Indian Himalayas

From the overcrowded, dirty, polluted and noisy Delhi, things were finally going up into the mountains. Welcome Himalayas!! After a two-day bus and train journey, I arrived in the long-awaited Manali. A small village that radiates serenity, peace and hospitality and relieved me of the stress of the last week minute by minute.

However, since I've been traveling in temperatures of 28-40°C for two and a half months now, and had previously experienced Germany's more or less existent summer, the temperatures made me shiver a lot more than I'm used to. When the sun was visible it was surprisingly warm, but as soon as it disappeared the temperature dropped to around 3°C and at night to -7°C. The only thing that really kept me warm was, on the one hand, my winter clothes, which I bought in Delhi, and, on the other hand, my childlike excitement at the sight of the snow-covered mountains to the left and right of the valley in which the sweet village rested. Despite the tiredness of the two-day trip and the stress of the last week, I immediately rented a Royal Enfield Himalayan and spent the next 8 hours whizzing on the motorcycle over the endless, immaculate highways that connect the small mountain villages of the Indian Himalayas.

Despite the massive landslides caused by the monsoon rain in July, the highways are in a condition that would probably give any car-loving German a wet dream at night. Since I'm usually anything but a car or motorcycle fanatic, I was surprised at what an incredible feeling it was to rush through the valleys at 70-80km/h, while the Himalayan mountain ridges to the left and right of you through the cloud cover rose as if they would never end. Halfway through the route I took a break in a small village called Keylong, which was inhabited by Nepalese mountain people. The noodle soup warmed me up perfectly and strengthened me for the way back, which became damn cold due to the fading sun.

In the end I was so cold that I even thought that the cold was making me feel bad, but when I got back to the hostel I realized that it wasn't the cold, but my stomach, which hadn't been closed since Jaipur played along 100 percent. So it happened as it had to happen. I got my first food poisoning of the trip, although I have to say that 2½ months in Sri Lanka and India is actually a pretty damn good quota. Nevertheless, I asked myself why, in the first place I went where it gets -7°C at night, my body fluids that had warmed up to core body temperature had to sprout out like a fire hydrant. Despite the onion tactics with my winter clothes and what felt like a 500-pound blanket, I was freezing as if I was taking part in the race to the first arrival at the South Pole naked alongside the pioneer Roald Amundson.

Since the hostel had no toilet paper at that time and the water jets, which are so typical in India, were completely missing here, I had to ironically downgrade my book "Sapiens" to toilet paper and tear out the pages I had already read. Since I had just started the book, it was a race between the frequency with which I had to use the toilet and the speed at which I could read the fact-laden book in my condition. The next day I did nothing except sleep, watch a film for the first time and go to a natural thermal spring with others in the evening, which at around 45°C really warmed me up for the first time.

The atmosphere in the hostel was pretty good, which was probably also due to the fact that marijuana is traditionally grown in Himachal Padresh and Kashmir and for many families it is their only source of financial income, so almost everyone was stoned 24/7 and there was no hustle and bustle. Other drugs like acid, mushrooms and LSD were also so prominent that people got used to them very quickly. Since they are all drugs that tend to activate the parasympathetic nervous system and therefore have a calming effect, most of them weren't in the mood to go hiking, which is why I first went on a small mini-hike alone to find out how badly my body was affected by the gastrointestinal illness. Quite a strong response was shown to me by heavy breathing, weakness and excessive sweating. The nice thing, however, was that after just 10 minutes a dog followed me, after 15 minutes the next one and so on, so that in the end I was hiking with six dogs and when I lay down to doze at a viewpoint, the newly formed pack gathered around me lay around and took a nap myself. Since I was convinced that I would feel better the next day and I really wanted to go hiking again before I left, I decided to climb my first four-thousander the next day. Looking back, it wasn't the best idea...

My alarm went off at 5 a.m. and I set off, drowsy. 26km, 4,246hm and 13h. I didn't feel great at the beginning, but thoughtlessly put it down to the early time, which I wasn't used to. When my condition didn't improve after 2½ hours, I slowly admitted it to myself and told myself that I would just hike until I couldn't go anymore and then turn back. I started drinking down my water supply because no matter how much water I drank, my body kept telling me I was thirsty. Since several streams were marked on the map, I drank my 2L without hesitation. After I crossed the last supposed stream, which in reality was dry and I was still incredibly thirsty, I felt real concern for the first time, but my stubbornness drove me further towards the summit against all reason. The last three kilometers were only through snow, which was mostly knee-deep and there was no path to be seen anywhere. But you could already see the summit in the distance and my cell phone GPS told me that I was at least halfway on the way. Unfortunately, as I discovered, my new hiking boots are not waterproof either and so I walked the next 16km with wet feet.

And then I arrived. I wish I could say that I was able to enjoy the view at that moment, but on the one hand the 36% lower atmospheric pressure was more than enough for me, my throat felt like the Sahara and my stomach started doing the same thing at that moment to repeat two days. Although I had brought a lot of food with me, I hardly ate anything because just the thought of food made me sick. With all of these things and the knowledge that it took me 9 hours to climb, so it was now 2 p.m., the sun was setting at 6 p.m. and the brown bears in the pine forest would be active at the beginning of the hike, I headed back down the mountain as quickly as possible. Because even though the 64% atmospheric pressure made it difficult for me to think, I was still able to calculate that, to avoid being eaten as a bear's dinner, I could complete the route in less than half the time it would take I needed to get promoted. To combat my thirst, I started eating snow and filling up my empty bottles with it, even though I actually knew deep down that snow doesn't contain any electrolytes, that it's like distilled water and that after a certain amount the electrolyte shifts in the body begin and, in the long term, lead to death lead. Either it is the sodium imbalance that gives me cerebral edema, the potassium that kills me due to a cardiac arrhythmia, or the calcium that causes muscle cramps until my body fails. Knowing that I would hopefully be back in civilization by nightfall, I tried not to be too aware of the long-term consequences of consuming distilled water and to remain optimistic. The recurring situation, which repeated itself about every 30 minutes, that I had to further decimate my book "Sapiens" made the whole experience even less enjoyable than it already was and deprived me of even more electrolytes than was good. After rushing through the forest in the dark and seeing fresh-looking scratch marks on the pine trees with liquid resin still running out of them, I hurried downhill even faster and kissed the asphalt road when I finally reached it, just happy to have arrived alive.

It was a completely stupid action that I don't regret because I learned a lot, but I would never repeat it under these circumstances. And I forgot to mention that on the way up, all the mountain people I met from time to time told me that it was actually a two to three day route. When I arrived at the hostel, the hostel owner asked where I had hiked today and I told him, he also told me that he had never in his life heard of anyone who had completed this tour in one day and exactly like that felt the day too.

I slept a lot and for a long time and recovered with lots of tea, fresh toilet paper and a few rounds of Qatan with the other people from the hostel, although the exhaustion continues until now and it's probably also because I've been on the bus and train for 9 p.m. until now with diarrhea on the way to the Taj Mahal and the Indians have a different understanding of comfort in public transport than we Europeans. The bright spot for me is the phone call I planned with Eva this evening to play trivial persuit while we both drink a cocoa. Although I should probably resort to tea instead.

During this time I didn't experience much emotional development as I was mostly reduced to basic needs and instincts. Nevertheless, it became clear to me once again how much a person can actually achieve if, on the one hand, they are stubborn, but above all if there is even a hint of fear for their own existence. There is no other way to explain how my muscles were able to bring me back despite all the physical and psychological obstacles. Perhaps this description may seem exaggerated to some people, but for me the feelings and fears that day were more than real.