October 2025
Hello,
This is my 3rd monthly update, IN A ROW, and I am happy.
This update has been written bit by bit over November, December, and January. I'd returned to work in November, after 2 months off. So I told myself that I needed to lower my expectations of this update. The idea was to keep it light and easy.
What felt easier was to just write a blurb about each and every day, rather than try to pick out particular days and memories and place them into an overarching theme. There is no overarching theme. This is just some things that happened in October.
For each October day I've written a blurb and selected 1 photo, which was a fun constraint. The photo generally relates to the day's blurb in some way.
Previous updates: Visit India, see how it goes August 2025 September 2025
My update for the month
Wednesday, October 1st: Village of Koksar to camp with shepherds (in Himachal Pradesh)
We left the main road that leads to Manali, turning onto the Spiti Valley road. Deciding to cycle through here had been a fairly significant decision, but the moment of leaving the highway was underwhelming, except that the tar ended and we now had rough gravel ahead of us. The proprietor of dhaba where we had lunch, in Chaatru, said it had been a bad season financially on account of the floods as well as the murders in Kashmir. Fewer tourists were coming, even to Himachal Pradesh. As the day carried on it became clear we were not going to reach the next settlement. We went into reconnaissance mode, surveying the landscape for ideas on where to wild camp. The going was slow and tiring. We were about to have even greater challenges because in the distance the road wended along a cliff. Just then, Bell spotted smoke in the distance coming from large boulders between the road and the river. I walked over and asked the shepherd tending the fire if we could camp, and he didn't say no but I'm not sure he understood what I was asking, fair enough. He was camping in his way, we were going to camp in our way, so I figured showing rather than telling might work. We set up our tent, and the landscape surrounded us with boulders and uneven ground. This setting, combined with the sky and mountains made it feel positively magical when more and more sheep and goats would emerge from behind boulders as they made their way to the camp. We had no idea what was going on. After a time there were 4 shepherds in total, and many many animals, even horses prancing around. One of the shepherds looked like Tom Allen. A baby goat decided our tent was a rock and persisted in trying to climb it, which was very cute until it was annoying. There was a spokesperson from the shepherd contingent who had big beautiful eyes and an unnerving stare. Where were these shepherds going to sleep? But sleep they did, in the shelter of some tarp near their little fire cove beside a big boulder. The tiniest of the kids and ewes were kept with them which I imagine was a mutually beneficial arrangement, for warmth. The rest of the animals just bedded down wherever. We had a cold night. My sleeping bag didn't zip up properly and Bell's mattress had a valve leak. And besides that, it was just cold.
Thursday 2nd: Camp with shepherds to Batal, a settlement below Kunzum La Pass
In the photo below you can see what I mean that one of the shepherds looked like Tom Allen. Three of the shepherds left before us, walking the way we had came. This morning I brushed my teeth while waiting in line with a few cars, while 3 excavators cleared debris from some casual morning blasting on the road. We carried on along the river. We were lucky to remember to periodically look back, because once you had a clear line of sight up the side valleys, there was the opportunity to see the glaciers at the tops of many of them. An incredible sight. We rode into Batal, which is a seasonal settlement at the base of the Kunzum La Pass. We ended the day at 1 pm, because the pass would take us most of the day. In Batal you can choose to sleep inside the dhabas in a communal dorm setup, or you can try for a room at the Public Works Department Rest House. We got a room at the latter, and then spent the entire afternoon at the dhaba where we had cookies, tea, coffee, paratha. I kept a list of these little purchases because otherwise I would forget. At one point the Rest House caretaker came into the dhaba, accompanied by a man who said we needed to leave our room because he had a group with an online reservation. This may have been true, in which case we technically would have had to vacate. But the reservation was not shown to us, and we entered a war of attrition. He also said to us "you have a tent, so go sleep in your tent." Exasperated, the man left, and we never saw him nor his group again. Then a large military convoy took over the whole Rest House, setting up many small tents in the yard, and camping fires, and also cordoning off the kitchen and bathroom inside the Rest House, and parking many big military vehicles inside the yard. Interestingly, they did not kick us out even though we were now civilians in the military area. This was also unexpected. So we got to keep our room, but because of the bathroom takeover we had to go pee outside wherever we could find a place.
