Due to timing, we decided that our final ski trip would be up the Jagatsukh Valley. This conclusion involved carrying in 12 days of food allowing for many fun opportunities. So, with the backpacks full of food and some climbing gear, we weren't too ashamed to hire porters for the first day.

Rob and I went in a day ahead of Jeff and Dusty (our new great friends from Canada) as they wanted another day to get over some stomach illnesses we all endured. The trip started with good karma as we were able to drive up 600m and 10 km farther than expected. There is a huge hydro project going in (combining water from both the Jagatsukh and Hampta Valleys) and the worker's road enabled us access. While this project is great for access, the net result appears negative as man is tainting a most spectacular piece of nature.

After leaving the village of Khanol, we walked up the south side of the valley hearing consistent dynamite explosions from the north side, watching massive boulders being pushed down the cliff through dust storms, and trying to gauge the battle this development team was fighting. In addition to the steep eroded hillside the first 10 km of roadway switchbacks through, this blasting section was taking place on a few hundred foot cliff. Crazy.

Not soon enough, we were past the noise and into the Himalayan wilderness. This was apparent as we spotted many Himalayan griffons gliding around. To no surprise, we had to push our porters to get them up near snowline. Even though they only walked for four hours, it saved our bodies from hitting energy depletion on day 1. The next day Rob & I enjoyed a nice ski into a large basin before the afternoon thunderstorms began. This weather pattern was fairly consistent throughout our trip....decent mornings followed by afternoon showers accompanied with entertaining lightning and thunder.

Jeff and Dusty arrived that afternoon and we were all stoked to move camp up to the end of the valley into some primo ski terrain. Well, the weather pattern fluctuated that next day as we woke up to a little shower and after making a dash for it, had to set camp short of our final destination due to rain and hail. But finally, on day 4, we beat the weather to our destination and set up camp at the base of the Goru Valley.

From this camp, we optimized the weather windows and scored continuously great skiing. On the second full day there, Jeff, Robo, and I summited Pachim Pahar at about 5040m, enjoying some fast turns off the summit on a couple inches of new snow and then a great gully ski to the valley floor 1100m later.

On our third day we ventured farther up the Goru, each few minutes gaining additional looks at tasty terrain. There was one ridgeline providing a couple steep chutes that awakened all of our taste buds and we knew we had to sample its spice before this trip of gluttony was over. The next day we climbed up around these lines and soon found ourselves on top of the desired goodies. Peering over the edge onto our options, we began getting nervous stomach flutters, wondering if we were eligible for such fine dining. With stable conditions, we could not leave such culinary treats to spoil with the springtime heat.

Robo, our professional paparazzi for the trip, dropped into the central chute first to get some photos. Dusty followed linking consistently great turns down a wonderful fall line. Jeff decided to ski a sportier line skier's left, forcing him to make a couple turns above a rock band and through some rocks to enter the chute proper. He made it happen and put a new hunger in my belly. Seeing there were many delicacies left in that line, I also went left.

We were all breathing heavily half way down our chutes requiring a quick rest before finishing. At the bottom we shared hoots and hollers as the endorphins raged through our bodies.

The next day was our last day of skiing as we needed to move camp down the valley before the long march back to civilization. All still buzzing from the previous outing, we were content to just get some turns in for the last time of the season. We ascended a high point at the end of the Goru Valley rewarding us with views into the Malana Valley and further east amongst the peaks of Spitti. We skied steep chutes back into the basin and then, sure enough, decided to muster the energy to boot back up for one last feast off our favorite ridgeline.

This time Robo and I skied a line skier's right adjacent to a hanging glacier. Robo went first, not scared to let his sticks bomb over hard pack steepness. Quite impressive. I felt things out; more hesitant to make a mess but still excited to explore a new treat. Dusty put together another smooth descent down the central chute and Jeff finished with a fantastic line coming directly into the central chute through some rocks.

Wow, what a trip of skiing. We were all happy to have skied some steep lines safely amongst big mountains and impressed to continue to enjoy each other's company. "Pick 'em up" and "5-3-5-2" were often hollered from one tent to the next to put a smile on our faces.

After this trip, Robo and I maximized on our one full day in Manali with some shopping and final chais or mango shakes with friends. Then it was an overnight bus to Delhi, some A/C movie time with the bro before departing ways, then an overnight flight to Bangkok followed by an an overnight train to our apartment here in Hat Yai. I enjoyed that first night of good sleep before waking early and heading to school to teach English to Thai elementary students.

Yes, that's right, I have decided to teach and am stoked for the challenges! Due to Em's respectable performance, her program (Smart English) has hired me for a part-time position this term. When meeting with the boss, she (and all the Smart English team) reassured me that I would do well since I have Em for help..."she is the best."

After the first two days, I am optimistic about the situation. I have fourteen hours of class time and so far the class size has not exceeded 30 students. I have a Thai teaching assistant, Jeen, and there is another Smart English instructor (with Thai assistant) at the school, which makes for good lesson sharing in addition to the respectable library Em has created. It is apparent that one could choose to just get by and lean on the given materials or create some fun lesson plans (with contingencies of course) and be that much more competent. So, I have lots of work to get caught up and then comfortably ahead.

In addition, both Em and I are also teaching some private classes two afternoons a week through a program Em's friends just began. We had our first session yesterday and it was nice to be in a classroom with only eight students and also a Thai teaching assistant. The not-so-nice surprise was the four parents who also attended the hour and a half class. Turns out it was all good and they were supportive of what I did.

So, from the Indian Himalayan peaks straight to the Thai urban classroom. Pretty cool.

Em is great and it is wonderful to learn some of the strengths she gained during her meditation retreat, which she plans to write something about later.

And finally, we are both very excited to be on similar schedules these next few months!

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring

Just returned from our first trip back in the hills of northern India and wow is it great to be back in snow country! I think Dusty summed it up great when she justified my sustained energy to climb as "eleven months away from mountains." It has been quite rejunivating to be back!

In addition to the large masses of snowy earth that calls my soul, my return trip to the Kullu Valley has yielded warm welcomes from the friendly communities of friends we made here last year. After the 16+ hour bus ride from Delhi, we arrived in Manali to the warm hospitality of Peter's family: hot chai, showers, and peaceful views up the valley from their balcony.

On our first full day in the valley, Rob and I hiked up to Solang where Em and I lived for most of our season. Just before Solang, we were stopped at a river where villagers from Burruwa and Solang were building a bridge to connect the two communities. We helped throw some stones into the approach and appreciated being allowed to share in the communal chore.

The next day we got on our skis for a day trip up into the Gulaba region. We both felt the altitude but still enjoyed almost 4000' of spring turns as Robo caught his first glimpses of this vast high country. We descended to the bottom where the Himalayan Ski Village was sponsoring a ski contest. I ran into a bunch of local mountain acquaintances there and soon enough we were strongly urged to attend the awards ceremony and eat lunch. This was Robo's first no silverware eating experience and being the rough-Alaskan-working-next-to-the-wild-things-guide he is, he was quite the natural with his bare hands.

The day was great as I recognized most of the attendees and immediately felt like I was back amongst a community of friends. I think the fact I returned has given me a certain level of respect from locals while simultaneously boosting their pride in their backyard. Lots of people continue to ask how Em is doing and sending love her way. She is missed by many.

Building to the community of great people we have met here in the Kullu Valley is the Canadian duo of Jeff and Dusty. Fabulous folks and instantly we hit it off. They are kind of the Trev & Em of this season as they have been living at The Iceland Hotel in Solang since February.

They invited us on their "final trip" to Rohtang Pass and due to the obvious synergy, it was a no-brainer to accept. We were delayed a few days on our departure as the Army was not allowing us to our desired road drop-off point due to the fact that the "Chief Engineer" was in town. We tinkered with trying to get permission as it is just a liability issue that they wouldn't allow us to pass their road block. Sure enough, two days later we were allowed up as any sort of liability concerns seemed to have left town with the "Chief Engineer."

We spent seven days camped up on Rohtang Pass (~14,000') and enjoyed some very sport lines. It was a perfect first trip for Rob and I as we had one base camp allowing for day pack (lightweight) trips, were camped high for instant acclimitization and had quick access to many great routes that did not require early morning starts and huge vertical gains.

Conditions were fantastic with consistently sunny mornings and a stable spring snowpack. In addition to great skiing, we shared tons of laughs with Jeff and Dusty. They are both holds-no-bar sort of jokesters and it was great to throw jokes around so easily.

We had such a great time that they are going to join us on our next trip up the Jagatsukh Valley. We are hoping that this journey will be another false "final trip" for them!

Labels: Iceland Hotel, India, Kullu Valley, Manali, ski touring, Solang

Well, this is my final ski post for who knows how long. Wow! What a season it has been…beginning in Alaska in minus 15 degree pow, some soft Cascade turns at home with the crew, and then the last four months of growing my mountain knowledge amongst these most admirable teachers called the Indian Himalaya. I must say I have never felt as content with my mountain experiences and this last trip (pictures) was definitely the frosting on the cake.

