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After ten days without meeting anyone, we came across this nomadic tent on the edge of the Lut desert. Abdul Aziz, the campement chief, sat next to his home under the stars, later offering me a golden pen. His tent felt like an extension of the hills in the distance.
Every day, Ajit walks from his village to the top of a slope on the highway, where trucks are forced to drive at a snail’s pace. He waves, and the driver might just throw a coin to him out of the window.
“That’s how I make my living. Simple … and nothing else”, he says.
We slept in Amarkantak overnight, the source of the holy Narmada river—a stream at this stage. A pilgrim passed on the other side, the beginning of a 3-year walk. I invited him for tea, he kindly declined. Pilgrims are not allowed to cross the river, even once.
Thirteen year old Amur Turchin rides home. We were staying with his parents in a yurt. In Mongolia, they say children often ride horses before they can walk. Zavkhan Province
A blessed Cretan landscape: olive groves, vineyards and a winding road. Above Archane village, Greece.
Four brothers—Barge, Kothar Kar, Talas Kar Sandip, and B.R. Khed Kar—are following the Narmada River on a pilgrimage. They have been on the road for over 1,700 miles.
We trekked into the Basho valley in Baltistan province and eventually reached a high pasture. All was quiet except for a swooshing sound. His dad was churning milk inside the hut. Peacefully he sat, just back from herding the goats.
Snow in the desert, Gobi, Mongolia
I saw him at the last second and had to reverse the car to get back to him. He was covered in blankets. Two different shoes. No bag, no water. “My name is Binod Yasin, I am walking ahead.”
“But Binod is a Hindu name and Yasin is a Muslim name?” I asked, slightly confused at the combination of the two.
“Yes. Does it matter? We are all under one,” he replied.
I finally got the eyes closed. The intimacy of the outfit, the expression, the touching, not what one assimilates with wrestling. It’s all out there. Wrestling is one of Mongolia’s age-old ‘Three Manly Skills’, along with horsemanship and archery – it’s called Bökh. Before a match, tradition dictates that the wrestler must keep one hand on his trainer’s shoulders and circle around him a few times with his eyes closed. Respect. Khövsgöl Province.
Women often wear several watches.
“I was given a watch for my wedding – it broke. Then my mother in law gave me a new one, so now I have two on my wrist”, says Rosman’s wife.
Near the frozen Chaqmaqtin lake, a herd of yak grazes below the Pamir mountains. Incredibly adaptable animals, they push snow with their hooves to feed on the wintery brown grass.
Early morning with Daryo Boi. Everyone calls him Momo, he is the shepherd hired by the khan (the community’s chief), here in his work outfit shortly after the herd left the coral (sheep pen). Love the details in the fabric.
Drying hay, Uttarakhand, India.
I met Deepak Sunita, a lone pilgrim, in Madhya Pradesh. He carries holy water from the Narmada River in his tin. Life can be simple.
Two young Kyrgyz girls walk up a frozen river to fetch water at the a spring on the edge of camp. Ech Keli camp, Afghan Pamir.
Taklamakan desert, Xinjiang, China.
It was the middle of winter in Siberia. A horse rider, she took a break near the hills surrounding Baikal Lake.
In the rural village of Moires, Crete, farmer Fanouris Alexopoulou prunes his olive trees in the spring so they will bear more fruit. That will provide Alexopoulou’s family with more olive oil, a source of income as well as a staple of their diet. In parts of the grove, the farmer tills the ground between the trees and plants potatoes, fava beans, and other vegetables. Greece.
Reaching Garam Cheshma village after crossing the Darkot An (4690m / 15490 feet) with my wife and sons. Entering the Hindukush range near the Afghan border. Pakistan, Yarkhun valley
Boulders pushed by the Garum Cheshma glacier, near Boroghil pass on the Afghan border. Hindukush, Pakistan.
Photo studio, Uttarakhand, India.
Her mother was busy doing p’tok, a thick bread cooked right inside the fire. Gul knew the herd was back, she stepped out and found the goats for milking. Tea will follow. Warm summer settlement, Waramdeh Valley.
The forest surrounding a shrine. Here, no trees can be cut and no fallen branches can be used for fire; everything must stay as it is.
Shrine in Hotan, Xinjiang, China.
Shrine in Hotan, Xinjiang, China.
The last chicken: Er Ali Boi tried to breed chicken in his camp, but at 4200 meters his enterprise wasn’t a success, except for the entertainment it brought to his nephew, the young Juma Boi.
“I have been gone 7 months. It’s about dedication, but mostly it helps with focusing the mind.”
Kabil Marek from Kashmir.
Mareile stands on an immersed boulder at the Kachura lake, heart of the Karakoram mountains. We lived in this village for a few months, doing volunteer teaching. Nearest phone was a 5-hour drive, all before the internet. We just soaked it in.
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