Rising early is the perfect preparation for visiting the Goddess of Fire temple in Muktinath, Nepal's second-most sacred site
It's 7am, too early for the Indian pilgrims to have made their way up by jeep from Jomsom and then by sputtering motorbike up the winding path to the temple.
Sadhus, or mystics, watch us pass, smoking and hawking. Tibetan monks blow their long pipes at a Buddhist temple further up the sharp mountainside, the arid ochre slopes offset by the brilliance of the monks' robes.
My guide Krishna and I have risen early to climb back up to the main temple before the crowds arrive. Perched in a grove of poplars and with prayer flags stretching away on all sides, Muktinath is Nepal's second-most sacred site for Hindus after Pashupatinath, which in comparison lies rather forlornly at the end of Kathmandu's international airport runway. The site is equally revered by Buddhists, and pilgrims of both faiths traipse up in proof of the country's admirable religious tolerance.
They come to worship at the Goddess of Fire temple, where a flame of natural gas flickers undyingly next to a stream of water. They call it, rather unsurprisingly, the eternal flame. It lures the sadhus and devotees from as far afield as southern India, the richer ones flying in by helicopter to the temple's helipad.
Far more interesting are the 108 spouts of water lined along a semi-circular wall, all shaped like animal heads and representing the Hindu deities. Krishna dutifully cups water in his hands at each and wets his hair. Even better, a trio of Nepali teenagers arrive, strip down to their underwear, and then run and duck under the spouts, screaming shrilly at the iciness of the mountain runoff. They then plunge full-length into two larger pools.
All a little less sombre than Sunday church, and far more fun.
His performance more rooted in Nepal's Got Talent than in his Brahmin caste, Krishna prays and applies tika to my forehead in a small puja. We really should have done this yesterday for good luck ahead of the Thorung La crossing at 5,416 metres, but the last Hindu temple we passed was a week ago, maybe. Perhaps more. He rebuilds the small stone cairns dotted around the complex, praying now too for his family and for their wellbeing.
Outside, a sadhu rants at no one in particular. As we sidle past, I see he's actually talking into a mobile phone.
Asceticism is really not what it used to be.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jan/18/letter-from-nepal-temple-king
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