Em and I had always envisioned a sunny spring camp on Rohtang Pass to end our ski season. Knowing more about the consistently strong northerly winds ripping over this pass, and with a plethora of alternative exploration routes, we had fun brainstorming potential trips. With some approach advice from our Kiwi friends Neil & Heidi, we decided to head north into the Kulti Valley of Lahaul. This trip would take us out of the habitable world of the Kullu Valley north into the higher regions of Lahaul and The Great Himalaya Range.

We taxied as far up towards Rohtang Pass as possible. While the drive up was sunny, dark clouds were approaching the pass just as fast as the taxi could cover the thirty some kilometers of switchbacks. We toured to the top, deskinned and skied just in front of the clouds to route-find our way down. The skiing was marginal and with the limited visibility, we took a conservative route close to the highway. This turned out beneficial for soon clouds socked in, it began to snow, and we were lucky to catch a taxi returning north to Koksar. With heavy precip and looking forward to a new part of India and some culture, we decided to try to find a guesthouse in the small village of Koksar. Due to regulating all people coming over the pass, we had to stop at the “police station” to register our names, passport number, reason for going over the pass, etc. While they state this is for safety to make sure everyone is accounted for, we think the accounting for is more because of the access into nearby Kashmir. Either way, it turned out to be a beneficial stop. The “police station” had no roof or walls due to snow failure and instead, the army dormitory next door housed the necessary passport check. The people inside were not exactly police, but the rescue team in case anything happened to anybody working on or traveling over the pass while the road was still snow-covered. All employed through the army, they could share titles such as police officer, snow rescuer, army road worker, doctor, etc. With mountain skills and passions, a few were also skiers and very excited to have us as guests. They wouldn’t allow us to stay at the guesthouse as it was “too expensive” and demanded we stay with them on an extra bed. It was quite fun as we finally learned the India card game called sweep, got to watch the chapati-making process, and enjoyed their hospitality.

The skiers of the rescue team were very intrigued with our gear and my career as a ski instructor. Nobody here has had the respect for my ski management position as much as they have for my time ski instructing. So when I am now asked what I did back home from an outdoorsman, I reply ski instructor. Their eyes usually light up, they state with praise, “Ski Master” and either try to find a way to ski with me or use me to make money teaching domestic tourists. O.K., back to the gear…they really wanted to ski on it the next morning. If they would have wanted to ski with both Em and I, we would have happily sacrificed a day of our tour to join them. But instead, they wanted (and stated quite directly) that Emily should stay in while one of them skied on her gear, another one skied on my gear, and I skied on their old straight sticks while giving them pointers. By eliminating Em, they lost us both.

So, we were back on schedule to leave the village of Koksar early for our least desired portion of the trip…fording the Koksar river. A couple hours later, and with numb lower extremeties, we were across the river and heading towards the mouth of our desired location, the Kulti Valley. After a few more hours of hiking with heavy packs (including skis, boots, a week’s worth of food, etc.) we set camp just at snowline. The next day we pushed to a most desirable base camp location underneath tons of moderate ski lines. In the afternoon, we toured up the valley towards the bottom of an icefall that limited easy access any further up the valley. This was just fine as everything on the climber’s right side of the valley was full of great looking ski routes. The valley floor sits at ~3600m, was covered with a few feet of snow (~12’ snow banks on the river in the shady areas) and had that much more snow on all the west- to north-facing aspects on the climber’s right side. Due to being farther north and our aspect, the snow was remaining good much later in the day than the south facing slopes I recently skied in the Solang Valley. So, we didn’t need any sort of headlamp starts in order to still get high and get the goodies.

The first big ski day Em led us up to the top of the tasty slopes directly above camp to one of many unnamed peaks. We had to name it something, so this skiable delight became E&T Peak (and Em’s new high point at ~4650m). We took the aesthetic path directly fall line down ~3000ft of prime corn conditions. Then we began our afternoon routine of lunch, cards, nap, etc.

The next morning we awoke to some clouds south and uncertainty as to what the weather would do. With this uncertainty and Em’s legs feeling the last few days, she chose to keep her head down. I started up with beautiful rays of sun protruding over a nearby peak. Fortunately, the weather cleared and I had a most wonderful outing. I had eyed an aesthetic line the day before that contoured around a huge ice bulge and led up a skinnable summit ridge. With weather and conditions bomber, I soon found myself next to a summit flag overlooking the huge glaciated valley just east of us. You may not believe this, but the descent was just as fun as the approach!!! Meanwhile - after waking up late - Em chose to skin up along the gully for some bird watching and a light morning ski.

Our next day, we toured back to E&T Peak and skied a different aspect of more creamy goodness. The amount of skiable exploration just above our camp could warrant a couple more days, and then there is always further up valley. The Kulti Valley did not disappoint!

We received new snow that night and awoke to a beautiful blanket of whiteness to begin our descent out of the valley. With the warm days up in the valley and watching the fingers of the meandering Kulti River grow, we didn’t expect our snow bridge downstream to still be there and chose to ford the river up near camp. We passed a beautiful marsh on the other side of the valley that provided much more life than expected. The walk out was pretty straightforward and the warm days had turned much of the landscape from brown and white on the way up to green grass and wildflowers on the way down. We stopped next to a spring that provided habitat for many wildflowers. I laid down and soaked in the scenery as Em stayed on her feet chasing butterflies with the camera.

We reached the mouth of the river where we camped (the megamid on grass!) in order to get an early start for the despised Koksar river crossing. The evening was quite nice…warm, summer camping conditions. The hike down the Chandra river the next morning was done quickly and quietly as all the small waterways we crossed a week earlier at the same time of day were perceptibly much larger to both of us now. Just before reaching the Koksar drainage, we saw a couple people working some fields, then a couple children…could this mean they replaced the bridge over the Koksar? We risked such hope by talking aloud of a new bridge but both knew not to expect anything. Sure enough, we rounded the final corner and there stood the most bomber footbridge we had seen in India. Heavy pack and all, Em was still busting a move and the high fives were flying.

Shortly after the comforting bridge crossing, we were back with our rescue team friends. In addition to the ordinary hospitality cup of chai, they offered us fresh mango. Yes, fresh mango in Lahaul, the land of snow and rock. This meant one thing…Rohtang Pass was cleared and car traffic was traveling over! Relieved, we hung out for a little bit, exchanged contact info, then got in a taxi that took us to our front door in Solang! Even open for traffic, the crossing over the pass was an adventure. The road cut through 20+ ft snow walls on the upper switchbacks, and was completely clogged with tourist traffic most of the way down the Kullu Valley side. Throughout several hours of stop-and-go traffic (rush hour at 3900m!) our jeep windows were continually approached by vendors selling coffee, tea, and saffron that our driver assured us was most certainly fake.

Exploration galore, new friends, tons of great ski lines, and ski conditions holding bomber late in spring - Lahaul and the Kulti Valley delivered the goodies.

Now, it is a couple days of errands, a social “going away” evening with friends, and then we are jungle-bound!!!

Labels: India, ski touring

Well, as Emily described, the weather had been inconsistent at best and the ski gods were not dishing up the good karma for the western ski buddies as hoped for. The crew understood the respect mountains deserve (especially these young beasts that rise and fall constantly) and made the most of the many non-ski attractions of this magical kingdom. We ended up bailing on the heli-drop due to a poor weather forecast and instead taxied towards Rohtang Pass for one day of decent weather to get us deep into a basin and then sit in the tent for a long day and night of Himalayan thunder/lightning/snowstorm. For photos of this Rummy heavy/ski light trip, click here.

I just read Em’s post and she did a great job of summarizing our non-ski activities. The one thing she left out, and it does deserve mentioning, is the complete butt-kicking Pepe delivered to all of us in Rummy 500. He won nine straight games and I placed last in just about all of them. We are all a little worried for Pepe and his relationship with Carla as after his first 3 losses with Em and I, he stated with sincere passion that cards and love-life are indirectly related (meaning if doing poorly in cards, one’s love life is great, and vice-versa). Boy, Carla must have enjoyed her time alone in Argentina!!!

With a sketchy forecast ahead of us, but days limited for Pepe and Rob, the crew decided to head up the Solang Valley and see what happens. Rob and Pepe were both passionate that they would rather be in the mountains in uncertain weather than in the hotel as massive formations of rock, ice, and snow is what drew them across the globe. With no expectations except inspiring terrain and great companionship, we headed out with some light overcast overhead. In just a couple hours, it was raining at that most lovely temperature just above freezing. Pepe was holding strong, realizing that his skiing chances for the next day (his last chance) were slowly diminishing, but still wanting to camp somewhere in the mountains. After another hour or two of wet downpour, his tune had changed and he was dreaming of a civilized Iceland Hotel. I was indifferent (knowing the warm shower and hot tea would be nice) and Bolton wanted to stick it out (mostly to get in the tent to avoid more moisture even if it meant heading back to Solang the next day). With a wet hug goodbye to Pepe, Bolton and I threw up the Megamid as quick as ever and dove into our sleeping bags. All we really hoped for was the chance to dry our gear the next day (an extra bonus would be to actually tour or ski). The early morning bathroom call brought clear skies and by 6:30 a.m. the hot Indian sun began its work as we hung out all our items. To our happy surprise, the sky remained blue and we were packed up and moving higher up the valley by 9:00 a.m.

