White rabbits to reneswar lake

And so, once again; the decision was re lake, the journey fairly straightforward...a bus to banjar anothere to mandi and then, finally a last journey of 25km to the lake...not so hard....until I arrived at the bus stand....having discovered that my body refused the 0600 alarm call and decided upon the 0830....which in true Indian style turned out to be at 1030, two hours to hang around the bus stand...at which point, as Dr Gonzo would have possibly said, things then took a turn for the weird...
I stood pondering the improbables: could I still make renrswar? Doubtful, mandi seemed best I could hope for, and it would be late; the odds being that there would be a wait in banjar...I began to learn, these trips wete like delving into my past; the journey itself become intriguing,no clear idea of where the night would be spent; a release from the boundaries of the plan. I pondered a trip to the river, the scent of parvati...when up to me came a local, banjar? I nodded...he pointed, bussaihe I thought he said id...a translator appeared, bus fare, he meant...a lift, saving two hours wait, for bus fare...I smiled and nodded, lifted my bag and put it into the car..we set off at a sensible and serene pace, another joined us, a few km later departed the car, we set off, turned up a valley, some more Hindu, I shrugged...the valley was another stunning creation, we passed a quarry of a kind and came to a house, a bag was thrown down, landed...sorry, a voice called out, I need to shit, won't be long...a little later he appeared, offered a hand and a smile, I'm raj, he said, this is my car...

He has huts on aramambol, sells charras from his village at ten times cost, six months in goa, six here...we moved forward up the hill...at a random, I thought, point we stopped...it was where the road intersected the path to his village, the closest point...his uncle and grandfather were coming, I should come...they appeared, a package came out, an enormous sword of village charras, soft, sticky, sweet smelling...I wondered where this was going, a lump was torn off, hands were shaken, we returned to the car...raj turned into a demon, joints wete made, uncle, the driver, was glazed, as was I absently noting how much worse the road was than I had thought when I passed on the bus, another joint from behind and then an odd crunch, it's first gear, still rising to the jalauri pass, crunch, there's a discussion, raj looks irked, he makes a joint despite one being in uncles hand...the crutches continue, random but mostly first, not what you need on a single lane, occasionally less, track around a 3300m pass...we reached the watershed, descent...out of petrol, freewheeling through occasional crunches, the blip, a thali, one of the best I've ever tasted, another hindi discussion, raj sulks...his uncle tells him the clutch needs fixed, they now go to mandi...offer to take me to reneswar for 1500, I smile, a thousand? Raj thinks, passes a joint, smiles, why the fugh not, this is good fun...and he knows a hotel, to the door he laughs, uncle will carry your bag...at 1900 we arrive, I get a room, they depart red eyed to await the morning and get the clutch fixed...

And then, at double the price, 600, of any room this part of the trip but an amazing shower and my own bathroom...off for food...where I meet David from France, two days ahead of me on the retreat from spiti, same reasons...we talk about wine, I offer up the genius of Sean thackrey...one of those immediate travelling friendships; stories, laughter and comparative wine poncey by the lake...and, unexpectedly late, another "curfew" missed...But bed found...a quite remarkable day, a delightful journey with the scent of burned maps upon the breeze....