Tuesday, 1st May

We woke to brilliant sunshine, attempting to burst in from behind the blackout curtains. The Tum was fragile and nursing itself. But, as ever, the thrill of the light and bright blue sky swept those things aside.

After a good fruit breakfast and some egg we ventured forth to Tabo monastery. It was only yards down the road.

As we entered through the gate, there were prayer wheels to the side. I gave each one a turn and thought of particular people.

The monastery was a collection of pale creamy coloured mud made temples, which were unlocked for us by local monks.

The first we visited seemed very dark at first but then the eyes adjusted and shafts of light illuminated the frescoes from a square sky light above. Greatest visibility was said to be at 4pm once the sun had moved round (or the earth rather!) The delicacy of their intricate patterns was breathtaking. In the middle of the building sat a large Buddha and on the walls there were coloured mud carvings of Boddivistas – incarnations of Buddha. There was an enormous amount of decoration. No cameras were allowed so I cannot illustrate the tremendous artistry and dedication that had gone into creating that holy space.

Later, as we pulled away from Tabo in the Toyota, Anil selected a playlist of thoughtful Tibetan style music that put us into a meditative frame of mind.

After so many assumptions about Spiti Valley being nothing but bleak and barren I was humbled by the beauty of it in the morning sunshine.

Next stop was Dankhar: first a walk up to the lake and then to the monastery.

Dankhar Monastery sits high above the valley floor, commanding views for miles. How they built it a thousand years ago without vehicles or cranes is a mystery – but then all the monasteries up there are mysteries. Today we were going to challenge ourselves with a walk up through the thinning air to Dankar Lake at 4140m. It was pitilessly hot. Anil showed us how to walk slowly at this altitude, taking small steps and leaning forward as if portering. I was slightly nervous about it but we took our time and caught our breath every so often, and got to the top without any problems. Views, needless to say, were breathtaking..

As we left the steep path and onto the plateau where the lake is situated, we felt peaceful if a not a little triumphant. No one had keeled over or suffered. The lake itself was a pale turquoise oval sitting in a bowl of sand coloured rock. Nearby, stood a shrine, which Anil circled three times in a clockwise direction. I followed suit. The peace and beauty were transporting.

Here you can see Jeremy and Anil trying to fix a fallen flagpole.

They made a good attempt but unfortunately it fell back down again as we were leaving.

I went and dabbled my fingers in the lake. It was so cold it almost burnt the fingers.

There was a certain amount of bravado on the way down – Anil perching in Yogic pose on a very high ledge. Jeremy and I did our best..

Anil faithfully collected some litter on the way down and we then made our way across to Dankhar village, for something to eat.

Unfortunately however I couldn’t. Tum not cooperating at all. Instead I had a lovely honey lemon ginger tea which was very restorative.

We left Anil to chat with friends while we went over to the monastery. This was another extraordinary building built at different levels into the side of the cliff, with a whole collection of little inner temples. It was another good test of resistance to vertigo as we looked out of the windows and eventually stood on the roof!

We were achieving lots of firsts that day: highest lake, highest monastery and highest village visited so far.. and the weather was magnificent.

Next stop en route to Kaza, was Lalung. Anil was keen to take us to another remote village and see a tucked away temple. This involved more precipitous driving but by this time we were becoming enured to it. There didn’t seem to be anyone around but after a time a little old lady appeared, a nun, to unlock the temple’s secrets to us.

Like the other temples, this was rectangular and dark on the inside but intricately decorated, much of it undamaged despite its tremendous age. The reverence the nun had for the place was palpable, but she was full of smiles and chuckles, chatting amiably to us from her almost toothless mouth. She was not shy of being photographed but highly amused to see her own face. She radiated warmth and before we knew it we were all exchanging hugs. I held her little brown hands. They were warm and strong.

I don’t know why but I felt like crying when we left.

The day was wearing on, so we had to get back on the road to our next resting place: Kaza. The bendy roads continued and were lost in stupefied exhaustion, looking forward to getting there, staring out of the windows.

Eventually we reached the Deyzor Hotel in Kaza. Unbeknownst to me That Thing which I had been battling with was now about to take hold. We were shown to a nice corner room on the first floor but everywhere felt cold. There was no heating and no fire downstairs.. Electricity was also variable and not there when you needed it. I attempted to have a shower but the solar power hadn’t warmed the water much and there was the usual problem of the raised drain and whole room becoming flooded if you used the shower head. I must say it was a struggle that evening as we adjusted to the new place, the colder weather and feeling tired.

We had a chilly supper downstairs in our coats and a shawl and then hastened to bed where we were at least accorded some hot water bottles.

I then passed a fitful night doing battle with Whatever It Was.