Trekking the Path by michael smith

Trekking the Path

TREKKING THE PATH Copyright Michael Smith ÂŠ 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system without written permission of the author.

Trekking the Path

TREKKING THE PATH CHAPTER 1 The Beginning As with any journey of exploration, either spiritual or physical, it all starts with that very first step. Sometimes this first step is voluntary; sometimes it is accidental and sometimes you are pushed.

This is the story of my own experience as a reluctant

trekker on the path. In this context, the path, I describe is both spiritual and physical as will be seen as the story unfolds. Both paths intertwine and both were undertaken with reluctance. There are parallels with both journeys. One path started in India many years ago, and after 30 years it isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t finished yet.

The more recent one was also

undertaken in India, in the form of a trek across the Himalayas through Kashmir, Zanskar and Ladakh and ending in Himachal Pradesh. So why write about two journeys?

From my own perspective the similarities

between them were remarkable, both were arduous and both were taken with an element of reluctance and scepticism.

Yet as both journeys unfolded, there were

lessons to be learned, issues to be resolved, obstructions to be overcome and prejudices to be confronted. The world as we view it, (both mental and physical), is not necessarily as concrete as we think it is, we have preconceived ideas and in-built reactions to situations based upon years of habitual response. We seem to make the same mistakes over and over again as our patterns of behaviour are repeated over and over again, and as we slip and slide along the path it often seems that we have little control over our so called destiny, yet there are moments throughout our lives where there is clarity, direction and control and just as we think everything is going smoothly, that great cosmic boot kicks us in the butt and we sit there dazed and confused

Trekking the Path

wondering what on Earth we did wrong. I shall attempt here to describe my own journey of spiritual adventure as well as my reluctant wandering across the vast Himalayas, by drawing parallels and sharing the experiences, successes and failures, I try to make some sense of it all. I would probably describe myself as, ‘the worlds worst Buddhist’, because spiritually my path is based upon the teachings of the Buddha, however, putting these teachings into practice is not easy and I fail miserably at times, yet for me, it is not so much about failure, but more of a learning experience. You can’t learn to ride a bicycle without falling off and even when you are an accomplished cyclist, you will still get hit by the cosmic boot, but you get back on and persevere, albeit bruised and battered. I am not suggesting for one second that I am in any way an accomplished practitioner, but I am a practitioner of sorts and the journey along the path is worth sharing in the hope that it will bring some benefit to living beings, O.K. maybe not all, but that is the aspiration, cosmic boot not withstanding. Using my journey across the Himalayas, along with what little Buddhist philosophy I have learned over the past 30 years, there are incredible parallels and lessons to be learned, more importantly perhaps, how to put into every-day practice, the principals of Buddhist philosophy that will hopefully make our transit through life happier, more relaxed and stable rather than crashing along, experiencing the extremes of ecstasy and depression, love and hatred, like and dislike, in fact all the elements that cause us suffering. Of course, it would be naïve to think, or even assume, that by reading through my own experiences you will never again suffer, suffering is a part of life as I will attempt to explain later, but as the Buddha described 2500 years ago, there is suffering, there is a cause to suffering and there is the ability to prevent suffering by following a specific path. This philosophy is known as the Four Noble Truths, more of which will be explained later.

Trekking the Path

My journey across the great Himalayan range was definitely in the category of that, ‘pushed’, first step.

I was definitely over-estimating my abilities and under-

estimating my resolve. My first and only trekking experience was in 2006 in Nepal, a relatively short amble from Pokhara to Poon Hill comprising of 5 days in total. Looking back in comparison to trekking across Zanskar, it was a walk in the park, although at the time I recall it was hard, extremely tiring and accompanied by much swearing and ill tempered behaviour interspersed with moments of ecstatic accomplishment as, yet another arduous clamber up an impossibly steep hill was completed. I guess I should have left it at that, but our memory is short and selective and after the passing of time we only recall the good bits and forget the bad. I definitely forgot the bad bits and finally succumbed to my girl-friends request to go on a, ‘real’, trek, (Poon Hill was for pussies!) with real high altitude mountain passes, rugged trails, boulder fields, (at the time I hadn’t a clue what a boulder field was – although one can work it out from its rather emphatic title) river crossings and shale slopes. There would be camping in a tent (I hadn’t done that since my military days 40 years ago!) eating outdoors, bathing in rivers and walking….lots of walking…huge amounts of it in fact, mainly uphill and of course downhill, but very little on the flat. It all sounded very adventurous, very ermm, ‘outdoor’. The trek would be in two stages starting in Pahalgam, Kashmir, comprising a six day trek through the Kashmir valley ending in Sonemarg. Then a twelve hour jeep ride to Padhum in the remote Zanskar valley. From Padhum a ten day trek over nine, high altitude, passes to Lamayuru in Ladakh.

From Lamayuru another jeep to Leh, the

capital of Ladakh followed by a two day bus journey across the highest road in the world to Manali. Finally another bus from Manali back to Dharamsala in Himachal Pradesh where I currently chose to live. It all sounded, ‘interesting’, my enthusiasm being slightly tempered by my inbuilt hatred of physical exercise in any shape or form. However, not

Trekking the Path

wanting to end up a complete blob, I decided, with some reluctance, to accept the challenge and so, armed with a brand new rucksack, sleeping bag, Ipod (well one has standards after all), trusty old hiking boots, (that actually fell apart halfway across the Himalayas), various items of warm clothing, thermal underwear and a walking stick, the adventure would begin on the 23rd August 2007. The other journey started 26 years earlier in Goa whilst undertaking another voyage of personal discovery. I wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t elaborate too much about that here, suffice to say I ended up, as did any traveller of note in the 80â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, in Calangute south Goa. I had rented a modest little hut on the beach. One evening whilst walking along the beach at sunset, I happened upon a small Tibetan restaurant. I cannot recall what I ordered, but I do remember clearly the events of that night. On the wall of the restaurant was a picture of a Buddhist monk, his wonderful smile seemed to gaze directly at me from the picture itself. I remember asking the young Tibetan waiter who it was in the picture. He told me with some surprise that this was, of course, a picture of His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, the spiritual and political leader of the Tibetan people living in exile in Dharamsala, Northern India.

At the time I was completely ignorant as to all things

Buddhist or Tibetan, but something inside of me wanted to know more, the waiter told me that if I really wanted to learn more about His Holiness, Tibetans and Buddhism, there was a young Tibetan man living in the forest, he was an ex-monk who had himself escaped the Chinese occupation of Tibet and had given up his robes to help many other Tibetans escape across the Himalayas to India. The waiter assured me that this man spoke good English and that he would be able to tell me more. I finished my meal and headed back to my hut on the beach. Upon arriving back I realised I had forgotten completely about the waiters recommendation and had not taken either the Tibetan mans name or details of where he lived.

That evening I sat in my hut and was

Trekking the Path

attempting to play an Indian drum called a Tabla. Being a musician of sorts my sense of rhythm was quite good even if my skills were limited. As I beat out a steady rhythm on the Tabla, I heard the distant sound of a flute. The flute appeared to be playing in time with my rhythm and as I changed the pattern, so the flute accompanied the beat. The sound of the flute was hypnotic; a deep resonant sound that grew louder as the player approached my hut. Eventually the playing stopped and there was a bang on my door. Surprised at the late hour, I opened the door and there stood a tall young Tibetan man, his long jet black hair hung loosely down to his waist. He wore a sarong and traditional Tibetan shirt and held a large bamboo flute. ‘Hi, I’m Nawang’, he chimed in accented English, ‘you the guy who wants to know about Buddhism?’ he asked as if it were the most natural question in the world. His full name was Nawang Kechog and although I had no idea who this young man was, I invited him in to my hut and we sat and talked virtually all night long, that encounter lasted five days. We sat and talked non stop, occasionally breaking for sleep and food. He told me about the plight of his people, about the atrocities the Chinese inflicted upon the Tibetans, the massacres, the torture, the imprisonment without trial, the relentless hostility towards religious freedom and horrendous breaches of human rights.

It was a horror story almost too unbelievable to absorb in this so called

enlightened age. He told me about the escape of His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama from Tibet, the government in exile in Dharamsala and, most importantly, he taught me the basics of Buddhist philosophy, starting with the Four Noble Truths, the law of Karma and the Buddhist view of reality. It was an amazing experience and despite his broken English, Nawang was a good teacher with a clear understanding of Buddhism and he had a wonderful ability to be able to communicate the philosophy articulately. Nawang became a very dear friend and I am still in communication with him to this day.

Trekking the Path

He now lives in the USA and is a very famous flautist having made many recordings and played with many famous artists throughout the world. I am forever indebted to Nawang for the time he took and his concise explanation of Buddhist philosophy. From that moment onward, although perhaps I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t realise it at the time, I had stepped onto the path and have been walking it ever since. It was Nawang that suggested to me that I visit Dharamsala and that I should request a personal audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Shortly after that encounter, I left Goa and headed North to Simla and then onward to Dharamsala and eventually McLeod Ganj. I stayed in a small guest house with a Tibetan family in McLeod Ganj and shortly after my arrival made my way to the residence of His Holiness. I knocked on the main door, which was opened by a monk dressed in bright saffron robes. I told him that I wished an audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama if it were possible and that I had been recommended by Nawang Kechog. Looking back at events, it all sounds rather unfeasible now, after all who was I? A complete nobody, requesting to see a living Buddha! Never the less I was told to come back the following day when I would be able to see His Holiness. These days this would be almost impossible, I have since managed to be part of a public audience, but personal audiences are extremely rare indeed, I can not believe how fortunate I was at the time. The Tibetan family that I stayed with were completely in awe that I was to meet with His Holiness and they told me what a great honour this was and what wonderful Karma I must have to be able to have this opportunity. They also insisted that I learn how to offer a Kata. A Kata is a traditional Tibetan offering of a white silk scarf, which is offered by hand. The scarf is rolled in a specific way so as to sit across the hands. When offered, the scarf is allowed to unfold and then it is handed to the recipient, if this

Trekking the Path

is a Lama, the scarf is then placed back over your head and around the shoulders as a blessing. I practiced this Kata offering several times until I had it down pretty well. The following day I turned up at His Holinessâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; residence and was escorted to the audience room. Again upon reflection there was very little security at that time, now of course the security is intense with armed soldiers, X-Ray machines, and personal searches and so on, but at that time, I do not recollect anything other than someone checking my passport.

I waited in the audience room and after a short while His

Holiness entered accompanied by his secretary and a translator.

With hardly any

formality His Holiness approached me with a beaming smile and outstretched hand. Completely forgetting the Kata offering, I shook his hand firmly, I recall he held my hand for a while looking into my eyes with that wonderful disarming smile. His Holiness is a person who is completely attentive when he meets with you. You feel like he is a close friend completely absorbed in the moment. Some people are never quite there with you, their attention always partly straying and their eyes never completely focused with yours, but His Holiness is right there, like nothing else is important except this meeting with you and him alone. I was mesmerised by his presence as he continued to hold my hand. After a short while, I realised that I had the Kata in my pocket. Apologising, I fumbled in my pocket for the silk scarf as His Holiness looked on with interest. I located the Kata and withdrew it from my pocket, something did not feel quite right, silk is light and hardly weighs anything, yet the Kata felt heavy as I placed it across my hands ready to offer it in the traditional way I had learned. As the Kata unfolded, and to my horror, I saw that my heavy apartment keys had somehow managed to get caught in the fine threads of the scarf. As I handed it to his Holiness, the Kata shot out of my hands weighed down by the keys and hit the floor with a metallic clatter. I instantly bent down to collect the

Trekking the Path

scarf and, at the same time, His Holiness also did the same. With a resounding crunch our heads collided as we both tried to retrieve the Kata. His Holiness rubbed his head and, laughing in his distinctive chuckle, he said, ‘Maybe better we greet Western style, safer yes? I was instantly made to feel comfortable and instead of being highly embarrassed, as I should have been, with a wide grin he invited me to sit and have tea with him. We talked about many things, His Holiness speaking in English and always giving me his undivided attention, when pondering the correct English word he would consult his interpreter who was standing nearby, but in the main he spoke fluently and with great enthusiasm. He asked why I was interested in Buddhism, what I did in the West, why I was in India? I asked all the, ‘stupid Westerner’, questions such as, ‘can you recall your previous lives’, I recall that he did not flinch at the question, but answered that he was living this life and that any relationship to a previous life was not really important; although when he was very young he did have some recollection of his former life and that there were some specific meditation practices he could do so that he could recall events if it were useful to do so. The answer came as naturally as breathing and I was privileged to have heard these personal recollections of who the Tibetans believe is a living Buddha. He also took time to explain the basics of Buddhist philosophy and at the close of our meeting he gave me some books to read. Before saying our farewells, he mentioned that I should meet with Mrs Kalsang Takla the administrator of the Delek hospital and see the Tibetan hospital and maybe I could consider helping if I wished. With a light heart, I prepared to leave and His Holiness bowed then clasped my hand in both of his and again we touched heads as he giggled. That meeting will stay with me until I leave this earth and I can honestly say it was a life changing experience,

Trekking the Path

just how much it would change my life I would not at the time, understand fully, but looking back now it was the start of a very long journey. I did indeed meet Mrs Takla and decided to stay and work at the Delek Hospital for over eighteen months. The hospital did not have a medical laboratory and as this was my speciality, I took on the task of developing a basic laboratory.

Mrs Takla

identified two young and enthusiastic English speaking Tibetans and I developed a one year intense course in basic chemistry, physics, maths, biology, physiology, microbiology and basic laboratory medicine. I returned to the UK to raise interest in my small project to set up a diagnostic laboratory at the Delek Hospital and after a few weeks in the UK, returned to Dharamsala with enough equipment to set up the laboratory with basic diagnostic facilities. I spent a very fulfilling and happy eighteen months in Mcleod Ganj and I am happy to report that, 25 years on, the laboratory has grown and now provides an extremely valuable service to thousands of Tibetans under the management of Sonam Dorje and one of my original students. His son also works in the laboratory having completed his graduate course in medical laboratory science. In early 2006 my fourth marriage dissolved, and even though my ex-wife and I are, to this day, very good friends, I decided that I wanted to leave England and retire to live in Dharamsala. I left the UK in March 2006 and arriving in Dharamsala, I found a small two room apartment, a far cry from my old ten roomed, four bathroom house, Porsche, Jeep Cherokee and Mercedes.

Life here in Dharamsala was to be very

different for me from this point onward.

I entered a three month retreat at Tushita

Meditation Centre situated in the forest high above Dharamsala. The retreat was to â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;kick-startâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; my new life. Meditation was eight hours a day starting at 4 a.m. with no food after midday. This was maintained for 90 days and every day was an incredible journey of self-discovery.

Trekking the Path

Every journey begins with a single step and for me, that auspicious meeting with His Holiness was in effect my first step and Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m still walking!!

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 2 To Trek or not to Trek I am convinced that my meeting with His Holiness was no coincidence, but a Karmic event manifesting due to all the causes and conditions that were in place at that particular time and as a result, placed me firmly on the path. Karma is not an easy phenomena to explain, so I will attempt to do so from a Buddhist perspective and then I shall attempt to describe it in terms of practical application. What is Karma? In the Buddhist sense, Karma is translated as ‘action’. Many Westerners interpret Karma as some divine intervening force waiting in the side-lines and ready to kick your butt if you do something wrong. For example, ‘I got hit by a truck, it must have been my Karma’, well in a some sense this is true, but there was no divine force directing the truck in your direction for the sole reason of hitting you. In reality you happened to be crossing the road, you were thinking of a nice cold beer and meeting your friends and did not take much notice of the truck, which was doing what trucks normally do and simply driving on the highway. You were distracted and stepped off the kerb and wham! The next thing you know you’re in a hospital bed wondering how you got there. So how is this related to Karma? Everything we do and indeed every action of body, speech and mind, no matter how minute, is preceded by a previous cause, nothing can happen spontaneously by itself, everything in the universe happens because of a prior cause.

Some actions, of course seem to be unconscious, like breathing for

example, but never the less, all actions have causes. Karma is action and all of our actions are based upon conditions and causes, how we respond to what we see, hear, smell, taste, touch and think creates Karma, in Buddhist philosophy it is said that as many as 60 Karmic actions occur every second.

It is now thought by modern

Trekking the Path

neuroscience that everything is recorded by the subconscious, everything we have heard, seen, touched, tasted, smelled and thought has been recorded and absolutely nothing is lost.

It is also thought that recalling data from the subconscious can be

activated by entering the same ‘state’ of mind in which the event was recorded. This is why certain sounds or smells can trigger memories from many years ago. You can recall names, faces even telephone numbers in what appears to be a micro-second. In Buddhist terms Karma is action, this action forges an imprint on the consciousness, it can never be erased and can not be destroyed, however when conditions are optimal and given the right cause, this ‘imprint’ can manifest, again giving rise to yet another effect or action. For example, someone in your school when you were young called you by a horrible name, you reacted badly and were offended, and then responded by calling that person a bad name as well, just to get your own back, your reaction was confrontational and reactive. This action created a Karmic imprint on the consciousness, acting as the basis of a habit. Later in life someone else calls you a bad name, your response will most likely be similar because of the Karmic imprint. Repetitive response to similar circumstances results in habituation. We often form habits simply by repeating an action, like an eye twitch or facial expression, even certain phrases and mannerisms are habituated responses.

Therefore when the right

circumstances prevail, or in other words, when the right causes and conditions occur, we revert back to those responses with which we have become familiar. This is the way Karma works, we create a response to an input from our senses, and our reaction to this input creates another effect, which in turn becomes the cause of another action. Some Karmic imprints stay hidden for years, some for seconds and some for lifetimes. It was an ancient Tibetan Buddhist scholar Lama Tsong Kapa who once said that if Karmic action was instant people would never commit a single bad

Trekking the Path

deed. He gave examples of someone stepping on a cockroach and crushing it, if the instant this happened a huge foot appeared out of the sky and crushed the person who crushed the cockroach, then this action would soon cease as no-one wants to experience pain or suffering. From the Buddhist perspective all life is suffering, even when things go well, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s still suffering because when things go well, they never last and as soon as the things that are going well start to go bad, we suffer. Suffering is part of life from birth to death, there seems to be no escape from suffering, we suffer as children learning through trial and error, we suffer the pain of falling over in the playground, or being told off by a strict parent or teacher, we suffer when we want something and donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get it, we suffer when we have something and lose it or break it, we suffer from illness, we suffer from pain, we suffer from not getting our own way, or we suffer from being subject to someone else demands, we suffer when we are sad or angry, we suffer from a bad relationship, from getting old, from losing a loved one and we suffer from death itself. There is no escape from this perpetual suffering it seems, yet over 2500 years ago, a normal human being called Siddartha discovered that suffering had its causes, there were reasons that we suffer, he also discovered that by understanding the causes we could eliminate suffering and ultimately there was a state where there could be no suffering. This may sound very esoteric, but it is very logical. Take our example of the man hit by a truck because he was distracted when he crossed the highway.

concentrating fully on the action of crossing the road and not being distracted, the man would see that a truck was heading his way so he would stop until the truck had passed and cross the road safely. There are of course more subtle Karmic consequences and it could also have been that in a previous lifetime the person hit by the truck caused some harm to the driver of that truck, but that is a difficult concept and the consequences of our actions are not always clear cut. Certain physical phenomena are not subject to

Trekking the Path

Karma, for example, the relationship between plants and trees and the environment, or the explosion of a super-nova, this is cause and effect and not to be confused with Karma. Karma relates to what causes us suffering therefore our actions based upon our motivation perpetuates Karma. Most of the time we rarely see reality in its true sense, we view phenomena from our own perspective, we rely entirely upon our senses, what we see is what we get, or is it? Buddhist philosophy embraces what is called ‘emptiness’, all things are empty of inherent existence, in other words nothing can exist separately from a dependent cause, everything physical or mental is a projection of our own perspective. For example let’s say we have a four sided block of wood, at each side sits a person and they can not see another side of the block, they can only see what is in front of them. On each side of the wooden block is painted a different colour, one side, red, another blue, another yellow and another black. Ask each person what they see and each will tell you a different version, one will see and describe a red block of wood, another a yellow block another a blue and finally one will see a black block. It’s not that they are telling lies or that what they see is not real; it’s just that they are only seeing the block of wood from their perspective.

In life we view everything like this; we do not see a projection, but

something solid, concrete, never changing.

This is why our minds scramble and

constantly search for something new. The beautiful car we desire, or the house we want, we see it the first time as something beautiful that will give us huge pleasure, yet as time passes the object of our desire changes, imperceptibly every second changes occur, after time the car no longer looks as wonderful as we first saw it, the house needs constant repair and maintenance, changes have occurred imperceptibly, almost unknown to us, until one day the very thing that gave us pleasure, now causes suffering. Hence the Buddha said that all life is suffering. The concept of ‘emptiness’ will be a

Trekking the Path

recurring feature throughout this narrative and will be investigated in more depth later. Suffice to say at this point, is that all life in Samsaric existence is suffering and suffering has its cause, if the cause is known one can eliminate suffering and there is a method by which one can do this. This constitutes what are known as the FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS as described by the Buddha 2500 years ago. In fact many of the Buddha’s observations have been ratified by modern science including quantum physics a subject very interesting to His Holiness Dalai Lama. What is the Path? – On a spiritual level, the Path can be best described by the fourth Noble Truth, a method by which happiness and contentment can be achieved, its ultimate destination being enlightenment, or escape from the cycle of birth and death called, ‘Samsara’.

In different cultures there exist two principal schools of Buddhist

philosophy, the Theravada, being the path to enlightenment, or liberation for oneself. The Mahayana, referred to as the greater vehicle, is the path to enlightenment with the intention of becoming enlightened so that one can assist other sentient beings (all living creatures) to also be free from suffering and help them along the path to enlightenment. Tibetan Buddhism and Zen Buddhism are both Mahayana systems. Thailand and Sri Lanka practice Theravada Buddhism. The main difference could be summed up as the motivation for enlightenment, Theravada for self liberation and Mahayana for the benefit of all sentient beings. Tibetan Buddhism was originally brought from India and is the only system that has the ability to formally recognise incarnate Lamas’. Highly advanced practitioners have the ability to choose their re-birth after death and often give an indication of where they will be reborn prior to their death. The system of identifying a reincarnation is complex, but once identified, a reincarnate Lama, called a Tulku, is removed from the family at a very early age of four or five years old and taken to a monastery where they are brought up as a monk and are educated in Buddhist

Trekking the Path

philosophy. As they become older, they are often referred to as a Rinpoche, or Precious One, and will remain as a monk for the rest of their lives, giving teachings or entering into solitary retreat. On a more physical level the ‘Path’ also describes the physical journey through life and, as a Buddhist practitioner, one adheres to certain principals or moral values, these values are divided into three categories, those of the body comprise refraining from killing, stealing and sexual misconduct, those of the speech comprise refraining from lying, harsh speech, derogatory language and idle gossip and finally those of the mind comprise, avarice, wishing ill towards someone and wrong view. From my own experience I was brought up in a strict Christian home so many of the moral values were fairly well established, however for me, I could never believe in the concept of a creator or God and I guess this is why Buddhist philosophy provided more answers than questions.

Certainly once I had decided to embark upon the

Buddhist path there was no turning back, of course there were, and still are, obstacles on the path, a great deal of falling over and stumbling about, but the philosophy provides a clear and concise navigable route, a practical manual if you like for life. So what has trekking got to do with any of this? The experience I had during 21 days of trekking through the Himalayas, highlighted many parallels with the Buddhist Path and much of the philosophy that I had read, and pretty much relegated to the text books, became very transparent during those 21 days or hardship, relaxation, euphoria, depression, physical exertion, pain and anxiety.

Looking back it was a remarkable

journey of exploration through the most dramatic and awesome scenery in the world, as well as a journey of self exploration. The first time I had experienced, ‘trekking’, as such was in Nepal, this comprised a short five day hike starting in Pokhara and walking a short circuit through some beautiful landscape to Poon Hill at an altitude of 3210 metres.

