Northern hill stations, Shimla, Manali and Vashisht

4/21 - 4/29

CC trains in India, wow. Five seats in a row, yes, but tea, water, food and newspapers all served with a smile and included in the ticket price. Way more 'civilised' than the air-conditioned sleeper trains we'd been on, though for my money I prefer to have the option of going horizontal. Arriving at Kalka at noon we transferred to the 'toy train', another single-gauge tiny train that seemed somewhat overloaded when nearly everyone from the spacious CC train piled on.

Above: Looks just like the old British Rail trains to me.

Below: Out of focus, but you can see the passenger list printed out and tacked on to each carriage.

We met this Persian guy who didn't like to be called Iranian. He told us of his childhood years with his family living under a cloud of suspicion as political agitators. When word came that they could expect a midnight raid on their house at any time he was smuggled out of the country with a forged passport. After living as a political refugee in several countries he eventually found asylum and citizenship in Britain and was very proud of that country, saying it was the best country in the world to raise his kids in.

The Punjabi kids in this out-of-contrast shot roped us into playing Indian bingo for petty cash. We lost, naturally.

Shimla is the town for rich Delhi people to escape the heat, far enough from the capitol to feel like an escape, but not far enough to put it out of reach for a weekend. We planned to stay one night and move on to somewhere a little less developed, but hotels near the transport hubs were full or way overpriced. A long slog up the ridge through back-alley stairs avoided the touts, but we got targeted once again when we emerged onto the scenic ridge-top tourist streets. We got an excellent deal out of it though, and decided to rest for a couple of days.

The 'semi-deluxe' bus to Manali was surprisingly comfortable, but the roads were so awful it didn't help much.

Now that's one way to make your ride more comfortable... or are they to prevent the seat overheating? I may never know.

Love these trucks, plying the mountain routes.

It was already dark by the time we got to Manali, but we got an auto-rickshaw to Vashisht and found a nice, if smelly, room and decided to make this our last stop in India.

Manali, and more specifically Vashisht, are well-known traveller favourites. Clean air, mountain views, lots of hashish, pizzas, shakshuka and hummus. The main draw for us was the promise of a hot spring bath in an ancient Hindu temple, though we also partook of plenty of pizza, shakshuka, hummus and second-hand hashish smoke.

Now, I know that bathing practices differ greatly from culture to culture and place to place. Failing to strip naked and scrub up would cause great offence in Japan, while doing the same in British pool would probably get you arrested. I was careful to ask the hotel staff what was normal practice in Vashisht, and whether or not people got naked to bathe. He said 'of course', I was surprised and repeated the question and he said 'yes'.

The temple itself was very atmospheric and the open-air bath with it's four high walls actually felt quite familiar to me. Japanese-style I stripped, hung my clothes on a nail, washed myself sitting down at a crotch-height pipe then soaked in the bath. The water was filthy, and only lukewarm. The former I can forgive, but the latter was a disappointment. As I sat there I realised that all the guys entering after me were wearing their pants... One guy strayed a little close, his friends laughed and said something and he quickly moved to the other side of the pool. I was the source of much amusement.

 Fully-clothed tourists and photo-taking, two things you'd never find in a Japanese bath.

The main use of the spring seemed to be for clothes washing.

After the temple closes the public pool is very popular. No nudity here, either.

That night there was a raucous festival that passed us by on the street below our restaurant. Trumpets either announced or challenged the palanquin with its multi-faced silver goddess and a group of drummers. It was really loud, and completely atonal, with everyone bashing or blowing whatever they carried in a non-musical way. Very Indian. 

At that same restaurant one of the staff told us a sad story of his marriage to a Japanese woman. He was mad keen on kids, as all Indians seem to be, so when time and tests revealed she was incapable of giving birth she split up with him and moved back to Japan. He still wants her but she's depressed and convinced she's no good for him, telling him to divorce her and remarry. Crazy Japanese.

Hiking around the back of Vashisht, looking for a hospital, we found more great views and a roof full of sleeping bags being aired out.

On a whim, we booked a spot of paragliding at this place. Hozumi loved the dog.

The next day we went by and the shop was locked up, with no-one around to pick us up. A helpful local made a couple of phone calls and a jeep took us to the extreme sports valley. We were handed off a few times to different guys, then told we'd have to make our own way up the mountain by lift, horse or on foot! The horse ride was bumpy and fun. Very steep, with surges of speed whenever the handler got aggressive. The last stretch was covered in snow and too dangerous for the horses so we slipped and slided to the launch site. I noticed a horse skull on the way.

Ready to glide!

...and they're off!

Now the astute reader will be wondering how I managed to photograph both Hozumi's take-off and landing. Hozumi soared high and far and loved every minute, describing it as one of the best experiences of her life. My guy barely cleared the trees and we plummeted straight down in under three minutes. Disappointing!

That evening we went to a Japanese restaurant where we served seriously the worst rice I've ever tasted. It was inedible and the rest of the food was pretty bad too. Since the Japanese are famously picky about their rice I wanted to confront the Japanese woman and ask her what on earth was going on, but we just left our food, paid and slunk out in a very Japanese manner. More disappointment!

Re-reading this it all sounds really negative, which is weird because I really liked Vashisht. It was a great place, with wonderful views, some good homely Tibetan food, and a really laid-back atmosphere. I'd love to have seen more of Kashmir and the North of India but unfortunately we'd booked our flight to Egypt before we'd left Delhi. That left only a 15 hour overnight bus back to Delhi and one more night left in India to look forward to.