[ringoism]

It actually started many years ago, in late 2008 during a stay at a friend's place in Dharamshala. Having arrived on the old, trusty Kb100, it had rained hard in the afternoon (as is common); and as the storm passed over and the darkened skies began to part, standing on the front porch I was graced with the sight of glorious sunbeams descending to earth in the distance, and reflecting brilliantly off something way down there - an obviously large body of water that I hadn't till then known existed...





The only Himachal "lakes" I'd known of in those days were more the size of natural ponds - Rewalsar, Brighu, Prashar... none more than a few acres and some of these even smaller. And this was clearly something different. Unfolded my excellent Nest & Wings paper map (wish I could still get these), discovered what it was, and in these intervening years the thought had occasionally crossed my mind that it would seem a good place to one day explore.




Well, it only took me a decade and a half to get there!

A reminder came when Delhi biker friends had been up early last year (to ride through the Atal Tunnel to Sissu, of course) and after a couple days decided to return to the plains via a lakeside route along Gobind Sagar, testifying afterwards (also providing photo evidence) that it was one of the prettiest and best riding roads they'd ever been on. So that settled it - we were going to have to get there one way or the other.

We had a lot of lost travel time to make up for this year, having been pretty much stuck here in the valley since the onset of Covid; In truth till the Ladakh trip this August, we hadn't ventured as a family beyond maybe 50km's from home - and even that was rare.

Suddenly, with a 10-day Dusshera school holiday looming and the kids once again free (school is always the problem re: meaningful travel), the idea popped into my head. Took the weekend to wind down / do just a little research, and headed out Monday morning - the first stop being to look at a car for sale in Mandi - as some readers may know and I've mentioned in a couple threads, we've been seeking out something more efficient and with more creature comforts for long travels.

In this case the car was an H.P. plated, Dec. 2015 registered Renault Duster; While the body and paint were quite okay (imperfect but good enough), it truly drove just about like new - It was showing a very average 76,000km's on the meter (10k/annum), clutch and shifter and suspension and steering and on-boost power and A/C and everything else felt good and fresh - so imagine my surprise / bewilderment when I checked with the local service center and was told it'd had done 121k by early 2019, and fully 172k as of this past January!!! The owner is a young Army guy who'd bought it from a private party in HR about a year ago - he seemed quite hapless and about as surprised / bewildered as I was to discover this... a real shame how things are in the used-car realm. Probably still a good vehicle, as it must have driven mostly highway miles and really did feel extremely solid and fit. But still, that extra 100,000km's knocks a lakh off the Orange Book value and asking price, and makes resale a more difficult proposition, being that I'd want to be transparent about it.

So that goal foiled or at least put on hold for the time being, we proceeded to a friend's place up on the mountain above Mandi, where we overnighted / breakfasted, and then headed out late morning towards wherever.

Govind Sagar itself was looking a little out-of-the-way on the map, but I still wanted to see at least a bit of it - so headed out towards its northwestern end, making an effort throughout the trip to travel whatever roads skirted the lake / rivers most closely. GMaps Android version doesn't seem to allow us to drag towards alternate routes, and desktop version has a limit of five stops and puts limits on route alterations - so it was quite a chore figuring all this out, and at points, we just ignored "her majesty" (the electronic navigator lady), and drove where we wanted - sometimes where no roads at all were shown, and she (rather rudely) informed us that we were "lost" (Ha! Never!!!).

At any rate, we had time to spare and were in no big hurry, and moreover had no time to really plan every step properly, so this seemed the best approach: drive leisurely, stop as often as we desired, turn in for the day when the light was waning and we felt we'd had enough, and meanwhile soak in the environment and surroundings as completely as possible - this latter goal made naturally easier by the facts that the venerable Marshal offers us no A/C, and that in early October, altitudes below a couple thousand feet are still plenty warm as to require our windows to be fully open most of the time.

The Shivaliks / Dhauladar hills are SO different in terms of climate, topography, flora/fauna, wildlife, and even ethnicity and culture - compared to what we've been used to nearer the greater Himalayas all these years - my wife found much in the local "biosphere" to compare directly to Mizoram, and wondered at many points how so many edible plants could be growing ignored at roadside, their nutritional value and tastiness quite overlooked... We stopped at many points in uninhabited places to pluck a few leaves or pods and sample their aromas and flavors.





