Descent through Spiti Valley Sun 6th-Tues 8th May

(Tabo to Shimla via Kalpa)

It proved to be a lengthy and energetic journey.

After a last look round Tabo Monastery we left the Maitreyor and loaded the bags into the faithful Toyota, to start down the valley. There were about 2500m to descend.

The roads were just as interminably windy as they had been on the way up, only the weather cast an entirely different shadow over the rock. Without the back drop of the blue sky and sunlight, the colours had cooled and merged into a pale sandy brown.

With 150 tricky kilometres to get through there was nothing for it. The heavy metal was back on again and we blasted our way forward to the sounds of Guns n Roses, Metallica, and Pink Floyd, remorselessly. Later, we listened to the lighter more disco beat of Avicii, but for now, as captain of our little travel machine, Anil needed to have his head, and fly.

We made a couple of stops, for chai and then for food, but we just had to keep going. I was struck by this note outside one place:

It said it all.

In fact we had seen many little roadside epithets on our journeys, ranging from the philosophical “If you can dream you can do it” and “Education is not filling a bucket but lighting a fire!” to the sage “It’s not a rally enjoy the Valley!” Or even, outside Spellow, “peep peep don’t sleep!”

You cannot afford to let your attention wander for a second.

Trucks and buses were out in force today, labouring up and down the narrow road. It made for some gasp- worthy overtaking, but all successful, thank goodness!

Trucks are the real warriors of the road here, brightly painted and sharp edged.

Sadly we did see one that had come to grief, a tangle of dented metal down a hillside. We didn’t linger long to look.

With great concentration Anil cheerfully negotiated bend after bend until we finally reached the valley floor and the confluence of the Spiti with the Sutlej River. We stopped by the big Bailey bridge which spans the two and drank the air.

It was wonderful to get out and walk, and feel the breeze. Anil fooled around with the slo-mo function on my camera, which was quite fun.

The two rivers looked entirely different. The Sutlej, from Tibet, was brown and sandy, the Spiti a gushing mountain green. Together the torrents forged a mighty surging force tumbling under the bridge.

We continued on to Spellow for an afternoon momo stop, and then eventually arrived, very tired, in the early evening at Kalpa, about 8kms up above Reckong Peo. Everywhere we went looked different now, under the slightly lowering weather.

Our room at ‘The Grand Shamba-La’ was up 7 flights of stairs. I felt terrible for the spindly coolies who had to porter our bags up..Once up there we were delighted to discover a heater in our room, and a small balcony offering superb views across to the Kinner Kailash range (not the same location as the sacred Mount Kailash!). We even had power and a non leaking shower. We sat there and luxuriated for a time.

But the weather was closing in…

In the evening we went in search of a drink in the Yeti Bar at the back and ran into a holy delegation from Key Monastery. An important Rimpoche and his retinue were dining there, and we were asked whether we minded all being together. Of course we didn’t!!

We all sat in rows facing an enormous screen and were shown footage of an audience given by the Dalai Lama. It was lovely to see his twinkling face again and hear his voice. There followed an old documentary in Italian about the Kinnauri people and customs. It was extraordinary to know we had witnessed the very things they had filmed, only decades later. A veritable banquet of food was then served to us, by the owner of the hotel, in full Kinnauri costume.

When we got up to leave later, we said our thank yous to the delegation for not minding us being there, and the Rimpoche beamed. He took my hand and held it warmly. “God bless you!” he said. I did indeed feel blessed! We retired, well fed and watered to glorious bed.

*******

We lingered for only a day in Kalpa. The weather was deteriorating and the cold and damp were pervasive. We couldn’t catch up with much owing to a lack of signal. Thunder tumbled around and down came the rain. We managed one afternoon walk but not much else. By Tuesday morning – a good case of cabin fever was on the brew.

“I’m just looking at our options!” declared Jeremy. (A nice warm feeling came over me). I carried on with my shower so he could continue his ponderings unswayed by me! He then proposed to cut out some of the next stops and re route directly to a hotel outside Shimla called Wildflower Hall. It would be another very long drive but get us further down the track to our final destination: Amritsar. The motion was passed unanimously. Anil was also delighted as Shimla was home for him.

Off we set and into the weather. We had RAIN. It chased us along down the valley with our fears of floods and landslides. These are a regular if unpredictable occurrence, and can close roads for days. We almost cowed in the car as we ploughed on, even driving through dense cloud once we got near Shimla..

Jeremy had booked us into a very smart hotel called Wildflower Hall.

It felt like walking out of one world and into another as we got out, on end and filthy, to be reverentially greeted by the General Manager with his uniformed staff in immaculate English. In embarrassed shock we were conducted to our room which immediately wrapped us round in its enveloping warmth. A double bed the size of a football field and large downey pillows awaited. The huge plate glass window afforded views for miles around over hills and trees and in the very far distance the mountains we had just left. But we needed to change and cleanse. There was the untold luxury of a bath to climb into with oceans of hot water. Jeremy ordered us a glass of wine and I practically passed out taking sleepy gulps of it. We had come through all the perils of the valley, with no crashes, landslides or accidents and now we were here, in this parallel international universe.