Trekking Escapades: Ladakh: Dha, Lamayuru to Alchi, Likir to Temisgram

My excursions were wonderful. First I spent a couple of days in Dha, on the narrow Indus river gorge, only 20 km from Pakistan. The gorge looks like the end of the world with steep desert mountainsides, but tucked away on small terraces are gardens of Eden where communities have been sustaining themselves for hundreds of years. The people there are Aryan and of a different heritage than the Ladakhi's who settled from nomadic herders. The terraces are full of apricots, grape arbors, tomato fields and more, but step out side the lush terraces fed by irrigation channels, and it's a harsh desert. In 1999 Pakistani troups attacked and the wife of the owner of the guesthouse where I stayed was killed by a bomb. There was a memorial stupa outside the guesthouse for her. Quite sad that these people who have peacefully farmed and sustained themselves for ages are caught in the politics of borders.

I heard that the Chinese have staged lots of troops on the border of Ladakh near Pangong Lake in recent days. I'm not sure what their point would be in claiming this harsh land and robbing the Ladakhis of their traditions. I hope that the rumors and fears are unfounded.

After Dha, I went to Lamayuru. I spend two days there. I ended up providing a senior meal to the local senior center. I was searching out some "yos" for my trekking. Yos is popped barley. The village was in full harvest of it's hay crop and I asked a passing donkey man, his donkey loaded with hay, where I might find some yos. I held the remains of my bag of yos that I procured in Leh as an example, since I didn't trust my pronunciation. He pointed to a building a few meters away where a few elderly woman sat crosslegged passing the time where their handheld prayer wheels. I tried to pantomime to them that I wished to buy some yos, and they held out their hands to partake of some of my dwindling supply of yos. So I gave them each a handful. Then I shared some yos with a slightly younger woman, 69yo, who was resting on her way up the hill with a load of hay on her back and offered to carry her load for her. It was not such a big load, maybe 30 pounds, and I followed her up the hill to her adobe rooftop, where we spread out the hay to cure a bit more. I returned towards my guesthouse by the large Lamayuru Gompa, where the manager was coming down the hill. He said that I had just helped his mother! He was grateful. He was on his way to portage some more hay, so I deposited my daypack in my room and helped him. Luckily it was only one more load a piece. AT 11,500 ft, and having spent two days in Dha at 9,500 ft, one big load (45 lbs) was enough for me... the field was maybe half a mile below the house, and probably 2-300 ft lower in elevation. So that was a good accimitization workout for me. Their home had been in the family 800 years!

I trekked from Lamayuru to Alchi, via Wanla, Urshi, Tar, and Mangyu. I met a Frenchman in Wanla who was going that way, so we trekked together. I learned the hard way why I was advised in Lamayuru by the locals, not to trek to Alchi, but rather to Chilling. The Tar La (pass) at 5250m entailed four hours of hard ascent and four hours of hard descent. That was my birtday. I was exhausted by the time we got to Tar, and didn't much appreciate my birthday dinner of poorly cooked rice and vegetables in a tiny kitchen full of kerosene fumes from the burner... no guesthouse, this was a "homestay" where you just stay with a family in a village. And "homestays" were where I stayed for the nine days I trekked from Lamayuru to Alchi, then Likir to Temisgram. Perhaps next year, I'll stage my birtday for a beach!

Many of the villages along the way were in full harvest mode, gathering their barley crop. In Mangyu, the night we were there, they finished and the men were drunkenly singing in celebration, well into the night... well until about 8:30pm, that is! I helped a family there, and they invited me to stay, but the Frenchman, "G", and I had already booked a paying homestay. In Urshi, we stayed in a home inhabitied by only mother and daughter, the father off working in Leh, and the other siblings off to schools in other towns. We helped the woman thresh by carring the sheaves of barley into a clay circle, while 7 donkeys lashed together were chased around in a circle for 3 hours.

In Alchi, a rather touristy place with a remarkable Buddhist Temple, G and I parted as he headed off to Leh, and I to Likir. I took a bus part of the way to Likir, having to walk out to the highway from Alchi to get it, then having to walk from the highway into Likir. The dropoff point was like the middle of nowhere... a high mountain dusty desert... but a 30 min walk brought me to the oasis of Likir, a stretched out village with a snow capped mountain backdrop. I wandered into the alleyways of the village and found a group of women carrying loads of barley on their back. So I offered to carry the eldest ones load, assuming she was the mother. One of the woman had a guesthouse where I stashed my pack, and helped them carry a couple more loads till the field was finished. Then we ate lunch and, by hand, plucked a third of an acre of barley by the guesthouse. No sickle was used, but just pulling the plants up. My hands were rough and raw by the end, but I discovered my foot cream for dry cracked feet, worked wonders on my hands.