Trekking the Path

Daily walks were relatively short in duration of about four or five hours and at the end of the day I stayed in small hotels. I use the word loosely, primarily small basic rooms with either solar showers or cold water and basic meals of rice and vegetables.

comparison to the 21 day trek, this was a walk in the park with luxury accommodation and often solar showers. What was to come was a world far away from the niceties of Nepal. The opportunity to undertake the trek through Kashmir, Zanskar and Ladakh came about mainly because of my girl-friend Natasha's influence; she was a seasoned and keen trekker having undertaken several hard treks and she had also walked to Everest base camp. When the suggestion to undertake a 21 day trek through some of the most remote and high altitude areas of Northern India and Kashmir was first muted, my first reaction was, shall we say, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;reluctantâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, knowing from my limited experience in Nepal what I felt like just walking those five days to Poon Hill in Nepal, frankly I hated the idea. There were times in Nepal when I could have easily throttled my guide, I am fundamentally a lazy slob and the idea of exercise has always been hard for me, I only have to look at chocolate and I put on weight, so I have always had to exercise or at least control what eat, to avoid becoming a balloon. Walking uphill for five hours a day was hard, at times I just wanted to sit down and grow roots. I craved meat instead of rice and vegetables every day and would have probably committed a heinous crime for a beer; however the rewards of seeing the highest snow capped Himalayan peaks at altitude, the beautiful verdant forests and raging rivers, were definitely worth the effort. But the thought of 21 days through even harsher territory, higher passes, longer walking hours and sleeping in a tent, filled me with horror. I hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t slept in a tent since my days in the military and I remember only too well the sleepless nights, the damp and the cold, the discomfort and pain, and that was over forty years ago. So it took some convincing,

Trekking the Path

but ego took over, as it generally does, and I thought, no problem, I can do this and it’s only just less than four weeks, surely it can’t be that difficult, this was to be the understatement of the century. The ego can be a strange motivator, Buddhist philosophy describes the ego as, ‘empty’, we often see ourselves as something very solid and permanent, yet the person we were five minutes ago is not the same person we are five minutes later, there are minute changes, you only have to see how we were as a child and compare to how we are now to see that change takes place over time. Our perception is that there is no change, yet how did we become an adult? What we thought and aspired to as a child, is completely different to what we think now and probably will again be different in another 20 years time. We view phenomena from our own perspective and everything we see, feel, touch, smell, taste or think is a projection of that perception. Our perception of, ‘self’ is also a projection. If the self really existed as we think it does, where does it exist? Is self part of our brain; is it part of our body, our arms or legs? If it was, then if we remove a part of the brain, as is done in some brain surgery, are we any less of our self? If we lose our eyesight, an arm or a leg, are we any less of our self? Of course not, so our perception of our self is just a projection, it’s a comfortable way to view what we are, but it is misguided, because in viewing our self in this way we also view the world in a similar misguided way.

This perception of reality, according to Buddhism, causes

suffering, we see what we want to see, we categorise phenomena into boxes, we like this, we don’t like that, we want this, we don’t want that, we love this, we hate that. In viewing phenomena in this way we respond from an already misguided viewpoint. Suffering is caused through contaminated action caused by underlying disturbing emotions. The disturbing emotions are attachment, anger, greed and hatred and the contaminated actions are the thoughts we think and the actions we take based upon our

Trekking the Path

false perception of reality. That’s not to say things don’t exist, of course they do, you walk into a tree and it will hurt, it’s harder and bigger than you, but it’s the way that we perceive the tree that’s important. What we see we call a tree, we tend to make it permanent, solid and unchanging. Yet the tree didn’t just appear, it grew from a seed, it ages and it dies, it undergoes change dependent upon causes and conditions.

All

phenomena in the universe are dependent upon causes and conditions, our very thoughts also derive from causes and conditions. How we view the world and all phenomena drives our emotions, if our view is incorrect then our emotional response will also be influenced accordingly. So what is the correct view? The correct view is to understand that everything changes, nothing is static, everything is dependent upon something else, our very lives are dependent upon other factors, just a fractional change in our environment can cause us to be sick, unhappy, euphoric or depressed, because we see things as unchanging and permanent and we then exaggerate their qualities and attach our selves to this view, hence when change occurs, as it of course will, we become agitated, anxious, disappointed, angry or sad. If we view phenomena from a correct standpoint we will at least understand that change is inevitable and be prepared for it.

Therefore the expression, ‘suffering is

derived from contaminated action underlying by the disturbing emotions’, stems from this contaminated view of reality. My view of reality was certainly contaminated when I agreed to go on a 21 day trek through the Himalayas, I thought I was fit and wasn’t, I thought my resolve was strong, it wasn’t, and I thought it would be rather cool to bathe in mountain rivers, it wasn’t, and overall I didn’t think it would be that bad a trip, it was! I never quite believed just how much you actually need for a 21 day hike! At least ten days would be crossing nine passes through very remote territory, remote as in, no

Trekking the Path

shops, villages or hot water and no shops meant no food, so what you ate, you carried. Now unless one specifically has the desire to drag a rucksack the size of Tesco’s, it’s best to have someone else carry your stuff, an easy thing to organise one may think, but it turns out its not so easy at all. First you need a guide, unless you want to find yourself dragging your tired sorry ass halfway up the wrong mountain. By a guide, I actually mean someone experienced in all things outdoors and not some guy who ‘tells’ you he is experienced, for a trek of this intensity you do not want to put your life in the hands of some moron who just happens to charge half the fee of the guy who actually knows what he’s doing. One also requires ponies or horses to drag all the kit you need to take with you, food, water, tents, sleeping bags, cooking gas, the guide’s tent, the cook’s tent and all manner of things that you would most likely forget to take if you tried to do it yourself. One also requires transport between locations in the form of a jeep to be able to transport all the stuff you need for the next leg. Certain parts of the trek had no walking trails and unless dodging roaring trucks, angry Yaks and wayward motorcycles is your thing, you will need to be transported to the new trail by Jeep. Faced with the daunting task of organising such an expedition, I did the only sensible thing and paid for someone, more experienced, to do it for me. Within a few days an itinerary, although somewhat flexible, was organised.

A jeep would take us from McLeod Ganj to

Pahalgam in Kashmir. At Pahalgam we would stay in a hotel, with a real bed and even more real hot water. From Pahalgam a two day, ‘walking orientation’, in actuality, I think this was more for my benefit so that our guide could verify if my walking skills were up to it and that I wouldn’t keel over with exhaustion after just five minutes. Following this orientation we would start the trek properly, with tents and stuff. The first day we would walk to Aru, then day two to Lidderwat, day three, Kalahoi glacier, day four to Seikwas, day five to Tar-Sar lake and then finally day six to Sonemarg where we would pick up

Trekking the Path

transport to take us to Kargil and then on to the next trekking point called Padum in Zanskar. From Padum we would trek for ten days all the way to Lamayuru, crossing nine passes and reaching altitudes in excess of 5500 metres, thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s almost 17,000 feet. The basic itinerary would be from Padum to Lamayuru via Karsha, Pishu, Hanumil, Purfi La, Hanuma La, Lingshet, Singue La, Sirsir La, Hanupatta, Wanla and finally Lamayuru. Overall the trek would cover a distance of 85 miles or 136 Km. A long way certainly in my book and looking back now, I was totally unprepared both mentally and physically. That is precisely what I meant by a contaminated view of reality, or was it simply inexperience? Perhaps it is actually both. Firstly, inexperience because I had never before undertaken an arduous trek such as this. And secondly, a completely contaminated view of my capability. As with all journeys; one needs a goal or plan, adequate preparation, the correct equipment, a competent guide and, of course, the enthusiasm to undertake the journey. The same applies to the Buddhist path, the goal may differ from person to person depending upon their aspiration and ability, but essentially one aspires towards achieving stable happiness, escape from suffering and ultimately enlightenment the highest goal. Perhaps the most important aspect of such a path would be to have an experienced guide, this would usually be a Lama if you follow Tibetan Buddhism, you can of course attend teachings by experienced teachers, or read books and there are literally thousands of extremely good and well written books available, but without a guide, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s easy to get stuck or even lost. The texts emphasise the importance of a spiritual guide and often go to great lengths to describe how to identify one, but perhaps the simple advice would be to first find someone with whom you feel a connection and then observe them over a period of time, some texts suggest observing a potential

Trekking the Path

teacher for many years, however my own experience shows that you know when someone is right for you. Again the parallels of trekking and Buddhism become apparent and there are certain rules to observe. When trekking you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t wander out of sight of the guide, you adhere to a safety code so that you minimise risk, for example you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t veer off the trail or try to take an unknown or untried shortcut. On the spiritual path you do pretty much the same, there are many who will claim to have found shortcuts or alternative paths and, trust me on this, there are some oddballs out there in all spiritual undertakings. The Buddha described a path, which has for all intent and purpose, remained unchanged for over 2500 years, it is tried and tested and, although there maybe different schools of Buddhist practice, and some of the differences are often difficult to understand, but they are all in principal similar. All Buddhist schools adopt the Four Noble Truths as well as the Four Seals. The first seal being that all compound things are impermanent, meaning that everything, either physical or mental, are dependent upon other factors and as such are impermanent or changing, the second Seal is that all emotions are pain, even those emotions perceived to be good such as happiness, exhilaration, ecstasy, etc. all are suffering because eventually they change, the third Seal is that all things have no inherent existence, meaning that everything we observe, think and feel are empty of inherent existence from their own side and they are dependent upon circumstances, causes and conditions for their existence. The last and fourth Seal is that Nirvana is beyond concepts. To describe a state, which cannot be experienced until enlightenment is beyond description. These principals plus a life of non-violence, observation of a moral code, meditative contemplation and the aspiration to achieve enlightenment all are adopted regardless of the Buddhist system.

Trekking the Path

My decision was made and the, ‘To Trek’, won over the ‘Not to Trek’. Equipment was purchased, guides were hired, and the day drew nearer when I would actually put into practice the art of trekking.

To be honest, I was terrified and I remember the

tiredness and muscle pain of the Nepal mini-trek, I recalled with anxiety, the precipitous drops and seemingly endless plodding ever upward, yet there was a certain level of exhilaration and anticipated excitement that, at least for the time being, overcame the anxiety. I was going to some of the most beautiful parts of India, I would be climbing the highest peaks and traversing the most spectacular scenery on the planet, how could this be bad? The day finally arrived, it was 4 a.m. on the morning of the 23rd August 2007, Natasha and I left the relative comfort of our small apartment in McLeod Ganj and, armed with full rucksacks, we climbed the stone steps behind the apartment and headed towards the place where our jeep was waiting to take us on our journey. By the time we arrived at the meeting point, approximately ten minutes away, I was knackered, if I was this unfit after only a short walk, how on earth was I going to manage walking at high altitude for up to nine hours a day?

The journey had begun, my fit girlfriend was

brimming with anticipation and energy, and I was brimming with trepidation, tiredness and fear!

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 3 Let the Journey Commence The road to Jammu and Kashmir was quite good; I guess the Indian military had a hand in its construction to take the weight of all those tanks. The journey took us down the narrow winding switchback road from Mcleod Ganj to lower Dharamsala. This road barely allows two vehicles to pass with steep drops on one side and forested slopes on the other, during monsoon season (June to September), the torrential rain often undermines the poor surface and the road frequently collapses altogether, or a mudslide deposits soil, rocks and boulders onto the road blocking it for days.

From

Dharamsala the road widens a little and about a kilometre out of town, winds its way down into the Kangra valley. A strong back is required for long road trips in India, as most vehicles lack the modern suspension systems found in the West, bone crunching potholes litter the highway and it is not uncommon for an occasional hidden speed bump to propel your head into the roof of the vehicle. There is also the phenomena of ‘Indian driving’, the theory being is that, in general, vehicles have to drive on the left, but there are various exceptions to this rule such as, falling asleep, overtaking, dogs, cows, mudslides, puddles, potholes, goats, Sadhu’s, bicycles and other varied obstacles. In fact, so frequent are these obstacles that it almost makes driving on the left, a virtual impossibility and hence you will experience a roller-coaster journey pretty much from start to finish. Collisions do happen with alarming frequency and range from mild shunts to full head on carnage. This particular journey was, thankfully, free from such events and other occasional brain jarring emergency stops. The Jammu road is an extremely busy route, it is fairly well maintained as the military use it a great deal to ferry troops and equipment to the highly sensitive and much beleaguered area of Jammu-Kashmir.

Trekking the Path

Brightly decorated trucks, army vehicles, troop carriers, tankers, rickety buses and all manner of transport litter the highway day and night, it was a long and tiring journey, but the scenery is amazing as one climbs towards the Jawahar Tunnel high in the Peer Panjhal range of mountains connecting Jammu with Kashmir.

The journey was

frequently halted with numerous border stops, passport checks, luggage checks and other formalities as one approached this sensitive area of India. Climbing higher and higher the road eventually reaches the huge Jawahar tunnel, this marvel of engineering is 2.5 kilometres in length at an altitude of 2194m above sea level and is the longest tunnel in Asia, it is cut through the heart of the Peer Panjhal mountain range and runs under the Banihal Pass connecting Jammu with the Kashmir valley, it was completed in 1959 and is frequently impassable due to heavy snowfall and avalanches throughout the winter season. In fact a huge avalanche, due to an earthquake, closed the tunnel in 2005. Passage through the tunnel was slow due to the large number of trucks and buses that laboriously made their way through the rock tunnel like a line of elephants crossing the savannah. The metres crept by minute by minute as the dim tunnel lighting cast eerie shadows across the rock face lining the road. Eventually a pinprick of light ahead indicated that we were approaching the Kashmir side of the pass.

Sunlight

blasted the road with a fierce intensity after the dark passage through the Jawahar tunnel. It would be another several hours before we were to reach our destination as the road wound its precipitous way back down the mountain. I suddenly noticed that there was no more rain, we had left the monsoon behind for the drier climate of Kashmir, and it was as if the Jawahar tunnel had created its own climate border. The hours ticked by as did the endless miles, villages bounced past in colourful busyness as I drifted in and out of a fitful sleep and the frequent potholes jarred me to consciousness.

Trekking the Path

Someone once said , ‘life is a journey, not a destination’, I guess most of the time we hardly notice life passing us by, one day we are in school, the next in we are in college, then work, then one morning we look in the bathroom mirror and see a middle aged person staring back at us. Time passes regardless of how quickly or slowly we want it to, it is relentless and indiscriminate and when we experience good times, we wish that time could stand still, and in times of distress or pain, we wish it would race ahead to carry us away from the suffering. How often have you said to yourself or others on a dreary Monday morning, ‘I wish it were the weekend’, or at other times perhaps in the arms of a loved one, ‘I wish this moment would last forever’, we seem never to be satisfied, rarely content and often wishing our life away. In fact our life is ruled by two phenomena, craving and aversion. We crave those things that bring us happiness, pleasure, nice feelings and beautiful images. We love it when our friends say nice things about us, or our boss praises us for doing a great job. We will, in fact, do anything to flood our senses with the things that make us feel good, nice food and drink, drugs, love affairs, nice cars, houses, vacations and even computers, in fact, anything that gives us pleasure. We also develop aversion to those things that cause us pain and unhappiness. We will avoid, at any cost, anything that appears ugly to our senses, unpleasant food, people, places and situations. When we hear harsh words spoken against us, we immediately become angry or annoyed, adrenaline pumps into our system making that horrible churning stomach feeling inside us. Craving and aversion, there is no in-between and we are drawn towards craving and we recoil from aversion.

So what’s wrong with being attracted to nice things and

avoiding unpleasant things you may ask? Surely, it’s our nature, we all want to be happy and none of us want to suffer so what’s so wrong with that?

Trekking the Path

The problem here is that our lives are ruled by these two strong emotions, they are so strong that we experience them physically; in fact we experience all emotions physically, but hardly recognise the feelings.

A strong emotion such as hatred, for

example, makes you tremble with rage, your stomach ties itself in knots, your blood pressure rises and often you have little control over your actions, rage ensues and you will speak and act out of control, often regretting the words spoken, or action taken when the anger subsides. The opposite is also true, when something happens that is so wonderful, your senses are flooded with sensations, again your blood pressure increases, endorphins and other hormones course through the body, creating sensations of absolute pleasure, such as, when experiencing orgasm, your body is momentarily out of control.

To a greater or lesser extent aversion and craving manifest physical

sensations, which strengthen our habitual responses, these responses eventually become part of our very nature, moulding and shaping our behaviour often to extremes. From a Buddhist perspective all of our actions are as a result of delusion, we do not see things from a true perspective, we rush through the Jawahar tunnel of life, re-acting rather than acting. From the moment our senses detect a phenomena, something seen, felt, smelled, tasted or heard, even thought, a sensation arises and we determine instantly if such a phenomena is nice or nasty, good or bad, aversion or craving arises and in an instant, we respond, all this takes place in a nano-second and without hardly any thought at all, we react. This is what is meant by delusion; our actions are controlled by our underlying disturbed emotions. Therefore our actions can only be performed from a deluded perspective, even if the action appears to be good, it is more by luck than judgment and most of the time the actions give rise to new results, which in themselves create new deluded actions.

Trekking the Path

The Buddha said that all life is ‘Dukka’ or suffering, even if we feel great, happy, satisfied, relaxed or successful, it is all still suffering, because eventually circumstances will change and we will feel horrible, miserable, moody and unhappy. The reason being, is that we always act and behave as though everything is permanent, concrete and everlasting, intellectually we may understand that things change, but moment by moment we do not see things that way. Take for example craving, we see a beautiful house, job, car, man or woman, we then start to focus on the good qualities of this object, after a while we become delusional and exaggerate these qualities as our craving increases, ‘wow if I had that car it would be great, imagine the smell of the leather, the speed of acceleration, how people and friends, even enemies will envy me in this amazing car’, it’s almost as if the car itself had mystical properties, yet it’s just a collection of bits of metal and plastic, but not to our delusional senses, this car is now almost magical with awesome properties well beyond its actual components. We then stretch ourselves financially, our emotions fire up in anticipation of acquiring this magical beast that will transform our lives. Six months later someone reverses into your prized possession and crumples the door. Immediately frustration and anger arises and the once magical car now causes suffering, anger and even aversion. Yet had this car possessed the ability to create happiness then surely it could not now cause suffering? The same applies to all phenomena, the new relationship, or the new job. They all started out with such wonderful properties that your deluded mind had exaggerated beyond any reality, only to fail to live up to the image that you created through delusion and eventually cause suffering. The same applies to aversion, we build up the negative qualities with equal enthusiasm and exaggeration, that co-worker who said something we didn’t like, or the person in the bar who pushed his way through knocking your drink from your hand, your

Trekking the Path

girlfriends ex-lover, or your boss, even the once beloved friend who turned against you. As we focus on the negative qualities more delusion arises, more aversion is created and we deepen our exaggerated view. Yet if that person, or object, we so hated were to possess the properties that we actually attributed to them, then everyone who encountered them would have the same aversion, which is clearly not the case. So what is the solution? If everything ends in suffering and everything we encounter causes us suffering eventually, what’s the point? We may as well give up now. This viewpoint is of course extremist and nihilistic, we have to understand that phenomena do not always appear as we necessarily see them. It is only our habitual responses and lack of understanding of reality that clouds our perception. Once we start to glimpse the true nature of things, only then can we start to understand the causes and conditions that create aversion and craving, they are the shovels that dig the holes that we sink ourselves into. Of course this process can not be done without direction from an experienced guide, there is no ‘reality’ pill you can take, no ‘tantric sexual path of inner awakening through kicking your Kundalini up the butt’, weekend solution. It takes effort, guidance, enthusiasm and perseverance, but every journey starts with a single step on the path, or as in my case, a twelve hour bone jarring drive across the Peer Panjhal Mountains.

CHAPTER 4 There’s No Turning Back Now The jeep arrived in Pahalgam at about 7 p.m. and the roads appeared to be well maintained, there were even pavements to be seen, not only that, but also street lighting that worked. This was extremely unusual for most of India, the usual vague line that

Trekking the Path

divides the road from the sidewalk, is almost non-existent in most Indian towns, except for places like Delhi, Mumbai and other large cities. Most times one simply guesses the mystical road-pavement divide and dodges rickshaws, bicycles and other meandering vehicles, often taking life threatening risks in doing so, but here in Pahalgam the paved area was a good six inches above the road with a well-lit wide pedestrian area and paving stones that did not trip you up unexpectedly. In addition, there was a distinct lack of rotting garbage piled up in the streets. The level of garbage in India is a pervasive problem, which seems to affect every strata of life. Certainly where I live in Mcleod Ganj, the level of garbage is rising to monumental levels. People seem to have little, or no, regard for the environment and you often see split bags of rubbish lining the street and even the forested areas. People throw empty cigarette packets from car windows, fruit juice boxes, empty crisp bags and, worst of all, plastic water bottles. It is not just the tourists either; even the locals will throw their garbage anywhere they feel like doing. In Dharamsala, Himachal Pradesh, there is, thanks to a more Enlightened town council, a ban on plastic bags, there is even a rubbish skip that is collected weekly, yet people still throw their garbage over balconies, out of car windows and dump piles of rubbish on the forest trails, the local monkey population add to the problem by tossing it around an even wider area. A small pile of rubbish will often act as a magnet for other rubbish miscreants and the pile grows. Do they really think that it will magically disappear? Or perhaps, the great rubbish God will mystically vaporise it into the great garbage Nirvana. Education is needed at the most basic level to attack this issue, which is prevalent throughout all of India. I recall, with great sadness, a beautiful beach in Goa called Arambul, a small cove of beautiful sand. A local festival was organised on the beach where tents and stalls were erected attracting hundreds of tourists, Indian and international alike. The following morning the

Trekking the Path

beach looked like a rubbish tip; there was hardly an inch of sand that was not covered with ice cream wrappers, cigarette packets, plastic bottles or other such eye sore material. Yet here in Pahalgam there were rubbish bins and hardly any street litter in sight, which I guess goes to prove that it can be done. Compassion is an overriding factor in all the Buddhist belief systems, universal love and understanding brings peace and harmony. This is easily seen in oneself, if you are distressed, angry, frustrated or hurt, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a painful experience that clouds your very existence and can last for days at a time, even the things you once found pleasurable, become tainted and no longer satisfying. Even the people around you become affected by your bad mood and want to run away. Yet when you feel good, or someone praises you, loves you or simply smiles at you, one feels great to be alive and all is well with the world. Even the things you dislike are more tolerable. When you are compassionate towards others, this is always accompanied by a great feeling of inner peace and joy. Compassion is not feeling sorry for someone, it is not just empathy for their situation, and it certainly is not some â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;do-goodersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; theory. Real compassion is almost selfish, because real compassion brings peace to oneself; genuine compassion is active involvement and not some romantic idealism that exists in holy books or fairy tales. Real compassion means having regard for all sentient beings welfare and not just your own, it means being aware of the effects that your own actions have upon others, so often we react through old habitual pathways, responding to anger with anger, trading insult for insult and not caring what we say, or do to those around us. Compassion is such a small word that has such an expansive meaning, it includes; tolerance, patience, understanding, caring and responsibility.

The feeling you experience when doing

something for someone else brings great pleasure and immense satisfaction, you can probably remember occasions when you bought someone a gift, or did something

Trekking the Path

helpful, and those memories often stay for a long time bringing feelings of contentment and peace. Hence compassion is selfishly motivated because it makes you feel good and there is nothing wrong with that at all, in fact, when you are compassionate towards all beings and less concerned with your self, your actions of speech, body and mind coalesce, bringing with it equanimity and a tranquillity and peace of mind that is lasting. However, compassion is not an easy thing to accomplish, it is not for the feint of heart because we are driven by self motivation and gratification, thinking mostly of ourselves before others, this attitude increases our suffering and brings dissatisfaction, discontent, frustration and anger. If those who threw away their rubbish indiscriminately practised compassion, they would see the suffering such an action could cause, to see a small animal trapped in a plastic ring slowly suffocating and dying a painful death, or a cow eating a plastic bag, which eventually lodges in its stomach causing immense pain and suffering, or the disease that ensues as the rubbish rots attracting bacteria, fungal spores, rats and other creatures that may spread disease. Knowing the potential consequences of ones actions makes one stop and think, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;will this cause harm or sufferingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, this applies to all situations, a harsh word, an unconcerned action, or, a moment of temper, compassion is stopping to think about the possible consequences to others, or intervening in a situation that could cause harm or suffering, this is compassion in action, not simply words or good thoughts, but active participation. The clean streets of Pahalgam brought a sense of well-being and order to an otherwise chaotic country. The Hotel Himalaya was a beautiful house situated near the river, with a small garden and homely atmosphere.

The room was small, but

comfortable and we were tired from our long journey, after a cup of hot Masala Chai, we retired to bed and slept the sleep of the exhausted.

Trekking the Path

We awoke to the sound of rain and after a hot shower ventured outside into the garden to access the small dining room where breakfast was being served. The sky was overcast and the distant hills were covered with ominous rain clouds.

By the time

breakfast was finished, sunshine was slowly emerging as the clouds gradually parted to reveal an azure blue sky. The distant hills came into view, green and verdant forests covered the countryside as far as one could see.

