Vojbasa

September 6: As is my habit, I am up at 5:00 this morning. I complete my morning prayers and head to the temple to observe the sunrise. By 6:10 I am sitting at the far end of the plaza. The morning’s rays are reflecting off the silver paint of the temple across from me. The morning rituals are beginning. There is a small gathering outside the temple doors. Bells are ringing, the priests are chanting the prayers, and incense is burning. What is my bell, what is my prayer, how do I live my life more fully as one?

Robert and Jojo are there as well. We silently acknowledge each other, joining the celebration in our hearts even though we lack the words. We join the procession, receive our blessing, make our donation, and begin the day.

Given what we have been through, and what awaits us, the hike from Gangotri to Vojbasa is mild. We begin by heading up the same stairs that lead to our rooms, climbing them slowly, acknowledging each we pass with Namaste or another honorific. At times the trail is as wide as a road. The weather is cold with a misting rain, which is unusual for this time of year. We move above the tree line, stopping for chi at a teahouse along the trail, and again for noodles at another teahouse just above Vojbasa. By 4:30 we are in camp; I notice that the latrines are the furthest they have been from the tents. Several of us go down to the Ganga together, though each of us interacts with the river on our own terms. I say a prayer, dip my fingers into the glacial waters, and extend a blessing.

By dinner I am not feeling well. I arrive at the mess tent with a Cipro in hand, and take it with dinner. I take a seat at the back end of the tent, as I usually do; it is warmer. Unfortunately, it also means that as the gas and cramps start to take hold, I need to work my way around the others to head out and to the latrine. By the time I get back to my tent, I am racked with chills and gasping for air. I unzip the outer flap, then the inner. Sitting down inside, I remove my boots, and leave them between the two flaps. I carefully place the zipper pulls where I can find them in the dark (they zip from both directions), a decision that will prove wise several more times over the next twelve hours.

It is, quite literally, freezing both outside and in as I shiver myself out of my clothes to add layers and crawl into my sleeping bag. I am sure that I sleep some between my runs (pardon the expression) to the latrine throughout the night. I know that I don’t rest. However, by morning I am feeling better. I go to the mess tent for an early breakfast of chi, toast, peanut butter and jelly, and another Cipro. The others join me a short time later for a more traditional Indian breakfast.

I am not 100%. I know that I could return to Gangotri; the others will be back tomorrow. However, I also know that I am able, and thus will, continue.