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Arriving in Kasol, 5 hours since departing Manali and we had entered the gateway to the quaint villages of Parvatti Valley. Temperatures decreasing and backpacker numbers dwindling. We had been catching the tail end of high-season each new place we visited, but there were no shortage of travellers in town on this occassion. For those Israeli's still in the North, Kasol was to be the meeting place fr Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year) celebrations. There was a nice atmosphere and we were soon adopted as part of the extended family.
The "real" party however, was unorthadox to say the least. In the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the night, a few hundred Israeli's gathered to welcome in their New Year, dancing in a tribal like trance. Cold and tired, Mike and I had miraculously jumped out of bed once our alarm begun to ring. 3am, Sunday morning, we headed out resolute into the night sky. For an hour we walked along the winding road. The darkness barely dented by the failing glow from our cheap Indian torch, powered by even cheaper Indian batteries. Mike was certain we had ventured too far and he was right. The blaring music could be heard from accross the valley, but with no bridge to cross te violend river between, we feared our effors had been in vain. Turning back 15 minutes, we noticed an unobvious pathway and sliding our way down, we found some company with a welcoming flashlight. They guided the rest of the way and we had made it in time for sunrise. Whilst the party was fun, it was nothing more and being only 2 of a handfull of NIT's (Non-Israeli Traveller's) was becoming a little suffocating.
Kasol itself is a beutiful place though, with an abundance of walks along the Parvatti River and the through forests that resemble the set from Lord of the Rings. A night spent cooking and sleeping around a campfire with some friends was really enjoyable. Sleeping under the stars ad getting back to nature can be so rewarding.
From Kasol, a bus and short hike took us to the charming village of Tosh. Having nearly slipped to my certain death whilste scrambling along a cliff-face in a desperate attempt to pee, I was relieved to have made it. The place was heaving, with local tourists in town for the annual sheep slaughering festival. After days of ceremon and parades, a sheep is beheaded on the rooftop of each household, all at the same time. This was of course disturbing, but not as disturbing as what I was about to see.
A woman we had just been laughing and joking with one minute, grabbed my shoulders and levered herself up. She was shaking frntically, almost Shamen like. Making her way to the center, chanting a pleading towards the statues of idols that were being carried by extravogantly dressed men. Her slightly concerned, but more embarrassed looking brother, insisted this behaviour was nothing to be concerned about. He went on to explain how an evil spirit was leaving her and being replaced by a good one. "She'll be fine in a minute", he said. A bulge in the womans throught that I had not previously nticed, had swelled like a balloon to the size of an orange.
Although this experience was harrowing and our gueast house in Tosh was not so great, India was cerainly growing on me. A further few hours hiking and we made it to a small commune and natural hot-spring, on the peak of Kirriganga. Exceptional scenery and but a handfulf locals made this bathing experience like no other. Few tourists or even spiritual pilgrims ever make it to Kirriganga, due to its awkward and isolated location. No suprise then to find out that two guys who insisted I share a drink with them, turned out to be a drug dealer seeking refuge from pursuing officers and his trusted lawyed and lifelong friend. With corruption rife in India, it's not unusual to encounter Indian friends on opposing sides of the law.
Finally, a very stormy night in Kalga and a couple of nights alone in Manikaran and Mike and I were reuinited in Kasol.
previous travel blog entry
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