Don’t Give Up Hope

Tirthan Valley, Day 2 (October 10, 2014)

Our first full day in Tirthan Valley, we went for a hike.  The village of Nagini, where we were staying, is about 5,000 feet above sea level, like Manali, but neither of us had any altitude sickness.  We climbed about another 1,000 feet through lush forest and a handful of village homes, fresh corn cobs and red chilis drying on the roof, until we reached a lovely waterfall.   

View of the village about 25% of the way up the climb

Villagers living on the hill

Villagers living on the hill

Villager living on the hill

Chilis drying in the sun

Chilis drying in the sun

Corn cobs drying on the roof

Christopher had given us precise and excellent directions, the most significant of which Marina kept repeating: “Don’t give up hope.”   We had met three Indian tourists on the trail, two of whom had trekking poles, and they had decided to turn back because the trail became narrow and rocky.  “It’s proper trekking,” one of them said.   Christopher had warned us about the short rocky patch, so when we got to it, we scrambled over it and got back on the trail.  I couldn’t believe they had turned back because of that but as Marina pointed out to me, “They’re city folk, darling.”  It got me thinking about how many of us turn back from our goals because of a little discomfort or fear.  I could handle this rocky patch, but how many metaphorical rocky patches had I turned back from for fear that I wasn’t equipped to handle it, that I wasn’t a “proper trekker.” 

When we got to the end, in the near distance, we could see the large waterfall, about 300 feet high, cascading down the hill, but the path seemed covered with brush.   Right near us, a smaller waterfall fell into two large pools. We explored the areas around the pool and I dipped my feet in the water, which was ice cold!  Marina built little stupas with the rocks and bits of green glass lying around.  We lazed in the sun for a long while and I marveled that we had the entire place all to ourselves.  It was a magical afternoon and I wished we had thought to bring a picnic lunch. 

Taking a break up the hill

Waterfall in sight!

Pool from large waterfall leading to smaller waterfall

That water was cold!!

Lazing in the sun

So lovely to have it all to ourselves!

One of Marina's stupas

As we got ready to head back down the hill, I decided to see if there was a path to the large waterfall.   The brush was a bit overgrown but we pushed through and reached the part where thousands of gallons of water gushed down every second, wearing away the stone.   The force of that water, if harnessed, would have been enough to at least power the little village homes we had seen.  The ice-cold water collected in a large pool, which in turn emptied into the smaller pools we had seen below.  Had we not pushed aside the brush, we would have missed this magnificent sight.  We had been so content with what we had below that we didn’t bother trying to go to the top.  That’s certainly a metaphor for my life.   I’m basically a lazy person who likes to work smart, not hard, and if I can avoid working altogether, I’ll take that option any day.   I wonder how many magnificent and powerful waterfalls I have missed because of being too lazy to clear the brush-covered path to the top.

Now that's a waterfall!

We got back to the lodge just in time for a home-made buffet lunch of good Indian food.  I restrained myself from taking thirds.  After lunch, Raja gave Marina a crash course in fly-fishing and we accompanied him and Masja on an escapade further down the river. We piled in the back of his gypsy and bounced along the bumpy road to a spot where the water rushed over rocks and created lovely pools. Apparently, trout are just like me.  They prefer not to work too hard so they just lounge around in pools created by strong currents, waiting for their food (insects, etc.) to be delivered to them.  Marina cast her line in the water while I watched kingfishers and wader birds douse themselves and catch insects in the gushing stream.

Fly-fishing is apparently the art of landing a fake fly on the water just so, to try and trick a trout into thinking it’s a real meal.  But the trout are wilier than that.  They can tell the difference between a fake and a real fly, and if you don’t cast gracefully, they can tell by the movement.  Plus, they can see you with their fish eyes.   Even though Raja and Masja, like virtually all the HTH guests, practice catch-and-release so that the river’s stocks don’t get depleted, I was glad that Marina didn’t catch anything.  Someone mentioned a Cambridge study which concluded that fish don’t have nerve endings in their mouth so they don’t feel pain, but even so, it can’t be fun to be lifted out of your home by a hook in your mouth and left to thrash around a bit for air till someone manages to take a picture before throwing you back in.   

Our new friend Raja teaching Marina how to fly fish

Marina practicing her cast

Getting the wrist action right!

The beautiful Tirthan River

The talk at dinner was all about fly fishing, which, like everything else, has its own jargon.  One of the other guests, Gautam, described the HTH as the Times Square of fly-fishing in India.  The place is apparently a haven for all 150 (per Gautam’s count) of the fly fishermen in India.  Based on the time of day and year, you choose a different paraphernalia to catch the fish.   Marina’s bead was apparently not shiny enough (a fact I’ve mentioned to her many times over the years), and another guest simply had the wrong kind of fly.  After a good many jokes and stories, we retired with bellies and hearts full.  We were scheduled to leave the next morning, but had not had our fill, so we extended our stay.  Unfortunately, HTH was full to capacity the next day so Christopher arranged for us to stay in the neighboring homestay.  It was a far cry from the style and design of HTH, but it was worth it to spend another magical day in Tirthan Valley with our new friends.