Bob's Blog

Himalayan Foothills

Early morning walk, and roadside flowers, on the road to Shimla

Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.
—Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Finally, after months of idleness in Goa, I have made it back to the foothills of the Himalayas. I should have left some time ago – it's all too easy to read the newspapers, and believe nigh all is impossible.

Anyhow, I jumped on a flight to Delhi – full of hazmatted passengers. Trained it to Chandigarh to acquire a health certificate from the hospital, mixing it up with the great infected. Then after waiting two days to get the cert, I had 24 hours to cross the border before it became invalid. Finally, I rickshawed it up to Kalka, on the border with Himachal Pradesh.

Kalka is the town from where the Raj built a scenic narrow-gauge mountain railway up to their summer capital, Shimla. I arrived just before dusk and tried the police post at the end of the town, to be told that I had to go to another checkpoint on the bypass road, a seven kilometer walk. It was late but with the clock ticking, on I pushed. And no one was picking up hitchhikers at the moment, despite my attempts!

I arrived at the border to some form of organised chaos. I waited patiently, knowing I would have to convince the officials, despite having the required. They obviously didn't get many people on foot and demanded that I needed a taxi to cross.

"Sir, we can't enter your details without a vehicle registration number."

Computer says no eh. They eventually relented, and took my details, though I suspect they just bodged it. So excitedly, through I went, to the land of the Himalayan foothills.

I was so relieved and full of adrenalin that I continued to walk for another six kilometers until I found a camp spot right next to the mountain train track, complete with an abandoned fast food van. It was my first time using a tarp as a tent, and in the dark I made my best effort to make an 'A-frame' pitch, with my quickly unwinding, wind-up torch held between my teeth. The ground was rough and uneven and I don't think I slept a wink.

When the sun rose, so did I, walking through a massive monsoon downpour to the nearest town of Dharampur, where I found a bus onwards to the summer capital.