A freezing cold blast of air hits your face
as you step out of the rickety, crowded jeep which finally pulls to a stop
after 4 hours of racing around razor sharp bends on the edge of mountains. Your
lungs labour to draw deeper breathes as the thin air is starved with Oxygen.
Stalls surround you selling a multitude of bottle, pictures of gods and various other knick-knacksouvenirs. Signs in
misspelt English assure you that there is ‘pissa’ on offer at ‘restuarants’ and
high quality ‘servis’. Pilgrims shamble along the paved street, leading to the
temple, bare foot and wrapped in blankets – completely unprepared for the cold
of 3000m. Beggars, cripples and Sadhus (renunciate, holy men) sit in at the
side of the street wherever there aren’t shops, forming a tunnel toward the
temple. This is Gangotri, high in the Himalayas, the last human settlement on
the Ganges before the trek up to the source at Gaumuk.
I knew that it would be cold but when we
arrived I was still shocked. In the 35 degree heat of Rishikesh a few days
earlier it was hard to imagine what 0 degrees feels like. Ok, it wasn’t always
0, it probably got up to about 8 and down to about -2. Never the less it was
freezing and although we had brought some clothes with us they were certainly
not enough. In our frozen state we agreed to go with the first man who offered
us a room, looking it over briefly we agreed, just so that we had somewhere to
put some more layers on and put down our bags so that we could buy some wool
jumpers. At a glance my cold addled brain thought that this place was clean
enough, however in a warmer state we realised that the room smelt of damp, part
of the blanket smelled like pee and one of the windows was broken (though we
ingeniously sealed it with a pillow case, however this showed us how filthy the
pillows were so, swings and roundabouts I guess). It is strange what you will
overlook when your needs feel dire.
The next day we explored Gangotri, a small
touristic village flowing with pilgrims. They come from all over India, go
straight to the temple, via buying from the stalls and then fill up little
bottles of water from the river. Although the temple looked nice enough from
the outside it was not our reason for being there. We were here for the
mountains towering over either side of the river and the trek up to the source.
At this level pine trees cover the valley, creating the illusion that you might
just be in the alps. Though the hordes of Indians and distinct lack of
Norwegians & dogs with whisky barrels around there necks makes you realise
were you are. Even more so the lack of log cabins, for somewhere so cold you
would think that people would have the decency not to build everything out of
corrugated iron and have a couple of places with roaring fires. But no, every
restaurant is open and not a fire or a shot of brandy in sight. Indian does not
know who to do cold climates.
We started the trek by going along the
wrong path and having to clamber up a sheer goat path to get to the entrance of
the national park. As soon as we were clambering up that path I knew that I’d
missed this. This feeling for connecting with nature by clambering all over it,
feeling my body warming up as my legs and arms propelled me up the face of a
mountain. Blue skies, truly fresh clean sharp air, the sun on my face, the wind
whipping the warmth from me. God I love hiking. I’d forgotten how much I
enjoyed the purity of that connection, the simplicity, the space, the ability
to think about anything or not think at all and just be in wonder at the
majesty and beauty of nature.
The scenery slowly changed, step by step
the pines became sparser, silver birches with no leaves began to appear and
then slowly fade out into shrubs inhabited by the occasional herd of wild
mountain goats. Birds of prey flew with swift simple ease above us as even the
shrubs gave way to a rocky desert like land. All this high above the river,
occasionally crossing over tributaries, with its gentle roar always in the
background. This valley has been shaped by the river, a line appears in the
rock, the colour changes where the river swells during monsoon. Occasional
landslides are seen and several gashes in the mountains appear from other
smaller rivers that connect to the main on.
We arrived at the base camp 20 minutes
before it started to snow. Within moments the landscape was blanketed in white,
like a winter wonderland. It was a pleasure to see my Australian friend, who’d
never seen snow, stair in wonder, like a child, at the flakes wafting down
through the sky. Peaks of mountain rages hidden in clouds on either side of us
were black and white, perpetually capped in snow that now matched the surfaces
all around us. This trek is not in season so there weren’t many people at the
camp and the only food was super noodle, YUM, just what a hiker needs.
The next morning we hike to Gaumuk (4000m)
where the Ganges begins. The path gets closer to the river and you can see the
aqua marine pure blue and white of the water. The path eventually stops at a
little shrine. One arriving here I felt a sense of triumph, I’d made it, just
me and my friend liz, no porters, no cooks, no guards, just us making our way
up through the Himalayas on this adventure. But that wasn’t were the magic
happened. The shrine is not at the source, the path stops and you have to
continue over rocks and make your own way. It’s a treacherous and tricky climb
especially since everything was covered in snow but slowly, slowly we made it
up to the source.