Friday 3rd: Batal, over Kunzum La Pass, down to Lohsar
We leave early to take on the Kunzum La Pass. We are using our microbreaks strategy that I shared in last month's update. Bell is not doing well at all. Once there is sun on the pass, we stop to soak it in and to stabilize Bell. Then it's 13 switchbacks to go. We get to the top, put on a lot of clothes, and start descending pretty much immediately, only seeing the chortens and prayer flags at a distance from the road. The descent feels even steeper and rougher than the ascent. We are then into the Spiti Valley with yaks and trees with yellow leaves, and red streaked mountains. Getting over Kunzum La before any late-season snowfall was a big deal for us, because once the snow comes at this time of year (in October), the pass would then close permanently. So we have crossed through the gate to Spiti. We make it to Lohsar, but we have not planned ahead, and most accommodation is full. A woman offers us a space in her yard to camp for 1,000 rupees (almost $20 Canadian), and I speak with a homestay owner whose clientele book months in advance for their scenic autumn Spiti homestay experience. I secure us a room that smells like cigarettes from a man that smells like cigarettes, and we sleep in separate beds with many heavy blankets.
Saturday 4th: Lohsar to Kaza
The ride from Lohsar to Kaza is incredible. Marvelous. Superb. How to describe it without vague adjectives? Dry, bright, quiet, the crumbly mountains succumbing to erosion in very real time and forming hoodoos and symmetrical alluvial fans. You can see the picture below. We have found tar again. We have found tailwind. Later we realize that by choosing tar we've left the "Spiti Circuit," missing the chance to ride by Kee Monastery, but let's be real if we'd ridden by it then I'd probably have tried to guilt myself into stopping and visiting. We have cycled by other monasteries and not visited, so would the circuit have been any different? My perceived failure as a conventional tourist is a source of anguish and ambivalence to me. I have to get myself pep talks about how I am seeing things just other things, like ripped open paan packets and beedies along the roadside, which by now I am expert in. I am also expert in what animals in a particular region tend to end up as roadkill, and also subtleties in the road quality which I will not bore you with. We reach Kaza and head for the old town. I am not well and I remember this because it's Bell's job to find accommodation. We usually do a combination effort, whereby one of us goes first, then the other goes into the 2nd place, then the other for the 3rd, and so on. Incredibly, Bell finds us a place on their first try and it's a place with a big chalkboard at street level from the bookshop and cafe across the road, the chalkboard has Free Palestine and other similar things on it, and when I arrive at the guesthouse this is the first thing I notice and I assume Bell has chosen this place because of it, but no, they haven't even seen the chalkboard. Which is a long way of saying that we ended up staying across the road from the resident leftie bookshop and coffee house. Kaza is not a big place and I was surprised to find this here. We are now in Kaza waiting out the upcoming snowfall. We have another pass to get over after Kaza, but this one will be cleared after snowfall because it connects Kaza to the rest of India. Bell had somehow missed the next pass on their reconnaisance of the map and is kind of devastated to learn of it because their health and asthma is not great, especially not in the cold high dry dusty air.
Sunday 5th: Kaza
I'd envisaged this monthly update as being one picture and one sentence per day. My feet were so cold in Kaza. Here is a picture of a coffee shop that kept the doors open all day, which I loved but that my feet suffered from.
Monday 6th: Kaza
Tourists need permits to visit anywhere within a set distance from the Chinese border. So we need a permit to get past Kaza. We go to the permit office and joust for position with the other tourists filling the office. Then we go to Demzor Hotel which is a place that makes me feel a deep inspiration and joy and envy because Karanbir has made it into a projection of his brain and philosophy and his travels. Over momo and black lentil dahl we soak in the space and then I break a vase, and blush, everyone sees and hears, and then I knock something over on the table we're sitting at, and Karanbir makes a joke about it and that somehow makes it better.
