Hike to Shri Gunna Devi Mandir – another “mad dogs and Englishmen” day

Shri Gunna Devi Manir with the Dhualadhars in the background
and the requisite makeshift cafe in the foreground

3^rd June

Shri Gunna Devi Mandir is a Hindi temple reached by hiking from the village of Naddi, above McLeod Ganj.  I had decided to make that my weekend excursion.

It was a good choice, as hikes go it was the most attractive of the hikes I have done.  Not crowded, nice forest, lovely views, peaceful, and great views of those mountains that are my current back yard – the Dhualadhors -not as close as from Triund Hill, but then there was no cloud, so today there was a view of the peaks, albeit a bit hazy which gave them a somewhat surreal appearance at times!

Of course you'd overtake
when a bus is coming towards you on your side of the road

Just the first of many photos of my favourite mountains

I had intended being on the road early, but got diverted by a few emails and then by Tsultrim announcing that breakfast was ready – an unusual occurrence for 7:30am on a Saturday.  So, it was closer to 8am when I left the school, and already hot as I walked the 20 minutes up the hill to catch the Dharamsala bus.

Before I left, I was a little amused at our new school captain, Tashi.  While I questioned to myself his selection, he is a very intelligent young man and as I told the students my plans, he advised me about the regularity of the busses and advised me to be careful! 

another gratuitous picture of the Dhaladhaurs

I panicked momentarily when the bus did not go to the bus station at Dharamsala but continued up the hill.  After a few conversations, of which I understood nothing, my query “McLeod Ganj?” to the driver elicited the response “sit!”  Trusting him, I did so, assuming that the bus was continuing up to McLeod Ganj, but it was just taking a detour.  When we stopped at the bus station the driver indicated another bus bay, so I headed over, waited a while (I was told 5 minutes…) then got onto the bus and sat for a another while before it left.  So it took more than an hour to get to McLeod, then I negotiated a tuk-tuk to Naddi. 

Apart from the fact that it set off in what I would have thought was the wrong direction and then proceeded to overtake in the face of an oncoming bus (which required much whistle blowing and gesticulating on behalf of a traffic policeman), it was an uneventful trip.

Arriving at what I presumed to be Naddi, the driver confirmed we were there and pointed towards a side road that I should walk down to find my desired route.  Given that it was a paved road, I was a little surprised that he did not take me down, but presumably the run is to the centre of Naddi and that is that!  10am – so much for avoiding much of the heat of the day.

Another part of my favourite mountain range

As I headed down, I confirmed my destination with a couple of car drivers in a hotel car park, and they sent me back to head off down another road.  Confirming again with some shopkeepers, they redirected me as the tuk-tuk driver had done, and a stall keeper on the main road noted my to-ing and fro-ing and inquired about my destination.  He confirmed I was on the right road, and asked if I wanted a guide.  My reading about the walk suggested this was unnecessary, but as always, finding the beginning of the walk was the challenge.

The lovely river valley below

I attempted to confirm my route with some Sikhs who were surveying, but not only did they speak little English, they were outsiders and had no idea of the way to the temple.

A couple of construction workers further on were able to confirm I was on the right route, so I continued along the road, as it wound its way gently down and in and out of the little side valleys.  Soon I was away from the buildings and initially in semi-open area with some terracing and other evidence of occasional cultivation and then in forest – alternatively pine, mixed or rhodedendron.  The road became rougher and eventually the presence of a large road construction vehicle marked the end of the road-in-progress and the beginning of the footpath.  The path continued through the forest for a while before coming out into more open area, winding its way in and out of the valleys, and up and down – including across a couple of requisite landslip areas.  This is, after all, the Himalayan foothills!

The bridge

Not only was it a very pretty walk, it was delightfully uncrowded.  Once I left the construction area, I encountered only a lady driving a couple of cows and a couple young women in their beautiful saris walking towards me.  This is over a period of about half an hour.  The peace and solitude in this forested area were delightful!  The sounds only of the river below and the birds above.

