We were all up at 6:00 in order to be ready to catch the bus to take us down the Pin valley, as part of our trip to Tabo. We skipped breakfast for the sake of sleep, but asked the monk to prepare us some chapatis that we ate while we were packing. Having heard that the bus sometimes stops only at Gulley down the valley and doesn't bother making the detour up the hill to Kungri, we head out on a short-cut across the fields straight to Gulley, but half way there, we spotted the bus climbing the hill, earlier than we had been told - we were neither in Kungri nor Gulley, and as there was only one bus per day, we all had to break into a shuffled rucksack type of run through the fields to get back to the road in the hope of catching the bus on its way down the hill. We made it, flagged the bus to a halt, loaded our rucksacks onto the roof and piled in. Our bus surprises were however not over for the day.
We had to get the Kasa headed bus to take us back down the Pin valley to the confluence with the Spiti river, and then up the Spiti river until the bridge, where we could cross over, and wait for a second bus from Kasa to take us down the other side of the Spiti river to Tabo. But while we were rocking and bumping our way up the Spiti river, we saw the Tabo bus, surrounded by a cloud of dust on the other side of the valley heading down river and already past the bridge - we had missed it, and the next one was not
until the evening. We got off anyway at the bridge, in the middle of nowhere, piled our rucksacks up and sat down with a pack of digestive biscuits to wait for any potential vehicles going to Tabo that could give us a lift, but prepared if necessary to wait the 8 hours before the next Tabo headed bus was due. We didn't have to wait long. After about half an hour, we saw a small car coming up on the other side of the river. Seeing that he was turning right after coming over the bridge, I flagged it down - it was a tiny Chrysler hatchback with an elderly Kinnaur gentleman driving on his own. He was indeed headed to Tabo, but, shaking his head, pointing at the rucksacks and mumbling about weight, he was clearly lacking faith that we could squeeze four people and four rucksacks into his car, or perhaps the ability of his car to transport them over the mountains. Fia and Tamsin came up to join the car window discussion, and gave him a smile while he was deliberating - after that, the decision was made - it just became a question of "how" we would fit us all in and not "whether". At a squeeze, we managed to get Jacqui's rucksack into the boot, the two girls rucksacks by their feet in the back seat with Jacqui as well, and I, after having tried a few different angles, managed to get in the front passenger seat with my rucksack on my lap. The rucksack stretched across more than half the width of the car, and everytime that he needed to change gears (which was very frequently, given the mountainous and rocky route) 
I had to lift my right leg to raise my rucksack so that he could have acces to the gear lever. He was a gentle and likeable man, even though we had hardly any common vocabularly between us, and he drove very carefully over this dramatic rough stretch of road, slowing almost to a halt for every pot-hole and winding across the width of the road to find the smoothest path. Jacqui and the girls fell asleep while I stayed wide-eyed for the two and a half hour drive, soaking in every inch of this majestic route, cut through steep valley sides and jagged grey rock lunar-like landscapes.
We had to get the Kasa headed bus to take us back down the Pin valley to the confluence with the Spiti river, and then up the Spiti river until the bridge, where we could cross over, and wait for a second bus from Kasa to take us down the other side of the Spiti river to Tabo. But while we were rocking and bumping our way up the Spiti river, we saw the Tabo bus, surrounded by a cloud of dust on the other side of the valley heading down river and already past the bridge - we had missed it, and the next one was not
until the evening. We got off anyway at the bridge, in the middle of nowhere, piled our rucksacks up and sat down with a pack of digestive biscuits to wait for any potential vehicles going to Tabo that could give us a lift, but prepared if necessary to wait the 8 hours before the next Tabo headed bus was due. We didn't have to wait long. After about half an hour, we saw a small car coming up on the other side of the river. Seeing that he was turning right after coming over the bridge, I flagged it down - it was a tiny Chrysler hatchback with an elderly Kinnaur gentleman driving on his own. He was indeed headed to Tabo, but, shaking his head, pointing at the rucksacks and mumbling about weight, he was clearly lacking faith that we could squeeze four people and four rucksacks into his car, or perhaps the ability of his car to transport them over the mountains. Fia and Tamsin came up to join the car window discussion, and gave him a smile while he was deliberating - after that, the decision was made - it just became a question of "how" we would fit us all in and not "whether". At a squeeze, we managed to get Jacqui's rucksack into the boot, the two girls rucksacks by their feet in the back seat with Jacqui as well, and I, after having tried a few different angles, managed to get in the front passenger seat with my rucksack on my lap. The rucksack stretched across more than half the width of the car, and everytime that he needed to change gears (which was very frequently, given the mountainous and rocky route) 
I had to lift my right leg to raise my rucksack so that he could have acces to the gear lever. He was a gentle and likeable man, even though we had hardly any common vocabularly between us, and he drove very carefully over this dramatic rough stretch of road, slowing almost to a halt for every pot-hole and winding across the width of the road to find the smoothest path. Jacqui and the girls fell asleep while I stayed wide-eyed for the two and a half hour drive, soaking in every inch of this majestic route, cut through steep valley sides and jagged grey rock lunar-like landscapes.We arrived at Tabo, and our driver - his reluctance at taking on this voluminous family having long ago been superseded by an eagerness to help us in any way he could - took us up to the door of a guest-house we had mentioned.
