October 28, 2010
Ice Lake rests in the mountains high above Manang. At 4600 meters, the lake is also the highest point we have climbed thus far - some 1000 meters higher than Manang itself. The hike to the top takes about four hours, and not surprisingly, it's straight uphill the whole way.
Although we had intended to sleep in, the sound of boisterous Israelis arising in the rooms next store rustled us out of bed. Strapping on our hiking boots and packing a small day bag, we headed downstairs for a light set breakfast of two eggs, a small side of fried potatoes, and a piece of toast with tea. I say 'light' because that's what the menu said.
Before we set out on our hike, Joshua ran upstairs to find an immodium. Yup. His digestional tract has made few improvements since our stint in South America. On the up side, he hasn't been vomiting (knock on wood); on the down side, he has had some of the most abrupt and momentous visits to the bathroom (or bush, as it may be).
With the miracle drug in tow, we stopped in at a little shop to purchase a couple pairs of mittens. I here and now denounce all contact with gloves. They are shit, and I shall never use them again. In their sted, I have selected a sweet, hand-made woolen pair with purple and blue striping. Not only are they more effective, they are also far cuter.
Our last stop before we left Manang was the bakery. Joshua's a big believer in the power of pastries, and we nabbed a cheese roll, an apple roll, a butter croissant, and a couple of apples for lunch.
To get to the start of the Ice Lake day hike, you have to retrace your footsteps to Bhraka. with packs, it took about 30 minutes to reach Manang from this small village, but with a lighter load, we were there in 20.
Following the signs, we passed a wall of prayer wheels and then entered the stone village of Bhraka. Away from the trail, there are no guesthouses or restaurants; instead, the village has low doorways with glimmers of fires smoking and children playing. In the fields surrounding Bhraka, there are yaks and goats and farmers working the earth on their knees.
On the other side of town, we began to head up. Earlier that morning, my feet had skated over the slick ground near the waterhose. The last few mornings have all been below freezing, and it takes a while for the sun to surmount the Annapurnas and warm us up. With a stiff wind blowing along the side of the mountain, we were glad to have brought hats and mittens.
After about an hour of hiking, Joshua had another date with a bush, and I watched as a group of day hikers made their way up the switchbacks below. The trail is narrow and cut into the side of the mountain. Less than six inches separate my feet from a very long tumble downhill. However, it's not quite as scary as it could be, because there are hundreds of prickly bushes that cling to the hillside. If we were to fall, we'd be stabbed by a thousand thorns, but we probably wouldn't roll too far.
We continued to climb. Up and over the first ridge, we turned around to look at the mountains across the narrow valley. The snowy rooftop of the world ran from as far as we could see to the North to as far as we could see to the South. With the sun lighting them up, they are truly impressive.
More switchbacks led us up to another group of resting day hikers. We said hello and kept going. As we walked, we talked about what it would be like to travel with kids, if we believe in allowance, and our next culinary adventures, namely: cheese, kombucha, and sprouting (yes, Kyle. You have inspired me.).
After two more impressive uphill sections, we reached a more level (albeit still uphill) stretch of trail. When we turned around, we kept turning. All around us, the white mountains met us at eye-level. This is easily one of the most beautiful places on Earth. We stopped only for a moment, determined to make it to the top. We resolved to take pictures on the way back down.
The last bit of trail to Ice Lake took us up over another steep ridge, and as we circumnavigated one of the hills, we felt like we were walking right next to glaciers, jagged, snowy ridges, and peaks. Around the next bend, we caught up with another couple of hikers, and finally, we reached the first lake. Sure enough, the edges of the lake were frozen over, and as we continued down the trail to the second lake, we couldn't drag our eyes from the reflection that the mountains made in that emerald water.
The second lake, Ice Lake, lies about 200 meters from the first lake in a cirque below tawny hills, and beyond, snowy mountains. Where the trail meets the shore, a pile of stones and a pole play altar to dozens of stands of prayer flags. The water is turquoise, and sitting by the water were a four or five other day hikers, eating lunch.
