Cave Temple of Lord Amarnath

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In the first few days of our trek we came through really remote areas and did not see many other people, and we did not see any other foreign tourists for the duration of the whole trek.
Since we carried all our supplies for the tour with us, we were totally independent from any food sources anyway, we could really enjoy the great outdoors without the need to make contact with „civilisation“. Ishmael took us on the route less travelled by and this made all the difference.

One day I saw some kind of hamlet or small village in the distance. The houses were made of wood and looked quite interesting. Since I am a builder, a bricklayer by trade, I am always interested in the architecture and building methods of other countries and people. So I suggested to Ishmael to go over there and pay them a visit.

“No, they´re bad people“ Ishmael said firmly
“we will stay away from them, let´s just hope, they don´t come to us.“
And then he proceeded to tell another one of his incredible stories.

Last season a large trekking group had put up their tents close to that village. At night some people came, slit the tents and stole some stuff while the hikers were sleeping. The organizer reported the incident, the Indian army searched that village of “bad people“, found some stuff belonging to the trekking group, rounded up all male inhabitants and beat them up to teach them not to steal.
Apparently they had learned their lesson, nobody bothered us.

After about a week we reached the main route of the Amarnath Yatra and from then on we saw a few more people, Indian pilgrims on their way to Amarnath Cave to see the ice lingam.

We reached a lake and put in a rest day there.
Some pilgrims were camping there too, but in 1992 the overall numbers of yatris to Amarnath were still small compared to later years, the record being 634,000 pilgrims in 2011.

A week of ardous trekking and no shower had led to me not being able to stand my own smell anymore. So after we had put up our tents by the lake I stripped down to my brief (I left it on in order to not offend anyone, not because I felt ashamed to be totally naked, I´m quite shameless), grabbed some cooking pot and went to the lake. On the other side, the mountain side, I could see glaciers feeding the lake, so I knew it was going to be cold. But I thought so what, just do it, so I dipped my pot into the lake to scoop some water and poured it straight over my head.
Nothing could have prepared me for the pain!
It was like if somebody had hit me with a hammer. My brain felt like shrinking to bits, but I kept pouring and putting soap on me and finally washing the soap off, in what felt like an eternity but was actually my shortest shower ever. Then I went back to my tent, rubbed myself vigorously with a towel, put some fresh underwear on and crawled into my sleepingbag to get warm again. I was very awake, very alive, felt nice and fresh and all around great and renewed after I had warmed up a bit, my most memorable shower ever.

When we reached Amarnath Cave there were not many people there, so we could talk to the priest, but actually in those days I was not really interested in Hinduism, I thought it to be a very materialistic religion where people have a whole pantheon of gods to pray to according to their needs.
I thought it to be a beggar´s religion.
Need money? Pray to Lakshmi! Need to pass an exam? Pray to Ganesha!
For every possible need there was a god or goddess to pray to and to sacrifice to, the good old I give you something but you also have to give me something. Only later during my travels I met Indians who explained to me that this kind of religous approach was meant for the simple people and while there were many manifestations of God, there was only one Brahman, so this kind of reconciled me with Indian polytheism.
So in those days the priest of Amarnath was just some guy wanting money in my book, and since the mantra of my tribe is “We don´t want anything, but we also don´t give anything!“ the priest was out of luck.

Ishmael on the other hand was much more respectful in his attitude to the priest. Though a Muslim he paid his respects to the shrine and gave some donation. In retrospect, with me now also knowing much more about the history, religions and philosophies of India, he was a shining example of how people should deal with those religous matters, in my not so humble opinion. Follow your own religion, if you think it helps you, but respect all other religions, and for sure don´t indulge in that mother of all oxymorons, Holy War.

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Ice Lingam at Amarnath Cave

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Inside the cave there was a stalagmite made of ice.
In case you´re one of those guys never able to tell the difference:

A stalagmite and a stalagtite,
let me shed some light,
a stalag-tit-e hangs tight,
and a stalagmite stands upright. 😎

Which is an especially good explanation in that case because the stalagmite standing upright, made of ice, was considered to be representing Shiva in the form of a lingam, a cock made of ice.
Excuse my French, but that´s basically what a lingam is, a symbol for the male sexual organ.

In German we have the suffix -ling, which basically transforms the word it is added to into a noun indicating a male person with the characteristics of that word . While it is used with quite a few words in German, showing the connection of the Indo-Germanic languages with Sanskrit (lingam is Sanskrit by the way), spontaneously I can think of only one word in English to show that this concept applies also to English: weakling! 😋

The Shivling, the lingam of Shiva, is of course a symbol of power and strength, and Amarnath Shrine is actually a very important pilgrimage site for Hindus, with hundreds of thousands of pilgrims visiting over the years.
It makes me particularly sad to learn, while freshing up my memory of Amarnath with the help of Google, that the Yatra, the pilgrimage, has repeatedly come under attack by Muslim extremists, claiming the lives of 49 people and injuring 145 in different incidents since 2000, despite heavy military presence.

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Terror attacks on Amarnath pilgrims between 2000 – 2017.

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Some days after Amarnath we reached our destination, the highway to Ladakh and it was time to say goodbye to Ishmael and the rest of the crew. Being the man he was, he did us a last favour and found us a truck driver to take us to Leh, negotiated the fare for us, and then it was Goodbye Kashmir, Hello Ladakh for Eve, Yannick and me and back to Srinagar for the Kashmiris.

We put our backpacks in the cargo hold on top of the driver´s cabin and settled down there comfortably as well, because nothing gives you a better view of those beautiful mountains while travelling than the top of a bus or a truck. As the truck pulled out of the truckstop, ready to tackle Zoji La, the pass between Kashmir and Ladakh, I waved one last Goodbye to Ishmael.

Who could have known at that moment, when he approached me in the streets of Delhi, which epic adventures would result from that fateful meeting?
Very pleased with myself and my instincts I leaned back on my backpack and enjoyed the gorgeous view while the truck started his ascent up the hairpin bends to Zoji La.
Little did I know that soon I would be in the cold hands of death, fighting for survival.

I have now combined all my Pakistan travel stories into one chapter, which can be found here.

For more adventurous stories check out my blog @likedeeler

For more inspiring stories and a group of inspiring and supportive people check out @ecotrain.