We made a stop at Hemis Monastery. The famous once-in-12-years Hemis Festival was to take place the following week. The courtyard was buzzing with anticipation, and we saw monks rehearsing their Cham dances to the accompaniment of drums. Inside, the beautiful murals had been freshly retouched and Phuntsog, our guide, gave me a decent primer on tantric Vajrayana Buddhism. The 12m-high tankha, a portrait of Guru Pabmasambhava, would be unfurled at the festival and I couldn’t believe how narrowly we missed that!
There was adventure on the cards the next day: rafting on the Zanskar. We started at Scorpochay on a 14-km run of Grade 2+ rapids as far as Sangam, the confluence of the Indus and the Zanskar. Since I’d gone rafting only once before, the thrill was measured out just right: exciting without terrifying the hell out of me. Once the rapids were past, we cruised peacefully in between canyons, looking up at the cliffs and the occasional blooms of lavender on the banks. Towards the end, we all fell into the water in a spirit of jollification.
We made our way to the Nubra Valley for the second leg of our stay. As we wound our way up to Khardung La in a crawling convoy of dieselly vehicles, we looked left to see the entire Stok range gleaming in the sunlight. Phuntsog said sharply, “Golden Eagle!” And there it was, a magnificent raptor gliding at us, framed against the mountains. We got out of the car to see it soar higher and higher still. It was joined by another and they circled the thermals in a beautiful dance, brushing past each other, their wings indeed golden as they filtered the sunlight.
We descended to the village of Khardungand past Khalsar, and then – Nubra. We had heard and read accounts of this valley but it hadn’t prepared me for this 360° immersion. The river Shyok flows along it and, framed by mountain citadels on either side, a thin straight tar road plunges, seemingly without end, into the heart of the flat valley. We were bewildered by its strange beauty.
