McLeod Ganj is a small town nine kilometers up a steep hill from Dharamsala. Founded as a British garrison in the mid-19th century, it remained a fairly unremarkable town, albeit in the midst of some fantastic scenery, until the Dalai Lama claimed asylum in India and settled here in 1959. I've read that there are some four thousand Tibetan refugees living here, but a local that I met at breakfast the other day thought it was more like ten or fifteen thousand. Colorful Tibetan flags fly from almost every rooftop, balcony, and terrace.
I arrived in Dharamsala after dark on Tuesday during a rainstorm. I planed to wait for a shuttle to McLeod Ganj but one of my fellow passengers on the bus, the only one to get off at the same spot, asked whether I wanted to share a taxi. He was a Tibetan just returning from a trip to Tibet. When we arrived in McLeod Ganj, he showed me to the guesthouse I had chosen, and when it was full, as he suspected, he took me to the Green Hotel, where he lives. From the cover of the awning outside my door, I watched lightening periodically illuminate a snow covered ridge across the valley under the low clouds.
The central part of McLeod Ganj is a scruffy open confluence of six narrow streets, all in ill-repair. Two of the streets lead downhill to Dharamsala, past the Tsugladkhang Complex, residence of the Dalai Lama and seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile. The other four streets lead up further into the valley that overlooks the plain to the south. There are quite a few hotels, guesthouses, souvenir shops, restaurants, travel agencies, and internet cafes, but the people are less aggressive than elsewhere in India. Aside from the occasional car honking to clear a way through the narrow streets, the town is very quiet.
On Thursday, I visited the temples and museum at the Tsuglagkhang Complex. The statues and paintings in the temples were amazingly involved and beautifully created. Offerings were stacked in front of each shrine: nuts, crackers, fruit, Chips Ahoy. The Tibetan Museum is a small, two-story section of the compound documenting the Chinese occupation of Tibet. Although I have read the Dalai Lama's account of this time in his autobiography, the museum illustrated the harsher aspects of the Chinese invasion better than any book.
In addition to the Tsuglagkhang Complex, there are several other temples and monasteries around McLeod Ganj. My favorite activity, though, has been exploring the surrounding towns and trails.
Less than two kilometers to the east of McLeod Ganj is an even smaller town called Bhagsu. Above the town, a long stream pours through a steep cut in the ridge feeding a waterfall. Several cafes are perched above and below the waterfall serving chai and all kinds of snacks. Across the pools at the top of the waterfall, a trail leads up the opposite hillside to a collection of stone huts and a shrine.
A brisk fifteen minute walk to the north is another pleasant village called Dharamkot, where there are also a few guesthouses and restaurants, but no streets. The valley is covered with terraced farmland and livestock roam the meadows above.
On Friday, I hiked a long circuit starting through Dharamkot, ascending the ridge past a place called Triund, which is a cafe and shrine at 9500 feet. Somewhere at a fork in the trail, I lost my way and found myself thrashing through sharp bushes on steep slopes and scrambling up and down through stands of rhododendron trees. I lost sight of Triund but continued through meadows on the ridges and finally through a pasture, approaching the cafe from the wrong direction. From Triund, the correct trail was obvious, stretched out like a sidewalk back down the valley. There were four men there: the cafe proprietor and single inhabitant and a group of two hikers and their guide. After an orange juice and a Snickers bar, I bought a third liter of water and a hard, sugarcane walking stick. The cafe owner said that there was snow on the ridge, but my hiking boots should be fine.
Past Triund, the trail is easy to follow despite increasing amounts of snow. After a few kilometers, the path crosses an avalanche chute, recently discharged, before ascending the ridge through well-trod switchbacks. The nearer I came to the summit, the more energy I found until by the time I crested the ridge, I felt I could walk forever up, despite being at 11,000 feet. As I came over the rolling, wide ridge top and walked to the shepherds' basecamp at Laka Got, the next ridge and its beautiful snow-covered peaks came slowly into view. There were about fifteen people at Laka Got, sitting outside a shelter cafe drinking chai. I stayed for a brief chat with a couple of exhausted German girls and a quick chai.
After Laka Got, I headed east along the ridge through large, granite boulders protruding from the snow. A little over a mile along the ridge, the snow thinned and the ground dips to a shoulder where I came upon a group of stone shelters by a couple of small ponds in a green pasture. After the shelters the trail becomes indistinct as the way steepens but the next landmark was clear and I quickly reached another cluster of huts with a pagoda, halfway down to the waterfall at Bhagsu. The rest of the trail down to the waterfall is well maintained and winds through a slope of bushes and more blooming rhododendron. I was soon at the waterfall, where I hopped the stones across and walked the short road back to McLeod Ganj. My legs were tired, but mentally I felt refreshed.
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