Into Thick Air

Back to stinky, hot, humid Delhi. We arrived in Delhi early on the morning of the 8th. At the airport, we said our goodbyes to Drew and Hanna, who were off to find a hotel room in the downtown area before flying out the next day to continue their traveling adventures in Indonesia. The remaining four of us grabbed a cab to Majnu Ka Tilla, the Tibetean colony the team had stayed at when we first arrived in Delhi.

We were lucky to get the last room at the Wongdhen Guest House, A/C included, so took it for two nights. The next morning we had a leisurely day of sight seeing before deciding on the next move. Hilde, the Belgian girl, decided that she had had enough for one trip and rebooked her flight back to Europe. Meanwhile, Doug, the other Ross, and myself planned out an intricate train trip that would take us from Delhi, north to Amritsar, then over to Kalka and up to Shimla. Prior to the disaster, we had booked train tickets from Shimla to Delhi to complete our intended Leh-Manali trip. This short 5 day adventure would allow us to hook up with those original bookings while also getting to visit some amazing places. We all thought it was better to get out and do something with our remaining days rather than sit around Delhi.

The air conditioned train ride from Delhi to Amritsar was great. It took us through the massive farming areas of the Punjab, India's bread-basket. Upon arriving in Amritsar, we were immediately assaulted by the chaotic frenzy of this relatively small, old city. It took us a rickshaw ride into the main city and then another back out to the train station area before we found accommodations, but fine accommodations they were at the Tourist Guest House. Big, high ceilings and marble floors, all for 600rp per night (about $15). We still had time left in the day to head out to the main attraction in Amritsar, the Golden Temple.

The Golden Temple is the most revered site for the Sikh faith. It was build in the late 1500's and, as you can see from this picture that I borrowed, the temple is surrounded by a large pool. The name Amritsar means The Pool of the Nectar of Immortality, and so the name of the city that grew up around the temple.

As with other Sikh temples, the Golden Temple is intended to be a place where all men and women are welcome, regardless of religious leaning. It is an amazing place to come and walk around, or just sit and relax. The temple also puts on a tasty free lunch/dinner, which of course we took advantage of both days we were in Amritsar.

The Golden Temple is also know for a more recent, darker event in the history of India. In 1984, Sikh separatists who were wanted for arrest by the Indian government took refuge in the Golden Temple. The PM at the time, Indira Ghandi, ordered the army into the temple to arrest them and resulting in many casualties, including children who were in the temple at the time. As a consequence, two of her Sikh bodyguards assassinated Ghandi not long after.

When we were in Amristar, we also made a visit to Jallianwala Bagh. In 1919 Amritsar was one of the many towns to see protests by followers of Satyagraha, the non-violent movement led by Mahatma Ghandi. On April 13, soldiers opened fire on a large crowd of unarmed men, women, and children who had gathered at Jallianwala Bagh, killing hundreds and wounding many more, and is one of the pivotal events in the path up to an independent India. The site today is an interesting and well put together memorial park. The original walls still stand in some places and you can see the bullet holes in various places.

After a day and half in Amritsar, we back tracked on the train to Ambala and then up to Kalka. Kalka is the start of the small gauge, 'toy train' that runs deep into the foothills of the Himalayas to the city of Shimla. During the days of British rule, the Brits in government found Delhi too hot in the summer so they moved the capitol to Shimla, high in the mountains, because they could. In order to access this misty, cool retreat, they were required to build a 100km long rail line. Since the hills are so steep, the route had lots of twists and turns. Therefore, the gauge of rail is narrower so that the train can make the tight turns and the locomotive and cars are tiny, compared to the regular train system. The ride up is long, about 5.5 hours, but very scenic as it makes its way through various forests, from thick rain forest to scotch pine.

