Red riding bridge

All night, little droplets blink upon the tent and when we are up, the skies are orange. At a distance there is a blue glow, but it is raining. We ride with the rain. I go as quickly as I can stopping only occasionally for a snap or two. The rim on one of the cycles collapses after having been subjected to intense heat from constant application of brakes. In the absence of mud-guards we are dotted with mud as we race down. The first three of us get our photos taken and once again there is the welcome drink. I fill my bottle with it. For me, this trip isn't about achievement and I am sad when it ends.

We decide to make time to go for rafting. It is quite exhilarating sitting by the prow, shivering in the cold water splashing all over us. I am glad for the chance to row, otherwise my fingers and toes might have become numb from the cold. It was most fun, bouncing up and down against the roaring stream, hitting rocks, trying (in vain) to row with all our heart and see if we can catch up with the raft before us... and finally wringing the t-shirt once we land on the shore. The noodles and hot coffee that follow are absolutely delicious.

The evening hasn't arrived and we have a day and a half remaining so three of us decide to go to Manali which is a popular hill station. It is raining and cold when we arrive. The bus that takes us is crowded and I am acutely aware of not having had a proper bath despite all the rigours of the last few days. When we arrive, it is cold and raining. The streets are filled with far too many people. far too many newly married folk being their newly married selves!

We treat ourselves to a delicious dinner before hitting the bed.