An Explorer’s Dream – By Rosie Baldwin
The weather has been as changeable as the landscape. The receding water line creates new gullies between the swelling pasture lands. At the head of peninsula the lush green abruptly stops, turning the corner you are greeted by a moonscape of huge boulders of different colours and patterns which seem to pierce the heart of each stone, scoring their surfaces and plunging thousands of years of history into each rolling stone…this is an explorer’s dream. Skidding over the smooth surfaces of these gigantic rocks in flip flops (not quite the Indiana Jones we felt) we have found our hordes!
When we first arrived the light was dreamy with wispy white clouds above the sandstone cliffs and peninsulas which jut out into the lake. This lulled us into a dreamy few days before the guests arrived and with them a storm which crashed down from the snow covered Himalayas and boomed through the valley. We hurriedly pushed all the seating from the verandas against the wall of the main house whilst the storm circled round us whipping up banana trees and tossing and dumping leaves all over the so carefully and neatly manicured garden. However, as quickly as the storm arrived it diminished and the peace and easy breeze of Basunti was restored.
Peering over the edge beyond the fence of sculptural cacti, standing centurions above the cliffs which drop into the valley, the glassy emerald lake stretches out below. The gleaming surface of the lake invites you into its depths. We have plunged into the cooling water and swum with guests navigating the fishing nets bobbing in the afternoon sun and scrambled onto the shard of rock which pierces the glistening surface to look out over the ever changing landscape laid out in front of us, with the Himalayas rising out of the clouds and finally to lie resting like lizards in the baking heat, soaking up the warmth of the stone beneath us.
We have explored the waters by canoe, navigating our way past rock faces crawling with monkeys and splashing our way past cormorants sitting on sandstone perches, waiting for the glint of scales beneath them…the perfect patient fishermen, the art of which we are still to master ourselves.
We intend to hone our fishing skills especially after tasting the fishy fruits of Dave’s labour…artfully filleted and cubed Singhara (aptly named after a Sikhs whiskers) marinated in a soy sauce, a squeeze of lime, a grind of pepper and a sprinkle of coriander skewered with red onion, tomato and cushioned with paneer, served on a bed of rice with richly comforting mixed dhal with a side of ice cold beer… watching the red glow of the sun as it sets on another richly rewarding day!
