Spiti - Why It Should Be Your Next Adventure

The landscapes. Spiti falls in the rain shadow of the Himalayas. And so, like it’s bigger sister Ladakh, it is part of the desert Himalaya. What that means is, you get to see the Himalayas in a different hue- grey, harsh in a way the greener parts can never be. But those greys and the whites of the snow capped peaks, the deep canyons and gorges, the small whitewashed villages, the crumbling monasteries, all set against the incredible blue of the sky make for landscapes that inspire awe, quite like no other. 

The river Spiti itself. It looks like a wide stream of mercury in most places, the glacial grey glinting in the sunlight. Spitian villages are mostly on its banks, or the banks of its tributaries, and you are invariably following it as you drive around the valley. It’s rarely very wide, but you can feel its power as you gaze awestruck at the gorges and canyons it flows through.

The monasteries. Spiti is Tibetan Buddhist land. And there are an incredible number of monasteries, for such a small population. Most of them are set high up, a number of them are the oldest living monasteries and are crumbling, and each has its own mythology that the monks are happy to tell you about. My favourite was the ancient Tabo one, with beautiful murals on its mud walls that are not going to remain for much longer if the archeological society isn’t going to do something soon. The Kee monastery has a stunning setting and is probably the single most famous image of Spiti. The Dhankar monastery (Dhankar means fort on a hill) stands on a cliff that is eroding. And while it provides some spectacular views, UNESCO declares it endangered. 

The high altitude lakes. We saw 2 of them - the breathtaking Chandratal and the Dhankar lake that required a bit of a hike to get to. These, to be honest, are no comparison in size or beauty to a Pangong Tso in Ladakh, but surrounded by snow-capped mountains, these water bodies still have a magic difficult to ignore. 

The villages and the people. Literally hamlets, with each comprising of little more than a dozen houses, the villages are spread right across the valley. They are some of the highest inhabited ones in the world - Komic is at at 4750 meters and claims to be the highest motorable one in Asia, Hikkim, at 4400 meters has the world’s highest post office. The houses are white washed and they stand out beautifully against stark backgrounds. Given that the valley is cut off from the rest of the world for more than 6 months in the year, the villages house hardy but simple folk, who tend their sheep, cows and yaks and farm the little they can in a really short summer. They welcome you with smiles and happily offer you what little they have. Tourism is gaining ground and home-stays and guest houses are gaining popularity, but it’s going to be a while before these pretty villages become part of the mainstream. 

The night skies. We were pretty unlucky on this front in Spiti- cloudy skies meant little chance to stargaze. But one night in Tabo, we looked up and were mesmerised. I hadn’t ever seen this many stars or the Milky Way. We weren’t adept enough in photography to capture that beauty - but it sure will stay with me in my mind’s eye. 

The inaccessibility. It literally takes 2 days to get to Spiti - the European Alps have easier access. The roads are terrible and crumbly, it takes incredible driving skills to get there, you will have to budget for extra time spent on the roads due to landslides, and god forbid you fall seriously ill - the nearest well equipped hospital is at least 12 hours away. Combine that with altitudes between 3800 and 5000 meters, and you are in a place that is quite untamed from a tourist perspective. But that’s part of the thrill that is Spiti travel. How many beautiful places in the world can you think of that provide this kind of an adventure? 

Our 7 day trip to this wild gorgeousness was rough. As it should be. The altitude meant our day hikes needed to be taken real slow, to take into account the the low levels of oxygen. Everything that the valley needs comes in by trucks through high passes on almost non-existent roads. So the food tends to be simple (though Kaza has some organic restaurants) and was mostly dal rice and Maggi. Hotels were basic, homestays were rudimentary. We were stuck for 12 hours on a mountain road that had been washed away. For a middle aged city dweller, it all tends to come as a bit of a shock. And then you take a look at the incredible beauty around - at the grey, snow capped mountains and the sky that invented blue and the ever-present winding river, the blue sheep and the yaks, the whitewashed villages and the monasteries. And you offer up a prayer of gratitude, and recognize how lucky you are to be there at that time, that place. 

