Not very far from Skardu lies a stony tumble-weed jeep track. If you follow it, it’ll take you up and up. Up and up you'll go beyond the clouds. Passing lush green valleys; their hills sliced into geometric terraces bustling with dusty corn cobs. As you climb higher the valleys give way to alpine scrub. Then the temperature starts to drop. Alpine scrub gives way to tawny weeds; skinny little things that hug the rockscape like babies hugging their mothers. The landscape more unforgiving as you get higher - the wind harsher - the rocks darker and moulded into acute angles. Suddenly at the top, you find stretching endlessly before you, an immense plateau. Welcome to the Deosai Plains – at + 4,000 metres above sea level this constitutes the world’s 2nd highest plateau, 2nd only to Tibet. The plains support the endangered Snow leopard, Indian wolf, Himalayan Ibex and the Golden Marmot. It’s a harsh landscape but also sublime. The air is fresh, the sunlight is clean and clear like sparkling water and in the background you can see the lofty snowy peaks of the world’s highest mountains.
Never was bleakness so beautiful. Never was emptiness so bountiful. I felt my spirit spirited away on these plains; it being no longer tethered to my body. It wandered across the steppes with my thoughts in tow- dragging them along with it. My thoughts, so restless these days, resisted the invitation, but eventually seduced they gave in to the nagging spirit.
Such landscapes; barren and lonely as they are; with their harsh lines, strong colours and endless panorama’s – are like being given a lemony tonic. They make you realise that there is no stopping the human spirit. That it has no boundaries and it takes these landscapes to realise it. Perhaps the steppes serve as a kind of metaphor or visual representation of the boundless spirit incarnate? Here - Now - You realise how minor some things are. Like love for example. Love has no meaning here. No definition. Love may reign supreme on ‘normal’ terrain – but here, love is a small, mediocre emotion – too selfish and self-interested to deserve room in such majestic sweeping landscapes. Instead, here the hollow that love leaves is filled with grander emotions. By grander I mean more altruistic, selfless, and more universally encompassing emotions like ‘the nature of mankind’s quest’, ‘the meaning of life’, and the ‘cosmic imperative’.
Cosmic imperative?
Mankind’s quest?
What the devil am I talking about? What is happening to me? Such metaphysical language; wishy-washy and obtuse don’t suit me! Oh, by the way did I neglect to mention that I am writing this in a high-altitude low-oxygen environment? You see the O2 levels at 4,000 metres are low thus leading to euphoric, ecstatic emotional swings – or in layman terms a feeling of being high. Oh, I’m ‘high’ alright – both literally and metaphorically! Such places push the brain down weird little-frequented mind alleys:-
Here’s some for my eventual ignominious shame:
1) When I get back down to the city I’m going to walk up to the first single, pretty girl I see, look her in the eyes, tell her how beautiful she is, and then clear off before she calls the cops. Or her brothers.
2) When I get back to the city I’m going to grab the first beggar I see. Hug him tightly. Plant a huge kiss on his (filthy) forehead and give him 1,000 rupees and then walk off before he realises what just happened. Then I’m going to walk into the nearest hospital and get some boosters for Cholera just in case.
3) When I get back to the city I’m going to phone the girl I love, tell her how I feel about her, tell her how much I love her, and then hang-up. Oh, but I don’t have her number? Mmm…slight problem there. Aha! Well maybe she’s reading this in which case I’ll just tell her here:
'Yo babes. I love you, you know. Did you know that I take you with me wherever I go? Honest. I tell no lies. Death to me right now, right here if I do. Slice me In half/cut me to kebabs/make me into an omelette/for I tell no lies. You’re always in my breast pocket. Always. I’ve dragged you with me everywhere. To all the countries I’ve been. Through all the airports. I’m never lonely cos you’re always in my breast-pocket. If I don’t have a breast pocket I just sit you on my shoulders. Or if things get a little hairy I put you in my trouser pockets. Not the back pockets cos then I might squash you when I sit or when the road goes bumpkety-bump (as it so often does).
I do wish though, that now and again, you’d climb out of my breast-pocket, or get off my shoulders, or sneak out my front pockets and give this poor, hopeless, fool, a little kiss. Just a small one. You have no idea how happy it would make him. Especially up here in the Deosai Plains where breathing can be so hard. And every breath so precious. But I’ll keep some breaths for you – just in case you need them. Don’t worry. You won’t run out of breaths here:'
I’ve still got plenty left in me.
Here in the Deosai Plains.
Playing on the grassy steppe.
Where the mind hovers.
And wanders
Kinda pointlessly.
And no worldly trouble
Dare touch me
Cos I am free
Here in the Deosai Plains
I am free
Finally.