We set camp at 3500m at the bottom of a northern valley with lots of big south facing lines falling off a summit ridgeline boasting peaks over 5000m. After a quick tour to the head of the Solang Valley just underneath Hanuman Tibba, we returned to our site shortly before Frank had showed up on our track to camp. It was great to see him as he always carries a smile and positive energy. We all were stoked we got the bluebird day and just hoping the gods would deliver one more so we could get up high.

Well, the gods have not stopped delivering blue bird conditions and we skied our brains out for the next few days until out of food and needing to get Bolton back to catch his bus to Delhi. I will let the photos do most of the talking, but basically we got what every ski mountaineer planning a trip hopes for. With big descents from over 5000m (one from the summit of Shitidar at ~5200m or ~`17,000 ft), intense ridgelines with views of steep faced peaks in every direction, creamy corn snow, and a great climbing/skiing team, it was most satisfying! So satisfying in fact, I think I am ready to hang up the skis, head south to the jungle, and begin the next phase of our adventure. But before that happens, Em and I still have our week long trip of sunny turns on and around Rohtang Pass we’ve always planned would end our ski time here. She will not let that vision fade away and we all know the benefits of compromise to satisfy one’s partner!!!

It was fantastic to have good friends make the journey to spend time with us during our adventure and share in the awe of these majestic mountains. I'm glad everyone bucked up and made the most of it, proving that the companionships outshine weather.

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring

We’ve had an eventful couple of weeks here – so busy we haven’t had a chance to write about it! Between friends arriving from the US and Argentina, the sudden explosion of ski tourers in the valley, and the local friends we've gotten to know over the last few months, we’ve been surrounded by tons of great people. Newly arrived folks have also given Trevor and me a reason to do more of the “touristy stuff” we hadn’t gotten around to. So bear with me, as I have a lot of sights to describe, and a lot of pictures to go with them (Sightseeing Around Manali - Naggar, Hadimba Temple; April Manali – dinner at Peter’s, ski contest, Thangka painter, etc.; Dharamsala).

The Sights Around Manali

Rob and Tyson arrived by bus on the 19th, and we spent the next two days seeing all the sights around Manali. We took a day and went down to Naggar (16km south of Manali) for the castle, temples, and Roerich Gallery. We started out near the top of the hill at the Gallery, which houses a small collection of works by Russian painter Nikolai Roerich, who lived in the Kullu Valley for most of his life. His slightly surrealist Himalayan mountainscapes were very impressive. Naggar Castle was next on our downhill circuit. The Castle was built about 500 years ago by the ruler of the Kullu Valley, and features lovely woodwork and wrap-around balconies with fantastic views of the lower valley. There is a small and intricately carved temple inside one of the castle courtyards. Three very friendly woodcarvers were working in the courtyard – I think a lot of the woodwork on the temple and castle is original, but there has definitely been some maintenance and restoration work. One of the courtyards served as an open-air café, and we opted for some beverages in the sun. The guys ordered up a few bottles of Golden Eagle, a local beer that turned out to be pretty awful. I got a coffee (instant Nescafe, which with a few rare exceptions is the only coffee to be found around here) which was only marginally better. The sun, breeze, atmospheric surroundings, and views more than made up for the drinks. Before heading back up the valley, I took a few minutes to check out an interesting stone temple across from the Castle. It was a quiet spot that obviously didn’t get as much attention as its more imposing neighbor, but had a nice stone-paved courtyard ringed by some overgrown flowerbeds, and some lovely carvings. There had probably been some kind of ceremony there recently, as there were flowers strewn around, and the foreheads of all the carved figures were marked with orange paste. Back in Manali, we spent some time checking out the Hadimba Temple, close to where Trevor and I stayed when we first got into town. The guidebook says it was built in 1553, and it does have the most impressively ancient feel of any of the places we visited, with its age-darkened woodwork, assortment of animal horns, and forest setting. Tyson got lots of good information and pictures to bring home for his classes, and all of us enjoyed the mix of history and domestic Indian tourism. I don’t think the visitors quite believed us about the gargantuan white bunnies toted by aggressive picture-pushing women until they saw them.

Ski Practice & Competition

Sightseeing accomplished, the guys set out into the mountains for 5 days of turns, and I prepared for some quality time on my own. The planners of the Himalayan Ski Village had a ski contest planned for Gulaba on Sunday, and Khem’s 11-year-old son Rajit (home from boarding school on holiday) was excited to enter. HSV had a practice course set up on Saturday, so Rajit, cousin Sanjay, and I piled into a very crowded sharejeep for a bluebird day of practice turns. The boys didn’t really need much watching, so while they hit the gates under the watchful eye of our HSV friends, I took a lap a bit higher up with our friend Dev, who was camped by the racecourse. HSV provided yummy lunch, and we had time for one more quick lap before heading home. Sunday morning started out sunny, making us worry about snow conditions for the contest. The resident ski crowd at the Iceland all wanted to head up to watch, so Heidi (from NZ), Dave (Canadian BC), Alastair and Marina (England), and I caught a taxi up. We decided on a quick tour before the contest, but as we went up the weather started to turn a bit more ominous. A rumble of thunder helped us decide it was time to head down, just in time to see Luder (Khem’s brother) make his third-place finish. By the time Rajit and Sanjay skied, it was snowing, and we were quite happy to head down soon after seeing Sanjay win his division. All of us looked off in the direction of Rhotang Pass (where the guys were camped) and wondered about conditions up there. Several of us decided to head for Manali for the Ski Village award ceremony and after-party. We ran into our friend Bill, who works for HSV in Delhi, and managed a quick visit before the ceremony finally started. The after-party wasn’t holding our attention, so we headed for Chopsticks for momos and beer.

More Manali Fun

On Monday morning it looked like things might clear… and then it started raining. And kept raining all day. Peter had arranged for me to see the studio of his friend who does Thangka paintings – incredibly detailed Buddhist devotional paintings. The painter’s home sits perched on a hill just south of town, and I could see how it would be a good inspirational setting for an artist, as his studio window looked out over the trees and valley below. He and Peter explained a bit more to me about some of the different forms involved in the Thangkas, and I got to take a close look at the process, as he had two large commissioned works in progress. Afterward, Peter and I headed for the carpet store. Peter has rented out the apartment next to his, and is busy fixing it up as a little guest house, so we picked out some carpet, and then set out to get some money from his daughter Neha to pay for it. On the way we got a call from Bill, and the three of us went up to Peter’s place for some tea and to show Bill the new room. Peter had already painted the walls and sewn a bunch of bright, Tibetan-style curtains, and the next step was the carpet we had selected. The part of town he lives in has more of a quiet village feel (a cow lives on the courtyard below, and Peter jokes that the cow gives an 8am wakeup call) and the rooms overlook the wooded neighborhood, as well as having views of Manali and some of the bigger mountains up the valley. Bill had to run off for a meeting, so Peter and I went to fetch the carpet, and I was going to buy carpet glue before heading back to his place for dinner. I called up to the Iceland to invite some of the other folks for dinner if they wanted to join, only to find that Trevor and the guys had come down early, due to some very sketchy conditions brought on by the weather. And I had the only key to our room. I delivered the glue to Peter, took a rain check on dinner, and ran for the 4 o’clock bus.

The next afternoon, Rob, Tyson, Pepe, Trevor and I headed into town for some shopping, to be followed by dinner at Peter’s. The guys were all thinking about Kashmiri shawls as presents for their wives/girlfriends, and I was thinking of picking up a few to complement the Kullu shawls I’d already bought for Mom’s store. Kullu shawls are all hand-loomed, either wool or wool/angora blend, and they usually have bands of pattern woven into the material. Kashmiri shawls can be wool, angora, silk or cashmere (or a blend) and the focus is much more on the copious amounts of embroidery applied. As a general rule, Kashmir shawls are more expensive (for good quality – particularly cashmere), but this is partly because the dealers are notoriously hard to get a good price from. They also tend to exaggerate the quality, or all-out falsify the materials used. Luckily, we had an introduction to the dealer, and a significantly higher chance of at least knowing what we were buying. We were all ushered into the tiny shop, seated on a bench in front of the raised area the dealer sat on (the stage for his act?) and plied with lemon tea. “Hello! Good day my friends!” He then pulled out what was obviously his sample bundle, and showed us the various materials, qualities, and styles, as well as several inferior materials (so that we’d know to recognize what others might try to sell us, of course). The shawls were beautiful, and the prices started ludicrously high – always typed out on the calculator, of course, never spoken. I did some quick math on what I thought they could be sold for at home, and quickly concluded there was no way it would pencil out. No harm trying, though…. Pepe, Tyson, and Rob came to satisfactory prices, made their purchases, and fled. I was still trying to talk down the price on the four shawls I’d selected. I’d almost settled, when Trevor (who plays a great bad cop) cut in and told me I’d be unhappy later if I settled. This magically made the price come down another 1000 rupees ($25). I said I’d call my mom and ask, and we left, leaving him looking a little disgruntled. (The next morning, I relayed that Mom had said no, and the price dropped a further 500 rupees. After an actual call to Mom, this was deemed acceptable and the deal done.)

