May 10, 11 1985: Pony Trekking in Kashmir: Lidderwat (continued)

 Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon 

 

10^th May

We set off walking and sometimes on the ponies. The rain had eased off and the scenery was absolutely incredible. We walked for about two hours and when we got there, a place with no name, the tents were already pitched.

With the snow capped mountains and rushing stream, it was lovely. It rained again in the afternoon after we were served omelette and chips, but the tent with fly sheet and ground sheet was quite adequate.

11^th May

We walked and rode towards Kolahai, crossing the snow line. Kolahoi Peak was the highest mountain in Kashmir with a peak elevation of 17,799 feet. Obviously we had no intention of going to the top!

But, as was typical here, they did not tell us what was happening and suddenly we were walking into the snow, with the ponies behind us along with my rucksack and shades which I would certainly need to avoid snow blindness at that height. “Ponies wait for us to come back,” said Ali, “they not like snow.”

So we stopped a little way past some empty huts. Ali and Martin, the Canadian guy that had joined us, were to walk on to see the glacier. We would go back. Fine with us.

The air was so thin that even cigarettes went out when one stopped puffing on them.

They returned after two hours. Martin was almost blind. The snow had become too deep and dangerous for them to continue. Ali should have known that. We are not mountaineers, we are not equipped for that. This was supposed to be a pony trek.

So we returned to our camp, which we are told was called Lidderwatt, such a beautiful tranquil spot. Ali told us tales of who died here last year. Two fell off ponies crossing the river and one whilst rafting.

At some point we met an old chap that asked if we had any aspirins because his wife had toothache and he was on his way to walk to Pahalgam to buy some. He was barefooted. I had some in my bag and gave them to him. He gave me a small piece of nice black hash. Hash is no good for toothache.

On the way down, we stopped at a small shack. There was a smiling woman there with what may have been her daughter. She invited us to drink some chai. It was pink milky and salty, just what we needed. The girl was fascinated with Lesley and her hair.

 

As we moved along a track with low branches handing down that I had to duck under, my pony fell behind the others. As they disappeared behind some trees on bend, my pony panicked and started moving faster than it ever had before with me on its back. But as soon as it caught sight of the others, it slowed down again.