Not Kareri Lake

Dinner on the roof of the bakery 

Get up at 4:08 AM, make Tibetan honey and peanut butter sandwiches, eat chocolate croissants, walk to the the taxi place, Mahi picks us up and drives us past the hotel manuvinot, hike down to the river, find a jeep to take us up the mountain on very rough roads, to Kareri village, playing Punjabi music, great time, only 7:30. 

Take a trail up the mountain, wrong trail, talk to Gaddi shepherd, go back down, stop at a purple house, and speak to a lovely young girl who keeps a solemn silence, but offers her brown dog who accompanies us for hours, and cannot be discouraged. After exploring several other trails, we settle on a stony steep path up the mountain, covered I dried Rhodendron leaves. It is not now, we are tired and discouraged by how far we have traveled in the wrong direction. I tell long stories about Frank Mason, schools, and arcane studies to cheer them up. Eventually we see a red flag on top of a boulder...none of the trails are  marked, a red flag below a green ridge. We head back to the forest to try and find the path to the river, and wafer, we consult the map (not to scale), finally deciding to climb the beautiful ridge in the hot sun, water running out. We climb and climb.  I brake the spell holding the dog to us by throwing rocks at it, which it understands exactly.  We climb and climb, 

Eventually seeing some primitive stone shelters. A large group of sheep and lambs runs, in mass, to meet me, and three bright clad figures watch from a rocky perch. These Gaddi shepherds speak no English, but generously refill our empty water bottles with cold water. 

After a long hike up the ridge, we return to the shepherds and the woman brings us hot milk tea in a silver cup milk from one of the goats, hot and tasting like wood smoke, evoking ancient stories. 

The amazing green hilltop camping spot, overlooking the valley, just above the shepherds, just below the mountains.

Morning hike up the ridge to find a view of the pass and the elusive great Himalaya range. As I walk I remember the warm smile of the shepherd as she handed me a cup of milk tea, sweet and pungent with wood smoke. It was like the mountain ridge covered  in grass and white stones was their home, and they were welcoming us, with water and hot tea. 

The shrine at the end of the trial down.The jeep ride back to the trail up 

Sunday night dinner.