After collecting the items Peter requested for dinner (rum, beer, and a chicken – mercifully already dead, plucked, and stored in a refrigerated case), we headed up the hill. Bill joined us as well, and Ryan (and HSV employee from CA who I’d just met at the contest) turned up as well. Punam (and Peter and the girls) cooked up several courses of amazing Tibetan food, capped off by this fantastic mango smoothie dessert (I guess Peter used to run a stand selling them – I really should stop being amazed at just how many things he’s done). Great company and great food. Towards 11 folks started looking a little faded (food coma?), so we called up a taxi and headed home.

Dharamsala

Given the continuing bad weather and unsettled snow conditions up high, the group decided to take a ski-hiatus and head for Dharamsala for some more sight-seeing. Dharamsala is the home of the Dalai Lama, and the seat of the Tibetan government in exile. (Quick history background: In the late 1940s the newly-in-power communist government of China invaded Tibet to “liberate” the people. Tibet is an ancient country, with Buddhist roots going back to at least 600AD, and the pre-invasion culture was deeply Buddhist with hundreds of ancient temples and monasteries. Part of the communist “cultural revolution” involved stamping out religion, and therefore the existing culture of Tibet, a territory they insisted was a traditional part of the motherland. Since then, somewhere around 1.2 million Tibetans have been killed, an almost unimaginable assortment of human rights violations committed, and most of the monasteries destroyed along with ancient scriptures and artworks. The Dalai Lama [who is the spiritual leader of the country] fled to India in 1959 [the same year as Peter’s family], and has been followed by about 250,000 other refugees.) We decided to hire Peter to come with as our guide, and he was kind enough to agree despite the nasty cough he’d been trying to shake. The drive to Dharamsala was exhausting, but incredibly beautiful. We went through at least 3 distinct eco-systems, numerous small settlements surrounded by terraced cultivation, and a mind-boggling number of switchbacks. Several types of trees were in spectacular bloom, including 100+ foot tall rhododendrons! We made a rest-stop near some of them, and we turned around to find Peter half-way up one, picking flowers. He brought them down and bit the base off one bloom, explaining that they were good medicine for his cold. We all gave it a try, and they weren’t bad. It turns out the crazy-steep terraces we were passing were all planted in nearly-ripe wheat, which on the sunnier hillsides was already turning a lovely gold. They definitely looked nothing like the wheat fields I grew up around. Arriving in McLeod Ganj (the village above Dharamsala where the DL resides and most tourists stay), we managed to meet up with Al (from Scotland), Alastair, Marina, Dave, and Frank (Canada), who had headed to Dharamsala a day earlier than us with the same idea of killing some down ski days. We all ate some dinner, and team America headed for bed exhausted.

The next day Peter had plenty of activities planned for us. After breakfast and real coffee (!) at a café (where we said goodbye to the other taxi load from the Iceland, who were already headed back), we piled into the taxi to go up to the local high point for a view. Then we went to the village where Punam grew up for tea and yummy, yummy Nepali bread at her brother’s house, stopping at her sister’s house to take a look at all of the beautiful flowers she grows for sale. We stopped in at a Tibetan school, and walked over to Bhagsu to see the pools where the monks go to swim. In Bhagsu we stumbled upon a pretty crazy temple under construction - they were sculpting some fantastic animals and figures out of cement as they went, and didn't seem to mind our crawling around looking at things. Along the way Peter bought us samples of several kinds of Tibetan food available from the street vendors – momos, mutton sausage, and yummy gelatinous cubes (something to do with cauliflower juice?) called lafing. On the way to the monastery to watch the afternoon debates it started raining fairly hard, and by the time we got there it appeared the session had been called off. We walked around through the temples, and went up to the gate of the Dalai Lama’s home. Peter was part of the DL’s personal guard for 6 months, so knew quite a bit about what went on behind the gates. We walked the very nice paved trail that circles the hill with the monastery and residence. All along the trail are stones carved with Tibetan writing, mostly mantras, that people have had made to leave behind, along with a great number of prayer flags. At the end of the walk there is another temple, with a long series of small prayer wheels, and two of the very large ones. Later we hung out on the balcony of the guesthouse Rob, Pepe and Tyson were staying at, which overlooked some trees and had some interesting bird life – we even saw an owl just after dusk.

Trevor and I opted to get up early the next morning to go hang out at the monastery. We had some nice peaceful time in the courtyard after listening to the monks chanting in a lower room, then walked the prayer circuit again to watch the sun come up over the mountains. At the prayer wheels there was a kind of prayer service going on, with monks leading lay people in chanting. We listening for a while before meeting up with the rest of the guys at their guesthouse for some very good breakfast – I had a fruit pancake that was fantastic. Peter took us to the Norbulingka Institute, half an hour’s taxi ride away. The Institute is set in beautiful gardens, and has a very peaceful feel. Here artisans are trained in traditional Tibetan crafts, and you can watch the artists at work (though we didn’t have time to watch much). There is an impressive museum of dolls dressed to show Tibetan dress from different regions, for different occasions, and during different eras. We spent some time sitting in the temple, an inviting place with padded mats to encourage visitors to sit for a while. Our afternoon was given over to shopping and coffee-drinking, before we met up with Peter again. Trevor, Peter and I had to shift our rooms to another guesthouse (they had too many reservations), and Pepe, Tyson, and Rob moved to a fancier place that had been unavailable the previous two nights. Peter was trying to find his Auntie’s house in the tangle of homes and guesthouses on the hillside, and Trevor wanted to go play cards with the guys, so I opted to follow Peter on the search. After a few dead-end attempts, we finally came across the right place after following a monkey down the hillside, and spent an hour or so visiting with his family. Well, Peter visited in Tibetan. I mostly entertained the kids by letting them take pictures with my digital camera. They were totally indifferent to the end result (picture) – they just liked the flash. His Auntie had actually been very sick, and there was a monk at the house doing a healing ceremony that involved molding little vessels out of flour paste, then adding various grains, rice beer, and lamp oil. Then he went into the prayer room and chanted for a while, occasionally using a bell. Peter’s cousin’s son was apparently working at the family business, so we were sent with an escort to go say hello to him. Down the hill, back through the maze, and down a street we hadn’t been on, we walked up some stairs to what looked like a nightclub. Inside an entirely Tibetan bunch of young guys were playing snooker on three tables and drinking beer. The kitchen brought out an unexpected treat – beef momos. It was a very hush-hush thing. We met up with the gents for dinner, then they went back to their cards and Peter and I made an early night of it.

Our final morning in Dharamsala, we all met up for breakfast and wished Tyson well on his journey home, then hit the road. While waiting for everyone to finish checking out, I wandered into a little stationary store that had an excellent selection of the hand-made paper books and stationary that are made in the area to help support incoming Tibetan refugees. The prices were reasonable and the woman was really helpful, so I walked off with quite a full bag of stuff to send home for the store. The drive home was long, but again beautiful. The route was slightly different, taking us along the Sainj River and more stunning scenery. We were extremely happy to finally get out of the car.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch...

Pepe, Trevor, and Rob headed back up toward Beas Kund a few days ago. The walk in was extremely wet, and Pepe came straight back, figuring that he and all his gear were soaked and he wouldn’t have had a pleasant night. He was going to come out the next day after skiing anyway, so he didn’t miss much. After the initial bad weather, it’s been beautiful the last 2 days, so hopefully they’re getting good turns. Frank went up to join them yesterday. The rest of the crew here has been reading and sunning, with trips into town for variation. Yesterday the whole lot of us went down and met up with Drew and Steph from Stevens Pass (WA) for Korean food at the place Peter took us to a while back. Memory did not deceive – the sushi was just as good as remembered, and they whipped up some kind of spicey Korean iced tea that was fantastic. Today Pepe got on the bus back to Delhi, after a nice month-long visit. The weather didn’t always cooperate for him, but he’s a man who appreciates the mountains as they are, and seems to have had a really great time here.

Many apologies again for the extra-long post… now that everyone’s going home, our sightseeing pace should slow again!

Labels: Dharamsala, India, Kullu Valley, Manali, ski touring, Solang

Well, after camping through one big storm, aborting two other packed-bags attempts due to sudden weather and/or illness, we finally got Gulaba.

With our friend Pepe recently arriving (and bringing that sunny Buenos Aires weather!), we figured the best way to get him acclimatized was to set camp at 3800m and ski our brains out! Mission successful (pictures). Our group consisted of four as while buying supplies in Manali, a clever Wasatch skier figured our gear and grocery shopping meant ski touring! After some quick conversation, Launce invited himself along stating he would try not to be a burden. Far from a burden, he benefited the group and we all had a magnificent time together.

After setting camp day one just after noon, we chilled in our largest lounge yet. Day two we headed east up the basin towards Gulaba Peak. Sure enough, once we reached the long south ridge, we observed another vast basin with a steep gulley below preventing easy access to the true Gulaba Peak. Content to stay focused on our original peak, Em led a steep bootpack up the summit ridge to our West Gulaba Peak, and a new personal elevation record of… we’re not totally sure. Our guide book called it 4600 meters, but my altimeter said 4350. So somewhere in between. Launce and I carried our skis to the top as I had eyed this ridge from camp, Solang, Patalsu’s summit, and knew there was currently enough snow on the ridge to slide from the top. On this summit, we observed what we’ve seen consistently from each high point here…endless more skiing opportunities.