We walked along the shoreline and picked a spot. Taking out our pastries and apples, we set to work. The wind forced us to don our extra layers, but the view was stunning. Once we had eaten, we took a few pictures, and then started back.
On our way down, I stopped to take probably a hundred photos. The bad news is that the two dimensions of a photograph will never be able to capture quite how beautiful this place is; the good news is that you can come here and see it for yourself. Seriously. If you're poor, there's no better place to vacation: we spend less than 20 dollars a day per person. If you're old, so are most of the other hikers. Most of them are middle aged; lots of them are retired. They hire porters to carry the bulk of their gear (which isn't very much - a sleeping bag, a warm jacket, and maybe a pair of sandals for when you're done hiking), and they just walk and walk and walk. I believe in you! If you want to do it, you can!
It takes much less time to descend than it does to ascend, so after about an hour of hiking, we were already halfway down the mountain. A couple of fearless trekkers passed us, throwing caution to the fates, but then one of them turned around and said, 'hey! Aren't you two the ones who were telling the really funny joke in Manang last night? You had someone else with you? I heard part of it, and it sounded funny, but I didn't catch all of it.'
I laughed and told him about our awkward encounter with Gaetan. He had probably heard us joking about it with Ankit afterwards. The man agreed that it was a comic coincidence, and then we exchange the usual questions and answers.
Joah is originally from Pennsylvania, but he went to college at Carleton in Northfield, Minnesota. He thinks Minnesota has a great vibe, and we have a lot in common with Canada, but ultimately, he decided to move out to LA. He lived there for a few years, and now he's living in New York. He loves to travel, and he's just as surprised as everyone else to find another couple of American travelers so far from home. He confesses to sometimes lying and saying he's Canadian. Especially when he's travelling in Europe.
Joah ran off down the trail to catch up with is hiking buddy, and we continued at a slower pace, slipping occasionally on the loose, dry dirt. Somehow, we lost the trail we had come up, and we were heading down a much steeper trail. Fortunately, we could see a couple other hikers doing the same thing, and Bhraka didn't look too far below.
It didn't take long to enter the village, and on the other side, we found our trail back to Manang. Joshua was determined to beat the Israelis to the shower, so we booked it to Manang.
All in all, it took us a little over 6 hours to make it to Ice Lake. It was a difficult trek, but the views were worth it. Right now, we're recouping in our room at Gangapurna. Joshua did, indeed beat the Israelis to the shower, and he returned to gloat that his shower had steam, it was so hot.
The sun is setting behind the Annapurna, and tonight, I think we'll roam town a bit and have a nice big serving of Dal Bhaat. Hoping all is well with you, my family and friends, at home. Lots of love from Nepal.
October 27, 2010
We woke up to Ankit telling us that the view outside was 'stupid.' As in stupidly beautiful. We ventured out into the cold and confirmed that it was, indeed, stupidly beautiful. The morning sun lit up the white mountains across the valley, and the snow glittered.
Before breakfast, we packed up our bags. In the kitchen, Beem was flipping our pancakes and heating a kettle for tea over the fire. We reached our hands close to the flames, hoping to revive them, and then we tucked into hot pancakes smothered in honey. Beem told us that the hike to Manang would take us about three hours. He screwed his eyebrows up, considering. But if you were locals, he said, it would only take you an hour and a half. He smiled, shrugged, and then turned to the dishes sitting in an ice-cold bucket of water.
Once we had finished our tea, we loaded up our packs and said goodbye to Beem. He pressed his palms together and bowed his head.
Our little guest house was about a hundred meters from Ngawal proper, and as we entered the village, we saw a large group of trekkers setting out for the day as well. Passing their large group on Ngawal's narrow, cobblestoned streets felt a little bit like an obstacle course, but on the other side, we had not only passed them but also a donkey train. There was nothing in front of us but open trail (and a couple seriously fast porters).
