Rishikesh and the Kumaon Himalayas

After the chaos of Haridwar, Rishikesh sounded like a nice place to relax and replenish energy levels. I stayed in Swargashram, on the opposite bank of the river Ganges, across the ~120m long Ram Jhula suspension bridge, guarded by bands of rhesus monkeys. This place, brought to fame by The Beatles in the mid 1960's, now seems to be Yoga capital of the world: dozens of Ashrams offer cheap lodging, spiritual guidance and yoga tuition to pilgrims and lost souls. Around the town, plenty "westerners" can be observed, although many of them seem to have grown weird hair, donned colourful, baggy garments, and made Swargashram a long-term home.

I missed out on the Ashram experience, and stayed in a reasonable guest house on the southern edge of the town. After four days, two yoga classes, a haircut (including head massage and facial massage), I had still failed to feel spiritually enlightened or meet likeminded fellow travellers, and decided to continue my solitary journey up along the Ganges valley and into the lesser explored regions of the Uttaranchal highlands.

The first stop was Devprayag, situated at the confluence of the Bhagirathi and Alaknanda rivers, and official birthplace of the Ganges. The small town spans either side of the valley and to walk around involves climbing hundreds of steps, almost all of them leading upwards. Weary after the bus journey and the long slog across town with my packs, I make my way down to the river to bathe my feet. A drunk pot-smoking "priest" offers me a puja, which I try to refuse, but I end up getting water splashed on my forehead, repeating strange verses, and handing over my lighter as a "donation".

The following day I take an early bus up to Srinagar, where I stop for breakfast (Aloo Paratha). I squeeze on to another bus to Rudraprayag, where I fail to find suitable lodgings. One more bus takes me up the bumpy winding road to Karnaprayag in time for lunch (Aloo gobi).

Although I'd initially planned to stay in one of the "Prayags", after three bus journeys I decide to make a travel day of it, towards Gwaldam. The roads past Karnaprayag are pretty rough, landslides are common, and buses are replaced by "shared jeeps". I'm quite surprised that 13 people fit in the vehicle, but start to appreciate the warmth of the huddled human mass as the cold air blasts through the windowless vehicle. Three bumpy jeep rides later, I arrive in Gwaldam, freezing cold, and accept a basic room in the nearest guesthouse I find. I warm my hands next to a wood fire and drink a chai. A cloud descends on the village, it starts raining heavily, then snowing, so I crawl fully clothed under the blankets in the hard wooden bed of my room. The "window" of the room has no window pane, just a fine mesh, but I'm grateful at least for the four walls and corrugated iron roof.

By daybreak, the snow has stopped falling, and decorates the foggy village streets. Not a good day for seeing mountains, after the obligatory chai, I squeeze into another shared jeep down out of the clouds, across the valley and up again to Kausani, which supposedly offers some of the best views of the Uttarkhand Himalayas. Though I'm no longer in a cloud, they still cover the distant peaks, Nanda Devi is hiding from me. In the afternoon, I walk around the roads and tracks of the peaceful woodlands overlooking the snow-covered terraces and the valley below, hoping the clouds will clear by sunrise.

My wishes are granted... Finding the courage to emerge from my warm blankets at 7 a.m., I peek out of the window to see clear blue skies. I put on my warmest clothes and head out through the village towards the ridge, still no clouds in sight. When I arrive, the magnificent views of Nanda Devi, Trishul and company stretch 300km along the horizon, lit by a crisp horizontal light. The arduousness of the journey here fades into insignificance, this moment makes everything worthwhile.