Tuesday 7th: Kaza
Very cold feet.
(no image)
Wednesday 8th: Kaza
There is a sweet shop that sells jalebi and samosas, I take Bell here because it's a cozy spot but the smoke and smells aggravate her chest so she leaves. By now we have visited the Pilgrim Pages Bookshop a few times, I have purchased books and roasted barley coffee and carrot cake and a vial of seabuckthorn juice that is accidentally fermented. We have had great chats with Raj, and I take us there to say goodbye.
Thursday 9th: Kaza to not far past Kaza, then onto Poh
We depart Kaza. Where the old town road meets the main road we see a hitchhiker, Erin, in pants I envy. I have not learned yet how unpredictable a day can be, so I feel confident we will see Erin again at the village we intend to get to, 40 km down the road. We make it 14km past Kaza and Bell stops us. The riding has been easy and trending downhill, and yet their chest and asthma are causing anxiety and discomfort. We stop and turn around to sit in a small restaurant to decide what to do. Matt comes rolling through so we invite him to join us for lunch and he introduces us to veg chowmein. Then afterward Bell decides that they will find a ride over the pass and down to the next big town. I have a big decision to make. I vacillate and eventually decide that I'll ride by myself. We repack as best we can and eventually, the father of the teenager who served us lunch drives Bell back to Kaza. I am very suddenly on my own and it's quiet and a bit intense, in that I am entirely responsible for myself. I come to appreciate the solitude, and there's a brief period where I want to ride into the night, reminded of the empowering anonymity of doing so in Turkey so many years ago. But I have neither a headlamp nor a tent, so this is a bad idea. Darkness is already chasing me by the time I roll into the next village, so I find a homestay which is actually very fancy and I have an amazing shower and sleep in a huge comfy bed with a real mattress.
Friday 10th: Poh and Chango
I depart towards Chango. I have confused Bell by texting them that I'm in Pooh, not Poh (Pooh is later), but we figure it out. We've been suddenly separated and I don't have reliable reception, and in the morning I'm hoping that I haven't gotten up so late as so to miss the HRTC (Himachal Region Transport Corporation) bus carrying Bell from Kaza towards Reckon Peo. I do see them rounding a bend behind me, and I can see Bell and I wave. I see a guy on a bicycle that looks to have no gears, he really wants me to film him, he's travelling all over India and has a laminated placard advertising this, he is probably completely harmless but I'm adjusting to being alone and I'm extra cautious and I am getting some kind of overeager slightly off vibes from him so I carry on even though I feel bad, because how often do you see someone, let alone a resident of said country, also on a big bike trip? I go through a police check for my permit and the officer knows already who I am, because Bell and I have a joint permit and Bell's was checked when the bus went through. The police officer gifts me apples from the ongoing apple harvest. These days I am getting so many apples as gifts, I treasure this. I enter the next village and three young boys hold my handlebars and are giggling and demanding rupees, they're really young like five to seven but there's three of them and they're very persistent, and it goes on for a long time and I'm dragging my bicycle forward and trying to be patient and persistent. It is like dragging the bike through thick mud. I get to another police check, there is Erin, who didn't know she needed a permit. She is hitchhiking so maybe that's why she made it through the earlier check, but here a permit is being arranged via WhatsApp. She is waiting. At the village where I'd thought we would meet yesterday, she stayed at the monastery dormitory, and then at 8 pm a man who was also staying in the dormitory masturbated while looking at her, so she went to a monastic in charge to complain, and he laughed it off and she was the one that had to pay for a private room rather than stay in the dorm. We chat for a while she does very interesting work and I appreciate that she is not a single-cause person, she says farmed animal welfare is very important too, moneyless economies are not her whole personality. I carry onto Chango where I stay at a guesthouse that is also an orchard, and a crew of men are working very late in the orchard under lights, sorting apples on conveyor belts, and I feel loneliness in my room, because I haven't adjusted to being on my own and also because I am tired and cold.