Manang is at a lower elevation than Ngawal, and we spent the first hour of our hike going down hill. At the bottom, we entered another small village called Munji. With a couple sweet stone buildings with orange-painted wood trim, this place was absolutely adorable. Locals rode by on horses with bells at their throats. A bakery sold freshly baked pastries and cookies.
The Mexican couple we had met at Timang joined us on the trail at Munji. They had taken the lower trail from Pisang, and them seemed disheartened to hear how beautiful the upper route had been.
The trail from Munji to Manang is fairly level, and it walks alongside a lovely blue, glacial melt stream. Yaks with enormous, curved horns graze near prayer wheels, and we say more and more trekkers. At one point, we saw three Nepali men with the most amazing load yet: they were carrying three fifteen foot long planks of wood. As they bent over and plodded forward, I wondered why Nepal doesn't dominate in the Olympics. You'd think with all the super fit Sherpas, porters, and Gurkahs, they'd win handily every time.
Passing through a gate and walking up a couple of short switchbacks, we entered Manang. There were guest houses and bakeries on either side of the trail, and we wandered along, looking for a place to stay. As we walked, men and women with enormous boulders strapped to their backs passed us in flip flops, headed for a huge pile of boulders in the middle of town.
The first we place we stopped was all full. In Lonely Planet, the authors recommend that trekkers stay two nights in Manang to acclimatize to the elevation. The larger village is a trekker hotspot, and not only are the guest houses bigger and fuller, but they are also much more expensive.
Luckily, the second guest house we stopped at, the Gangapurna, had a couple of rooms. They charge 500 rupees per room, but if you agree to eat at their restaurant, they drop the rate to 200 rupees. Some Dal Bhaat is marginally better than others, but in the end, Dal Bhaat is Dal Bhaat. We agreed to eat at their restaurant.
It had only taken us two and a half hours to get to Manang from Ngawal, so after we unloaded our packs, we sat out on the balcony and drank in the view. Manang is not one of the prettier villages along the Circuit, but our view from the guest house was lovely: down below, the stream rushes by, and up above, white-capped mountains soar up to the impossibly blue sky. The sun was shining, and even though it was still cold, it felt wonderful to tip our faces up to catch a little golden warmth.
We sat for a while, reading and gazing at the scenery, and when we got hungry, we went down to the timber-lined dining room for lunch. I ordered veg fried rice, while Joshua and Ankit branched out. They ordered the mushroom and yak cheese veggie burger. Everything was tasty, and even though the prices are higher up here near the pass, they weren't too unreasonable.
After lunch, Joshua and I decided to head up to viewpoint on the other side of the valley. An enormous glacier tumbles down from between two mountains, and from the view point, you can see its deep crevasses and a lovely, jewel-green ice melt lake below. Ankit opted to stay back on the balcony and read The Hobbit.
Before we left for the glacier, we picked up a couple of pastries. We ate them on trail, wiping our sticky fingers on our pants when we were done. Crossing a suspension bridge, we soon left Manang, and the trail immediately turned up.
It didn't take too long to gain a couple hundred meters of elevation, and soon, we could see the lovely lake below and the glacier up above. We continued climbing, talking about how we might be able to finagle purchasing another 66 acres with our property. Right now, the farm we're buying includes the house, farm buildings, and 14 acres, but there are 66 more available. For 'just' 200 thousand dollars more, the owner would be willing to sell us the whole thing.
As attractive as it would be to own 80 acres, it's not so attractive that we'd be willing to add a thousand dollars to our monthly mortgage. The only way we would even consider it is if we could have a fixed monthly income, but that gets tricky. Who's going to rent way out in the boonies? We floated a couple ideas, among them an intentional community where we sell off portions of the land to like-minded individuals with the stipulation that they may only sell back to us our others who fit the bill, a high-ropes course, and a cabin-holiday community for our families.
While the ideas had pizzazz, none of them smelled solid nor sound. However, if you're looking to live out in the boonies, grow your own food, and build a community of those who wish to live gently on the earth, let us know. There are 66 acres just waiting to be snatched up, and we're hoping they won't be taken by some industrial, feed-lot-esque farmer.
