Over the Hills and Far Away...

Hello People,
I don't have time at the moment to write under all of these (60, count them) pictures, so I will just summarise here my journey from Delhi back to Kaza. My first day in India began with misadventure. Here I am on minute, ready to feel like a veteran India traveler feerlessly navigating the Delhi railway station, and here I am the next, theatrically running next to a moving train and jumping on board at the last minute without a ticket. Then I learn I've floundered on board the wrong train-- I do not feel so veteran after all; India has duely humbled me once again. However, in India when in doubt, go with the flow. So I got on the wrong train... this one not taking me north but actually south-- just happening to make a stop in Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. So it is that I visited the Taj Mahal by mistake.
The Taj Mahal, dear friends, did not disappoint me. I expected hoards of tourists and there were hoards of tourists. I expected Agra to be a shit-hole and it was a shit-hole. I guessed it would be hot there and it was hotter than hot. Oh, and I expected the Taj Mahal to be a grand, beautiful building, and it was beyond that; let me be clear: the Taj Mahal is the most beautiful building I have ever seen. Further adding to my unlikely fortune of finding myself at the Taj by mistake, I also happened to arrive there the day of a partial solar eclipse, and an Indian news crew interviewed me and a couple other American girls I happened to get along with. It's only the second solar eclipse I've ever seen, and at the Taj Mahal no less. Only in India.
After the Taj I got back on the train to Delhi, then in Delhi got on the RIGHT train (with a ticket, no less) north to Shimla. In shimla my motorcycle was waiting for me, covered in weeds, wet and a bit rusted from over a month in heavy monsoon. I dropped about 2000 rupees at the mechanic tuning it up, replacing parts, getting a new front tire, spare tubes, etc., getting it ready for the Big Mountains again. There aren't spare parts on the far side of the Himalayas. Shimla is a beautiful and atmospheric city. Built by the Brittish as summer turf, in its hay day it was a bit of England landed in India. Now it's been totally reclaimed by India and turned into a curious metaphore for post-colonialism.
I got on the road as quickly as I could; I wanted to get out of the monsoon rains and back to the big blue skies of Spiti. My route was the remote way: up through the only recently opened Kinnaur Valley along the Satluj River. Half massive hydro-electric projects, half quiet Hindu/Buddhist wood and slate villages, it's a diverse and beautiful drive. I made a detour up into the Baspa Valley, up through fields of pink flowers going up towards Tibet, and stayed in some very quiet villages, Chitkul and Rakcham. Then back out to Kalpa, high above the Satluj, gazing accross to some 6000 meter peeks seperating India and Tibet. Next to Nako, first village in the Spiti valley and boasting a very picturesqe lake-- waylaid here for two nights feeling very fine. Then to Tabo. Ah, Tabo.
Tabo is home to some of the oldest and finest Tibetan temples in the Spiti valley. Inside these temples one is gazed upon by hundreds of finely painted and preserved Buddhas, and it's hard not to feel some kind of Divine. I sat and meditated in peace there, allowing the moment to overwhelm me. But I only stayed a night, and, seeing Dankhar Monestary on the way, next day I drove back to Kaza. Oddly, I had feeligns of coming home when I got here. People happy to see me, me happy to see friends. I'm just another week here, then up up and away, Going to Kashmir with a Bron-y-aur Stomp, I will wander further...















On to Shimla...




Driving along the Satluj up Kinnaur Valley






And into the Baspa Valley to Sangla, Chitkul, and Rakcham.

















Over to Kalpa...





And back into Spiti-- Nako, Tabo, and Dankhar.