So many possibilities existed for exploration on foot around Keylong that we had to do some scouting missions just to help us decide where to go. On one of these missions we walked down the road to the east which ran about half way up one side of the valley. Looking upward there were limitless possibilities for climbing up into the jagged mountains. Staying on the road was actually pretty impressive, giving the perfect vantage point for seeing the other side of the valley. Looking down, there were villages, potato terraces, and at the bottom was a gushing energetic river blasting its way through the rocks. From the road it was frequently impossible to actually see the river, a common scenario when rivers cut fast and deep. When it was visible however, we saw a milky greenish blue water – glacial runoff saturated with minerals and silt. Since it was the tail end of monsoon season and this was just on the border of monsoon territory there was a LOT of water and it was moving very quickly. The surface was rippled with waves and foam. A person could disappear forever in a matter of seconds if they were unwise enough to jump in for a swim.
One area stood out on our walk. There was a beautifully terraced land formation on the opposite side of the valley and just below it the river was lined with colorful layers of exposed bedrock. It would make for a nice afternoon of climbing around and relaxing by the river. It would also be some good exercise – several miles with lots of steep up and down hill. Perfect. We picked a day and set out nice and early with plenty of water, a couple of apples from Dawa’s family apple farm, and a bag of samosas from my new favorite samosa shop.
The road and its views of the valley were familiar to us but once we found the trail down toward the river it was all new. It was a trail used by horses to bring up sacks of potatoes to the road. We passed through a cluster of homes toward the bottom and one of the inhabitants pointed us in the right direction to the bridge. It was the only way across the river for quite a distance in either direction. When we reached the bridge we were given a nice taste of this river’s personality. Vertical walls of intricately carved rock ascended from the water and the various dimensions of the valley looked entirely different than they did from the road. Grassy slopes led up to the terraces on the other side and a flock of sheep was grazing under the guidance of a one-eyed gaddi (shepherd).
We weren’t really able to communicate with the gaddi but I got the feeling he would prefer we didn’t go too near his flock, maybe the sheep would get spooked or something, so we headed up a narrow switchbacking trail that finally leveled out at the terraced potato fields. We worked our way through what vaguely seemed like a path through the terraces. Funny thing about terraces – they look way better when you look at them from far away, like the other side of the valley. Walking through them doesn’t give the perspective to see how beautiful they are on a larger scale. As we were coming to this realization it started to sprinkle. And the sprinkle turned into rain. There were almost no trees around to provide cover but we spotted a small grove and quickly made our way toward it. Due to a rare instance of thorough planning we actually had our almost weightless and unused ponchos with us so we dug them out and put them on as the rain increased and we just waited under the trees for a few minutes. There are worse things that a person could be doing than hanging around doing nothing in such a place. The people who were digging up potatoes just kept going, barefoot in the moistening soil.
It was one of those days when clusters of clouds blow over with some speed behind them. Short bursts of rain could be seen moving over the landscape and disappearing. Once it started to die down we moved on. There was a tiny village amongst the terraces with some nice old stone houses, walls made of firewood, and of course animals. We found our way to the opposite side of this little plateau and found a way back down toward the river. As we approached the roaring water the scenery unfolded in wonderful ways. Rolling grassy slopes with stunted trees poking out. The water flowed through exposed colorful layers of bare rock with equally colorful boulders of all sizes piled in ways that only nature could conceive.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for colorful rocks and this river provided a lot to look at. The layers of stone must have been very slanted or even vertical with the river slicing through them all because as we walked and climbed the colors changed dramatically. It was a little odd that this incredible variety of colorful displays were confined to such a short stretch of the river, maybe a quarter mile or half mile. Upstream and downstream the rocks were all dark gray – beautiful in its own way, but I could have spent days in this little pocket of strange colorful curves and my eyes would’ve never gotten bored.
We climbed around like children at a playground and eventually got back to the bridge, with the sun getting low in the west. Time to start heading back.
With the sensory overload and steep terrain, we were pretty worn out. Definitely energy well spent. As we walked along the road back to Keylong I daydreamed about being at home with some paint and a canvas. I suppose that will have to wait.
jim@snorkelbandits.com