Golf at Gulmarg and Goats

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Gulmarg

Gulmarg sits high in the mountains at an altitude of 2,650 metres, cradled among the peaks of the western Himalayas. The final section of the road from Srinagar wound up a torturous, steep 12-kilometre incline, each bend offered another breathtaking glimpse of the valley below, and another test of nerve for the driver.

We visited Gulmarg twice: once bathed in summer light, and once deep in the hush of winter snow.

Golf in Gulmarg

We set out with Irish friends for a day in the mountains with golf in mind. We were in the Volkswagen Kombi which had been used by the Royal Australian Air Force when they provided air support to the UN for four years until just before our arrival. The Australian observers now had access to this vehicle when they were not on field station. Kombis were not known for performing well on steep inclines, so we breathed a sigh of relief as it surmounted the last climb.

The golf at Gulmarg did not disappoint. At that altitude, the air is thin and sharp, and the backdrop of snow-dusted peaks entirely surreal. The Gulmarg Golf Club is one of the highest in the world.

Summer 1979 - Golf at Gulmarg

After a thoroughly pleasant day in the mountains, the voyage home had a few surprises in store. By the time we reached the outer suburbs of Srinagar, night had long since fallen. Then came that unmistakable sound, a sudden puncture brought the Kombi to a grinding halt.

 
Within minutes, we were surrounded by dozens of curious onlookers, materialising from the darkness with the particular enthusiasm that a stranded vehicle seems to inspire. Then came the discovery that the spare tyre was entirely useless. After much angst a local came to the rescue. He whisked my husband off into the night aboard one of the little three wheeler taxis, clutching the damaged tyre.

 
That left the rest of us sitting in the Kombi as the crowd pressed steadily closer. I am not entirely certain whose idea it was to arm ourselves with a golf club, but it proved a remarkably effective instrument for encouraging the onlookers to maintain a respectful distance. The sight of a golf club wielded with quiet determination, it seems, transcends all language barriers.

Our hero returned eventually, mended tyre in hand, face triumphant. After heartfelt thanks and the appropriate exchange of currency, and the tyre restored to vehicle, we made our way home through the sleeping city.

A winter visit – February 1980

Our second visit to Gulmarg came after the snows had fallen and the mountains had drawn their white blanket close. Where today's visitors find a modern ski field with all the polished trimmings of a resort, the winter of 1979–80 offered something altogether more modest.

February 1980 - The Gulmarg Chairlift

We had skied in Australia, but Gulmarg presented its own particular challenges. There were no downhill skis long enough for my husband's considerable height, and so he was issued with a pair of wooden cross-country skis. Watching him negotiate the slope on those with the focused expression of a man engaged in a silent, personal battle against both gravity and timber was entertaining, until my own inelegant spill on the slope.

Goats

No account of Kashmir would be complete without the goats. They were woven into the very fabric of life there, appearing on cliffsides at improbable angles, as though gravity were merely a suggestion. Their long spiral horns caught the light as they picked their extraordinary way across terrain that would defeat most sensible creatures.

The flocks were also accomplished masters of the road blockage. On more than one occasion, a river of goats would bring the UN jeeps to a standstill. Some goats here were apparently weighing up whether to leap from the nearest precipice, while others simply stared at the offending vehicle and its occupants with mild disdain.

A goat roadblock

The domesticated herd goats produced the ultra-fine, warm wool (pashmina) used to make luxurious shawls. Goat also known as mutton, formed the basis of many meat-based dishes. 

The goat, in Kashmir was mountain acrobat, wool merchant, and a hearty meal. 

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin

The Fish Market, Fear and Friendship

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

The Fish Market in Rawalpindi

The fish market in Rawalpindi was a unique experience. Surrounded by the strong smells and a cacophony of sounds we came upon those remarkable men seated on a platform with a large carved blade held between their toes. Each fish was taken in hand at the blade's tip and drawn downward in a single, practiced motion, filleted with a skill so precise and so swift that it was theatrical. We watched entranced by the motion. The fish arrived overnight from Karachi, on ice.

I have no photo of this memorable place but the best representation Gemini could make for me, provides some idea of the scene.  We remember the blades with more curve and the top end had a wooden piece which was held in the mouth to keep the blade steady.

Imagine this repeated over and over and let the smell of the market assault your senses.

AI generated image,
the blades had no wooden handle as opposed to the one shown here

Fear of Skylab

Skylab was the United States first manned space station, a science lab in orbit around the earth so astronauts could live and work there for weeks at a time. As its orbit dropped closer to earth, NASA knew it could only partly control where it landed on its return. By July 1979 the media frenzy stoked the fears of the people that this huge piece of space debris would cause devastation.

