Getting up (7.00 am)
If yesterday was an Oreo Day, today was a Black Coffee Day, not because of any artistic visualisation, but simply because the morning was so sunny and crispy right off the bat, that we decided to start the day with black coffee instead of tea. We needed the warmth of the caffeine to quicken our sluggish flow of blood. It was 6°C in the shade.
The sun crept up to our backs as we sat having hot poha. How is it that everything tastes better in the cold? I think the tongue just promotes anything hot, anything calorie-filled, as the ambrosia of the moment. Baad mein dekha jayega.
Over breakfast, we pondered what to do with this sunny morning. Today, Panna decided, she will NOT get wet, therefore it would be quite okay to revisit the waterfall near Bathad village, and to see where our newfound friends Jayasree and Sunil Shah had put up. It would be a relaxed morning.
Bathad visit (10.00 am)
This time we did not make the mistake of trying to walk the three kilometres to Bathad in the hot sun. Amarbhai had said that a bus will pass our homestay around 9.45 am, and we were ready on the dot, twiddling our thumbs on the roadside. The road was absolutely empty in either direction. A heady smell of rotten apples hung in the air, as rejects from the plucking season lay on the road opposite our homestay.
Sure enough, a private bus came tooting around the bend at 9.50 am and we flagged it down. After a ten-minute ride, we alighted at the Bathad bus stop, a small square surrounded by a few shops. The walk to Bathad market was a familiar five-minute stroll, and down we went past the government school to the forest walkway. School assembly was going on and the small field was full of children (more girls than boys, mind you) being lined up with millimetric precision by a school teacher with OCD.
The forest walk was as lovely as ever. We were a little early and we had the whole pathway, the whole bridge and the whole waterfall to ourselves. As we climbed down the stone steps to the foot of the waterfall, where the Ghalingcha river meets the Flachen river and carries on downstream towards Walnut House as the latter river, I found Panna muttering under her breath. She was cursing herself at not wearing river-appropriate clothes, and also consoling herself that today was perhaps 'too cold' for aquatic activities. Instead, she went into the oddest postures trying to find out the most perfect location and the most flattering angle for taking the prize-winning photograph.
I had looked away for some time, and Panna chose that very moment to mis-step into the water and dunk both her sneakers. Perhaps her subconscious was working overtime in her favour. We found a dry sunny spot and laid out her socks and sneakers to dry in the sun, while we sat around idly. It was then she had a brain wave.
The river crossing (11.00 am)
Since she was wet anyway, why shouldn't she try the river crossing? Barefeet? Less chance of slipping?
Well, she had a point. And here the river was just about forty feet across and a knee-deep at places. The only minus point was the speed of the water. The risks of getting carried downstream was low, since she would get stuck at various points. Doable proposition, and I gave her a thumbs up.
She chose a point with care, where the bed was visible, flat rocks were fewer (they tend to be slippery) and the other bank climbable. And before you could say Jack Robinson, she was across. She walked across to the confluence point of the Ghalingcha and Flachen rivers and spent some time there, recording the event for posterity.
We climbed back to where we had left her shoes and socks drying in the sun (theoretically drying, because I don't think they dried the least bit). A shepherd with his flock of sheep was climbing down the path, a big grin on his wizened face. Angurilal was also originally from Rajasthan, like many others who had settled in these parts. He sat down next to us while the sheep clambered all over the place, enjoying the verdant foliage to the fullest. To them, it must have been like an all-you-can-eat sushi bar.
Reunion at the riverside (12.00 noon)
Our new friends, the Shahs, were staying at the Apna Ghar homestay at Bathad village, and we popped down for a visit. Luckily they had just returned from a walk ten minutes ago. This homestay was very old, the architecture very traditional, and it was a sort of landmark in the village. Apna Ghar had originally started as a lunch place and its food was famous in the whole of Tirthan valley. The Shahs said that on Sundays, they get around 100 customers for lunch, which is no mean feat for a remote village restaurant. They have some very pretty eating spots set out beside the river, just a couple of minutes from the rooms, and Panna promptly wet her feet again, this time by choice. The Shahs looked at her doubtfully.
Our travel profiles being quite similar - retired, able to take long trips, long drive addict etc - we assured each other that we will do some trip together. Maybe Leh Ladak.
On that tone of future hope, we parted. Surely we will meet sometime, somewhere.
Back to Walnut House (1.45 pm)
We caught the 1.30 pm bus back to our homestay. It was still sunny as we sat down for lunch, but around 4.00 pm, like yesterday, the sky darkened with black clouds. No rain yet, but the temperature was down; I wanted to sit outside, watching the dramatic sky, but scooted in after a while. We have ordered pakodas as snacks and that should go excellently with this weather. Amarbhai, where is that steaming plate of fritters and ginger tea?
Ahhhhh! There it is!
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