Our guide, Ramzan, introduced

himself to us and said that he had planned a short walk to ‘acclimatise’ ourselves. He was Kashmiri born and bred in the locality of Pahalgam, his tanned face and silver wavy hair gave him a distinctive military demeanour, he stood strong, proud and erect with a permanent smile on a mouth that was overshadowed by a thick moustache, he, like most Kashmiri’s of his generation, was denied an education and as such was illiterate, however, what ever Ramzan may have lacked in reading and writing skills was immensely compensated by his life experience and wonderful character, he came over as a confident, caring and compassionate man who would face any adversity with courage and strength. We could not have wished for a better, more qualified, guide and so we returned to the room, donned walking boots and light mid-layer clothing, a small back-pack with wet weather gear in case the rain returned, and we were ready for our ‘short’ walk. With Ramzan grinning broadly, we started our walk heading down the narrow lane through the small village and heading out of Pahalgam towards the river. Our trekking had started and my initial trepidation and lack of self confidence was diminished and my confidence was boosted by our charismatic guide. I was not to fully understand the full implication of Ramzan’s idea of a short stroll and my short lived energy and vigour was soon to be challenged as it had never been challenged before.

Trekking the Path

The path meandered alongside the foaming river; small cascading waterfalls danced their way over rocks and boulders. The conifer forest loomed to our right as we continued to walk along the riverside. The sun shone and the clouds disappeared to reveal a beautiful autumn day, the colours of the forest vibrant, as rays of sunlight pierced the canopy, the rushing sound of water a constant companion. I thought that this was fantastic, here I was, walking in the foothills of the Himalayas, in one of the most scenic places on the planet, this was going to be easy, or so I thought. After about an hour, Ramzan turned from the river path and headed up a steep embankment, the path weaving in and out of the forest heading ever upwards. My legs started to ache after about 30 minutes of climbing and my lungs began to burn after about an hour.

wheezed a feeble request to stop for breath. The path was now about 500 metres above the river bed, the river was crashing its way through the valley and the distant hills were magnificent in their cloak of green. I, however, was a wheezing, aching wreck. My legs hurt, my feet ached and I was ready to go and lie down. Natasha showed no signs of weariness whatsoever and she could not understand why I was such a wimp. Ramzan laughed and his powerful legs trudged on and upwards once more. I had the feeling he was simply strolling whilst I, on the other hand, felt that I was being dragged up the side of Everest. After a further hour of climbing, the path breached the summit and the views were amazing the river below a small thread of silver in the valley, its sound still powerful even at this distance. I collapsed to the ground in an exhausted heap, complaining of aches and pains, Natasha looked vibrant, a picture of health and she was not even breathing hard. Ramzan looked slightly worried and I found out later that he had started to experience some doubts as to my ability on the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;realâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; trek to come. This was, after all, a mere amble in the woods compared to the 18,000 ft passes to come. If Ramzan had some trepidation, I was becoming terrified, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d only done about

Trekking the Path

three hours on a small incline and was completely knackered, not only that but we had another two hours ahead of us to get back. My mind churned, as did my stomach, (which later transpired to be violent diarrhoea due to a small noxious parasite called Giardia Lamblia, a microscopic life form which instantly turns all stomach based contents into liquid fire that could most likely propel a small satellite into orbit), I was unfit to say the least and this was only the start, there were another 20 days of this torture, how would I cope, why was I here, what insanity thought that I could do this? By the time we arrived back at the hotel it was mid afternoon and I was toast! All I wanted to do was shower and sleep, oh yes, and sit on a toilet for a few hours. My mood was not great, I think one could even call it ‘grumpy’, I ate dinner, took four tablets of Tinidazole to murder the Giardia, said very little and went to bed; at least the burning in my chest had subsided only to be replaced by the burning in my rear end. My legs still ached and my poor feet complained bitterly. I slept the sleep of the dead. The following morning I awoke to beautiful sunshine, my tummy only mildly uncomfortable, at least the jet propelled diarrhoea had diminished. Natasha and I went for a stroll into the town of Pahalgam. It was about an hours walk and helped to sooth the aching muscles in my legs. Pahalgam was a small, one street, town with a little square of shops. I decided to purchase a Salwar Chemise, a traditional combination of baggy trousers and long shirt, ideal for the climate and worn by virtually all Kashmiri men. Mine was ready made from a very fine cotton material, soft and comfortable in a light creamy beige, I was delighted with my purchase and we headed back to the hotel for yet another, ‘excursion’ organised by Ramzan. This time the walk was a little longer in duration, again following the river trail for an hour or so and then heading upwards through the forest. Although tired and a little weakened by the previous evenings explosive ablutions, I seemed to enjoy walking, the pain was not as intense and my

Trekking the Path

lungs were not screaming for air as they had done the previous day. After several hours of uphill climbing we emerged onto a beautiful green pasture high up in the foothills. It reminded me somewhat of the Queens golf course at Gleneagles, trust me here Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not a golfer, I was invited to play there by my then father in law and I spent more time grovelling around in briar and heather patches searching for my ball than I did actually playing golf. However, this place was no man-made fairway, but an area of beauty manicured to perfection by nature herself. I lay down on the soft grass taking in the beauty around me, the snow capped granite peaks, the forest clad hills, this was serenely beautiful on a major scale, even though my feet hurt and my muscles were sore, all seemed insignificant in this little piece of heaven. That was at least until the arduous climb back down again, but even so, the pain was anaesthetised by the glorious colours of the forest, the amazing sounds and smells, the rushing river, wild, wonderful nature at its best. There were mushrooms sprouting everywhere and it was all I could do to stop Natasha picking them to prepare some exotic Russian soup.

It was also the

place where I fell off my first bridge! We arrived at a small stream crossing, looking back at this event, I now think Ramzan was testing my trekking skills, it was a small ditch only about two metres deep, a large tree had been placed across the span, Ramzan and Natasha tripped the light fantastic across the trunk as if it were a suspension bridge. I did, however, manage three paces, hovered, compensated, re-compensated, overcompensated and fell headlong into the stream below. This did not bode well; I made a mental note to avoid log bridges that spanned anything more than a metre. Ramzan laughed heartily as I scrambled up the bank. We arrived back at the hotel tired and weary, but I had survived another day, perhaps after all I would gradually acclimatise my ancient body to this journey. The trek proper would begin the next day 26th August, the

Trekking the Path

first destination would be a place called Aru, there was no going back now, I was committed, let the trekking commence.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 5 Let the Trekking Commence It was still dark as we awoke, showered, dressed and finished our packing; we walked into the cool morning air to the small dining room to eat a hearty breakfast of eggs, coffee and Chapatti in readiness for the long day ahead.

I was a little

apprehensive as this was, in my own mind at least, the real deal. The trek was to start properly, no more short walks with a hot shower to look forward at the finish, the nights would from here on in, be spent under canvas, (or whatever modern poly-something-orother material they used these days). No more hot showers; more like freezing cold baths in glacial rivers and certainly none of the numerous stops I often requested to gather breath.

This was going to be hard and my nervous stomach was doing

cartwheels as all sorts of questions popped into my head, ‘what on earth was I thinking, maybe I can back out now before we start out, what if I fall over and break something, what if I get sick, what if I can’t tolerate altitude, what if I’m attacked by a raging Yak, what if I fall down a bottomless ravine?’ Landslides, earthquakes and all manner of things that can kill you, ravaged my poor brain. So many inane questions arose in my paranoid mind.

Fear is an amazing

phenomenon, conjuring up all sorts of terrifying scenarios, all of course the result of an over-active imagination. I had survived two days of reasonably arduous walking and, after all, this was simply more of the same, so what was I worrying about? ‘Lions and tigers and bears, lions and tigers and bears, lions and tigers and bears, as quoted by Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, sprang to mind and made me laugh. For a while at least the fear evaporated and we met up with Ramzan and his friend, Razak, another Kashmiri, although a little more serious looking than Ramzan, Razak

Trekking the Path

also showed that powerful demeanour so indigenous of the mountain men of this region. As we walked to the front of the Hotel Himalaya, I was astonished by the huge amount of stuff piled up outside that I presumed was in readiness for our trek, but I thought, surely this was enough for 20 people not just two! There were tin boxes, bags, packs, sacks of vegetables, bags of rice, gas cylinders, tents, stoves and cardboard boxes galore, you would think we were going to Everest. My trepidation returned with vengeance and the knots in my stomach would have made a boy scout proud. So much stuff I could not believe it was all for us and an even more disconcerting thought was, who was going to carry this lot? At least that particular fear was soon put to rest as a small troop of ponies trudged up the path towards us. There were three ponies and two men leading them, the ponies looked half starved to start with, but then again so did the men that led them. As dawn broke and the sky gradually began to show signs of light, the ponies were duly packed and literally sagged under the weight of all the stuff. I felt momentarily guilty that I was going to cause suffering to these poor beasts, but insufficiently guilty as to suggest I carried any of the burden myself.

So that particular moment of compassion soon

evaporated, however I did feel sorry for the beasts. The moment arrived and I was jolted from my reverie by Ramzan who slapped me on the back and said that we were going.

Walking stick in hand and dressed

appropriately in my North Face trousers, Columbia trekking boots and a light (Nepal knock off) North face fleece, the first steps were taken. There would be no turning back now, this was it, and Natasha looked glowingly healthy as she strided off at a fair pace ahead of me, whilst I looked glowingly terrified and trudged off in reluctant pursuit as the ponies and their leaders ambled behind. The path headed away from the Hotel and very soon we were on a dirt track with the river to our left. After about an hour of walking, we came to a bend in the road and a small bridge lay ahead. We crossed the over the

Trekking the Path

bridge, which spanned the fast flowing river below and continued along the road to a beautiful green pasture. By this time the sky was crystal clear with not a cloud in sight, a light breeze chilled the morning air, which was perfect for walking. My fears had once again evaporated and I was enjoying the walk, admittedly it was a horizontal walk and so far, not at all taxing. The mountains in the distance looked stunning, yet somehow daunting as I knew that we would not only be approaching them, but climbing them in a few days hence, but for now all was well with my world. The road continued alongside the river and we began ascending through banks of tall grass, ferns and bushes, pale blue flowers swayed in the slight breeze and the sounds of the forest competed with the rushing river. I could not help but notice the abundance of Marijuana plants growing wild all around us, I had long since given up smoking the stuff, but had I still indulged, it was all around us and ripe for the picking. Ramzan grabbed a leafy plant and began to roll the weed between his hands, he told me that the locals collected the plants and made Charas or Hashish and sold it for about ten dollars a Tolar, about ten grams. I was told it was potent stuff, but as those days were behind me, I was not at all tempted, it was hard enough walking with a clear head, let alone half comatose in a hash-haze.

As we climbed even higher the views were

astoundingly beautiful, the silver thread of the river below, the granite snow capped peaks ahead and the rolling green hills all around. This was truly an amazing place to be and at least for a while all thoughts of landslides and wild yak attacks were far behind me. The path now started to head back down towards the river, we had traversed a small hill and the sound of the crashing river lay ahead. We approached two bridges and as we drew closer it was apparent that one bridge was of a fairly sturdy construction with steel girders and wooden planks, however the other bridge did not look as though it

Trekking the Path

could support anything larger than a small frog. Of course we crossed the frog bridge! Half the planks were rotten and the bridge swayed alarmingly as we crossed over, my heart fluttered momentarily, but we soon reached the other side with no incident, although I imagine the next frog who attempted it was doomed to plunge into the raging froth below. The trail ascended once again only this time a bit steeper than before. The path narrowed as we continued upwards and the familiar lung burning began after about an hour as did the heaviness of my legs, I also noticed that I was lagging behind everyone else, except for the ponies, who were trudging their way some distance behind me. My small ruck-sack, which was only lightly packed with an additional fleece and a camera, felt like I was carrying several large house-bricks and I was sweating profusely. Finally early in the afternoon, we stopped at a wide grassy clearing; this was Aru, our first destination. It was a beautiful area surrounded by forest, the awesome Himalayan range just visible above the trees and a small babbling stream close by. The ponies arrived and all the stuff was unpacked, Natasha instructed me in the art of tent-making and we were soon resting after a hard half day walk. Well at least for me it was hard; no-one else even broke a sweat.

Soon the air was filled with the

wonderful smells of something cooking and hot Chai was served with biscuits in the cooksâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; tent. This was the life, the great outdoors, tea and bikkies, slightly sore feet and a glorious sunny afternoon. After many cups of tea and at least a packet of biscuits it was time to have a wash. My first experience of cold water washing in a river was not at all bad; in fact it was quite refreshing. Maybe this was not going to be as bad as I has expected. As the sun set over the mountains and the stars gradually filled the night sky like little pinholes of brilliant light on a velvet background, evening arrived with a delicious meal, soup, vegetable curry and freshly cooked Chapatti, followed by hot tea.

Trekking the Path

The first day was over, I had not been attacked by a wild Yak, fallen down a ravine or broken anything. Most fears that we experience are exaggerated beyond what actually exists in reality. Our deluded minds distort what we see and hear to create an illusion so real that our hearts race, blood pressure increases and our sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems compete with each other in a game of ‘tug of war’. One part of our body, the Sympathetic nervous System, prepares us for ‘fright and flight’ sending adrenaline coursing though our blood circulation preparing us for any threat we may encounter. On the other hand our Para-Sympathetic Nervous System slows down our pulse rate, makes our pupils contract and stimulates digestion as it tries to normalise our body. The mind can play tricks with us and, as I have outlined before, our senses receive information, which we then interpret as either a good sensation or bad, yet this observation is based upon an incorrect view of reality that causes disturbing emotions, which then cause us to react with contaminated action. This cycle continues causing us to swing between happy and depressed states of mind. Life becomes a see-saw of emotional behaviour that is largely uncontrolled. Imagine you are walking along a path, it is evening and the light is slowly diminishing. Ahead you see something coiled in the middle of the path, a snake perhaps, your mind then starts to exaggerate the threat, not only is it a snake, it’s a huge poisonous cobra with massive fangs ready to strike you. As you approach, your heart rate increases, you start to sweat as sheer terror and panic sets in, you are petrified waiting for the monster to attack, just then a friend shines a torch onto the coiled object and you see that it is just a rope. Your fears disintegrate and you feel somewhat foolish. What you saw as a snake was very real at the time, yet it was simply a rope and your mind did the rest. We do this with all situations to which we have aversion, exaggerating the negative qualities until we no longer recognise the true

Trekking the Path

reality of the situation or object.

Understanding the true nature of reality is a large

aspect of Buddhist philosophy, our minds flit from moment to moment constantly seeking gratification, we dwell in the past and wonder what the future holds, rarely taking time to observe the present properly. We see coiled ropes everywhere and think that they are snakes because we donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t stop to look carefully, but simply act on impulse.

These

impulsive actions add fuel to our roller coaster lives and perceptions, swinging us from bliss to desperation in the blink of an eye. All things change, moment by moment, a bad situation will pass, a good situation will pass, close friends become enemies and our enemies become close friends, loved ones become objects of hatred and yet those that threaten us can be our greatest protectors. To attain any level of stability we have to cultivate a sense of what comprises true reality, this can only be done through an understanding of the nature of all phenomena. This nature is inter-dependence; nothing can exist without being dependent upon other factors, causes and conditions. This is the law of causality and is consistent throughout the universe. A table is not a table without being fully dependent upon its component parts, legs, top, sides, etc. A person is not a person without depending upon millions of parts right down to the very atoms that we are made of, it is a fact that the individual atoms in our body change completely in less than ninety days, in other words we are not even the same person that existed three months ago. Everything changes, we are born, grow old and die, the changes may be slow or they may be fast but we still behave as though everything is self-existent, without a cause and never changing. Intellectually we may understand that phenomena does change but our actions dictate otherwise. When things do not meet our expectation we get upset, frustrated and angry as if the very thing that let us down should have been fixed, concrete, solid and unchanging. The close friend that betrayed us should never have changed, the young lover we once craved should never have become old, the new

Trekking the Path

car we so desired should never have broken down or fell apart. Everything changes, all phenomena is impermanent, when we see this for what it is, when we truly understand dependent arising only then can we start to feel a sense of stability, peace and harmony. The coiled rope is simply a coiled rope, my own fears of rampaging yaks and devouring bears were just delusions based upon a lack of understanding reality. Of course it would be stupid to walk up to a wild yak and try to stroke it, or hand a bear a cookie, there is such a thing as, conventional reality. A table may be made up of its component factors, but if you smack it over your head it will hurt. Ultimate reality must not be confused with ultimate stupidity! Simply understanding that all things depend upon factors and causes and that as those factors and causes change, so do all things, this understanding eventually reduces grasping and craving, ignorance is replaced by wisdom as you walk the path. As Natasha and I sat outside our tent, the majestic granite mountains loomed in the dark, the stars twinkled brightly, a few clouds had gathered in the night sky and the air smelled of rain. I crawled into the tent with Natasha, we talked for a while, tucked into our warm sleeping bags and eventually drifted to sleep, serenaded by the sounds of a million Cicadaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s chirping and buzzing to each other in their own hypnotic language.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 6 Lidder-What? On the morning of 27th August we started out early at about 6 a.m., again it was a beautiful day and clear blue skies provided a stark background canvas to the majestic 300 metre cliffs and surrounding mountains of Aru. The aroma coming from the cookâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s tent was alluring as we dressed awkwardly inside the small tent. It was a simple two person tent and although quite comfortable, I complained about the hard ground, Natasha was unsympathetic to my complaining and was focused entirely on breakfast. Breakfast comprised, eggs, toasted Chapatti with honey and hot Chai, I admit the choice of food on this trek was wonderful and exceeded all my expectations, I honestly thought that Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d be relegated to rice, rice and more rice, but every day saw the culinary skills of our guides growing more and more diverse. After breakfast we packed our tent, or rather Natasha did most of the packing whilst I made a feeble attempt at helping. Once the ponies were loaded up, our fit and enthusiastic guides led the way out of camp and immediately headed uphill.

I groaned inwardly, and possibly outwardly, as my calf

muscles gave an involuntary twitch of protest, my mood slightly antagonistic at the thought of another days hard walking. Natasha and Ramzan were already a good 200 metres ahead as I dragged my tired body uphill at a snails pace, Razak held back and walked slightly ahead of me, silently encouraging me to move my butt into gear. The scenery was stunning and served to lift my mood, the narrow trail cut into the side of a grassy slope, below the dense forest spread out like a huge sea of green and the silver river below wound its relentless way thought the valley. The day was so clear one could see the trail several kilometres ahead winding its way over the hills in the distance. After about an hour we came across a small campsite of a Kashmiri family and were invited to sit for Chai. The small brightly dressed children sat in a small group eyeing us all with

Trekking the Path

interest as we took their pictures.

The head of the family, an elderly Kashmiri

gentleman, sported a wonderful Santa Clause like full white beard and had piercing eyes that looked right through you. We drank our tea and once again continued our walk. Once again I found myself lagging behind, what was it with these guys, whatever it was they were taking, I wanted some! It seemed I was always trying to catch up; surely I was not that slow? But virtually every day without fail after less than half an hour of walking, I saw Natasha and Ramzan as tiny specks in the distance. It was disheartening for me as I knew I was unfit, but this was a constant and painful reminder as to just how unfit I actually was, whilst I puffed, panted, swore and cursed my way forward, my fellow trekkers seemed un-phased as they almost jogged ahead. If it were not for the frequent resting stops, possibly at my insistence, I think I would have never caught up. However, one thing I did posses, was a strong resolve and at least the thought never occurred to me that I would not make this journey, despite the pain and suffering that I experienced. Many a time I found my mood lifted by Razakâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s patience and his ever present smile and even the fact that I lagged behind on most days, never caused him any apparent concern, he simply adjusted his pace to mine without a glimmer of frustration. After another hour or two we started to descend towards the valley floor and the great cascading river and I knew that, very soon, we would be approaching our next destination called Lidderwat. The word 'Lidder' is a corruption of Lambo-Dari, which means a long-bellied goddess. The main river here receives a number of tributaries from both banks of the valley. The first surge of water rises from Shisheram Nag and carves a deep gorge round the Pisu Hill and flows past Tsandanwari on towards Pahalgam. At Tsandanwari another tributary rises from Astan Marg where a stream of pure spring-water joins the main river. Near Pahalgam a fast flowing torrent rises from the head of the Kolahoi Glacier again receiving another tributary from the Sona-Sar Lake

Trekking the Path

near the Kolahoi valley, the water from the Tar-Sar Lake joins it on the right at Lidderwat. This huge mass of water, swollen by its tributaries, starts high in the mountains and forms a raging river that crashes over boulders and hurtles down steep drops to form wonderful cascading waterfalls.

Lidderwat, means Lambodarwat (Lambodar's stone)

where in days past, the god Ganesh was worshipped, and it is also here that the tributary from the sacred lake of Tar Sar joins the Lambodari. I arrived at our campsite, tired and ready to collapse, even Natasha looked a little tired too. It had been an exhilarating yet exhausting walk through some of the most amazing scenery I had ever encountered. The camp site was amazing, a wonderful soft grassy patch next to the raging river. The view from the campsite was incredible; two steep mountains forged a deep valley and at its convergence stood a massive granite peak capped by a snow. Surrounding us stood huge pine trees swaying in the breeze as if to protect our small campsite. The pony-men collected wood and started to build our first camp-fire next to the river. I bathed in the fast flowing river cautiously, it was hard to keep my footing in the freezing cold torrent, but after a day of sweating my tired and aching muscles were massaged by the numbing water. As the sun lowered itself behind the huge granite spires, our pony-men could be seen dragging huge fallen logs towards an already growing bonfire. It was an exciting time as evening approached and the air grew cool. As the last remnants of sunlight were drowned by the darkening sky; the bonfire was lit and soon roared and crackled warming us all as we sat staring at the flames. Showers of golden sparks, like millions of tiny fireflies burst from the fire into the night sky.

Dinner was served and we ate

voraciously whilst sitting next to the fire. As we ate our perfectly cooked meal, Ramzan sat by the fire and informed us that the next day, we would be undertaking hard days walk of ten hours duration to Kolahoi Glacier almost 13 kilometres distant from

Trekking the Path

Lidderwat. The glacier was at an altitude of 4000 metres and, as Ramzan put it ‘a steep climb’. My stomach did a knotted leap at the thought of a 13 kilometre uphill hike over boulder fields and rough terrain, not to mention the 13 kilometre hike back again to camp. Yet I could not deny that I was excited at the prospect of climbing up a glacier. We would leave the camp early in the morning; at least we didn’t have to pack up tents, etc. so that was some consolation. Lidderwat was a truly magical place, the mountains, forest, raging river and crackling log fire seemed to ease my poor aching body as it slowly drooped from exhaustion.

The crowing glory to that magical evening was

however, not in the glorious surround of natural beauty, nor the brilliant canopy of stars above the campsite, but in the form of a cup of hot Cadbury’s Drinking Chocolate. I crawled into the tent and snuggled inside my cosy sleeping bag and, thinking of boulder fields, glaciers and achy feet, I eventually slept the sleep of the dead.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 7 Kolahoi Glacier Honestly speaking, I was not looking forward to this day at all, every muscle in my body ached, my distinct lack of fitness was taking its toll and even though I knew that my muscle fibres were rebuilding themselves to make them stronger, it didn’t seem that way at the time.