It became evident that the path was descending to the river valley far below me – a river that I had been able to hear for some time, despite its not being very large.  As I came closer to the river crossing, the unusual plethora of blue tarpaulin roofs from makeshift cafés appeared, and a very pretty small waterfall, with a most inviting pool at its base came into view.  

Their invitation to swim WAS tempting

There was a group of 3 teenage boys swimming and they called to me to come and join them – simply not an option.  I had only the clothes I was wearing and in rural India, I would need to be covered much as I was for walking to swim.

I paused to photograph, not only the boys and the gorgeous swimming hole, but also a lady washing her clothes in the river – not an uncommon sight, but she was beating them into cleanliness with what appeared to be a wooden paddle.  I couldn’t help but speculate on the effect of this action on their longevity.  I can only assume that washing is not very frequent.

Beating the washing with a wooden paddle

There are many carpets laid out beside the river, and I assume that perhaps the local residents have been doing their pre-monsoon spring clean, but my return journey identifies these are for the benefit of patrons of the cafés who are bathing in the river. 

I am bemused by one carpet, a little away from the others, with a rather decrepit plastic table and chairs.  Waterside dining!  Eating one’s maggi in style!

I inquire about the way to the temple, once again and am pointed to a path that appears to go through the middle of one of these makeshift cafés rather than the obvious one that goes to the village. 

This is the point at which gaining an overall 400m of altitude from Naddi after a descent to the river becomes challenging.  Many steps to reach the ridge – but the view from there is lovely!  It would be even better if India did not have so much air pollution.

River side dining rural India style

The path goes through the temple gate and continues for almost another hour, again winding around the valleys and up and down.  Unfortunately, much of it is more open and despite a little extra altitude, there is only an occasional breeze which hints at cool. I start to encounter more walkers – those who have made their pilgrimage to this sacred Hindi site. 

I am approaching 2 hours of walking (my target was 2 hours – if I had not reached the temple then, I was turning around) and I pass under a tree branch that has some bells – a sure sign that I am getting closer.  Some approaching European walkers confirm I have only 5-10 minutes walk to go and the view is well worth it, so I continue, despite feeling very hot and rather tired. 

Looking back down at the river valley after climbing the ridge

A telltale hint of blue tarpaulin appears through the trees, and the temple complex comes into view.  I pause at the first makeshift café to enjoy a hint of shade and tell the proprietor I will come back for a cold drink on my return. 

While the temple complex is large, and entered through a very decorative gate, most of it is space for people to sleep or picnic.  I walk out on a terrace to admire the view and an elderly gentleman indicates I should come another way – I assume that I am going around the central shrine the wrong way and comply, and remove my shoes where he indicated I should.  I first admire the view, then peep into the small shrine.  The man passes me to enter the shrine and indicates I should come in.  

The gate to Gunna Devi temple

I make what I hope are culturally suitable obieances and am rewarded with the orange dot in the centre of my forehead and a piece of what I assume to be the equivalent of communion bread – a soft and oily pancake like substance – and a splash of holy water in my hand.  I make a show of drinking some of this and splashing the rest over my forehead and head, hoping this is the correct thing to do.

A man on the second story of the adjacent building calls to me to come there – I assume there is more temple but when I get there, he and his friends are having a picnic, having evidently slept there the night.  I thank them for their invitation to join them and share their large pot of curry but decline and ascertaining that I have seen all there is to see, return to the tarpaulin café to consume a masala lemon drink, excavated from a tub of water, which is colder than the water bottles in my backpack. 

Posing Nicely!

While I am drinking this and chatting on and off with the proprietor, his pre-teen son strips to his shorts and proceeds to bathe, in the usual fashion, using a jug of water filled from the tub nearby, applying a good soapy lather in the process.  I am a little envious of the cooling experience of his actions, but restrict myself to washing my hands in the same way!

