've been dipping in an out of your (dirty) waters for years now, and while I'm certainly no expert on all things desi, I would at least consider myself semi-professional. I kinda get it.

You are magnificent, complex, beautiful, frenetic, multi-faceted and have been a huge part of my life for the past 5 years. I love you, I crave you and I need you...but we need to talk.

Why have you become such an insurmountable challenge to me this time around? Is it me? Did I do something to offend you? Are you trying to break up with me? I don't want to launch into a vitriolic diatribe on all the ways that you have infuriated me of late , so I'll try and keep this (reasonably) polite....

Ok, first up. What's your problem with women? Seriously. The entire subcontinent would crumble if not for the might of female backbone, and yet you continue to marginalise, patronise,  objectify and humiliate women on a grand scale.  Of course this is not a problem exclusive only to India, and neither is it something practised by every man that I come across. But my experience here suggests that somehow, as I woman, I am:

 a) a sexual object
 b) the property of a man
 c) subservient or subordinate
 d) completely brainless and unable to fend for myself
 e) always at fault. for everything

These feelings are not unfounded  either. I have myriad anecdotal evidence to back up these claims. How long have you got?!

The last time I was here it was 2015 and I was with a boyfriend. Life was easy breezy. People* (by *people, I am generally referring to men) rarely approached me, and if they did, it was as an extension of my boyfriend. They would ask him all the questions, while I sat, obediently, knowing my place. They would ask about his education and his career, offer him cigarettes and ask about me through him. Insulting, yes. But easy.

Fast forward to 2017 and I'm here alone. And how things differ as a woman travelling alone in India! Particularly if you're approximately 4 inches taller that the average person here, and have the pallor of a freshly plucked chicken.
In the past 3 months alone I have been groped (several times), catcalled, verbally abused, had my appearance ridiculed, dictated to, patronised, lunged at, sexually threatened, propositioned, proposed to and had my character ripped to shreds. And then blamed for all of it.

All seemingly because I am a woman, and I am alone here.

I'll start with the groping. How Indian men (again this is NOT a sweeping generalisation or an attack on all Indian men), love a good, tactical grope. Festival season, New Year, crowded streets, dark alleyways - go in for the kill. Grab her by the pussy, right? And why shouldn't they? After all, it's my fault for being in possession of tits and arse. Or so I've been told. On numerous occasions. Even politicians/policemen/allegedly educated people are of the opinion that women are asking for it. Case in point; mass-molestation of Indian women on New Year's Eve in Bangalore. Why? Because those rebellious Indian girls flaunt their bodies like loose and easy "western women." Nothing to do with the mob of perverts at all. They were merely acting upon their carnal, animal instincts. Ladies, accept responsibility!
 It such commonplace here that I no longer even feel particularly upset post-grope. It's irksome and frustrating, like falling asleep with a mosquito in your room. But it no longer provokes vitriol or fury or tears. It's just part and parcel of my life here. And that in itself is a sad indictment on society.

Catcalling (encompassing sexual threats, verbal harassment, comments on my appearance and being propositioned), is the sure fire gateway to groping. Not sure how to physically sexually harass a woman? Start with some light verbal abuse, and progress from there. A natural stepping stone. My personal favourite, and one that I simply never tire of hearing is "Madam, can I fuck you?" Or some variation on the theme. I particularly enjoy hearing this one late at night, when it's dark and when said perpetrator is driving past me slowly, and on a quiet street. I should mention that late-night public places in India are generally devoid of women, so being the only female in a street dominated by men only adds to the experience. On the plus side, you did call me "Madam," so I'm expected to be grateful. And 1O points for politeness. 

Comments on my appearance are also most welcome at ANY time. Please do continue to pass remark on the size/shape of my boobs and bum, colour of my skin (translucent), eye colour, clothing etc. Men! Patriarchy! I have been awaiting your judgements and validation all this time. PLEASE FUCKING CONTINUE. And while you're it, continue to speak to me as though I'm a completely brainless airhead who sailed in to town on a banana skin. There's nothing a woman loves more than to be patronised. No really. We love it! Feel free to explain (mansplain, right?) the screamingly obvious to me. And definitely ingratiate yourself to me by using key phrases such as "Listen, ma'am," "You don't understand..." and  other such wise ditties. You're right. My extensive travels have taught me absolutely nothing. I've been idling through life, waiting on your pearls of utter fucking wisdom this entire time. Thank you!

If you feel it absolutely necessary, please do also feel entirely free to pass judgment on my single status. "Where are your friends?" "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" And my personal favourite; "You're 28 and unmarried?" Followed by obligatory sad/concerned face. My life is obviously invalid, sad and empty sans man. OBVIOUSLY. My naked ring-finger and barren, childless womb make me only a half-woman.  I live in sheer and utter hope and desperation that one day some Prince Charming-esque hunk will rescue me from this perpetual torture.

Single female travellers are also far more susceptible to perverse curiosity than say, couples, or groups of friends travelling together. Where are you going? (None of you business). Where are you staying? (None of your business). Do you need something? (Yes; distance, peace and complete isolation from humanity).

This type of curiosity, naturally, breeds gossip. Let me give you a little anecdote. For several months, I was living in Varanasi, in Uttar Pradesh.  Volunteering, trying to do a bit of karma yoga, generally minding my own business and getting on with things. But a couple of months living somewhere in India is the equivalent of living your entire life in a small village in Scotland. People talk. And boy do they love to talk! The fishwives came out in force.  After a short time, I began to hear rumours about myself; I was drunk in the street, I was on a motorbike with some random questionable stranger, etc. All totally baseless. But enough to make me feel uncomfortable, because it dawned on me that someone, somewhere is always watching. People are tracking my every move. Total strangers (men) would present themselves to me, armed with a fairly robust knowledge of my life. Quite disconcerting, and yet not wholly unsurprisingly.
Who needs CCTV when the average Indian is so adept?

But like I already said, all of these things are entirely my fault. As a single white female navigating the complex terrain of the sub-continent, I should really know my place. That means: no alcohol or smoking (except in the confines of my room), no talking with anyone in the street (particularly men, as I know all too well that even a 10 second conversation with a man can leave your reputation in shreds), no showing of any skin (cover your tempting ankles, harlots!) and definitely don't spend time or give attention to any man, unless you want misappropriated feelings/a proposal/a love letter/them to lunge at you. This includes ALL men; chai-wallah, shopkeeper, snake-charmer, priest, whatever. I used to pass by a chai stall in Varanasi 3 or 4 times a week, stopping each time for around 10 minutes. Cup of tea, biscuit, idle chit-chat, goodbye. This went on for around 4 weeks. So over the duration of 4 weeks, I spent a maximum of 160 minutes at this chai shop.  Not even 3 hours. But out of the blue one day, the chai-man (who doesn't speak English particularly well, by the way, and didn't actually know my real name), presented me with a silver ring and a passionate letter, declaring his undying love for me, I am his life, can't live without me, blah blah blah.