There is a sort of silence, no sound apart
from the rushing of the water. The sun finally crested the peaks and flooded
the valley with light as we arrived. The Glacier stands still, barely
indistinguishable from the mountain face, solid as rock you can only tell it by
the slight hint of blue where it’s not covered in snow. You walk up to it, up
to the source of this river that winds all the way through India to the bay of
Bengal, that gives life to so many and it strikes you. The water moves
continuously, flowing pure, it seems to come from nowhere, it just appears, one
moment it is solid the next it flows and is gone. It keeps changing, pure and
untouched by human hands it reminds you that life is always changing, in flux,
the only moment we have is the now because life is change. We like to think
that life is the same, that we can predict the future from the past, that
‘change is hard’ – but the reality is that life is a river, parts of it might
look similar one moment to the next but they are never ever the same, life is
change. Our previous experiences give us expectations and assumptions about the
future but the past can never give you a prediction of the future, the past is
already gone and the future is unknown – we are flowing through the river of
life, shifting, moving, changing. If we resist it then life becomes a struggle,
imagine a part of a river trying to hold on a certain place, trying to attach
itself to a certain bend or rock – impossible. Just imagine the resistance that
would create, how hard and painful that would be, to try and hold on to that
one thing. But if the river lets itself flow, then there is no resistance, life
is a joyful journey floating freely. One cannot control the journey or see the
destination but one can direct the flow in the now and enjoy the ride.
The purity of it, the silence, the deep
blue and the shiftingmotion brought all this and more to me. This place is
sacred, a place touched by divinity. A place where the true nature of the
universe shines forth. I can understand why Hindus worship this river as a god
for truly it is in moments like this that I can see the divine in the world.
I picked up a smooth black stone that
called to me, stood in silence with it, putting into the stone all that was
holding me back: my fears, expectations, assumptions, anything that was
stopping me being who I am, being free. Then I threw the stone into the source,
which immediately swallowed it and in a moment it was gone as if it had never
been there. I ‘Swarhar’ed it, a ritual in the yogic tradition where you cast
off something by offering it to a fire or river, and I felt a weight lift off
of me – it was a symbol of my casting off those things and I felt the pure cold
water wash them away. I can see now why the Jewish tradition has tashlich
(ritual with casting into water) and I don’t understand why I’ve never done it,
to be able to signify your dedication and determination by physically casting
off is a strong ritual indeed. (I think that I’m gonna have to run one this
year, yes sir. I love when what I learn from one tradition links in with my
own. Great stuff world that has bits of shared truth in it, good work.)
----------------------------
Now I’m back in Rishikesh. The trek back
down was long and the jeep rides back to Rishikesh even longer. My shoulders
still ache. But I’m here now and I only have two more weeks in India, less now
actually. I’m in the last leg of my journey.
I’ve been thinking about how much this trip
has had an impact on me and what I will take back home with me to my default
life. Every section has given me something different. The first month I got to
know India, I got to be by myself, meeting new people every day, making lots of
frienships with a wide range of people and seeing a lot of places. The last
month was a deep search within myself, learning about yoga, meditation and
silence. The last week I’ve spent with just one other person and the mountains.
In a couple of days I will no longer be here by myself, my last 10 days will be
spent in the company of the Lovely Sarah Lamb. I miss home and a part of my
home life is coming out to meet me – which I am sure will be a different India
to India alone.
I can see the end of my journey loaming in
the distance. Part of me is already planning my summer. Though I am taking the
advice of yoga and my good friend Sam, be here now, because home will be there
then, travelling is not something I will be able to do all the time. But I know
that I will have to do it again. It’s a transformative experience. To get out
of your old habits and experience life anew, to get a change of perspective on
your society and your self is so amazing. Somebody showed me a poster yesterday
which comes to mind; a girl is back flipping off a cliff into the ocean and the
tag line says ‘life begins where your comfort zone ends’. I could not agree
more, comfort is all well and good but too easily becomes stagnation. To push
oneself out of ones comfort zone however one does not need to be in India or a
far flung country, so when I return I am going to bring some of this travelling
attitude back with me. I am going to look at things with open eyes. I am going
to explore London and the rest of the UK as a traveller (especially since being
a Londoner I am typically ignorant of the rest of our gorgeous country). I am
going to smile to people and occasionally say ‘Hi’.
Life is a journey and I am a traveller. In
the future I know that I will have to go to other interesting places because
there is so much to see in this world. But no matter where I am I intent to
experience as much as I possibly can. Life is full of so many experiences and
when one goes through them with open eyes rather than the same doldrums lids of the everyday then life is joyous and amazing.
So, if you ever want to have a new
experience, especially one that pushes you out of your comfort zone, give me a
call, I’d love to join you.
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