Shimla sits in the clouds, and there’s a light but persistent fog in the air, although the temperature is still in the high 20s during the day. Departing Shimla means gradually climbing in altitude, and as we ascend towards the Kinnaur Valley region of Himachal Pradesh, landscape, climate, people and cultures begin to transform before our eyes. The clouds lift, and by the time we stop for lunch we have a clear, if distant view of Himalayan snow peaks from the roadside. We’re still within prosperous Shimla district, and the small towns (many of them winter ski resorts) still boast good roads and attract a steady stream of Indian tourists throughout the summer. Soon our road meets the roaring Sutlej River that flows from Tibet to the plains of the Punjab, and as the highway forges east to the China border, the winding route follows the river more and more closely. After seven hours of reasonably smooth, easy riding, we turn off the highway towards our overnight halt, Sarahan - a tiny village in a green valley surrounded by wooded slopes and apple orchards.
Our guesthouse costs $5 a night and looks out to the snowbound peaks of nearby Kinnaur. Just outside our room is a little terrace where we can sit in the mild open air and watch the villagers go about their business. On a sun-dappled afternoon, people are engaged in the simple pleasures of neighbourly interaction, a unifying social system lost to us by the privacy-obsessed, too-busy lifestyles of suburbia.
A roof is being built on a little farmhouse. A girl sings as she leads a caramel coloured gir cow to pasture. The voice of a woman echoes across the valley as she calls out to a neighbour.
Maybe due to the sudden change in climate, by dinnertime Ben is feeling unwell with flu symptoms, but by late next morning he feels well enough to continue the journey and check out the Bhimakali Temple, a beautiful wood and stone structure dating to the 12th century. This is one of the last predominantly Hindu villages on our route. As the road snakes towards the Tibetan border, the culture, religion and languages draw more and more influence from Tibet. Even in Sarahan there’s a small Buddhist gompa on a hillside.
Day three is another 120km of riding alongside the Sutlej and into the heart of the Lower Kinnaur Valley. The pretty greenery of Sarahan soon disappears from the Enfield’s rear view mirror, and we’re back on the highway and in the midst of one of the Himalayan region’s largest hydroelectricity projects. This once beautiful region has now been completely given over to ‘progress’, and combined with the dreadful roads, it’s an ugly, gruelling ride through an eroded, deforested landscape. The Sutlej is permanently scarred by enormous dams and gushing concrete pipes. There are more than half a dozen power plants along this stretch, including India’s largest. Trucks and endless construction work along with frequent landslides have completely murdered the roads and Ben has to get the bike through long dirt, gravel and wet sections. Its late afternoon by the time we make it to Reckong Peo, where we’re obliged to collect the Inner Line Permit that allows foreigners to travel close to sensitive border areas. After some asking around we find the office that arranges the permits is closed, and we have to come back the next morning. Still, there’s plenty of daylight to carry on to the picturesque village above Reckong Peo, Kalpa.
Here we’re so close to the mountains, you can ‘feel’ them. The air is the coolest and cleanest we’ve experienced since the Sandakphu trek in Darjeeling. The craggy, majestic Kinnaur Kailash Range, dominated by the sacred Kinner Kailash Peak (6050m) towers over us, dramatically close. The eight kilometre road to Kalpa is magic, winding through fragrant pine forest and groves of wild cannabis (a sight we’ve already become used to but never fail to be delighted by). From the balcony of our guesthouse we watch the brilliant white Kinner snow peaks change colour in the afternoon sunlight, and the slow shadows of evening climb over them until night.
The next morning we return to Reckong Peo, go through the extraordinarily labourious process of paperwork-filling and security-photo-taking to get our Inner Line Permit, then are on our way towards the sparsely populated Upper Kinnaur Valley, where the landscape changes in an instant to something unlike anything we’ve seen before.