Travelling solo in India
My First Time Travelling Alone as a Woman Was a Series of Initiations That Changed Me Forever
Alone in the Indian Himalayas; a “peace” gathering and the home of the Dalai Lama
When I first set out for big adventures abroad at the age of eighteen, the thought of ever travelling solo in unfamiliar places and cultures was a scary one. Little did I know that just a couple of years later I would find myself alone in India.
My partner had decided to head back to England earlier than expected and I was left with a choice between trying to change my flight and return with him or continuing my journey alone.
England didn’t appeal at all. It was mid-April; I had just completed my second year of university in record time and wanted to make the most of my time abroad, before spending the summer working. But neither did the thought of being alone, taking local transport on treacherous roads with no one there by my side, and managing the day-to-day activities of finding accommodation and food felt overwhelming.
In the long run, I knew which one had to win — the scariest option of the two. And, as many people know, facing fears is a powerful means to greater things.
What I experienced over the following couple of months changed me forever.
The freaky first journey
We had parted ways in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas. We were staying at a place called Rewalsar Lake. It was a beautiful, lotus-shaped lake, worshipped by Hindus, Sikhs, and Buddhists alike. I had been recovering from bronchitis and the peace and clean air were exactly what I needed.
However, the spot itself was close to a junction where travellers would change buses, on route for other adventures. This felt quite symbolic for us and our intentions; he would be heading in one direction and I in another.
But where was I going to go?
The first stop on my solo journey
While we had been in Delhi, we had met some people who had told us about a Rainbow Gathering taking place near the town of Manali.
I had heard about Rainbow Gatherings but never been to one. It was a “why the heck not” kind of a moment.
In case you don’t know what a Rainbow Gathering is, I will let Wikipedia explain:
“Rainbow Gatherings are temporary, loosely knit communities of people, who congregate in remote forests around the world for one or more weeks at a time[1] with the stated intention of living a shared ideology[2] of peace, harmony, freedom, and respect.[3] In the original invitation, spread throughout the United States in 1971, the “Rainbow Family Tribe” referred to themselves as “brothers & sisters, children of God”, “Families of life on Earth”, “Friends of Nature & of all People” and “Children of Humankind”. — Source
In short: camping, communal cooking on a fire, acoustic instruments and songs around the campfire, workshops, homemade saunas, and plenty of fun.
Yep, I was up for it. But first, I had to get myself up the Kulu valley to Manali — on a six-hour-long bus trip along a road destroyed in parts by the monsoon rains.
Was I freaked out? Too right I was!
That first bus trip was the first initiation
I made it in one piece and survived my first bus trip as a lone traveller. It was a local bus, not a tourist one, with benches so thinly cushioned that my butt was barely protected from impact after bouncing into the air every time we hit a pothole.
After a night in a hotel, I continued on my journey. This time I had to take a bus for an hour or so back down the valley, but on the opposite side. When I disembarked at the stop I had been told to get off at, I saw a couple of people who looked like they must also be looking for the gathering. Fortunately, one actually knew where he was going, for there was no way we would have found our way without someone who knew the route.
We climbed the up mountain, higher and higher, before levelling off and continuing through a forest and across streams. After around two hours, we arrived at a clearing and saw tents, fire, and people. There was chai made to greet us and I was shown to a big communal tent where I could lay down my mat and sleeping bag. That became my home for the next ten days or so.
Onward to see more of north India
The Rainbow Gathering was my second initiation.
I now had friends and planned to meet them in McLeod Ganj, the small town above Dharamsala, where the Dalai Lama’s residence-in-exile is. But, I was now a fully-initiated, lone female traveller, and I was addicted.
Travelling back to Manali felt like the beginning of the real adventure.
Across the river from Manali are some hot springs where the public can go and bathe in purpose-built pools. My first evening was spent at these hot springs, followed by a delicious meal of palak paneer with naan bread, in a small restaurant overlooking the Beas river.
After roughing it out in a tent in a forest, high up a mountainside, these springs, this restaurant meal, and a proper bed were exactly what my body needed. The next day, I would be back on the buses and seeking a place to shack up for a few weeks to spend the remainder of my time in India.
