September 29, 2016

Hear that? Nothingness. See that? Nature in its purest form. We are so good at making things complicated. Don’t.

Today started out like most others I have had thus far in India: Up. Something is different however. The peaks are getting sharper, more protruding, with centuries old glaciers perched atop their craggy granite. When contrasted against that cloudless, indescribable blue sky, the views all around are emotionally paralyzing. I am in utter, stupefied awe of this place and I have to get off my bike and just…be.

Before I knew it, I had effortlessly spun my way to the top of Baralacha La, at 15,912 ft. My neck is still sore from owling my way the entire way to the top. I just made that term up as I simply cannot come up with a better descriptive of the motion of my head, continually spinning around in every direction, taking in these indescribable views. (Yes dad, I’m trying, but I just cannot. There is no description). It’s like being a kid, seeing the mountains and landscape, and opening a pop up book as the mountains explode out at you. Magical.

Somewhere along the way, I briefly passed through a small village, and apparently I picked up a new friend. I vaguely remember seeing her, sprawled out in the sun as I purchased water. I noticed her, but didn’t think much of her. She was forgettable at best. As I was left the village, I looked down and there she was. This cute mutt of a dog, trotting along next to me. I figured she would just chug along for a few hundred meters, hoping I would share some snacks, then head home. One kilometer goes by. Then another. Then another. Still by my side as we both ascend Baralacha La. It’s only 6km to the top, not much for me on a bike, but she is showing no signs of turning back or even tiring. She trots ahead, looks off over the exposed cliff, then quickly catches back on. Honestly, I’m hoping she turns back. She wouldn’t follow me all the way to the top? Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the summit of Baralacha La together. I don’t know how to say “GO HOME!” in Hindi and I don’t have the heart to scare her away so she’ll go home. We shared a moment at the top as we’re the only 2 there. It’s time to roll. She won’t follow me down…and if she does, surely she won’t be able to keep up and this issue will resolve itself naturally. She’ll get frustrated and turn back.

I started descending down the pass and began to put some distance in between us, but she was still there chasing me, relentlessly. The views as I descend are incredible. I wanted to stop, but didn’t want to encourage her. I got around a corner and took a couple snaps. By the time I put away my camera, there she was, looking up at me, wondering why I stopped.

Camera packed, and I’m rolling again, flowing through the switch backs, picking up speed. She is fading in the distance. I am a couple switch backs ahead. I look back and am confident that she had gotten discouraged and turned for home. She’s smarter than I am. I looked up, and she is shorting the switch backs and simply running down the jagged granite scree fields. In no time she is back by my side trotting along, looking up at me with those adoring brown eyes, tongue flapping out the side of her big, grinning mouth. All I can do is laugh.

In all seriousness, I know this has to end and I feel absolutely terrible. I know she is essentially a wild dog and she will likely be fine. Likely. Finally after playing this switch back game 3 or 4 more times, the road begins to straighten out and descend. I sadly watch in the distance as she fades, desperately, yet hopelessly in the distance. Yes, mom and dad, I know it has been nearly 3 years since I lost McKenna. Perhaps this is a sign. Maybe when I return home, it might be time. Maybe.

Look close…there she is