When we reached Tso Moriri, it felt eerily
quiet and desolate. There were no tourists, no locals. We wondered if our bus
tickets had got us to the right place after all. And then we heard a feeble
sound at a distance, a group of children were playing cricket on the banks of
the lake. We started walking towards them. There they were, engrossed in their
game, each wearing just a thin sweater on top of a cotton shirt and drainpipe
pants. And here i was loaded with god knows how many clothes one on another.
It was still very early in the season and
it appeared that the camp was not yet set up at Tso Moriri. We drove for seven
long hours from Leh through a dry brown road. The Indus had given us company
for most of the way, snaking along the road like a shiny green ribbon. But I couldn’t
bear the thought of driving back to Leh now that we were already here. It was a
journey of 250 kilometres back. That apart, this place obviously deserved more
than just a fleeting visit.
Tso Moriri is at an altitude of more than
15000 feet, and the only word to describe it is stunning. Surrounded by
snow-capped mountains, the lake stretches on for more 28 kilometres and its
broadest span is almost eight kilometres. I stood on the shore and watching the
water change colour with the sun every minute. From a pale grey, to suddenly
shifting to a deep cobalt blue and then aquamarine. Shades I had only heard of
were playing themselves out in front of my eyes!
Suddenly, there is some bustle behind us,
as some trucks pull up with tents and supplies. It turned out that the camp –
the only one allowed here – was about to open in a couple of days. I sent our
driver, to negotiate and soon we had a deal. They pitched one tent for us and
got the kitchen going. This was a good thing, since breakfast was long
forgotten and it was already way past lunchtime.
We went for a stroll while lunch was
getting ready. High altitude makes it tough to even breathe deep or walk steady.
Some portions of the lake were still frozen, although the native Brahmni ducked
to make his way placidly through the water.
By early evening, it got so cold that I
began to question our decision to stay on. But at dusk, the snow peaks gleamed
golden, whilst catching the last rays of the sun. The lake was perfectly still,
reflecting the thick white clouds like tiny fluffy pillows and candyfloss. The
silence seemed absolute as I sipped on my hot chai. And I think I could get
used to this after all.
My random spontaneous bus tickets had never
gotten me to a place more beautiful and serene than this ever!!
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