Ok, so, by tomorrow I think I meant the next time I have access to a reliable Internet connection.

Now, I’m back in Delhi and have just that, although the connection resembles that of the United States circa the year 1997.

I’ll upload more pictures as soon as I find a connection that allows.

To catch you up after weeks and weeks of non-blogging, we had searched high and found ourselves low. Near a rumbling, raucous river the leaders of the group searching for lost Israeli Amichai Steinmetz, contemplate the next course of action…

Part III: The re-assent

Standing by the impassible river, shivering uncontrollably and staring at a small sliver of grey, drizzling sky, we slowly come to terms with the fact that we had to climb back up to Bunbuni.

This meant, a climb back up slippery trails that more closely resemble small mountain streams than usable passageways, hours spent shivering in the cold, re-crossing an actual icy stream and at least four more hours of hiking.

Originally optimistic, our moral had gone the way of the weather and our body temperatures.

A grumpy group, we started to make the climb. With a porter in front who seemed determined to make the trip back to Bunbuni in record time, we quickly became separated.

I became a part of a small group that waited for the rear guard to catch up, leaving us with a porter of our own and seven searchers. Again, the separation dented moral, but our situation began to improve with the climb and passage of time.

By the time we reached the summit of the hill, the sun had killed the clouds leaving a blue sky and breath taking views. Ahead of us were muddy but vibrant green meadows.

It was to be smooth sailing from there.

We stopped to enjoy some rolls and peanut butter among the crushingly large mountains that surrounded us. The size and starkness of the Himalayan peaks when coupled with the solemnity of the search combined to inspire some deep introspection.

Lucky for us, peanut butter and a couple of happy snaps bonded the group and improved our attitudes. For an hour it was smiles all around.

Approaching Bunbuni, the smiles turned again into wide mouthed disbelief. We were again assaulted by the beauty of the place as the clouds had lifted nearly completely.

The shacks in which we had earlier weathered the storm were immersed in a sea of green and buttressed by mountains of awesome splendor.

We reunited with the group, only to quickly separate again. But this time it was planned. Seven people would stay behind in Bunbuni to continue the search from there, while the rest of us would hike back down to Kalga.

Ilan stayed at Bunbuni, while I returned to Kalga.

The pace back down the mountain was break-neck, but after a few slips and slides everyone made it safely.

We reported to the Jewish house in town and were promised a briefing later in the night.

Part IV: The re-re-assent

That night, I reported to the meeting.

They were handing out assignments of varying difficulty and offered Daniel, a member of my original search party and I an easy hike to neighboring Tosh.

Foolishly, however after hearing that members of Steinmetz’s elite military unit would be headed to Kiraganga, our original destination, I decided to tag along on what would be a more-than-grueling sprint up the mountain.

After making the five-hour hike to Kiraganga in three, we climbed a muddy mountain to try and cover more ground between Kiraganaga and Bunbuni. This hike proved to be far less scenic than those of the previous days and also more taxing.

For every step up the mountain we seemed to slip half a step back, but eventually we made it to the top and were greeted by a green meadow reminiscent of the opening scenes of “The Sound of Music.”

I expected to see a singing nun around every bend.

After moving on from the enchanted green plateau, we spotted the group that had stayed in Bunbuni. We met them for snacks and gazed down at the river whose fury had stymied our first attempt to make it to Kiraganga.

The lion of a river had become nothing more than a kitten, easily passable, making the tales I told of an angry river look like the worst type of hyperbole.

After some snacks and peanut butter we searched a small valley, then headed back to our new home, Kiraganga.

Founded, it seems as a tourist trap, Kiraganga is nothing more than a series of traveler-catering guesthouses and restaurants situated just below a natural hot spring.

Butressed by craggy peaks, Kiriganga raises like a multi-colored hippy traveler’s dream from the green fields of a Himalayan meadow. Tarp covered buildings give way to a temple at the top of the hill surrounding the holy hot springs.

Trekkers, travelers and locals are all welcome to bathe in the sulfur-smelling waters of the springs. After hours of hiking in canvas vans with a messenger bag, I certainly took full advantage of the hot and smelly waters.

Kiriganga would be our home for four more days of searching, during which we would find no sign of Steinmetz. After 7 bee stings, countless bumps, scrapes and bruises, and loads of blisters my good friend Ilan and I would join a group returning to Manali.

For more information on the continuing search for Steinmetz visit 4amichai.org.