Part 2, When the going gets tough, the tough get going..

So, where was I ? Yes, I'd made it to Rishikesh, all in one piece. That's where I finally caught up with the others. Sid, Baccha and Adrian, who had been slightly more fortunate than me as far as travelling logistics were concerned (only slightly though, for their version of events click here). From there we took a taxi, a fairly decent Ambassador all the way to Govindghat, our pitstop for that night. There are share taxis and buses to Joshimath, from where Govindhghat is just an hour away but we opted for the relative opulence of the clapped out Amby to save on time.


The taxi ride was fairly uneventful. There were a large number of rocks and boulders lying by the roadside, remnants of landslides from some days before. We were forewarned that July-August is landslide season in these parts, but the size of some of these boulders did get my heart rate up. The entire ride we followed the Alaknanda river, and we traced it as it cut through valleys, tracing it almost up to it's very origins. The scenery throughout was jaw-droppingly amazing. I enjoyed almost none of it though, with my head moving like a pendulum, as i drooled on one neighbouring shoulder and then the next. Occassionally I'd awake from this stupour and start clicking photos like a mad cockaroach with a bad case of the twitches before I reverted back to 'rest' mode as suddenly as I'd broken out of it. I followed this pattern for most of the entire ten hours our journey took. Even my driver was very sypathetic to my case and bore with a smile the frequent head butts he got on his shoulder as i nodded off to sleep in the front seat. The tip was definitely well spent on some jandu balm for his bruised shoulder.





I must say though, taxi drivers have the most bizarre taste in music! Mine was no different. Do they have music stores dedicated to cater to their eccentric tastes? I still remember one of the songs. The girl kept crooning about how she had lied at home about going to the temple but kept a romantic rendezvous instead while her lover reassured her she hadn't lied as she had come to the temple of love (pyar ki mandir or some such rot)! This one had us in splits and when it played again (and again, our driver's taste in music may have been eccentric but was limited to two tapes, which he played over and over) we were singing along with it too!


We were at Govindhghat by sunset and took up lodgings at the first in a long line of hotels, Kuber Guest House. Rooms were decent and bathrooms clean, so no hotel horror stories to report. We were there for just the night, as we had an early start the next day. The place was jam packed with pilgrims, Sikhs coming in from all parts of the globe to pay homage at Hemkund Sahib, the highest place of worship in the world! After visiting the local gurudwara, we had dinner at the restaurant getting the most foot traffic (Nano's, Nany's, or something like that). The food was standard Punjabi fare, with all it's desi ghee goodness. This was followed by gulab jamun and a glass of whole milk at the adjoining halwai (sweet shop). I could see my diet flying out of the window and rolling down the grassy slopes of the Garwhal mountains.


The next day we started out at 5.30am so that we could get a headstart and not get stuck in the pilgrim traffic. A good head start meant we were at the next town Pulna at 7.00 am, by which time we were ravenous. We stopped at the last in a long line of shops that lined the route and sat down for some well earned Maggi and chai almost at the foot of the Pulna waterfall. As we resumed our journey, we saw our 'restaraunteur' following us with a plastic bottle in his hand. Upon enquiry he informed us that he was out to go behind the bushes to complete his morning ablutions. Only on further enquiries was it revealed that we'd actually woken the poor bugger up from his sleep to make us our breakfasts! I was amazed! I would have been breathing fire if four city slickers woke ME up early in the morning demanding plates of Maggi and cups of tea but this man seemed remarkably well composed. Incredibly nice of the fellow I thought. If I were British, I'd probably say, 'Jolly good, old chap'.



The trek up to Gangria was long and ardous. We were breaking our backs to complete the 14km. Our backpacks felt like bags of lead dragging us down. Frequent Maggi stops not withstanding we'd have collapsed on the side of the road and been killed by a stampede of mules, who would have then probably defecated on us in contempt for blocking their path with our corpses. So imagine to my consternation when we came across a septegenarian(at least) Sardar who was slowly but surely making his way up with what seeme like no great exertion on his part. On seeing our sorry state he felt it was his duty to give us some advice. 'Akke baar guru ke darshan karne nikal padde to phir guru apki kalai pakar ke neele ghode pe baithake le jaata hai. Aap jisse bhi bagwan maane chahhe wo ram ho ya rahim bas usko apne dil me baitha lo aur aap phir rukoge nai baas chalte challe jaoge aur apne manzil tak zaroor pahunchoge', he said. He went on to say much more. Very profound stuff. Only one problem, my Punjabi, at best, is atrocious. So most of it went way over my head(except for something about a blue horse). I wish I'd paid more attention. Apparently it made the trek a lot easier for the others, but I do remember this: The intense conviction and faith that some of the old-timers seemed to have blew my mind away (even with the flying blue horses still floating around my head). With chants of "So bole sohnihal" following which the entire valley would echo with a "Sasriyakaaale...." these people were making their way up at an age when their peers may find an evening walk a challenge. It was truly inspirational. To me it really showed the power of faith and made me question my own views on God and religion.





The scenic beauty was another real show stopper for me. As we trudged along we came across innumerable spots where we just HAD to stop and stare in wonder. The river powering down the valley in full force was another aspect of the trek I found quite soothing. The only real annoyance was the packs of mules and horses taking pilgrims up and down. The more trips they made, the more money the owners could make, which meant that they were made to hurry up and down the hill side as many times as possible, even if it meant barging into the pedestrians and pulverizing them on the rocks to one side or plunging them into the river on the other.



Many a waterfall, and many a cascade of horseshit later we were finally at Gangria. We flopped into one of the first hotels we could find and settled in. We went out exploring the small town, taking in the sights, and generally limbering up for our next stop, the Valley of Flowers....