6pm found me at a Police outpost, past Chirgeon, in the remote and little visited Pabbar Valley. I was surrounded by fierce and uncommunicative officers, all scrutinising my passport, and occasionally barking questions at me such as 'permanent address' or 'fathers occupation'. I sat with a fixed grin, hoping that it would turn out all right.
But I will explain why I was there and what happened next in due course.
I left Shimla at 10am, planning to return 6 days later to meet Dan. My destination was Rohru, a place Joey described as 'Beeyoutiful, and you will have the place to yourself'. He looked thoughtful and said 'you know there are two routes there. One everybody goes on, and a back way. Much harder. Why don't you try that'. So of course I did.
For the first hour or so the route was the same as 2 days previously when I went to Chail. East out of Shimla, but instead of turning south, keep heading East. I crossed a pass, and there in the distance were the snow covered peaks of the Himalayas proper. When I saw them my heart really did leap - all the fear and anxiety of coming away melted, and I felt such joy at having the freedom to roam around this place. The road was wide, and I had it to myself.
Just past Theog, I started going down hill. Down and down and down. For miles it seemed I descended till felt like I had gone down to sea level.
There was a river here, and water on the road. I realised that this was the first time I had seen running water in Himachal Pradesh. There seems to be a shortage which is rare in mountains.
It spilled on the road, and turned the dusty surface to an oily, inky black. The village at the bottom, Chaila, looked like the scene of an oil tanker accident. I splashed my way through black puddles trying not to get my clothiers dirty.
As the road started to rise, it also started to deteriorate. Smooth tarmac had been patchy but mostly the norm, but not now. Rocks, sand, gravel, dust, potholes, bumps, landfalls, collapses. Each different surface having a different affect on the bike, each requiring a different driving tactic. All requiring intense concentration.
I juddered and jolted my way up the valley, my speed dropped from about 40km to about 20. Every 10 minutes or so, I would have to overtake a bus or a lorry, or a 4x4, or get enveloped in the dirty fumes that they belched out and then covered in the dust they kicked up.
This was not so much driving as battling the road. And it was not just a bout of 3 rounds of 3 minutes, but over 50km of body sapping, mind numbing attrition.
And I won. I came out the other side, back onto a tarmacced road. But not without casualties. If not quite a pyrric victory, then at a cost.
Firstly my Iphone. After about and hour I had stopped for a break, and it had just frozen. Nothing was responding. I could not even turn it off, nothing was working. After my kindle breaking, this was my only link to the internet and communication home. Not only that but it was how I was writing my log, it was my camera and my library too. Not being able to do anything about it, I stowed it away, and tried to put it at the back of my mind. But inside it was eating away at me.
And this led to the second casualty - my enjoyment, my resolve to be here, doing what I was doing. The elation that I had felt earlier, was being battered out of me. I started to ask myself questions - Was this was what it was going to be like all the time? Just one long hard battle with the road? Did I really want to be here, to do this? What was I doing?
Over the top of another hill, and then down into the next valley the road stayed bad. I wondered if it would ever get better.
But eventually, at a town called Jubbal, the road smoothed out again. There was still a good 30km to get to Rohru and the shadows were lengthening into late afternoon, but the driving started being fun again.
The road followed a long almost dry riverbed, and I realised that I was on the outskirts of my destination. I hadn't got anywhere particular to stay, so I was keeping a good lookout for somewhere to stay. My shoulders by this time were aching from the tensions of so much hard driving.
I really didn't fancy any of the hotels in the noisy and dirty town, and I remember Joes saying head up the river valley. So I did, but there were fewer and fewer houses. I really started wondering if there would be anywhere to stay.
But something was pulling me further - a hunch that there was something good up ahead, even thought there were few signs that there would be. I stopped a couple of times and asked people, and they shouted yes, yes, Gasthouse ahead but it didn't look good.
I passed Chirgeon, the last town on the map. Still no hotel or guest house. I stopped in another hamlet, they shouted 'gasthouse, yes, yes, ahead'. There was a hospital, and then just passed it, a signpost saying Government Lodge, not a hotel or guesthouse at all. The sun was now touching the horizon and I was desperate so I pulled in.
The parking wallah, asked if I had a reservation, and when I said no, he shook his head. 'No stay here'. he said. I shook my head, 'Where?' I asked. He took advice from someone else, they too said 'no reservation, no stay here'. But I stayed put. He scratched his head and said Chokeedah coming'.
Just then, there was a commotion up the road, and suddenly goats started streaming past the entrance. Hundreds and hundreds of them being bought down by shepherds. I watched, waiting for the Chokeedah, whoever that was.
At the end of the herd was a tourist taxi, and in the back, a very surprised looking European woman. They reversed in, she got out and came over. She had short greying dark hair, cut almost in a military crop, dyed blond in places. Her face was tanned, with fine but very strong features. Wearing a vest top, with combats and boots, she looked like a grown up Tank Girl, or like Ripley from Aliens. A lady not to be messed with.
She looked me over and then started speaking quickly, her accent marking her out as American. 'Are you English? What are you doing here? You are the first European I have seen in 2 weeks. You know this is a lodge for Government officials? You can only stay here if you are invited. I'm Suzy by the way'.
The manager, or Chokeedah, appeared and a pow wow began. Suzy spoke Hindi asking if I could stay, her guide also spoke for me. The manager looked dubious, would not look at me and shook his head. They implored and importuned him. He shook his head and then spoke rapidly back, still not looking at me.
Suzy's guide said worriedly, 'You must go to the Police station. May be they can write you a permit so you can stay here. But maybe they will not, and maybe there are on holiday'. He didn't sound hopeful.
I got on the back of a bike with the parking wallah. We roared off and almost ran right into the back of the goat herd. Honking and beeping, we parted the sea of livestock like moses. I feared if I fell off I would have been trampled.
So I got the Police station, with the sun just disappearing, at the end of the valley, the sky lit up red. I was ushered in, sat down and scrutinised,
Despite them looking very fierce and shooting questions, I think they actually wanted to help and were pleasantly surprised that a tourist had come here. Eventually they wrote down my details and signed a piece of paper, and apparently I was cleared to stay in the Government lodge.
As we drove back to the lodge, a full moon appeared over the mountains at the back of the valley, the vermillion afterglow of the sun still visible at the mouth of the valley. With the stars appearing in the dark blue above, the smell of the goats and sounds of the valley drifting into the night, it was a magical moment. Fate and luck had bought me to a place that no one comes to, a place of real untouched beauty.
The room in the lodge turned out to be palatial and fitting for a government official. I have a mammoth double bed, a dressing room and a large en-suite. There is a manicured garden and the river at the foot of it is roaring by.
I had dinner with Suzy whose petitioning skills really got me a bed here. It turns out she has a fascinating story, but I will describe my encounter with the enigmatic Susy tomorrow.
When I got back to my room, to my utter delight and amazement. to round the day of with a great bit of good luck, my Iphone had started working again. Not sure why, or what was wrong with it but there we go.
If you are don't believe in magic, skip this paragraph. Just before Rohru, I noticed Carmen's dials had stopped working. The speedo was on zero and the clock stopped on 29750km. It felt as though she had taken the damage for my Iphone as she could tell how distressed I was. I will get her fixed as soon as I can. An amazing bike and companion.
Fate can sometimes be cruel and sometimes be kind. I thought today it was going to be one but turned out to be the other. Rather than robbing me of my spirit (and my Iphone!), it has in fact kissed this journey and bought me to an unexpected and beautiful place.
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