OK - now Mughal Road is done - I am in Shopian and no one has shot at me…no heavily armed Army patrol has frisked me and pointed menacing weapons at me…no one has even looked at me!


It’s a bit disappointing in a weird way!


So what to do  - now that I am officially in the vale of Kashmir? What amazing sites am I gonna see?


I asked around and Googled a bit - and found that the local sights to see are the meadows of Yusmarg

​I wanted to leap into action immediately - but it was raining. Bah!

It was a lovely ride to Yusmarg - green everywhere, and the air was fresh and crisp from all that rain.
I was quite stunned at the size and scale of the place! It was a huge meadow, fringed with a lot of trees and forest land. Surrounded with serene Himalayan ranges and meadows of pine and fir, it is one of those destinations people dream about.
Yusmarg has a fascinating story too!


Some people say that the name ‘Yus’ refers to ‘Isa’ - that is - Jesus! Yes - that Jesus! The carpenter. Demi god. The ‘Get thee behind me Satan’ fellow.


There has been a theory going around for some time that Jesus survived his crucification and presumably said ‘I am too old for this shit’ and decided to retire from the prophet life and retire in India and live the good life in green Kashmir after a lifetime of deserts and hot weather in Judea and Golgotha.


J&K tourism is trying to develop this place - they have a bunch J&K tourism bungalows to stay in, they have a few private hotels and restaurants and dhabas and so on. These meadows are apparently best explored on horseback - and so the place is full of horse-rental people and they strolled up when they saw me.
Then when they saw me a little better, they seemed to veer off and saunter away, whistling casually - perhaps fearing for the health of their horses if I got on them - their spines might crack in two!


Not all of them, of course. The ones with strong horses came over and tried to get me to hire - but I was not having any of it.  I too felt for the horse - poor thing - and apart from that had bad memories of being thrown off by a horse in New Zealand. That was not because he objected to my weight - but because the poor fellow got an electric shock from an electrified fence and reared up in fright. (Check out the story in ‘The Man Who Washed His Passport and other stories)


So I refused the horse - but agreed to take a small trek around the place with a guide. That turned out to be a brilliant idea - the guide was thankfully taciturn, and the trekking route was quiet and deserted, as all the tourists were on the riding paths. The route was very pretty - all green and foresty (is that a word?) and fresh and fragrant from the mornings rain.
We trekked a long loop through the forest to a little river where picnickers were frolicking in the water, and climbed down over trees and stones to get to the river side, where I sat and chilled for a bit and enjoyed the scenery.
I had a lovely walk back - the woods were indeed lovely dark and deep - but while I had no promises to keep, there were miles to go before I sleep!


I had a refreshing tea at the tourist hotel, and rode back to Shopian