After about an hour of climbing, we reached prayer flags. The views over Manang were lovely, and we paused to take photos of our guest house far below, the mountains high above, and the pretty lake. Spying more trails heading up, we continued on.
We hiked on for another 30 minutes, finding an old, rundown homestead, another lookout, and nice views of the glacier. When we had explored most of the trails we could see, we headed back down to Manang.
Back at the guest house, Ankit asked us if we might be interested in watching a movie. There are a couple of projectors in Manang, and one of them was showing Seven Years in Tibet. Before we headed to the little theater, we picked up some cookies from the bakery, and as we were walking back, we ran into first Marco and then Gaetan.
Marco's the Italian that we met in Chamje. Swathed in a very puffy jacket, he was blowing great puffs of white air and smiling. We stopped to chat for a bit, and then Gaetan tapped me on the shoulder.
You may remember Gaetan from my posting entitled Himalayan Cowboys. Yup. The one and only Swiss-French Silk Road Cyclist who rode on the same bus from Leh to Manali. We recognized him right away, and he introduced us to his mother. Then, laughing, he said that he had thought he might run into us; just a couple of days ago, he had run into a couple (we're guessing Shelby and Cory), and they had got to talking. Apparently, Gaetan had told them what he was up to, and the couple had told him that they already knew all about it: we had already told them.
A little embarrassed, we laughed and asked him if they had made it all the way to Kathmandu. Apparently, Gaetan's bike had broken down just 200 kilometers from the city, and they had hailed a bus to carry them the rest of the way. Right now, his bike is getting a little TLC from a bike shop in Thamel. We didn't see Nadine, and we didn't ask where she was.
Before we parted ways, I stuck my foot in it again and introduced Gaetan to Ankit as 'the guy I had told you about. You know, the one who's been cycling from Switzerland?' Smooth. Now he knows that I probably tell everyone I meet.
Walking to the theater, we retold the story to Ankit, including the 'switching partners' part of the story. Ankit's eyes bulged, and he expressed a desire to become Swiss. We hoped that the mystery couple who had told Gaetan about his own story hadn't included all the sordid details that we had included.
And that, my friends, is why you don't talk shit about people on your blog. You might think that you'll never, ever, ever meet these people again. You might think that your stories won't travel far. You're wrong. The world is very, very small. (And yet... I'm still writing. I guess this story is just too good to be left untold :))
In the little theater, we sat down right next to the wood-burning stove. Before long, our cheeks were pink, and the hairs on our legs were tingling from the warmth. The owner turned on a short, 20 minute film set in Manang before the film, and we watched as two boys raced horses, one stole a watch, and the other missed his father in America. Right now, the fields and hillsides of Manang are brown and dry, but when this movie was filmed, everything was green and growing. It's beautiful now, but it must be gorgeous in the Spring.
The theater slowly filled up with other trekkers, including Marco, and then Into Thin Air blasted on screen. Joshua, Ankit, and I looked at each other, bewildered. Isn't this supposed to be Seven Years in Tibet? No one else seemed too bothered, so we resolved to take it in stride. Into Thin Air it is.
It's strange to see a dramatization of such tragic real-life events. I'm sure that if I had known anyone involved in the debacle, I would have been offended and outraged; instead, the bad one-liners were kind of funny, and the bad acting was even funnier. In the end, I was actually pretty satisfied with the casting: they all pretty much looked like the characters I had imagined when I had read the book. Except for Lopsang and Ang Dorje. Their casting was abysmal and their roles minimalized. Also, I found their representation of Yasuko, the female Japanese climber, completely belittling and chauvanistic.
In the middle of the film, the owner hit pause and served us all hot tea and popcorn. In all, the film and snacks cost 250 rupees per person. It felt surreal to be sitting in a little theater in the middle of the Annapurna, but you have to admit: the only better place to watch a corny dramatization of Into Thin Air would be at Everest Base itself, and I don't think they have a little movie theater (but don't quote me on it).