Saturday 11th: Chango to Mailing, over Nako Pass
I listen to Elisabeth's playlist she made for Bell and I in the morning to amp myself up. I eat two breakfasts. I have many hot drinks. I am ready to hit Nako Pass, after I feed donkeys my apple cores and the donkeys are surrounding my bike and they are truly enormous, I forget how big donkeys can be, and my apple cores definitely don't touch the sides for them. I crush the first 3 hours of the climb, ascend 700 metres, and then I bonk and need to sit. Some sections are so steep that I walk my bicycle very slowly and the cars and trucks who come up also seem to labour intensely. The views up here in the mountains are the kind where it's like too much in one go, you can't take it all in at once. I sit for a while and then walk for a while, and then I'm riding again. Passing a road work crew there's a young child strung up in a hammock and I'm asked if I have medicine for the child, I decline. I reach the top of the pass and start to descend. There's two guys standing beside their motorbikes and one of them makes a video of me as I ride pass, I give dismissive gesture as I do, because by now there's been many pictures and videos without asking first. When this happens I feel objectified. But then on the next switchback the one guy rides past and the second guy slows to ride alongside me, and he apologizes for his friend's behaviour. His apology is so earnest I leave the encounter feeling sad, because I realize that although it's true I've been flattened and objectified, I too have objectified these men by bringing all of my past interactions to bear on this fleeting encounter. I wouldn't have reacted as I did had it been the first time. I think about ways I could have reacted better.
Sunday 12th: Rest day Nako / Mailing
I am in Mailing, a tiny village down the road from Nako, a bigger village with a monastery that is over 1,000 years old. It's my rest day and I motivate myself to walk to Nako where I circambulate the lake and follow some ladies through the older part of the village where I see a horseshoe embedded into one house's threshold. A monastic with adolescent acne takes me through the gompa and gives me an empassioned explanation of non-attachment. Love leads to pain so he tries not to love anyone too much. In the evening there's a big celebration down the road in Mailing and I walk over there at dusk and am invited inside the dancing space. I feel shy so I hang out at the edges.
Monday 13th: Mailing to Pooh
I'm getting read to head out, but the Grandmother of the guesthouse owners has appeared and she insists I eat something for breakfast, so she gives me an amazing fried bread and some tea. Then we do a photoshoot. Then her, and also a member of staff from Bihar, give me apples and see me on my way. I have a huge descent today. At lunchtime I stop to talk with a roadcrew, and a woman gives me half an apple and we chat about her work and life. I see a 3-generation pack of emaciated dogs at an abandoned worksite. If you don't give the animals anything you feel terrible, if you do give them something like a pack of biscuits then you feel bad at how little it is, and also biscuits aren't great for dogs, although that doesn't feel super relevant given the circumstances. They won't eat my vegetable scraps.
Tuesday 14th: Pooh to Ranccho Cafe
By now Bell has left Reckon Peo and is in Rampur Bashur so that's where I'm headed. I'm enjoying my alone time. I see pinecones the size of my feet and write "Hello World" on a piece of garbage cardboard beside the road, wondering if anyone will ever see it. I don't really have plans for where to stay tonight, and a place I ask at is "full," although there are many keys on the hooks behind the manager. He tells me there is a place 20km on. It is about this far when I come to Ranccho Cafe, which I have seen might offer rooms because on Google Maps I saw a picture of its sign and it said "stay." Indeed they have a room upstairs, but it doesn't have running water right now so I can pay what I want. The carpet in this room is astroturf and the chairs are rattan and the setting is beside a vigorous river, this is amazing for me. I drink a whole big bottle of homemade apple juice from the apple harvest and read the 2nd half of a paperback of Annapurna by Maurice Herzog, which is gripping and is less drearily racist than I'd have guessed it would be. But I guess I'd have to ask the Nepalis. Go ask the Nepalis. One word about the extensive descriptions of frostbite: maggots.