Shimla itself is a quaint tourist destination from more well off Indians. The main drag is a little slice of England, with many Tudor style buildings and even a cathedral. It looks right out of place for India. There are lots of hotels and lots to buy, but overall, it is a nice, clean destination and certainly was a lot cooler than Delhi. We took a day there and visited Jakoo Temple. Build on the highest spot of land in the very hilly town, this temple is dedicated to the Hindu god Hamuman, the monkey god. And there are lots of monkeys. Be prepared to hold onto your camera tightly or to punch a monkey in the mouth (or carry a stick). After a couple of otherwise relaxing days, it was back down the tracks to catch an overnight mail train back to stinky, hot, humid Delhi.

Incredible Beauty, Incredible Tragedy: Conclusion

At the end of a hectic two days of travel, we found ourselves in Sri Nagar. When we booked our flights to India, we had elected to not buy a flight back from Leh to Delhi, preferring to make our way back down by road and adventure. From Leh, there are only two options by road to reach the south. You can either travel the rough and bumpy road west from Leh to Sri Nagar, or you can take the even worse road east to Manali. We ruled out the Sri Nagar option early in the trip due to the on-going violent political situation in this region.

Sri Nagar is the capital city of Jammu-Kashmir and is the largest city in India that does not have a Hindu majority. The Kashmir is predominantly Muslim with a strong separatist movement. Until 1947, Kashmir was one of the princely states of India, ruled by Hari Singh. Pakistan invaded the region in 1947 and took most of Sri Nagar. To prevent Kashmir becoming part of Pakistan, Hari Singh signed a pact with the Indian government, providing for the city and a large part of the rest of the kingdom become Indian Kashmir. The section of his kingdom controlled be Pakistan became Pakistan Kashmir. Ever since, the actual border has been disputed, hence the term 'Line of Control', and strong separatist politics. Some separatists favour becoming part of Pakistan while others are proponents of a separate Kashmir nation.

From time to time, problems erupt in the Kashmir, only to be quickly quelled by the Indian Army Forces. This is one of those times. Since we arrived in Leh, there have been periodic uprisings in Sri Nagar, accompanied by shootings of protestors. Many people were killed during this recent uprising and apparently four more protestors were killed yesterday and the curfew, which had been just recently lifted, was reinstated. The curfew prevents people from moving about during the day, rather than at night. This has a massive impact on the citizens and businesses of this very historic and picturesque town, which under better circumstances, would be a tourist Mecca.

So, by virtue of our luck and good judgment summing to form our fate, we had ended up in Srinagar after all. As soon as we entered the Kashmir Valley, in fact, we noticed a marked increase in military presence. By the time we reached the city itself, you could count the troops and police well into the hundreds if not more. Thankfully, we had been lucky enough to find a driver from Sri Nagar, and this proved to be invaluable. He was able to steer us to a nice, safe hotel, which we managed to negotiate a great rate for, due to the poor tourist season. We were required to have an escort if we left the hotel and the driver, Riyah, was actually willing to come back later that night and take us to a restaurant for a meal. This was beyond the call of duty as he had just driven us for two straight days. We had a great meal in a Jain restaurant and called it a night.

After a good sleep, we were up early so that Riyah could drive us to the airport. Going to the airport in Sri Nagar is no easy task. First, we needed to have tickets for the flight before we would be granted entry. We did not have tickets, nor could we get them as the curfew meant all the businesses were closed. Second, you have to run a gauntlet of security measures, starting with a frisking and bag scan more than a kilometer from the actual terminal.

Riyah was pretty confident we would be able to talk our way through, with the story that we would be picking up our tickets at the ticket counter outside the terminal. That got us by the first check but we were subject to more stringent inquiry a few meters down the road. Riyah told the officer at the checkpoint that we were picking up tickets and he was immediately asked to get out of the cab. Fortunately, Drew and Hanna, the two Scots, had their flight itinerary showing that they had purchased tickets from Leh to Delhi but were obviously unable to access that flight because the Leh airport was closed due to flooding. This evidence that we were somewhat stranded and intended change our flights at the airport was enough and we were ushered through. At the terminal, we managed to get some of the last seats on the first flight to Delhi and, 4 more security check later, we were in the air and on our way to Delhi.