Snapshots

A week-long trip to north-eastern India yielded rich photographic dividends. There were animals in the wild, snow on the mountains, miles of tea gardens, interesting local faces… We went a bit trigger-happy with our cameras and here are some of the results.

We went looking for the one-horned rhino in Kaziranga and found enough to satiate. They looked like armoured tanks but seemed pretty tame and timid to us from the lofty heights of an elephant-back. There were supposed to be 1855 of them in 2006, but we heard 10 of them were poached in the past 6 months. Greed does strange things to people.

We also found deer that went by strange names, a family of very shy wild elephants, wild boar, tortoises that I would have missed had someone not pointed them out to me and various birds whose names have vanished from my memory. All taken in over a long leisurely tramp (the elephant tramped, we clung on) over wild grass to the background music of elephants chomping away, birds twittering and the occasional elephant roar.

An un-hurried trip on a dinghy down a sedate river (the Pia Bhorelli) was pretty mind-emptying and led even the least poetic of us to talk in similes and metaphors. Doesn't that look like glass and broken glass?

The border crossing from Assam to Arunachal was pretty dramatic – the landscape changed starkly from the plains to the mountains, the girls were prettier and it was markedly colder. Every woman seemed to be carrying a baby on her back. And there were road workers everywhere – it seemed to be only one of 2 or 3 occupations people had locally. And surprisingly all the road workers seemed to be women. Some with babies on their back!

There is something primeval and secretive about the mountains – and when they are covered with snow, it is sheer magic. I can’t ever get used to snow. I came late in life to it and I feel blessed when I see it, touch it. Christmas postcards were the closest I ever came to it in childhood…and this had that postcard-like feel to it.

When in the mountains, can adventure be far behind? Ice on the narrow mountain roads, an army truck that had slipped, a blocked road and no way to turn back. A pretty pickle. Thankfully the local road workers (all women, putting all of us including the army men to shame) came to our rescue with their pick axe and hardiness.

This was the site of the scariest 15 minutes of our life. A narrow mountain road, mist all around, zero visibility to speak of and a driver who seemed to know no fear.

The army is ubiquitous. At 14,000 feet they are the only sign of life, other than a few hamlets. There are army bunkers in the ice and photography is forbidden there. The 1962 China war is scattered all around – in memorials to brave soldiers, in local legends and in places named after the dead. It was a war we lost and unlike Ladakh where there were chest thumping Kargil memorials, here there are some shockers. Like the plaque in a memorial that listed out ‘The Guilty’. They included ‘the magnanimity of Nehru, the presumptuousness of Krishna Menon, the failure of army and civil intelligence, the lack of high altitude training…’ It is a stark reminder that this area is still under dispute. That China claims Arunachal as their own and in 1962, they had actually occupied Tawang town. Eerie!

But then there is Amit Paul. For the first time in years the North-East was part of a mainstream pop phenomenon. The runner-up in season 3 of Indian Idol, Amit is very much a local hero even though he hails from Shillong. His posters dot Tawang’s marketplace and his show in Dirang the night we were there was sold out. It was heartening to see this sign of integration.

Tawang monastery was a bit of a disappointment. Ladakh’s monasteries seem much older and much more a part of local life. And they were prettier. But there were these really pretty murals and the player hall was colourful and dark and mysterious.

A tea garden in Assam had to be our last stop. It was a little bit of luxury in an otherwise Spartan trip. A night at a heritage property (a restored planter’s bungalow, a visit to a tea estate and a glimpse into the high life of a plantation manager were the highlights. The tea garden was pretty – tea plants as far as the eye can see. And the plantation manager was hospitable with his tea and whiskey to 2 complete strangers. It is a different life and in the midst of 14 hour work days, you kind of long for that kind of time, space and comfort.