The ski from the top was not super fluid but still very worthwhile. Pepe pulled out the video camera for the bulk of the descent…endless spring turns down the basin. Pepe has successfully gained sponsors from home (a special thanks for all the energy bars and carbo drinks!) and is putting together a video/article for his trip. Down in the basin and knowing that the spring snowpack was very stable, I was anxious to ski one of the steeper lines falling off a bordering ridge into the basin. Launce and I skinned to a prominent high knob and enjoyed some steeper turns. Back at camp, Em was still loving the ease of big mountain spring conditions and talked me into an afternoon tour up the north ridge. Ya, I was a tough sell. Following these fantastic turns, we laid down in the lounge and enjoyed gazing up at hundreds of white butterflies against a backdrop of royal blue sky with periodic white puffy clouds floating by. The butterflies were truly amazing as each afternoon around 2:00, the air seemed to fill with mainly white and some orange wings. As Robo or any avid flyfisherman would say, with excitement…”We’ve got a hatch.”

Day three brought more bluebird weather and this time the group endeavored the north ridge from its high point to low point. Skiing towards the right off the bottom of the ridge, we finally stopped (still with snow below us), after over 1000m of consistent turns. Launce scooted ahead of us on the tour back up to camp as he was going to exit that afternoon. The irony of this day was not only was it the first day we have seen other ski tourers, but we saw three other groups (fortunately all below us!). April is here! We have brought Launce and his newly arrived English ski friends to the Iceland. Launce is pretty dialed into the telemark tips forum and he gave me great news on the Alaska ski guide book I helped the Valdez Telehead get started. He said the book has received great praise from the community and special kudos from fellow guidebook authors such as Lou Dawson. Congrats Matt Kinney!!!!!!!!!!!

That afternoon I still had some energy and with the weather and conditions bomber, chose to go ski the south ridge above the basin. More tasty treats!

Day four we all had short morning skis before packing up. Pepe skied the south ridge solo with us finally doing the filming and Em and I had another lap on the north ridge. After some lounging and lunch, we threw the large packs on and enjoyed 1000m of spring turns down to the dirt line. Right as we hit the dirt line, we saw a base camp of three large tents and heard a voice yelling…”Emily…Trev.” Our Ski Village friends had set base camp, continuing to teach skiing and preparing for a ski contest ten days away. So, we accepted the traditional offering of chai and boasted some local culture to Pepe - a fitting end to a phenomenal ski trip.

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring

We finally put more pictures up – our hike to the waterfall this afternoon, Trevor and Joe’s experience at the Festival in Burruwa (in the Solong Winter folder), 3 surprise days of skiing at the local hill, and some pictures of life here at the Iceland.

We had been planning five days of camping up on Gulaba, and had our bags packed and a taxi hired for the morning of the 20th. Morning dawned with another snowstorm, so we scratched that idea. The next day was sunny, but we didn’t think the road to Gulaba would be open, so Trevor and I walked to Manali. We took the scenic route through the villages and orchards on the west bank of the Beas, and enjoyed friendly faces, plentiful bird life, and greening fields set against a backdrop of freshly snow-covered mountains.

With the clock ticking on Joe’s time in Solang (he had a ticket for the 1-day cricket match in Delhi the 28th) we decided we’d better get him up into the mountains one more time. Our bags were still packed, so we set out for Dhundi and Beas Kund on the morning of the 22nd. We planned to set camp further up the valley than on our last trip. There comes a point in the tour when the valley narrows, and a choice needs to be made between touring up the river bed, or taking a high route over some benches to the right. Our choice to take the high route didn’t work out particularly well. Several harrowing hours, nasty gullies, and difficult-to-traverse debris fields later, we set camp well short of our intended destination. It’s hard to complain about the site, though. Trevor and I agreed that it might be the most beautiful spot we’ve ever camped, with sheer rock cliffs, hanging glaciers, the river below, and Hanuman Tiba presiding at the head of the valley.

Morning brought bluebird skies and the sun on our tent at 7am. We set out for Beas Kund, but topography and avy considerations taken into account, we decided we were not in a position to make the tour. So we did a quick lap of the slope above us on some nice spring snow, and went back to camp for some serious lounging. We dug an L-shaped couch (complete with coffee table) and added the sleeping pads. Sunny, snacking, card-playing perfection, with an incredible view.

At dusk we were just finished eating dinner in the tent (protein nuggets in soup with pasta – yummy!) when we heard very strange noises coming from outside the tent, near the cliffs above our campsite. Somewhere between a goat, a hawk, and a dying crow…a repeated bleating/cawing that we didn’t know what to think of. Trevor made the excellent point that it would be better to check it out while there was still enough light to see, so I headed outside. I saw motion a few hundred feet up the hill – what looked like a fox. Joe and Trevor got outside the tent in time to see it make its way – stopping several times to look back at us – across the hillside and away from us. A few hours later we heard the same strange noise again. (A Google search has since revealed that foxes do make noise exactly like what we heard - who knew?) Overcast skies and a chilly wind convinced us the next morning that we should head home, and we had an interesting and enjoyable exit ski along the river. By the time we got home, it had gone from drizzling to raining, and it rained, snowed, and hailed for the next three days.

This afternoon we took a hike to a lovely waterfall just across the valley. We didn’t even know it was there until our friend Dev recommended we check it out. We started out after lunch, spotting one of the most interesting birds I’ve seen here before we even crossed the Beas - the hoopoe has eye-catching black stripes on its wings and back, and an impressive fan-shaped crest on its head. We continued on over the bouncy wooden bridge and through the boulder field of the river bed. The falls are not far from Old Solang, but even though you get a glimpse of them on the trail to the village, they are not exactly easy to get to. We tried the direct route first – following the stream up into a fantastic gorge, with ferns and flowers growing out of the overhanging rock walls. As the gorge narrowed, we couldn’t go any further. We retraced our steps, going around up through the village and over the ridge above. Views of Friendship peak over blooming yellow mustard crops, flocks of mountain finches performing synchronized aerials, and purple wildflowers clustered around every stream we crossed would have made the route worthwhile regardless, but we eventually rounded a corner to see the falls tucked back in a narrow valley, with sheer rock walls behind. We displaced a couple of kestrels, likely there in pursuit of the flock of snow pigeons cautiously foraging at the edge of a few patches of snow on the hillside. Two piles of pigeon-colored feathers (one in the lower gorge, one right by the falls) attested to the kestrels’ success. After sunning ourselves on a rock just outside the spray of the falls, we headed home for dinner.

Tomorrow we hope to head up to Gulaba again… wish us luck for better weather than the last two times!

Labels: hiking, Iceland Hotel, India, Kullu Valley, ski touring, Solang, Solang Valley, wildflowers

Before I begin, we wanted to update people that the posts and photos will unfortunatley become a littel less punctual as we lost internet access in Solang. While things were all too good with Khem (our hotel owner) allowing us to use his computer at our leisure, his hard drive is not working. We are in the big city of Manali right now and wanted to send a shout out about the last couple weeks...Tibetan stories, festivals, and ya, skiing.

We had a surprisingly good authentic Korean meal in Old Manali with our Tibetan friend Peter a while back and continue to be impressed with his stories and optimistic outlook on life. Besides a most adventurous tale of him trying to get into Tibet, he entertained us with a tale of his first, and only, visit to the ocean. Some friends brought him fishing south of Calcutta where he experienced "low elevation sickness." He hadn't been on the water 10 minutes before he got queezy and experienced "low elevation sickness." Classic. The adventurous one, he attempted to go back out to sea the next day, this time fighting off the lowland bug by going into the cabin and sleeping. He awoke later to step on the deck in complete confusion..."where are the houses, what is going on, where are the houses." Peter was then taught how to cook lobster, which was almost as painful for him. When the captain instructed him to drop the lobster in the boiling water, Peter frieked. "Hell, I can not put that thing in hell." Yes, in Tibet, boiling water is considered part of the devil's playground and it is considered extremely bad luck to put any living thing in boiling water or fire. While there was much laughter, we also learned some more sobering things about Peter's family and other Tibetans living in India. Although Peter and his daughters were born in India, they have no passports, must check in with the police if they travel out of their district, and yet are all very appreciative of the freedoms they do have. It definitely made me ponder how we could help him out. I don't know if he would ever want to leave the Manali area as he does have good family and friends here, but his work ethic and personality would thrive in the great USA.

Joe and I attended a local festival last Sunday with the friends we've met from that village. Em chose to miss out as her stomach was a little questionable and we thought we might be treated to lots of local food and drink. This thought was correct. With our contacts not exactly the religous types, I can not explain much about the tradition or purpose of the festival. But we did visit the temple to watch the "he-devil" and "she-devil" dance around. After that we went to a friend's home for some dal and rice wine. We were escorted into a cozy living room with blankets and pads set up around the walls where we would all sit with the rice wine and local food circling in the center. This trend was consistent at the next five houses we visited and our hosts did a good job to make sure the westerners always had something to eat and drink. After about five full dinners, we fortunately were relieved of food from the kitchen. Then the singing and dancing began. It was especially cool because the ringleader of the singer was consistently Hira La - the GS skier who represented Indian in Turino a month ago.