It was one that had been recommended to us by a Russian/English couple that we had met in Kasa (and who we were later to meet again). It was a residential house onto which the owners had built a second floor for a few guest rooms. Although it was not endowed with any particular character, it was homely, the family were more than welcoming, and our room was spacious and spotless with a dream of a shower emitting copious amounts of hot water at any time - a luxury that we had not seen in several weeks. The lovely town (village?) of Tabo, though much smaller than Kasa, is better known due to its 1000 year old monastery (a favourite of the Dalai Lama, who regularly stays) that dominates the village. Despite the smattering of tourists, the place remains completely unaffected, and, nestled amongst the Spiti valley Himalayas, retains an atmosphere of total serenity.
Having shed our rucksacks, we wondered through Tabo and had a quick breakfast at a little restaurant before we headed back for a siesta. After a late lunch of momos, spring rolls and parantha (a delicious chapati stuffed wi
th cheese and potatos) we visited the monastery. It was constructed in a beige sand-coloured mud-brick, giving more of a north african feel, in 969 AD by Rinchen Zangpo, not long after the first introduction of Buddhism in the Spiti valley as part of the wave of Gelugpa-sect monasteries he built in the region (along with Dhankar that we had visited earlier). We were shown by one of the monks around the different chambers that each led from a central open courtyard. THe monastery is particularly famed for the astonishingly well preserved artwork inside, mostly dating from the initial construction of the monastery and for which Rinchen Zangpo hired the very best of artists from the different corners of the kingdom. In a dimly-lit monastic slience, we browsed the detailed murals that lined the walls and admired the chamber full of huge mystical stucco sculpted bodhissatvas (Buddha had reached a liberated state of enlightenment, freeing himself from the world although for compassionate reasons had chosen to stay among us, bhodissatvas were others who had reached or were on their way to this state).
Our timing was coincidentally perfect for the puja. We sat cross-legged looking through the doorway while the magical spiritual atmosphere filled the chamber like a vapour,
with one lone monk (the main communal puja for the other monks being performed now in the more recent monastery constructed next-door) chanting in repetitive simple melody with occasional scripted accompaniment of a hand drum and clashes of a traditional cymbal.
With a vivid sense of the life of 11'th century Buddhism ringing around our minds, we left the monastery and scrambled directly up the steep valley side on the edge of Tabo (ignorant at that stage of an easy paved path only 200m from where we were climbing), to find the caves that the monks once used as their secluded retreats for meditation and prayer. They completed the picture of intense spirituality, but also offered us an exciting playground where we could hide behind rocks while we launched our attack on the imaginary pirates hiding inside the caves.
Having shed our rucksacks, we wondered through Tabo and had a quick breakfast at a little restaurant before we headed back for a siesta. After a late lunch of momos, spring rolls and parantha (a delicious chapati stuffed wi
th cheese and potatos) we visited the monastery. It was constructed in a beige sand-coloured mud-brick, giving more of a north african feel, in 969 AD by Rinchen Zangpo, not long after the first introduction of Buddhism in the Spiti valley as part of the wave of Gelugpa-sect monasteries he built in the region (along with Dhankar that we had visited earlier). We were shown by one of the monks around the different chambers that each led from a central open courtyard. THe monastery is particularly famed for the astonishingly well preserved artwork inside, mostly dating from the initial construction of the monastery and for which Rinchen Zangpo hired the very best of artists from the different corners of the kingdom. In a dimly-lit monastic slience, we browsed the detailed murals that lined the walls and admired the chamber full of huge mystical stucco sculpted bodhissatvas (Buddha had reached a liberated state of enlightenment, freeing himself from the world although for compassionate reasons had chosen to stay among us, bhodissatvas were others who had reached or were on their way to this state).Our timing was coincidentally perfect for the puja. We sat cross-legged looking through the doorway while the magical spiritual atmosphere filled the chamber like a vapour,
with one lone monk (the main communal puja for the other monks being performed now in the more recent monastery constructed next-door) chanting in repetitive simple melody with occasional scripted accompaniment of a hand drum and clashes of a traditional cymbal.With a vivid sense of the life of 11'th century Buddhism ringing around our minds, we left the monastery and scrambled directly up the steep valley side on the edge of Tabo (ignorant at that stage of an easy paved path only 200m from where we were climbing), to find the caves that the monks once used as their secluded retreats for meditation and prayer. They completed the picture of intense spirituality, but also offered us an exciting playground where we could hide behind rocks while we launched our attack on the imaginary pirates hiding inside the caves.
Tabo posted today!
ReplyDelete