Mandi bus station in the early morning. A pause for an hour before the first bus leaves for Rewelsar. 
An odd place this, probably the most unpleasant of bus stand toilets I've ever had to squat in, an aspect of repetition, a central hub. 
22 hours after leaving the room in Mussoorie the bus pulls into Rewelsar, stepping into memory, familiarity.
It's a long story how I came to be here first time but when I left I hoped to return and here, fates whims on full display, I am.


Later a first circumnavigation of the lake accompanied by the thought that change of itself occurs, becoming more and more a favourite phrase as memories crumble when confronted by the present day. 
It's a beautiful place but two sleepless nights have dampened my energy, demanded restraint. Mind you after the climb to the guesthouse there's the knowledge that it's not an in and out abode. 


And then G&L arrived after traditionally complicated bus journeys and it's lovely to see them. Tomorrow the possibility of M. 


But I'm most taken by the memory of how much I loved this place and the gratitude that I've been able to return.