Baspa Valley ~ A taste of the outdoors

Sunday 29th April

Rocking and rolling our way back down that infamous stretch of unmade road we rejoined the main Hindustan Tibetan highway towards the Sangla Valley.

The road had been cut out of the side of the mountain. We watched incredulous as the rock loomed over us in a half tunnel. How did they manage to blast it, we wondered, without bringing it all down on top of them…?

Supports for crash barriers appeared to be in place though not always the barriers themselves. Occasionally, there were car sized gaps in even those. It was best not to look too closely. We were gaining height and the drop to the valley floor growing greater by the minute. Anil patiently waited whilst we squealed for him to stop so we could take photos….We could not always afford to linger however, lest we were hit by ‘shooting stones’.

Here you can see a road cut into the rock on the other side of the valley, much further down.

The scenery took our breath away.

Arriving later at Sangla, we found ourselves amidst an annual procession of the Hindu and Buddhist deities combined, carried along between poles, their bizarrely shaped cylindrical effigies bearing long fringed black tassels which swung about like hair. Drum beats, clashing symbols and horns helped the public walk in time along with the main band. Since we could not possibly barge through them all we got out of the car and joined in. From everywhere we were pressed with little sweets or dried dates as a symbol of welcome. It took a good three quarters of an hour before we could make much progress in the Toyota.

Anil was incredibly happy that we had chanced upon this festival. Here he is in holding some of the dates.

A while later we arrived in the Baspa Valley and found our next resting place: Kinner Camps. As ever, I was slightly taken aback by the steep access, which I will try and include here.

Kinner is a permanent outdoor encampment of large tents, each with beds and a loo/washing area ‘ensuite’ behind a curtain at the back. It all seemed very cosy on arrival.

After a welcome spot of late lunch in the main dining tent, we decided to walk rather than continue driving any further down the valley.

It was wonderful to stretch the legs. We took the path through the pines and across the river Baspa towards a village called Baseri – which seemed to have been frozen in time.. We crossed the river along a rickety bridge. I loved the noises and the colours of the river. It rushed furiously by in a great mountain torrent.

Baseri is so tucked away that our path was something of a highway. We saw several young men leaping downhill towards us, and then later toiling back with enormous loads of supplies on their backs. No one had an ounce of spare flesh on them.

In the village we encountered the same procession as in Sangla, the two deities still on their rounds. They emerged from the temple and were carried right round another building in the main square. The drum was beaten, cymbals clashed and a horn blown. Lots of people watched on the sidelines. Then someone appeared with some apple liquor and offered it to us. We slurped it out of our cupped hands. They were very amused that we drank it! Some lightly cooked flat bread was also proffered spread with butter. The whole idea was to include us which was kind.

Unlike many places, the village was spotless, the only litter being the natural muck from cows etc. There were many well tended small orchards in which wheat was also growing. The colours were all soft greens and browns. There were a wealth of fine wood carvings, ornamenting the main buildings, depicting in some cases erotic scenes. Wooden carved spindles also hung from roofs in fringes. The detail in all of the carving was staggering.

It was a getting a bit chilly after a while, so we turned back.

It was going to get a good deal colder in fact! After having supper in the main tent we headed back to ours. The temperature had gone down to around zero by this time. Suddenly, taking off any items of clothing felt like torture, but off they had to come. After the fastest possible spruce in the bucket, I yanked on my thermals, piled on some pyjamas, a fleece and thick socks and dived under the covers. They had put a water bottle for each of us in our beds – the only source of outside heat. I appreciate this temperature barely approaches cold in relative terms, but my whole body convulsed with shivers for a while before slowing and warming.

We slept a little, but I woke early and watched the dawn glow through the canvas, longing for a hot drink. I was very pleased therefore when Tulsi, our friendly cook and host, popped his head round with some ‘bed tea’ at about 6am. Dressing and packing fast, we breakfasted in minus 1, on a veritable feast of fruit, eggs, cereal and toasted paneer (cheese) sandwiches. He even packed us off with some bananas. Just as well, as a long day was about to ensue!