En route to Kinnaur, we made a short stop at Shimla. Just enough for me to nip down to India Coffee House and have a plate of their divine French Toast (easily the best in the world!).
From Shimla the route snakes through Narkanda and then right along the Satluj (passing through Rampur). The entire area is green, lush with pine trees and apple orchards, and some rather high-looking mountains. Our first stop was at Sarahan. This village had, like every other village in the surrounding areas, a breathtaking view. However, that is not what it is famous for. It is known for its Bheema Kaali temple (a rather pretty timber structure, that looks more like a modernist architect’s imagination than an old temple). No leather, no cell phones are allowed inside and (unusually for a temple) you have to cover your head when you enter.
The HPTDC hotel at Sarahan (named ‘Shreekhand’) has an amazing view but the staff (since the hotel is Government run) take their paper work rather seriously. A couple (who had driven all the way from Delhi) did not have one requisite paper with them and the hotel staff would not check them in. The lady decided that losing her cool with the staff would only make matters worse so she did the next best thing available to her – she started screaming at her husband for not taking the printout (“eik kaam bola tha, aur woh bhee nahin kiya. Ab yahaan dhoondo internet cafe”).
Next stop was Sangla valley. The river Baspa runs through this extremely picturesque valley. However, that is not the only thing that snakes its way through the valley – I did spot a number of creepy crawlies (and that was enough to give me either sleepless nights, or sleep with scary dreams of being trapped in a cageful of snakes). Anyway, I did avoid being at the wrong end of a snake and the rest of my time at Sangla was uneventful (reptile-wise). However, the rain Gods decided to play spoilt sport. We were in the valley for 48 hours and it rained (heavily) for 47 of them. The one hour it did not rain we were at Chhitkul.
Chhitkul is the last village in the region before the Tibet border. Though it is like any other hill village, my visit there was made fun by the fact that it was 15th August that day and Independence Day celebrations were on at the local school. School children of all shapes and sizes got together to give a slightly off-key yet moving rendition of Jana Gana Mana. The ‘chief guest’ was the local Gram Panch who gave a predictably boring speech about how the day is important and how the village is doing better than every other village in India, and how he’s personally responsible for that progress. Yawn. Then a young boy read a small write-up on Swadheenta Diwas (which brought back some rather painful memories of school and homework!). The midst of his meticulously prepared speech, the power conked off and this young fellow had to shout at the top of his voice to be even heard in the front row. This was followed by a folk-dansey sort of routine - the lyrics to which, as far as I could tell, were making fun of men, women, boys, girls, old men, and old women (i.e. just about everybody). So all in all, a rather entertaining Independence Day celebration.
From Sangla, we moved to Kalpa. It had been 15 years since I last visited this sleepy hamlet but it was as beautiful as I remembered it to be. From our hotel, one could get a view of this small village below and if you looked up you could see some mighty snow-clad peaks including the holy Kinner Kailash (it makes for a beautiful scene). I spent a leisurely evening in the village chatting up with shopkeepers, and some tourists at the local tea establishment which had a hand-written sign that said, “bekaar baithkar sharminda na karein”. This got me thinking – thought thankfully not for too long.
Later in the evening there was a buzz in the village as it was the day when a Goddess (i.e. statue) from a nearby village ‘visits’ Kalpa. The local deity is carried to the town square to ‘welcome’ the visiting Goddess. Almost the entire village was there. And there was quite a lot of music and revelry. An evening well spent.
Our next stop was the village of Nako. Again a picturesque village with a lake and a rather interesting monastery. From there we moved onto Spiti Valley. We had originally planned to do a round circuit – from Chandigarh to Shimla to Kinnaur to Spiti to Manali and then back to Chandigarh. Because of incessant rains, the road between Manali and Spiti was blocked for over 10 days so we had to choice but to retrace our steps back from Spiti. It meant that we missed Chandratal Lake (oh well, there is always a next time!).
As one moves out of Kinnaur, into Spiti, the landscape changes dramatically. In Kinnaur there is greenery all around, whereas Spiti is very brown and dry. Sort of like Ladakh.
Our first stop in Spiti was at Tabo, which is one of the more different monasteries – whilst most of the monasteries (in Ladakh or in Spiti) are usually on precipitous cliffs – Tabo is on level ground (though at an altitude of 3,330m). This monastery, set up in AD 996 by Rinchen Zangpo, has around 9 temples with beautiful wall paintings and is sometimes referred to as the ‘Ajanta of the North’.
We stopped for a couple of nights at Kaza, which is at around 3600m. Though there is not much to do at Kaza, apart from marvelling at the stunning landscape that surrounds the town, an interesting local fair was on and people (in all sorts of colourful dresses) had come from far and wide to make their purchases there. I looked and looked but couldn’t find anything to buy (from among the sickles and handkerchiefs that were being sold).
From Kaza, we made short trips to Kee monastery and a couple of villages. Imagine a really picturesque monastery hanging on a cliff, against the backdrop of the wide expanse of a valley, with snow clad mountains in the distance. I went and plonked myself in the main prayer hall where the monks were chanting and praying (which I’ve always found a bit fascinating). Whereas most of the monks were seriously chanting there was this particular monk who was very amused with something on his cellphone and tried to share it with his disapproving neighbours.
The two villages we visited were Kibber and Langzo. Being at approx. 4200 m and 4300 m respectively, both are routinely quoted as being the highest inhabited villages in the world. But both villages looked like places I could settle.
Unfortunately, that was not to be and I had to retrace my steps back to the plains and ‘civilisation’. Bugger!