Later, we talked about the long streak of luck that we had, and good decisions we made, which got us out of the disaster area relatively quickly and unscathed. We had, firstly, been very lucky to have the opportunity to visit a region of incredible beauty, see things and stay in homes with Ladakhi families, and that will be an experience I never forget. We were also very lucky to escape much of the incredible tragedy that hit the people of Ladakh. Of the thousands of tourists in the region, I would hazard to guess that we were the only ones, or at best six of the very very few who were able to get out on their own. We were very much more fortunate than those trapped in the area or worse. Most people were trapped in Leh or on the roads or trails, and rescue took days.

The impact on the area can't be understated. This was an unprecedented natural disaster. The rain storms were part of a larger system that effected large areas of Pakistan, India, and China with great cost of lives. In the Ladakh area, the last figure I heard was over 150 dead and 400 missing, most in Leh and nearby villages. Over 15000 were injured. Choglamsar, a village next to Leh, was wiped off the map. The storm also claimed many of the road workers; poor Indians who come to the area seasonally to do back breaking work for the relatively high wages (300 rupees per day = around $8 CDN). In Leh, large sections of the old town in which we worked were destroyed, with great loss of life. Sonam Norboo Memorial Hospital, in which we worked for the last month, was destroyed. Only our Paediatric Unit, a separate building at the rear of the property, was spared and was quickly converted into the Emergency room. We have been able to find out that most of the people we worked with are unhurt but are still trying to find out about others. The bus station from which we had started our trek was destroyed and over 50 people were killed. The airport was closed as it was also flooded but has subsequently reopened. Apparently, it was chaos as tourists scrambled to get out on the first flights. Some countries, such as Israel, chartered a flight to get their citizens out.

As harrowing as our tale might seem, we were not there at the centre of events. A couple of days ago, I got an email from David Shackleton, describing the situation. David is a former UBC prof who has lived in Leh on and off for the past few years. This is what he had to say:

"Hello – Just a short report to let you know what’s been happening here in Ladakh. The first sign of problems was a thunderstorm of tropical proportions that began around 2.00 am in the Himalayan mountains south of the Indus. It travelled from east of Leh westwards to beyond Leh. The lightening lit up the sky, silhouetting the mountain peaks with flashes at almost 30 sec intervals.

The next day, we had the first reports of 7 houses washed away in Basgo to the west of Leh, with the loss of 10 people’s lives and the destruction of two road bridges – one at Basgo and the other at Basgo. Also, the roads from Manali and Srinigar were closed. Little rain fell in Leh itself and certainly there was no serious destruction. Our guest house – made entirely of adobe brick and mud - had a few leaks in the roof.

Later this same day the river running near Chanspar rose dramatically and we could hear its roar over 200 meters away. The bridge between Chanspar and Sankar was almost washed away but no other destruction in that area as far as we know. As the evening progressed black storm clouds gathered on both sides of the Indus valley and heavy rain could be seen falling to the north of Leh.

That night around midnight, the thunderstorm from the north hit Leh – bringing high winds, torrential rains and lightening that lasted over an hour. It was during this downpour that the major damage to Leh and Chanspar occurred. Flash floods – one starting in the hills above and to the east of the Palace, and the other above Sabu and Choglamsar, tore down the gulleys bringing boulders and mud in unbelievable quantities.

In Leh, the flood’s route took it past the polo grounds and the old bus station, through the Leh Gate and into the new Bust Station and on as far as the Sonam Norboo Memorial Hospital (SNMH) and the petrol station. On its way, it took out buildings and deposited mud and rocks up to 60 cm deep. Vehicles were either smashed and twisted wrecks buried inside the stronger buildings or were washed down until the flood ran out of steam and the vehicles lay in heaps half buried in mud. The new hospital had 50 cm of mud covering the entire ground floor. Buildings and shops around the entrance to the new Bus Stand were either completely destroyed or had collapsed beyond repair. The large prayer wheel near the station’s entrance was found in the bus station, while the BSNL telephone company’s compound at the bottom of the stand was largely destroyed. It is still uncertain how many people died in this area – many who probably disappeared were the itinerant cobblers from southern India who worked and lived near the bus station.

