(The Oh-So-Good sunrise at Keylong)
Last afternoon, when we had checked in, we had spotted and inquired about the three ancient monasteries that surround Keylong. It so turned out that one was about 15 kms away, the other about nine, and the third was about three kilometers away. The third one seemed like an easy bet. We decided to pursue this one for the three odd hours we had till our bus from Manali would arrive and pick us up en route to Leh. And then reality dawned. It so happens, that three kilometers on a mountain is a different ball game altogether. Whats more, the high altitude made the simplest of tasks difficult and cumbersome, let alone climbing a steep slope to a monastery. Gussu and Dhar fell away with exhaustion as Manu and I started the long, steep and dangerous climb to the monastery. The slope kept getting steeper by the minute and for good measure, some loose gravel was also thrown in. At this point Manu and I realised that it wasn't so much going up, as coming down that was the problem. A short while later, a breathless Manu also stopped and decided to wait for me for about half an hour. The top still looked a fair distance away, but I laboured on. I went on for about another 20 minutes and at every turn, a new bend appeared on the other end of the mountain. The road just never seemed to end. It was about then that I decided to abandon the attempt and go back down. As I clambered back down the steep forty degree slope, a sure footed shepherd with his sure-footed sheep crossed m
y path, smiling away at the poor city boy's plight! I was stepping very carefully as the the downhill path was literally flooded with loose gravel that I could easily slip and slide on. Around ten steps into the cumbersome procedure, the shepherd decided to ask me why I was "limping". It took a few minutes to explain to him how us city folk don't have their feet and can't walk on mountainsides to save our life! ((Right)First failed monastery attempt)As we got off the mountain and started walking back to our hotel, we happened to notice very deep chain marks on the road. As we headed further up, we got a first glimpse of what was going to come our way on the road to Leh. The river had washed away a part of the road, preventing some trucks from crossing and an earth mover had been called in to move rocks into the river's path. Those were the chain marks we had seen a few minutes back. After having seen the action on the sidelines for a while, we decided to get some excitement ourselves. We voted to cross the river on foot. The first dip in the water was paralysing. The icy water sucked the breath out of all of us as we stepped into the water. An arduous fifteen minutes later we had all figured out a route to the other side and crossed over. Relieved, and excited we headed back to our rooms to wait for our bus, and then Gussu darted in with the bad news.
(Crossing the frigid river as trucks wait for the road to be rebuilt)
Apparently the bus that was supposed to pick us up had got stuck exactly where we had the previous day and wouldn't reach for a while. The day then passed in random tom-foolery as we passed time by playing rather animated games of dumb charades. One case in which Dhar had to portray "Pocahontas" was particularly interesting. Since Gussu didn't know the movie, the name was morphed into "Poke-Haunt-Ass". I leave it to your imagination as to how this was enacted!
We began to worry only around evening, when the bus hadn't turned up till 6. We didn't have a hotel for the night, and the bus driver's phone was out of reach. A few frantic calls later, we heaved a sigh of relief, getting to know that the bus was at last report a few hours away. Manu and I decided to make an attempt on another monastery. We climbed for about an hour and were still far away from the Shasur Monastery when we saw a small black spot hurtling down the road, about a thousand feet below. For some reason, we immediately recognized this little black spot as Dhar and playfully started calling out to him. Dhar seemed rather perplexed. He couldn't spot us but he could hear his name and kept turning around. Soon enough though, he caught our eye and signaled from a distance for us to hurriedly get off the mountain. Following his cue, it was Manu's and my turn to abandon our second monastic attempt for the day and hurtle down the mountain. By the time we got down, a distraught Dhar was waiting impatiently for us. On arrival he informed us that the bus had actually managed to turn up before time, and while couldn't make it to Sarchu that night, we'd still make it to Darcha, about 40kilometers away. What followed was a scary two hour ride in pitch black conditions, right next to a raging river that would've washed us away, had a single stone slipped from that narrow road. The interesting bit was that we were four of only five Indians on a bus of about 20 people. Just goes to show the travel mentality of the quintessential Indian traveller eh?
So there we were, at 9 in the night in Darcha, which is practically the middle of nowhere by the river. The only place to stay are two adjacent dhabas with only beds and no toilets! A "room" with tarp walls and a tin roof with one double bed was ready for the four of us! One Maggi, a video, and a game of poker later, we were off...for the next day we would leave at four for Leh. Will we reach Leh the next day finally?? No, as it turns out!
(Our "room" in Darcha)
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