I took some Ibuprofen to ease the pain and following a grumpy

breakfast, or should I say that it was I who was grumpy not the breakfast, donned walking gear, boots and stick in preparation for this marathon ten hour jaunt. We set off out of camp and at first the incline was not too great and my mood lightened somewhat. The trail meandered over green pastures and forest covered hills, tall granite spires pierced the azure sky and very soon the soft grassy pathway gave way to stones and boulders. After about an hour and a half, we encountered a river, it was flowing reasonably fast but was quite shallow as we stepped carefully over the slippery boulders. I noticed that whilst I was slowly balancing from rock to rock in an attempt to stop myself from getting a soaking, Ramzan had taken off his walking shoes and just waded across in bare feet, I felt like a wimp! The trail continued the other side of the river and wound its way through the valley between two mountains, there were several shacks made of stone with grass roofs which were shepherd huts that served as shelters along the trail. At present they were empty and we seemed to be the only inhabitants of this deep valley. As we walked on my feet started to ache, I did not know it at the time but I have since found out that I suffer from a painful disability called, ‘Morton’s Neuroma’. This unpleasant defect causes small nerves to get trapped between the toes as the ball of the foot presses against the ground; this causes numbness in the toes, followed by excruciating pain. It is fairly easily resolved by wearing a small orthotic inside the shoe, the orthotic is fitted with a gel pad that keeps the toes slightly separated

Trekking the Path

when walking thereby stopping the nerves getting trapped. Knowing this fact before I started the trek would have saved me considerable pain and bad temper, guess it was just my Karma to go through the pain and suffering. Karma is often misunderstood by Westerners, probably as a result of the so called New Age stuff that is in abundance. Ask anyone what Karma represents and you will hear a wide range of views, possibly the majority of which are incorrect. Many think itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s some sort of cosmic pay back system, or some think it is retribution by a vengeful God for a life spent doing wicked deeds. Actually Karma is a simple premise with an incredibly complex mechanism. All phenomena, as we have discussed earlier, is interdependent and only arises upon dependence of various causative factors. A chair, for example, is dependent upon the tree for its wood, a carpenter to make the component parts, steel for nails and screws, various chemicals for varnish or paint. If you go even deeper, then the chair is also dependent upon molecules, atoms, subatomic particles and, according to quantum physics, even smaller particles, which physicists maintain can not even be located at any given moment. So one could say the chair at an ultimate level is simply energy. Karma is therefore cause and effect in play. When you perform an action, whatever that action may be, it was preceded by a previous moment of awareness, some thought provoked that action, it may have been instinctive and happened in a fraction of a micro-second, yet still it was preceded by a momentary thought. The action leaves an imprint upon the consciousness, it is said that you store every single thing that manifests to the consciousness, it may go unnoticed, but it is stored in the unconscious mind only to manifest when the correct causes and conditions are present again. For example, it may be your particular habit to become angry or impatient when you are standing in a line for something, maybe a super-market checkout, (which is my particular intolerance). This habit may have started when you had to

Trekking the Path

queue up for school dinner, or had to wait in line for a bus. As time progressed this particular habit, or imprint, became more dominant and every time you now have to stand in a line you start to feel impatient, wondering what is taking so long, why is that woman talking so much to the man on the check out till, doesn’t she have anything better to do than chatter when there are so many people in the line. Why can’t this store ever put enough people on the check-out tills? And so on until your anger increases, causing you frustration and discomfort.

Your body also reacts by increasing blood

pressure the pulse and heart-rate accelerate and sweating ensues accompanied perhaps by a nervous twitch or tick. In all a very unpleasant feeling occurs. This is as a result of immediate Karma, your habit of impatience whilst standing in a line causes you to suffer. Yet there is a far more complex mechanism at work here. It could be that in some previous existence you yourself were the very cause of your own impatience. It may have been that you were also a check-out person who took delight in making people wait in line, purposely causing others to suffer, this action also caused imprints, which when the situation dictates through causes and conditions manifests in your own suffering. The workings of Karma are complex indeed, and if one believes in previous lives, the imprints can go back many, many lifetimes. The act of killing has very strong imprints and may even be the cause of your own death. Miss-using your body through drugs, alcohol, sexual misconduct, lying or stealing again cause strong imprints that may manifest at any time perhaps in this life or in future lives depending upon causes and conditions. This is not divine retribution or pay-back, this is simply the result of your own actions. You can not take on the Karma of someone else’s actions and no-one can change your own Karma, it’s all your own doing, in fact, you and only you are the sole cause of everything that happens to you. How many times do you hear the expression, ‘why did this happen to me’, well now you know, it’s the result of your own actions,

Trekking the Path

perhaps in this life or maybe from previous lives. This is why actions are extremely important, only positive results can come from positive actions and negative results from negative actions. Sometimes you may even see bad things happening to nice people, or even good things happening to bad people and you may think, ‘that person is so mean and horrible, yet they are rich and everything seems to work out for them, or, ‘that person seems so nice yet they always have bad luck’. Karma is accumulative and it is impossible to know how things manifest as a result of Karmic action, therefore the best course of action is to try to do things with a good motivation, don’t be too hasty to judge or find fault or retaliate. For me personally, my sore feet may have been the result of some bodily abuse in the past and it was just necessary to go through it, yet everything passes, things change. I found a good podiatrist who diagnosed the problem and fixed it with a small orthotic I wear in my shoes. The painful situation passed, that particular Karmic seed had worn itself out. In any bad situation it’s always worth keeping in mind that it will pass eventually and not to get too frustrated and angry, which only serves to create yet more negative imprints. In some ways one can think that a bad situation is simply negative Karma working itself out, face it with a smile, or at least try not to react with anger. On the other hand, when things are going well, that too is the result of Karma and will eventually also change, so don’t get unnecessarily attached to pleasant things and try to remain balanced. This does not mean that pain won’t hurt or that you can’t enjoy something, it just means that it is all inter-dependent and subject to change, therefore of course enjoy things when they are pleasant but understand that they are the result of Karma, and when things are painful and unpleasant, they too will eventually change so don’t get too frustrated. During the trek especially I found that if my mood was low then my energy level also became low, my tolerance for discomfort was decreased and this resulted in even

Trekking the Path

more pain and suffering, as I explained earlier, oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s frame of mind will have physiological effects, so changing your mind-set will have profound effects on the physical form. Even with muscle pain and sore feet, provided my mood was kept high, then even these things became tolerable. The walk towards Kalahoi Glacier was hard in the extreme but the magnificent scenery and wonderful weather brightened my spirits and very soon the pain and suffering became less apparent. After another couple of hours we came to another river crossing, this one deeper and faster flowing than the last, I was about to find a boulder path across when to my surprise, and some embarrassment, Ramzan stepped in front of my and lifted me onto his back, piggy-back style, and carried me across the torrent. I was relieved yet felt even more like a Western wimp. Natasha made it across without any help at all, however on the way back we both were carried across by horse.

Again I found myself lagging

behind as we trudged, clambered and climbed over boulders and rocks the size of small houses, the path eventually passed a beautiful waterfall cascading in a white plume about 100 metres from a cliff and plunging into the already swirling river. The scenery was changing and becoming more rugged, I also noticed the air becoming thinner, we were now at an altitude of about 15,000 ft and ahead of us the massive Kolahoi Glacier stood tall and dominating. As we approached the air became much colder and in many places the river was covered in ice and snow. We started to climb higher still and very soon were climbing over tall rocks to reach the glacier itself. Eventually we were there, standing on solid ice many metres deep, the Kolahoi Pass above us about another 1000 metres up. The source of the river itself gushing out from under an ice bridge as the glacier melted. The mountain itself was covered in huge ripples like it had been sculpted by some giant artist, the many thousands of years glacial activity had carved its history in the granite mass. I felt awed and privileged to see this glacier, perhaps one of the last

Trekking the Path

great Himalayan glaciers to exist and I could not help but wonder how much longer it would be here, perhaps like many of the Himalayan glaciers, it too would eventually disappear. If ever there was an argument supporting global warming, here it was staring us in the face. Ramzan told me later that every year he came to this place he saw how the great glacier had receded further and further. After a lunch of Chapatti, boiled eggs, biscuits and fruit, we left this amazing glacier and headed back to Lidderwat. Arriving at the river crossing we encountered another few tourists, their guide kindly allowed us to use his horse to ferry us across the river; at least it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t as embarrassing as being piggy-backed across.

We arrived back at camp exhausted,

exhilarated, the walk to Kolahoi and back had taken ten hours through some of the most spectacular countryside I have ever experienced. Hot Chai awaited, followed by a quick wash in the icy river and then, huddled around another huge camp-fire, we recounted our adventure to Kolahoi Glacier before a well deserved sleep.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 8 Seikwas The morning of the 29th was, as usual, glorious sunshine; I was sad to leave Lidderwat as it was such a tranquil and beautiful place but I was assured it was to be a short walk of three hours to the next location called Seikwas at an altitude of 3500 Metres.

I was happy that it was a short walk after the previous dayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s marathon to

Kolahoi, in fact, I could easily have rested here at Lidderwat for a full day but it was not to be, we had a tight itinerary and at this stage we could not afford to take any days off. The terrain on the way to Seikwas was very different to what I had experienced previously; this trail comprised a narrow path following the river, normally the river was turbulent and not particularly clear, but this section, although fast flowing, was crystal clear. The path took us high into the mountain and afforded magnificent views, as the path ascended, we came across a magnificent water-fall cascading down the mountain, it was so clear we actually took a drink from it, a very unusual occurrence indeed, but luckily there appeared not to be any sheep, goats or cows doing their ablutions into the river up ahead so we were relatively safe. I recalled an event earlier during my first encounter with India. I was travelling in the Northern part of India and had arrived in Calcutta. In those days it seemed to me that Calcutta was a seething mass of people, the city was crowded, polluted and dirty. I recall vividly walking through the city and stopping for a glass of Chai at one of the many street stands. The Chai was hot and tasted good and upon finishing the glass, I walked away, but for some reason turned around to look back. The Chai vendor was washing the glasses in the gutter, I guess I knew then I was going to be quite sick. Sure enough it started on the bus as I was heading to Nepal, first stomach contractions followed by nausea. By the time I arrived in Kathmandu, two days later, I had a raging fever and

Trekking the Path

was vomiting copiously. I managed another bus journey to Pokhara and by this time was in the full throes of Dysentery. Finding a small room lakeside, I vaguely remember lying down on the bed. I awoke three days later, the bed was covered in rat droppings and I felt like death, but the fever had passed. It was a stark warning to always be careful concerning food and drink purchased on the streets of India. I must add however that I have since drunk many a wonderful Chai, as well as eaten food from street vendors to no ill effect. I guess it was yet another round of negative Karma that was required to manifest. We finally arrived at a quiet green pasture nested between two hills; an idyllic place for a camp site, the river was close by with several gentle waterfalls for bathing, as we erected the tents, dark clouds gathered in the sky above threatening rain. It was a short walking day indeed and it was good to bathe in the river and relax for the afternoon. The next day would be another fairly arduous trek to a high altitude lake called Tar-Sar at an altitude of 3900 metres. I was determined to swim in the lake even though I was warned that it would be Glacier fed and cold as ice. The clouds that had gathered so ominously earlier that afternoon, eventually cleared without the threatened downpour, this enabled us to avail ourselves of a warming camp-fire whilst eating another sumptuous meal cooked by Razak. It had been a very pleasant day indeed with wonderful scenery and relatively short walk.

I came to realise that the quality of my moods were definitely in direct

proportion to two factors; distance and pain, and not necessarily in that order. The pain in my foot was increasing and after only 30 minutes of walking, regardless of the terrain, soon brought about tingling and numbness in my toes that was followed by a sharp stabbing pain that rarely subsided. I also noticed that there was a small split in my

Trekking the Path

walking boots, just between the rubber sole and the upper. This was concerning as we were in the middle of no-where, therefore repairs were not possible and I had no spare shoes. If the split increased I was going to be in trouble, I checked the other boot and there was also a similar defect towards the back of the sole, this was bad news indeed and I did not know how much longer they would survive such demanding treatment. I imagined hobbling barefoot over rocks and boulders. Time would tell, yet another thing to worry about, I needed to relax and stop imagining disasters that had not occurred, whatever would manifest would manifest and I would deal with it, at least that was the theory. Maybe I should pray to the boot God?

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 9 A Very Chilly Lake Tar-Sar

Suffering can manifest in so many different ways, even when you think you’re not suffering, you inevitably are! I least expected my walking boots to be the cause of suffering but Murphy’s Law always states that if something can go wrong, it will and most likely when you least want it to. Over the next few days the split would develop into a tear, which further developed into a major territorial dispute between the upper boot and the sole. According to the laws of Karma nothing that happens is coincidental and all that occurs from the simplest action to the most intense of circumstances is the result of Karma. I figure that I must have been a cobbler in my previous life who had possibly cheated my clients and produced shoddy bootmanship. There is a wonderful Buddhist book called ‘The Wheel of Sharp Weapons’ and this text cite all sorts of dire outcome as a result of specific Karmic deeds. It’s a scary read and really makes you think before you act, which of course most of us, and I include myself most strongly here, tend to do unwittingly at the best of times. Most action we carry out is as a result of our self cherishing mind and I know I cherish mine a great deal. When there were particularly bad days my mood was grumpy at best and downright peevish at worse. I blamed everyone but myself, the stupid rocks, the bloody mountains, my guides for walking too fast or too slow, too hot, too cold, too high. I even remember blaming poor Natasha for always walking ahead of me, my stupid cherishing mind thinking that she was doing it on purpose, actually I only found out later that for people with small lung capacity its just better to stick to a reasonably fast pace and stay with it because if they stop the lungs start to gasp for air and its actually more difficult for them to stop and start than it is to keep going. I wish I’d have known that before, because I stopped and started like a

Trekking the Path

formula one race on a wet day and was always gasping like a steam train. Had I not been so self cherishing, I would not have blamed anyone at all but my unfit self. And so it is with most things, we always put ourselves first, we love to get love back, we give in the hope to receive and we inevitably do all sorts of things with some ulterior motive in mind. How often do we just do something for someone with no thought of ourselves? The entire world is self cherishing and hence the problems we see today, starvation and poverty would not exist if it were not for our self cherishing, wars could not arise if it were not for self cherishing, mans inhumanity to man would never occur if it were not for self cherishing, putting our own needs before any one else is the cause of much suffering, perhaps less obviously most of the suffering is in fact to ourselves.

When we act

selfishly, even without spiteful or malicious intent, it generates the habit of being selfish, this habit, or Karmic imprint, is perpetuated so that it develops more strongly as time goes on and we then act in this way even when we do not wish to do so.

Most

marriages and partnerships break down as a result of a self cherishing mind. We think that we want things done the way we want them done and don’t like it when our friend or partner does it another way, even though it might be more efficient, or we want to be quiet when our partner wants to talk, or we want to talk when our partner wants to be quiet, we misinterpret actions on the basis of our self cherishing mind, so many problems we cause ourselves let alone others. Sometimes it is best to stop and see, check our mind and motivation first before we act.

Often we feel so wonderful when we do

something nice for someone else, without the thought of, ‘what’s in it for me’. There is a remarkable passage in Buddhist text, which says, ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all beings lived in equanimity without holding some close and others distant, please may I help others to live in equanimity’. This statement is such a wonderful sentiment yet, so hard to do. We wander through life always classifying people as friends, enemies, loved ones,

Trekking the Path

despised ones, or just completely indifferent to some people. Yet how often can a close friend say or do something and within seconds become an enemy sometimes even for life. The opposite can also happen and an enemy can do something that surprises us and they become our friend. I remember when in school that sometimes a fight would break out between two people who were enemies, yet after the fight they would walk away arm in arm like best buddies. During the second world war there was, I believe, one occasion when over a Christmas period the two enemies who had, moments before, been trying to kill each other, came out the trenches and played football and wished one another a happy Christmas, then went back to shooting each other. Our fixed belief system of how we see one another is sheer madness and based purely upon a deluded mind, we often find it easier to look for the weaknesses of others, or point out their bad aspects, rather than looking for what may be their good qualities.

When we see

someone we donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like, we line up all the horrible bits and completely ignore anything that might be nice about them. I did just the same thing when I was tired or just plain grumpy and saw all the negative aspects in both place and people, yet when I just stopped to think, or just after a short rest, I would see how wrong my observation had been and how wonderful the nature was and how helpful our guides and helpers were being. Even the ponies were being helpful by carrying our heavy loads, once your mind starts to open so does your heart and you can begin to see more than you could with a closed heart and closed mind. The walk to Tar-Sar Lake was spectacular and, for once, my mood was fairly high, the air was clear, the sky was blue and the scenery was stunning, huge craggy mountains with long rolling grassy slopes surrounded me on all sides. The sound of the river was a constant companion in the valley below and as the hours strolled by the terrain became a little more rocky and boulder strewn. Goat herds and sheep roamed

Trekking the Path

the small grassy knolls in search of food; eventually we passed over another rise and came upon lake Tar-Sar. A beautiful high altitude lake surrounded by mountains, it reminded me of a Scottish Loch, huge granite slopes merged into a mirror like lake that was crystal clear. I immediately stripped down to my underpants and ventured into the water, it was freezing cold. I was reminded of a time when I was less cautious, I was in Norway many years ago and it was a glorious summerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s afternoon in the Fjords. The midday sun beat down as I lay upon a large boulder overlooking a similar crystal clear lake. Without any thought I stripped down and dived into the water, the last sound I heard were people shrieking at me as I hit the water. It must have been freezing point, as my circulation ceased to circulate and my heart almost burst from my chest. I could hardly move but managed to swim to the shore as many hands grabbed me and pulled me out. People were laughing at my blue body and explained that no-one in the right mind would ever swim in the Fjord because even in summer the Fjord was only just above freezing point and people could die by diving in like I had just done. Luckily my previous Norwegian Fjord experience had taught me a lesson as I eased gradually into the freezing glacial lake. It was, shall we say, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;refreshingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;; at almost 4000m altitude the lake was fed by glacial streams. I stayed in the water long enough for a very quick photo shoot and then exited with chattering teeth. I lay on the banks of the lake in the warm high altitude sun and warmed my chilly body. We ate cheese and Chapatti before the journey back to camp. Perhaps for the first time I did not lag behind and there was a spring in my step for sure. I knew that I was getting fitter and actually enjoyed the walk back, which took only two hours. Upon arrival back at camp I again bathed in the river and ate home made pancakes with apples and raisins washed down with hot Chai. Natasha and I played Piggies, for the rest of the afternoon. A stupidly addictive game comprising two pink pigs that, when thrown like dice, will land in different

Trekking the Path

positions hence giving a different score depending upon which way up they land, the first to reach a score of 100 wins the game. As I said, this game is seriously addictive and very often when on the road; we hooked up with other fellow travellers and played this game for hours. The next day would take us over a precipitous pass and on towards our last destination of this Kashmir sector of the trek to Sonemarg. I shall always remember Lake Tar-Sar and the buoyant walk back, the evening camp fire and the star filled night, I fell asleep dreaming of giant pigs.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 10 Sonemoos and the Day of the Disintegrating Boot I awoke at about 6 a.m. on the morning of the 31st August with a strong sense of foreboding; I knew from the previous eveningâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s conversation with Ramzan our guide that it was going to be a hard day of uphill climbing towards Sonemoos. I now knew from experience that when Ramzan said that something was going to be easy, it was always, for me at least, difficult and when he said it was going to be a little bit of an uphill walk, I was mentally preparing to scale Everest without either oxygen, or as would soon to become apparent, without an intact pair of boots. We broke camp after breakfast and my mood worsened as we set off into the early morning mist.

My muscles complained, my head complained, I complained

muttering obscenities and sighing every few yards. Natasha told me off several times for being such a grumpy old bugger and this served to lower my already turbulent mood. We walked uphill along narrow pathways ascending ever higher as cotton wool clouds rolled across the sky. The mountains loomed amidst green pastures and rocky knolls and the river flowed its way through the valley roaring its insistence in some places and gently meandering over rocks and shale in others. As we climbed still higher the fluffy white clouds began to turn into rather ominous dark grey ones that added a dramatic touch to the grey granite surrounding us. Still grumbling, I lagged behind a little but not as much as I usually did, we scrambled over boulders and climbed outcrops for spectacular views across the valley. The precipitous drops alongside the pathways were a constant reminder of the tenuous nature of life, one slip and gravity would grab you in its unforgiving grip. As we reached a pass the clouds seemed to envelop us in their blackness, daytime turned into night and thunder rumbled an ominous warning of its impending downpour.

However, as quickly as the clouds had gathered, so they

Trekking the Path

departed as if responding to distant call. The sky brightened as we climbed another ridge and we descended gradually onto a green pasture dotted with small grass roofed huts that shepherds obviously used to shelter themselves against the sporadic rains. The tall pine trees become less sparse and formed a forest of green against the backdrop of tall granite spires. I had been walking, and complaining, for about four hours and I was exhausted, my foot hurt like someone had stuck a hot poker in between my toes and the sole of my right boot had actually parted company with the upper section, it was like walking on flip flops, my ankle also hurt and the left boot had also started to respond in sympathy with the right boot, the heel section had a long four inch split at the base and was threatening to do the same as the other one. I flopped onto the ground thoroughly depressed with my lot; I had no spare boots and no tape or repair material to make any sort of reparation.

My boots were destined to disintegrate

completely and I had another five hours to walk at least, most of which was uphill. I had no idea of the terror to come, which was probably as well. We established camp near the river and having washed and ate I felt a little better, apart from the sense of impending boot doom to come. I did not know what was causing so much pain in my feet, I could hardly walk more than 30 minutes before the pain started up, at first it was just my right foot but over the past 20 four hours the pain had also started in my left foot as well, the only compensation was that it seemed to even up the limp so instead a one sided hobble, I had now developed a duck like waddle. I was glad to get to bed that night and hoped that my mood would lighten the next day, which I am pleased to say did, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was difficult to be in a depressed mood when sheer terror takes over.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 11 Sonemarg and the Driver from Hell The following day was the first day of a new month and the last day of trekking in Kashmir. We left camp just after 6 a.m. It was a clear sky as we started up the trail towards the 4000 metre pass. More boulder fields and narrow pathways traversing the mountain side, the valley spread out below like a painting. My boots were now flapping madly and I was struggling to stop myself from falling. At one particularly precipitous part of the trail, I slipped and fell backwards jarring my toe against a small boulder; I swore an oath to the Boulder God who put it there. My right heel was now free of its boot captor and flapped freely in the breeze. Finally after about four hours of climbing almost vertically in places, we mounted the pass. The view literally took my breath away perhaps more in outright fear than awe. I can honestly say that I have never seen such a perilous drop in all my life. The river below was a mere glint and resembled a spiderâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s filament snaking its way through the valley. The trail ahead wound its hazardous way down the side of the mountain, zigzagging its way across shale inclines, over boulder fields and through pine trees. I looked at the trail and swore, I looked at my rapidly disintegrating boots and swore again, then I saw Natasha looking at my boot-flip-flops and seeing the look of horror on her face I promptly swore again.

We started our

descent into hell. The pathway was extremely dangerous even with good walking boots, but the forward pressure caused by the sleep decline, combined with the rough terrain quickly rendered the boots into the realm of utterly useless, it was really just a question of trying to keep something between my socks and rock rather than anything supportive. I fell, slid and slithered many times during that descent, finally we reached what I thought was the beginning of the valley floor, how wrong was I? No sooner than we had reached a flat area, we started to ascend again only this time it was walking over a lose shale

Trekking the Path

path that was akin to walking on ice. Arriving to another small ridge set amongst pine trees, I saw that on either side of the ridge was a huge chasm to the valley floor of at least 1000 metres, one false slip here and it was definitely a long free fall until you hit the river below. I also noticed that I was surrounded by 2 metre high Marijuana plants. It was another death defying two hours descent into the valley and I was again exhausted and in extreme pain by the time we reached what should have been our next and last camp-site. In fact the camp-site was awful and despite the exhaustion I voted to carry on until we hit Sonemarg road where we would be taking a taxi into the town of Kargil where hopefully a hot shower and possibly new boots awaited. We finally arrived to the road head and waited for our jeep to arrive to drive us to Kargil. The jeep finally arrived after an hours waiting and we loaded our gear on board. The first signs that our driverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brain was not entirely wired in the same way as normal peoples brains, transpired after about 20 minutes into the journey. Indian drivers in general do not seem to be aware of Newtonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s first law of motion and many more are not even aware that gravity exists. Our jeep plummeted along the dusty road; the driver appeared to have his own special rule about overtaking. This rule stated that you only overtake when there is a large truck or bus approaching you in the opposite direction. The driver also appeared to be fascinated by the rear wheel of his jeep and kept hanging out of his window to peer backwards as he barrelled headlong into some unsuspecting vehicle coming in the opposite direction. One only had to see the facial expressions of horror on the faces of the oncoming drivers to know that this guy surpassed all Kamikaze intentions that had ever been invented. We rocked, screeched and were catapulted from left to right as we started ascending the mountain road. The driving was scary enough along the flat terrain, but now new heights of terror were being achieved as, still hanging out of the window to examine whatever was wrong with his rear wheel, our

Trekking the Path

driver bounced and rocketed ever upwards into the clouds, ignoring all sense of danger. The road became very narrow in places, barely enough for two vehicles to pass each other, but did we care, did we hell, this guy was on a mission! At one point he sat behind a rather battered public bus with hand on horn, it only became apparent that he was actually attempting to overtake the guy when he jerked the wheel towards the gaping maw to our left. Natasha went white and her nails clawed into my hand as we started to overtake the bus, I could hardly believe that things could get much worse when he actually answered his ringing mobile at the same time. Then, just to make things ever so slightly worse, a large truck loomed at us from the blind corner ahead. How we managed to grip the road and miss both bus and truck was a mystery that I shall never fathom to this day. The unperturbed driver continued his discussion on his mobile as if this were perfectly normal behaviour. We asked him to slow down and for a few minutes he did seem to respond obligingly, however we were soon barrelling our way ever upward once again. The scenery was quite stunning at this altitude, vistaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s of beautiful mountainscapes and steep gorges littered the panorama as we hurtled along the uneven road, however the beauty of the surrounding landscape was marred by the demented driving of this lunatic who had obviously studied at the driving school for psychopaths. We arrived badly shaken, terrified and battered into the small town of Kargil where we found a small hotel, unloaded our jeep and sacked our driver. He was actually supposed to drive us from Kargil to Padum in Zanskar the next day, a twelve hour journey across equally unforgiving terrain, but due to the experiences of the past six hours, we unanimously decided to try our luck with someone with less of a death wish. I have never really been that concerned with death as such, more with its mode than the actual event. I guess this mainly comes from the fact that for many years as

Trekking the Path

part of my career in pathology, I assisted in performing many autopsies and the fear of all things dead did not really cause me much concern. In fact my first autopsy was actually a rather humorous affair, perhaps not for the victim, but I guess he didn’t care at that stage anyway. I recall that it was my job to stitch up the cadaver and whilst it was my first actual attempt I had been taught how to do it and seen it done many times before. The senior pathologist had been very thorough with this particular one however and had removed all the internal organs as well as the brain. I was left with a rather empty cadaver and had to stitch it back together so that it could be sent to the morticians. I began to stitch up the abdomen, but noticed that as there was nothing holding the abdomen together such as internal organs , etc. therefore it sort of sagged inwards a bit lending a rather Neanderthal look to the corpse. I decided to stuff some paper inside the chest to add some ‘lift’ so to speak.

