For all this, what is the mountain god like?

A line from Du Fu which seems to have lodged itself in my brain as I slept. 
Standing and watching L,G & M head off through the caffeinated haze, climbing to the temple or at least the cave temple. More coffee, breakfast and then the bus appeals more, it's steps rather than paths and the knee would not be happy. 
At the bus Robert, just down from Vashisht, the recommendation of a guest house. Did you meet J there? A nod. Same place I'm heading to, one of those curious meetings. 
From the Nanda Devi temple, layers of peaks are reduced by the changing wind and influx of smog to blue spectres haunting the unseen horizons. 
Walking the road back down flute and drum echoing across fields of wheat and rice paddies laden with prayer flags, waiting for the rain above shrivelled lakes.
Onwards through woodland tranquility, the healing power of the mountains palpable here in these hardscrabble hills where conifers rise and scars of scree mark the paths of recent landslides.
Meanwhile, down below, Rewelsar continues to exist in the spaces between the widening paths of the main caravan routes, just far enough out of the way to remain as place of pilgrimage, a magnet for believers and the faithless alike 
 
And a thought that times change, that somewhere along the road there's been a shift from restlessness and relentless curiosity towards the contemplative. The road remains as it always does but the way changes and, on days like this, the journey continues apace from a place lacking motion or momentum. But still we travel. 

One day, at the summit, all the other peaks will be small enough to hold in the palm of one hand.