Wednesday 15th: Ranccho Cafe to Rampur
It's my last day solo, it has been a week. I do not commit to Bell that I'll arrive today, because who knows what will happen and also, do I want to wrap it up today or do I want one more day? I wanted to write, but I spent all my time reading about men conquering mountains and learning to cry last night, and I am behind on my journalling. Imagine lush forests and tall cliffs the colours of all the colours in birdshit, and now imagine a road has been carved out of the middle of the cliffside, that is what it is like here, and it is amazing. But less scary than on a bus, because I am closer to the ground and if I fall off my bike I won't for certain go over the side. In a shop where I stop for snacks, there is a goldfish in a bowl. At a dumpster, there is a big pig that has shoved its nose through a rag that had a hole in it, and now the rag is flopping on its snout and the pig is not in danger but clearly does not like the situation. I spend some time walking around in the absolute mess around the dumpster, trying to coax the pig over to me so I can free the cloth. The pig is having none of it. I felt self-conscious, righteous, sad, and bemused all at once, especially when a woman in an immaculate lavender sari walked past and held her breath as she passed the dumpster. I decide to get to Rampur, and it is in the walking-only cobblestone market street where Bell and I see each other again. It's halfway through the month.
Thursday 16th: Rampur
Our friend at Hotel Baghwati who oozes charisma walks us around town in search of laundry, but the place he knows of is so busy with Diwali-related drycleaning that they won't do our laundry. We start washing clothes in our room and give up on laundry services in-town on this trip, which is the right call.
Friday 17th: Rampur
I am redacting a day on purpose in order to get exposure therapy to the imperfection of not writing about every single day.
Saturday 18th: Rampur
It is Diwali mania. I think at the time: it's because we are in Rampur, built up along both steep riversides and bustling, that we are experiencing such an intensity of shopping and people and colour. But I think that's just moreso India, rather than Rampur in particular. There are many flower garlands, sweets, decorations, and fireworks for sale. Pots you could bathe an adult in, and all manner of kitchenware. The jewelery shops are nearly standing room only. We are middle aged and so boring, going to the chemist for multivitamins, going to bed at nine, trying to learn to cook dinner again. The children light fireworks on the street and it's a bit scary because what if they hit you in the face?
Sunday 19th: Rampur
Rampur is where we work up the guts to figure out the deal with the Indian sweet shop. An institution in this land. There is one near our hotel with a Brahmin dude who wakes up at 5:30 am every morning so that he has time for puja and family time before walking to work. His father ran this shop, he is framed in a photograph on the wall. Rampur is losing its culture, the western ways are corrupting the youth, and alcohol is a menace for boys and girls alike. He wants the old ways. The variety of sweets that he has is bigger than other shops and he sells me five different types that are vegan. They are definitely not the best or most popular sweets, but they do tend to be cheaper, and as I love sweets I love these too. We are out of petrol for the stove, I walk to get it at dusk, it's longer than I thought and I am a little uneasy. I'm rewarded for my efforts with a return walk along the main road hustle and bustle after dark, with neon lights and people eating fast food like momos and waiting for their bus, or hanging out with friends or kin, but friends can be kin too right? I like the broad sense of the word kin. I get that liberatory sense of anonymity I was seeking earlier in the month while cycling. There are fireworks at night long after we (try to) go to sleep.
Monday 20th: Rampur
At one point there is a small bush fire that erupts across the river from us because of the fireworks. We talk to ChatGPT and learn about the fatalities and toxic air pollution arising from fireworks. It is true that anywhere in India would be fantastic during Diwali, except if you are an animal, in which it would be even scarier than normal. But the thing about Rampur is that it has good acoustics, being nestled in a mountain river valley. And I suppose it's true too that it's wealthy, and that this makes the market area more crowded and active in a way that is comfortable. Would rural Jharkhand have so many packed jewelery shops this week? I had given our charismatic man friend at the hotel some sweets, and today he's given us a box of Royal Laddu delights, because he knows we want something vegan. I feel we are a bit more a part of Diwali. The staff have a party that night, they're hungover the next day and I feel happy at this.
