Bhagsu Waterfall

27^th May

Bhagsu waterfall

Making the most of the dryer weather before the monsoon sets in, the plan for this Saturday was Bhagsu Waterfall.  I headed out the school gate around 7:30am with a couple of farewells from the students, and the suggestion from Deki that I should be back before dark – to which I responded “yes, mum”, much to her amusement! I walked up the hill to Patiphur to catch the bus to Dharamsala and the sun was already unpleasantly hot.  I was glad to be heading for another 800-1000m of altitude. 

The bus arrived only a few minutes after I reached the bus stop, and the bus ride was not too uncomfortable.  I amused myself by trying to figure out the words written on the back of some of the seats, and was about to photograph an interesting spelling of what could have been “senior citizens” when the bus got more crowded and my view was impeded.  

Traffic hazards - on the Bhagsunag road

The usual traffic hazards were supplemented by the presence of an elephant (with mahout) ambling slowly up the road – I gathered from the reactions of others that I was not the only person who found this unusual.  I could not get a photo; I was too busy being a sardine in the bus.

At Dharamsala there was not a jeep in sight – well, not one headed for McLeod Ganj, and I chatted desultorily with a small group also waiting for a vehicle for McLeod Ganj when a tourista – a mini-bus type vehicle pulled up and started to disgorge its load.  A small horde of people started to run towards this vehicle and I followed the example of those I’d been chatting with and allowed my good manners, and waiting for others to go first, go by the wayside and attempted to maintain my relative position in relation to the vehicle door.  

Residential areas of McLeod Ganj

Once inside one of the men indicated I should go right down the back and attempt to perch my rear end on about 6 square inches of seat.  Another man decided he was too big to sit in the tiny space beside me and his place was taken by someone much slimmer.  The vehicle was too crowded to even start to get a head count. 

We reached McLeod Ganj after a few stops to drop or collect passengers and I headed for the village of Bhagsunag, which is about a half hour walk from McLeod Ganj main square (take your life into your hands with the crazy traffic).  I spot some public toilets – they are clean – wonderful!!  OK, they are squat and bucket flush but they are clean!  Small joys.  There is a charge but noone to collect. 

A sprinkling of fresh snow
on the higher peaks of the Dhualadhar range

I pass a “wine shop” and pause for a moment, in answer to my inquiry, they do have Bombay Sapphire -  at 3000 rupees for a big bottle.  Almost half the price I was quoted in Fatiphur but still too much.  Though later when I see some schweppes tonic in a shop, I was tempted…

 

Bhagsunag car park:  crazy

I make every effort to ignore the multitudes who were trying to solicit money for assorted goods or services I neither wanted nor needed.  No thank you, I don’t want to hear someone play their musical instruments, I want to walk before it gets too hot.  No thank you, I don’t want to buy tatty glittery jewellery, nor have my body temporarily tattooed (I think with Henna). 

Nor was I tempted by such delicacies as Maggi Chai Omelete – I did hope that these were three separate items – and eggeta roll – which I took to be an egg mayonnaise roll.  Maybe.  Any other identification suggestions would be welcome. 

Lovely views of the higher peaks of the Dhualadhar ranges popped into view from time to time - apparently having received a dusting of fresh snow in the previous day's storms.  There were also quite nice views looking back at parts of the McLeod Ganj residential sector, perched on the steep  hillside and abounding with prayer flags.

Bhagsunag: the path to the temple

The parking lot in Bhagsunag village was the usual chaos of such places with vehicles attempting to go every which way, and mostly not moving at all but horns in frequent use communicated that drivers did want to move.

As I approached Bhagsunath Temple, a Hindi temple, the street / path / lane was lined with many shops, most selling really tatty goods.  Vague flickerings of memories in relation to money lenders and temples, for some reason, popped into my mind.

I headed on towards the waterfall, past more stalls and shops,  and eventually got to the real path to the waterfall – a wide paved construction winding around and up the side of the valley.  The valley and the river are quite pretty, but it’s a very long time since this was a pristine environment.  There were a series of shops/cafes along the path, some more temporary than others, and a number below the paths as well, down beside what remains of the river as we approach the end of the dry (and the water is siphoned upstream to supply the villages).

The valley and path to Bhagsu waterfall

I tried to photograph a pretty bird, but it would not cooperate.

I get my first glimpse of the waterfall and try to resist the thought “only this much?”  Parts of the path are quite steep, so I take it slowly in the hot sun – it’s only another half hour from the village and I have plenty of time.  I just wanted to avoid the midday heat and the crowds.  I am mainly successful with both.

I sit by the bottom of the waterfall for a while – there is a sign strictly forbidding swimming.  It seems to be advisory only.

As I get up to go, intending to walk to the top of the waterfall to a lookout point, I am asked for yet more photos with assorted people – today is setting some sort of a record. 