Choglamsar suffered even greater human losses. Many houses lined the gulley down which the flood came. These were washed away along with their inhabitants. No one yet knows for certain how many people died there, but current information is that a total of around 130 bodies were brought to the SNMH with at least 500 people unaccounted for.

The next day we learned that almost all the roads between Hanu (near the border with Pakistan) and Khaltse were washed away, and though some houses were lost at Hanu Tang no deaths have been reported. A telephone call came in from Cynthia on Monday to say she was safe but stranded in Hanu Gongma. On either side of this high village were landslides and she would probably be there for at least 3-4 days.

Not surprisingly many people are still very scared and worried about the chances of more flooding. Each evening, large numbers of Ladakhis and Tibetans have moved to the high ground around Shanti Stupa and near the Gompa above Leh Place as well as along the road above Lamdon School. Volunteers of all stripes along with the army have been working wherever they can be of help. They are organised by various organisations such as the LBA and the main mosque.

Electricity just returned on Monday evening but communications are very difficult. The BSNL system is strill down, as is Aircel within India (strangely international calls are possible with Aircel), and Airtel service is intermittent. Most locals use the BSNL system with the result that it is impossible to contact friends and relatives via phone (cell or land line). All the people associated with Health Inc. are fine and we have been able to meet with most of them.

With the major roads blocked no food supplies are coming in to Leh, but some expect the Srinigar road to open in a few days (unlikely), bringing fresh vegetables and basic other supplies. The Manali road will apparently take much longer to repair. Most shops are re-opening including the local ladies selling vegetables along the main Bazaar. The fruit and veg market is of course running out of supplies and what is left is not in the best of condition.

Flights (commercial and military) are operating and the airlines are putting on extra flights Many westerners are happy to get out and the tourist shopkeepers are all assuming the this year’s tourist season is effectively over. For those of us remaining, there is a strange sense of helplessness even though we volunteer. At the same time, for many visitors there is little change – the restaurants are open and full and there is still shopping to do. Overall there is an air of unreality.

What has happened has, in all likelihood, never occurred before in written history in Ladakh. It is most likely that it was part of the storm front that hit NW Pakistan a couple of weeks earlier. Needless to say the infrastructure and emergency services simply don’t exist to cope with a disaster of this magnitude. It is impossible to say how long it will take to bring physical and service conditions back to “normal” but my guess is that it will take many months if not longer for recovery.

Update - today we had more rain but more heavy showers than anything else. In fact over the Ladakh Range on high ground there was a thin skim of fresh snow. With luck we might see some of the perseus shower tonight."

That is the story of this part of our journey. As we try to still make sense of all that has happened, spend some time and read more about the situation. We still have one week left in India, and I'll tell you about how we spent that time in the next entry.

-Ross

Incredible Beauty, Incredible Tragedy: Part 4

After we decided not to cross the bridge in Nimbo, we needed to come up with alternate plan to get out. We retreated as a group back to the hotel. At the bridge, we picked up Drew and Hanna, the two young Scots we had seen kicking stones off the road on the way down.

When things go sideways, all that you need are luck and good judgment. It was good judgment not to cross the bridge as it collapsed into the river a short time later. It was good luck that we emerged just west of the bridge, the last of six bridges which fell between where we were and Leh. If we were on the other side of any bridges, we would have been done for, waiting days for the army to rescue us. As it was, many less fortunate travelers found themselves in that situation.

Considering the situation, and all available options, we quickly realized that return to Leh would be impossible and that our only viable choice was to try to get to Sri Nagar, 400 km away and the next closest airport. From there, we could get to Delhi. In short, everything was turned on its head. We were going to have to change everything, go far, far out of our way to get back to safety, and we were going to have to leave most of our possessions in Leh. Still, there was little other choice. We asked the taxi driver if he would be willing to go the Sri Nagar, but he was not. Our best bet was to go west to the next closest town, Khalse.