First stop of real note along the way was actually at this food truck - I've eaten at a lot of food trucks on a couple continents the past few decades, but this one tops them all for its self-contained creativity in modification... the food was quite decent too, and the place obviously had a good reputation and drew in a lot of local customers coming by on the highway.


Stomachs filled and moving into mid-afternoon, we continued in the direction of the lake, rejecting GMaps' preferred routes and switching to satellite view (map view often omits roads that may not be visible due to tree cover, etc), simply looking for physical roads / tracks that would get us where we thought we might want to be. And in this case, where we wanted to be was in (yes, in) the water; Well-accustomed to our normal environs at 7,000+ft altitude, now at near a quarter of that height we were all feeling pretty hot and sticky and ready for a swim, which we hoped to find a good spot for.

Caught our first view of Gobind Sagar from alongside the road, where we stopped both for the view and to avail of the ice-cream truck helpfully stationed there.





Continued on after a few minutes' break, descending steeply - when we started getting really close, we came through a little market area and saw fish frying roadside - got a couple of choice pieces wrapped and picked up a fittingly chilled beverage opposite, before turning left onto the little track, not knowing as it diminished quite what we'd find at the end - there was absolutely no indication in writing on any of the GMaps views, just showed a dead end near the lake. It took us first through a very beautiful, lush little area with traditional village homes on either side:



The late afternoon sun was providing a warm cast over all the scenery, and as the little track got narrower and rougher, everything around got prettier, as well.

Before long, we emerged to find our wild guess had been a good one - there was a place there obviously developed as a little tourist/local hang-out spot, with some park benches and a grassy area nestled under a stand of eucalyptus, where quite a lot of long-tailed parrot-like birds were flitting about:





There was actually a motor launch sitting there with a woman whom I assumed to be the pilot seated in it - I figured we could look around a bit and have our refreshments, then go for a boat ride, which the kids were very keen to do. Later we came to discover that it was actually a local ferry service that ended up loaded with many more people and a motorcycle, and would take them over to the other side of the lake. The woman had merely been its earliest-arriving passenger. We missed it, and being late sundown I'm not sure whether it would have been returning till the next day - but it would make a great sunset ride and we'd love to go back and take it once.




On the negative side, we realized there was no way we were going to be able to swim here - not due to the depth or temperature or related safety concerns, but because - as we would unfortunately find again and again during this trip - that probably half Himachal's discarded chappals and other footwear, along with a rather large quantity of waste thermocol, empty drink and water bottles / cartons, etc, etc, had created a highly-polluted "skirt" all around the lake, both floating and left back on surrounding land as the water seasonally recedes.

The grassy ground extending back a hundred or more meters from the waterfront wasn't itself much better - badly littered everywhere. There were two policemen posted on-site as the locals started streaming there around sunset, but that didn't stop one family of four (all adults), who had just exited their car, from throwing a bag of household trash directly in the water before continuing on for their pleasant lakeside sunset walk. It is just insane... And I have yet to figure out the precise mindset here. Some of the chappals at Pong Reservoir (the next day's destination), could have even originated in our village above Manali here, as our local river flows into the same Beas that feeds that lake, and our locals here are wont to throw all manner of household and other trash in the river... I am sure it is the same with too many villages and towns along the Sutlej and its tributaries, which feed this Gobind Sagar - but anyway, it is inexcusable anywhere. Strikingly, it was not ignorant-looking uneducated types or drunks or teenaged idiots or unknowing little children who did this so brashly in this case - but "respectable-looking" adults. So it is evident that a lot of "respectable-looking" people all over this region and even more broadly really are frankly extremely stupid - despite whatever education, not able to appreciate their most beautiful treasures - very clearly to their own detriment in more ways than one, as this water very often feeds their own household domestic supplies... So sad, frustrating, and well - WRONG!!!