Above the waterfall the water sits in shallow pools, fed by small cascades.  The water looks delightfully clear and clean and upstream a few young men are bathing.  I sit on a rock for a while and am delighted that my opinion of the water is confirmed by the presence of tadpoles.

small cascade

I adjourn to a nearby tarpaulin café and sit and enjoy the view and a chat with the young men there.  The owner of the café brings out some small cups of a hot beverage of some sort but I prefer to stick to water.  Sweet of him though. 

We discuss an alternate path back, which I can clearly see.  The description “short cut” should have sounded warning bells.  I started along it but decided it was too uneven, too narrow and too precipitous, so wimpishly turned around and retraced my steps on the better, main path.

One of the real shops had what appears to be pure cotton shirts, I go in and look.  I’m getting acclimatized to Indian prices, I deemed a pair of well made, good quality pull-on hemp trousers too expensive at 700 rupees.

Makeshift cafes at the waterfall

I continue and pause to look at the swimming pool – cleaner looking than those at Norbulinka but the clientele is entirely male.  I comment to a teenage girl next to me that they ought to have a pool exclusively for women to use – then we could swim appropriately attired for the activity – she gave me a wicked grin.

I decided I should visit the Hindi Bhagsunath Temple, so removed my shoes and socks and duly queued up to pay my respects to the assorted sacred objects and receive the blessing smudge on my forehead.  This  is the first Hindi temple I have visited, it appears to be quite significant to the Gurka unit that was / is stationed somewhere in the vicinity but the upkeep is a little lacking.

Bhagsunag from the waterfall

I’d planned to walk back to McLeod Ganj, and was glad of the decision – there was a traffic jam that was just not moving.  Possibly not helped by the reappearance of the elephant, making its way slowly and unconcernedly along the road, plucking the occasional succulent piece of vegetation from the banks.

I allowed myself to be tempted into another shop which seemed to have pure cotton shirts and overdresses and did buy one white cotton shirt.  I’m here for another 6 weeks and its not going to get any cooler and my t-shirts are wearing out quicker than anticipated.  The soles of my better shoes have already disintegrated and I don't think its even worth trying to get one of many cobblers who try to earn a living on McLeod Ganj's streets to mend them, there is also serious wear in the leather lining.  I am living in my $2 rubber thongs around the school.  Don't tell my podiatrist!

Stupa in Kalachakra Temple

A message from Sarah told me that she was at our agreed meeting place for lunch so I headed to join her, feeling peckish as my food intake for the morning was 3 bananas and a very decadent mars bar (the first one I had seen in nearly 6 weeks)

We were having lunch at Common Ground  a restaurant that serves Chinese, Tibetan, Indian and assorted other cuisine.  Sarah tells me my expressions, as I peruse the menu, tell a real story.  There are some very lovely sounding dishes on the menu,  especially to someone who has been on a fairly restricted diet for the best part of 6 weeks.  I choose green beans with black beans and shitake mushrooms  and a mug of white hot chocolate to go with it.  The rum spiked honey-lemon-ginger drink was also very tempting but in the middle of the day, when I've not had alcohol for as long as I hadn't seen a mars bar, probably not the best idea.

Kalachakra Temple

After a leisurely lunch, I left Sarah to wait for student  Kelnam to join her and went in search of the shop which the waitress  had said might be the source of the shitake mushrooms.  McLeod Ganj is rather a rabbit warren of streets and I backtracked several times.  I re-encountered the elephant -  and this time was harassed for some money for the privilege of  seeing such an auspicious animal – I resisted the invitation to touch, or sit on its knee, or whatever I was being invited to do, and continued my limited conversation with a Frenchman as we both tried to work out why we were being solicited for money.  I am guessing this poor animal is no longer a “working” animal as such and now is being paraded around where lots of tourists might contribute to its owners income.

I divert to visit the Kalachakra Temple, a Buddhist temple which houses a very large chorton, on a very busy street.  On the third floor, is a shrine with a lovely statue of Buddha, there is a peace about this place which the ever-present sounding of horns on the streets below cannot dispel.  Before I enter, I walk around the temple, turning the prayer wheels which are on all sides, thinking of those friends whose health is currently less than perfect.  I am shocked at some tourists making their way the wrong way around the temple - obviously my training in such matters from Bhutan is well ingrained.

 

Kalachakra Temple a gem amongst the chaos

I head back towards the transport back to Fatiphur, which is, of course, crowded, but at a total of 22 rupees for the journey, I really cannot complain.  Zokkar comes at around 7:30pm to tell me she is about to cook and ask if I want some dinner, but by then I have snacked on the peanuts and sultanas purchased earlier in the day and am not hungry.

just a gratuitous early morning picture of the
Dhualadhar range from near the school