Then came the Holi festival on March 14. This festival consists of colors - throwing colors on anyone or thing that moves. We were in Solang and nervous we didn't have any paints to throw. Well, to our great surprise, the gods delivered us our favorite color - WHITE. The morning rain turned to snow midday and it then snowed for the next day and a a half. Turns out Solang was pretty dead as far as any color throwing went and we sat in the Iceland, playing cards, and getting excited that we just may be skiing from our front door again.

So, the last three mornings have been skiing. There is over 3' of new just a few hundred feet above Solang. Yesterday, we found some cold smoke on a steep north aspect early morning and then spent the afternoon on the patio in short sleeves and sandals. Ya, life is OK.

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring, Solang

I’ve been meaning to write a bit more about our day-to-day here: where we’re staying, some of the local sights and oddities, etc., but first I need to get to our latest expedition – I set a personal record! Trevor had already reached the summit of Patalsu twice, but it was not only my first summit of the mountain, but at 4100 meters, the highest I’ve ever reached under my own power, and definitely the highest I’ve ever skied (pictures). I know Trevor usually does the ski posts, so forgive my lack of technical detail, but I’m really excited about this one.

We were planning to set out on the 5th, but put off our departure after looking at the weather forecast. We have three different sources for online weather here, and the three rarely agree, and only occasionally reflect reality. But our interpretation paid off, and we ended up with a very nice weather window leaving on the 6th. The first part of the trip was on dirt until well after Old Solang. Joe came along for the hike to the snowline, and was kind enough to carry my ski boots up, and our hiking boots back down, which made the hike much nicer. Skinning up through the trees is really beautiful – what we think they call oak here is actually an interesting broadleaf evergreen tree, with small, round, leathery leaves that are dark green on top and yellow underneath. This forest provides winter cover for a number of larger pheasants, grouse-like birds and quail. My first encounter with the HP state bird – the Himalayan Monal – reminded me a lot of running into a grouse at home. A bird about the size of a chicken exploded out of some low cover 5 feet in front of me, making a high screaming call at the same time. When my heart started beating again, I noticed that it was a beautiful bird flying away, though all of their iridescent purples, blues and greens are much more dramatic in the sun.

We set camp above most of the trees at about 3300 meters, which put us into excellent position for summitting the next day. It started snowing lightly just after dinner, and I had a sense of Gulaba-vu, hoping we wouldn’t end up snowed in the next day instead of skiing off the summit. We woke up to only a couple of inches of “dust on crust”, and took off skinning at 8. It was tough going with the new snow slipping over the firm layer underneath on every traverse, but we had a gorgeous bluebird morning. We crossed over several sets of fox tracks, and saw tracks that were probably snowcocks. At about 11, with the snow getting sticky on our skins but still slipping, and the altitude taking its toll, I thought seriously about whether or not I would make it to the top. We had a break 600 meters below the summit for some water and one of our carefully rationed Clif bars, and then decided to continue. I made a mental bargain that it couldn’t possibly be more than 1000 steps more to the summit, and sticky snow or not, I could surely manage that. With Trevor behind me trying not to laugh at the extra 5 pounds of snow stuck to the bottom of each of my skis, I made it to the summit one step at a time. 896 (more) steps, to be exact.

The summit itself is pretty cool. You can skin all the way to the top, and then find yourself on a fairly narrow peninsula of snow a little over a meter across, with steep dropoffs on three sides. I was moving very, very carefully while we had our snack and took our skins off for the descent. The ski down was amazing – my legs were burning by the time we got back to camp. Trevor dug us a little snow couch, and we had a game of rummy in the sun, until a cloud settled in and made it just chilly enough to head in.

The next morning we set out to ski the ridge, and made excellent time back up the mountain with much friendlier skinning conditions. The new snow from the day before had been warmed by the sun and frozen hard with a rough surface, perfect for gripping skins. Cooler temps slowed the softening of the snow, and we relaxed for 45 minutes at our high point of 3850 meters on the ridgeline while waiting for the sun to do its work. While we were hanging out, Trevor noticed something very unfortunate: the part of my binding that locks my heel down to descend was broken. (We’ve since heard from Caley at Pro Ski that this is not an unusual problem, and they’re going to ship us a replacement heel piece ASAP. Pro Ski rocks.) We were still able to get me locked down for the descent, which was possibly even a better ski than the day before – like velvet.

After packing up camp, we had a nice descent to the treeline, and even through the trees, to our surprise. We saw the female monal (she was kind enough to make her noisy takeoff before we were right up to her) and managed to descend on snow all the way to our skins-on point from two days before. The steep hike down in ski boots was less than enjoyable, but when we finally dragged our aching feet into the Iceland (home sweet home) Trevor put in an order for chai and finger chips (french fries, freedom fries, whatever…), which were promptly delivered to our room, and the hot water was on enabling us to take scalding hot showers. Overall a very successful mission, followed by a lovely homecoming.

Speaking of the Iceland, I don’t know if we’d said much about where we’re staying. From the outside, it’s a fairly plain looking, 3-story, green-and-white concrete box. Inside, it’s really very cozy. We’ve been staying in #9, on the top floor. The rooms have red carpet, pale wood paneling set in interesting patterns cover all the walls, and the ceiling is wooden beams and paneling painted white. Our window looks down the valley at the cliff wall where the Beas river descends toward the entrance of the Rhotang Valley, so we see cliff, trees, and the goings-on and laundry at the neighbor’s house below us. Khem, the owner, has been extremely nice to us, and all of his employees have been very good as well. Singh, the cook, is a gem. The prospect of going somewhere else and having to eat our own cooking does not appeal after he’s been taking care of us. We usually get omelets in the morning (cheese for me, plain or veg for Trev) and some plain parathas (a sort of leathery flatbread that’s amazingly heavy and filling). Lemon tea is one of our morning favorites, and the regular (milk, black, or spiced masala) tea (chai) is good, but the coffee is Nescafe, so we don’t get that often. A typical day here sees at least 4 or 5 rounds of tea. Lunch is usually cheese sandwiches and fingerchips, or chowmein, or some soup. We could order specific dishes for dinner, but we usually just say dinner for however many of us there are, and they bring out some rice and chapati (different kind of flat bread – lighter than parathas) along with three different dishes – always a dal (lentil) and/or bean dish, usually something with veggies and potatoes, and then a third thing, usually a curry but varies quite a bit from peas and mushrooms, to curd, to the stuffed peppers we had the other night. All of which is ordered up and served by a small flock of young 20-something local employees referred to collectively as “the boys” (their term, not ours). The dining room is very nice, with 270 degrees of mountain views, a huge propane space heater, and satellite TV, quite often tuned to cricket, but with several English-language movie and news channels (actually way more channels that either of us are used to).

We also have the option of letting “the boys” do our laundry, in which case everything comes back ironed and folded, even our underwear. It is a little expensive for how we’re trying to live (10 rupees per item, 8 for a pair of socks – the dollar being worth 42 rupees at our last exchange) so we’ve just been doing our own by hand in the bucket that comes with every bathroom here. It’s a bit of work with a big load, but not too bad when the hot water is on. The hot water schedule (there is a central boiler) is baffling, but we’ve gotten used to not counting on it, so the hot showers 2 or 3 times a week when it coincides with our schedule are a nice treat. If we need to get clean and it’s not on, one of the boys brings up a bucket of hot water and pours it into the bucket in our room. There’s a little plastic 2-pint cup that comes in handy for “bucket baths” that way.

The village where we’re staying is mostly new buildings around a set of 5 or 6 concrete guest houses/hotels, while “Old Solang” sits across the river up on the hillside. Aside from a few houses scattered in between, there isn’t much going on when there aren’t many tourists around, like now. We do get bus service here a couple times a day, so the 45 minute ride to Manali is fairly easy and very cheap (10 rupees). If we miss the bus here, we can walk half an hour to Palchan and only pay 7 rupees for the bus, which comes there maybe 6 times a day. Some of the bus times are more fixed than others, though, and more than once we’ve been left wondering how we managed to miss it. Aside from the lack of chickens and goats, the buses are about what you might think. Aging, decorated with all kinds of artistic flourishes, and skillfully maneuvered around hairpin mountain turns by the drivers, who are assisted by a sort of conductor who goes around and collects the money, and signals the driver to stop and go for pickups and dropoffs through liberal use of a whistle. One whistle means someone wants off. Two means it’s ok to go. When the driver needs to back up the bus, some code of almost continuous short whistles tells the driver to keep backing (we think) and also serves to warn pedestrians (at least in our case).

Speaking of the bus, we need to get things together and catch the next one. We’re on our way into town to meet up with some friends for dinner at Chopsticks – the yummy Tibetan place. Hopefully all is well for all of you. Namaste!

