PANTAU VERONIQUE RENARD A view from abroad.: EXPEDITION TO BRAMAUR

Preparing the jeep for a big trip.
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In April 2005 my Japanese friend Hiroshi and I decided to go on a little trip in my jeep. For years I wondered what was right behind the peaks of the Dhauladar Mountain range, north of the village of Dharamsala, the hometown of the Dalai Lama. I could see the peaks from my little window every day, but what was right beyond those majestic 18,000 ft mountains? So I looked it up and learned there was a valley called Chamba and a small hamlet called Bramaur. Though only a few kilometers and minutes away the way the crow flies, by motorable road it would take a little more to get to Bramaur. The nearest pass was north-west of Dharamsala, near Dalhousie, a small hill town, about a five hour-drive away from Dharamsala. So Hiroshi and I took off and drove to Dalhousie at an altitude of about 10,000 ft. As there was no sound system in the jeep, we talked or sung songs. We stayed in Dalhousie for a few days before we descended into the Chamba Valley to pay a visit to the valley’s capital; Chamba Village. We continued by touring one of the worst roads I had ever encountered in the Himalayas. Weather changed and torrential rain caused landslides that would block the road. On our way to Bramaur we had to stop and wait for 6 hours total for rock and dirt moving vehicles to unblock the road at 4 different locations. We finally reached the vicinity of Bramaur in the evening. We noticed a lovely little village in the far distance, perched against the north side of the Dhauladar… and there was light.

'They have electricity!' I said delighted. I saw images of Hiroshi and I already sitting in the restaurant of a lovely guesthouse, eating wonderful Chamba-food after which we would have a wonderful hot shower and a good sleep in a warm bed.

Only minutes away from the village the main electricity cable broke, almost hitting the roof of the jeep, and all the village lights went out. There was no such thing as a guesthouse or restaurant in the village and we could only find one home with people. The entire village appeared to be deserted. We begged for food and drink, and though the people were hospitable they apologized, as they could only offer us some dry chapattis. There wasn’t even a bowl of rice. The gas cylinder that was attached to the stove was empty so they could only offer us a glass of cold water. They told us there were no rooms for rent in the village; however, we could park the jeep on the helicopter platform and sleep in the vehicle. Bramaur was so remote, they had their own helicopter platform. It was a trip to hell, but for some reason, those trips always result in lovely pictures and great memories. That night I had a dream. For your information; I considered Hiroshi a very beautiful young man, but I didn’t like it when he wore his glasses. I preferred him to use his contact lenses. The next day, when we had a little break atop a mountain pass, Hiroshi got up. He suffered from a lack of oxygen. He felt dizzy, stumbled and knocked his face against the fender of the jeep, smashing his glasses. He hadn’t hurt his face, there were no cuts or anything. just his glasses were into pieces. To be able to see something, he needed to put in his contact lenses.