Khalse is a bit of a ground-hog day for me. I didn't like it when I went through the first time, and got food poisoning. I didn't like it the second time, when we went on a long, kidney-jarring ride in a taxi as part of an outreach earlier in the project. And now I was heading back. Potentially for a multi-day stay as it turned out that the highway into Khalse from the other direction was also closed, apparently due to landslides. Nothing was moving in and out.

However, we had no other option. Once we got to Khalse, we made contact with the school headmaster, whom Phillip knows, and arranged to stay in the dorms, should we need accommodation. Then, we made the short walk into town, where in another moment of great luck, we ran into an Aussie traveler who had contracted a taxi from Sri Nagar the day before and now would be heading back. Through this guy, we were able to locate probably the only other Sri Nagar driver and he agreed to take us there. Once the road opened again.

There was little information coming in at that time, but the rumour was that the road would likely open in a few hours. We made one break for it in the taxi but were turned back at the police checkpoint. Back to the dorms to wait for who knows how long. As it turned out, it was only a couple more hours when Riyad, our taxi driver, appeared at the door and announced that the road was open. We quickly packed everything up, loaded the car, and set off on, hands-down, the most terrifying two-day journey that I have or will ever take.

Sure, the road was open. But, I had described this same road, from Khalse to Kargil, in an earlier post, and it was not good then. The dramatic high mountain road, over Lamyruru, was scary at that time. Now, covered with water and a thick layer or mud in several areas, it was ten times worse. Meeting traffic coming the other direction on the single lane, slick, steep road was heart-stopping. The most ridiculous sight was the westerner who we passed riding a Royal Enright motorcycle down the hill, his legs splayed out to the side to try and keep control and save him from the plunge off the side. Many tourists come to India with the idea of hiring an old style Royal Enright motorcycle and living the dream. Some clearly do not know when to pull the plug on the dream and retreat to safety.

As we drove along from Khalse and up the mountainside, it seemed like we could not keep ahead of the rain. In Khalse, it was blue skies. But a big, dark cloud appeared over the southern mountains and quickly grew into an imposing storm. More rain was exactly what this area did not need. We passed many small mudslides on the roads and in places, the road bed had begun to wash way into the river below. We realized that it was just a matter of time before more rain caused more slides. As we reached the 14000 ft pass at Lamyruru, it was raining hard and in an amazingly short period of time, the blue sky in from was enveloped with ominous rain clouds and the thunder and lightening began.

From then on, we were running with the rain. Riyad thought (rightly) that it was best to make good time on the road and try to get out of the the area quickly before the road closed and trapped us, or worse. However, no matter how slowly we drove, we were always driving too quickly for the conditions. When we were going 50km, we should have been going more like 30. When we were going 10km, we probably should have been stopped. Still, Riyad is a very good driver, so we had confidence that he knew what he was doing. He has driven this road for almost 20 years and knew all the curves and bumps.

When darkness fell, it got much worse. With the rain, we could see little of the narrow road. Debris and small mudslides would appear out of the dark into the headlights. At one point, we were driving alongside the Summu river, approaching Kargil. Through dark, I could see it coursing along more quickly than us; it was dark and full of mud and parts of trees. we hit a bit pothole or rock and the car bounced once, so that from my front seat vantage I was looking right into the river, past the eroded roadside. Then we bounced again and I was looking at the otherside of the road. Then we asked Riyad to kindly slow down, to which he readily agreed.

On the way from Khalse to Kargil, we passed dozens if not hundreds of mudslides. We thought that, as we got closer to Kargil, conditions would improve but they deteriorated. The largest slides were close to Kargil and some had been cleared only a short time before. And it was still raining hard. The last thrill of the trip came when we had to cross the Summu River into Kargil. The bridge is large and strong but at this time the river was clearly larger and stronger still. I mentioned this river earlier in the blog; on a good day it rips with tremendous force, down out of the Himalayas, and into Kargil. Now, it was completely out of control. We drove quickly across the bridge and held our collective breath as we watched the speed and force of water running below us. We had made it safely to Kargil; it was about 9 pm.

