The hair of the dog. The Himalayan version

Exactly a week ago I returned from a climbing trip in the Himalayas, tired, achey and (not to put too fine a point on it) water-retentive.

Ungainly big fat legs and toes, in other words.

I slept a lot, waddled around the house, slept some more, ate a lot…and then almost immediately started packing.

For a trip to the mountains.

As one does.

Himmat had originally intended to come up to Himachal fishing while I was climbing, but his plans fell through, and so here I am, a week after descending from the mountains, back in the mountains.

It really isn’t fair to deprive a man of his fishing trip, now, is it?

It’s lovely to be here, as ever, staying with our dear friends in Himachal – but it also feels a little odd to be here and NOT be yomping up and down the hills. I’m willing the weakness and tiredness to go, so I can head off on a few hikes.

Seems like a criminal waste of a good mountain, to sit all floofily, admiring the view but feeling too tired to head out and climb.

So I’m reading and sleeping a lot and soaking in the mountain views, which are gentler and greener than those on Gangotri 1.

I’m slowly getting my strength back from the mountains.

The fishing is good, I am told, so that’s just as well.

It is chilly, but the views are as stupendous as ever, and I’m being pampered and fussed over, as I snooze my days away, so yes – the hair of the dog definitely seems to be working.

PS – this is where we’re staying, at For a While, in the Phalachan Valley