It was our rest day. We were at the village of Janglic on the side of a glacial valley, 3,000 m up in India's western Himalayas. Tibet lay 50 km to the north. The road through the mountains had ended some 10 km back and 1,300 m below. A bank of wild marijuana was on our left, and a series of terraces on our right led down to a sheer 500-m drop into a river gorge. A priest had just decapitated a goat on the flat roof of a house. He lifted the animal's head to the sun, slowly turning so...
