India – June 2024
It’s 4am when my night bus pulls into the government bus stand in Manali. All I want to do is lay down and sleep. I don’t seem to be the only one. After all, the waiting hall of the bus terminal is filled with people stretched out on the floor, only protected from the Himalayan wind by some colourful blankets. As it’s still dark, I decide to postpone the search for my hostel for now and sit down on my backpack, resting my head on the wall and soon drift off into a light sleep. An hour or so later, I’m woken by a stray dog’s puppies playing between the waiting passengers. I watch the cute animals for a while before finally getting up and strolling through Manali as the sun slowly rises. On the way to the old town part, I pass a man with 2 Yaks and I can tell that I am to discover yet a whole different part of India. During the treks to Kareri lake and Triund I have seen some of the impressive mountain ranges of Himachal, but this feels different. My first impression is confirmed once I make it to Hodophile Homestay up in Old Manali.
My host is Tariq Wani, a Ladakhi entrepreneur and founder of Zanskar Adventure Point (ZAP Himalaya), which runs trekking, adventure and educational tours across the region. He is also involved with Drenmo Lodge, a remote lodge in western Ladakh dedicated to spotting Himalayan brown bears. Located in the Mushkow Valley, the lodge grew out of local homestays and combines wildlife tourism with efforts to reduce human-bear conflict and support the local community. As luck would have it, Tariq is in Manali during my trip. He takes me out for breakfast, and since I have a background in tourism, our conversation quickly moves beyond the usual small talk. We chat about tourism development, sustainability and the challenges of bringing visitors to such remote mountain regions. But it is his stories about Ladakh, especially Drenmo Lodge and its bears, that stick with me most. By the time we finish breakfast, I am even more convinced that I need to make it there myself on a future trip to India.
But for now, it’s time to explore Manali. I’m here because my Korean friend Sinae, who has travelled extensively around India, recommended the sleepy mountain town when I asked her for places to visit in Himachal Pradesh. She and I have very similar travel styles, so as I step onto the steep main road leading down into town, I’m confident I’ll have a good time. My first stop is a small restaurant near the Manaslu River. An Aloo Paratha and a cup of Chai later, I’m convinced that Sinae was right. Old Manali is a strange mixture of mountain village, backpacker hangout and old Hippie Trail stopover. Cafés with rooftop terraces sit alongside traditional wooden houses, guesthouses and small local shops. One moment I’m walking past a restaurant serving Mexican food, the next I’m watching locals go about their daily routines against a backdrop of enormous mountains.
After a remote Japanese lesson on the rooftop with a view, I spend one afternoon simply wandering. An alley lined with traditional-style buildings eventually leads away from the centre and towards the outskirts of town. The cafés disappear and the Kharma valley opens up. Down by the river, I find a quiet spot to sit and read. The water comes directly from the surrounding mountains and is so cold that I only manage to dip my feet in for a few seconds. After weeks of moving around India, doing absolutely nothing for a while feels surprisingly good. Looking back now, this really reminds me of places I’ve passed on the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal. On the way back, I stop at a café for Paneer Butter Masala. Further along, a construction site has been completely taken over by sleeping street dogs. Back in Old Manali, I follow Tariq’s recommendation for dinner and find a tiny momo stall across from the homestay. The dumplings are delicious, and afterwards I head to the temple and town square, where locals gather in the evening. Children are playing with a huge puppet, turning the otherwise quiet square into a surprisingly lively scene.
It’s here that I meet Vishaka, another female solo traveller and artist from southern India. She’s currently working remotely for her IT company employer (like so many other young Indians I meet during this and future trips). When I mention my plan to hike towards Bahang and Jogini Waterfall the following day, Vishaka spontaneously takes a day off and decides to join me.The waterfall is actually visible from my homestay, but reaching it means heading down into the valley, following the river and eventually climbing back up through a temple complex filled with pilgrims. The trail gives me another glimpse of the contrast that makes Manali so interesting. There are tourists and backpackers around, but also plenty of people who have come here for religious reasons. After a tough climb, we eventually reach Jogini Waterfall. A chai lady sits beside the path with her dog, happily serving cups of tea from her thermos to arriving hikers. Much needed to stay warm. The water spraying from the fall is absolutely freezing. This does not stop the Indian guys gathered around the falls from repeatedly posing underneath it with their best Shah Rukh Khan impression.
Vishaka decides to join them and takes a dip. I remain firmly on dry land. From the waterfall, we continue through the forest towards Vashisht. The trail is peaceful, with occasional views opening through the trees towards the valley below. We eventually stop at a small café before continuing into the village. Vashisht feels completely different again. At its centre stands the wooden Shri Vasishtha Temple, next to the famous hot springs. Indian pilgrims move between the temple and the bathing areas while international travellers wander through the narrow streets, many of them following the same well-established backpacker routes that have brought foreigners to Manali for decades. After some Pakora, I join the evening traffic back towards Old Manali in an auto-rickshaw. The ride is chaotic, loud and slow. Exactly what I’ve gotten used to here in India. Once back in Old Manali, we opt for dinner at a small café Vishaka knows and I enjoy a last Dhal Makhni. By now I’ve seen waterfalls, temples, rivers and enough traffic to last me a while. So on my final day, I slow things down even further.
I spend the day drifting between rooftop cafés and places selling avocado toast. It’s probably the most stereotypically Old Manali thing I could possibly do, but after the hikes of the previous days, I’m happy to embrace it. Later, I meet Vishaka and Cameroon (who stays at her hostel) for lunch at a local restaurant. We eat, chat and eventually say goodbye before I have to make my way back towards the bus stand. Once again the traffic is crazy. But my auto driver is clearly determined to get me there on time. He weaves through the traffic and keeps checking the clock, but eventually even his efforts aren’t enough. We get stuck. Perhaps feeling bad about the delay, he suddenly jumps out of the auto and disappears towards a roadside vendor. A moment later he returns with snacks for me. I’m still not sure whether this is an apology, compensation or simply another example of Indian hospitality. Either way, I accept the snacks. Eventually I make it to the bus stand. The sun has disappeared behind the mountains and the moon is beginning to rise over Manali as I wait for my bus to Delhi.
