Day 109 - Stealth Trek

We knew that the mountains around Rishikesh were full of waterfalls. What none of us - nor the locals it seemed - knew exactly where said falls were located. We had vague generalities, some rough distances, but nothing concrete, and certainly no map. A group of us - Cz, English, German, American, plus a group of Isrealies and one more American - decided it would be a fine adventure to find the waterfalls and go for a swim. I remembered passing a sign for some falls on the way into town on the motorbikes yesterday, and that seemed as good a starting point as any.

We set out along the road leading away from the town. After a few kilometres I began to worry that maybe we had passed the sign way out of town, and that my distances were just skewed. But every local we asked waved us on, saying "this way, only a few hundred more metres". Finally, about 3 kilometres later, we reached the mythical sign, and my pride was safe.

According to the sign, the falls were only 1.5 Km into the jungle. There is something you need to know about "Indian Time" and "Indian Distance". In short, the stated time or stated distance is always, always less than the actual time or distance. To the point where IST (Indian Standard Time) is more often referred to as "Indian Stretchable Time. The same can be said of distances. The 1.5 Km to the falls was actually more like 3 or 5 Km straight up the side of a mountain. It was a very nice walk with loads of butterflies, streams, and lush plants, but quite a trek, and a trek for which we were entirely unprepared. We did make it to the falls eventually, after much grunting and sweating. There are few things more rewarding than a large pool of cold water at the top of a mountain.

Gluttons for punishment that we are, we decided to trek higher up on the plateau to see the source of the falls. No luck there, though we did pass through a spectacular landscape of high terraced rice paddies and soaring peaks. At times, we were actually walking along the edges of the paddy irrigation channels rather than any kind of established paths. The villagers were all very curious about the Gora (foreigners) who who had managed to find their way up into their enclave. Once again my pockets full of caramels guaranteed instant popularity.

Back in the relatively Western backpacker enclave of Rishikesh, we went out for dinner near the Ganges, where we were assaulted by a monkey. I ducked and covered my head. I think Cz did the same. The one guy who stood up and tried to shoo away the beast got bitch-slapped twice before the monkey gave up and ran off to the tin roof of the restaurant, where he started to jump up and down and peek down from the rafters, teeth bared. Before this trip I thought monkeys were rather cute, comical fellows. I now have a healthy respect (read slight phobia) of the mean, sharp-toothed bastards.