The famous and the beautiful rhododendrons were beginning to appear. Unlike Yumthang valley, which is famous for rhododendron shrubs, this place had dwarfed rhododendron trees growing under the aegis of taller pines and deodars. The trail was relentless still and a short section of plain land or a descent was enough to lift our spirits. It would inadvertently make Prashant pull out his camera while Nandini would catch the hint smoothly as she would get her disheveled locks in place, put on her Gucci sunglasses, clear the non-existent dust from her ever-shining, red and white Tommy Hilfiger pullover and be ready for a pose, even before Prashant could decide a sweet spot for a picture. I would simply hop in the picture and later, return favors by taking Prashant’s picture, the integrating factor of all pictures being The Tilted Head with me or Prashant, somewhere in the background.
Three hours into the day and it looked like me, Prashant and Nandini were losing all steam to the altitude. Exhausted completely, we asked every passerby as to how far Pethang, our next camping ground was. And then to our delight, we saw a familiar figure. The tea-boy of our group appeared from the woods ahead of us with a kettle of hot drinks, climbing down towards us at brisk pace. Our delight multiplied when we realized that he had biscuits too and that the camping ground was not more than an hour away. We lapped up the hot drink and thought we were ready for another hour-long battle. The tea-boy, meanwhile, went further down to meet Zen, Sachin and Shujoy. Unfortunately, Zen’s health couldn’t hold it any longer. She decided to retreat back to Tsokha and wait for us to return victorious. Sachin decided to give her company like a true old friend.
Reaching Pethang after another hour, we rested happily and waited for the lunch to be served. But the irony is, the more you rest, the easier it is to catch cold. Meanwhile, after a long time, the exquisite singer in me had woken up too. Although the cold was in the bones, I and Prashant still had the spirits to sing our hearts loud while Nandini did what she knew the best.
Evening mist approached and we braced ourselves with layers of clothing to keep the monster away. With the nightfall, we receded to our tent into our sleeping bags while Prashant started his daily ritual of applying Volini at every possible joint on the body. I resorted to a hot water bag which was of great help to my lower back.
It rained for a while at night, or was it a hailstorm, we didn’t bother to venture out of our tents to discover. The bells in the necks of the yaks and horses clang continuously as they ate their fodder and I slipped into oblivion.
Three hours into the day and it looked like me, Prashant and Nandini were losing all steam to the altitude. Exhausted completely, we asked every passerby as to how far Pethang, our next camping ground was. And then to our delight, we saw a familiar figure. The tea-boy of our group appeared from the woods ahead of us with a kettle of hot drinks, climbing down towards us at brisk pace. Our delight multiplied when we realized that he had biscuits too and that the camping ground was not more than an hour away. We lapped up the hot drink and thought we were ready for another hour-long battle. The tea-boy, meanwhile, went further down to meet Zen, Sachin and Shujoy. Unfortunately, Zen’s health couldn’t hold it any longer. She decided to retreat back to Tsokha and wait for us to return victorious. Sachin decided to give her company like a true old friend.
Reaching Pethang after another hour, we rested happily and waited for the lunch to be served. But the irony is, the more you rest, the easier it is to catch cold. Meanwhile, after a long time, the exquisite singer in me had woken up too. Although the cold was in the bones, I and Prashant still had the spirits to sing our hearts loud while Nandini did what she knew the best.
Evening mist approached and we braced ourselves with layers of clothing to keep the monster away. With the nightfall, we receded to our tent into our sleeping bags while Prashant started his daily ritual of applying Volini at every possible joint on the body. I resorted to a hot water bag which was of great help to my lower back.
It rained for a while at night, or was it a hailstorm, we didn’t bother to venture out of our tents to discover. The bells in the necks of the yaks and horses clang continuously as they ate their fodder and I slipped into oblivion.
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