[ringoism]

I had planned to continue from this end of Gobind Sagar towards Pong Lake (a.k.a. Maharana Pratap Singh Sagar) via the banks of the river that runs a fair amount of the distance between them... namely, the Beas. I had been along the southern portions of this river someplace else earlier, finding it quite pretty, so was eager to spend some more time there now. As usual we would be seeking out the small riverside village lanes rather than the state roads / highways.

Had checked online for accommodation in the area between the two lakes and it was coming up really slim... it is just not a tourist area it seems (a good thing actually). But there was one AirBnB property in a little place called Dodun Rajputan that had good reviews, and I had already been in touch, so we headed that way.

The sun was down and we were into dusk before leaving the lake, and I don't really like trying to find unknown places in the dark, but there was little choice. When we got near to it, GMaps misled us more than once - eventually showed a long way around which turned out being a steep, loose graveled track, at the top of which what looked like a little housing layout, largely still under construction, emerging from the shadows. At this point the navigation started "freaking out", arrow jumping off the road and showing us going off-road, and suddenly in the wrong direction - when we were still very much on the broader road and hadn't changed direction at all... there was no turn at all where it seemed it might be indicating one, so we reversed, repeated this a couple times with the same result, and finally gave up, going back to the main road to look for a much shorter and I assumed a less preferred/viable track shown as an alternate. This one started from what appeared to be a mere gap in the underbrush at roadside, which we just about squeezed through in the dark. It was narrow, unpaved and unimproved, and didn't get any better as we moved onwards, after a couple turns making a sharp left and heading up a steep gradient, at the end of which we finally spied the lights of a home... we paused there, and within seconds the enthusiastic owner came out and, running ahead, happily directed us into his gate - where his highly friendly and energetic pit-bull, Bingo, greeted us all with real exuberance.

Mr. Sharma is a retired Army engineer and hands-on DIY-type who retired something like a decade ago; during his career he (as is typical) has lived in many parts of India, and henceforth he's been busy working on his organic garden and grove on the ancestral plot, introducing many varieties from across India and the world, which all seem to be doing well. Their property is located in a very quiet, green spot where the crickets lulled us to sleep - we did not hear a vehicle or really any other sound all night in that little hamlet. Mrs. S. is an excellent cook, blending her efforts with his to produce very tasty, healthy, organic meals for guests. Woke up in the morning to our first real views of the surroundings. There was, btw, no sign anywhere around of the gravel track or housing layout we'd been led to the night before:




Nothing dramatic (the AirBnB photos don't seem entirely accurate re: the surroundings), but very pleasant - real rural living.

After breakfast and some time trying (successfully) to fix a fuel tank leak that had begun to manifest the previous day (Mr. Sharma quite happy and even eager to get down on his knees and assist), we got underway. The road exiting didn't look an awful lot easier in daylight than it had in the dark, even in its best portion as depicted below. The night before had been one of those times we felt more secure and assured being in a Jeep - but I wondered how other guests who'd visited in "lesser cars" had felt about it in the past.




Dodun Rajputan is accessed via very narrow hill roads which we were pleased to find were nevertheless quite well-paved and maintained. And these were the sorts of roads that we would be largely following for majority of the next two days.




We weren't far along before we caught glimpses of the Beas - a very different river down here than it is around Manali.





Some readers may remember that it was on the banks of the Beas in these southern districts (the Punjab it could be said) that Alexander's army - after well over a decade of continuous fighting and conquering across the continents - finally refused to go further, to ford one more river, to fight one more battle. As recorded, their intrepid, inexhaustible leader got up the next morning and offered an impassioned, inspired plea to march onwards - that fell on deaf ears, after which that glorious (or inglorious?) fighting force had turned around and began slowly re-orienting its movement towards the direction from whence it had come.

Presumably, some who had little to return to might have abandoned their comrades and Commander right then and there, and wandered off into the lush forests and fields of the lower hills - and others (perhaps those of lofty Malana, if the claims are correct) ventured further upstream and settled in the rich valleys further north. I wonder if anyone knows a more specific spot on the Beas where this turnabout occurred - it would be quite fascinating to stand there and imagine the scene in which history itself made an about-face. India's own history might have developed a bit differently had the Beas not presented such a formidable obstacle to those seasoned soldiers from afar.


