The Art of GoPro

The story behind GoPro is inspiring to me. After finding himself out of a job, Nick Woodman took five months off to surf in Australia and Indonesia. During his sabbatical he realized the challenge to capture good action footage while surfing. Thus he set out to solve his need and began to design what eventually evolved into the GoPro.

The GoPro has been good fun on my journey. I started out with the helmet cam. Good for the getting my viewpoint of the landscape while keeping the camera steady as I ride the bumpy Indian roads. After seeing German backpackers using an extendable arm on a Sri Lankan train, I quickly added one to my accessory collection for the moments off the bike. 

One of the best parts of having a GoPro are the looks I get when people are trying to figure out what is on my helmet or when I stand with an extended pole in front of me. Puzzled and intrigued, inevitably the question comes "Is that a camera?"

Getting the placement just right is key to good footage. 

Selfies with 360 degree mountain top views. 

06.23.14

Rohtang Pass, Himachal Pradesh, India

9:15am

Land of Bounty

Sometimes you just have to let pictures speak for themselves. 

It is what you think it is. It grows alongside the roads, wild and plentiful just as the weeds do at home. We couldn't believe our eyes. 

06.22.14

Manali, Himachal Pradesh, India

6:51pm

Something New, Something Blue

When I embark on an adventure there are some hopes. I hope to be surprised. I hope to meet interesting people. I hope to learn new things. Crossing over into the Kullu region I am met by all three. 

As you crest Jalori Pass (3,135m/ 10,281ft), the canopy of trees open up to a plateau of lush green pastures. I have just spent the last 3 hours climbing to what looks like a perfectly manicured golf course. But to me, the surprise is the richly hued wild blue irises greeting me. They sway in the mountain top breeze as if waving hello to my arrival. "Why hello gorgeous, you were worth the climb." Only in bloom for two weeks of the year, we have timed our introduction perfectly.

Next stop on the itinerary is "Christopher's Place." An avid fly-fisherman, Christopher greets us with a cigarette in one hand and a tumbler of whiskey in the other. He is the whitest Indian I have ever met. It turns out his mother was Irish. He joins us for dinner and fills our ears with tales of living and angling in the Tirthan Valley. Riveted by his story-telling, it is the latest I have gone to bed when I excuse myself at 10pm. 

Having decended into the valley, the temperatures are searing hot again. The crystal blue Tirthan river across the street from Christopher's house is the first inviting water since McLeod Ganj. I look at it longingly, assessing the effort required to dip my toes. "It is glacier-fed" warns Christopher. "Ok be careful in the afternoons" I say to myself remembering lessons learned in the Baspa Valley. "The warmer the air, the colder the river." Another fun fact learned. 

You never know what you will encounter on the road. Three men were running in the middle of the road. One carry his god on his back. "What are they doing?" I ask. "They are from the mountains" with a strug of the shoulders is the reply. 

Tirthan river. Just riding along side you can feel the cool of the glacial water.  

Fishing trophies make up the dining room decor at Christopher's house. 

Selfie with Christopher. 

06.20.14

Nagini, Tirthan Valley, India

8:43am

06.21.14

Naggar, Himachal Pradesh, India

5:57pm

The Head Wobble

The head wobble is a curious phenomenon to Westerns. My favorite scene in "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" is of Judi Dench getting lost in the maze of alley ways that make up Indian cities. She asks a man for the correct direction to her destination and his response is a head wobble with a "yes." Confused, she replies "Is it yes or no?" To which the man gives the same response, a head wobble and a "yes." 

We know it will be a long day leaving the Baspa Valley. Setting off as the rays of sun begin to peek over the mountain tops, we race down the valley in hopes of making the 6:30am-7:00am traffic window for the detour. As we get to the entry point, the hand of the crossing guard goes up. I glance at the clock on the dashboard, it is 7:15am. Just 50 meters ahead, the Himachal Pradesh regional bus is rambling up the mountain side kicking up dust in its wake as it turns the corner of the first switchback. Just missed it. 

Manish steps out of the front car and I ask out the window of the second vehicle "Did we miss it?". He wobbles his head. "Oh good we get to go" is my immediate thought. And then I remember my favorite scene. "Your head wobble means that we have missed it" I say to Manish. He smiles. 

But all is not lost. Within minutes the crossing guard determines that there is enough time for us to make it over the pass in the alloted time. We take off in chase of the bus up the mountain side. 