"You grew too close with this man, this is all your fault, yaar," one friend unsympathetically informed me.
"But I just pass by for tea!" I protest, to deaf ears. " What, am I supposed to live a life without tea? Impossible!"
It seems that in India, "feelings" develop quicker than a rat scaling a drainpipe, so be warned.

I realise this has probably strayed dangerously in to the realm of "AND ANOTHER THING....," type ranting, which was not my intention, so I'm going to wrap this up neatly here. My love for the sub-continent (believe it or not) far outweighs every negative, and it will take a lot more than an opportunist pervert/smug patroniser/pathetic cat-caller/vicious gossip/lusty chai-man to deter me.

India, I still love you, but please give me - and your long-suffering female population - a break!

China...It´s a no from me...

I wanted to like China. I really did. I went with an open mind, ready to absorb as much of the country as possible.

But after a fairly uninspiring 3 weeks we decided enough was enough - neither of us was particularly enamoured with the country nor enjoying the experience. 

So what was the problem?

Well, given that China is a vast and massively diverse country, I can only speak from the experiences that we had in Beijing, Chengdu and Xi'an - basically big cities in north and central China. We arrived at the start of March in a chilly and pretty drab Beijing. Grey, fairly characterless

aside from the Tiannamen Square and the Forbidden City in the centre, overrun with police/army/security and jammed full of people all plugged into their phones almost constantly. 

It wasn't a fantastic first impression, but we spent persevered and spent a few days exploring the sights - from the massive Tiannamen Square to the labyrinthine hutong alleyways dotted around the city. One thing that strikes you as soon as you arrive in China - and particularly Beijing - is just how polluted the city is. A thick smog is omnipresent, and rarely seems to lift. If the sun makes an

apprearance, it is shrouded by smoggy haze. And breathing is hard. Not gasping-for-breath hard, but uncomfortable enough that after a week you'll be laid up with a pretty nasty cough and cold. 

It's also frighteningly restrictive as a country in general, and seemingly even moreso around the major sites in Beijing. There are security personnel of some degree or another absolutely everywhere. Army, police, secret police, SWAT teams. They're everywhere. To enter the

train station/bus station/subway/Tiannamen Square/anything deemed remotely interesting you must queue and wait to be herded through various scanners and x-ray machines, while someone else checks your ID.

On our first afternoon in Beijing we decided to check out Tiannamen Square but soon realised that this is easier said than done. It's the largest 'public' square in the world and security is maximum. I'm not entirely sure what makes the square a public one though, because it certainly doesn't belong to the people. 

To cross the street - not even to enter the square - we queued in total confusion for 40 minutes. Surely this can't be right? Our protestations of "we just want to cross the street" fell on deaf ears. So we spent 40 FUCKING MINUTES in a queue just to cross the street. Hey, at least we can laugh

about it now. 

I feel uneasy at this level of restriction and suppression. There are sinister undercurrents to it in China - as though we are being scrutinised and spied upon all the time. I have never felt this in any other country so strongly before. Big Brother is watching us; suspicious and paranoid. This is definitely not shanti shanti. 

Entering a train station n Beijing, a security guard even asks me to drink from my water bottle, just to prove the contents is actually water and not something poisonous or flammable.

You can bet your last pound that any whiff of rebellion from the masses will be swiftly 'dealt with' before it's even had time to come to fruition. 

Aside from the pollution problem, I found the Chinese cities we visited to be on the whole very ugly and altogether characterless. Ubiquitous tower-blocks dominate the skylines, relentless traffic moves in an eerily silent fashion through the streets and industrial chimneys choke the air with more smoke,

more smoke, more smoke. Our only points of reference for navigating the vast urban sprawls were the obligatory McDonald's and KFC's that seem to be on every other street corner. 

There was a distinct lack of greenery too; of life in general. The people are compliant - understandably - but I felt that the cities lacked 'spice.' My notions of chaotic, bustling cities were completely off. People largely keep themselves to themselves.

There is none of the forthcoming vibrancy that you find in Delhi, for example. There is none of the frantic scramble that is Kathmandhu. The blend of modern and traditional that works so well in Kuala Lumpur just doesn't happen here. I have seen a lot of Asia over the past few years and I love it - the sheer diversity, the smells, the people, the experiences, the food - everything gels together in to a magical package that captivates from the word go.

I can say with conviction that China is distinctly un-Asian. It is like no incarnation of Asia I have ever experienced. There is a coldness; a veritable hostility that just ain't Asia. Don't get me wrong, the people are mostly pleasant enough, but out interactions we pretty limited. 

Which brings me to my next point.

The language barrier. Not so much of a barrier as a Great wall. Now, I know this is an ignorant complaint because my level of spoken Manadarin extends to Hello and Thankyou, but barely a soul spoke English to us in the entire time we were there. Even in the tourist information

points it was hard to garner much actual, useable information. Usually in such situation I rely on good on Google but.... The Great Firewall of China and all that!

Anyhow a language barrier is only a minor complaint when travelling. Sure, sharing a common ground for communication can unlock some wonderful information, some great insider secrets and help form bonds, but I've had equally fulfilling bonding experiences with people whom I never spoke a single word to. Alas this was not to be in China. 

My very last moan about China before I launch in to what I actually liked about it (there was a little bit, I promise!) relates to the money. China ain't cheap. In fact, it's probably cheaper to buy Chinese-made goods where ever else you are in the world. The accommodation (hostels for us) 

worked out at about 7 pounds a night each. Ok, so not extortionate, but not exactly cheap either, especially if you want to keep travelling for a while. 

Food can be anything from street snacks to local restaurants and won't break the bank as long as you choose wisely. Transportation is where you will really feel the burn in your pocket - particularly long-distance travel. Trains are generally chepaer than buses, but even still are on-par with European

prices. My transit costs in China are the most expensive I've paid anywhere in the world. If you want to see the sites in China, you can also expect to shell out a significant wad of cash for the pleasure. The Terracotta Soldiers outside the city of Xi'an has a very hefty 16 pounds entrance fee - I have never in my life paid so much for entrance to a museum. And it seems that we have to pay an entrance fee for absolutely everything. Even the local park round the corner form our hostel in Beijing charges admission. 

If you expect China to be cheap like the majority of the rest of Asia then think again. Not in the cities it isn't, anyway. 

But hey - it wasn't all bad. There are things that I found agreeable in China (like is perhaps too strong a word!). The beer is cheap - cheaper than water. Public transportation (subway/buses etc) is relatively straightforward, convenient and relatively cheap. And always ALWAYS on time. 