Surprisingly; amazingly, ridiculously, our driver wanted to continue, through the next pass. His thinking, again, was that it was better to clear the area before we became trapped. The group thought it was better that we were alive, so elected to overrule and stay the night. Riyad wasn't too happy, especially when two other vehicles that were traveling with us decided to continue the trip. Good luck might have got us to Kargil, but good judgment kept us there until daylight, when we could reassess.

In the morning, it was surprisingly not raining. Looking out from the river, however, blew my mind. I'll try to post some pictures of the water when I get the chance. Clearly, some of the areas of Kargil had flooded overnight, and there were large landslides in town. The area we looked across at had been described by Dr. Khan during our team visit to Kargil as 'unregulated development in a flood plane'. He was proven right by this obviously devastation. We also saw where the hillside had come down, forming an entirely new river into town and damaging several houses.

After stocking up with money from the only ATM in town, we hit the road again. In Kargil, we also added another member to the groud; Hilde, a Belgian girl who had been up the Zanskar valley and seen the rising water and slides coming first hand. She just wanted to get out of town so we made space for her. Riyad had heard that there were landslides for only a few kilometers out of town but, as it turned out, we encountered them for most of the the way to Sri Nagar, though fewer than the previous day's trip. Leaving Kargil, we again had to cross the Summu River across a bridge. A few moments of awe and wonder and we were safe on the other side. We followed this by a short dash along side the river, more or less at the same level as the road. Apparently, this part of the road is now gone but we had navigated most of the danger.

The drive for the next few hours was fairly uneventful. We drove through several picturesque towns and up into India Gate, the massive pass that drops you down into the Kashmir Valley. This part of the drive was amazing. Massive mountains and glaciers. All over the sweeping alpine meadow were nomads who bring sheep, goats, and horses up to the area for the summer pastures. This is a place I would like to get back to one day.

Dropping into the Kashmir Valley, is the most absurd road yet encountered. I thought the one along the Indus from Kargil that we drove in July was crazy; this one takes the cake. It is a mud and dirt track that is cut into the side of the steepest mountainside possible. As we skittered down the mud, I could feel the wheels sometimes spinning with a loss of traction, but overall, skilled driving took over and we made our way down the worst of it safely. At one point, we came across a bulldozer, pushing debris from the latest landslide off the edge of the cliff. As we waited for three of the longest minutes of my life, directly in the path of the slide, for the dozer to complete his work, I just stared, alternately, at the giant pile of small loose rock above the car, and the Kashmir Valley, hundreds of feet below.

As luck would have it, we had arrived just when a slide that had blocked the road for hours was cleared. The downside of this is that it meant coming up the narrow road were hundreds of trucks that had been delayed by the slide. Lot's of vehicles were still coming out of Kashmir but we were about the only ones going in. This meant we had to pass around the trucks on the thin, rough road. We passed may be one or two before Hilde had had enough and ordered Riyad to pull over and wait at a safe spot to let them pass. More good judgment. This got us out of the car and, because there were so many trucks still to come, we decided to walk down the road, through the jam. What a great walk. We took pictures and talked to some of the drivers and made our way most of the way down to the valley floor before Riyad caught up. One of the most memorable walks of my life.

After driving the car under a spilling water pipe to wash off the mud, we continued down the beautiful Kashmir Valley (also a place to go back to) all the way to Sri Nagar. We had escaped the disaster zone and entered a war zone....

Incredible Beauty, Incredible Tragedy: Part 3

Our first indication of trouble came before we went to bed, when our host, using her limited English, was able to convey to us that the bus we had planned to take from Ang back to Leh was not coming. She had heard this over the radio on the Ladakhi news. There was a rumour that the bus driver was already in Ang, so the other two in our party set off to find him and gain more information. However, when Philip and The Other Ross returned in the morning, they had established that the bus driver was nowhere to be found.

