Karin: We had a much better sleep last night - The Israelis were still as noisy as ever but we were far enough away from them for it not to disturb us too much.

This morning I had my first swim in the Ganges. It was really wonderful. The water is pretty cold as it is basically glacial melt from the high peaks. Fortunately I have been well primed for swimming in waters of this temperature through my antic with the  Serpentine swimming club in London and even glacial snow-melt isn’t  as bracing as the Serps in January! As you walk into the water the sand is kind of spongy and descends quite quickly into the turquoise water. The forested peaks soar up all around you. This really has to be the cream of outdoor swimming!

We’ve met the other couple, Claire and Martin, who are sharing the balcony with us. They are from Brighton and live in the 7 dials area where I used to live back in 1998 with Anthony. Martin had decided to rent a motorbike today and head off into the mountains so I plucked up the courage to do the same. It has been about 10 years since I last rode my Yamaha 535 in Japan so it was with trepidation that I clambered back into the saddle.

Karin on the motorbike

Dan: We figured that if we could hire a motorcycle and cruise up into the Himalayas, then maybe we could save some money, and do the trekking by ourselves - after all, how hard could it be? So Karin rang Triveni and said that I had an upset stomach, so could we delay the trekking for a few days (I was nominated to be the sick one as she made the call!). W figured we'd have a look around on the bike, and then make a call about the trekking when we got back.

Karin: To get to the main road and petrol station you have to cross the famous pedestrian footbridge that spans the river. This is always packed with throngs of Indian tourists and sadhus admiring the view and crossing from temple to temple. Negotiating this on the knackered old 125 that I had rented was quite a challenge! After several rather uncomfortable moments I did finally find my way over and after 30 mins of practice Dan hopped on the back and we headed for the hills. It was glorious to get away from the thronging hoards and climb up and up in to the foothills of the Himalayas. The views were breathtaking as the river curled languidly through the peaks, sometimes tumbling down rapids and skimming along the shallows. Even these Himalayan foothills are pretty impressive mountains by our standards. They are densely forested at this level with Tarzan-style liana’s dangling down onto the road, very much like those that you will find in the rain forests of the West Indies.

We passed a lot of monkeys, some leaner with pink faces and bright pink bottoms and others much chunkier with severe-looking black faces. They are always on the look out for a free meal so you have to guard any food items very carefully. There are also some beautiful and unusual birds. One particularly striking specimen which we saw swooping around the rocks by the river, has jet-black wings and a bright red body. Alongside the river there are a number of tented encampments where people on river rafting excursions stop to take a break. We made our way up and up to the nearest village which although only 10 km as the crow flies took us a good hour to reach. We soon realized that in this mountainous country travelling any distance is extremely hard work. As the Indian dusk began to close in, we decided to meander our way back down to the hotel.

On the way, we bumped into Martin and Claire who were heading back. Martin mentioned that the roads got very bad just after the next town.

Karin, Martin, and Claire on their motorbikes 

This morning, whilst swimming, I had seen an ashram on the other side of the river that seemed worthy of exploration, so we decided to take a detour and investigate. We headed down the steep driveway to see what we could see. After descending a flight of steps to a beach, we saw several monks praying and bathing, so, tentatively, we approached them. They ignored us completely. Feeling very much like intruders, we approached another slightly less scantily clad monk who did say a few words to us but who clearly spoke no English and did not seem enamoured to see us! We agreed to admit defeat and return to the bike as night was rapidly closing in. As we made our way back up the stairway we saw a man with a long beard standing above us. Thinking it was worth another go, we called up to him. He answered dryly that he couldn’t speak any English and then his face cracked up in a big smile. As it turned out we were talking to an Indian ‘Saint’ or Swami. When we mentioned that we might be looking for some advice about meditation, he beckoned us into a small veranda. Our saint was accompanied by another monk who seemed to understand English very well, but who, throughout our audience, didn’t look at us or talk to us at all. His attention was concentrated fixedly on the Swami. The Swami asked us a few questions about our interest in meditation as we were served Indian chai and ‘holy’ ganga water. It soon became clear that we were completely out of our depth and that this very special place was not exactly open to western part-time nirvana seekers! None the less, we were given some valuable guidance about how to proceed in the Hindu spiritual tradition and told that we were always welcome there.