The food was not too shabby - even for vegetarian. On a few occasions I was stuck with a plate of egg-fried rice or generic noodles, but there were decent options around most of the time. Steam buns and dumplings always go down well, and they have these little egg-custard tart things that you can find everywhere that are delicious. And I'd now rate myself as an intermediate level chopstick-er, which I'm sure will be useful in the future...

A few of the markets we found were quite nice (if a bit touristy). Muslim Street in Xi'an is a foodies paradise, with an abundance of street stalls selling everthing from fried bananas to huge hunks of 'fresh' tripe. In Beijing, Wangfujing market sells everything from the sublime to the ridiculous;

live scorpions on sticks, deep fried spiders, starfish (who the fuck eats a starfish?), fried ice-cream, seahorses...

But the highlight - by far - of our cut-short trip to China was definitely our hike along the Great Wall. It's a truly incredible piece of architecture and engineering, and absolutely worth every penny. The Great Wall is not a continuous wall, but actually a series of separate segements

dotted around the countryside surrounding Beijing and neighbouring provinces. It's 100% advisable to escape the sections closest to Beijing (Badaling/Mutianyu) etc, as they are generally jam-packed with tourists, huge groups with guides, touts, shops, scammers etc. We went instead to Jinshanling section, about 140 kms form Beijing. 

It's fairly straightforward by public transport and so no pricey tour is needed. We spent an amazing day hiking the 10.5 kms between Jinshanling and another section of the wall, Simatai. It was spectcular - so peaceful, so quiet and almost completely deserted of tourists, bar a few wandering quietly along the wall, taking in the breathtaking views and marvelling at the sheer audacity of it all. When you see the specific location of the wall, it really is a marvel. Perched on top of sheer an craggy, semi-mountainous ridges - what a feat!

But that's enough about China for now. I'm in no rush to return any time soon, and feel pretty disappointed that I didn't like it much. In many ways I am not massively surprised though. Although I entered with an open mind, I knew that I had - and still have - a coldness in my heart/fairly strong

reservations when it comes to the Chinese government's stance regarding Tibet (and human rights in general). Last year we spent several months in northern India, which is home to the majority of Tibetan refugees.

It was an education to say the least; more than can be understood from a book or a newspaper.

Of course this Tibetan stranglehold is not the fault of the average Chinese person , who is seemingly oblivious largely due to the sheer extent of state censorship - but it is difficult to reconcile this anyway. Tibet is not theirs, and yet it is treated like another province in China. They even have the gaul to feature the Potala Palace on their banknotes. It's abhorrent, I can say more no more than that.

This is the first country I've travelled in that I've actually disliked though, so this is quite a new feeling for me. But I guess you can't like everywhere you go. No regrets though - we wanted to go, so we did. 

Sadly, because we decided to cut our trip short but a couple of weeks, we decided to put our plans for Mongolia on hold for now. (It's still about -15 there at the moment). For another time! 

So now, we are in Java, Indonesia. Beautiful, friendly, relaxed and full of hospitality. It's incredible how a change of place and can radically change your mood and your feelings. 

Time to explore Indonesia now...

PS if anyone from the embassy in Edinburgh is reading this, can I get a refund on my Chinese visa please...?

Trekking the Annapurnas on a shoestring...

Trekking the Annapurnas on a Shoestring...

In July this year, while Nepal was still recovering from the most devastating earthquake in it's history, we decided to trek the moderately arduous but well-worn Annapurna Circuit; one of the most loved, most trekked and most challenging routes in the Nepalese Himalayas. 

It was also monsoon season.

We were also on a shoestring budget.

What could possibly go wrong?

Where to begin? Before we even arrived in Nepal, at the end of June 2015, me and Oscar had already decided that we were set on trekking the Annapurna Circuit.
Then, while we were still in North India, the earthquake struck. And it was bad - so bad, in fact, that the majority of Indian media outlets had pretty much relegated Nepal to the realms of near extinction. But we remained undeterred. We asked backpackers and trekkers arriving in to India from Nepal what they thought.
They almost unanimously said go.
So we had to go. We had to continue our trip, as planned.

While I'm all for well intentioned so-called "voluntourism", we had already pretty much decided that a couple of weeks of building houses or volunteering in an orphanage or such like wasn't actually going to be that useful for the people of Nepal, for various reasons that it is not necessary to recant here.
In fact, what Nepal needed - and still needs - is for tourists to return. The economy, which is largely built on outdoor pursuits, has taken a huge battering in recent months and the entire infrastructure of this country has been unjustly affected. The majority of trekking routes are completely stable - but have been completely abandoned.  Cities like Pokhara barely saw a single brick out of place, but were almost immediately deserted by everyone but the locals and a few gap years voluntourists.
After arriving overland from India, Pokhara was our first destination in Nepal.  Neither of us particularly knew what to expect. Disaster zone? Refugee camp? Rubble? In fact what we were met with was nothing of the sort. Like I said - there as barely a brick out of place. The only untoward thing we could see was a distinct lack of tourists. Okay, so that was in part due to the imminent onset of the July monsoon - but nonetheless, there was a distinct lack of people.  Hotels were empty, restaurants were empty, trekking shops were empty; the whole tourist area of the city centred around Fewa Lake was like a ghost town.

After a few days adjusting to a new type of monsoon (the Delhi monsoon just about killed both of us) and hanging out in the hospitals and pharmacies of Pokhara trying to help Oscar rid himself of the very nasty bout of food poisoning he picked up in Delhi, we decided it was time to prepare for the trek. 14 days circumnavigating the Annapurna Circuit. 200 kms walking, starting in the village of Besi Sahar (820 meters altitude) and peaking at a staggering 5,416 meters at the Thorong-La Pass - the world´s highest mountain pass - before descending in to the magical and mythical Mustang region, following the route of the mighty Kali Gandaki River. 

Pokhara is a great base for trekkers.  It offers a glut of trekking and climbing supply shops and expedition and trekking agencies.  There is quite literally something for every type of trekker, whether you are a novice or a professional. The equipment on offer varies from shoddy imitations of branded goods, to remarkably good copies, to the real deal. Every budget is catered for.
And if you are unconfident about embarking on the trek solo (or rather, unguided and sans Sherpa), you can sign up to be herded about and have your bags carried for you.
Me and Oscar decided that we were going rogue. No Sherpas, no tour guides, no schedule.  Just the two of us, a map and the mountains.

After obtaining our permits (ACAP and TIMS, both vital or you will not be allowed to trek - more on getting these and costs at the bottom), we practically sprinted around Pokhara buying supplies.

What do you need for 2 weeks trekking in Nepal during the monsoon?

If you're carrying your own bags, pack light. In reality, you need half of what you think you need. Economy is key. I took a small day-pack with me, with about 8 kilos of gear, while Oscar took a slightly larger bag with about 10 kilos of gear. Not much for 2 weeks, when you consider we also opted to cook our own food en-route. Here is a summary of the basics required...

