We awoke on board our freezing cold houseboat and ate our breakfast. Our host, Gulam, then, after considerable delay, produced a small rowing boat for us to use. We would be able to paddle into the Lake he said, in order to visit the Moghul Gardens. The boat appeared to be made from matchsticks and had a nasty leak and so we were also provided with an old tin can for the purpose of baling out. 'If water comes in,' Gulam indicated, 'you throw out.' And so we did. Quite a lot.
We set off at 11:30, takings us a good half an hour to cover the first ten yards, falling to the inevitable 'messing-about-in-boats-syndrome' going round and round in circles. Eventually, we got the the hang of it and we got on our way. We paddled and paddled and seemed to be getting nowhere at all; this was not just a quick row into the Lake - this was gong to be an all day job.
It was not unpleasant though and sun was breaking through turning the temperature quite warm. The lake was perfectly still and mirror like, reflecting the the sharp angular mountains that rose straight from its shores. After a two hours animated paddling we reached the largest Moghul Garden, Nishat Garden. Being autumn, the garden was not at its best, the wide paths and gardens carpeted by rusty leaves. There were no flowers to be seen only the occasional bonfire and we tried our best to imagine what it would look like in the spring. Spectacular, we decided, and headed back to our leaky boat.
We had intended to visit for of the Moghul Gardens but had managed only the only, defeated by our own inefficiencies and distance.
We returned to the houseboat at around 5.30pm, returned our boat and headed quickly into town where we booked tickets for our bus to Gulmarg tomorrow. Returning to the houseboat at around 8.00pm, we eagerly anticipated our dinner after our days exertions. Gulam had told us we would be having 'Chicken, Mutton or Meat'. And it was certainly one of these but it was difficult to tell.
Srinigar proves to be a strange place. On the banks of the Lake and the canals are literally hundreds of houseboats, each one essentially a floating hotel capable of accommodating between 4 and 6 people. Guests to the houseboats would live on board in extremely comfortable surroundings, surrounded by all the owners family possessions, furniture, carpets, tables, beds and ornaments etc together with working plumbing, electricity, stove and heating while adjacent to them the owner and his family would live in relative squalor. In floating huts, they would huddle together under blankets and sleep on reed mats.
In our boat for instance 'Shangri La', Dave and I have the run of the place to ourselves. We have two comfortable beds with masses of covers and blankets and a well decorated bedroom, dining room and lounge where there is an exquisite sofa arranged by a large fire. Next to our boat lives Gulam and his family. They live in a contrivance of three small boats, no more than six feet high and twelve feet long, made of grey and black wood and connected by a series of planks. These boats provide home for Gulham, his wife and seven children. They have no furniture and live and sleep on the wooden floor. Gulam's four daughters are all dressed in the same salwar-kameez made from one piece of material as are also the boys.
To keep themselves warm in the evenings and cold winter mornings, the Kashmiris use individual wicker fire-pots. These clay pots are set in wicker baskets and contain smoldering embers taken straight from the fire! The baskets are then slung around their necks and carried about under their robes. You coimmonly see a group of local Kashmiris sitting around talking or playing cards, teir robes spread out like small tents, their smouldering pots between their legs!
