Crossing The Himalayas #９ / トラウマの大ヒマラヤ山脈横断♯９

Crossing The Himalayas – India GHT #４: By Justin “Trauma” Lichter

I remembered the name of the restaurant Robin had told me and asked someone on the street where it was. I headed up a narrow, dark road to the restaurant. It was a nice place and Robin was at a table with eight or nine people when I walked up. He had briefed them that I might come and everyone turned towards me laughing and smiling as I walked up. They were all excited to see me and hear about the adventure. I pulled a chair up next to Robin and instantly conversation broke out around the table. Robin was from Australia, but lived part of the year in Kathmandu, and the others at the table were from the U.K. and Australia. It was great to be surrounded by English speakers and be able to communicate normally. Since Pepper had left about a month before I had hardly been able to communicate normally with anybody and it starts to wear on me. A lot of Indians speak English, or enough English to communicate, but it is different. I have a dry sense of humor and it is hard because if English isn’t somebody’s primary language they don’t understand my jokes. Then I stop joking and being myself. For the first time in a month I could joke with people and talk normally. It was a great evening, without even mentioning the pizza and desert that I ordered. I left the table with new friends and have even kept in touch with Robin after the trip. I headed back to the hotel exhausted well past “hiker midnight” but it was a great night and a welcome mental break from the hike. I was reinvigorated for the last week of the trip.

I resupplied the next morning while walking around town and visiting all of the food stalls in town. I was scrounging around trying to find anything that would suffice for the last week. I was lucky again and found another duty box of Corn Flakes in the back of the stall hidden behind a bunch of other boxes of random things. I bought two more lighters and some gasoline and walked out of town. I was hoping that heading into the Ladakh/Leh region of India that I would also be able to supplement some of my food with teahouses or some meals along the route. The Ladakh/Leh area is a popular trekking destination for tourists and I was going to take a few lesser-used trails to a more popular trail. I was hoping in a couple of days time I would be able to supplement my food supply.

After hiking out of town on the road for almost a full day, I turned off on a well-used trail towards another high pass. It was getting dark and I was in grassy areas that were being used for grazing. It would have been good camping but I typically try to camp away from people since I think it is safer and I won’t be bothered or messed with it night. This wasn’t an option as I was at about 4000 meters elevation and it was prime grazing area. There were various groups of people occupying any flat space around for their herds. As the sun was setting I walked up towards a large herd of sheep and flushed them towards their owner. The guy signaled to me and I went over to talk to him. He spoke minimal English but he got the point across. He asked me to set up camp near his house and be his guest. In broken English we communicated and I got his name, Mulan. I helped him round up his sheep and goats for the night so they would be safe near his small house. The house was made from scattered debris in the area and was about 2 meters by 2 meters with a roof about 1.5 meters tall. It was just big enough for two small blankets on the ground and a fire in the corner to cook on. The sheep and goats and a couple of dogs surrounded the outpost. Mulan said that him and his brother come up to graze the herd for the summer months and they return back home down the valley to their families. The herd is their livelihood and their source of income. Mulan stepped away and I set up my tent about 10 meters from their house. The sheep kept coming over to check me out and try to eat my tent. Mulan had gone over and slaughtered a sheep. He was butchering the meat and bringing it in to his brother. When he was done he went and milked the goats and brought a large, golden vase inside. I stood and watched him. He then waved me into the house. We sat there in silence with the occasional question starting a brief conversation. Meat strips were hanging from the ceiling above the fire to dry and preserve them. They only had a few bags laying in the corners of the hovel – one was flour, another was sugar, and another salt. Some smaller bags held curry and other spices and some blackened pots and pans sat on a couple of shelves. Mulan’s brother was mixing flour and water and pounding it flat before placing it in the fire. He was making fresh roti. Meanwhile a pan was simmering with fresh mutton, goat’s milk, and curry. Mulan mentioned that he slaughtered the fresh sheep because they were having a guest. I was incredibly thankful and honored for their hospitality.

As we started to eat Mulan handed his brother and I a cup of fresh goat’s milk. We ate up and in the back of my head I wondered if I was going to get sick from the unpasteurized and unhomoginized milk. As I started eating the thought fled my mind. The meal was the best meal I had eaten in months. I kept waiting for a stringy, chewy piece of mutton, but it never happened. It was the most tender, melt in your mouth meat that I have ever had. I was blown away and in heaven sitting cross legged on a blanket in a tiny abode with two complete strangers that were the most giving hosts I have ever met. I went to sleep with the sheep bleating all around, amazed and with my hunger completely satisfied.

The next morning I woke just before sunrise and Mulan was already walking around awake. He had slept outside the hovel in order to protect the herd. His brother does all of the cooking and sleeps inside and Mulan always sleeps outside. He went over to milk the goats again, but this time he stopped and pointed to me. I was nervous but the huge grin on his face eased my nerves. I milked the goats into the golden vase this time. Mulan laughed at me and I think it made his day. He grabbed the golden vase and brought it over to the fire to make some milk tea. As I packed up my tent he handed me a cup of milk tea with the fresh milk. It was a great start to the day and the experience was a great way to wrap up the trip. I thanked and said goodbye to Mulan and hiked away. I was sad to go. I could have lived there among the meadows and peaks of the Great Himalaya range, but it was time to move on.