After finishing the abdominal

stitching it looked distinctly better. I now moved to the skull. When the pathologist needs to remove the brain the cranial skin is removed and peeled forwards to reveal the bone of the skull. A circular saw is then used to cut the top of the skull away leaving the brain exposed. I had to put the skull back on top of the head and fold the skin back; this would then be stitched to allow everything to be back in place. Unfortunately I had made another rather poor mistake. Normally an incision is made across the top of the head to allow the skin to fold forwards to reveal the skull, I had made the mistake of cutting along the forehead just above the hair-line so that when I replaced the skull the skin had somehow drooped forwards so that when I had to stitch the skin back together again, the line of stitching was about half an inch below the hairline running across the forehead and to make things much worse, I even used a cross stitch. By the time I had finished it looked like Frankenstein’s beast. I rapidly put the cadaver onto a gurney and put it in the large refrigerated drawers in the morgue. I knew that the morticians would use their

Trekking the Path

artistic skills to render the corpse more life-like for any possible viewing so did not really concern me with the problem further. This was a serious mistake. The following day I was hauled up in front of the consultant pathologist. He marched me to the morgue and pulled out the drawer containing the body I had, in his own words ‘mutilated’ the previous day. I was confronted with a hideous scene, during the night all the paper material I had used to stuff the body had all but dissolved, the chest had collapsed, and the skull had shifted forwards lending a cave man like appearance to the corpse. Had it not been so horrific it would have been amusing and I shall never forget that day. Death is for many of us a very permanent event and everyone suffers from it; so many people fear it, many fables surround it and virtually all of the world’s religions use it as some form of threat. If you’re good, when you die, you will go to heaven, if you’re bad you go to hell. Mediums profit from it and fortune tellers predict it. For something that happens to everything that lives, death is still a subject to be avoided at all costs. Yet for Buddhists death is the one chance for liberation, actually something to be celebrated and even looked forward to.

High Lama’s practice the stages of death like a well

rehearsed play so that when the time comes they know what’s going to happen and simply play out the rehearsal. To me the logic of re-birth or transmigration far exceeds the logic of finality and as one looks around at everything from the universe to the microbe, all that can be seen are cycles of existence, trees grow and die, seeds give rise to new trees, cells divide grow and die, new life springs up from death itself, even the stars themselves emerge from the dust of the universe, grow, shine then evaporate in monumental explosions creating the very material from which new stars are born. Everything revolves and rotates in cycles of existence. Even scientists now question what was before the big bang that apparently started it all, according to Buddhist cosmology there was no beginning and there were many Big Bangs rather than just the

Trekking the Path

one. Even the philosopher and scientist, Avogadro maintained that matter could neither be created nor destroyed and this theory has never been refuted to this day. Our very own bodies are made from the material of our parents, which were made from the material of their parents and so on ad infinitum, our atoms and molecules are replaced daily, one day an atom could be part of our brain, another day part of something else entirely. If our body is created as a result of previous causative agents, such as matter and mass, then we have to establish that our consciousness, which is neither matter nor mass, must have its own causation. According to Buddhist logic, the previous moment of consciousness is the causative agent for the next moment of consciousness and so on, therefore at the time of death, as the atoms and molecules from our dying body move on to be a part of other things, so then our last moments of consciousness also move on, to another life. Our consciousness when we are alive and aware is what is called â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;grossâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; consciousness and depend upon the five consciousness factors or our senses, e.g. eye consciousness, ear consciousness, nose consciousness, touch consciousness and taste consciousness.

Yet beyond these are other levels of

consciousness, which are infinitely more subtle and as our body starts to shut down at the time of death so each consciousness dissolves eventually leaving us with the most subtle of consciousness. It is this very subtle level of consciousness that holds the imprints of our actions and so, at the time of death itself, all we are left with is this subtle consciousness containing the imprints of all our previous actions, the strongest of which, propel us to our next rebirth. Most of us have little awareness of this process and are thrown around like a leaf in a gale until our consciousness settles upon a new rebirth that is compatible with our continuum.

For those highly realised people who have

practiced the death process, they can control and identify the different stages of the death process and at the moment of this very subtle consciousness, called â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;clear light

Trekking the Path

consciousness’ they can control their re-birth as they wish. For us ordinary folk, the best we can do is to ensure that are minds at the time of death are calm, tranquil and peaceful with no thoughts of guilt, hatred, loss or envy.

That is why in Buddhist

philosophy it is important to maintain a moral life as this lessens the impact of harmful actions and thus harmful imprints on the subtle consciousness. The less the harmful imprints due to immoral or harmful actions the more likely it is that the transmigration will be a pleasant experience leading to a pleasant rebirth. To my own mind at least this seems very logical, we all know how you feel when you have done something horrible to someone, how it disturbs the mind and you feel unsettled and unpleasant, the entire body reacts with increased heart rate, higher blood pressure, etc, yet when you have done something kind, generous or loving, you immediately feel at peace, relaxed and content. So it seems very logical to try to lead a life where you try to do your best not to get angry, try to generate a good motivation in all things you do, and try to see things from other people’s perspective and act in a caring and compassionate way, this way your mind certainly is more peaceful and relaxed. Of course it doesn’t always work that way and when I fell on my backside halfway up the Himalaya’s because my boots were disintegrating, it was difficult to generate a great deal of compassion towards anything, except perhaps a good boot shop!!

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 12 Kargil to Padum with New Boots Kargil is a small town in the district of Ladakh and very close to the Pakistan border, which becomes apparent by the huge military presence in the area. In 1999 the so called, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Kargil Warâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, erupted here. The Kargil War took place between May 8, when Pakistani forces and Kashmiri militants were detected atop the Kargil ridges, and July 14 when both sides had essentially ceased their military operations. It is believed that the planning for the operation, by Pakistan, may have occurred about as early as the autumn of 1998. The spring and summer incursion of Pakistan-backed armed forces into territory on the Indian side of the line of control around Kargil in the state of Jammu and Kashmir and the Indian military campaign to repel the intrusion, left 524 Indian soldiers dead and 1,363 wounded, according to statistics. By 30 June 1999, Indian forces were prepared for a major high-altitude offensive against Pakistani posts along the border in the disputed Kashmir region. Over the previous six weeks, India had moved five infantry divisions, five independent brigades and 44 battalions of paramilitary troops to Kashmir. The total Indian troop strength in the region had reached 730,000. The build-up included the deployment of around 60 frontline aircraft.

The area now has a huge military

presence with large army and air force bases as far as the eye can see. The air is alive with military helicopters and screaming jets. Kargil itself is just a small Indian town with a handful of stores, some of which catered to the transient trekking population and it was not too long before I discovered several Tibetan owned, hiking gear stores. There was a reasonable selection of hiking

Trekking the Path

boots all made in China and whilst not in the North face or Miendle quality, they were better than the skating boots I had been wearing for the past two days. I eventually settled for a comfortable pair of boots that looked like they would go the distance. Later that evening I decided to donate my old boots to Ramzan who I knew would repair them and wear them or sell them for a small profit. The small but comfortable hotel offered small rooms with attached bathroom and bucket shower with warm water, it was sufficient to have a hot bucket shower and dry some of my clothes out. After the terror of the drive to Kargil courtesy of our psychotic driver it was good to be stationary for a while at least. That evening we wandered around town for a while although one could walk from one end of Kargil to the other in less than ten minutes. Following a simple Indian meal of rice and curry, we retired to bed ready for an early start at five oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;clock the following day. It was going to be a long twelve hour drive to Padum so a good nights rest was in order. The following morning we awoke early and our jeep was waiting ready loaded with the usual gear on board. We all clambered into the jeep and were soon leaving Kargil along the Kargil Leh road. Our driver was excellent and was always alert and careful unlike his Kamikaze predecessor. The road was dry and dusty and extremely uneven; it climbed the mountain and eventually traversed the first pass where we officially left the Kashmir valley and entering the area of Ladakh and Zanskar. The scenery changed dramatically, no longer the fertile green and lush landscapes of Kashmir, we had now entered the virtual desert landscape of Ladakh with its moonscape terrain, glaciers and impressive snow capped mountains. There was hardly a tree in sight, let alone green grass. This was in stark contrast to Kashmir and as the road descended over the first pass, the huge massif of Num-Kun glacier dominated the landscape. I had never seen a glacier before and as we approached Num-Kun the

Trekking the Path

sheer magnitude of the thing struck me with a sense of awe. The front of the glacier was almost black in colour due to the collection of rocks and shale it had collected on its relentless path down the mountain. The road continued past various rock formations as snow peaks glistened in the morning sun as we wound our way through the valley. We hardly saw another person; this was truly a remote kingdom. The landscape became even more barren as we entered the region of Zanskar valley; Zanskar is surrounded by mountains on all sides and literally cut off altogether for almost nine months of the year due to the heavy snowfall in winter. Rivers freeze over and temperatures plummet to sub-zero, even waterfalls freeze in this part of the world. The majority of high passes are over 5000 metres and travelling in Zanskar is done mainly on foot or by horse. In some areas the military have built roads but again many are inaccessible in the winter. The population is almost exclusively Buddhist and there are about nine main monasteries in Zanskar along with several smaller ones in the villages, some of the oldest of which date back to the ninth century. The road continued its way through the valley, mountain after mountain flashed by in a seemingly unending procession of snow capped spires. Sometimes we would drive through tiny villages with typical traditionally built Tibetan houses with flat roofs crowned with a thick layer of grass and twigs, which kept the house warm and dry in the harsh Zanskar winters. We eventually stopped for lunch at a small place with a police station and a small restaurant, or rather a tent that served hot food. Looking around all I could see were granite cliffs, grey escarpment and yet more mountains, it really did look like I was on the moon. Again we started our journey, a small monastery sat on top of a hill as if someone had just dropped it there, behind it a massive grey mountain loomed against a deep blue sky. As we continued the massive peaks of Num-Kun could be

Trekking the Path

seen in the distance, a huge beast of a mountain with twin spires reaching over 23,000 feet. The mountain scene literally looked like an oil painting, in fact looking at some of my photographs of Num-Kun it looks like an oil painting. The glacier wound its way down the mountain forming a river of ice, millions of tons of ice moving gradually and crushing everything in its path, huge boulders would be pummelled into shale; an immovable force of nature and one that most likely will become extinct in less than ten years time. The majority of the great Himalayan glaciers are disappearing and the ones that are left are receding faster than in any other part of the world, according to the International Commission for Snow and Ice and the School of Environmental Studies of India's Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi. If the present rate continues, the likelihood of them disappearing by 2035 is very high. More than 2 billion people, a third of the human population, rely on the rivers that are fed from the Himalayas. If the Himalayan glaciers disappear, it would have devastating impacts. It was both a privilege and a heart rending experience to see these glaciers first hand, I only hope that they stay around long enough. As we drove higher into the mountains lonely Stupaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and rows of fluttering prayer flags dotted the route, we crossed passes over 4000 metres high and saw wonderful gorges with silvery filaments that were rivers, gouging their way through the valley. Thankfully the driver was excellent and did not cause any undue stress for us passengers, even though at times it was best not to look down. The road in places became no more than a dirt track barely able to allow four wheels to remain on the ground at any one time, sometimes we passed the smallest of tracks with nothing but space and a river 4000 metres below on one side and a huge granite cliff wall on the other.

Trekking the Path

As we yet again descended towards the valley, there was the occasional hint of something green dotting the landscape as if to show some resistance to the vast escarpment of grey. Herds of Yak plodded majestically across the valley floor and tiny Tibetan or Ladakhi women could barely be seen under their huge payload of grass carried on bended backs.

After a twelve hour journey, we finally arrived onto a

metallised road that led to Padum. Arriving in Padum late afternoon I made the decision to wimp out of spending the night under canvas and opted for a nice Tibetan hotel with hot shower and a soft bed. Padum is at an altitude of 3600 metres and is the capital of Zanskar.

It is surrounded by majestic peaks towering over 6000 metres.

The air

definitely felt thinner here, perhaps more so than anywhere else even though I had walked to higher altitudes it seemed more noticeable in Padum. After a shower and a rather awful snack we went over to where Ramzan and Razak had pitched their tent in a small field next to our hotel, we ate a wonderful meal, cooked by our master chef Razak, as dusk fell and the darkness of evening descended. Emerging from the cookâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s tent I was completely stunned into silence as my eyes were drawn to the night sky above. An unbelievable sight lay above me, I have never to this day, ever seen anything quite like that Padum night sky. Trillions of stars, some so bright you could hardly look at them, filled the sky from horizon to horizon, a carpet of diamonds formed a canopy of light that was mesmerising, the sky was as clear as crystal, not a single cloud obstructed this magnificent sky. Natasha and I went back to our hotel and climbed to the roof and lay back on some wooden beds and just stared at the sky for hours on end. Shooting stars occasionally streaked across the firmament there were so many stars and as my eyes were getting used to the scene above me I could make out the Milky Way, a band of highly clustered stars stretching across the

Trekking the Path

heavens. It was an amazing sight to behold and one that is permanently etched in my mind. The next day was deemed a rest day and apart from a slow walk to a nearby Gompa, which comprised more of a pile of rocks than a monastery; we did very little other than play Piggies, eat and sleep. The following day we would start the second part of the trek in Zanskar and walk to Karshil. It would be interesting to see how the new boots would feel by giving them a hefty breaking in period.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 13 Karshil and the Ancient Flying Monk Following a restful day in Padhum and an equally relaxing evening watching the wonderful Padum night sky, once again it was time to start the second part of the trek, this time we would walk from Padum to a small village called Karsha, on the way we would stop to visit the ancient monastery built in the 11th century.

The trail out of

Padum wound through the valley floor alongside the river for several kilometres, we crossed a small iron bridge over the river where the trail became hot and dusty. In the immediate distance the whitewashed complex of Karsha monastery stood on a remote mountainside. Our guides Ramzan and Razak decided to walk on ahead whilst Natasha and I wanted to explore the ancient monastery.

As we trampled across a dry field

towards the monastery it became quickly apparent that it was much further away than it looked at first sight. After about 30 minutes of rather hot and sticky walking, we arrived at a small dusty trail that wound around and upwards towards the monastery. The trail became a stone road and was extremely steep, long awkward steps took us ever higher towards the main Gompa. It seemed to take hours of walking, I was gasping for breath at this altitude and was getting extremely tired, this was a hard climb and even Natasha could be heard panting ahead of me. But my mood was bright and a new found energy spurred me onward and upward. About halfway up a small door to a small whitewashed hut sprang open and this diminutive and rather ancient monk emerged into the sunlight. He spoke not a word of English but motioned us upward, as we followed his various gesticulations we noticed the spring in his step, in fact, correction, it was more hydraulic than spring. This guy must have been ninety if he was a day and had the energy of an Olympic 100 meter runner. He bounced, bobbed and weaved his way up the steep steps and was soon completely out of sight, we only found him again at the top about 20

Trekking the Path

minutes later. Maybe he had perfected the art of flying! We arrived at the main Gompa positively wheezing and gasping, yet this monk hardly increased his pulse rate and his mischievous grin said more than words could convey. We entered the small courtyard of Karsha Gompa; the doors to the Gompa were ornate and heavy looking, they were also locked with a huge iron padlock. Yellow flags and drapes hung from the old gnarled wooden beams and highly ornate painted lintels propped up this decidedly wonky structure. Either side of the ancient wooden doors were equally ancient pillars that were buckled with age. On the walls were highly ornate paintings of protector deities that must have been several hundred years old.

desperately wanted to get inside the old Gompa but it was firmly locked with no-one in sight to let us in. Eventually two young teenage monks came up to the courtyard and despite their lack of English we managed to indicate our intention to get inside. They disappeared and returned about 30 minutes later with a huge set of ancient keys and unbolted the old lock. We entered the Gompa, it was dark and dank inside and the floor was made from old planks of hardwood that were polished from centuries of use and there were gaps of at least an inch between the boards. I did not really wish to look between the gaps to see what was below.

This place was medieval and ancient

Thangkas lined the antiquated walls blackened by centuries of butter lamp smoke. Small text tables lined the floor as if awaiting for some Puja to begin and the huge heavy wooden alter had pictures of long passed Lamaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and of course, His Holiness Dalai Lama, took centre position surrounded by century old statues of Buddha, a thousand arm Chenrezig and other various deities.

Along the walls were cabinets housing

hundreds of old silk wrapped Buddhist texts. The young monks were more than pleased to show us around the small Gompa and busied themselves darting here and there pointing out various artefacts. Behind the main alter was another small room, which was

Trekking the Path

very dark and musty with age, this room had more old statues lined up along another alter along the back wall, butter lamps flickered in the darkness adding to the mystique of this place. Both Natasha and I decided to sit a while in the beautiful old Gompa to meditate. I imagined the millions of Mantras that must have been chanted hour after hour in this place; the old Lamaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s performing ancient Pujas and ceremonies. The full name of Karsha, the largest monastery of Zanskar, is Karsha Chamspaling. Phagspa Shesrab, the translator of Zanskar first founded this monastery. The monastery, as it stands today, was the result of the efforts of the Teacher, Dorje Shesrab. It was under him only that the monastery flourished and prospered. The monastery consists of a number of shrines and boasts of some of the most exquisite wall paintings, by the Lama Dzadpa Dorje. The collection of Karcha Gompa also includes the bone relics of Dorje Rinchen and serves as the residence of approximately a hundred monks. The Gu-stor Festival is celebrated at Karsha every year, on the 28th and 29th day of the sixth month of the Tibetan calendar and celebrates the victory of good over evil. The Gu-stor sacred dances or 'Chhams' are held to commemorate the birthday of Tsongkha-pa, the founder of the Geluk-pa monastic order. After our brief meditation in the ancient Gompa we left to climb some more steep stairs to the roof where the views over the valley were stunning. All around the towering mountains capped by ice and snow pierced the azure sky. The distant river gouged its way through the valley floor and we could make out our trail to the left of the monastery complex. We donated some money to the Monastery and bade farewell to our young guides and began the steep descent back to the trail. Upon reaching the road, our guides were long gone, my sense of direction being totally non-existent, and Natashaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not much better, we decided to follow the road, which was lined by old Stupaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. We walked for some time and our apprehension began to

Trekking the Path

increase as we both doubted our ability to navigate out of a cardboard box, let alone a remote trail in the middle of Zanskar. Up ahead I spotted a lone figure sitting on a low ridge and as we approached it was our friend and guide Razak who, anticipating our poor navigational ability, had waited for us patiently in the heat of the midday sun. With our apprehension dissolved and our spirits high, we walked with renewed vigour towards the next camp. Passing the tiny hamlet of Karsha we headed alongside the river and eventually stopped at a small village. Our camp was opposite a small school inhabited by a few noisy children, several goats and a few ragged dogs. The ground was stony and hard but the weather was bright and cool. We washed under a small water pump and were soon drinking hot Chai and eating Chapatti with honey. It had been a beautiful day and my mood was light and my spirits were high, my foot still hurt like crazy but for once it was not the focus of my attention. It was time for yet another game of Piggies, which I lost; Natasha showed me no mercy in this game. As I mentioned earlier, there were subsequently two reasons my feet were hurting so much. On the steep descent down the mountain on the last day in Kashmir I had stubbed my foot badly, which unknown to me at the time, had caused a fracture of my right small toe.

This compounded with my Mortonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Neuroma, was causing

excruciating pain. According to Buddhism, all diseases and illnesses are the result of mental defilements, which manifest as disease in some form or another. Initially this sounds fantastical and almost unbelievable, yet when explored at a deeper level it does actually make a lot of sense. It is well know that mental factors contribute to wellness. This term wellness is a new terminology that has holistic connotations but literally refers to the factors that cause you to be free from disease. In the West the medical profession, of which I am a member and so include me in this statement, use quantifiable scientific

Trekking the Path

basis to practice our art. We ascribe disease to a range of causes that seem immovable and concrete. A cold is caused by a virus, an infection caused by a bacteria, a fracture caused by trauma exceeding the bones dynamic strength, cancers caused by cells refusing to die, we can list an infinite range of causational effects that manifest as disease.

Indeed we even spend billions of pounds researching new causes and

designing complex and expensive drugs to treat such diseases.

Yet why is it that

everyone reacts differently to causative factors. For example if the Flu virus had the innate ability to cause the Flu, then everyone exposed to it would succumb to the Flu, but this is clearly not the case.

Why is it that some people when exposed to the

organism that causes Tuberculosis not everyone develop the disease? Why do some people respond well to cancer therapy and survive for years beyond the prognosis, yet others die within months. In fact, what we think of as supposedly causative agents is only a small factor of the composite reality. It is now well established that long term stress will compromise the immune system, our front line defence mechanism. If the immune system is weakened then this leaves the body susceptible to infection and disease. Stress is a mental function which can cause a physical manifestation. We know from our own experience that when we react stressfully to a situation we feel physical effects. There is a definitive link between mind and body that can not be ignored. Of course we canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fix a fracture just by thinking it will heal; it requires intervention, the broken bones need to be set and a plaster cast administered, maybe even a metal pin to help strengthen the healing process. It is undeniable that medical science can treat disease and possibly prevent it in many cases, but we must not ignore the function of mind as a major factor. When the Buddha described the 406 diseases (there are probably now many more since his time) he described also that their root cause were mental defilements and

Trekking the Path

that the disease itself was a manifestation of that defilement.

This can easily be

identified, when you see someone that is always angry for example, their entire physical manifestation shows anger, their posture, facial expression and demeanour.

This

mental state of anger and agitation will eventually have a physical effect at the most profound level causing susceptibility to disease. I remember my own brotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s situation to quote an extreme example. He was older than me by about five years and spent most of his life unemployed, more by choice than situation, he was lazy by nature and had developed a fierce temper. He was bigoted and self opinionated and was also quite racist, altogether a rather unpleasant character for most of the time, yet he could show moments of great kindness. But for the majority of the time, he was angry at life. When he was young he always had a great sense of humour, almost Pythonesque in nature and he could write extremely amusing stories and often played the fool, yet as he grew older he became jaded with life and his mood became angry. As he became angrier he put on a huge amount of weight and at one time was well over 130 Kg. When he reached middle age he was diagnosed with Type Two Diabetes, but he would rarely listen to advice and continued to eat and drink to excess continually putting on weight and increasing his blood pressure. I recall that during the wedding of his eldest son, he approached me and complained that he could not urinate properly and this had been going on for several months.

Asking why he had not been to see his doctor, he

responded that he hated doctors. I took some blood samples later that day and had some tests done, but I already knew the diagnosis. He was officially diagnosed shortly after with Prostate cancer. The disease had metastasised and had spread to his spine and legs and was quite advanced. He underwent radiotherapy and was in pain most of the time. Perhaps the worst aspect of this was the fact that he had given up hope and lay in bed all day and became even more miserable and depressed than he usually was.

Trekking the Path

I tried several times to help but to no avail, he did not want to listen to advice nor did he want to help himself. He eventually died a few months after diagnosis, actually not as a direct result of his Prostate cancer, which was being controlled by radiotherapy, but as a result of taking too many pain killers that created an ulcer in his stomach, which ultimately perforated and caused a massive haemorrhage.