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, Patalsu, ski touring

Well, before I go into detail on a most epic ski tour, I will describe our overall moods: contentment. While sipping chai waiting for the bus to Manali yesterday, Em and I realized we are feeling very comfy about our situation and just how happy we are at the Iceland Hotel in Solang. The weekly trip to Manali for supplies and to say hello to some friends is always refreshing, but the peacefulness and mountain intimacy of Solang is all too satisfying. We also mentioned the fact we never really experienced the 4-week mark of homesickness we were so forewarned would happen. No complaints there. I won’t kid anybody as we both admitted during some of our gastrointestinal bouts that the thought of mom’s couch crossed both our minds.

With an unknown change in the bus schedule, we missed the last bus to Solang and headed to Himanshu’s German Bakery to get the keys to the cottage (our Manali base). There we met up with a couple others and soon were invited to Peter’s family’s home to celebrate the Tibetan New Year with them. Ya, we were glad we missed the bus. After displacing shoes, we entered the front door to a smiling grandmother repeating “Hello, Namaste” while spinning her prayer wheel. We were then guided to the “decorative” room where we shared in good luck traditions, drank rice wine, and ate various courses of food. Peter and his brother explained their parents exit from Tibet in 1959 before the Chinese invasion stripped more of their souls. They travelled by foot for one month south of Mt. Everest, through Nepal, then into India only eating grains from a local plant mixed with water. It was apparent how much love Peter had for this far away homeland that he probably has never seen. He was born in Dharamsala, went through the Indian army, and now is a mountaineering guide. Fantastic person with consistent optimism but last night did expose a deeper desire to leave exile and live in his own free country someday. Em and I better understood Peter’s frustration as we just finished a biography of the current Dalai Lama which also described the historical events of Tibet and China.

We returned to Solang today to lounge in the sunshine on the patio with only sounds of the river and young children playing next door.

O.K., now to the epic ski tour. I will prelude what’s coming by stating that any weather forecast is few and far between and the available forecasts are often wrong. With that said, it was time to get up high for a few days. The tour began with a surprise road blockade many kilometers below what was guaranteed by multiple sources in Solang and our taxi driver. With the taxi driver getting no love from the army (they wouldn’t even look at him while he was pleading to let him go further), Joe and I tried the rupee bribe to no avail (but they did look at us and respond!). Soon an army personnel of much higher authority drove by and gave us a ride to the snowline. Yeah! With a wicked wind rushing through Rohtang Pass down the gorge, we did our best to walk upright the first couple kilometers. Then with skins on, we climbed out of the wind and set camp. Joe and I explored higher for some late day turns. The next day started with clear skies but got gray as we moved camp higher. We were finally forced to throw up our shelter around 3800m as the blowing snow had reduced the visibility to under 10 meters. We played some cards, had some tea and soup, and looked forward to a break in the weather to really set camp. No break, so we called our resting place camp and did most of the reinforcing from inside the megamid.

The megamid is not really a tent, but rather a strong pyramid-shaped rainfly held up by a center pole and 8 corners that you anchor into the snow. It is very lightweight, provides lots of square footage underneath if willing to dig for it, and my preferred shelter for ski touring. It is also not really meant for harsh winter conditions, but with regular maintenance the megamid proved this trip it can handle even a harsh Himalayan storm.

That first night we experienced multiple sessions of lightning directly overhead and high winds. Not getting much sleep, I wandered from holding the center pole for reinforcement to not wanting to touch it as lightning might strike the pole. Ya, lovely. The next day was no better and we only left the tent to dig snow away from the walls. While we were in a very safe location as far as out of any potential avalanches, we were on a flat terrace that collected tons of windblown snow coming up the ridge. Late that day, spirits started to get tested. I was worried as our site had become a deep hole that would continue to become quickly filled with blowing snow. It needed to stop snowing. We did our best clearing of snow and provided a deep trench around the tent so snow had room to slide off the walls and not build up. But in the storm we were in, deep trenches were quickly filled.

At around 1:00 a.m., the snow had crept almost half way up the walls and I questioned how much more weight the megamid could hold. So, it was time to get into the frozen gear and do some shoveling. To make things more fun, my stomach was beginning to do a familiar rumbling followed by burps that concluded what would be coming in my near future. Yes, the nasty that I had already lived through. I strategized what I would do when the gut demanded relief and quite honestly was very concerned for my tentmates. While Em and I lived through it together, I feared for our friend Joe. I had to muster some serious mental game. Fortunatelty, the storm seemed to let up and next thing I knew it was 5:00 a.m. I awoke due to the sudden need of you know what and did my best to get into frozen pants, coat, and boots. The boots proved to take a few seconds too long and I barely got the tent zipper down before losing some stomach just outside the tent. A few minutes later I returned to the tent singing “Taking care of business” as I knew both Joe and Em had lots of empathy for me. My next statement also added to their relief as I sincerely told them my visit outside was very satisfying…not just for the intestinal relief but for the fact that the sky was clear, stars were aplentiful, and there was no wind. Very nice.

Two hours later, I awoke again to take care of more business. Rather than in a frenzy, I stepped out of the tent and immediately returned to grab the closest camera. What I saw that morning was one of the most beautiful mountain mornings I’ve seen: bluebird, tons of new snow, and the sun’s early beams adding a pink hue to only the tops of the two 6000m+ peaks across the valley. (Sorry but the camera was Joe's and not shown here). Walking over to the ridge on the west (in about 3’ of windblown snow), I saw that new snow had accumulated even below Solang (over 4500’ below our camp). This is great news for many reasons. Mainly, my mental game was on and I knew it was time to go higher for some morning turns. Our aspect was primarily windblown and I could see there were some mellow slopes that would be safe to ski. To my campmates astonishment, I returned to the tent and urged them to get up, we would climb to warm up, ski Himalayan pow, then return to a warm camp to dry gear, veg and prepare for the heavy pack descent. It was cold at first, but our friend the sun quickly appeared. Knowing what sort of storm we just experienced and that stability would not be good, we stayed to very low angle slopes. Coming to a slightly steeper slope (still under what is usually capable to slide), I dug a pit and found very unstable conditions. We called that our high point and ate up the freshies down to camp. Having too much fun leaving trails of cold smoke, we did another lap before vegging at camp. In only those couple hours and even above 12,500 feet, the sun still was surprisingly strong. I had my shirt off while melting snow, eating lunch, and letting gear dry.

We all shared in our amazement in how much better the day was than expected. I was stoked that the team happily chose to turn around due to instability and impressed with everyone’s mountain skills as we did just survive a pretty nasty storm. The cohesiveness in our team has been top notch and the English bloke continues to surprise me with his natural comfort in the mountains.

The final descent with large packs went way better than expected as even though the snow got heavier down low, its consistency allowed us to lay confident turns for over 3500’. Check out that girl in the photo…a T-shirt with a heavy pack???? Wow, that is one confident skier. You can only imagine how fortunate I feel that my life partner is quickly becoming a strong ski partner.

We skied all the way down to the circus of yaks, snowmobiles, and fake fur coats and met our planned taxi ride back to Solang. Now that is good access. Click here for photos.

Besides feeling content that we are back down in Solang after that storm, we are sincerely very happy with our overall situation as we continue to share priceless experiences.

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring, Solang

With the weather remaining warm and dry, it was time to utilize the Megamid and spend a few days exploring up high. We decided to head up the Solang Valley and do a couple day tours from camp (photos). Em and I had the multi-day gear to provide for the four touring gringos, but we knew it would require some extra shovel time to make sleeping under the Megamid comfy.

Hearing a local trekking guide talk about utilizing horses to carry gear, we thought the idea sounded not only romantic, but much less laborious. With the road cleared of snow due to the massive tunnel project, we didn’t care too much to spend the first few kilometers walking on mud with skis on our back. So at 9:00 a.m. our horse wallahs and horses showed up outside our hotel. These first 6 km were quite leisurely. We then strapped the packs on and headed another 3 km up the valley.

Setting camp was far from quick as we knew we needed to dig out a lot of snow and the snowpack below 1 foot was extremely hard. After two hours of maximizing the strength of our metal shovels, we were content.

The next day Kelly decided to bail back to Solang due to inadequate gear and being too cold at night. An avid mountaineer, Kelly unfortunately had his overnight gear stashed in Delhi. Joe was stoked as he gained another sleeping bag and pad for the second night. We had a leisurely morning, heading out of camp at 10:00 a.m. for Beas Kund. The tour up the valley was fantastic as Em led us through big terrain with the views continuously improving. From Beas Kund, we all eyed endless ski lines and enjoyed the surrounding beauty. Here are some numbers to relate the massiveness of our surroundings: Beas Kund sits at the head of the valley and a little over 4000’ higher than where we began in Solang towards the foot of the valley. Rising another 7500’ above Beas Kund is Hanuman Tibba. Uhhh….ya, massive.

This day was much more about the tour than the turns as most of the north facing aspects we skied back to camp were variable at best. We all managed to find a few good powder turns, but mainly it was hoping we didn’t break through the crust.