⦁ Good hiking boots. Preferably with ankle support. You'll be living in these for the best part of a fortnight.
⦁ Lightweight mountain pants. You're going to need ones that keep you cool and fresh in the often unbearable monsoon heat, but that also dry pretty quickly. Downpours are torrential ( and I can say this with gravitas because I live in Scotland!)
⦁ A baseball cap, or hat. I cannot stress this one enough. My only regret was not taking one. Schoolboy error. The sun is very, very strong and I could often feel my skin actually blistering, even with SPF 50.
⦁ SPF 50 +. Ditto the above. A vital part of your kit. Slather it on every day - and try to avoid cheap generic brands. They don't work. My red raw peeling nose was a testament to that.
⦁ Packable rain jacket. We bought super-fashionable and super sexy rain ponchos, big enough to cover us and our backpacks, but small enough to pack away in to a tiny space.
⦁ 1 litre water bottle, and packs of water purification pills. Refill your water along the way at the designated stations, or fill up from rivers and waterfalls and pop a purification pill in the bottle. Save money (pre-packaged water is ridiculously expensive en-route) and save the environment. No one wants to see another plastic bottle bobbing about the Himalayas. There are cheap refill points available at villages en-route, and at altitudes of over 3000 meters its safe and delicious to fill your bottle from the plentiful waterfalls en route.  Alternatively, water purification tablets can be picked up in Pokhara for as little as Rs40 for a package of 10. Otherwise, mineral water will cost you almost 10 times the regular retail price.  Plastic pollution is also a blight, even in the highest of the Himalayas.  Your mantra while trekking should be along the lines of “leave nothing but a footprint.”  It´s a no-brainer!
⦁ Walking poles.  Not so much for the way up as for the way down. My knees wouldn't have survived the descent from Thorong-La to Mukthinath without at least one.
⦁ A few warm clothes. It may be monsoon and therefore a hot and humid, but you may actually still encounter some freak weather - snow storms and the like. Don't get caught out. Take a light scarf, some gloves, cost socks and a some thermal baselayers.
⦁ Snacks. Of course you can buy snacks en route but at vastly vastly inflated prices. You may want to think about taking a decent amount of food supplies with you. Snickers, granola bars, nuts etc. Most of the weight in our backpacks was in food supplies, not in equipment. We actually took our own small pot and camping gas/diffuser set with us too, so that we could cook our own breakfasts. I took a bag of porrige oats and a jar of honey and that was me set for 2 weeks. Oscar took pasta and some tortilla wraps, and bought veggies and other ingredients in the villages along the way.  If you are a strict and pretty tight budget like we were this is a great way to save money - the cost of meals along the way is pretty steep. Think Rs300 for a basic bowl of porridge. The entire 1kg bag I bought cost less a fraction of the price, and last more than 2 weeks.
⦁ Toilet paper. If you use it, take your own.
⦁ Medical supplies. Anything you need, take it with you.  There are a few clinics and health centres on the way but they are only supplied with the basics, and given that we trekked in the off-season, may not eve be open.
⦁ Toiletries. Seriously, you only need the bare minimum. Shampoo (we took sachets to lighten the load), deodorant, plasters/blister pads, SPF, small first aid kit, toilet paper, insect repellent, laundry soap bar. Anything else is a waste of space.
⦁ Clothes Pegs. A few of these are useful for hanging up clothes overnight. I only took one pair of trousers, 2 t shirts, some pyjamas and a limited selection of underwear. Most of it either got wet or saturated with humidity and had to be hung out to dry every night.
⦁ Garlic. It helps with altitude sickness.
⦁ Torch. It gets pretty dark and power cuts are common.
⦁ Swiss Army Knife. I barely leave my house without it.
⦁ Carabiner Clips. Universally useful.
⦁ I-pod/book/journal/playing cards/camera etc. Something to occupy you when you're not trekking
⦁ Salt. For the leeches... Seriously. It's monsoon and they are out in force.

And that's it. Along with some cash, ID, a decent map and the permits, this is it. Vamonos!

DAY 1 - Besi Sahar - Bahundanda. 17 kms

Our first days on the trek were a real mixed bag. Day 1 was actually a lot duller than I expected. The real jaw-dropping landscapes and mountain vistas don't appear until a good few days in to the trek. The first 2-3 days are spent hiking on a dirt road, though rice terraces and are mostly pretty forgettable in terms of being challenging or remarkable.  Or at least they would be had I not been struck with the most chronic and hideous bout of food poisoning I think I've ever experienced before. Most likely caused by a bad egg procured in Besi Sahar....
By the end of day 1 I am in tears; an emotional and physical wreck, crippled by the agony one bad, bad egg. We've already walked for 6 hours and reached the first stop-off village to bed down for the night, but I'm having doubts about whether I'll be able to carry on. I'm hopeful that a good sleep and some rest will cure me...

Accommodation along the way is simple, usually in the form of tea-houses or guest houses which offer basic rooms - price dependent on the season of course.  In high season expect to pay upwards of 300 Rs per room. In low season, rooms are often a quarter of the cost - or even free, if you agree to eat at least 1 meal in your chosen place.  We find a basic room for night and crash out before 8 pm, listening to the gathering thunderstorm in the distance - and in my belly.

ACCOMMODTION (Hotel Kalika) - Rs100 each
FOOD/DRINKS - Rs 275 each

Distances and altitudes of all the key places on the way

DAY 2 - Bahundada - Jagat. 8 kms :-(

Day 2 offers absolutely no improvement whatsoever. I feel worse than before, but we know that we have to progress on the trek. We've only been walking for a day - there's no way either of us want to be held up right now, regardless of how I am feeling.
By midday I've had to dive in to bushes around 12 times to purge the evil out from my system, and I'm almost completely dependent on my walking pole to keep me upright. Energy low, fluid low, no appetite, sweaty mess. It's horribly humid, I'm beyond boiled and formulating plots to leave; to find a jeep to get me back to Pokhara. But that's going to cost - and not just pocket change. I'm not ready to fork out my dignity, pride and a significant pile of cash on bailing after one day.
Thankfully Oscar - who had just been in the local hospital receiving treatment for severe food poisoning - still had a stash of antibiotics on him. I take one of everything, and then an extra one for good measure in the hope that it kills whatever poison is lurking inside. ACCOMMODATION (Mont Blanc Guesthouse) - Rs 50 each
FOOD/DRINKS - Rs 200 each

Some new pals

DAY 3 - Jagat - Dharapani. 15 kms

...And the antibiotics have take effect! I feel significantly better. The landscape is improving with every kilometer, despite the rain and low cloud. As well as encountering a massive field of ganga to hike through, my legs are besieged by leeches (a veritable bloodbath and full on panic ensues), and we encounter a truly massive and very dangerous landslide that we are forced to climb over.
ACCOMMODATION (New Tibet Guest House) Rs 75 each
FOOD/DRINKS - Rs 360 each

Aforementioned field of ganga

DAY 4 - Dharapani to Chame. 16 kms

We've finally left the humidity of the rice terraces and are trekking through forest. We've also increased the altitude - which means no more leeches. Thank god!
ACCOMMODATION (Namo Buddha Guest House) Rs 50 each
FOOD/DRINKS - Rs 300 each

New pals, curious as to what we're up to... (cooking, by the way!)

