We're back in Manali for the last 3 days now. Unfortunately, not where we had hoped to be. The 4 day trekking excursion, to the remote hilltop tribal village of Malana, had to be aborted. A combination of altitude sickness, heat exhaustion and a developing gastro-intestinal problem put an end to any hope of reaching the 'valley of the Gods'. I felt like a real whimp having to tell our guide that I couldn't go on. Even at only 2800m, I had all the classic symthoms of altitude sickness; nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath, a dull pounding headache and worst of all, vomiting.

The previous day had started really well. After a good hearty breakfast of banana pancakes with honey, and toast with some Tibetian herbal tea, we were collected by jeep and brought to the rendez-vous point to meet our guide. Yogu, the trekking co-ordinator, had arranged for us to meet our guide at his home. We were introduced to his family; mother, father, wife, two sons and cow; given the best chai ever, served in their best china; and then given a royal tour of the rambling village dwelling. A really unique piece of architecture, composed of a central cowyard, with inner balcony, a large sitting room with woodburning stove and a series of interconnected rooms. It was only built by his father in 1978, but it looked much older, like the village houses in old Manali. Yogu then introduced us to Mohan, our guide, and we said our goodbyes and headed for the jeep, to be brought to the starting point to our 4 day adventure. There we meet with the other members of our group, the porters Sangar, Si-lu and Sangi. Three really fun loving MAD guys who just love to go trekking. Everything seemd perfect as we headed up higher into the mountains.

It wasn't until we made camp that the problems really begun. After having some light lunch, I joined Isa in our tent for an afternoon nap. Dinner wasn't for another 3 hrs and with the sun blaring down on us I thought that it would be a good idea to get a bit of shelter and save my energy for later. However, this was the first mistake. In an open field, the tent only seemd to offer some respite from the glare of the sun. Its thin dome creating the illusion of a quite shaded sanctuary. It wasn't until I was aroused two hours later that I realised the foolishness of my decision. Sweating profusely and already dehydrated, I stumbled out of the tent and tried to get my bearings. I was dizzy and found it hard to focus. Dinner was being served in the other tent across the field. Even though a little nauseous, I blindly made my way there and attempted to regain my composure. I ate more that I felt hungry for, and drank as much water as I could hold down. But I was already on the way to the worst night of sickness that I can remember. The rest of the evening and early morning were overshadowed by horrible nausea, breathing problems and ultimately vomiting.

However, I have to say, it wasn't an entirely awful experience. The way I was cared for, when I told my group that I had to turn back, was absolutely amazing. Not one person showed any ill will or contempt for this ridiculous Irishman, who had to come down the mountain less than half way up. The numerous people who were involved in getting me back down to our lodgings, only showed compassion and understanding. I was sick and it didn't matter about the hows or the whys. All they wanted for me was to be well again and to be able to enjoy my time in India. Yogu, even paid for a doctor to check me out and came to visit me every day at the hotel to make sure I was on the mend.

Tonight, we are eventually leaving Manali for Dharamsala, on an overnight bus. And tomorrow we'll wake up to the next part of our journey, hopefully not a gastronomical one!