The climb begins

When we wake the hills are visible. There are a few towering before us on the other side of the river. There are clouds around their heads. We are in our ponchos and ready to begin our hike up. The road begins dirty, slushy from rain and mule feces. We cross rivers, step over waterfalls, devour our chocolates, watch a furious river launching an attack on the stones in its path and pilgrims aplenty in a variety of modes of conveyance. We sit by the river bank, on ledges overlooking panoramic views all along the way.

Before the walk takes a steeper turn, we find a restaurant by the river spanning across each side of it and have the most delicious meal. The Kadai paneer and Aloo parathas(again) are unforgettable. The water is perceptibly colder. As we cross a narrow stone bridge across a turbulent river, a train of mules arrives and I am pushed to the edge. Mules carrying loads take so much space, there are hardly a few inches for me to stand on. In the end I push a mule with all my might to save myself from falling over. The climb that follows would have been better if there hadn't been so many of these animals. I concede that all that food and water we have at the little shops is carried by them, but the chaos they cause, the amount of dirt they leave behind is irritating. Time and again, we are shoved towards corners where we have to wait until the sound of rattling hooves and jangling bells cease.

Not everyone walks. Apart from these mules, many are carried on a throne-like chair, in absolute comfort on the shoulders of four men. Younger children and the older people are carried on chairs on someone's back. Some even inside baskets. There are some older people climbing patiently. There is generosity on this path. People coming down hand over dry fruits, glucose and sweets to the ones climbing.

S and I climb together in the middle of the pack. S takes it easy, resting whenever she wants to. We are still far ahead of most and in the end find an open valley to rest in, to watch the day draw to a close. The wind gets chilly.

When we reach Ghangria, our destination for the night, there is a tunnel of mule shit we have to pass through until we are out in the open. A few wagging tails hit us. When some of us squirm, a foreigner shouts from the side "Get used to it. You'll get a lot more in the next few days."