Family Goodbyes, Long journey and Rivendell

Suzy had told me of a magical place, Raju's homestay, in the Kullu Valley. Although this was a long days drive, I decided in the night that this was where I was going to head to. Although I had a list as long of your arm of different temples and towers 'I just HAD to see', I was there more for the journey through nature.

The goodbyes were surprisingly hard. In less than 48 hours, I had got close to a number of people. There was the Chokeedah, Suzy's guide, driver and cook. They had taken me in, fed me, and helped with all manner of things. Often tough and stern looking to begin with, it hid a real warmth underneath.

Then there was the children from the store opposite, Preety, Surej and Rittu. They were waiting for us when we got up both mornings, were there waiting for us when we got back in the evenings. They bought us treats of fresh lasso and apples. They wanted to just hang round the ferenghis. They were no different from kids back home really - the oldest Preety was shy and tried to be grown up, Surej was a bit awkward but absolutely fascinated by technology and soon mastered my Iphone far better than me. Rittu always wanted to be the centre of attention, and performed like a little primadonna. Their parents were proud and friendly and were more than happy for them to come and play with us.

And then Suzy, who had helped me so much in so many different ways. But her entourage was leaving as well, so it was heavy heart and a belly stuffed with parathas and omelette that I climbed onto Carmen and started off.

I stopped by the Police Station to say I was leaving. They seemed to want me to check into another station later in the day, but I knew that I wouldn't have time to do that. It was a long days drive.

So I drove all day - Rohru, Baggi, Narkanda, Ani, Shoja, Banjar and countless other unnamed little villages.

The roads were varied. Sometimes on National Highway, sometimes on dirt track, sometimes on rubble. A few incidents in the day. A man in Rohru petrol station wanted something famous from England from me as a present, I thought I had a petrol leak in Narkanda and was ready to have the tank stripped, but a twist of the fuel tank key stopped it. A man tried to give me some hashish near Tanjubbar lake. A man gave me an apple near Khadrala. Normal everyday stuff in India.

4pm found me on the road to the Jelori pass. It was getting late, there looked to be rainclouds in the sky, and I had a long way to go, so I pushed it as quick as I could. Skidded on some sand and almost came off. Narrowly missed a bus on a corner, and after fording a calf length stream almost rammed a stone wall, but the river gorge beneath was absolutely fabulous. As Joey had said, a perfect drive.

At the 3200m high pass I stopped and had some chai at a very old looking tea house served some equally venerable looking mountain people.

A tourist taxi pulled up and disgorged a group of Indians with cameras. Two of them came to talk to me, and chatted for awhile. They were from Bengal, on their way to Manali. They wanted to know all manner of odd things, such as did I know the 1913 Bengali nobel prizewinner. And what did I think of the Himachal trees. They didn't want to stop talking, but I had to press on. It was 5pm now and started getting dark. Fortunately the rain had held off.

It took another 2 hours to get to Rajus. The last hour was fully in the dark. I was really tired by now - 10 hours driving through windy roads with only three 10 minute stops.

Without the help of a truck driver I would never have got here - he led me to a featureless bank of the river and made me stop. He hollered over the river, a light came on and there was an answering cry and then a strange whirring noise, like a curtain being closed.

A few minutes later, Varun, Rajus son, was there to help me with my luggage. He led me down to the river bank and loaded my bags into an iron casket. 'Stay here, and when the trolley comes back, get in'. And then he and my bags were whizzing away over the river. A few minutes later I was going over too - the river roaring over rocks beneath me.

It was dark, but I could make out the wooden house in a deserted wooded valley. I was led up some stairs to what felt like a treehouse. Wonky wooden floors, rooms with connecting doors. It felt magical.

I washed and changed and then a sumptuous banquet was bought to me.

There was a roaring fire outside, and then on cue, the almost full moon appeared at the head of the valley. The clouds lit up silver and looked like smoke billowing down from the mountains. The valley was bathed in the ghostly light. It felt so peaceful and beautiful. It felt like I had arrived in Rivendell.