Retreat from spiti

Sunday morning 0720 decision made in light of the aussie prediction of ten days til pass open..this is the view from rekong peo...at which point I returned to the bus, grabbed seat, regretted timings and, wearing my brown corduroys and bicycle clips, clenched my buttocks in joy at the thought of the journey...and was surprised to find that it was okay, in fact enjoyable; with a driver who wasn't in a hurry and seated: I guess the first journey was just horrendous, this one was ok...I wondered if I'd found my bus legs...

And then four hours later into the next stop, and thali, bus stand...bus to ani, five pm...or bus to luhuri and then bus to ani, easier, many buses...and there, sitting on a corner eating a samosa in luhuri, an epiphany...this is what I'd been missing, a random hat with a rucksack just watching with occasional chats as India flowed around me...echoes and memories...a gentle, recent, reminder about the journey...vague clarity...these plans, direct journeys, they were never part of it, or they were but not the definition...later I found alternatives for next attempt at leh, spiti, kashmir...local buses, slowly, remembering that the journey may well be the most remarkable part...it was a mirror which offered a kindly reflection, if somewhat ragged...

And so, 1830 into ani, same room, an hour of light...samosa by the river, some thought, tinged regret maybe...Spiti missed, is this a retreat...then realised how tired I was, and smelly, very, after three days of about ten hours on buses through the mountains...Spiti would be two more and turn around reverse and repeat; too much...next time...

And next the jalauri pass again...the first bus 0630, next about 0900...where would I go? Thoughts of parvati, malana maybe, the rasol la...or another day in ani, a day spent amongst hills borrowed from perthshire...a day not sat upon solid seats and juggled by improbables...

Later, as a stood under the latest variant of bucket shower, a plan began to form...oddly enough around the lost concept of my own shower...ten days til the Delhi bus, and under a flag of truce with myself over spiti, I flipped open the book ( a gathering of opinions other than mine and a wealth of occasionally approximate inaccuracies and irksome omissions) to see what I could find...