Travel Tips

Leaving our bikes behind, we traveled north by bus into the foothills of the Himalayas and a small town perched upon a ridge, McLeod Ganj, often called ‘Little Llasa’.

When the Chinese invaded Tibet, the 14th Dalai Lama fled across the Himalayas into exile and was granted asylum by India and given McLeod Ganj, which became his official residence and seat to the Tibetan Government in exile.

Arriving late in the day I set off on a hunt for accommodation and scored a beautiful, clean ensuite room. The door led out onto a terrace from where there were stunning views of forest sweeping down to the distant, hazy north Indian plains. Not bad for less than GBP4 a night.

The Dalai Lama’s presence at McLeod Ganj had inevitably turned it into a pilgrimage site, not only for Tibetans fleeing persecution in their homeland, but also for foreigners. Its packed with accommodation options, restaurants and coffee shops, bakeries, internet cafes and souvenir shops. I might have hated it had I been a purest. But I enjoy stuffing my face with chocolate cake and cappuccino as much as the next person, and the views just made it all taste even better.

A number of Westerners dressed as monks wandered the streets, too. Shaved heads, maroon cloaks and ‘Free Tibet’ bags over the shoulder. I noticed they were nearly all women. Is this because women are more enlightened than men? Or is there something about male Tibetan monks I don’t know about?

We visited the Dalai Lama’s residence, but when I enquired with the security if He was in, I was told He was on a two week holiday. Just my luck. I come all this way, I thought, to say hi to His Holiness, and He’s off sunning himself in Benidorm.

We took a walk out west to Dal Lake, a religious beauty spot, which was actually little more than a muddy pond. A walk out east another day past a nearby village was a pleasant stroll to a peaceful, trickling waterfall. It was good to get away from the sound and smell of the traffic.

In a restaurant bar I thought I would rekindle my taste buds with a few beers. I hadn’t enjoyed a drink in five months. Three bottles was all it took to give me a gigantum hangover the following morning. That’s the last time I meddle with Thunderbolt Lager.

It was a lovely four days, but we had to get back on the bikes. I was missing the cycling.