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An interesting story with vague Fortean elements:
DEATH ON THE HIPPIE TRAIL
BY ARIEL SOPHIA BARDI
After spending the final weeks of summer camped in a stooped, square-mouthed Himalayan cave, Justin Shetler was tired. The 35-year-old American outdoorsman had walked away from a job at a tech startup three years earlier, blogging about his growing unease with a life defined by stale luxury and high-end hotels. Since “retiring,” as he put it, in 2013, Shetler had set off on a series of daring journeys, donning a bark loincloth to hunt alongside Indonesia’s Mentawai tribe and trekking in duct-taped flip-flops across Tibetan snow passes. Then he bought a Royal Enfield motorcycle and started for India’s famed mountains.
On his blog, Adventures of Justin, videos, podcasts, and photos chronicled his excursions, with Shetler’s long, sinewy frame posed artfully against spectacular backdrops: blurred, chalky stretches of shimmering desert; hulking green mountain ranges rippled with white snow. “I’m a nomad, adventurer, and ninja of sorts,” his Instagram bio read, “currently living in a cave in India.” The sporting tone of his prose drew a motley of envious followers on social media. “I am truly moved by your adventurous wild ninja story,” one commenter wrote.
Shetler’s final entry came this past August. “A Sadhu has invited me on a pilgrimage,” he posted.
Cold, weak, and underfed, Justin was steeling himself for one last adventure in Himachal Pradesh, a North Indian state popular with trekkers, hash-smokers, and spiritual seekers, before pushing on, by motorbike, to nearby Ladakh. The sadhu, or Hindu ascetic (known colloquially as a baba), had invited Shetler to follow him on a weeklong hike to the holy lake of Mantalai. “The trail is notorious and it’s landslide season,” he reported. “I should return mid-September or so. If I’m not back by then, don’t look for me,” Shetler added, signing off with an emoji wink.
I spent the fall meandering through the same region as Shetler, in the scenic valleys of Kullu and Parvati on the way from Ladakh, taking time to write up a few articles I had spent the summer researching. Known alternately as the “hash trail” or the “hummus trail” (with an overlapping demographic in mind), the mountain route is clogged with backpackers in high season. Summertime vibes are festive, even giddy. Thousands climb the hills for bacchanalian full-moon parties, where DJs with names like Space Buddha and Mountain Monk spin psychedelic trance music. Others, like Shetler, come to ape the lives of local sadhus—followers of the formidable, three-eyed god, Shiva—squatting in stone caves and tree hollows.
But the region is not just a hippie haven. Since 1998, more than 20 foreigners have gone missing from the hills, and most disappearances remain unsolved. Tourist traffic continues despite Parvati Valley’s ominous, Lonely Planet–christened nickname: the Valley of Death.
Continued:
http://roadsandkingdoms.com/2017/death-on-the-hippie-trail/
DEATH ON THE HIPPIE TRAIL
BY ARIEL SOPHIA BARDI
After spending the final weeks of summer camped in a stooped, square-mouthed Himalayan cave, Justin Shetler was tired. The 35-year-old American outdoorsman had walked away from a job at a tech startup three years earlier, blogging about his growing unease with a life defined by stale luxury and high-end hotels. Since “retiring,” as he put it, in 2013, Shetler had set off on a series of daring journeys, donning a bark loincloth to hunt alongside Indonesia’s Mentawai tribe and trekking in duct-taped flip-flops across Tibetan snow passes. Then he bought a Royal Enfield motorcycle and started for India’s famed mountains.
On his blog, Adventures of Justin, videos, podcasts, and photos chronicled his excursions, with Shetler’s long, sinewy frame posed artfully against spectacular backdrops: blurred, chalky stretches of shimmering desert; hulking green mountain ranges rippled with white snow. “I’m a nomad, adventurer, and ninja of sorts,” his Instagram bio read, “currently living in a cave in India.” The sporting tone of his prose drew a motley of envious followers on social media. “I am truly moved by your adventurous wild ninja story,” one commenter wrote.
Shetler’s final entry came this past August. “A Sadhu has invited me on a pilgrimage,” he posted.
Cold, weak, and underfed, Justin was steeling himself for one last adventure in Himachal Pradesh, a North Indian state popular with trekkers, hash-smokers, and spiritual seekers, before pushing on, by motorbike, to nearby Ladakh. The sadhu, or Hindu ascetic (known colloquially as a baba), had invited Shetler to follow him on a weeklong hike to the holy lake of Mantalai. “The trail is notorious and it’s landslide season,” he reported. “I should return mid-September or so. If I’m not back by then, don’t look for me,” Shetler added, signing off with an emoji wink.
I spent the fall meandering through the same region as Shetler, in the scenic valleys of Kullu and Parvati on the way from Ladakh, taking time to write up a few articles I had spent the summer researching. Known alternately as the “hash trail” or the “hummus trail” (with an overlapping demographic in mind), the mountain route is clogged with backpackers in high season. Summertime vibes are festive, even giddy. Thousands climb the hills for bacchanalian full-moon parties, where DJs with names like Space Buddha and Mountain Monk spin psychedelic trance music. Others, like Shetler, come to ape the lives of local sadhus—followers of the formidable, three-eyed god, Shiva—squatting in stone caves and tree hollows.
But the region is not just a hippie haven. Since 1998, more than 20 foreigners have gone missing from the hills, and most disappearances remain unsolved. Tourist traffic continues despite Parvati Valley’s ominous, Lonely Planet–christened nickname: the Valley of Death.
Continued:
http://roadsandkingdoms.com/2017/death-on-the-hippie-trail/