Having had our previous attempt at swimming foiled by trash, we had asked our hosts for advice on a better spot somewhere ahead... He had suggested a constructed (concreted), roofed pool at a nearby temple, but we wanted to be out in nature - the kind of swimming our kids are very accustomed to here in our village beyond Manali. Our host was a bit dubious - there have been many well-publicized and tragic drownings on the lakes and probably the river over the years. But we were determined, and less than an hour out, we found our spot, a little "lagoon" beside the river, where there were no currents:




Before we even got in, we noted some quicksand along the edge of the water - something worth being wary of. Went around to the other side where it was rocky, disrobed (mostly :-)) and waded in. The water was lovely - no so frigid as we're used to, and we felt had we been there in May/June, we would probably have wanted to stay in there all day.

We'd been in there awhile, wading and moving around to different parts, when at one point I turned around and saw our younger son's head below the water just a couple feet from me. Something seemed unnatural about it, so I moved towards him, reached out and pulled him up, realizing immediately that his submersion had not been voluntary - in fact, the water was suddenly and shockingly way over my own head, too - I couldn't find footing anywhere!!! Our older (ten-year-old) can tread water, and thank God I myself can swim a bit, and as nobody had as yet actually begun drowning (in the sense of having filled a lung with water), I managed to get ahold of the both of them and push them slowly back towards shallower water. It seemed to take longer than expected as we were in truth so close to shore, but finally we could stand up again. A rather sobering experience, which we emerged from very grateful, feeling that despite whatever carelessness/ foolishness may have been involved in our mis-assessment, we had been saved from Above. From then on, we decided (better late than never) there would be no more swimming in unknown waters till such time as the boys could both swim ably, and/or we could clearly see the bottom of whichever water body. It could have gone very badly, that's for sure; I thank God also that I'd happened to turn around when I did, and seen him going under when he was still visible. A few seconds later, and we could have provided one more tragic story for a hungry media... Phew... Scary.


Dressed again, back in the car and again heading towards our destination of Pong Dam, the by-ways rewarded us with many pleasing scenes:









Wherever we would see the river today (which was often), we could spot fisherman along its banks... and I could have wished I'd brought a rod and reel along, and had the time to try our hands at it - there must be a LOT of fish in there!






Besides the scenes, a great aspect of these small roads was the fact that we were able to run under a shady canopy so much of the way:





If we couldn't swim, then sans A/C, at least we could get plenty of relief from the heat in these beautiful, green "tunnels", something we would not have enjoyed on the broader highways that almost everyone else travels on. There were moreover no big trucks out here, only a few local light vehicles and bikes plying.


But now we could see from the map, the river was beginning to transition into the feed-end of Pong Lake - and having caught a couple glimpses from maybe a kilometer's distance, we began looking for a way to get down closer to it.

[ringoism]

In the interest of getting ourselves lakeside for its fresh breezes, views, and wildlife, we had started down a little unmarked (as they all are) cemented lane running perpendicular from our "main road"... but after a hundred meters or so, we found it to be hopelessly washed out / broken - even with 4x4 it would have been foolhardy to attempt it. So we turned around and kept our eyes open. An old man at a roadside shop had suggested we go ahead towards the next "big town" - which I think maybe was Nagrota Surian - and find the waterfront there, particularly as it was a festival day and many people would be down there engaged in customary ceremonies, etc. I asked whether there wasn't anyplace nearer, and he said there was, but that nobody would be there... Ahhh, perfect then. Turned around, went back maybe 100m, and exited the road into what looked like an empty field, but which on the satellite view seemed to show a small track heading lakewards. At first it looked promising:




But ultimately, passing a home, it turned into nothing more than a footpath, from which we once again had to reverse. I was about to give up, but had noted a turn to the right when we were coming down - there was a hand-pumped well maybe 50ft ahead and it looked like a dead end, but venturing towards it, found that it made a sharp bend to the left - I expected to find it turning into another footpath, but found it just about navigable:



There were no real tyre marks/ tracks, just slippery round-rock all across its breadth... making me again glad we were descending with something capable of pulling us back out again.

