On the fourth day of our adventures through the Spiti valley we woke early. We had the morning free and wanted to make the most of our time in the small town of Tabo. We headed out of our cosy home stay and ventured out for a walk through the surrounding fields.

A pond in a farmers field reflects the Himalayan town of Tabo.

Water rushed in small channels alongside the little paddy fields whilst blue and white irises bloomed all around. A stupa rose up in between fields, its white exterior contrasting to the green all around. Down by the river, in the centre of the valley, the wind whipped and roared as the ferocious waters pounded by below.

A white stupa sits in a blue flower specked field under Himalayan mountains

Above the town, on the mountain slopes, sat a collection of caves, shrines and small structures. Intrigued, we decided to head on up and have a look. A short, sharp climb later and we were forcibly reminded that we were at very high altitude (Tabo lies at 3280 metres above sea level).

Jellie take a selfie on the steep hill side overlooking the Spiti Valley town of Tabo

Out of breath and, briefly, seeing stars we made it to the caves. Some of the caves were monastic, having been used as meditation retreats by monks from the monastery in the town below. The larger caves had evidence of more permanent habitation, with smoke from cooking fires scorched into the rocks. There was also a large mud house sitting on the slopes with views out across the valley and the town below.

A black and white sheepdog lies asleep outside a mud dwelling on the Himalayan slopes of Tabo. — *One of the mud dwellings had its own doggie denizen!*

The view was easily the most impressive thing about the hillside caves, below the valley spread out vast and barren. The wide, flat river bed sandwiched between impossibly tall mountains. Whereas Chitkul had been green and meadow flecked, Tabo was orange and brown, with sparse scrubs breaking up the slopes. Further down the apple trees reemerged, surrounding the town of Tabo.

The colourful town sits focussed around the ancient temple and monastery, with the houses and streets clustered around. In the distance we could see the helipad was being used as a cricket field by the local children.

Heading back down the hill we rejoined our group at the monastery and temple. The temples at Tabo are really special, truly ancient and otherworldly places. Founded over a thousand years ago Tabo is the oldest continually operating Buddhist site in the Himalayas.

Inside, the temple was magical, it smelt of wood and a thousand years of incense. Ornately carved images of the Buddhist pantheon crowded the walls, and small oil burners gave a dancing light across the painted walls. The monastery, even to us non-believers, felt truly holy, a place centred on something not of this world.

A small black and white puppy sits innocently under the white and gold stupa of Tabo monastery — *There is the little troublemaker!*

Back out in the sunlight we readjusted ourselves back to the here and now. We sat on the steps to the prayer hall and watched as one small puppy attempted (with a fair amount of success) to start a turf war between two of the monastery's dog packs.

After the barking had subsided we boarded our bus and bid goodbye to Tabo.

Passing over bridges covered in colourful prayer flags (and stopping for the obligatory selfies) we made our way up switchbacking mountain roads until we reached a high pass overlooking the Dhankar Monastery. The Dhankar Monastery sits at the centre of a “lotus” of mountains. A rock spire sits as the nexus with prayer flags radiating outwards.

A spite of rock has colorful prayer flags radiating outwards from its summit at Dhankar Monastery

Dhankar Monastery itself clings to a cliff face, its building budding outwards precariously. Inside it was a riot of colour and inscrutable (to us and our group at least) symbolism. Intricate artwork of the Buddha, devils, and geometric lotuses sat underneath a stuffed goat. We saw the humble room given to the Dali Lama on his visits and the bare austerity of the meditation cave.

The Dhankar Monastery grows in, out and around a rocky outcrop in the Spiti Valley deep in the Indian Himalayas.

Above the monastery was the ruins of the King's palace. This humble (for a King at least) palace had low mud and wood ceilings and an incredible view across the valley.

The view out across the valley from the Dhankar Monastery in the Indian Himalayan Spiti Valley.

Lunch was at a small restaurant overlooking the monastery. We went for the Tibetan staple of Thukpa; a hearty soup filled with vegetables, chicken and buckwheat noodles. The version we ate at Dhankar had a sweet and sour flavour with crunchy just cooked vegetables, it was a perfect, warming lunch for the increasingly chilly day.

After lunch we stocked up on cookies and departed for the final drive of the day to the town of Kaza.

After another stunning drive full of mountain passes, remote villages and incredible views, we pulled into the outskirts of Kaza and our Zostel. We decamped into our dorms and, as we would be here for the next three nights, spent some time unpacking and getting settled.

Kaza was the largest town we had stopped in on our Spiti valley trip so, after settling into our accommodation we headed out to explore.

We loved Kaza. This remote Himalayan town was full of little lanes, cafes, Tibetan restaurants, shops and, above all, friendly people. Ellie was stopped by children and attacked with English homework questions, the shopkeepers were friendly and there wasn’t a hint of ”tourist pricing” when John purchased a snazzy scarf.

We sampled the local super fruit of Sea Buckthorn in the form of a tea at the popular Himalayan Cafe. Sweet yet citrusy with a floral undertone, it was lovely, although we are not sure it can quite live up to the longevity claims made by the locals. We also had a plate of freshly steamed vegetable momos.

Momos are a kind of Tibetan dumpling, filled with vegetables, chicken or mutton and wrapped in a soft skin of dough. Momos are either steamed or deep fried and are a great snack. The momos at the Himalayan cafe were juicy and plump and were served with a piquant pepper dip.

A cup of bright orange sea buck thorn tea sits on a table in the Himalayan Cafe in Kaza. In the background snow capped mountains rise up.

On our way back to the Zostel we heard the beat of drums and the march of feet. This time it was not a mysterious procession for a dead goat but a wedding party! Townsfolk and people from the surrounding villages poured into town, all dressed to the nines in their traditional clothes and dancing along to the beat of the drum.