He died in hospital

surrounded by members of his family. In direct contrast, my ex-wifeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s father was also diagnosed with Prostate cancer, yet his attitude was positive, bright and cheerful, he was always joking and always had a nice word to say. Once diagnosed, he adopted an attitude that was conducive to his own well-being and he still survives to this day leading a relatively normal healthy life free from disease. I myself was diagnosed in 1999 with Lymphoma. My working day was horrific and I often worked sixteen hours a day every day. At the time my wife and I were managing our own health screening medical practice in London. We were providing health screening to corporate clients and helping many employees to better understand their own health and hopefully prevent the onset of illness by adopting better habits of lifestyle.

Whilst I enjoyed seeing patients, there were some aspects of my work I

disliked, like doing the accounts and other boring administrative tasks, which seemed to be taking up most of my time. Having been diagnosed with Lymphoma, it was a shock to the system as I was a reasonably healthy individual and had not really noticed any symptoms other than a lower back pain. chemotherapy as well as antibody therapy.

The treatments were long and involved Over a four year period the disease

relapsed three times, not because it was particularly aggressive, but my lifestyle and subsequent moods, I was angry a great deal, were compromising my health. Once I changed my habits and became happier the disease went away and to this day has not

Trekking the Path

recurred. Attitude and state of mind play a large role in the curative process, but also a stable mind free from hatred, stress, greed and clinging create a healthy environment. The Buddha claimed that there are three states of mind, or mental defilements, these are; Hatred (anger), Attachment (greed) and Ignorance (incorrect view of the world and phenomena) and they are the root cause of all types of disease, both mental and physical. Simply put, when we are relaxed and happy, we feel good both mentally and physically, when we are stressed and full of hatred and anger, we feel horrible both mentally and physically. It is only through developing compassion for ourselves and others that our minds can be free from these three defilements and hence we can learn to reduce the frequency of the real causative agents of disease.

Certainly for me

through adopting a more relaxed attitude and increasing my sense of humour, the pain in my feet was far less intense and my energy levels increased dramatically. From this I could naturally make the assumption that rather than complaining and feeling sorry for myself, I could develop my mind and do something about the problem rather than complain. Shantideva, a Buddhist scholar of the 8th century, said â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;What was the point of being worried if you could do something about a problem, and equally, what was the point of being worried if you could not do anythingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. Therefore I decided to do something about my specific physical problem with my feet and when I was in the UK, I saw a very competent podiatrist who fixed the problem and have been pain free ever since.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 14 I Hate Walking!! This was to be a long day according to our understating guide Ramzan. The walk to the high altitude village of Hanumil would take about eight hours mostly climbing to Hanumil. The trail was particularly hard going, it was rugged and wild beyond belief, this was truly, ‘remote’, in the fullest sense of the word. The massive mountains loomed high in all directions and the landscape was devoid of any tangible life. The road was littered with large carved rocks or Mani Stones, as they are often called; they are carvings of Tibetan letters usually depicting a Mantra. As far as the eye could see, there were rolling granite hills with a snow capped mountainous backdrop. The river rumbled and always filled the air with its sound. Yet again my feet hurt like crazy but at least the new boots were, in themselves, quite comfortable and they looked like they would go the distance. Mile after mile rolled by as we climbed and descended, we did this a great deal and there was always lots of climbing and descending, my mind attached to the monotony of walking. At first I tried to ignore the pain in my feet, then I focusing on it and as another climb would manifest I started to mutter obscenities at no-one in particular. The mind latches on to all manner of things and mine was having a real go at trekking in general. The internal conversation went something like this; ‘Oh look another mountain, wow! And look over there, another bloody mountain, and no, it can’t be, a hill?? Nope, it’s a mountain alright. But wait, do I see a tree over there, I mean God forbid that there’s actually anything more sentient than a cockroach in this entire valley! Why do my bloody feet hurt so much? Jeez why am I doing this, what hair brained maniac would ever, I mean ever, consider walking up the sodding Himalayas, I must have had a psychotic episode to have been convinced to do this, all I

Trekking the Path

want is a bed and a hot shower. I want my feet amputated and metal boots in their place, give me pain killers, a tree, a bush, arghhh’. Something along those lines anyway, I really was putting one on, so to speak, no wonder poor Natasha walked so far ahead I must have irradiated a square kilometre around me with blackness. Yet as soon as I saw the pale blue roof of the cooks tent in the distance my mood altered drastically, camp! Food and most of all, horizontalness. It had been a long day of hard walking, I calculated almost 20 kilometres, but here we were at camp, Chai awaited, our tent was already erected and an ever cheerful Ramzan greeted me with; ‘Tomorrow we go up to Hanumil Pass then we camp at Snertse, then the next day we climb to Purfi La, (3900 metres) only about seven hours’, My little heart sank and my feet gave an extra throb of sympathy. At that point I hated walking and sank to a mild depression for the rest of the evening.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 15 I Love Walking - Hanumil to Purfi La For some inexplicable reason when I awoke, I felt a strange energy that had previously not been present, maybe just my imagination, but I felt quite alive and ready to walk despite the previous day’s exhaustion. Breakfast tasted even better and I was ready to rock n’ roll. We packed up the kit and left camp. I was determined not to lag behind and so kept up a good pace.

The trail followed the river, which entered a

spectacular gorge with seemingly endless walls on either side. The river was wide and raging and our path extremely narrow as it cut into the side of the gorge. After about an hour the trail started to ascend and wind its way up the mountain side, just as I thought it could not get much higher, we turned a corner and ascended even higher still. What was once a wide raging river now seemed to be a tiny silver thread hardly visible at this great height. The path was so narrow and seemed to have been cut at an impossible angle into the rock. Looking down was an activity not to be repeated too often; it was best to look ahead as the sheer magnitude of the drop below was incredible, I am not usually phased by heights, and although I was not particularly scared, the view certainly sent my adrenaline into overdrive, poor Natasha was also looking decidedly wary. We stopped for a break at an outcrop of rock overlooking the entire gorge, it was simply an amazing view; the river cut a deep swathe through the mountains and all around the lunar like escarpment created an uncanny atmosphere. The silence was deafening, the air was still and all that could be heard was the feint sound of the river thousands of metres below as we continued to climb ever higher, huge gaping chasm’s appeared at every turn and I could see our ponies clambering up the narrow trail, how they were so sure footed I did not understand, but they simply plodded their way up after us.

Trekking the Path

Eventually, after many hours of climbing, we finally reached the last part of the trail just before the final climb to the pass at Purfi-La, this was even steeper and it was almost vertical in places as we climbed the last stretch. I could see a line of Tibetan prayer flags and an old Chorten marking the pass, it was like you could almost touch the clouds at this height, yet the pass was only 3850 metres and we would climb even higher to cross Hanuma-La and even higher still crossing Shinge-La at 5030 metres. The view across the valley was obscured slightly by Shinge-La but never the less it was still spectacular; the landscape was varying shades of grey and brown and the snow capped Himalayan range formed an incredible backdrop. Looking back at the distant trail, it seemed for me at least an incredible accomplishment and although my feet hurt, somehow I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t seem to care. We sat silently eating our lunch whilst staring at the incredible scene below. As we prepared for the descent, I saw the trail leading down to Snertse our next camp at 3745 metres.

It looked pretty daunting with

switchback trails zigzagging across the mountainside. Going downhill was always a little more dangerous than going up and it was also hell on the knee joints. In places we crossed moving shale, which was extremely unnerving and for every step forward the shale moved you sideways and the sheer drops were very scary in places, one slip and there was nowhere to go but down, it seemed a constant battle with gravity, but the views always distracted my line of vision and it was not long before we arrived at Camp Snertse. The camp was not particularly lush but quite rocky but we managed to set up our tent in a small clearing. Later in the day another group joined our camp-site. We were located on the side of a mountain that led down to a valley where a river meandered over boulders and rocks. The mountain on the other side was steep and formed a high ridge. At about 6 p.m. Natasha and I were taking a well deserved nap before evening

Trekking the Path

meal when there was a commotion outside. Ramzan rattled our tent shouting Tiger! Tiger! My adrenaline surged as I had not anticipated being eaten by a Tiger at this altitude and I rapidly exited the tent, boots in hand. Looking back I’m not sure what I intended to do with my boots, perhaps I wanted to offer the beast a nice meal of boot rather than me! Everyone including guides and other camp visitors were pointing across to the ridge on the other side of the valley. My adrenaline pitched down as I realized that the said animal was considerably far away and would not be eating me after all. I still could not see anything despite everyone’s excited yells and wild gesticulations and pointing. I grabbed my telephoto lens and tried to see what all the fuss was about, and there it was emerging from behind a boulder on the opposite side of the ridge. It was clearly no Tiger as it was patched with markings with a white background, it was a Snow Leopard, one of the rarest creatures in the Himalayas, and there it was just slowly ambling across the ridge. I was awe struck as it stopped and stared at us as if to say, ‘Who the hell are you staring at, ain’t you ever seen a Snow Leopard before?’ It stood for a while then sloped off behind another boulder and disappeared from sight. This was a spectacular moment and I wished I had a really high quality lens, but alas I didn’t, I tried taking some pictures but when I viewed them later on my computer there was nothing to be seen but out of focus shadows. I later heard that a BBC team had camped in this region for almost two years and never spotted this elusive cat, I was simply amazed that we had been so privileged to have been a witness to this amazing creature in its natural habitat. Later we sat around our camp-fire and chatted until it was time to sleep, it had been an awesome day and the rare sighting of the Snow-Leopard had been the pinnacle experience.

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 16 Purfi La to Hanuma-La With thoughts of our Snow Leopard having eaten our ponies for supper during the night, we were pleasantly surprised to see the ponies alive and well and ready for the hike up to Hanuma-La. The sky was a deep blue and the day was perfect for our ascent to the 4650 metre pass. Leaving camp feeling full of energy and with a light heart, I was determined to try to ignore the pain in my foot that had started almost as soon as I began walking. The trail started as a long and slow climb alongside the river. After about an hour we eventually arrived at an amazing gorge where we had to traverse a magnificent snow-bridge that crossed over a small stream. The snow-bridge looked precarious and it sort of sagged a bit in the middle, but our guides assured us it was safe to cross. Call me a sceptic, but I let the guides go across first. The bridge was not so high and I figured that even if it did collapse, I would not come to much harm other than a cold soaking.

It was only afterwards that I realised that the bridge must have weighed

several tons and had it indeed collapsed, it was unlikely I would have survived. My bridge Karma was obviously intact that day and I made my way across the bridge like a true mountaineer. After crossing safely over, we then began a very steep and strenuous climb up the mountain. This was perhaps the steepest ascent of the entire trek and in some places we had to actually climb up the rocks grappling for hand and foot holds. It was extremely steep but the ascent was quite rapid and no sooner had we left the bridge, than we were looking back at it from at least a 300 metres. We traversed a very narrow section of the mountain that connected two ridges and the drop below us was not for the feint of heart. We stopped at a small section of the ridge to watch as our ponies stepped very carefully up the opposite side. In places the ponies seemed to be at an

Trekking the Path

angle in excess of 50 degrees from horizontal. I also felt that the higher we climbed the more the air become noticeably thinner, luckily not once during the trek did I suffer from altitude sickness, not even a headache, but certainly up on this section it appeared more noticeable in terms of the wheezing quotient! After another couple of hours ascending ever higher, I could make out two Chortens and strings of Tibetan prayer flags that marked the summit of Hanuma-La. As we reached the ridge marking the top, the view was mind wrenchingly beautiful. As far as the eye could see the vast Himalayan peaks pierced the azure sky. The gathering clouds cast the most incredible shadows over the nearer peaks and the colours changed every second like one of those time-lapse movies. Views of the Shinge-la peak and the Zanskar gorge, which we were to traverse the next day, were stunning. We found a small shelter, which comprised a low stone wall on an outcrop of rock, and we ate our lunch whilst surveying the magnificent view. I wondered about the circumstances that had brought me to this very special place, a quick review of my life as it were from this rocky height. Had it not been for my interest in Buddhism and my desire to seek out a teacher and learn more, I probably may have not been sitting here at 4650 metres, almost 15,250 ft, staring goggle eyed at the panorama ahead. I was born in 1949 to working class parents, my dad was a decorator and my mum worked at different jobs, but I perhaps remember her most vividly as a travelling sales-woman, selling shopping catalogues, I guess it was the precursor to E-shopping. Sometimes I went out with her in our car. It was a pale blue Vauxhall Victor and was the first brand new car we had owned. I enjoyed going out with my mum and driving around. I also remember that she had an accident and completely trashed that beautiful car, luckily she was not severely injured and I recall that the insurance company replaced the car.

Trekking the Path

My parents were very strict born-again Christians and whilst I was grateful for the moral upbringing and the somewhat enforced understanding that stealing, killing, etc, was ungodly, I did miss out on some aspects of childhood. I was not really encouraged to have friends other than those at the chapel and I rarely went out other than to the shops. I never saw the inside of a cinema until I joined the RAF in 1968, and I had certainly never tasted alcohol until I was about 20 years old. My social life during my teenage years revolved around the small chapel and its younger congregation. The older people were always strict and miserable and we younger folk were mischievous and always questioning.

The chapel services were always dismal and on Sunday

evenings there was always a visiting minister who babbled on about hell fire and brimstone. The chapel had this old pedal organ that was played by one of the more senior members of the congregation, she had asthma and the more she pumped that old organ, the slower she played and the hymns took on an eerie, out-of-tune quality that would scare off anyone listening outside. The chairs were very hard and as the minister rambled on and on, I recall my bum becoming numb. I really used to dislike Sundays as I always had to go to the morning communion service where we were made to drink Ribena blackcurrant juice (we could not have wine as alcohol was a sin) and eat dry stale bread. Very often at these services someone would suddenly jump up and speak in utter gibberish. It was called â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;speaking in tonguesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; and was considered a mystical and holy event, but frankly I thought that that they were completely off their heads. Even from an early age I could not understand why the majority of the members of this small chapel were all so miserable, they behaved miserably, they dressed in black or some other drab and dreary clothing and everything they said was doom and gloom. I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t think that they enjoyed their religion.

I remember once going with a friend to a

Pentecostal church, the congregation were almost all Afro-Caribbean, but the place was

Trekking the Path

alive with sheer happiness, the choir sang uplifting songs and everyone clapped and sang along with such joy. When I told my mother that I had been to the Pentecostal church, she was quite critical of them saying that it was not really the way to practice our faith; to me this was yet another sign of the bigotry of what I saw as Christianity, at least as practiced by the people in my chapel. I later went to a Billy Graham meeting at Birmingham Town hall and I saw the same happy, smiling faces, singing and really enjoying themselves, but again I was told that this was not correct and that I should not go to such events. I guess the way to practice according to my particular church was to be miserable, wear awful clothes and criticise anything outside of our own community. I recall once that my friends and I formed a band and we played at a Christian band competition at Birmingham Town Hall. We were a ragged bunch of musicians, I played guitar and we had an accordionist, a drummer and another guy playing electric guitar. Despite our unprofessional equipment, some of which was ‘borrowed’ from our chapel, we actually won second place. I guess this was my introduction to music at a very early age. However our elation was soon well and truly grounded as the Elder’s (senior members of our church), found out that, not only had we borrowed their P.A equipment, but that we had used it for what they termed ‘ungodly’ activities. We were duly thrown out of church. This was in fact the second time I’d been ejected from the chapel. On one memorable occasion I had attended bible study class and asked the question; ‘If God created all living things then who created God’ The teacher was livid and threw me out of class. I guess from that day on I knew that God, at least as far as I was concerned, did not exist and when I was introduced to Buddhism I did not need much convincing as to the logic of its philosophy. Thus my experience of Christianity, at least within my own small community, was to taint my view

Trekking the Path

of religion for many years to come and in some respects I reacted with some hostility towards all religions until I met with Buddhism some 15 years later. I left school with no qualifications, as had my older brother, and even though I wanted to stay on at fifth form and complete my education, I recall with sadness a meeting between my mother and the headmaster where he told her that I was not very smart and that it would be a waste of time for me to stay on at school, he said that I may as well work in a factory and earn some money. I was heartbroken and angry at this idiot’s comments and from that day forward I was determined to show everyone how wrong they were. I was even angry at my mother for believing him. Over the next two years I went from job to job, my mother wanted me to be a hairdresser and for a short time I worked as an apprentice to Raymond, ‘Teezy-Weezy’ in a large city salon where everyone called me Mr Michael. It was a prestigious position because at that time in the early 60’s, Raymond was the equivalent of Daniel Galvin or Nicky Clark. I was bored stupid, constantly pandering to the rich and wealthy women and suffering the pride and arrogance of the senior stylists. Very soon I wanted to leave, but I was offered a position in the ‘Trichology’ clinic. Trichology was the science of hair and scalp and I was actually very good at the various treatments, pretending to be this great hair consultant. I was so good in fact, that I soon had a string of very famous ladies coming to my little clinic.

Alas I was still bored and realised that I needed

something more in life, so I saved as much money as possible and went back to college where I studied for my ‘O’ Levels and one ‘A’ level. My parents thought I was crazy to have given up such a great job but I was determined to have a better career for myself. I worked hard at college and one year later I left with some useful qualifications. I then found a job working as a junior laboratory technologist in a hospital laboratory. Working in the pathology laboratory was cool and very soon I wanted to study and learn

Trekking the Path

more about pathology, this was to be my chosen career.

I did not have sufficient

qualifications to gain entrance to medical school and neither could I afford to go to University and so I become disillusioned

However a co-worker, who had recently left

the RAF, advised me to go to the recruiting office and talk to them about a possible sponsorship where they would pay for my education provided I stayed with the RAF for a set number of years. To cut a long story short, I joined the Royal Air Force in 1968 and they paid for me to qualify in Laboratory medicine, I attended colleges in both Oxford and Cambridge and gave seven years service to the RAF. I travelled to many amazing places including a one year posting in the incredible Maldive Islands where I ran a small laboratory serving the local indigenous population of about 200,000. The experience gained there was incredible as I saw many different types of tropical diseases and even had to cope with a major Typhoid outbreak on the islands, I enjoyed military life very much. I enjoyed the camaraderie and the self discipline during those years. When I returned to the UK, I married an RAF nurse, but I was very young at that time and when my wife had a child a few years after we were married, the pressure was all rather too much and we split up.

We broke up shortly after he was born and she eventually

married someone else. Shortly afterwards I resigned from the RAF and went to work for a private hospital in Harley Street, London that was famous for its medical speciality and equally famous celebrity visitors. Shortly after a year working at this hospital, I was offered a position in Saudi Arabia where I worked for another eighteen months in a beautifully designed and equipped hospital in Riyadh. I met many friends there and saw many wonderful sights as I travelled across Arabia and also visited Jordan and Israel. During my time in Saudi Arabia I met my second wife, she got pregnant despite contraception and we had to return to the UK where we got married, more at her parents insistence than our own, but

Trekking the Path

again just after my second son was born she left me one weekend to go and live with a long standing boyfriend. Both boys I did not see again for almost 25 years. After my second wife left I sold our house and decided that I needed a break from medicine and so pursued a career in music for the next four years. I had always been a reasonably accomplished guitarist and so I played in bands and even wrote and produced my own album. I enjoyed playing and touring and frequently experimented with various drugs although I never injected anything and stayed well clear of hard drugs like heroin. However I did take LSD many times and whilst I could never condone such action now, I did found the experience fascinating. An old Lama friend of mine, who actually passed away in 1983, was asked if LSD could open awareness as found in intense meditation. He responded that the chemical could bring on certain aspects of awareness found in meditation, but that it would only be temporary and was probably not to be advised. My main claim to fame was that I once reached the final auditions to be lead guitarist for Ozzy Osbourne and although I failed to get the job, it was great fun trying. I thoroughly enjoyed the life of a musician and had some wonderful times as well as making many good friends. This part of my life story ends as it began with my first trip to India and subsequent meeting with his Holiness the Dalai Lama and Buddhism. Sitting high on that ridge it was amazing to think back over my life and all that I had done. It is easy to see how we crave change and how our minds constantly seek new and exciting things to do all the time. Yet the more we pursue these things, the more we become frustrated and dissatisfied with our lives and no amount of money or possessions can ever really give us what we desire, which ultimately is happiness, calm, peace and contentment in our lives. Money of course is essential to survive, we need clothing, food and shelter, but we also need to learn restraint, contentment, compassion

Trekking the Path

and understanding.

So many dreadful things happen on our planet, wars, hatred,

famine, fear, poverty, disease and violence. It sometimes seems that it is part of human nature itself, but this is not the case at all. The Buddha said that the actual nature of our mind is clarity but that it is clouded through delusion, hatred and craving. We all posses Buddha-nature and we all possess the ability to become more than we are, to reach the highest possible aspiration, which is enlightenment, free from all suffering. And once we have reached this goal and experienced the joy and peace that it brings, all we then aspire to is the wish to show others the way. Whilst it is hard to imagine a world full of compassion, kindness, harmony and everyone wishing to help each other, it seems so very easy to imagine one filled with hatred and violence.

We watch it continually on the T.V. in the form of movies or

computer games, or simply just watching the news. We even look forward to seeing violence in action movies. It has become part of our world and seems far more common than compassion and peace. The three basic delusions of anger, attachment or craving and ignorance pervade our existence, but this clarity of which the Buddha spoke can be revealed through the practice of meditation and by developing compassion for others. By pulling back the curtains of delusion and misunderstanding we can begin to experience some of that clarity. Meditation is simply a method of looking inwards instead of constantly looking outside for answers. Through calming the ‘jabbering monkey mind’ we can listen to our inner self, expand our mind and begin to understand reality as it is, rather than how we would like it to be. We can begin to see that there may be another perspective to life, perhaps even seeing another side to someone’s opinion instead of fighting or arguing with them. Perhaps even doing something kind for people less well off than we are and for once, with no thought of, ‘what’s in it for me’. To be content with the things we have

100

Trekking the Path

rather than constantly striving for something bigger or better. Throughout our entire life we are bombarded with advertisements telling us that we need more stuff, that we must throw out that old mobile phone (that actually works perfectly well), and get a new one that plays music, or has better graphics. Or wear new style of clothes or a bigger house or faster car. Everything tells us we need to strive for more of whatever. Wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t it be great to see just one advert telling us that we have enough stuff and to be content with what we have, and perhaps just go out and try to make someone happy? In my work I used to see a lot of patients in the corporate sector and try to help them manage stress and perhaps do more to improve their lifestyle through exercise or sensible eating habits.

So many people seemed to be unhappy with their lives,

frustrated or angry and dissatisfied with what they had. If only I had a better job, or, if only I had a better boss my life would be better, was iterated almost like a Mantra. Yet even if those things changed there would be other cravings and aversions to take their place. Yet so many people were open to the idea of meditation and some form of spiritual understanding and often it was the case that pursuit of such practices gave considerably more satisfaction than the usual practice of earning money or buying more stuff. Many of the people I saw had very low self esteem and could not see beyond their own negative self impression. I recall one time listening to one of the Mind Life conferences that His Holiness the Dalai Lama held with scientists and neurologists. When asked the question as to why Westerns often had low self esteem, His Holiness did not understand the question and for several minutes entered into a deep conversation with his translator. Finally he laughed and said that in his culture no-one had low self esteem, in fact, it was almost the very opposite and that people actually had too much self esteem. It seems that this is a Western phenomenon and we need to

101

Trekking the Path

spend more time looking inwards instead of outwards.

Self cherishing and putting

ourselves before others is perhaps the most destructive of all aspects of the human mind, when we put others before ourselves we open our hearts to many possibilities, and when others see that we are happy in giving, this spreads and others around us want the same. My own life is a testament to the destructive power of self-cherishing, four failed marriages, three children I hardly ever see and so many changes of jobs, houses, cars and relationships, all because of self-cherishing. Perhaps with time and much training this can change, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a slow process but sitting on top of a mountain in the most remote part of the planet certainly puts things into perspective. Now is the time to change, not at some distant moment in the future, the change may be gradual, step by step, but change will occur eventually and hopefully for the better. I was determined to make changes, there would be times when I would fall, slip and slide around but once the determination is established the path is always clear even if you fall off it now and again. For now however, my immediate path lay directly ahead and was heading down from the pass and it looked decidedly hairy as hell, zigzagging its way down towards the river in the distant valley. We started to walk down just as heavy black snow-laden clouds began to descend upon Hanuma-La directly behind us. The spot where we had sat now completed covered by cloud.

Down and down we walked until we finally

reached the valley floor, only to cross a river and start to climbing back up again. Over another ridge and through yet another steep gorge we walked until we finally arrived at our next camp just outside Ling-Shet on a remote hilltop. As our guides roamed the hillside to find fire-wood to build our campfire, I flopped to the ground exhausted, but on a mental high and with a great sense of achievement, the world was good and I was at peace with it.