The next night at camp proved to be much more comfortable with only three of us but yet a little more eventful. At some point in the middle of our slumber, we awoke by a hungry animal sticking his head in the tent. Pre-dawn the next morning as Joe and I prepared to depart camp, I heard Joe looking away from me mumbling “Well hello there,” followed by “there are some small beasties over there with green eyes.” Sure enough, we had three creatures sleeping about 20 meters from the tent just waiting for us to leave camp. With Em planning to sleep this tour out and hope the rumbling in her stomach settles, (we have both been getting used to abnormal rumblings) she was not excited to hear that hungry “beasties” were waiting outside. Determining that they were dogs (wild dogs who strayed 9 km from Solang into the alpine), we chased them off as best we could. With Em feeling safe but deservedly upset that her extra sleep would be thwarted by watching guard, Joe and I headed up the south facing slope above camp. Unfortunatey, we both forgot our cameras in the tent, so all we have for pictures is this one showing our route.

We made great time up, beating our turn around time by over half an hour. We still chose to stop just below the true top of the run as conditions were softening rapidly. To our enjoyment, the turns stayed great the entire 1100 m (~3500') and we never experienced the slopfest we expected. This was due to the steepest section being at top and then the slope turning more towards the southwest than south for the bottom half. Conclusion: great spring turns from top to bottom.

As I neared camp, and Emily who was sunning about 50 m above the shady tent, I noticed one of the small beasties another 50 m above her, both in sort of a staring standoff. As I skied towards the dog, I startled him with my speed and he whimpered while trying to sprint away. Not quick enough for skis as I caught him and delivered a solid thump to his backside with a polo swing from my ski pole. Em was happy as the dog finally went away and her knight in shining armor returned safely.

We had a leisurely time breaking down camp, melting more snow, and eating lunch in the sunshine before the dreaded march back. The walk went quicker than expected with a surprise visit from a familiar looking face. One of the dogs, and yes, the one I thumped, joined us on the road back, again hoping for food, appearing not nearly as wild and rabid. All we could do was laugh, contemplate giving him an extra cookie, and carry on.

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring, Solang

With no new snow since the 2m dump and the sun scary warm for the heart of winter, it was time to get up a bit higher (for latest exploits since we arrived in Solang, please see the post below as this is a 2 post night!). I was mostly interested in learning what the snowpack and conditions were like up high, but of course wanted to have the summit attempt possible. So at 4:30 a.m., the gringo ski touring team of Em, myself, Kelly, and Joe met outside our hotel and started the methodical march up Patalsu (photos). The stars were out and we made great progress by the time the eastern horizon started lighting up.

Without climbing a bunch since arriving, Em and I were both impressed with how well good we felt. Joe has been skiing around Solang for almost a month and I knew his excitement for the top was a real possibility. Above treeline, with Kelly feeling "knackered" and Em knowing there will be plenty of days to summit Patalsu when she is better acclimatized to altitude, we decided to split into two groups. We all trudged another 300 m into the alpine together before I gave Em our first public kiss in India (yeehaa) and Joe and I departed them at around 3600m. The sun was on us as Patalsu's ascent/descent is south to southwest facing, but still not too damaging. The skinning continued to be fast on top of a firm snowpack. Taking one final break at 3900 m, we skinned to a most beautiful summit a little after noon. The summit was a 1 m wide ridge caked in snow and quite perfect for a small group.

The views were truly amazing. In most big ranges I visit, the expectations can sometimes falsely minimize the vastness of the surrounding peaks. There was nothing minimal about the mountains in all directions around us. With the vegetation primarily ending in the Kullu Valley where we are staying, the high plateau to the north was caked in whiteness while the steep southern side of the Solang Valley presented mean rock and hanging glaicers. Hanuman Tibba at the end of the Solang Valley was in view all day and never lost our respect. Looking south towards Hampta and Jagatsukh valleys, it was relieving to know that even with the currently low snowpack, the alpine still boasts tons of great skiing.

Not only is it a novelty to ski to the true summit of a 4200m peak, but also quite special to make powder turns off the top. Thank you altitude. After enjoying some winter powder, we experienced a brief section of a thin crust before it softened to give us almost 800m of easy spring turns. Large. While feeling great on the ascent, it was tough to make more than 15 turns without losing my breath.

After a steep skin over a ridge disecting the main face we skied and our ascent route, Joe and I met back up with Em and Kelly. Fearing they had waited longer than desired and would be a little upset that the remaining 500m of skiing might be too soft, we were pleasantly thrilled that they were more than content chillin in the Himalayan alpine under the warm Indian sun and even encouraged us to take a good break. After some soft slush through beautifully spaced trees, we booted down through the old village of Solang and over the bridge back to our hotel. Bahut bahut accha!!!

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring, Solang

If it seems like we haven't posted in a bit, it's true. We moved up-valley, to a smaller town with a much more laid-back attitude, phenomenal ski access (and initially much less internet access). We made the move last Sunday thinking we'd be here for 3 days, and today we went down to Manali to get more of our stuff in order to settle in to Solang (pictures) for a longer stay.

We headed north and up on India's Republic Day to find our intended hotel (The Iceland) completely booked up. The Friendship looked like the next best option, so we ended up taking a room there. The room came with a wood stove and firewood each night, which we fully took advantage of - with the fire our warmest nights since arriving in Himachal Pradesh. If the rooms were a bit run-down, and the kerosene used to start the fire were less than optimal, we were just excited to be here and ready to ski. Our first afternoon we took a little tour up above the ski lift (which covers approximately 75 feet of vertical over 100 yards), and immediately felt the altitude. Solang is at ~2400 meters (~8000 feet), compared to Manali at ~2000 meters. The little ski slope at Solang is really a bit of a circus, and the best part of touring on the hill may be the local entertainment. Tons of Indians (many of them honeymooners) come here to see snow for the first time, and the ensuing chaos/excitement is fantastic. Many of them rent rubber galoshes and either full-length fur coats or fantastically colored snowmobile suits from road-side stands in order to be properly outfitted for snow-play. Locals rent out (mostly ancient) ski gear and offer lessons to first-time snow enthusiasts, who seem completely uninterested in anything as boring as the snowplow, and spend much of their time in a determined racing tuck (on a 10 degree slope) with their instructors pushing them up or down-hill. Tea stands abound, yaks are decoratively placed so tourists can pay to have their picture taken with or on them, and a truly wicked tubing slope operates right above the throng with complete disregard for who might be in the way at the time. The final liability factor is the paragliding operation that occasionally sends a client down right on top of the whole mess - skiers, tourists, yaks and all.

Retiring to our rooms, we were pleasantly surprised when the waiter/bellhop/floor scrubber appeared with our wood and proceeded to start a roaring (if stinky) fire. Shortly after that, he returned to tell us that our dinner was ready (did we order food?). In the dining room, we met up with another visiting ski tourer from England, who'd been living at the Friendship for about 2 weeks, and had the system figured out. As the small mountain of food arrived (2 dishes each, plus more rice than we could eat, plus chapatis - soft flat bread), Joe explained that if you didn't specifically order, and didn't let them know you'd be eating elsewhere, they just brought you a lot of food. Which gets added to your bill.

Day 2 we decided to ski tour up to Dhundi, still further up the valley, to scope out the approaches to a few ski tours. Our ski-touring guidebook described a lovely approach via a nice flat road covered in snow. Since publication there's been a new development: The Tunnel. India's little row with Pakistan over Kashmir has resulted in a need for troops and supplies to the north of where we are - an area effectively blocked off by high, snow-bound passes (like Rhotang Pass near us) for up to 6 months a year. The solution? A 17k tunnel right through the heart of some really massive mountains. Unfortunately for our peaceful tour, the Indians are so keen on the tunnel idea that they're employing work crews year-round to improve the existing road to the mouth of the planned tunnel (unfortunately the road we wanted to ski up). This involves first clearing away the snow with a bulldozer (no easy task when a meter of snow needs to be cleared off 7k of roads just to get to Dhundi, then maybe 2 or 3k more to the tunnel site), then blasting away the banks bounding the road, then letting crews of Nepali workers break any big rocks into pieces using sledgehammers, then using the smaller pieces to gravel the road. We were mostly contending with the clearing process on our tour (either bootpacking the already cleared part, trying to stay ahead of the dozer on the partially cleared part, then finally having a couple of klicks of peaceful touring when the machine slowed for a difficult part). Dhundi was pretty inspiring. The views of Hanuman Tibba, Friendship Peak, and the Beas Kund tour made us anxious to bring our camping gear up to settle in for a few days. We skipped the dozer conflict on the way home by touring via the river most of the way, which worked out quite nicely.

Since our first couple days in Solang, we've moved over to the Iceland (much nicer - and fantastic food), and met up with Kelly, a crazy Canadian staying there. We four ski-touring gringos have had a few hikes, some touring up above the lift, and one really fantastic ski tour up Patalsu (post coming - maybe tonight).

So to summarize: we love Solang, the folks at the Iceland are fantastic, we've been playing way too many hands of cards with Kelly and Joe, and tomorrow we've volunteered to help out with a local youth ski competition up on the hill. Things are going quite nicely indeed.

Labels: India, Kullu Valley, ski touring, Solang