Tuesday 21st: Rampur. Last day, leaving tomorrow
I am getting provisions. Bell is motivating us to take care of our nutrition. I pound the pavement comparing prices on stale almonds which are fine and stale walnuts which punish you more for their age with their bitter taste. I make great bike travel meusli. Bell's extended her work contract and is feeling a pleasant clarity and stability.
Wednesday 22nd: Rampur to Taklech
Departed Rampur. Pulled into a big wedding for dancing, food, and an awkward photoshoot. Then saw the kindest women from the wedding a few hours later down the road. They're friends, we're friends, they're women we're women. I am besotted with the vests of these particular Himachali folks. We stay in Taklech, a village that is among the friendliest of the trip.
Thursday 23rd: Taklech to Bahli
In Taklech overnight there was scampering from the ceiling and because the place was in a general state of disarray I assumed it was a rat, so LOL when I learned the next morning it was the family's corgi which had a name like cookie or biscuit, can't remember. We equip ourselves with a kilogram of mithai from the sweetshop, the woman has two kids that are all grown up, one's a doctor one's a chiropractor, so I say congratulations and I mean it. We have a big climb on a tertiary road, which means we are already on a secondary road and we leave it. We are in the jungle at the bottom, and we climb to cool, to more pine trees and maybe oak trees, to more distant views and to different birds with very long tails. We stay at the Himachal Pradesh Public Works Department Forest Rest House in Bahli and then it starts to rain. This is very memorable because it has barely rained on our trip at all, and we are happy to be inside.
Friday 24th: Bahli to Rohru
There are kids walking to school along very quiet forest roads and I wonder how safe it is for them to do so. It feels like there has not been a single bit of flat road in Himachal Pradesh. Outside of villages we see vast stretches of woven sacks of rotting apples, not even the cows and goats are interested, just the wasps. The man in the photo below tells us it is because for whatever reason, these apples could not fetch a high enough sell price for the growers to pay for the packaging and processing and transport, so they become useless and left to rot.
Saturday 25th: Rohru (Himachal Pradesh) to Tyuni (Uttarakhand)
I ask people's names, they tell me their names and I just really struggle to know how to spell them, I'm not used to the names and the pronounciation, and ditto for them. We ride into Uttarakhand, and one of my disc brakes stops working. We ride gently downhill along a beautiful blue river with big stones, past banana trees and colourful houses, and a range of perceived socioeconomic statuses of the villages. Tyuni is a little intimidating because we get some attention, but once the shopkeeper who is also the owner of the guesthouse directs us to the best place for veg thali, I feel comfortable. This room is the best room of the whole trip so far, I ask three times to be sure I've heard the price correctly, a riverside room with old wooden finishings and a big bed is 500 rupees, half or a third or even a quarter of what I'd expect it to be.
Sunday 26th: Tyuni
We are resting in Tyuni, and I'm asking around for where I can find a tunic that's looser and longer for me to wear so Bell can take over the pictured red shortsleeve tunic for her cycling attire. The girls in the photo take me shop to shop while I am picky, only eventually settling on the raspberry tunic you'll see in future photos. Thanks gals!
Monday 27th: Tyuni to Munto's Family
We are leaving Tyuni, and we stock up on mithaii from Tashi's place, he gives us apples from his family's orchard and his father continues to look like a total don't-give-a-fuck badass in his pyjamas. We are riding through pine forests and see solar farm installations. We are passing through the junction near Mori, we are climbing past monkeys, we are seeing golden orb spiders for the first time and are assuming they are as poisonous as they are colourful, which is wrong. We're asking for a guesthouse and not finding one. We're climbing to a tiny village with just a few houses. Munto's mum waves at Bell, "chai pani" and I don't see that but I see Munto waving me over. They have a beautiful house with wraparound balcony and shiny paint on all the walls. We get to chat for hours with Munto, before we eat dinner in our room and there is a puja for Munto. Also we see a golden jackal. Munto says that he knows everyone in all the villages around, we look out onto them because now the lights are on. Here are some of the things we tried, we tried pithli (I think maybe this was leftover from Diwali but I am not sure. I will say to you that this is pumpkin but you will get the wrong idea, because this is a bright white incredibly sweet dessert item that is hard on the outside and like a soft jelly on the inside that melts in your mouth.)