Eventually here too, we came to a place where the lane just disappeared, and split into what looked like two separate footpaths. It was tight and we started trying to figure out where we could turn around - tried one spot that seemed too tough, so figured I'd proceed ahead, scrape through the scrub, and find a better spot - but not 20 meters onwards, we realized we had actually arrived!














SO glad we'd decided to go "out on a limb" here and proceed into the uncertain and even dubious... It turned out to be an absolutely lovely spot. My wife got down on the ground in the shade of the car and just about fell asleep in the cool, quiet breezes, while we men looked around at the fishing boats, cattle, flowers, and waterfowl. Nobody else was around except for a rather portly lone lady cowherd. There was a large shadetree along the water's edge several hundred meters further in the distance, and in retrospect I figured we probably could have driven right up to it. One of these days I'd like to go back and find that place and just sit under that tree by the lake for an entire day, then tent-camp at night in the green grass, after a freshly caught fried-fish dinner... We did have our tents along, but no food or means of catching it... Ahhhh, dreams...


After perhaps an hour down at the lakeside, we figured we needed to progress towards Pong Dam, if we were to find our night's lodging (still unspecified) before dark. The one place we'd inquired about - one "Pong Eco Village" sounded nice but was well beyond our target budget at Rs. 5500/night (we'd paid a small fraction of that for the previous night's homestay).

The dam was only an hour onwards... My reading online had suggested that security around the Bhakra Dam at Gobind Sagar was quite loose, surprisingly stating that photography was freely permitted in the vicinity. Maybe the authorities were finally realizing that any State Enemy already knew far more from publicly available satellite imagery than any suspected incognito spy-tourist could ever provide...???

So imagine my surprise when we arrived at the checkpoint a few km's before the dam and found a lot of very serious-looking security staff, a drop-gate and cones and sandbags or what have you... and was motioned back to the side - "You need a permit to drive across the dam" I was told.

Seriously???

"Well, if you want to just drive across and come back, it's okay, but you can't stop anywhere, you have to drive straight across - and no photos - and you have to make an entry over there".

That was fine with us, so I walked 25m over to the inspector's booth, divulged all the requisite important details, duly recorded in a register (apparently so that in case the dam was bombed that night, the authorities would know who to blame, on the basis of whatever info the terrorist had voluntarily provided them??? (no photo or ID was required)), and proceeded onwards. The dam's "causeway" is arrow-straight and pretty impressive... a big concrete ramp, looking quite like an amusement-park water-slide, descended to our left - the kids were pretty impressed. To the right was a fairly vast body of water... with a long, thick, snaking floe of - yes - Himachali footwear and bottles/cartons/thermocol - floating in its midst, towards the area the turbines must have been... God, what a mess. In other lands we would have had an active water-sports scene here, and I could only imagine what it would be like trying to water-ski or boogey-board across that prominent refuse-snake... Sh*@!!!... Again, it is hard to grasp the mindset that perpetuates these habits, this utter lack of regard for beauty and purity... and the authorities that seem to be doing very little to either discourage or remedy it.

Whatever, we had arrived at this end of the lake, and apart from the trash lining its banks, at a distance it was quite pretty in form:





I got looking for lodging again, and found that we had just passed the HPTDC tourist huts about 100m back, very near the dam. Only signboard was for a watersports training institute - which explains the presence of the ski-boat we had spotted from our viewpoint.

Cost was about half that of the Eco-Village (whose proprietor had helpfully mentioned this place as a lower-cost option), so we headed in. Pleasant enough little place, far from the road, with okay views from the restaurant and two lines of huts that were actually a lot less inspiring than their initial exterior appearance might suggest.

At any rate they were clean enough inside, had A/C and good water supply, and simple as they were (and with no views whatsoever), they did their job. Staff were more professional than I'd expected of a gov. institution, food was quite good, and it was an overall pleasant experience.

[ringoism]

Next morning we wanted to get started earlier than usual... Had our breakfast, packed up, and headed out towards the - eh - Pong Dam, again, as the kids were keen to see it. Same drill, and when I got to the other side, the guard asked, "You were here yesterday, weren't you?"