06.18.14

Karchum, Himachal Pradesh, India

8:51am

A quick stop for a blessing on the way down the valley. 

Posted crossing times. 

The only thing that stops traffic completely is a herd of sheep and goats passing. 

 

Check out this no-joke collar. It is to protect the dog from leopards. 

Learning to Herd

We have come to the Baspa Valley to both enjoy the grandeur of the mountains and begin to acclimate to higher altitude. We are camping at 2,700m (8,856ft), nearly the height of my hike to Triund in the Dhauladhars just two weeks before. We have climbed out of the lower valley and above the haze of heat raising from the plains. The air is cool and crisp, the sky bright blue. 

As we have come to the end of the world, the road stops. We ride as far as we can, then change shoes and hike to 3,500m (11,483ft). Looking down at the last Indian border outpost, nestled between the Baspa river and the mountain side, and up at the ridge of snow-capped mountains towards the Indo-Tibet border, we are giddy in the moment. 

Downhills in the Himalayas are a test of skill and endurance. They are long and not for the faint-of-heart. Washboard roads, fallen rock, steep edges, blind corners and towering trucks spewing black exhaust are givens. As morning turns to afternoon, the warmth of the day turn streams into rivers and a once easy crossing can turn tricky. But in the challenge comes delight. Smiles from those working to maintain the roads, thumbs up from passing motorcyclists and the splendor that each new corner reveals create an exhilarating ride. 

Then there are the herdsmen and their flock. Sheep, goats, cattle all make up the mix of what you can encounter. They graze their way up and down the mountains under the watchful eye of their canine companions, while the human call to keep moving echoes off the lush hillsides. On the roads, they are another given. 

At first I do as the cars, stop in my tracks, turn off my engine. I watch and admire the local traffic. Then I observe Simon and Denise seamlessly enter and weave their way through the sea of animals. I decide to follow. "Oh. Ah. Em." The herd does not part for me the way they have for my cohorts. I am stuck in the middle. "Aaa what do I do?" I shout to the two smiling cyclists who easily navigated to the other side. "Say "Come on" in your deepest voice" replies Simon. Finding the back of my throat and holding my stomach tight, I manage a meagerly deep "Come on." I get a glance from a cow in front on me. "Ok some resonance" I think. So I keep trying to find that deep guttural voice and one by one the sea begins to part and I make my way through. A new skill to add to the cycling repertoire! 

06.16.14

Rarang Glacier, Baspa Valley, India

10:24am

End of the world, Indo-Tibet border. 

Slate-roofed temples dot the landscape. 

Kinnauri women in Chitkul. 

Hiking to 3,900m (11,483ft). 

Changing of the guard at Nagasthi, the last border outpost. 

Riding home down the Valley. 

 

 

Practicing my newly acquired herding skills. 

End of the World

Going to the end of the world sounded intriguing, adventuresome and exciting. I had to do it. But what is the end of the world? To Indians, it is the Baspa Valley and the Indo-Tibet border. Once named "the most beautiful Valley in the World", we have alloted 2 full days of our itinerary to this lush valley of snow-capped mountains in the Kinnaur region. 

It is not easy getting to the end of the world. There has been a landslide on the road that leads to the valley with another crack about to break. We must detour over the breaking hillside by car. Thankfully the Indian Army has initiated a one-way traffic pattern in 3 hour increments to allow for smoother journeys along the narrow strip of road unintended for the heavy traffic flow of buses, trucks, tourist vehicles and local cars. We get up early and ride as far as we can up the Satluj Valley before jumping in the cars. It is our first look at the scale of the "hills" and what it is like to ride a bike on the edge of sheer mountain faces.

The landslide makes front page news. 

Cycling up the Satluj Valley. Our ride started alongside the mighty Satluj river and we quickly climb to escape the heat raising from the plains.

You never know what is around the corner. Unlike my previous cycling trip, I can actually appreciate the blaring of the car horn. 

The line of cars is a good sign that we won't have to wait too long.

I work on making new friends while we wait. I remark at how good his English is and ask where did he learn it. "From TV. English is easy, there is no grammar." "Um O-KAY" I think to myself as I am reminded of my students in McLeod Ganj. 

Our bikes making their way up and over the pass. 

Words of encouragement along the road.

Behind the far set of buildings is the landslide and the crack above it. 

The beauty of Baspa Valley and it's glacier-fed river is revealed. 

 

06.15.14

Rampur, Himachal Pradesh, India

6:47am