mountain pony man

I came to love Kashmir despite the initial deception and doubt. The area has been set back 20 years because of the fighting, and the local people are desperate for a return of tourism and the money it brings. I can't really hold their agressive tactics against them, as I really believe that for them it's a matter of survival... it's business, nothing personal, and not a matter of morality or decency.

The last couple of days in Kashmir were really amazing... trekking in the mountains near Sonamarg and seeing the countryside. Sonamarg means "Meadow of Gold" and sits in the cleft of a wooded valley with mountains in the background. Kashmir is proclaimed by the locals as "Paradise on Earth" (which is apparently why everyone is fighting for it) and I can see why... it is truely magnificent despite a heavy military presence. Actually, Sonamarg is also home to Kashmir's largest Indian military base... we weren't allowed to photograph the military for fear of arrest. The conflict was never far from my thoughts... I'd see trucks on the road carrying soldiers, and soldiers stationed in the hills overlooking the roads. There was one morning where I was looking at the sky and fighter jets flew over on patrol. As well, while we were trekking we heard a loud explosion and we all got a little worried until we realised it was just some blasting down the valley to make way for a new road.

The people were just so kind and their faces are full of character... beautiful and full of humanity, their lives written on their faces. Their daily existence is so hard that everyone looks older than I'm sure they are, especially the women. The men work hard, but I think the women work even harder... gathering wood and harvesting and taking care of the children... there were children everywhere.

I led some mountain ponies across the terrain with the guide (he said i was a "kashmiri mountain pony man", although really all I was doing was holding their reigns and making giddiup noises to keep them moving) and the two funny and charming late middle aged English women (one is now an Aussie) ladies I'm now sharing cars with through Rajasthan (Liz and Lynn) alternated between riding and walking. I even got on a pony for a photo (I got on the one that had previously tried to kick me). We had a huge fire at night and I slept in a tent with three other Kashmiri men (actually I didn't really sleep because the ground was too uneven). The camp was alongside a river of the most amazing turqoise blue and sweet tasting water. I couldn't figure out how it got that color until the next day treking through the hills I saw that many of the local rocks had the same color. The water was really lovely, except that everyone went to the bathroom right along the edge and so it was a mine field of poop. And for some reason the guides threw a bunch of garbage down the edge and some of it was strewn about. They're just not as environmentally aware, although there is a sign from the government banning plastic in that area... but that didn't stop the guides from burning the plastic items they had brought rather than return with it.

I saw some amazing country with the river valley all washed out from the spring floods and with only the vast stretches of rocks strewn about indicating the power and extent of the water that had passed through. We saw apple orchards and walnut trees and a trout fishery and trees stuffed full of hay for the coming winter (they put the hay high up in the trees so the animals won't get to it and so that they can find it once the snow reaches 10 feet up in winter). It was autumn there, so the leaves had turned beautiful yellows and oranges and a few reds. The whole valley was covered with terrace farming already barren for the winter aside from some last minute potatoes.

On one of our treks we stopped for tea at a little refreshment hut set up for tourists (we were in a bit of a national park and so there were a few Indian tourists) and I was sitting inside the tent when a Kashmiri man started talking to me in their dialect. I kind of looked at him blankly thinking he was talking to our guide sitting on the other side of me but it turned out he had actually mistaken me for a Kashmiri man! We talked for a bit about what he did and where he was from (Srinagar) and about what I did and where I was from, and when it was time for me to leave he stepped outside the tent holding my hand and shook it for a long time. He struggled with the right words, but he said that our meeting was very auspicious and he wished me well, as I him.

After the two days of trekking in the mountains we left early the following morning for Dharamsala, a 14 hour drive out of the Kashmir valley and over the most sublime terrain... beautiful and really frightening at the same time. Think CA US1 between Carmel and SF but times 10 and with NO safety built in... no guardrails, freight trucks everywhere on the road, everyone passing in the on-coming lane around blind switchback curves. I really thought we were going over the edge a few times (I was surprised at how few accidents we saw... two) but we had a great driver who did the whole thing straight with only a couple of quick stops. We made it just fine though and now I'm hanging with the monks in the high hills of Dharamsala.