DAY 5 - Chame to Gyarhu. 19 kms

The first 13 kilometers were pretty easy but after this, it got a little trickier. We decide to take an alternative route to Gyarhu, a village quite literally at the very top of a steep hill. The last hour hiking up was extremely tough - it's steep and the thin air is taking its toll. Sunburn is becoming an issue - factor 50 just isn't cutting it! The village is incredible; quaint, quiet and covered with wild berries, mint and yak bones.  And it has astounding views of Annuapurna II, Annapurna III and the Gangapurna, especially from the prayer flags at the edge of the mountain. This village is unmissable!

ACCOMMODATION (Yak Ru Guest House) - Rs 25 each
FOOD/DRINKS - Rs 300 each. We also spent an additional Rs250 on some damn fine yak cheese. Nothing worse than a dry cracker!

Just outside Gyarhu (excuse the headwear...)

Annapurna II peeking through the morning mist

Day 6 - Gyarhu - Manang. 15 kms

An easy start to the day, with a nice 4 hour descent from Ghyaru. Beautiful villages en-route to Manang. Even Manang - the last "big" village before the Thorong-La pass is nice- a good place to restock for the challenge ahead, and acclimatise to the high altitude. It's advisable to spend 2 nights here to allow your body to fully acclimatise, but as we arrived pretty much straight from Ladakh in North India, we were well acclimatised and didn't feel the need to stop.
Small shops, a medical centre, some 'cinemas' (in the season) and a glut of accommodation available. Possibly the last village where hot water is available for free - but only by the bucket. So wash and do laundry here, or live to regret it!

ACCOMMODATION (Glacier Dome Lodge) - Rs 50 each
FOOD/DRINK - Rs 300 each. We also had to pay to charge electronics here - this is pretty common so high up. It was Rs50 to charge a battery back to full.

DAY 7 - Manang - Thorong High Camp. 17 kms

A very tough and very wet 17 kms. I was sure that we'd have encountered the fabled "rain shadow" by now, but sadly not. We started the day at 3,450 meters in altitude in Manang, and finished at 4,925 meters, at High Camp. The landscape is remarkable and we can hear the mountains echoing around us; moving and talking. We see Himalayan Blue Sheep, some eagles and a few foxes as we ascend to high camp. It's a dangerous path, plagued with landslides, and every footstep is critical. I'm even afraid to speak to loudly in case something is triggered.
The last hour climbing is so hard, the route is incredible steep and pretty treacherous. Calves on fire. High Camp is a collection of freezing cold huts, pretty much on top of the world. We share a single bed and sleep almost fully clothed.

ACCOMMODATION (Thorong High Camp) - Rs 175 each
FOOD/DRINK - Rs 375 each

En route to high camp

Himalayan Blue Sheep

Day 8 - Thorong High Camp - Thorong La Pass....and back again :-(

An awful day, and one of the scariest I can recall. I'd go so far as to call it an unmitigated disaster. Woke up early intending to ascend to the pass and cross nice and early. Visibility extremely poor (only a few meters), and really shocked to discover a freak snow storm as we appraoched the top of the route. I cannot see the way-markers, the snow is rapidly accummulating and the lack of oxygen is making it harder and harder to breathe. I become disorientated and begin to panic; blizzard conditions, terrible visibility, and no idea of which way is the right way to go. Thoughts become focussed every mountain tragedy story I've ever read...I've convinced myself I'm going to freeze to death. Or be mauled by a snow leopard...
I can't progress like this; it's just not possible. So after 2.5 hours walking, we are forced to turn back...back to High Camp and back to the freezing cold hut. It's so cold on the descent back that I actually have to use a hypothermia blanket. We pray that the weather will improve the following day. Very disappointed.


DAY 9 - Thorong High Camp - Thorong La pass - Mukthinath. 14 kms

What a difference a day makes! We set off at 5.30 am, with  excellent visibility ahead of us, and even a little peek of blue sky! Despite around 1-2 feet of snow on the pass, we ascend in a couple of hours, and breathe in the spectacular views from the top. It's the best feeling in world; quite literally standing on top of the world. Did I mention that it's the highest mountain pass in the world? Possibly.
5,416 meters. Feeling fucking great.
But we can't afford to linger too long on the pass; it's cold and the air is thin. Time to descent. The way down is a lot larder that I could have anticipated, and I'm glad I've got a walking stick to take my weight. The view is like nothing I've ever seen before - perhaps only in Kashmir and Ladakh. Its hard to put that kind of beauty in to words. 
By the time we get to Muktinath, I'm feeling 50 shades of fantastic. Hot shower, bottle of whisky and pizza at Bob Marley cafe, all with the sun in my face.

ACCOMMODATION  (Bob Marley Guest House)  - FREE
FOOD/DRINK - Rs 600 each

Shangri-La... or rather, Thorong-La

5,416 meters

Descending the pass, in to Upper Mustang region

The view that goes on and on

And from here on in was the way down. A breeze, in comparison. I could continue with the excrutiating level of detail, but I won't. It was downhill, we walked, there were mountains, occasional challenges Blah blah etc etc.
The ony thing I will say is that the village of Marpha on the descent is absolutely worth stopping at. Just a beautiful, breezy mountain village with lovely old stones building are a real olde-world feel. Stop here or miss out!

Dirty Old River...the Kali Gandaki. A welcome companion in the descent...

And so goes our Annupurna diaries...

Over the course of 2 weeks, we walked as little as 10 kms some days, while others we pushed ourselves to cover as much as 24 kms.  Most days we began walking around 6 am, to avoid the worst of the blistering midday heat, and arrived at our next destination - one of the beautiful little villages on the trail - by mid afternoon, avoiding the evening rains. This left us plenty of time to shower, relax, do laundry, read and of course take plenty of photos of the breath taking landscape before our very early bed-time of 8pm.   Forget your city-schedule - for at least 2 weeks you´ll be firmly on “mountain-time.” 
All of the food prices listed above are for just one meal per day each. The rest we cooked for ourselves with the equipment we brought with us (sometimes to the obvious chagrin of food and accommodation providers en route...I get the feeling they aren't too happy about people doing this!)
Nonetheless the food along the way is surprisingly good...
Typically the fare offered is vegetarian, in the form of Dal Bhat (a thali meal consisting of rice, dhal, sabji and chapati), vegetable curries, fried rice and chow-mein. More equipped guest houses also offer meat dishes, pizzas and Nepalese momo dumplings.  Breakfast meals usually consist of eggs, porridge or muesli - ideal trekking energy food.  The price of food can be alarming at times - often 3 or 4 times the normal price, so you may wish to stock up on chocolates, granola bars and other energy foods prior to beginning your trek. The majority of the weight in our backpacks was actually food that we bought in Pokhara, simply to minimise our costs during the trek itself and to make sure that we were adequately stocked up.
In order to minimize the “footprint” that you leave behind, it´s advisable to stay in accommodations that follow eco-friendly practices.  That includes cooking with gas as opposed to wood fire, using organic and local produce and encouraging sustainability.  These are fragile and precious lands - and in order to preserve them for future generations it´s vital to adhere to the sustainability guidelines.  More detailed advice on how to promote sustainability are available from the trekking offices and check-posts en route.