102

Trekking the Path

103

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 17 My Very Own Madness Ling-Shet What is it about our minds that one minute you think all is well with your world and the next everything is crap? I had no idea why, but as I awoke the next morning I knew my mood was sour and there seemed no obvious or apparent reason for it. The previous dayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mood was bright and cheerful and I felt full of energy, but for some reason this day was doomed to the foibles of a dark mind. I guess it started when I could not get the tent into its bag. I cursed the tent manufacturers for making the tent bag so small, or the tent too big and the more I tried the more I became annoyed, eventually Natasha took over the task and within minutes had the tent neatly stowed, which simply served to annoy me even more. We set off for Ling-Shet, about 45 minutes away, the path was reasonably flat so not very tiring, yet my energy was zero, the pain in the ball of my foot was intense and I seemed to focus on the pain rather than trying to ignore it. As I continued to walk my mood lifted slightly as I tried to take in the wonderful scenery and ignore my foot. It is quite amazing that the connection between mind and body can be so strong at times, a low mood affects your energy, I even noticed that instead of walking properly and mindfully, I had adopted a sort of shuffle and often tripped over small rocks and stones. It even became a source of amusement as I tripped for the umpteenth time. Ahead I could make out a white-washed monastery perched high on the hillside and very soon the high altitude town of Ling-Shet (5100 metres) came into view. A small collection of Tibetan styled flat roofed houses and huts were scattered throughout the hillside all of which were in the shadow of the huge mountain that looked like a huge granite protector deity rising up from the bedrock. Ling-Shet was very picturesque and the Gompa above

104

Trekking the Path

the town simply added to the serenity of the place. I did not venture inside the Gompa for some unknown reason and we just walked slowly through the village stopping at a small shop that sold water and a few sweets. A rickety metal sign claiming that the store had STD swung gently on the porch. I had to smile because in my medical business, S.T.D. stood for Sexually Transmitted Disease and I grinned at the thought of the shop having gonorrhoea! Of course STD in this instance related to the telephone service being offered. This little bout of humour completely lifted my dark and oppressive mood and immediately my energy returned and the stabbing pain in my foot seemed to dissipate. The trail continued to ascend upward towards the first of many passes we would climb that day. As we arrived at the first pass of the day, the mountainous expanse ahead seemed to eat up the landscape, I could make out our trail heading across the mountainside and disappearing into infinity. As we continued to traverse the mountains my senses were again assaulted by the sight of an impressive deep gorge, two massive mountains formed a steep valley and ended into two dramatic cliff faces that just went on forever. The gaping abyss to my right was a dramatic distraction and I found myself reciting a Tara Mantra. At that moment, high in the mountains I did not wish to be anywhere else in the world and I could understand why some of those ancient Buddhist practitioners, like Milerepa, lived as hermits meditating high in caves for years at a time. The story of Milerepa is a classic in Tibetan history and depicts the life of a simple man born in a small village in Tibet in 1052. His father died leaving his mother to take care of Milerepa. His greedy relatives used subterfuge to cheat Milerepaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mother out of her inheritance and his mother lived a life as a virtual servant to the avaricious relatives. Wanting revenge, Milarepa left his village seeking teachings in the black arts of magic from a local Lama upon finding him Milerepa spent a year with the Lama

105

Trekking the Path

learning various magic spells. Upon returning to his village he used his newly acquired skills to bring a terrible storm upon the village killing many people and destroying property. Upon seeing the destruction he had caused, Milerepa became regretful and decided to seek a teacher in the ways of Dharma. He travelled a great distance and eventually found a teacher called Marpa.

Initially Marpa did not give teachings to

Milerepa and instead gave Milerepa some extremely hard tasks, such as building a house out of stone several stories high. After he had built the house, Marpa made him tear it down and build another, this went on for years and Milerepa eventually became disheartened and decided to leave Marpa in search of another teacher. Marpaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wife Damema, agreed with Milerepa that it did not look like Marpa would give him teachings, so she sent him with a falsified letter containing the seal of Marpa, which she had forged, to another teacher that lived in a distant province, that teacher was called Lama Ngogpa. Upon seeing the letter, Ngogpa felt honoured that Marpa wished him to give teachings to Milerepa, so not realizing the letter was a forgery, he gave Milerepa some teachings, after which Milerepa went to meditate in a cave for a long period of time. Despite his meditations he did not develop any realisations and he thought that because he had left Marpa and dishonestly presented the forged letter, that this was the reason that he had not achieved any realizations. Later on Marpa invited Ngogpa to a feast and Marpa also attended. When Marpa heard of the forged letter that his wife had given to Milerepa, he was angry and shunned Milerepa refusing to speak to him. But after some time he changed his mind and invited Milerepa to him. Upon meeting with Milerepa, Marpa made a detailed account of all that had occurred from the time they had first met. He said that he had set Milarepa extremely hard tasks such as building houses to help absolve him of his past sins. His own anger,

106

Trekking the Path

he said, was not common anger, but spiritual anger and it had, as its purpose, to incite repentance and contribute to the spiritual development of Milerepa. But owing to the misplaced pity and narrow understanding of his wife Damema, who had interfered with his plans, he was unable to give Milerepa sufficient hard tasks to absolve all his negative Karma before he left.

However, the sufferings that Milarepa had undergone had

cleansed him of his major sins had cleansed him of most of his minor sins leaving him with only a residual amount of demerit to be worked off. After this explanation Marpa gave Milarepa the teachings he so desired and following the teachings, Marpa shut Milerepa up in a cave with a supply of provisions. Milarepa then meditated for 11 months until Marpa and Damema came to take him out of isolation and assess his progress. Milarepa was reluctant to take a break from his meditations because of the great progress he was making but he followed his Guru's dictates.

Marpa now asked him what understandings he had obtained from his

meditations. Milarepa first sang a song, which he composed honouring his Guru and his wife and the teachings he had been given. In his song he requested that Marpa remain in the world until â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Whirling Pool of Being is emptiedâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. After that, he summarized his realisations. Marpa gave him more teachings and again Milerepa entered the cave to meditate. One night Milerepa had a dream about his mother and knew that she had died. He left the cave and asked Marpa for permission to leave, which Marpa gave. Upon arriving at his old village he discovered the grave of his mother and was very sad. He eventually sold all his possessions and land and from that day onward, went and meditated in many caves until he eventually attained enlightenment. The story of Milerepa is very dear to all Tibetans and reminds them that with this human rebirth one can, with great effort, achieve liberation in a single life time.

107

Trekking the Path

I wondered how many Lama’s had meditated in this region of high mountains and deep gorges, I felt a calmness and serenity as I continued to walk and recite Mantras. A Mantra is a religious or mystical syllable or poem, typically in the form of Sanskrit or Tibetan language. Mantras can be effective as a method to calm the mind and achieve mental stability through verbal or mental repetition, in the form of chanting, or internal mental recitation. Personally I find Mantra recitation a beautiful practice that calms the mind within a few minutes. One of the most common of all Mantra is the Mantra of Chenrezig, the Buddha of Compassion and the emanation of His Holiness IV Dalai Lama), ‘Om Mani Padme Hum’, The Mantra’s literal meaning is ‘Hail to the jewel in the lotus’, and according to a lecture given by His Holiness the Dalai Lama of Tibet at the Kalmuck Mongolian Buddhist Centre, New Jersey. USA; ‘It is very good to recite the Mantra OM MANI PADME HUM, but while you are doing it, you should be thinking on its meaning, for the meaning of the six syllables is great and vast. The first, OM, is composed of three pure letters, A, U, and M. These symbolize the practitioner's impure body, speech, and mind; they also symbolize the pure exalted body, speech and mind of a Buddha. Can impure body, speech and mind be transformed into pure body, speech and mind, or are they entirely separate? All Buddha’s are cases of being who were like ourselves and then, in dependence on the path, became Enlightened; Buddhism does not assert that there is anyone who from the beginning is free from faults and possesses all good qualities. The development of pure body, speech, and mind comes from gradually leaving the impure states and their being transformed into the pure. How is this done? The path is indicated by the next four syllables. MANI, meaning jewel, symbolises the factor of method, the altruistic intention

108

Trekking the Path

to become Enlightened, compassion, and love.

Just as a jewel is capable of removing

poverty, so the altruistic mind of enlightenment is capable of removing the poverty, or difficulties, of cyclic existence and of solitary peace. Similarly, just as a jewel fulfils the wishes of sentient beings, so the altruistic intention to become enlightened fulfils the wishes of sentient beings.

The two syllables, PADME, meaning lotus, symbolize

wisdom. Just as a lotus grows forth from mud but is not sullied by the faults of mud, so wisdom is capable of putting you in a situation of non-contradiction whereas there would be contradiction if you did not have wisdom. There is wisdom realising impermanence, wisdom realising that persons are empty of self-sufficient or substantial existence, wisdom that realises the emptiness of duality (that is to say, of difference of entity between subject and object), and wisdom that realises the emptiness of inherent existence. Though there are many different types of wisdom, the main of all these is the wisdom realising emptiness. Purity must be achieved by an indivisible unity of method and wisdom, symbolized by the final syllable, HUM, which indicates indivisibility. According to the sutra system, this indivisibility of method and wisdom refers to one consciousness in which there is a full form of both wisdom affected by method and method affected by wisdomâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. Still reciting the Tara Mantra, I found that we were descending towards the valley floor where the river snaked over boulders and rocks. We stopped for a brief lunch and once again made our way over the river towards what appeared to be a huge climb ahead. The trail was incredibly long and steep, but my mood was high and my energy, despite having already climbed two passes, was peaking. With every step I seemed to gain even more power as I trudged upward, at one point I even overtook our guides and, perhaps for the first time in the entire trek, I was way ahead of Natasha. The next pass

109

Trekking the Path

arrived after only about an hour or so and it was a monster, a huge gaping gorge could be seen ahead and I strutted off once again, my energy still on a high. The valley ahead rolled away as the trail snaked left and right in sharp slashes, the gorge was colossal with massive walls of granite that must have been over a kilometre straight down to the wisp like river below. After only an hour and a half we arrived at our next camp at the base of the monster mountain called Shinge-La; translated as the Lions Pass, the highest pass on the trek at an altitude of 5230 metres. I could see that Ramzan and Razak were amused at my sudden energy surge and Natasha was eyeing me suspiciously wondering what I had taken to give me such energy. I felt a sense of real achievement, my muscles ached and my feet hurt but I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t care and I slept well that night.

110

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 18 Snow Bound on Shinge-La and the Magic Yak At about 3 a.m. I awoke with a full bladder and had to pee, I emerged from my sleeping bag, teeth chattering, it was very cold as I extricated myself from the tent and ventured outside.

I felt what I thought were raindrops on my head, until my eyes

adjusted to the darkness, all around was a blanket of white, it was snowing. My mind did a few somersaults as I stood peeing in the snow. Later that day we would be climbing the highest pass of the trek and thoughts of being stranded on a Himalayan mountain swirled around my brain. I re-entered the tent and snuggled into my warm sleeping bag for the rest of the night. We awoke at about 6.30 a.m. and it was still snowing. After eating a hearty breakfast Natasha, Ramzan and I left camp and immediately started to climb up towards Shinge-La. The trail was steep and the snow continued to fall lightly, it reminded me of Christmas, there was a thin layer of snow all around and the mountain tops were obscured by dark and rather ominous snow laden clouds. As we walked further up the mountain the snow flakes seemed to grow in size from their initial delicate flakes to huge clumps of snow that clung to our clothes. I was wearing only a thin fleece and was starting to get a little cold. After about an hour of climbing, I was beginning to get a little worried, the snow was forming a deep layer and the visibility was getting much worse. I had visions of disappearing in the Himalayas never to be found again. My teeth started chattering and I walked a little faster to regain some body heat. After about three hours I could just about make out the outline of two huge Chortens and Tibetan prayer flags that marked the summit up ahead. By this time the snow was about half a metre deep and progress was slow, it was very cold and my thin fleece was not really sufficient. Luckily our ponies were very close behind and the lead pony held my rucksack that contained

111

Trekking the Path

my anorak and another fleece. Unpacking my rucksack I retrieved my jacket and quickly put it on, within minutes I was warm and we completed the climb to the summit. Upon arrival I could not see a thing, dense cloud covered the pass and just about everything else, we took pictures to commemorate our snow bound climb and waited for the ponies to catch up again. We were at almost 17,000 feet and this was perhaps the highest I have ever been in my life, other than chemically induced! It was an exhilarating moment despite the lack of visibility. Once the ponies caught up we stayed at the summit for a while pondering the next move. It was a total white out and nothing could be seen in any direction. I was beginning to think that this was it. I would freeze up here and be lost forever. Visions of the movies ‘Cliff-hanger’ and ‘Vertical Limit’ sprang to mind. I grinned bravely, my mind gradually weaving in and out of terror. Then just as quickly as it had arrived, the snow stopped and the sky began to clear. I could now see the other side of the pass and for many reasons that flashed across my mind; I wished that I hadn’t been able to see anything at all. Looking down towards the other side of the pass renewed my terror as there was no path to be seen in any direction, it was just a landscape of white escarpment with vicious chasms in all directions.

The porters and guides

scratched their heads looking for the path down. No-one was moving and the ponies looked bored. I sheepishly asked where the trail was and, in the usual Kashmiri fashion, there were vague waves, much head wobbling and much discussion, yet we were still not moving and it began to snow again. As my heart sank a little deeper, I happened to look through the snowfall to my left across the pass. There in stark contrast to the white snow was an apparition of a huge hairy horned beast. A massive black devil against a white backdrop, the beast was huge, with massive horns, long back hair and a long tail and it appeared to be levitating, well at least it looked like it was levitating, its levitation

112

Trekking the Path

being interspersed with occasional landings in a sort of manic hopping. This was a Yak, a huge black Yak, on spring loaded feet by all accounts. It was literally jumping vertically as if to attract attention. Then it suddenly took off and sped downhill at a tremendous pace. The guides, ponies and porters stared in amazement and then they all started shouting at once combined with much head wobbling and gesticulation we all followed the Yak on its downward mission. It created a path in its wake that we could all follow. Down, down, down we all went, the Yak still on a roll, continued to bounce like Tigger in Winnie the Pooh, I converted Tiggers' famous phrase to,‘Yakth’s Bounth’, and I laughed as we trounced down the newly created path to safety. Once we had reached the river, the hyper-active Yak, as quickly as it had appeared, disappeared from sight. I was back from the abyss, safe and sound and grinning with delight. I had traversed the highest pass in Zanskar and thanks to the Magic Yak; I was once again on firm ground heading towards the next camp. After almost 9 hours of walking we reached a huge gorge with a cluster of Tibetan houses perched on the top. The path wound its way down over another river section and we arrived at a rather busy camp-site where there were several other groups of trekkers making camp.

We set up camp and very soon we were drinking hot

chocolate and eating biscuits. We were approached by a Belgian couple who were trekking in the opposite direction to us. They asked about the trail ahead and were worried about the snow. We tried to re-assure them as best we could but were not really very confident as the sky above Shinge-La looked very heavy with snow; we wished them good luck all the same. It was perhaps the coldest night we had experienced and even though it did not snow, the air was frigid. The next morning was brilliantly clear and as soon as the sun rose above the mountains, it started to warm the day. We were going to ascend yet

113

Trekking the Path

another pass called Penge-La, a little lower than Shinge-La but as it transpired, this was to be perhaps the most dangerous of all the passes we had encountered.

114

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 19 The Mud Slide of Penge-La On the morning of the 12th September the clouds threatened more snow and our intrepid Belgian friends had already left camp, looking at the colour of the sky over Shinge-La, I was glad to be travelling in the opposite direction. I was very tired after the hard climb and descent of the previous day, my legs hurt, my feet hurt and I just wanted to sleep. Alas it was not to be and so after breakfast we began our march. As we headed down into the valley the sky took on an amazing light show. Dark almost blueblack clouds with brilliant silver linings gathered at lower altitudes, at the higher levels white clouds raced across the sky occasionally parting to reveal glimpses of blue. An amazing variation of shadows unfolded across the mountains. It snowed briefly causing a thin scattering of snow across the hills. Higher up towards the peaks the snow must have been much heavier and I felt a tinge of sympathy for the trekkers traversing Shinge-La. At one point we were surrounded by very thick dark cloud and the visibility was compromised so we had to slow our descent a little as it was quite slippery and dangerous in places. Then we started another ascent to Penge-La, a lower altitude pass, but still very steep in places. The melting snow had made the trail into a veritable quagmire of deep sticky, slippery mud. We started our climb and the shifting mud impeded our ascent to a crawl, it was almost two steps forward one step backward. This was an extremely dangerous situation as we were high up on a very narrow trail with extremely steep drops to our left. In places the trail was less than 12 inches wide and very slippery; several times I slid onto my backside cursing the mud, and just about everything else I could think of. On and on we went at a snails pace, it was very tiring and we were constantly aware of the danger of slipping. Nearer the top the mud started to dry out and the footholds became

115

Trekking the Path

a little easier, we also had to literally climb up rock in places as the trail disappeared altogether. Finally we reached the summit and sighed with great relief, but it turned out that the danger was not yet over. The way down turned out to be even worse, at least climbing up mud slopes there was a chance to find hand-holds to steady the ascent, but going down was treacherous and we skidded and slid most of the way. Finally we arrived at the base to more even more snow, which in places was knee deep and very slow going because it was so deep in places that we had to search carefully for a safe foot-hold. Finally we arrived at the river bed to firmer ground and the rest of the way to camp was relatively easy going. The campsite was in the most beautiful location imaginable, it was surrounded by glorious mountain peaks and sat alongside a crystal clear river with small ponds, waterfalls and pools of water, ideal for bathing and washing our clothes. I stripped off and had a wonderful bath; even though it was freezing cold it was great to feel the refreshing cool water on my tired body. There were times during this trek when I really thought I was mad to have attempted it, but I would never have missed this incredible experience and would have gladly done it all over again despite the hardship. There were days when I dreamt of hot showers and warm beds, but the serenity and beauty of Zanskar is really beyond description and I can not do it any justice in this narrative. Despite the pain, bad moods and exhaustion, there was a remarkable sense of great accomplishment and elation, few people get the chance to do something like this and I consider my self extremely fortunate to have been able to have done so. So often we only see the negative side of life and I too, without question, accentuated the pain, tiredness and fear to such an extent that it could have completely

116

Trekking the Path

swamped the beauty, drama and sheer exhilaration of the places we had travelled. Without question Buddhist philosophy helps one to overcome negativities, even if sometimes things do seem insurmountable and everything appears to collapse around you, the seed planted through listening to Buddhist teachings will germinate, the message does eventually sink in and amidst the pain, suffering and horrors of life there is always a little ray of light that, when allowed to develop, can fill you with a brilliant glow that can then radiate out and affect all those around you. What is this message? The message of Buddhism is simple and can be described simply in two parts. The first part is that a Buddhist tries to lead a life of non-violence. The second part is to understand reality as it actually exists rather than how we think it exists. Non-violence does not simply refer to physical violence, but refers to any action of body, speech or mind that is motivated through anger. We often think of anger as a sudden outburst of temper or rage, but anger has its causes and conditions and may start with just a mild impatience that eventually builds to frustration, intolerance and eventually anger and rage. Even the smallest frustration is a form of anger. A sarcastic retort is anger, selfishness, possessiveness and jealousy are all forms of anger, and therefore, any level of anger, no matter how small, is considered as a violent action. Living a life of non-violence requires great skill and intelligence, simply having the intention to be non-violent is insufficient, one must put it into practice, being aware of your own mind and its responses and reactions takes practice. Most of our actions are habitual, deep seated reactions that we have developed of many years, even lifetimes and, like most habits, they are hard to break.

His Holiness Dalai Lama was asked the

question once at a teaching I attended, he was asked what to do about an unruly child or a bullying child. He responded that sometimes it was necessary to use harsh action and in some cases, with situations where life is threatened, one can use force. However any

117

Trekking the Path

of these actions accompanied by anger are not acceptable. One can use force or harsh words but not with the motivation and generation of anger, but by the thought of compassion. A mother may scold her child for running near a busy road, this is done out of love motivated by the wish to protect the child from harm. Even using force to stop a person from causing harm to someone else, or even to themselves, if used with compassion, is not a violent act. Therefore violent action in itself is not the issue; it is the motivation behind the action that is more important. There is a story about the Buddha who was once taking a journey on a boat. He saw through his clairvoyance that the captain of the boat had the intention to kill everyone on board and steal their valuables. Knowing how much terrible Karma the captain of the boat would bring upon himself by killing all the people, the Buddha killed the captain out of compassion. Here the action would appear to be violent, yet driven by immense compassion the Buddha stopped the Captain from accumulating the negative Karma associated with killing so many people. The story is of course a metaphor to emphasise the point and of course it does not mean that one can go around killing people just because you think you may be stopping some terrible Karma, the Buddha was enlightened and had clairvoyant powers so he could actually see the results of the captain’s actions. Unfortunately we are not enlightened and therefore do not have such power and so we have to simply try to develop compassion and act in a non violent way. So many negative actions in the world are undertaken with the intention of a so called ‘just cause’, but often is the case that these ‘just causes’ are simply excuses to fulfil the ambitions and desires of greedy individuals. A life of non-violence is also very fulfilling to oneself, your mind is at peace when you act in this way, others around you want to be close to you and be around you. They want to become your friend because you radiate an energy that is peaceful and comfortable to be around. When you act out

118

Trekking the Path

of anger and frustration people around you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to know you and will try to get away from you. Your life will become lonely and miserable, therefore acting in a nonviolent way and developing this mind-set is an intelligent way to behave. The second point is that of seeing reality as it exists, often referred to as â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Emptinessâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; in Buddhist philosophy. This has complex and very deep explanations but can be understood basically through the understanding that all things have a cause; nothing can exist independently from its own side. Even the most solid objects, like mountains, have causes and conditions and will be subject to change as those causes and conditions change, and even mountains will eventually disappear, or new ones will be created. The law of Karma is simply the law of cause and effect as it relates to our own suffering, where our every action has a consequence and every consequence has a previous cause.

Even consequences will create actions, which in turn create new

causes and so on.

Simply understanding this concept is the beginning of a much

greater understanding. Knowing that everything in the universe is subject to the law of cause and effect can give stability to ones mind. Therefore creating negative actions will have negative effects and creating positive actions will have positive consequences, this is the law of Karma. Through understanding this law one can begin to understand that all phenomena are dependent upon their own causative circumstances.

Clinging to

phenomena as being solid and independent is like grasping at smoke and will eventually cause suffering. Seeing that such solid permanent phenomena can bring happiness is illusory, because such phenomena will eventually change causing disappointment and a sense of loss or frustration resulting in suffering. This does not mean that you can not enjoy life or enjoy nice things, of course you can, but seeing those things for what they really are changes your attitude towards them and stops the attachment and clinging to

119

Trekking the Path

them that causes suffering. Therefore the two main points in Buddhism of non-violence and seeing reality as it exists, are sensible guide-lines for living a good life, it is not religious or theistic and can be applied no matter what your belief systems, its just a cool way to live. As the clouds rolled away to reveal a perfect blue sky, the surrounding mountains sat silently with their snow capped peaks and craggy ridges, the river burbled and splashed over boulders and rocks and the air was clean and clear. There were just two days left of hard walking. Time was passing at a phenomenal rate and it did not seem like 19 days had already passed. This was a good example of change, on a minute by minute basis it is hard to notice things changing and time passing, but things change on a nano-second basis all the time, its like a cosmic trick being played upon us to confuse and disorientate. We generally do not see change unless it comes in big chunks like a tree falling or a car hitting a wall. But change is happening everywhere, nothing is exempt, yet we behave as though nothing changes, our actions do not comply with the reality. If we were to see things in super-slow motion then perhaps we would alter our perception. If we could view that new car we so desired through a super-magnifying glass that saw into the future, we would see it as it actually exists, just a collection of bits of metal and plastic that is gradually deteriorating and falling apart before our very eyes. I think if we could see it this way it would not be so attractive. If the beautiful girl or boy we desired could be seen through this magnifying glass as they really existed, just a collection of bones, tissue, muscle, sinew, blood and yucky bits, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not sure that the attraction would be so strong. In reality this is how things are, constantly changing, constantly dependent upon their parts, yet we only see what we want to see and we even exaggerate that! And when it changes to the point that we suddenly notice, we become disillusioned and disappointed and want a new one or different one and so the

120

Trekking the Path

process starts all over again.