Tuesday 28th: Munto's to M.D.R.S.
The breathtaking hospitality continued. The agenda for the morning ended up being the following: wake up, have tea, group photos, Munto and his father rush to the bus to Dehradun, priest has stayed over and leaves after, breakfast with Munto's brother, mom, maybe cousin in the family kitchen, then Munto's mom's brother's wife arrives, with another woman, and then Munto's mom's brother comes. We sit outside the kitchen in a circle in plastic chairs while there is a hearty conversation about probably us, among other things. Then group photos. The woman accompanying Munto's mom's sister in law had a brilliant smile and she helped me push my loaded bike back up the steep path to the road, where we continued to climb to the top of the hill, where there was a big statue of Hanuman with muscles bursting out of his legs and arms. We stayed a random place on the side of the road with a beautiful view, that is a guesthouse and also a place where they sell organic produce like beans and different fruit squashes, which are strong concentrated juices.
Wednesday 29th: M.D.R.S. to Damta
How many times will I trick myself into expecting easy riding when a road is contouring along a steep river valley? Stop doing this. Hard riding. Insight of the day was that there has been no road in India where you can say straightforwardly that it is paved or not paved. Every road is a buffet of all of the above. A surprise around every bend. Practicing my boundaries tonight by insisting on getting a key for our room. My insistence did not yield a key, but the problem was solved by ordering thali to the room. And it is important to practice one's boundaries even if they aren't honoured.
Thursday 30th: Damta to Kemte Falls
Am I writing too much about the 5 pm to 9 am of this trip (staying) rather than the 9 am to 5 pm (the riding)? That's the thought I have right now. But our room overlooked a school with a large open dirt field. Gradually the kids entered and played while waiting for class. Boys played volleyball, and there was for a while a single girl who stood watching them. I hope if that girl wants to play volleyball she can play it. Bell and I had a big fight in the afternoon, and then gradually reconciled as we climbed up and up and up towards Kemte Falls, where there is a waterpark, a waterfall, souvenier shops, a multi-level parking garage, and packs of dogs competitive over food scraps.
Friday 31st: Kemte Falls to Dehradun
Climbed from Kemte Falls to a cloudy Mussorie. I had an incredible oat coffee from Starbucks. We then descended to Dehradun to search for accommodation for my first week back at work with Hive after taking September and October off. It was much harder than expected to find a place. Eventually we settled in at the Cozy Nest Homestay, which I have renamed to the Dehradun Party Palace.
Reflection
In October I let go of expectations for this trip. I did more than survive in an unplanned week's solo trip. We heard and smelled Diwali, figured out how to get vegan sweets, started to cook again, dropped down to lower elevations, and thoroughly enjoyed Uttarakhand, where we are still now a month later. The best things I ate were besan barfi and a pumpkin-veggie mash. I am like a cow, moving these experiences from my first to my second stomach. I am taking more time to digest, which means less is coming in in the first place. It takes time to digest things. But I am thinking of what I am in reading in How To Do Nothing, how "the practice of doing nothing has something broader to offer us: an antidote to the rhetoric of growth. In the context of health and ecology, things that grow unchecked are often considered parasitic or cancerous. Yet we inhabit a culture that privileges novelty and growth over the cyclical and regenerative. Our very idea of productivity is premised on the idea of producing something new, whereas we do not tend to see maintenance and care as productive in the same way."
Links this month
No links this month. This update is long enough as it is.