Where the Indus Is Young: A Winter in Baltistan (The Century Travellers)

While I can agree that Ms.Murphy is an intrepid traveler and a lyrical writer I found myself wanting to call child protective services,frequently. It is fine if she wants to put herself at risk,which she often does,dragging her daughter,Rachael,into the same dangers seems unconscionable to me. Given this Where the Indus is Young has adventure and beauty.

I read this book four months ago, and was so impressed I am now buying every Dervla Murphy book I can get my hands on. Why is this fabulous Irish travel writer not better known? She has the most unusual adventures and is diligent with her journal writing, which forms the basis of her books. True, this was written in the early 1970s, but her books are timeless. Only an occasional reference to current events makes the reader aware that this occurred several years ago. It's amazing that a European woman would go trekking in the Baltistan region of Pakistan in the middle of winter, but the fact that she brought her precocious 6-year-old daughter along under such conditions is shocking! She does purchase a pony for little Rachel to ride, but a child that would endure the cold, hunger and hardships with scarcely a whimper may be the most astonishing aspect of all. One may question the advisability of exposing a child to such deplorable conditions, but I suspect Rachel evolved into an equally intrepid traveler as her Mum. Murphy is the ballsiest woman adventurer whose books I've had the pleasure to read. Perhaps the world was a more innocent place a few decades ago, but she has a faith in humanity that's richly rewarded. This book is clearly one of her best. I intend to read it again!

I am an admitted Dervla Murphy fan, have read most of her books, and gamely suffer her occasional political rants for the greater good. Her books featuring travels in the company of her (at the time) young daughter, Rachel, are particularly harrowing: "Eight Feet in the Andes", "On a Shoestring to Coorg" and "Cameroon with Egbert" are fine examples, as is this book. Ms. Murphy goes where only the indigenous folks live, and, occasionally, where they are smart enough not to live, and, in this book, to the Northern Areas of Pakistan/India where it is now unlikely that a Westerner could venture, safely or not. Walking was her mode of travel along the Indus and, at the outset, she and Rachel enjoyed fine accommodations, to wit: "...we have a cell with dirty bedding, no table or chair, a fifteen-watt bulb, no water for the reeking Western loo, and no heating. (A few moments ago I had to stop writing to sit on my hands for long enough to thaw them.)" But the sublime power of ice, rubble, thin air and the stark beauty of the mountains worked magic despite ritual victimization by government officials and guest house managers along the way. By the time they arrived back in Skardu, Dervla was already planning to return.