"Eh, that was probably us - have you seen more than one orange Jeep pass through here since last evening?"

(Probably not).

After our fourth crossing of the dam, we headed towards the gov. boat launch which normally takes passengers out to Ransar Island, apparently a hub for water-oriented activities. The staff at the tourist huts had told me the boat service was presently closed, and I'd heard from a friend in the region that there had been some sort of accident recently, that as such he didn't recommend that boating. Presumably the accident and closure were related, but we still wanted to go down and see if we could find a co-operative pilot or private boat to take us out there.

Came across a huge Banyan tree enroute (every small village / bus stop has a sizeable public shade tree of some type in this region), which provided some coolness and good fun:



Google Maps again seemed to mislead us - could see no road towards the docks except this one down a slippery steep descent, which dead-ended at the lake; Without 4x4 we might not have even attempted it, and certainly would have had some trouble backing up and out:





At the end of it, just a few little fishing rowboats moored, the usual floating trash, and a pair of fishermen fitting a new plank in the side of their wooden craft. It didn't look like the kind of place that a multi-passenger tourist craft could move out from.

Moved back towards where we'd come from in the car, still perplexed as to the location of the gov. boat launch - but finally spied it (no signboard anywhere) down a foot-trail through a gap in the trees:

True enough, it was closed. Boats very much there but not a soul in sight.



Bit of a disappointment and unfortunate, as it could have been a nice ride. There is also a gov. Rest House on the island, which is supposed to be quite nice and presumably would be a happy place to spend a night at.


Having been thus foiled, we decided to head towards Kangra / Dharamshala, where we have friends and a relative we wanted to meet. By the usual route these towns are a mere couple hours' drive, but as usual we would be attempting to explore the smaller roads, this time nearer the north shore. It took all day, but we were not disappointed.

Managed to off-road ourselves down to a lakeside spot again, where this time we witnessed a huge flock of black fowl taking to the air - also some huge birds of unknown species which unfortunately I was not able to photograph... the battery on the camera with better zoom had gone flat when lakeside the previous day, and I'd somehow forgotten to bring my charger! The mental pictures fortunately remain - and we hope revisit the place sometime later... It is said that in the migration season, you cannot find a square foot of ground around the lake without a bird standing on it!





Before moving too far away from the lake environs, also managed to procure some of its produce - here in the form of a variety locally known as "Maha Sher" - my friend in Kangra told me it is not available up there and had advised I bring some; when he fried it up that evening and we tasted it, my wife and I agreed that it was honestly some of the tastiest fish we'd ever had.




The numerous railway bridges and rails visible in the following photos represent components of none other than the famed Kangra Valley Railway, apparently the longest narrow-gauge line in the world at 164km's length, running from Jogindernagar to Pathankot. Riding the full length of that has been on my bucket-list for a very long time, and now witnessing afresh many of the lovely and untainted settings through which it runs, we are more determined than ever to do this... Temporarily closed at present due to a broken bridge near Dalhousie (so we're told), we may have to wait till early Spring to do that. By that time the mountains ought to form a gloriously snowy backdrop, so it may prove worth whatever wait.

Check out the Wikipedia article for more info on this local lifeline and engineering marvel - it is quite fascinating.

[ringoism]

Our final attraction to be seen as "tourists" would be the amazing and ancient Kangra Fort, which we managed to arrive at just before sundown.

This, too, had long been on my wish list - I'd visited as a single (meaning both solo and unmarried) traveler years ago, but being on a slim budget at the time, and thus irritated at the prospect of being charged twenty times what even a very rich Indian (who generates far more than twenty times my salary per annum) would be, turned back from its gates. To be tangential, I think it's about time for a move away from the "we poor Indians" mindset - and the apparent illogic of effectively expecting outsiders to maintain India's own national treasures (or if not that, is it then a form of punishment? That would not be much better!). It probably says a lot - too much - at some level, but will leave it for others to comment - I am just sharing my feelings, which I think quite a few other travelers from abroad have also felt. For the record, Washington, D.C.'s amazing and vast array of Smithsonian Institute museums was always fully free for all visitors, no matter where in this world they might come from. India's economy is on course to surpass America's in the not-too-distant future... worth pondering the implications of this changed scenario, then. This is not the India of three decades ago.