After the movie, we walked back to our guest house for a little dinner. I wasn't that hungry from all the snacking, so I just had garlic soup (which was delicious) while Joshua and Ankit repeated their veggie burger experience from lunch.
While we ate, we played cards, and Ankit told us a little bit more about his travels in Southeast Asia. Talking about Vietnam and the horrible things that America did to both Vietnam and her neighboring countries, Laos and Cambodia, made me feel guilty. Disagreeing with American foreign policy isn't enough; in my mind, my apathetic attitudes toward American politics and government render me just as culpable as people who supported our murderous efforts abroad. I struggle to figure it out. The biggest part of me looks at our politicians and government and wants absolutely nothing to do with it. I know that a lot of people work very, very hard and some of them even make small steps towards progress, but it never seems like it's enough. No one is radical enough, and it feels like our government is designed to thwart radicals. Teaching in New Orleans left me feeling largely hopeless that our government might ever be able to scrape our education up off the ground. When I look at the politicians running for office, none of their environmental policies are extreme enough to turn our path to destruction around.
Ugh. This is why I don't talk politics. In the back of my mind, I'm aware that goverments and politicians are the ones with enough power to make a difference, but in the front of my mind - the place that sees and reads about the things that governments and politicians do - I'm aware that they are a slow-footed force beaten into moderation and banality. So while I suspect that massive changes are only possible through governments and politicians, I'd rather stick with people. I'd rather live my life the way I believe is gentlest to the land and to others. I want to build relationships and plant things, and if I can help the people around me, that would be wonderful. I feel guilty that I'm not driven to be the radical force that's so obviously needed. I know that my lethargy is partially to blame for the continuation of our murderous and neglectful policies abroad.
Ugh. I guess I'm writing this to find some resolution, but there doesn't seem to be any. I have a lot of excuses, but they sound pretty weak even to my own ears. I suppose I will have to resolve to do something about it. I'll keep you updated if you hold me accountable.
Before we went to bed, we planned to hike to Ice Lake in the morning. Ankit considered joining us for a millisecond, but then he looked at the map and decided a day of relaxation might be in order instead.
October 26, 2010 cont'd
We moved into the kitchen. The warmth from the fire drew us in close, and as we watched our Beem, our guest house keeper, cook our curry and dahl, he told us a little bit about himself.
Beem has two sons, and both of them go to school here in the Annapurna. They have the usual subjects, including English. The school is poor, so none of the students have used a computer, and Beem is disatisfied with their quality of education. He tells us that there is a lot of inequality in Nepal. The rich Nepalis receive excellent educations for their children, while the mountain people receive poor seconds. Still, things are somewhat better than they were when he was growing up. He never went to school. He learned his English from tourists.
Beem told us that he has friends who have moved to America. They work very hard he says, but they have much more money. Their lives are better there. He shakes his head. Living here is very hard, he says.
On this trip, I've written about how beautiful the landscape is, how beautiful the villages are. I suppose I've also written about the men carrying enormous packs on their backs in little more than flip flops and an economy mostly based on tourism. In order to provide an accurate description of this place, it is important to say this too: the Nepali way of life is undeniably hard, and not all of them are satisfied with it. Before we came to Nepal, a couple of tourists heard where we were going and shook their heads. It's such a shame that they've built a road all they way to Jomsom, they said. That's globalization for you. That's modernization for you. Destroying the culture, the way of life.
I suppose these things might be true, but at the risk of pissing off a lot of people, I might also suggest that it's a bit unfair for us tourists and trekkers to expect the Nepali to keep living like they've been living for hundreds of years while we go off and tour the planet, write e-mails, have running water, and carry supplies in our cars. Don't get me wrong; in a lot of ways, the Nepali mountain culture stands for everything I believe in: they live off the land, their economies are local, and they have rich, rooted cultures and close families. But who am I to say that they can't have what we have? It's not my place.
Dal bhaat was delicious, and we cleaned our plates while Beem sat, warming his hands by the fire. Only after we had finished did he serve himself.
