I didn't crawl out of my sleeping bag until close to 10:00 this morning. I was still a little out of it from all the charas in my system. We set out on the path for Khir Ganga and found it to be a tricky start. There are many misleading paths that don't go to the holy land. Very metaphoric. The path we were on was a narrow rock face, which was no fun for a guy who still hadn't totally regained his equilibrium from the night before. We found our way safely, thanks to a European dude who was sitting on a rock in the middle of the woods. The rest was straight walking through the heat of mid-day. A few ups n' downs and one stop to refill our water and hit the chillum with two Israelis. About 30 minutes outside of Khir Ganga we came across a rambunctious group of Indians from New Delhi. They were in excellent spirits so we stopped and chatted with them and they gave us shots of whiskey. Then we went on ahead and entered the open valley of Khir Ganga- a heavenly spread of short, soft green grass with big rocks protruding through, amid a small ares of bohemian restaurants in the center. At the top was a natural hot-spring that cascaded down from the mountains. The Hindu religion has a lot of cool stories. This particular one about the hot-spring at Khir Ganga was about the Lord Shiva punching his fist into the earth to make the water forever hot so that his lovely wife could take baths.
We had arrived in the valley at the perfect time of day. The sun was painting it's own portrait and we stood and absorbed the entire setting for all it's worth. Then we set up at a table outside the first restaurant we saw. We ordered plain chapatis for 5 rupees and then added our own ingredients that we'd brought. This was how we planned to live during our time in the holy land. We each had brought a bag of vegetables, porridge mix and dried soups. We would only spend about 25 rupees at a time in the restaurants. It would take discipline. The restaurants had incredible menus and of course everyone around us had money to burn on the mouth watering dishes. For a few minutes I wished I was a kid again, in the car on the way to the Olive Garden.
We walked up past another outdoor restaurant and sat down at a table with our new Indian friends we'd met on the trail. Jon pulled out a bottle of orange whiskey he'd been carrying since Jari and we drank. Our Indian buddies ordered 8 pizzas and insisted that we eat with them so we did. Just before the sun went down we went with them up to the hot-spring and engaged in the tradition of bathing while praising Shiva. It was a better feeling than the whiskey and charas combined, and I found it difficult to climb out of there as the mountain's coldness crept into the valley. I put on all the clothes I had fit into my small pack and was warm n' happy.
We'd gotten so caught up in all the food and holiness and now it was dark and we hadn't found the rainbow people or a campsite to call our own yet. Out came the flashlights and off we went in search of a spot. It didn't take long to find a nice clean little patch, which we marked with a toilet paper "X" and then headed back to the restaurant to hang out with the Indians again. All we had left to do was score some firewood.
Our friends were eating large again. We got along with them so well that we made arrangements to meet them back in New Delhi in a few days. Then we said goodnight and went off into the open darkness on another mission to build a fire pit and find stones to set up around it. The act of sleeping in the wilderness with a fire and no tent has got to be one of my favorite feelings in life. I only wish we did it more often.
Read Day 39
We had arrived in the valley at the perfect time of day. The sun was painting it's own portrait and we stood and absorbed the entire setting for all it's worth. Then we set up at a table outside the first restaurant we saw. We ordered plain chapatis for 5 rupees and then added our own ingredients that we'd brought. This was how we planned to live during our time in the holy land. We each had brought a bag of vegetables, porridge mix and dried soups. We would only spend about 25 rupees at a time in the restaurants. It would take discipline. The restaurants had incredible menus and of course everyone around us had money to burn on the mouth watering dishes. For a few minutes I wished I was a kid again, in the car on the way to the Olive Garden.
We walked up past another outdoor restaurant and sat down at a table with our new Indian friends we'd met on the trail. Jon pulled out a bottle of orange whiskey he'd been carrying since Jari and we drank. Our Indian buddies ordered 8 pizzas and insisted that we eat with them so we did. Just before the sun went down we went with them up to the hot-spring and engaged in the tradition of bathing while praising Shiva. It was a better feeling than the whiskey and charas combined, and I found it difficult to climb out of there as the mountain's coldness crept into the valley. I put on all the clothes I had fit into my small pack and was warm n' happy.
We'd gotten so caught up in all the food and holiness and now it was dark and we hadn't found the rainbow people or a campsite to call our own yet. Out came the flashlights and off we went in search of a spot. It didn't take long to find a nice clean little patch, which we marked with a toilet paper "X" and then headed back to the restaurant to hang out with the Indians again. All we had left to do was score some firewood.
Our friends were eating large again. We got along with them so well that we made arrangements to meet them back in New Delhi in a few days. Then we said goodnight and went off into the open darkness on another mission to build a fire pit and find stones to set up around it. The act of sleeping in the wilderness with a fire and no tent has got to be one of my favorite feelings in life. I only wish we did it more often.
Read Day 39
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