Once again, a wonderful morning. Or even better, since the view this far up was even better, towering snow mountains on 3 sides. And with the Swiss-style lodge + green meadow, the whole scene was lifted straight out of Heidi. Except for the rubbish. Nothing overly intrusive, no huge piles of rusting iron + rotting muck. But disturbing all the same – old cans, cartons, newspapers, bits of broken glass, scattered randomly down the hill close to the Lodge. Not all that much of it, but enough to make one wish it weren’t so, + particularly when it was the permanent inhabitants, a Nepalese/Tibetan family, that were polluting their own environment.
After some warming porridge, we set off to go to Yala, a small village a little further up the valley, + much higher up the mountainside. It was quite a stiff little walk, tho’ it wasn’t difficult to find the way. Yala itself was no more than a cluster of rude, low cottages, huddled together in a hollow high up, with 2 small peaks – not part of the main range – looking down on it. The village was totally deserted, had been for some while, but I believe it is only a seasonal migration. Val climbed a little way up Yala peak, one of the 2 grey watchers – I had no energy to tackle it myself – but she was soon back. The clouds were already starting to close in, swirling round the peak, then ever lower. So, before it became too cold, we headed back down.
We bought one of the Lodge’s very old cans of pineapple juice as a reward for ourselves – we’d had one on arrival yesterday, which had been delicious, but this one was decidedly dodgy. Afterwards, the weather down in the valley still warm, we headed out to the rock, + began a letter or 2. We were joined after a while by a Swiss guy who asked if we’d like to join him in a smoke. For sure. And out of politeness we offered our own small stock picked along the way, but he rather turned his nose up at that, so we smoked his. It was wicked stuff. I don’t enjoy getting stoned with people I don’t know (especially one like this – The Conceited Know-All Traveller), tho’ I’m not as bad as I used to be, trying to conceal being stoned at all. But concealment was out of the question on this case, being totally blasted, the difficult to swallow stage. So I giggled + shoved + joked + played, wearing one red glove, one blue one, + dancing my fingers.
When we got back, all I could think of was food. First it was our boiled sweets, one after another after another, then chip sandwiches. Then Swiss-o offered another joint + somehow it had gotten to be night – + I foolishly accepted. As did Val, except that it didn’t seem to destroy her. I staggered to bed, somehow got thro’ the elaborate process of doing up my bag without catching the zip in the lining, +, at long last, slept wonderfully.
A most splendid day, relaxed and pleasant – some dope, some food, some company.