Joshua went off to bed with a little headache while I finished charging the computer. I showed a few photos of our travels to Beem, pointing out Big Ben, London Bridge, the Blue Mosque, and La Mezquita. He nodded and smiled. I think he wanted to see them, but I also felt painfully aware of our massive privilege. We're so lucky to be doing this.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Temang to Dukhur Pokhari to Ngawal
October 26, 2010
There are two routes to Manang. One is called the High Road, and the other is called the Low. As you might imagine, the High Road ambles along seductively, providing monumental views, and then it takes a sharp turn up mountain. We chose the High Road.
This morning, we woke up to Ankit muttering outside. It sounded like he was narrating for his camera, 'yeah, it might be beautiful, but this is how cold hell is.' When we started laughing, our breaths came out in great puffs of white. It really was cold.
Prying ourselves from warm sleeping bags, we braved the outhouse and then immediately retreated the kitchen where the guest house keeper and his wife were frying up our pancakes over an open fire. We huddled near the stove, tucking our freezing hands between our knees and gaping at our cook's bare feet. These people are hard core.
Joshua had his usual - muesli and milk with a pancake - while I had a buckwheat pancake. The buckwheat is hearty and warm, and I feel like it's the kind of meal my pioneer ancestors would be proud of: something that sticks to your insides. While we ate, we enjoyed the smell of woodsmoke, the window-framed mountains, and the smiling company of our guest house keeper. Although we may be far away from home, it almost feels like we're fast-forwarding through Minnesota seasons. First, we had fall, as the elevation rose and the trees turned colors, leaves fell, and eventually, we were surrounded by evergreens. Now, the mountains are snowy, and there's a thick coating of frost outside. It feels like were back home, in a way.
Back in our rooms, we packed up the last of our things and headed out of Dukhur Pokhari. For the first 45 minutes, we walked on a wide, level path between evergreens and over streams. The mountains peaked out from behind greener hills, and their snowy caps reminded me of landscapes in Northern New Mexico, Montana, or the Cascades of Washington. Someplace dry and mountainous; someplace peaceful and breathtaking where the buildings are built from untreated timber, the chimneys spill fragrant woodsmoke, and the smiling locales grin and say, 'Namaste.'
In Pisang, we wandered through another town that reminded us of the wild west, and past a long row of prayer wheels, we turned to cross the river. Our guest house keeper had recommended the High Road between Pisang and Manang, and as we all know, locals know best (and so does Lonely Planet). We bounded across the swinging foot bridge, admiring the prayer flags flap in the river-wind, and on the other side, we headed into the evergreens.
10 more minutes down the road, Annapurna erupted in a great white mass, and we stopped to stare. With blue-grey shadows, icy ridges, and an electic blue sky above, Annapurna makes a startling impression. Once we started staring, we couldn't stop. For the rest of the day, we kept one eye on the trail and the other pinned on Her Majesty.
Around another turn, Ankit spied a turquoise lake nestled among evergreens. We detoured to the shoreline, and on the other side, a couple of Korean trekkers called us over. Dropping our packs, we circumnavigated the lake, and on the other side, we were greeted by the most magnificent view yet: Mring Tso Tal is a looking glass for Annapurna II, and the glassy green surface provides a perfect place to stop and admire the mountain.
After we took a few photos, we just sat and looked and enjoyed the sun warming our faces. We stayed that way for a while, occasionally sputtering something about how ridiculously beautiful everything was, and then we headed back on the trail. Walking through the evergreens, more snowy mountains played hide and seek between the boughs. The scenery made us walk more slowly, and we had enormous smiles on our faces the entire time. We're so lucky to be here.
In a clearing, there was another wall of prayer wheels, and around the corner, another suspension bridge crossed a small stream below. Up above, we could see our trail cut mean switchbacks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... Way up there, so high it seemed like a toy, stood a white and gold chorten with streaming prayer flags. I looked back at Joshua and Ankit, wished them luck, and plodded up.