Onwards to the home of the Dalai Lama
When I reached McLeod Ganj, I was advised to keep going, up the mountainside, to stay in one of the villages there. There was Bagsunath, which was still a fairly busy hub, and then, above that, was Dharamkot. That was where I wanted to go.
From the main hub of Dharamkot village, I started walking along a path to look for a place to stay. I guess I didn’t take the best path for, before I knew it, I was walking right away from most of the houses and up and up the mountainside.
By the time I stopped walking, I could see the snowline in the distance. It was now early May, and the beginning of summertime in that part of India.
I found a place renting cheap rooms. They spoke no English but the deal was pretty clear: no bed, no heating except for an open fireplace in each room with no chimney (I had to source my own firewood), and evening meals for fifteen rupees if I wanted.
No bed — fine, I could put my sleeping mat down again. I was used to it by now. The lack of heating wasn’t such a problem for my room was directly above the cowshed; the cows provided ample heat, which would rise through the clay floor. It was surprisingly warm at night for somewhere so high in the Himalayas.
I tried cooking on my open fire, but it was so smoky that I gave up. Besides, the homemade meals cooked by the family were simple yet delicious.
After a week of experiencing the joys of this remote mountain home, I decided I needed to be nearer to more people and life, and moved down the centre of the village of Dharamkot. There I found the sweetest room with roses growing up the wall outside.
There was a chai shop close by, where people would always be gathered, especially in the mornings, and it was close enough to walk or take an auto-rickshaw into McCleod Ganj and enjoy the Tibetan community and events there. As someone who was deeply fascinated by the Tibetan culture and religion, it was wonderful to be around the people and their devotion to their leader.
I attended an audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama at his temple, although I could barely even see him because of the many, many people trying to get close to him. Still, the experience was worth every moment spent queueing to get in.
I soon met my neighbour — a British girl who was renting the even prettier room next door to me. Her name was Ella. She was eighteen years old and on her gap year between school and university. We quickly became fast friends and explored the area together.
After two weeks, she had to head back to Delhi to catch her flight, and I took over her room for the remainder of my time. But, before she left, she gave me her phone number for her home in Totnes, Devon, telling me I should come and visit. I had visited Totnes when I was fourteen, as well as some of the surrounding area, and knew it was beautiful, so I promised I would visit.
Friends for life?
During the last few weeks that I spent in Dharamkot, I made incredible friends whom I stayed in touch and reconnected with over the years that followed. I also met a tabla player, who inspired me to pursue lessons in tabla on my next visit to India. That resulted in two months spent in Varanasi, learning from the most revered tabla teacher of the time, the late Chhote Lal Mishra, whom you can see in the 1978 video below, twenty years younger than when I met him.
As for meeting Ella again, the following year I paid a visit to Totnes and ended up spending a week with Ella’s family, lapping up the beauty of summertime in Devon. Ella later inherited a little Austin Mini that I’d had a helping hand in decorating, which you will know about if you read the story.
I later came to live in Devon, near Totnes, and I am still here seventeen years later. Neither Ella nor her sister still lived here, but her mother did until around seven years ago when she moved closer to her daughters. Sadly, I hadn’t really stayed in touch with them since then. However, one day, last December, I was walking the dog in the woods near my home when I saw Ella walking toward me with her partner and her one-year-old baby on her back. She had come back to live at her family home for some months while they bought a property. It was their first day back in Devon.
That was one beautiful moment of synchronicity. A reminder of the many that I experienced while travelling solo.
Travelling alone was a frightening step to take back then at the mere age of twenty, but it was the best decision I could have made. It pushed me to face fears and made me believe in myself as an individual.
In the end, the rewards vastly outweighed the fears. With no one to hide behind, I came out of my shell. I actively reached out to people rather than staying in my safe zone and I strived for experiences way more than I would have done with someone else to simply hang out, drink chai, and read books with.
I connected with others in ways that I would have been far too shy to do. And I made friends for life.
In the end, the rewards vastly outweighed the fears.
It made me self-reliant and very independent. It could be argued that it helped me to become a little too independent, but that’s a discussion for another day!
Thanks for reading. Here’s another of my travel stories, but closer to home:
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