Spiti Valley - Part II

During my first visit to Spiti, I had walked along theconvinced that we are ready for an assault on Bhaba
snow-covered track between Dhankar and Kibber.Pass. Tashi made breakfast a little earlier and before
There are no hotels in all of Spiti and accommodationthe morning sun had time to get too hot, we started
can be found only at the government rest houses. Iour long march. In three hours we could have made
had stayed at the homes of villagers whose warmthhalf a day's march but Bhaba was an altogether
and hospitality never ceases to amaze me. Theytougher and slower proposition.
were mostly farmers who worked hard during theThe path was fairly flat for the first hour, turning into
brief summer months to raise their crops of barleya climb about halfway up. And the further we
and peas. Sitting around the family hearth - aclimbed, the tighter the angle to the summit became.
wood-burning stove in the middle of the kitchen -Almost four hours to the minute after we had set
and sharing a simple meal with them, one felt theout, we hauled ourselves over the last boulders, high
outside world to be unimaginably remote.above the glacier, and found ourselves faced with
Returning to Spiti now, after many years, I saw aone of the most supreme views on earth.
greatly expanded Kaza. I was dreading and preparingA cold wind was blowing on the pass and I was
my self for the worst but was relieved to find,feeling heady owing to the altitude. The journey
despite the inevitable signs of progress, that the olddown the southern rim of Bhaba with deep snow
town still retained some of its medieval charm, withwas even more exhausting and precarious. I kept
its traditional mud houses and narrow alleys. Thelosing my footing on the loose surface, and when we
bazaar was packed with shops and stalls and therefinally reached the bottom, the waterfall down the
were even the ubiquitous STD telephone booths,mountain refreshed our sights. There was green
which made long distance calls readily possible.everywhere, the monsoon clouds brought wisps of
The barking of Rab woke me. I peeped out of myrain, the spray on our bodies glittering in the late
tent but could see nothing in the morning light. Theafternoon sun. We followed a long, winding path
sun was still behind the ridge in the direction Rab wasthrough forests and across meadows of wild flowers,
facing. Giles, the schoolteacher, looked through hiscamping next to a stream. Later that day, while our
binoculars. 'It's an ibex... one ... two ... three...oh, there istea and crispy pakoras were being prepared, we sat
a herd of them,' he shouted.outside in the sun watching lammergeyers and
The view was magnificent. Tall crags leapt from theimperial eagles circle overhead.
slope where the ibex grazed; wisps of cloud swirledSuddenly Stephanie noticed that Rab was nowhere
high among the cliffs, weaving a soft mantle againstto be seen. The porters said that he may have died
the now blue sky. The animals' fawny-brown coatsof cold. But I think Rab was too intelligent to go on.
were camouflaged against brown rocks. Their shortHe may simply have turned back and headed for the
dark tails wagged. Enormous horns rose above theirlast camp. There, having rested, he would have
tiny heads, ending in sharp points. We thanked Rabfound his way back to the last village or other human
for letting us see those magnificent creatures andhabitation. This was the way in which Himalayan dogs
offered him a special helping of food.exist: they hunt for themselves, find their own
We were now in the remote Pin Valley of Spiti.water, travel from village to village and master to
White-washed villages appeared periodically,master, earning their keep by playing watchdog.
surrounded by patchworks of fragile fields. Harsh,Nevertheless, the sense of achievement was
rocky Mountains rose above them in singular walls.overwhelming and that night we built a bonfire and
There were no trees or bushes, just starksat outside singing songs. I raised my mug of tea in a
ruggedness that formed its own beauty.toast to my absent friends - much too weary to
After eight days' trekking from Kibber we weremove and too smitten ever to leave.