The majority of the trails are in pretty good shape, although some can be considerably more challenging than others.  Not every day will be a walk in the park - but not every day will be exhausting either. Nonetheless the route is as universally suitable for fitness junkies as it is for inexperienced or older trekkers.  The Annapurna Circuit isn´t a race, nor is it a competition.  It is uniquely personal for every trekker. It is perhaps better to think of it as a mental challenge, rather than a physical one because the key to completion lies entirely within.  Oscar, who has now completed the circuit twice, believes that trekking the route is akin to undertaking a Vipassana mediation course (see my previous blog post on that adventure!) The peace and solitude that you find along the way allows for a great deal of self-reflection, while the mental and physical stamina that you summon to maintain motivation is a wonderful way to really understand what you personally- and what humans - are capable of. 
This way my first long-distance trek - and I´m absolutely sure it won´t be my last. All toenails present and correct after 2 weeks. 
Literally - and figuratively - you´ll be on top of the world!

Obtaining the relevant permission:

We trekked the circuit in July  - the height of monsoon season in Nepal and therefore “off season” for trekking - but nonetheless found the route to be hassle-free, enjoyable and very rewarding.  So what do you need to know?  Well, regardless of the season, all trekkers are required to have the relevant permits before entering the Annapurna Conservation Area. These can easily be arranged at the official office, located Damside in Pokhara, or through a reputable trekking agency in the town (although this will cost you considerably more).  Save money and go direct to the Damside office. The cost of the relevant permits (ACAP and TIMS) amounts to 4040 Nepalese Rupees altogether - Rs 2000 for the ACAP and Rs 2020 for the TIMS. Once you have these, you are free to start trekking!  There are checkpoints en-route that you MUST sign-in to, regardless of the season. These are listed on most Annapurna range maps.

Adventures in Himachal Pradesh - Manali!

Since we acquired the Enfield, we have been pretty non-stop with it, planning trips, cross-state journeys and adventures every couple of days.  It can be a fairly arduous task at times, planning your motorcycle routes in India.  There are a whole variety of completely vital factors to consider - Where are the petrol pumps en route? Is it a landslide prone area? Do we have to cross a mountain “pass” (usually fairly perilous)? Are there Enfield garages in the vicinity? Is there accommodation in case we are waylaid or halted by a roadblock?  And crucially - where can we drink chai en route?

So sometimes it’s nice - and totally worth it - to completely stop for a while in one place. Shrug off the constant planning and logistics and really get to know somewhere, only using the bike for smaller, side-trips when we feel like it.

For just over a month now we have been in Manali, in the Kullu district of Himachal Pradesh, enjoying the fruits of this completely bountiful and beautiful area.  We are staying in the touristy village of Vashisht, in the north of the Kullu Valley, the formidable mountains of the Rohtang Pass just to to the north of us.  Surrounded by green deodar forests, lush meadows give way to neatly packed terraces of apples trees and other crops, and the mighty Beas river roars through the valley, echoing from the snow-capped peaks that solemnly guard the serenity of the area. It’s a strikingly beautiful vista from the balcony of our flat; a little bed-sit with and attached kitchen and bathroom above a cow’s mews in the heart of the village that we have rented since we arrived.

Himachal Pradesh possesses one of the greenest lushest landscapes I have seen in India or otherwise- life blooms everywhere.

The Beas River from the bridge to New Manali

The saddest, most hard-done to dog in the world. She lives in Old Manali

The Solang Valley peaks and Beas River from Shanag village, just outside Vashisht

The climate is perfect for feeding the landscape here - hot, sunny and often very wet.  There are countless powerful and mighty rivers ripping and roaring through the valleys, fuelled by the glacial melt from the mountains as Summer approaches.  Flora and fauna flourishes everywhere; lizards bathe on sunny rocks, exotic birds breeze through the trees and the mountains are essentially just seas of green, plants growing and bursting in to life on every available surface, densely packed snow  appearing at the peaks.   Agriculture is a mainstay industry here, whether it be farming animals or crops.  Shepherds are out most days tending to their animals, usually sheep, goats or cows, preparing them for their Summer pilgrimage to the higher reaches of mountains and out of the soaring heat that will sit like a heavy fog in the valley in the coming weeks and months.  Local porters (usually women) are out constantly, transporting 40- 50kg bails of crops on their backs in plastic bins, rain or shine.  The market is ripe with local produce - juicy strawberries, peaches and mangoes, huge leaves of spinach, crisp apples and plenty of mysterious and never-before-seen 

root, leaf and stem vegetables that are indigenous to the area.

And of course, who can forget the most lucrative and abundant crop of all in Himachal Pradesh - particularly in Kullu and neighbouring Parvati Valley? Cannabis is a pretty big industry here too, and the region is famed for producing some of the best charas in the world.  Outside of the organised and very lucrative growing operations,  in much of the region, weed is aptly named - it is simply just a weed, growing free, wild and unkempt at the roadside, drowning under a sea of litter; of plastic bottles and old food packaging.  The generous height of some plants proves far more useful as a private place for locals to go to the toilet, than for cultivation and harvest.

The snow line at Gulaba on the Rohtang road

Biking around the Rohtang and Solang

Village e-route to Gulaba on the Rohtang Road

A beautiful cashew -seller in New Manali

But back to the bedsit in Vashisht village.  By a stroke of luck, we found this little place, above a cow’s mews, for the princely sum of £75 for a month. Vashisht and Manali are a few kms apart, separated by the valley and the Beas river, and connected by road via New Manali.

Freshly painted in an acidic pistachio hue, our new home also boasts an entirely concrete kitchen, 24-hour hot water (electricity permitting), a double bed, 2 plastic garden chairs and a plastic table, a small shelf and a vase with plastic roses.  Minimalist living takes on a whole new slant here.

