Had breakfast with Riko in a delightful German bakery, just next to the river. The sun was shining through the pine trees, and I thought about all the people back at Bishop Bell having to go to work, and had a real twinge of happiness that I didn't. Until I realised it was Sunday, and no one was at work.
Riko (I will write a separate entry on him) had a plan today to go by local bus a few kilometres, to a dam, and then take a walk up to an old village called Malana in the hills where there was a special temple. With nothing better to do, I suggested that we both go on Carmen.
But first, a trip to Mr Rama Enfield Mechanic to sort out her Speedo and Milometer. In 20 seconds he diagnosed the problem, in 5 minutes he had her headlamp off and was rummaging around in her innards, and within 15 there was a brand new cable somewhere and everything was working again. That cost 120 rupees, about £1.80. A full service will cost 1000 rps (about £14), but I owe it to Carmen so booked her in in the afternoon.
We headed off back down the valley. First time I have driven Carmen with someone on the back, and she behaved perfectly, sticking to the road, and not bulking at the steep hills or rough surfaces.
The village is 'protected' due to historical and spiritual significance, so we had to go and sign in at a Police Station. Although I think they are more worried about security at the new hydro-electric plant on the way. The road wound steeply up through a side valley, the views magnificent below us.
We reached a checkpoint, and again our passports were checked. This took four people - one to read it, one to pass it to the third person, who wrote our details in a book, and a fourth as substitute, just in case any of the first three got tired.
They said up the road and turn left at the bridge. It was 2 hours up the road. And then they said 2km up the road. Either way, it would have to be on foot as Carmen was not allowed any further.
As we started walking up the road to the powerplant, a skinny brown and black dog started tagging along. She was really friendly, not aggressive or needy, and just seemed to want the company. She also seemed to know where we were going as she soon started leading us.
The road led through a couple of machine graveyards, up to the dam, past some offices and through a cavernous tunnel. Eventually we found the bridge, slightly more than 2km. The dog led us to some narrow steps, just to the left, in a crack in the wall by a stream. It was obviously going to be 2 hours trekking, not just 2km.
The path wound very steeply up. I wont bore you with the details, but it was very steep, at an altitude of well over 2000m. Sometimes steps, but mostly a rocky path through the pine trees. It was hard going, and very quickly my heart was hammering, sweat starting to run down my back, and my thighs burning.
The dog was a very good guide. Always leading to the easiest path, sometimes running back to check that Riko was ok. I started calling her Gimbal, as one of her ears flopped over.
Riko was going at a slower pace than I, so rather than try and do it together, I went on ahead. Gimbal came with me, and we went up and up. We passed a couple of Shepherds who tried to sell us some Malana Cream (Hashish), and some children who were gathering up the plants and rolling in their hands to produce the resin.
The village really didn't disappoint when I got there. A hundred or more dark wooden houses, fantastically carved, centuries old. Horses, donkeys, goats and chickens living in the stables beneath the dwellings. Children playing in the streets. Women do their washing in the streams flowing in gutters.
In some ways it was reminiscent of the traditional Swiss Alpine Villages. Only a lot more dirty, with mud and rubbish everywhere, and of course no real roads. Maybe in a generation or so, when the Indians really develop a consciousness about rubbish and pollution then villages like this will be truly aesthetically stunning.
I stumbled up through the houses, looking for a Chai house, or store. Eventually, at the top, there were a couple of guesthouses, and I collapsed there, and drank a litre of water and a bottle of coke whilst Gimbal ferreted round in the rubbish looking for food.
After about half an hour, Riko still no where in sight, I clambered up the last few feet to the top of the hill. The valley spread before me, and I could see the dam, road and vehicles far far below, as tiny as if they were designed for ants.
Up the valley, the clouds were darkening. It looked ominous. A lightning bolt, a peal of thunder, but the guesthouse boy said he didn't think it would rain here.
But as Riko appeared and gasped his way to the Guesthouse, the wind whipped up out of nowhere and first drops started. As soon as he recovered, we headed back down. We didn't see the temple, but for me, being at the top of the hill and paying my respects there, in my own way, was more meaningful.
Gimbal skipped ahead of us, happy to be on the way back. Amazingly, the expected downpour didn't happen. A few spots now and again, but nothing that would make it uncomfortable.
Going down was a lot easier in some ways, but a lot more wearing on the knees. We reached the bridge in half the time it took to climb, but our legs were jelly, and we walked like scarecrows down to the Police Checkpoint and Carmen.
Ok, stop here if you cannot bear sad stories.
About 100m shy of the Police station, four dogs came running towards us. They immediately started growling and baring their fangs at Gimbal. She snarled and yelped as they closed in on her and there was a bit of a scuffle. They seemed to want to drive her away from us, but she loyally followed us even though it meant a few nips from the other dogs and a lot of aggression.
The dogs surrounded Riko and I. It seemed as though they were very hungry and thought we might have food. They didn't threaten us exactly, but wouldn't leave us alone.
Gimbal tried to come to help, but suddenly the dogs, as one, turned on here. There was a snarling melee of fur and fangs as they started attacking her. A horrible noise, whining and yelping as they bit at her.
I couldn't stand by as our guide and companion of the last few hours be torn to pieces, so I roared and shouted and snarled at the dogs, genuinely angry. I picked up a stone, and tried to kick them off her.
The pack whimpered, backed down and retreated. Gimbal limped back to be with us and followed us down the road. The dogs didn't attack again, but followed at a distance, despite repeated attempts to scare them off.
We got to the Police station and rested for awhile, looking into the dam. Gimbal came and lay down beside us, exhausted. The four dogs of the pack lay down watchfully about 30 metres away, their heads tracking our every move.
This was the point that Gimbal could follow us no more. She couldn't get on the bike and come with us. Riko and I talked over what we could do, but eventually came to the only conclusion possible. We couldn't save her. She would have to face the dogs by herself.
I felt shit beyond belief at having to leave her. Utterly awful.
I went to say goodbye to her and she looked up at me. That look could have been a plea to save her, to take her with us, but it felt more like an acceptance of her fate and gratitude that she had spent her last day with someone who had cared for her.
As we got on Carmen and drove off back to our nice meals and comfy beds, the 2 smaller dogs followed us. Perhaps still hopeful of some food, perhaps making sure we didn't come back. In the wing mirror, I saw the other 2 dogs race towards Gimbal. And then we were round the corner and out of sight.
Strangely I didn't feel bad. Gimbal has looked up at me with no blame, and an acceptance of her fate, that her time had come. It was sad, and horrible, but it is also how life out here really is. It is wonderful, and beautiful, and full of adventure, but it is also wild and dangerous and deadly too. Life is hard and brutal for people as well as animals here. No wonder people are so little worried about rubbish when it is sometimes a battle to stay alive. I felt myself accepting that that is how life is, and being happier for it.
And in my heart, I hope that Gimbal escaped, and found her way back to her home, wherever that may be. In this world or the next.
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