After a day long treacherous – teeth clattering – nerve-wracking drive, we reached the small village of Tabo on NH22 in the evening. One look around the deserted national highway trying to shield my eyes from the sand being blown by strong winds (looked like a set of an old western movie) and I knew I was never going to see anything like this again.
The next morning when I woke up, I walked to the balcony that opened out to the NH to see if things had changed or for any signs of civilization and all I saw was a pole with a number written on it realizing it was a bus stop. I saw a lady standing under it all wrapped up waiting for the bus at 6:30 am. I stepped away took an hour-long coffee break and came back and there she was still standing. I asked around about the frequency of buses and was shocked – there was probably only one bus that did the loop back then from Kalpa to Kaza and back!
Such is the life in the high Himalayas and we in the big cities crib about commuting to work every day!