Ski Trekking Part One

Currently Manali is rather quiet as its just before the main tourist season so half of the shops and bars are still closed. This calm period is a pleasant change from the hustle and bustle of Delhi but does mean there are very few places to go for a bite to eat and a beer. Virtually the only place where people seem to go is a bar at the end of the narrow dirt track from our accommodation called Shesh Besh, a popular hangout for western travellers looking for recognisable food, music and a bit of ambiance. There are chess and backgammon sets on the tables to keep the customers entertained whilst their food is being prepared, which is served by a friendly man who says “good morning!” every time he sees you regardless of the time of day.


One night eating at Shesh Besh we bumped into a group of guys mostly from the UK and one from the US who were looking forward to going rock climbing the following day. It was clear like us they were tired of traipsing around temples and forts and needed some adrenaline to raise their spirits. They mentioned that there was a ‘ski trekking’ expedition in a couple of days time that they were planning on doing. They would trek up above the snow line with guides and Sherpa’s and camp for two nights and ski in the daytime. To me this sounded like an event not to be missed, yet Laura was less excited by the prospect and couldn’t see how hiking up steep hills with a heavy rucksack could possibly be fun.

After spending the past 3 months snowboarding in Les Arcs it was going to be a hard sell for me to convince Laura to join the ski trekking expedition. But for some reason possibly just so I can say that I have, I really wanted to do some turns on Himalayan snow. The three day trek was out of the questions but we went to the office where the trek was being organised and arranged to go up to the snow line for one day. Now it was booked we headed for Vishisht (a town nearby) for ski boot fittings and to borrow jackets and gloves. The man running the shop in Vishisht was a French ex-city boy who had fallen in love with the place on holidays with his wife and decided to stay. All the ski gear was old French stuff that his mates had sent out. I managed to wangle myself a sweet ESF suit and Laura got a lovely cream Jacket and matching boots.

After the alpine fashion show, we strolled up the main road to an ancient Hindu temple built around piping hot natural springs. Laura wasn’t particularly keen on going in, but since we still hadn’t worked out how to get hot water in our accommodation I suggested it was a good opportunity to get clean. We paid 2 rupees to a young looking boy who was collecting peoples shoes before entering the temple and wandered in. As with most things in India there is a separate section for men and women so we parted company. The hot baths looked like they had recently been upgraded with fancy tiles and a hollow division where jets of water poured out over men showering. I bravely got down to my shorts and plunged a foot into the dark pool. The water was so hot it could have been molten iron, as I pulled my foot back out to investigate it had gone bright pink and the burning sensation didn’t seem to fade. As I sat there looking pathetic on the side, a local boy of no more than 10 dived head first into the fire water and swam around holding his breath under water for as long as he could. I’m sure he was laughing at everyone else there, but it was truly impressive that he didn’t poach right there in front of me.

After trying my other foot in the holy baths and generally feeling uncomfortable and not knowing where to look in the small male only baths I accepted I am not cut out for religious water and went out to find Laura sitting on the side also with feet like lobsters.

Laura would like me to point out that there was a big white fluffy rabbit sitting on the steps outside the temple. All very Alice in wonderland...