In addition to this, we acquire a full 5kg gas bottle and unit for cooking from the local market for Rs 2000/£20. (refillable per kg for Rs100), and a few pots, pans and items of crockery from the caretaker (“The Ji”) to get us started.  It’s a total pleasure to be able to cook for ourselves again, and the local market has been a really brilliant source for us to cook super fresh and really healthy food for extremely cheap. This is the first time I’ve ever rented a place with a kitchen for a longer term period in India, so I’m completely gobsmacked at just how cheap it is really is to cook and eat fresh and healthy food here.  I thought our taste in local dhabas and thali-joints was about as cheap as the food could get in India - 50p - £1.20 per meal -  but sourcing the ingredients yourself is an entirely different experience.  I almost can’t believe the prices of food in the market - 30p for a kg of local spinach, or a kilo of ripe and juicy mangoes for £1 - it’s unbelievably good value to eat well here.  We have spent over a month now making Indian food for ourselves, and my chapatis are definitely improving :-)  It’s amazing what you can do with one gas bottle and hob unit, 2 pots and one spoon.

Having our own place here as also been pretty useful - we’ve been able to totally unpack for the first time in ages, and my scabby old bag has been relegated to “under the bed” status for 5 weeks now.  It feels good. We’ve had a base here in Vashsisht, and from this base we have been able to explore a lot in the surrounding areas - the Solang Valley, the road to the Rohtang Pass, lower Kullu Valley and the Parvati Valley.   

Even although we are deep in to May and officially “the season” here, Himachal Pradesh is still unseasonably rainy (as like much of India at the moment) - much of what we can feasibly do is weather dependent. Storms roll into the valley in what feels like a matter of seconds; clouds descend and linger for hours, eventually making way for earth-shattering thunder and lightning storms that out the power in the valley for hours on end, plunging us and all the familiar settlements dotted across the river from us in to absolute and total darkness - a darkness further shadowed by the formidable mountains above.   

Paragliding in the Solang Valley

A yak at Gulaba on the Rohtang Road

We were (in many ways) fortunate to arrive here pre-season, when the village was still a quiet, somnabulent hangover from a cold and snowy winter. Consistently cold and with only a few tourists to start with, we have watched Manali and the surrounding villages bloom (and consequently wilt)  in to fully-blow consumer tourist hubs almost overnight - the villages are jam-packed with tourists, both Indian and foreign.  The winding roads leading to the Kullu valley are congested beyond reasonable limits, with buses, coaches jeeps, Marutis, taxis and tuk-tuk’s, all fighting for their place on the Kullu Valley roads. Wealthy Indians flock here in summer time, escaping the searing heat of Mumbai and Delhi and Chandigarh for the relative fresh and cool air of Manali. Westerners appear in hoardes, mostly Russians and Israeli’s, who tend to dominate the scene in the Kullu region.   But the real beauty of Himachal Pradesh is that, no matter how congested it gets, it is always possible to find a quiet place, completely isolated. A rock next to a river.  A patch of meadow.  A terrace of apple trees. There is freedom and solitude  everywhere here. In  no other state in India have I felt so free and uninhibited. The freedom that Himachal offers is a rare gift in India, and one that all travellers to this diverse country must surely wish to experience.  This level of personal freedom - of inhibition and nomadic-ness - is truly pleasurable and fairly unique within India. In most other states in India I always feel, at some point, slightly harrassed, in general.  But here, in Himachal, this feeling almost ceases to exist. There is us, and there is the wilderness.

We’ve enjoyed plenty hot and sunny days here in the past few weeks, largely spent riding around on the motorcycle, out walking in the hills surrounding, or drinking local apple cider  while basking in the oppressive afternoon heat. The valleys around Kullu district are ideal for exploring by bike, and we spend days riding around in the Enfield, out to remote villages, to other tourist towns in the area, to serpentine roads that lead to snowy mountains and ice-packed glaciers.  52 kms north of Manali is the notorious Rohtang Pass - a perilous mountain pass connecting Kullu and the rest of Himahcal Pradesh to the extreme and very remote Spiti Valley and Leh/Ladakh/Kashmir areas of the country - mythical and very extreme landscapes. Rohtang (which literally means “piles of dead bodies”) is only open 4-5 months of year, and is a 3980 meter pass which allows a quicker route into both the Spiti and Kahsmir valleys.  For 7 -8 months of year, the pass remains tightly preserved under 40-50 feet of snow - come summer, the snow has melted and teams of road clearing guys have been out preparing the pass for the barrage of vehicular abuse that it will face during the summer season.  The Times of India estimated that 10,000 vehicles per day will attempt to get to - or across - the Rohtang during the season. 10,000! Gas-guzzling, tourist-packed jeeps, full of eager snow-seekers.  

The environment in these mountains is so fragile ecologically and environmentally that’s it worrying to contemplate the sheer degree of pollution and instability that they face daily that damages their very existence.  Prior to the pass opening at the end of June, any vehicle can only go so far as a village called Gulaba, about 15kms from Manali/Vashisht.  Apart from the snow-line, a large glacier, several yaks and plenty of tea and snack vendors, there is very little to Gulaba - it’s just a hot spot for Indian tourists to indulge in their obvious love of selfies! Nonetheless the drive there is stunning - mountains, villages, ponies, local women portering crops - the real rural idyll. In between Gulaba and Manali is the Solang Valley - a snowsport and adventure sport hub in Himachal, where you can try out paragliding and zorbing and skiing all sorts of supposedly adrenalin-boosting fun shit.   All at your own risk, of course. There are plenty of unregistered shyster-operators in the region, and accidents are not uncommon. Last week (May 2015)  a tourist from Mumbai was killed during a paragliding “ misadventure.” Be cautious when embarking on “adventure sports” in the region.   Even trekking can be dangerous, and pretty much all the guides we have read from the region warn travellers of the risks of going too far off the beaten track - over 20 backpackers have “disappeared” or been found dead (murdered) in the Kullu district (particularly Parvati Valley)  in the past 20 years, with whisperings that bandits and drug gangs are responsible.  

Mountain vista from Vashisht

The very rickety bridge from Vashisht side of the valley to Manali side of the valley

A couple of hours ride from the Kullu Valley is the Parvati Valley, one of the most revered mythically in the whole of Himachal Pradesh.  It’s home to religious fables and beliefs, to the abodes of meditating Hindu Gods and spiritual creatures and hot water springs that allegedly cure every ailment known to man.  It’s also home to the incredibly revered and special village of Malana, 3660 meters in altitude.  Believed to be the oldest democracy in the world, Malana is not accessible by road, but by mountain passes or trails, of which there are several that finally reach the village. The villagers believe that they are the only living descendants of Alexander the Great from his Indian invasion, and that they are therefore extremely pure and cannot be “muddied” by any outside presence.  They have their own entirely independent system of governance, and any visitors are expected to adhere to the strict  guidelines of the community: do not touch any person’s property whatssoever (or face a fine); do not touch any other person even inadvertantly -  especially a child (or face a fine); do not touch something (ie a banknote) at the same time as a local (or face a fine); don’t touch, photograph or sit near any temple area (or face a fine).  It’s fairly simple - existence is futile.