Anyway. I would not have wanted to pay Rs600 vs. Rs20 now, either, and gratefully on account of my change in status and corresponding ID was not asked to - but the fort is certainly amazing, apparently one of the oldest (if not the oldest) in India, its foundations supposedly laid in 400BC. Pondering this, it was evident to me (if it hadn't been already) that to be accurate / honest the regional powers of the subcontinent weren't exactly devoid of all trouble and need for serious defenses prior to the much later invasions of "the usual suspects" (not to justify those, mind you)... or for that matter even earlier ones - the Kangra fort had in fact already existed for a couple generations when Alexander invaded the region in 327/326BC.

Whatever the case, had been wanting for a long time to get our kids to a fort, where I knew they'd enjoy the stairs, nooks, "secret" passages and rooms - and had planned to visit Rajasthan with them sometime for that purpose... but while amazing places like Amber are massive / expansive, they are not necessarily more impressive IMO. Kangra's "little" fort is set on an amazing and seemingly unassailable perch surrounded by sheer cliff faces and river gorges... it is really something to behold - not easy to imagine how it actually would have been captured - or even constructed in the first place.












Will leave you here with a sunset view from the fort citadels, and bid my fellow armchair travelers a warm "Adieu", as far as our tour is concerned. From here on, we would be focusing on visits with friends and simply moving towards home, over more familiar terrain.









Should add as a P.S. that the Marshal as usual performed admirably, causing no real trouble and pulling over and around all the hills and curves without complaint. I had got the selfstarter rebuilt (long overdue, had been acting up even before Ladakh) at Ner Chowk prior to departing Mandi, and the fuel tank leak our second day out was resolved by simply tightening a single bolt along its seam. The car managed around 12-13kmpl, pretty good considering the relentlessly hilly conditions and constant stops, also the fact that I'd forgotten to ever release the hub-locks before starting out - which might have granted it another 1kmpl or so.

Quite a vehicle, I'd say, and every time we go out like this and witness what it can do for us - particularly on the tricky / steep / loose / slippery little tracks we sometimes find ourselves on - I get thinking I never want to let it go. It really has been a member of our family, a constant companion through all kinds of weather in all kinds of places, and has never failed to get us where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. Something more comfortable could seem "better" - but for all its compromises, this old, crude thing does better than one might expect - the unsexy front bench seat is actually very comfy for both wife and I, and easy on my troubled spine - more than I can say for a Volvo I owned earlier. Easily accessed large luggage section in back allows us to get easily to our snacks and extra clothes and first-aid kit and whatever else we may need while driving along, and also provides a place for our youngest to retreat to for a nap when he wants to be more horizontal. All these being benefits a sedan or small hatch could never provide. I could go on and on here but won't. It did all it needed to do, and carried us without drama through a good trip that will be long remembered.



Our only disappointments on our journey (now here's the difficult but honest part) come down to the filth we witnessed almost everywhere along what would otherwise have been pristinely beautiful water bodies, on which a lot of living creatures are dependent, humans included. More could be spoken of, but I think we all know those conversations tend to dead-end, if not offend. I believe there are possible transformations / solutions - even a more transcendent, singular transformation / Solution - but it does not appear that the majority are quite ready to personally accept or act on much of it as of now.

In my previous thread re: our recent Ladakh travels, though I had mentioned some of the degradations there on display, I had (right or wrong?) resisted the temptation to include any of the "true scenes" in my posted photos. The truth is I had worked hard in some cases to frame my shots so as to omit the litter and garbage and shoddy constructions and broken-down / abandoned projects, etc, seen all around - something that in truth nobody should have to do!

Yet we all usually frame / PP those out, because it is easier to do that than to think about and try to promote broader solutions - also because frankly, the truth can be unpleasant, even embarrassing - not something we want to show off to our envying social-media followers. So we can and do retreat into the superficial, into a kind of wonderland of denial and wishful thinking: "This place was perfect / idyllic" - when for all the good, it really wasn't quite. When this eventually becomes habitual and endemic (when what is "real" is considered to be what I choose to depict / reveal, NOT necessarily the actual Truth of a situation), then I believe all hope is lost.

