We drive slowly up the narrow road inside the forest; it's cooler now that we're higher up. No pines here, just magnificent deodhars, oaks, rhododendrons with their magnificent red flowers and other indigenous plants. Apparently panthers live here – I hope we spot one. Give a French-Canadian chap a lift, who immediately identifies the Johnny Winter CD playing in the stereo; he's been to a live Winter concert and is floored someone's listening to a CD in the back of beyond. Last couple of kilometers to the viewing platform to be covered on foot – it's a lovely walk. Reach the top, lungs filled with air de montagne frais, and settle down on the slopes near the viewpoint. Difficult to think of a better lunch – the mountains in front and parathas in the belly. Life's beginning to feel a whole lot better, no doubt about it. We head back, stopping for tea at a delightful shack, and sit down to an early dinner of mouth-watering rajma and buttered rotis, followed by cake and cream - it's the sort of food that'll cure terminal illnesses. A post-dinner yakking session by the fire injects yet more cheer into my veins, and I sleep a deep, dreamless sleep.

 The next day dawns in a refreshingly similar way. Decide to bathe in the garden, soaking in the sun (in my swim shorts, mind – public nudity probably hasn't come to Almora yet), which sets up a thundering appetite, which is in turn sated by scrambled eggs with parsley, fresh, home-made bread, marmalade and cream and several rounds of cocoa. Haven't eaten like this since, well, the break-up; it's a good sign, I tell myself. Today we're pointing the Volvo towards Jageshwar, a complex of ancient temples and an important pilgrimage spot – was once considered to be one of the 12 'Jyotirlingas'. The drive there is spectacular; we pass through mysterious, emerald-green cedar forests and down into a valley where the temples lie. It's surely one of the most alluring temple locations I've ever seen, and the temples themselves are no less eye-catching. There's 125 of them (although some have definitely crumbled), all arranged around the biggest shrine, Dindeshwar. We take a long look around and I leave feeling a mysterious sense of well-being, which is conspicuously heightened by a delicious lunch at a nearby roadside shack. It's almost incredible, really – I got to this part of the world feeling enervated, washed out, and in the space of a day, I seem to have got my mojo back. There's no doubt it's the place that's done the trick – the air, the mountains, the spectacular scenery, the food, the beguiling light – it's all rolled itself into a magic pill and wiped much of my mind clean. Life most definitely goes on. I'm back.