The Mountain Walker Diaries: My Kind of Weather

Kaza, Himachal Pradesh, India, 21 January 2017, 1215 hours:
We are on our way towards Losar. The weather is overcast, we are all bundled up, but we know this is going to be a hard day – there is wind, there is snow up ahead and it’s a hazy white blanket.
This is our fourth day in Spiti and now that I am getting used to the weather, I am getting restless with the slow-pace of our daily work and feel like breaking free and pushing ahead, further, faster, preferably on foot.
Today we have taken the bridge to cross over the Spiti river from Kaza. We have been through Rangrik, Keurik, Sumling, and Morang villages so far. At all the villages, our conversation with curious men and women have gone:

Aap kahan se aaye ho? (Where have you come from)”

“Pune and Shimla,” we have been replying.

Aap itni baraf mein yahan kyoon aye ho?!” (Why have you come here in so much snow?).

The weather in the Greater Himalayas towards Losar is exactly the kind I was hoping we would be driving into. And now that I have the weather I wanted, am reminded of a very wise proverb: Be careful what you wish for, for your wish may come true.
We are now standing a kilometre from the bridge to Hull village and beyond.


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