The first thing that I did when when I woke up in the morning was walk out to the road to find the bus stop, just in case. About 20m south of the guest house, I ran into the first mud on the road. It was a small slide, but covered the entire road with several inches of mud, requiring a bit of an awkward walk around. I turned north and made it about 15m past the guest house in the other direction before encountering a similar barrier. In my mind, I was starting to process what our options might be. We realized we would have to do some walking, perhaps as far as the highway, before we would be able to find a ride. We knew that a bridge had been damaged close to Leh so poured over the trekking maps looking for potential walk-arounds. Our plan at this point was to hitch a ride back as far as Basgo, then attempt to cross the Indus via a foot bridge and follow the south bank of the river to where it meets the Zanskar. From there, according to the map, we would be able to walk up to the Chilling road, thus bypassing the town of Nemyo, where the bridge had fallen. It would be a full day's walk.

As we set off out of Ang, things became more and more ominous. It was not long before we were walking beside the raging, brown Ang river. The day before it had been a picturesque clear mountain stream. Now, it threatened to breach the road bank and wash the road away. In places, the water had begun to come over the road as the bridges where to small to handle the volume of water. Water poured over the tops of the bridges. My feet started to break through the thin crust of pavement as it was undermined by the water. It felt like walking on thin ice.

There were numerous small landslides of porridge-like mud all along the road, most of them too deep to wade through. This started to give me concern because all around Ang, as well as a long stretch of the highway back to Leh is surrounded by massive, steep, unstable rock and mud slopes. I thought it was just a matter of time before we would encounter an insurmountable slide. Most of the Ladakh region is geologically different than that which surrounds it. Someone had told me that, when an ocean still divided Asia from India, Ladakh was an archipelago of islands in that ocean. As the two continental plates collided to form the Karakorum and Himalayan mountain ranges, Ladakh pressed into the middle. While the mountains of the great ranges are new, massive pillars of hard rock, most of the mountains in Ladakh are giant scree piles of soft stone that is easy to break apart in your hands. All of the towns and roads are built on and around these precarious slopes.

Additionally, Ladakh is a high altitude desert. Neither the natural nor man-made structures are designed to cope with large amounts of rain. Most of the buildings are made of mud bricks which are left out in the sun to dry. Everywhere in Ladakh, you can see mud bricks drying. The mortar between the bricks is a very sandy cement. In fact, I would say that it is also basically mud. There is some cement added to the sand and mud and water, but all that you need to do is pick with your fingers between the bricks and the cement will come away in your hands. Mud, rock, and sand are the only building materials available. There are very few trees and those are used to construct the roofs. That makes the walls and buildings of Ladakh ideal for the dry environment, but doesn't work so well when it rains.

After we had navigated several landslides and floods, we made it to one of the more luxurious hotels in the valley. Being the starting point for several treks in the area, there were several taxis there which had dropped of a new batch of hikers. We were saved. We managed to negotiate with a driver to take us to Basgo, well ahead of our predicted schedule.

We loaded up the taxi and made our way down the steep mountain road, without further incident, other than a scary crossing over a small bridge under which a massive, dark brown flow was crashing. On the way, we passed a couple of young trekkers slowly making their way down to the highway, moving stones from the road as they went. We got to to the highway, turned east, and made it about 2km. The first major bridge, in the town of Nimbo, was already under assault from the swollen river. A small section had fallen away and the army had closed the bridge to cars. Our options; cross the bridge on foot and hope to catch a ride on the other side, or wait on the safe side. We wisely chose to wait on the safe side of the bridge, to see what would happen; the first of many good decisions that we made as a group over the next two days.

Incredible Beauty, Incredible Tragedy: Part 2

It rained over night in Ulle, which I didn't think much about. In the morning, it was still cloudy and a little drizzly when we set out with our guide, Norboo, to look for snow leopards. It was a beautiful walk, through the barley fields and up onto the ridge. We didn't get very far, may be 100m beyond the last stone wall when Norboo pointed out the first snow leopard tracks. I was awestruck that the animal would have been so close to the house, obviously very recently as the rain would have otherwise washed the tracks away. It was apparent that the tracks belonged to a cat, and I would have thought a big one, but Norboo said it was just a baby.