If we are going to be improved / transformed as people, I believe our only hope is to begin with some honest assessment of who we really are (as members of the human race, as citizens of whichever region / country / state / district / town / family / community, whatever), what we are REALLY like, where we (and very likely our predecessors) have gone wrong in our thinking and in our soul really - as those are where all actions (or inactions) are finally driven from. And then, where we catch glimpses of something better - opportunities and movements and channels towards real transformation and change, we would do well to study those, dig down and see what motivates (or demotivates) people in general, and ourselves and our particular "group" more specifically.

I believe we can do better - much better - and if you doubt it, then before embarking on the blame-game, at least look at these final frames and acknowledge that something is terribly wrong, that we are really slowly destroying ourselves, that we or many whom we personally know/love and interact with are responsible for this kind of thing, and that none of us can hope to be healthy in mind, body, and spirit if we continue on like this. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say - and if we should find solutions, it's high time we start embracing them.

'Nuff said, and I hope you enjoyed the rest of the ride as much as we did.

-Eric

[Aditya]

Thread moved out from the Assembly Line. Thanks for sharing!

[shankar.balan]

Lovely write up and superb photographs. Thanks for sharing the knowledge and information.
I must compliment you on that lovely old Mahindra Marshal. It brings back a lot of memories of the 1990’s when these vehicles were commonly to be seen around India and more so in the Nilgiri hills where we lived then. Great vehicles!
One of my neighbours here in Bangalore has one. Well kept and good looking vehicle. In that original Bayer Blue shade too. (Pic attached)
I was wondering, was your Marshal repainted into its present shade?

[GTO]

Originally Posted by shankar.balan

I must compliment you on that lovely old Mahindra

Well said . More than the travel pictures, I was ogling at pics of his Mahindra, as well as the view of the world outside with the bonnet showing. These yesteryear Mahindras truly have a charm of their own.

Thanks for sharing, ringoism! On our homepage today.

[JediKnight]

Originally Posted by ringoism

I believe we can do better - much better - and if you doubt it, then before embarking on the blame-game, at least look at these final frames and acknowledge that something is terribly wrong, that we are really slowly destroying ourselves..

Appreciate your honesty and completely understand how you feel. I almost weep when I look at the gashes in the Dhuladhar hills caused by slate mining. And the havoc caused by trucks on the Bilaspur-Kiratpur highway servicing cement plants. Apathy towards the environment is widespread in India. But Himachal could have been a model state. At least there was some hope.

[Red Liner]

I feel the same way about how trash is perceived and dealt with both by locals as well as tourists in different parts of India.

Having stayed a full season here in Ladakh, I can safely say that the locals here are extremely diligent about trash, separate the waste, and send the dry waste to a local truck that comes collecting once a week. The wet waste is manure for the farms or food for the cows.

Trash if any is almost certainly tourist get off.

We are going into a deadly spiral with how much This planet can handle. At some point it’s going to be enough is enough.

[ringoism]

Originally Posted by shankar.balan

One of my neighbours here in Bangalore has one. Well kept and good looking vehicle. In that original Bayer Blue shade too. (Pic attached)
I was wondering, was your Marshal repainted into its present shade?

Those non-metallic blues and greens looked great IMO.

Having been originally purchased for local taxi duty, ours (like perhaps a majority of other cars in India) was white. Photos in the first several posts in this thread: https://www.team-bhp.com/forum/4x4-v...x4-ngcs-3.html (Our Marshal DI 4x4 NGCS) would show you what it looked like then. Not bad at all, but the orange/copper metallic (custom mixed in an attempt to replicate a nicely glowing OE color I'd seen in the U.S. on a few Rubicons and other Jeeps) is certainly more unique and makes the car (and us) more identifiable. We end up meeting a lot of people this way... even at our first stop for lunch near Pandoh, the dhaba-wallah left his post to come outside and photograph it...

They are becoming a rare sight, I suppose.

-Eric