Ohm Sweet Ohm Rishikesh Friday 27 January

Just a snippet over 1/3 of the way through and I've hit stride again today, first meditating on a ledge above the foothills village of Neelkanth, then later in yoga and meditation classes on the roof of Omkaeananda Dioeshwar Mander ashram, five stories above the east bank of the Ganga, just across the footbridge from our hotel.

Neelkanth Village is a 45 minute white knuckled lurch up a dirt road just wide enough for one and one-half jeeps. Someone's painted white swatches on protruding rocks on the in-your-face up-hill side, whilst the downside cliff plunges 100 and more feet down the other side. We postulate you wouldn't drive in India if your horn's broke - here on the pretzel twist switch backs they're just as important as in Delhi's school-of-fish traffic crush. Announcing "here I am," the horn's played more than not.

Every couple of hundred feet, there's a wash-out, or fresh concrete attempting to rebuild last month's washout, which require the bus to creep inch by inch across crumbly pebbles and mud sliding into the valley, to more solid footing. Then there are the cows and the donkeys bearing saddle sacks of sand to mix concrete in the ever pervasive constructuon below. The journey's the journey.

Views that define spectacular pop from around each twist. The switch-back drapes like silk ribbon around and around and up, up, up one mountain after another. "The bear went over the mountain, and what do you think (s)he saw? He saw another mountain, he saw another mountain, he saw another mountin, and what do you think he did?" Around one more bend, here's the Hindu arche gate to the village.

I thought Juxman hugged the hillside! This place is like putty stuck to crevices between the rocks. The pavement winds amongst tiny shops and temples, deeper into and up the mountainside. Only the main temple holds its own space, with a modest courtyard 3/4 way round at the base of a steep staircase to the dark chamber where the high priest puts ash on our foreheads and jewel-clothed women bless us with sing-song chanting as we come out.

The aspect of God here is blue and reminiscent of Neptune - conch shell pressed to lips, trident firmly gripped, he kneels facing the river. I do hope we are able to visit the Hindu information center back in Delhi - there are so many icons in so many forms, I'd like to understand.

Follow the path up, still higher, above the village. But not too far - there are wild elephants and panthers to deal with. We settle on a plataue above the near-most roofline, face the mountains and settle in. What emerges is chi-king connecting heaven and earth. These mountains are that. The depths of their roots reach clear to the molten center of the earth, whilst the peaks, still rising, pierce the thin air towards heaven. Today gifts me with yet another meditation reference I will hold for all time.

Gayle recommends yoga on the roof of Mander Ashram, just across the footbridge. For 2 hours we literally salute the setting sun, then repair to the inside deck for another 2 hours of meditation. Swami's energy is so sweet. My every chakra vibrates with lam, vam, rrrrram, yam, ham, ohm. Ah.

Swami really gets into it, goes half hour overtime, then invites us to stay for dinner. "Temple food is not like restaurant. This will feed your body and soul." Indeed.