I asked the owner of my guesthouse in McLeod Ganj, a man named Dorje who has seen ten thousand trekkers come and go. “Baby John?” He laughed, a sound like gravel rolling downhill. “Ah. The lost baker.”

I sat on a mossy stone and ate a stale granola bar. I felt the absurdity of the quest. I had walked a full day to find a pile of rocks.

April 17, 2026 Location: Somewhere between McLeod Ganj and Bir, India