We continued up higher into the hills until we made it to the summer pastures. We could see yak off in the distance, surprisingly high up the very steep hills. I've always thought yak would be a bit clumsy, but I guess not. Following a line of cairns, we eventually made it to a picturesque alpine river. Because of the night's rain, the river was too high to cross at the usual spot. We ventured farther upstream until we crested the hill and the river turned wide and calm. We doffed our boots and socks and waded into the brutally cold water. Shortly after crossing, there was another short walk up a hill to the top of the pass and the alpine lake that was our destination. It is a gorgeous spot; a small round lake situated in a crater from may be a volcano or some kind of meteor, with a view down the valley to massive 6000m peaks. What a great spot for lunch.

After a good break and tea, we headed back down. On the way, Norboo pointed out various medicial plants found in this particular area and I took loots of pictures of the amazing views and rocks. It looks like a climbing paradise; pictures to follow. At one spot, Norboo pointed out a rock that the snow leopards use to scratch themselves on. Looking really closely, I could see tiny white hairs on the underside of the rock. Unfortunately, this is as close as I actually got to a snow leopard, but still the hike and the chance was just as good as actually seeing one, may be. Norboo told us that Canadians were lucky when it came to seeing snow leopards. Last August, he had a Canadian woman come to stay at his house on a snow leopard quest. She arrived in the evening and, in the morning, watched from the window as a snow leopard killed and ibex, then spent the rest of the day photographing it. Lucky (not for the ibex).
The next day, we set off to walk from Ulle to Ang. This was going to be a long day. Over 18 km and across three passes, two of which were over 4700. It seemed a blessing at the time that it had rained again over night and so was cloudy when we set off. A blessing for walking, but rain in this area brings other problems. The rains had swollen the mountain rivers even more than the previous day and we had to been directed to a higher bridge that was safe to cross from our side of Ulle to the other. But, it was a fantastic walk.
We weren't sure about the location of the first pass, so Norboo agreed to meet us there. He was heading to Hemis, a small village on our route, so would take us over the pass. I managed to grunt up it, but it was a test. Relentlessly steep, and with a pack and the altitude, it was a test. I managed to get up, sucking in as much air as I could. Of course, it was nothing for Norboo. I don't mind that our Ladakhi guide can saunter up stuff like this. What I resent is the six year-old he brought along with him also sauntering up the pass like it is a walk to school. Carrying his school bag, because this was his walk to school. Seriously. The kid had a geometry set in his bag. Off to school for the day. Humbling.
Anyway, we summited the pass, had a quick rest and relax, then dropped down to Hemis. There we dropped the kid off at school and grabbed a quick lunch in a small outdoor restaurant. Energy for the next two passes. We left Norboo behind and quickly ascended the next, very easy pass. At the top, you look down into this massive rock and scree valley. It is spectacular and, way off in the distance, you can see another mountain rising out of the valley. And on the mountain, you can see a teeny, teeny line cutting its way from the bottom, back and forth, back and forth, until it reaches almost the top. That is the next pass. And as intimidating as it looked from there , it wasn't that bad in person. It was a good grade, not a steep grunt like the first one. May be we were just getting stronger by the minute.
We did it, had a celebratory rest and drink at the top and knocked off the descent into Ang through a narrow valley, with herds of pashmiri goats. When we arrived at Ang, we fould the first parachute cafe and enjoyed a cold mountain dew. Parachute cafes, literally cafes made from parachutes, are a common sight on the treks and provide welcome refreshment. After another quick walk through town, Doug and I located our friendly guest house, where we had some tea and a good rest before heading to bed for a deserved sleep. However, it was almost impossible to sleep that night. It thundered and lighteninged all night long. It rained until it was dripping through the roof onto my sleeping bag. It rained relentlessly thorough the night and very, very hard...