Nonetheless, we are curious about this fabled and legendary village, and want to see it for ourselves.  It’s tricky-ish to get to, and involves regisitering our passports at the entrace to the power plant outside Jari village, driving 12 kms along rough-but-beautiful mountain roads and finally trekking over 2 hours up a very steep and sweaty mountain.  But after 2 solid hours of climbing, we finally strike gold. Malana!  Fabled village! Home of Malana Cream - renowned as the best charas in the world! ...And what a great disappointment it is! We approach the village from the side of the mountain, and one of the first things we are struck with is how simply filthy the village is - totally filthy.  To date this is the highest altitude village we have been in in India - but also the dirtiest.   Plastic bottles, food wrappers and other garbage and waste cascade down the side of this unbelievably fragile and remote mountain village like a waterfall of shit. It’s pretty sad to see - an extreme and traditional village so plagued by the conflicts faced by every modern Indian community.  Not even Himalayan outposts are exempt from the Indian litter plague.   

Manikaran

The super-lush Parvati Valley

The village - aside from being filthy - is pretty tiny, and the typical Himachali homes are built in a terraced formation into the side of the mountain.  As we approach, we are met with a mixture of suspicion, hostility and curiosity - while being reminded by the local kids “NO TOUCHING” as they swerve past us to avoid contact on a narrow pathway.  A few local shopkeepers shoo us away from their premises, while other entreprenurial characters (including a man lying outside his finca hugging his goat) are amiable enough in their attempt to try  to flog us the finest Malana Cream.   And almost everyone is watching us with a sort of reserved hostility; as though just waiting fo us to make an expensive cultural blunder.  With their own unique governance, any tourist who makes some kind of “error” in Malana is completely on their own.  The police can’t help you here - tread carefully and follow the rules.  We decide to spend only a few hours in Malana.  Their dedication to self-preservation is quite incredible and rigorously adhered to, but it’s not a village I would necessarily hurry to return to.  There are countless beautiful, interesting and more cared-for villages around Himachal Pradesh - and India in general - that I would care to return to sooner than Malana.  

Sign -post to Malana - the only way is UP.

View from Malana village - 3660 meters

Typical Himachali house on the fringes of Malana

Also in the Parvati Valley region are the villages of Kasol and Manikaran, both popular in their own right.  Manikaran boasts a sulphuric hot spring at the temple in the centre of town (much the same as the hot springs in Vashisht) that is so abundantly hot that it feeds all of the guest houses and hotels in the village with round-the-clock roasting hot water.  Given that most of the “showers” that travellers tend to take in India are just buckets of hot water, it’s a real pleasure to be able to stand under hot running water again!  We spend an overnight in Manikaran, enjoying the tranquility.  Although definitely not the most beautiful settlement in the Parvati valley, it is a lot quieter than neighbouring Kasol village 4 kms away, which is an almost exclusively Israeli hangout.

It’s easy to see why Himachal - and the Manali area specifically is a tourist hot spot.  It’s wild, it’s free, it’s beautiful and it offers most travellers something - whatever it is that you are looking for. It’s little wonder that we have become rather rooted here!

Parvati valley - life everyehere

In a couple of days though, we will be back on the road again, en-route to Dharmshala, about 200 kms east of here.  As a rough plan, we will spend a few days enjoying the Dharmshala and McLeod Ganj area (home to the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan governe

ment in exile), before we attempt to make the 800km trip to Leh and Ladakh, through the remote and challenging Kashmir Valley.  Although the short cut to Leh via the Rohtang pass is almost open, we have been advised by a few Indian people that the route which takes us through Srinagar and Kargil and in to Leh from the west has better roads and a few more settlements en route than the Rohtang way, and should, in theory, be easier than crossing the Rohtang.

It promises to be an incredibly challenging journey through some of the most remote and volatile terrain in India (and perhaps even Asia) - so it’s back to meticulous planning and careful and considered riding.

Meanwhile, we have about a week of planning and preparation before we embark on this epic ride - plenty of work to do!

Manali/Vashisht

Accommodation - We stayed in Deepak Niwas, in the heart of Vashisht village.  Our little bedsit cost us 7,500 Rs for the month (starting pre-season), which works out a daily rate of Rs 250 (£2.50).  This is a great place to stay - the caretaker (The Ji) is a humble, kind and very organised man who bends over backwards to help us at every opportunity.  Accommodation costs vary gretly in the region, but backpackers are spoiled for choice here, and it’s easy to find a room in the Rs 300 region.  

Fuel - The cost of fuel is relatively steep here, and at the moment the fuel prices seem to always be on the rise.  As of May 2015, we are paying Rs 69-70 per litre of petrol.  Since we bought the bike 2 months ago, we have ridden over 2000 kilometers, spending only £40 in total on petrol!!

The road condition in Kullu are a mixed bag - some routes are in great condition, while other are reminiscent of the Shimla to Kalpa route that we did before. Landslides are still common here, as are potholes.  And now the season is coming in to full-swing, traffic is getting to be a bit of a headache!

Eating/Drinking - There are plenty of places to eat, local dhabas usually being the tastiest and cheapest option.  Alternatively, buy your own ingredients, a small stove and cook yourself! The market in New Manali is brilliant and you can get just about everything you will need here for super cheap.  A small shop selling gas bottles and stoves is located near New Manali Post Office.  When we are finished with yours, we will sell it on and recoup some money.  Local apple ciders and wines are available everywhere, starting at Rs 100 for a large bottle. They’re delicious!

Side trips and distances from Manali/Vashisht

• Naggar - 20 kms “down” the Kullu valley; a beautiful, peaceful village with a great art gallery dedicated to the life and work of Russian painter/jack of all trades Nicholas Roerich.  Also easily reached by bus from Manali.  Worth at least a full day here.

• Solang Valley - 11 kms north of Manali, just off of the Rohtang Road. Skiiing, a cable-car, paragliding, zorbing, quad-biking, trekking, climbing.  The Indian version of Butlins!

• Manikaran/Kasol - About 90 and 94 kms respectively from Manali.

• Malana - initially reachable from the village of Jari at the start of the Parvati Valley.  From Jari, turn off the main road to the Malana Hydro Power Project.  After registering passports with the security here, follow the power plant road for 11 kms through the mountains till you reach a small car park nestled at the foot of Malana mountain.  The path to Malana is sign-posted from here, and the village will take about 2 hours to reach.  It’s relentlessly uphill so be prepared and take plenty of water. At the start of the path, there are some signs spray-painted on the rocks in red showing the way.  THIS IS THE WRONG WAY.  Do not follow the red signs! You do not need to cross any river or body of water.  The only way is up - up the mountain! Malana is at the very top of the mountain, and there is accommodation available there if you are too knackered or jelly-legged to return.