The next day I set off for the gompa above town for a quick visit before trekking to Yangtang. Here I regretted my cockiness in thinking I had passed the stress test of climbing the Tar La for my 45th birthday. First the gompa turned out to be more like a 60-90 min walk up from the village... it appears closer. I tried to take a shortcut and failed... the bridge leading into a maze of stone walled terraces. Here I discovered my fatique as my mind couldn't cope with the challenge. I soon found the right path up the steep hillside, but found my energy failing. I continued up thinking I could maybe lay down and rest at the gompa. I finally encountered a monk, who's advice was "you go upside". So I ended up at the top of the gompa admiring the huge gold buddha statue. No one came by. So I sat for well over an hour until a British college student showed up. I asked if I might walk down to the village with him. I discovered the rest had done me well, and I felt good enough to walk back. I spent the afternoon in bed resting and realized that I needed more food than I'd been eating, and also that I'd been working hard trekking, hauling barley, etc for 4-8 hours per day at high altitudes the past week. The women were working in the field again, but I declined the urge to help.

The work on a sustainable farm such as this is somewhat ongoing, but not particularly hard. It's at a human pace, not a machine pace. It's nothing like unloading and stacking in the barn a load of baled hay at the pace of the chattering conveyor. The woman chatted as they worked, laughed. Tea was taken at regular intervals.

Another Frenchman, Benoit, showed up at the guest house that afternoon. The next day I set out with him trekking to Yangtang where we enjoyed a delightful homestay with Tashi, Durkha, and their three children. The children walk two hours to and from school each day... the same route we would take to Hemis S. the next day. The youngest boy happily packed his own lunch of tsampa (roasted barley flour) eaten plain, or in tea. Several cups in a bag, put a grin on his face. No gym needed, the night before while dinner was prepared he worked a while on the butter churn, while his siblings and parents rested, made dinner, and/or studied in the large kitchen. His mom took over on the churn for a while after making dinner. "Butter, no butter", she said in dismay. It apparently takes three hours of churning to make butter. All I could think of is the commercial for imitation butter... "I can't believe it's not butter!". The churn was big, holding several gallons I would think, and a strap around a pillar, made the churning action like rowing. It occurred to me how we have consumerized even our excersize in the "developed world". Tashi's family was smiling and full of good heart and spending quality time together.

The next day, Benoit and I trekked to Temisgram. It was not a good day... at first we were in good spirits, making great time, and feeling pretty energetic. But it turned out we misread the map... there were two passes to cross not one. After resting on the first pass for a good long time, we heading down the wrong vally. That cost us some time and elevation. Luckily Benoit realized our mistake. We then planned to stay in Ang, but after 30 minutes roaming the village found no homestay and so headed to Temisgram which stretches out for several miles. In contrast to Yangtang and Hemis S, where every house was a homestay and villagers sought us out, Temisgram seemed to have few places to stay, many closed. Several even turned us away. Our five hour day turned into seven and a half before a woman that spoke no English made it clear that she had a homestay and wanted us.

The next day it was back to Leh... yesterday. I'm both glad and sad to be in the "big city." It's nice to have my own room, and restaurants and stores were I can find food to eat as much as I want and need. But I miss the carless trekking life and quiet villages of traditional life.

I expect to leave in a day or two, but yesterday learned the Leh Manali road was closed due to weather... snow or landslides or both... maybe it will open in a few days. I overheard some tourists planning to leave in a jeep tonight so I am guessing maybe it is open already. The other land route out is via Sringar (Kashmir)... a bit longer. And apparently the buses along that route have been on strike for ten days. Leh is much emptier of tourist than two weeks ago, and many restaurant and shops are closed.

I think it's probably good for me to rest a couple days before taking the 20 plus hour journey out of Ladakh. Not sure if I will stop in Spiti on the way, or go directly to Manali and the hot springs of Vashisht. Or if the road that way proves impassable, through Sringar. My "ultimate" destination for the next leg is Dharamsala.