My return journey seems quicker – probably because I know the landmarks and where I am going, but it is past midday and once again, with the sun even higher in the sky removing what little shade there was earlier on the open parts of the path, I am reminded of mad dogs and Englishmen….  I am wearing my sunhat, pale beige in colour, and a white cotton cheesecloth shirt, and can only think how more uncomfortable I would be if these were of a darker hue. 

A requisite landslip across the path

Once more, I pause at the river, there are many more people here now, some paddling, some bathing.  I resist the temptation to indulge in another cold drink and sit at the waterside table (which is in full sun) as I am aware of a need to get back to McLeod Ganj and go to the security office to get my pass to attend the Dalai Lama teachings the following week.  The office closes at 6, so I really have plenty of time, and Sarah has said by text message that she only had to wait about 15 minutes earlier in the day, but I don’t want to take any risks.

As I approach the section where the path becomes a road in progress, I am startled by a couple of loud explosions.  There are a couple of men ahead of me, sitting waiting and a group on the bank above me, who indicate I should wait.  I did not actually think there were other options!  After a few more explosions, I ask the group “OK now?” and am told “one more” but another of the group says it’s OK and the men ahead are moving, so I proceed.  It is work on blasting the rocks to extend the road. 

Bells indicate the temple is close

I pass more groups along the road, some quite communicative, others just giving me a quick “namaste”.  One man decides to practice his (very limited) English, and starts by greeting me with “very well thank you”.  I am amused.  This is followed by a shower of relatively random words from which I picked at random for a response before continuing on my way.

Back at Naddi I look for a tuk-tuk.  A helpful stallholder tells me the only one in sight is booked, that there are no buses or jeeps so I will need to take a taxi.  200 rupees.  Can’t be bothered arguing about that and its only 50% more than a tuk-tuk and 100% more comfortable.  

The entrance to Sri Gunna Devi Mandir

We set off and proceed in the usual hair raising fashion among the other vehicular traffic, cows and people, but actually back up at one stage to give way to an oncoming bus.  Around a kilometer from McLeod Ganj we encounter a traffic jam.  At least the drivers turn off their engines and we are on the section of road that passes through a pine forest.  After 10-15 minutes, I ask how far away we actually are, and the driver suggests 500m.  

The only motion has been the occasional moving forward a single car space.  I renegotiate the fare for getting out at that spot – down to 150 rupees – and hop out and start to walk.  Murphy’s law, the traffic starts to move, and its more than 500 meters.  However, I pass the taxi when the traffic stops again and am at the main square in good time to find the security office and get my pass in an office that is absolutely sweltering.

My favourite mountains from Sri Gunna Devi Mandir

A bit of vegetable shopping, a visit to the bottleshop – having decided that a dry 6½ weeks is long enough – to buy a bottle of local cider and I head back to find a jeep to Dharamsala.  I am directed to one but baulk at getting in, someone had trodden in something very unpleasant and the men who are already sitting in the back evacuate rapidly.  The driver takes the vehicle down to clean it out and in due course I ascertain that being encapsulated in it for half an hour will be no more intolerable than usual and get in.  Miracle of miracles, we leave with only 4 of us in the back, but soon stop for 3 more.  Sardines again.

Roadworks in progress - including dynamiting

The Fatiphur bus comes by soon after our arrival in Dharamsala and it’s almost a comfortable trip back but very hot when I arrive.  I wander down to buy some paneer to go with my vegetables – there may be no students at the school tonight – then back to the school to decided whether to tackle dinner preparation first or a “shower” first.  Big decisions. 

The night is uncomfortably hot and at 2am I get up and think I might go and sit outside on the bench for a while, but Lungrig has moved his bed to there, so I go back to bed, adjust the fan and take a couple of Ibuprofen to relieve my aching muscles.  And turn off my alarm.  Sleep at last!