It was, after all, just a year since a Soviet spacecraft had scattered radioactive debris across the Canadian wilderness. 

The people in Kashmir were afraid. In Srinagar as the date of re-entry approached, shops were shut, bazaars deserted, shutters closed and the streets usually bustling with life were almost silent. The hush that settled over those familiar lanes was deeply eerie, the kind of silence that speaks louder than noise. 

Skylab, as it happened, descended to earth far away, scattered in pieces across the red dust of Western Australia. Kashmir breathed again.

As Artemis 2 currently ventures far above us, it seems timely to remember Skylab.

Friendships, food and fun

Amongst the cohort of military observers there were officers from Finland, Italy, Sweden, Denmark and Norway. Administrative staff brought yet further nationalities into the mix, and mealtimes could feel like a small tour of the world. 

With our Irish friends there was always the certainty of two different dishes of potatoes served with meals.

 
Kashmiri acquaintances offered quite different pleasures: Rogan josh, fragrant with spice, rich and deeply aromatic. The roti bread was a regular part of our diet. Loaf bread was available but heavy and laden with sugar.

 
The Finnish observers had constructed a sauna, and an invitation to experience it was not to be declined. The intensity of the heat was striking, as was the notable absence of clothing, a rather novel initiation for me. 

At the end of his posting, one of these Finnish friends left the mission in his big red Oldsmobile with wife, daughters and mother in law aboard. The 1979 Iranian revolution was just a few months old. They covered their windows with posters of the Ayatollah and drove home through Iran. 

Our Australian colleagues provided comfort and easy companionship in difficult times and we enjoyed a couple of barbecues alongside flowing streams.

Water damaged photo, 1979 Australian struggling with a barbecue

The PX store at Headquarters was a a place where families, friends and men returned from distant field stations could converge, exchange news, and simply be in one another's company for a while.

Frames

Before leaving the subcontinent, we had four pieces of delicate leaf-portrait art framed. A dark green background against gold painted frames preserved these pieces. Framing was both effective and wonderfully inexpensive.

Pen and ink portraits of a Pathan tribesman and woman were framed in black with a white border. These works hung on our walls in many places through the years. Time, as it does, had its way with them. Age brought discolouration; household moves brought breakages. They no longer grace any wall of ours, but the memory of them does, that memory has not yet shattered.

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin

Embroidery and an Elephant

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Embroidered goods

Among the many crafts displayed in bazaars of Kashmir, the beautiful embroidered shawls were a prized purchase made by many a tourist. The stitches used were deceptively simple, mainly satin stitch, stem stitch and chain stitch but the fine quality of the work, drew many an admirer.

One did not always need to seek out the merchants. They came to us. Keen-eyed and unhurried, they glided across Dal Lake in their shikaras whenever word reached them that a person was lingering on a houseboat, enjoying oneself, as one might politely describe it.

 

Carmel purchasing embroidered goods

In this photograph, a visiting merchant has drawn his shikara alongside to display his wares. It was here that I purchased a lovely white cape with pale blue embroidery, its tiny intricate stitches speaking of patient hours and practised hands. Several other shawls followed me home that season, and most have since found their way into other hands and other houses, which seems a fitting end for things made to be admired.

A shawl given to a sister

The embroidered suede coats, trimmed with fur were a particular favourite among visiting women. Mine served me faithfully for many years, and then, as the best-loved garments sometimes do, it passed to the next generation. In the late 1990s, our teenage daughter wore it in the cold winters of Paris. She assures me she still has it all these years later.

The embroidered coat many years later

Embroidered bags and cushion covers were also popular items, but again discarded after many years of use.

An Elephant in the Yard

In our apartment on the first floor in Sonwar, Srinagar, my husband woke me one morning with the calm announcement that there was an elephant in the yard. Given that we had spent a rather merry evening with friends the night before, I took this news with some skepticism. Elephants in the yard were not, as a rule, a feature of our mornings.

The apartment in Sonwar Bagh, Srinagar on the first floor.
This was the scene of the collapsed ceiling and of the elephant sighting.
(water damaged photo)

He was quite right, of course. There it stood, enormous, unhurried, entirely at ease in surroundings that were considerably less accustomed to it, than it appeared to be. The elephant had simply wandered away from its keeper. The keeper appeared later in the day enquiring whether by any chance an elephant had been sighted in the vicinity. 

It had indeed.

Not the elephant in our yard but our souvenir wooden hand painted elephants 

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin