ladakh...passing through the void

7/31/2019 Ladakh...passing through the void

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Ladakh 2012Back in time. Contemplate future.

Tuesday July 31 Leh5:40am

The mission. The mission. Keep focussed. The thin air of Northern Indiathreatens to steal my purpose. Dropped into the desolate village of Leh

yesterday to place myself in the position of a character in a screenplay idea

percolating in my brain. What was this person thinking, feeling, planning?

What sequence of events brought him to these remotest parts of the world,

forsaken of moisture and the accoutrements of modern civilization. Indeed,

annual rainfall here is said to rival that of the Sahara desert.

Fire. Water. Air. Land. Everything here has been stripped. Very little oxygen resides at 10,500 and

we are here to acclimate for the higher altitudes, above 16,000. Since there is little moisture and

little flat land, the ability to grow food and make fire is severely hampered. This will be put to thetest as our cooking stove will accept white liquid gas, limited by our ability to haul up the mountains.

We also have the option of foraging for sticks and twigs that have fallen and dried. The ultra light

titanium stove will be the subject of another experiment. Four of these have been tucked into my

already overloaded backpack. The goal is to see if we can address the issues of resource depletion in

the cooking process and perhaps offer a better solution. The use of biochar in this region promises

to be an exciting alternative to dependency either on foreign oil or the severely depleted local trees.


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Wednesday, August 1 Leh5:43am

Up with the sun. A solitary walk through town with

the sole purpose of finding drinkable water in the end

failed to quench my thirst. Instead, my

senses were invaded by

crusading waves nausea induced

by dozens of mangy dogs, sickly

cows and slumbering donkeys,

most sleeping in their own

excrement or rummaging through

piles of rotting garbage. If this

description sounds a bit severe, mind you, this effect

produced in me a mild curiosity, a detached

observational mindset that piqued as each streetcorner was rounded.

My first encounter was the group of moslem men

returning from their 3am or so prayers. Engaged in

spiritual deliberations, none acknowledged my

presence. Next I happened upon the street sweeper.

No, not a machine, rather a real person with straw

broom in hand, producing dark grey clouds of nasty,

virulent, airborne refuse particulates, which required a

wide detour and holding of breath to avoid. As I

studied this buddhist fellow with a fair amount of pity,

he looked up, smiled and proclaimed Julay! with a

traditional hand gesture, resembling half wave and

half salute. My sympathy quickly melted into respect

as I returned the greeting.

Conversations. Random discussions. Topics of

religion. What is it about a desert culture that breeds

faith, the desire to believe in something outside

oneself. Israel came to mind for me in comparison.

Ladakh resembles religious trench warfare on onelevel, an ecumenical Shangri-La on another. Some say

its the altitude or the arid mountains that reveal the

parched soul when stripped of first-world comforts.

My encounter with a personal God seems to weigh

heavily against efforts to find a godlike state.

Worlds Apart. Sounds like a good working title

for my Ladakh screenplay/adventure drama.


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Monday, August 6Leh7:10 am

Kashmiri! my buddhist host proclaimed when she viewed my images of

swarthy moslem laborers, rock splitters using the proven method of sledge

hammer and steel spike. These men are hard working, witty and love to have

fun. As my jeep companions waited patiently, they took turns taking and

viewing pics of themselves. A lunch invitation soon followed, which had to be

respectfully declined. Encounters like this help dispel negative media images.

Epic storm. How do you describe gale-force winds threatening for hours to turn your little tent

into a confetti parade? Indeed, this shakedown tour gave me more confidence

in the gear and more respect for the forces of nature. The nomadic folk

encountered on the Tibetan border took all with a bit of humor and gusto.

They are a hearty breed accustomed to hunkering down and riding out the

storms of life. Indian fare at The Three Idiots Cafe says it all.

A word about tea. No day in this region starts without a fresh pot of scalding

hot tea andpaneer, an indian flatbread, and jam. Usually, the choice is given

between black tea, green tea or milk tea. Other herbal varieties are available upon

request in most cases. The host will escort you into the tea room with its assortment of floor pillows

and low tables, busying herself with supplying endless amounts of hot breads and tea.

Lake Pangong....after a 5 hour knuckle biting 4-wheel-drive adventure through a restricted military

area- permits in hand - we arrived to one of the most starkly regal and pure lakes ever encountered.

Seemingly forgotten by time, very few touristic developments preserved most of its pristine charm.

That said, the Indian Army is digging in - full force - to protect the family jewels from China.

ladakh...passing through the void

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