The only way to reveal this cosmic joke is firstly to

understand at an intellectual level by analysing using meditation and then to develop an experiential understanding of reality through further introspection and familiarisation. When we start to see things as they really exist this will affect our every action and reduce our constant grasping, craving and aversion.

121

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 20 The Incredible Gorge The morning of the 13th September was sunny and warm and there was not a cloud in the sky, leaving this amazingly beautiful camp site we walked alongside the river for about an hour and then started an ascent that took us over a high ridge, Chortens lined the path as Tibetan flags fluttered in the breeze. Once over the ridge the trail wound back down through a small village of white-walled houses and we passed an ancient tree reputed locally to be over 1000 years old, it was covered in flags and various silks. Passing through the tiny hamlet we emerged onto another trail and began another ascent. The terrain became very rugged and in places disappeared altogether as it followed a river and wound its way along the edge of a stone cliff face. We came to a small valley with huge mountains on either side and the path was very narrow with steep slopes on one side and solid rock on the other. Higher and higher we climbed over another ridge then into a deep cut gorge.

The gorge was so deep that even

sunlight did not enter into it and we were in shadow for most of the time.

As we

continued into the gorge the trail teetered along the edge of a huge cliff, the steep drop to the river causing some anxiety as we navigated our way along the cliff face. The huge vertical walls of the gorge rose up on either side giving an almost claustrophobic quality to the place. The cliffs were massive rising into the sky like castle walls belonging to some gargantuan giant. The place was completely silent apart from the muffled sound of rushing water far below. Further into the gorge we travelled, it was as if we were leaving civilisation behind us, the walls seemed even higher and we were like tiny ants crossing an endless landscape of solid rock, not a single soul did we see for several hours through this massive open cavern. Eventually we spotted a canopy of white up ahead,

122

Trekking the Path

perched on a small outcrop of rock as if suspended in space above the raging river below. Such enterprise knows no limitations and here in the middle of this impressive gorge was a restaurant constructed of an Indian Air Force parachute silk, I hoped that the restaurant owner had not deprived some pilot of his escape route! We stopped for Chai and biscuits in the restaurant at the end of the universe.

The owner had a

mountain bike and when he didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have customers, which I imagined was hardly ever, he spent his days cycling in endless circles on an outcrop of rock overlooking a cascading waterfall at least a hundred metres below. I hoped his brakes worked! Leaving the Parachute Chai Shop we continued our walk along even more narrow pathways cut into the cliff, the trail slowly descended toward the river and eventually we came upon a bridge that spanned the raging torrent below. It was a strange bridge, well constructed of wood and metal, but it was strange in that it did not seem to go anywhere when it reached the other side. There was another small trail off to the right in the opposite direction from which we had come, but it was hard to see where it actually went, so just for fun, I crossed the bridge and posed for a picture, it was an eerie sensation being suspended above the river surrounded by gargantuan walls over 1000ft high on both sides. The rock walls were a beautiful pale gold colour that gave an almost fairy tale quality to this magical place. After several more hours of walking, the trail became wider and eventually we came upon a road construction crew, complete with trucks and diggers. The air was full of dust and debris and rock was being tossed into the river below turning it into a grey cloudy soup. The previous serenity of the gorge was assaulted by the shouts of the men and the roaring of diesel engines. It became clear that the government were building a metallised road through the gorge, blasting away rock to create the road that would be used to carry huge trucks to transport goods to the more remote areas of Zanskar. It

123

Trekking the Path

was a feat of engineering, no doubt, but my reaction to this attack on nature was of great sorrow. This beautiful natural gorge carved over a millennium by the raging river and turbulent winds, ice and snow, would soon become a major highway reverberating with the unnatural sound of diesel engines and to my mind, no doubt, polluting the pristine nature with their oily grime and fumes.

It seemed a real travesty to destroy this

environment and to destroy one of the very few natural trekking trails in Zanskar. I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t imagine trying to trek though here once the road is complete, unless one would enjoy dodging trucks and taxis and breathing carbon-monoxide fumes instead of pure mountain air. It seems that man is determined to destroy the most beautiful parts of this planet with little regard of the consequence to future generations. The answer to environmental issues seems to be so logical and just common sense, yet no-one appears to have the will, or motivation, do anything. Money, power and greed rule the day. It is common knowledge that we canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t continue to rely on fossil fuels, yet we still plunder the earth ripping up natural areas of beauty for fossil fuel, we manufacture seemingly unnecessary goods and throw toxins into the atmosphere, we are constantly told to buy this or that and throw the old stuff away creating yet even more piles of garbage. The answer can only be through compassion, because when things are done with a compassionate motivation with others welfare in mind, we would stop the destruction of rain forests and become more environmentally conscious, it is through self cherishing and greed that all damage to the environment is perpetuated. Perhaps one day when there is a major environmental catastrophic event, will we realise and maybe make changes if itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not too late. Seeing first hand this road crew blasting and hacking their way through this natural wonder is a sad indictment to the future.

124

As we left the gorge, there was

Trekking the Path

sadness in everyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s heart that this may be the last time that we would see this place in its natural splendour. We arrived at a small campsite just outside of the town of Wadil. The site was very pretty and set alongside a river. At this lower altitude it was very warm and I found a small tributary to the main river and discarding all but my knickers I lay down on the smooth stony river bed and let the cool water rush over my body, a sort of horizontal shower. This was to be the penultimate night under canvas, the next day we would hike to Lamayuru the last destination of the trek, I had heard a lot about Lamayuru, its moonscape like mountains and the old monastery. It was another beautiful start lit night, but I still could not help but think of the road crew blasting away the natural beauty of that wonderful gorge.

125

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 21 Lamayuru Last Stop It was the 14th September and the last day of the trek. One more night under canvas and that was the end of my adventure, or so I thought. The road led out of camp into a rather featureless gorge of shale and boulders. It was arid and rather boring compared to the gorge of the previous day. After about 2 hours of intense climbing we arrived at a narrow gulley and a particularly steep section that led to a ridge and the top of the final pass before Lamayuru. The climb was arduous and the heat of the morning was intense. The gulley narrowed to just a few feet wide as the trail zigzagged upwards to the summit. The path was littered with rocks, shale and boulders and was difficult to negotiate but the view was seriously impressive once we had finally reached the top. The vast valley below was like one would imagine a scene from Mars or the Moon. There were huge cliffs of rippled sandstone and snow-mountains surrounding the escarpment.

It was as if some giant had sculpted the entire valley, ridges and

mountains looked as though they had all been purposely carved with some strange intent.

I have never seen such strange and impressive rock formations and as we

descended the trail down towards the valley floor, the view was mesmerising. Our guide informed us that just the other side of the mountain range was Pakistan and that the Indian military had a huge presence along the border area from here to Leh in Ladakh. We would see evidence of this presence in the days to come. The trail down took about one and a half hours and as we approached Lamayuru, we encountered three Yaks being driven by their owner. They were beautiful creatures with long swishing tails and huge horns. They reminded me of our ‘magic Yak’ that had guided us down from Shinge-La except that these Yaks didn’t bounce and maybe it was

126

Trekking the Path

not a bouncing day for them. We arrived in Lamayuru just after lunchtime and set up camp in the shadow of the old Monastery that overlooked the town. The original monastery was established by the Indian scholar Naropa in the 11th century, and according to history, on the site of a dried-up lake. Lamayuru is the one of the largest and also one of the oldest Gompas in Ladakh with a population of around 150 monks in residence. In the past, there were said to have been over 400 monks living there and many of which are now based in Gompas' in the surrounding villages. Every year there are two masked dance festivals, in the second and fifth months of the Tibetan lunar calendar, when all the monks from these surrounding Gompas' gather together. The camp was a little noisy compared to the tranquillity of our previous site but the little village was friendly and we had a nice Chai in one of the small tea shops nearby. There was not much to see in the town but the next day we would go and visit the Monastery and look around. After a final night under canvas we would take a jeep to Leh where we would part company with Ramzan and Razak. I can not express sufficient gratitude to these two guys, they were our councillors, guides, porters, tent pitchers, cooks and philosophers for our entire journey of over 136 kilometres. Never once did I hear a note of frustration or anger, they were always smiling and joking and made sure we were always safe. I would thoroughly recommend these guys to anyone wanting to trek in this beautiful land. The next day we climbed the short road to Lamayuru monastery and went inside the main Gompa. Two huge and highly decorated doors with ornate paintings and brass metal-work guarded the entrance to the Gompa. Inside were old wooden floors polished with timeless use and at the far end of the hall was a huge altar containing many statues and pictures of saints and Lamas, a huge central butter-lamp burned giving a wonderful

127

Trekking the Path

flickering glow to the old hall.

Old Thangkas hung from the walls and the scent of

incense was pungent in the air. In the wall on the right of the hall was a wooden door, and old Lama shuffled up to us and opened the door to reveal a small cave apparently in which Naropa had meditated for many years. The rest of the monastery complex was constructed of whitewashed rooms many of which had been added in later years. The roof of each part of the monastery was in typical Tibetan style with about a half meter layer of sticks and grasses that insulated the houses from the harsh cold winter snow. Up on the roof of the monastery the views were spectacular, the Himalayan ranges could be seen far into the distance and the strange lunar landscape dominated the immediate foreground. I could imagine Lamayuru in mid-winter surrounded by deep snow; it must be hard for the monks living here at that time of year as I doubt anything could get in or out. Some parts of the monastery were literally ancient, old wooden beams bent with the years of supporting the stone walls above. There was an ancient white Stupa at the top of the complex crumbling with age and containing ancient relics of a long deceased Lama. The old walls contained creaking prayer wheels that squealed as they were rotated. One old Stupa seemed to have a newer part built on to and was maybe particularly special. Workmen could be seen constructing a newer part of the monastery, but its style was completely in keeping with the older parts and I guess in a few years would look much like the rest of the complex. Looking down from the roof I could see an area that was clearly much older than the rest of the Monastery and was perhaps part of the original structure built in the 11th century. Old Stupaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and Chortens were decaying and crumbling and we walked up a pathway which took us to the top of a hill that overlooked the entire monastery, a lone Chorten marked the summit and a few tattered prayer flags flickered in the wind. This was indeed a magical place to end the trek and Natasha and I

128

Trekking the Path

sat on the peak for a while reminiscing before returning to our camp for our last night under canvas. The following day we would take the jeep to Leh.

129

Trekking the Path

CHAPTER 22 The Road to Leh The following day we had our last breakfast with Ramzan and Razak and packed our stuff into the Jeep to begin our journey to Leh. The road passed through many military encampments and it seemed that wherever I looked there was a military presence, Air Force jets screamed overhead, helicopters ferried to and fro causing a constant clattering in the air, convoys of tanks and military vehicles pounded their way along the Leh road. This was a far cry from the remote trails and pathways of the Zanskar region; it was almost a wall of sound and activity that assaulted the senses. I craved to be back in the mountains, amongst the snow peaks and silence, to once again sit by our camp-fires or bathe in the freezing rivers.

As we overtook rickety buses

belching dense smelly diesel smoke, my eyes became gritty and sore from the dust. There were times when I wanted nothing else but a warm bed and hot shower, but now amidst this cacophony and chaos of normal Indian life, I felt estranged and wanted to escape back to the wilderness. We would soon be saying farewell to our friends of the past 21 days; I would so miss their smiles and joking and their wonderful food and the steaming cups of Chai that always awaited us at the end of a long hard day. But part of me knew I would go back one day, it might be very different with new roads and retreating glaciers, but I would go back, that I knew. We arrived in Leh after lunch and found a wonderful Tibetan hotel in one the back streets of Leh. Unloading our bags and handing a huge pile of dirty, smelly, dusty laundry (including rucksacks) to the hotel staff, we locked our hotel door and went to bid farewell to our friends. It was an emotional parting and we said our goodbyes and promised to see each other again. Returning to our hotel we found our room to be bright and cheerful with a lovely balcony and perfect view of the mountains. After a hot shower

130

Trekking the Path

we went to explore Leh. It was a wonderful old town with lively streets and interesting shops and stores selling all manner of items from carpets to statues, clothes and trinkets.

The array of food shops was awesome and we spent the next 4-5 days

exploring Leh, eating and enjoying the facilities. Many of the hotels and restaurants were closing up for the winter and it was noticeable that there were few tourists at this time of the year. After a few days of rest and recuperation we decided to book a bus to take us to Manali, the route would traverse the highest road in the world, the Manali -Leh highway. This was to be our final adventure of this trek; and it was perhaps the most terrifying of all. We arrived at the bus stop at around 5.30 a.m. and boarded the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;luxuryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; bus to Manali. It was a small bus that could hold about 25 passengers. I noticed the tyre tread was almost non-existent. The bus was battered and scarred from its many sojourns across the Leh-Manali highway and appeared to be held together with wire and string. I just hoped that it would hold together for at least another 2-3 days. We finally left Leh and rattled out of town towards the main highway. The Leh-Manali Highway crosses some of the highest mountain passes in the world, including Rohtang-La (3,978metres, 13,050 ft), Baralacha-La (4,892metres, 16,050 ft), Lachulung-La (5,059metres, 16,600 ft) and Taglang-La (5,325metres, 17,470 ft), and is open only between June and midSeptember when snow is cleared from the road. It connects the Manali valley to Kullu valley, Lahaul and Spiti and Ladakh. The journey would take about 2 days in all and we would spend one night in an overnight camp. The journey started its ascent almost immediately and the landscape was absolutely stunning in all directions and resembled a turbulent sea with massive waves, the giant Himalayas spreading out as far as the eye could see. Very soon the road

131

Trekking the Path

started a huge traverse of the mountain side, mile after mile of switch-back as the heavily laden bus crawled up the incline at a snails pace, it probably would have been quicker to get out and walk in most places. Snow lay spread across the foothills and the clouds cast amazing shadows that created a moving landscape of colour, shape and form. We crossed the first pass and as I looked out of the window, the road seemed like a tiny snails-trail across the mountains. It was never sensible to look down as, on occasion, it seemed like we were balancing on the rim of a huge abyss as the bus jittered and groaned its way over the first pass and then started its descent. Gears crunched, brakes squealed and the engine whined in noisy defiance as gravity assaulted the old bus. I imagine that clutches didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t last long in this part of the world. Tyres even less so by the look of ours! The altitude here was about 4000 metres and the peaks of the mountains all around gave the impression that we were traversing the very roof of the world.

For hours on end we creaked and screeched our way across Ladakh

occasionally stopping for pee breaks or Chai.

Towards the end of the first day we

passed a huge monolith of granite, it was like a church spire only ten times higher than anything man made, this huge spire seemed to have been carved from the mountain itself, which of course it was, only on this occasion the sculptor that had laboriously carved this monolith was the wind, snow and rain. The sky seemed a much deeper blue here and the snow capped peaks stood stark against this heavenly backdrop. As dusk settled and the sun fell from the sky the air became chilled and the passengers pulled out blankets and rugs of all description to protect them from the bitter cold. Luckily I had a Down sleeping bag, which we were both very glad to have and it kept us very warm that night.

132

Trekking the Path

Snow began to fall as darkness descended, the flakes becoming larger as we heard the engine squeal and the gears rattle as the bus started another steep ascent. Very soon visibility became very poor as the, less than adequate, windscreen wipers failed to clear the deluge of snow that was driving against the glass. I began to feel a little anxious as several times the bus slewed around corners as the tread-less tyres failed to grip the snow covered road. I peered out of the window and saw that we were on a very narrow road, the edge dropped away to a bottomless ravine, a black abyss against the white of the snow laden road. The snow fall had transmuted into a blizzard and the wind howled driving more snow onto the already covered road. The bus continued its battle with gravity as it skidded and slithered up the steep mountain road. Everyone on the bus was silent and you could hear a pin drop, I think everyone was petrified, including me. It then occurred to me that once we were over the pass the worse was yet to come, climbing uphill with poor traction was one thing, but going back down where good, (or for that matter any), traction was essential, was like dicing with death itself. The road flattened as the bus reached the summit of the pass. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not certain which pass it was, but at this point I really didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t care a jot, I just wanted to get down off this damn mountain in one piece. No sooner had we crossed the summit than we started to descend, the snow was still pounding the windscreen and, as we were seated fairly close to the front of the bus, I could see the driver looking intensely through the snow blasted windshield. I have to say that the driver was excellent; he was obviously careful and experienced and did not appear to be taking excessive risks, however this did not really quell the sheer terror that was in my chest. In the headlights of the bus, it was possible to see the twisting road ahead through the blinding snow. Hairpin bends loomed through the shadows as we slowly descended. The tyres sometimes lost what little traction there was in the first

133

Trekking the Path

place and the bus slewed and skidded, I imagine the only traction came from the sheer weight of the vehicle rather than any tread that may have engaged tarmac. After a heart-stopping 3 hours or so we eventually arrived at the over-night stop.

This

comprised a group of small shacks that served hot food and also doubled as sleeping quarters and it was like a vast dormitory with each bed separated by a flimsy curtain. Privacy was not on the menu, but the food was hot and tasty. We each claimed a bed and soon snuggled deep under blankets and sleeping bags. It was a very cold night and once I had to get up and go outside to pee, it was still snowing, but less than before, the occasional star flickered in the night sky. The following morning we had to wake up the driver who was still asleep in the cab of the bus along with his crew. Boarding the bus we took off once again, at least it was no longer snowing and the thin snow layer would soon melt as the sun rose above the mountains.

The next leg of the journey would take us over several more high

altitude passes towards Manali. On several occasions we saw the remains of a truck or bus rusting in the river thousands of feet below. Accidents were common-place on the Leh-Manali highway and I simply hoped that we would not become another statistic. After about two hours we traversed a huge pass, which I think was Taglang-La, at an altitude of 5,325 metres or about 17,500 ft, the snow capped peak of the mountain filled the sky as our bus reached the pass and headed back down into the valley. Now we were heading for Rohtang Pass, the final pass before we reached Manali. We passed a huge waterfall cascading from the top of a massive gorge, the river vaulted over the precipice and into the base of the gorge below. It would have been amazing to see the waterfall at a closer range where millions of gallons of water was free-falling into the river below.

134

Trekking the Path

The road flattened out as we reached the base of the valley and no sooner had we attained a horizontal aspect, again the engine screamed as we once more ascended the towards the final leg of our journey towards Rohtang Pass, at an altitude of 3978 metres, or 13,000 ft. The road swerved from left to right like a giant switch-back. The river in the valley below became a tiny silver hairline as we ground our way upwards. Huge snow covered peaks came into view and white fluffy clouds skittered across the sky forming strange shadows. Looking out of the window the snake-like road vanished into infinity in its zigzag pattern across the mountainside. The higher we climbed, the dramatic Himalayan peaks filled the skyline and sometimes the clouds covered the summit like a layer of icing. Colourful trucks with gears crashing and engines belching thick acrid smoke from their exhausts slowly climbed the road ahead and my teeth clenched as we slowly and laboriously overtook these behemoths of the road with barely an inch protecting us from the seething maw below. After about three hours of constant climbing we finally arrived at Rohtang Pass and our bus pulled into an obviously well catered rest area. Everyone got off the bus and headed for the toilets that were actually rather rickety steel shacks with doors that would not close properly, some of which teetered on the edge of a small cliff. There was a viewing area a few metres away and I strolled over to take some more pictures, I now have more pictures of mountains than I know what to do with. I could even see the waterfall that we had passed earlier. After Chai and biscuits we got back onto our bus and headed down the mountain towards Manali and after a relatively uneventful few hours our bus finally pulled into Manali and we all disembarked, grateful to be alive and thanking our driver. It was the end of the journey; all I had to do now was to wait for my friend to arrive from the UK who I had arranged to meet in Manali. It had been the trip of a

135

Trekking the Path

lifetime to be sure. There were hardships, pain and incredible suffering, yet the sense of accomplishment was intense, I had achieved something that I never, for one moment, ever thought I would be able to accomplish. From that first step from my tiny apartment in McLeod Ganj to traversing some of the highest passes in the world and witnessing some of the most incredible scenery this planet has to offer, it finally came to an end with a final step in Manali. At least that is the way it appeared, but in reality there was no beginning or end. Where did the journey actually start, was it when I left the apartment in McLeod Ganj, or did it begin with the thought to undertake it in the first place, or was it a culmination of circumstances that had led me to meet Natasha on another trek in Nepal? The more one searches for a beginning the less one can find it. The same applies to the end, where is the end? Again the more you search the less you find. So, what I have learned from it all? I think that the important lesson for me is that life is a journey and not a destination and the way that it unfolds has nothing to do with destiny or fate, nor is it controlled by some divine force. Life unfolds as a result of ones own previous actions. This is actually quite satisfying when you begin to understand the concept, it is also very calming in many respects, because it means that we control our own future, everything we experience is our own doing and not some whim of fate, God or destiny. When someone yells at us, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s actually our own fault if we suffer, we can react in one of two ways, we can externalise the event and blame someone or something else, or we can accept what has happened as being the result of our own past actions and take responsibility for it. There are no coincidences, just consequences and consequences manifest as a result of actions, therefore if we can manage our actions correctly by understanding reality as it actually exists, then we can experience consequences that will help us to achieve happiness.

136

Trekking the Path

All life in Samsara, or the cycle of life, is suffering, even what we think are the good bits!

That wonderful piece of chocolate, the bliss of the taste may seem like

happiness, yet as His Holiness Dalai Lama says, if the chocolate itself were capable of bringing happiness, then the more you ate the more happiness it would give, yet clearly if you eat too much chocolate you vomit. Friends can turn into to enemies and enemies into friends, lovers become outcasts and outcasts become lovers. Nothing stays the same, everything changes, yet we always try to make time stand still by giving permanence to everything, only to become disappointed and let down when it does in fact inevitably change. Through small changes in our perception we can reduce this constant round of clinging and aversion and we can eventually become enlightened. Enlightenment is not like a light bulb that is suddenly switched on, neither is it some sort of cosmic plug you can insert into the universal socket and become one with everything. It is a process of gradual change and altering the way in which we normally think. Through meditation we can calm the rampaging elephant of our mind that unwittingly drags us here and there.

We can tame this chattering monkey that always wants

something new to entertain itself. We can chain the elephant through introspection and eventually we will experience the clarity of the minds own true nature.

We can

eventually dissolve this illusion of self that we cling to so strongly. When you analyse and look inwardly to find where this self resides it becomes impossible to find it, we simply label all our parts with the title â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;selfâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; then we nurture it, exaggerate and protect it and when someone attacks it with words we donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like, this inflated self reacts as if it were something so real and tangible and responds with annoyance and anger. And when we hear words that we do like, this self become puffed up and filled with pride, again serving to further derange our mind, yet it is all an illusion, there is no self as we imagine it to be, it is just a label given to our composite parts and when we first realise

137

Trekking the Path

this selflessness, it is a shock to the system, what we once thought as solid and independent now becomes like smoke and our illusory self evaporates.

What we

determine as self, is simply a collection of parts that we exaggerate and amplify into something solid and permanent. Our mind stream is simply made up of thoughts and the spaces between thoughts, these thoughts respond to our senses and we act almost sub-consciously through habits nurtured over lifetimes. Once we become awakened, we realise that we can change the way we are and experience true and lasting happiness. This happiness will inspire others to want the same and, in turn, it will inspire us to want to give and to become more compassionate. Once a being becomes enlightened they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t just disappear into the cosmos and contemplate their belly-button. They want all living things to experience the same and so return to teach, to show great compassion and show the way out of suffering. I hope this narrative will help all sentient beings in some small way, my journey still continues, I will fall, I will make mistakes and I will continue to suffer, but every journey starts with a single step and I have many steps left to take, well maybe, who knows?. I hope all your steps will be filled with happiness.

As long as space endures, As long as sentient beings remain, So shall I too remain, To ease the miseries of this world. Shantideva.

THE END

138

Trekking the Path

The Author Michael Smith was born in Birmingham, England.

He studied Microbiology and

Clinical Biochemistry. He joined the Royal Air Force in 1968 as a medical scientist and travelled extensively until he left the RAF in 1975 to work in the private medical sector as a clinical biochemist. In 1978 Michael took a break from his medical career to write and perform music, he also toured and played with several bands and in 1979 he wrote and produced his solo album entitled ‘Raindance.’ In 1980 he visited India to travel for six months and in 1981 he had a private audience with His Holiness Dalai Lama and stayed in Dharamsala to establish a medical laboratory at the Tibetan Delek Hospital. Returning to the UK in 1984 he started his own private pathology laboratory and medical practice in Harley Street, London in1985. In 2006 he gave up his business interests in the U.K to retire to Dharamsala, India, where he now lives permanently. He spends his time studying Buddhism, writing, travelling and playing music and describes himself as an ‘awful Buddhist.’

139