You can Imagine the scene, the 10 of us dirty, beaten tired and packed the brim with cameras, packs, hiking gear and other assorted items, standing along side the road like a bunch of freshly escaped prisoners just waiting for a chance to get the hell out of dodge.I can't be sure how many minutes... or hours passed after that, but sooner or later the bus came, and we couldn't have been happier. We threw our packs on the roof one by one and got on the heavily packed bus. Inside there were numerous people of interest in every nook and cranny of its rickety interior, you could tell that they were real and hardy individuals by the marks of hardship, time and experience vividly defined upon all their faces. It was a look that I come to admire and respect through out all my travels in second and third and hell, even first world countries. In America you can you only find such people if you know where to look, but in India there's no escaping them.Inside the bus a television playing a Hindi drama was on. As far as I could tell it was about a guy filming at a wedding who was in love with the bride, I couldn't understand a word being said but it was worth a round of giggles for Blake and I.When we got to Manali we found ourselves on a street packed with people not from there, Wadood told me that this was the place to be for people all over India and that it is a very common place for marriage and honey moons. There were also many kinds of foreigners there, there were the obvious rich or well off type that spent money just because they had it, the cautious yet driven, the newbies and of course the wild (I can't let go of the 70's mind set) kind, who sported dreaded hair, tattoos and piercings.We spent the better part of an hour wondering the streets looking for a Massi (Muslim) restaurant for Wadood, but eventually settled for someplace else. Blake ordered a half fried chicken but everyone ate it all before he even knew it was there. Part of our escape plan involved one of us going back to Raveesh's house to pick up the rest of our gear, and through the ancient and noble art of rock, paper, scissors Blake was chosen for the task. I gave him 500 rupees for the journey there and took him to his Volvo bus then said goodbye. It would be the only time in our adventures in India that we would be separated for even a single day.We returned to YHAI base camp in babeli to reclaim our baggagebut when we got there they were very upset that a member of our crew (Blake) had escaped them. The leader of the camp brought me to his little council of elders and basically interrogated me. I told him what had happened and he started threatening to call the police in Delhi and have Blake thrown in Jail. He went on and on.. " Forging someones signature is criminal is it not? In your country, my country and every other, you think you and your friend are special? You think that the rule of law does not apply to you, or that we are lawless here in the mountains?" I have to be honest, I was convinced that this man had been oppressed or badly influenced through some misfortunate event or run in with jackass American tourists in his life. The whole time he was giving me his glorified power trip speech, I was thinking about what Blake must be doing, and how he would have reacted had I lost the rock, paper, scissors match and he were to be standing here instead of me. "Are you threatening me?" was all I said in return, and this quickly brought an end to the tyraid that frankly I would hear no more of.I basically had to sign a paper taking full responsibility over Blake and that I wouldn't do this or anything like this ever again. We finished up there and headed for Khulu, a town like many other towns in this region overflowing with crazed Israeli, Russian and European tourists all hungry for Adventure and unity in their common struggle against the norm, but most importantly they come for the weed, which grows on every patch of ground arable enough for life to grow, which here is pretty much everywhere.I went to sleep first, Wadood came in when I was already asleep and sometime much much later Michael and Jerry carried Sandeep in and laid him down, he drank a lot and smoked and apparently had a grand old time that night, at least thats what they told me happened.Things were getting more and more interesting for us now, I could feel the pressure of the unknown and the mystery and wonder of what lie ahead pulling me forward. In truth our experiences in India had already taken me on a path entirely different from that of what I had expected and that of my dreams. Naturally while talking with the many colorful and wonderful characters within our group I learned of the things we might see or do, but as with all things spoken or written, the truth and spendor of your own experience cannot be compared to the words of others.