I have this thing about walking or running or biking up mountains: I don't stop until it's over. I'm certainly not fast, but I'm commited, and in the end, the tortoise usually does beat the hare. It took about an hour to make it to the top, and once I did, I ducked into the chorten courtyard so I could watch Joshua and Ankit walk the last few switchbacks up. Sitting before the chorten, overlooking the deep gorge below, Annapurna II above, and Annapurna IV to the right, I was a very happy woman. The wind whipped the flags, and their fluttering did sound like prayers. I put on my long sleeve shirt and hat. I sat.
After a bit, Joshua and Ankit came into view, and just before they made it to the top, I ran over to greet them. They demanded lunch.
Luckily, the chorten sits directly in front of Yak Ru Mount View Lodge which also doubles as a restaurant. Dumping our packs, we stood gaping at the view for a moment, and then the blustery wind drove us inside their sunlit dining room. We ordered food and sat looking at the mountains through little potted marigolds sitting on the window sill.
Not quite hungry enough for a huge plate of fried rice, I ordered noodle soup and so did Joshua (albeit with a hearty side of steamed potato momos). The food was delicious, and after a good rest, we payed and headed back on the road.
The road between Ghyaru (where the lodge is) and Ngawal takes about an hour to traverse if you're not stopping every other minute to stutter and gasp and gawk over how beautiful it is. If you're like us, and you have the gift of sight, it takes about an hour and a half. On our way, we smoothed our fingers over walls with Tibetan-carved mani slates. We passed a yak train with yaks who had horns wider than my wing-span. We posed beside cairns, gompas, and stupahs for photos, and we counted our blessings.
Around a few more bends, we spotted Ngawal. Sitting cupped on every side by snowy mountains, this dry, windswept village is tonight's port of call. Call us lazy, but when we saw the very first lodge, we stopped there. With just three rooms and a beautiful, secluded courtyard a hundred meters from the rest of Ngawal, the Himalayan Restaurant and Lodge is perfect, and if it isn't, we don't care. It has a little dining room with lots of windows that capture the best views. Inside, the untreated timber makes us feel like we're in a Swedish Sauna. It's cold, but it's also cozy, and the guest house keeper is charging us 50 rupees per person, per night. Can't beat that.
October 25, 2010
We woke up to our noisy neighbors singing in Spanish. It was 5 AM. We drifted in and out of sleep for another hour and a half, listening to them knock about loudly in the room next door, and when our alarm went off, we rolled out of bed, ready to go.
Once we had packed all of our stuff, we headed outside to admire the view from the rooftop. The sun was peaking into the valley below, and rather than it's full force, we could only see its rays lighting up the mountains. Whenever I see rays like that, they remind me of those votive images of the Blessed Virgin Mary, standing on a ring of stars, cloaked in blue, and illuminated by visible rays of light. Anyway, that's what the rays were like: visible, with all the power of something holy.
Down below, we sat in the dining room and wolfed down breakfast. My apple pancake had whole, beautiful disks of apples baked inside, and Joshua had hot muesli. Once we had drained our cups of tea and payed, we strapped our packs onto our backs and headed back on the road.
From Temang to Chame, the villages look like they've been taken straight from a Western film set. As we walked, we passed more donkey trains and men with enormous packs and bundles of wood. After a while, the sun warmed us enough to take off our jackets, and in Chame, we checked in at the ACAP station.
Over another suspension bridge, we walked through old Chame, and on the other side, we stopped for bit so I could bandage my toe. Fortunately, my hiking boots have been kind to my feet, but the hours on foot have caused the pad of my big toe to blister. Once I had finished doctoring my foot, we continued on. The scenery had changed yet again, and lining the sides of the turbulent river below were forests of evergreens. The mountains up above grew barer and barer.
In Bhratang, there are only two buildings, and one of them is a restaurant. We stopped to order some Veg Fried Rice, and while we waited, we enjoyed the incredible views and the sun on our faces. On the porch across the road, thousands of apple slices were drying in the sun, and a couple of big-horned cows strolled by.
Lunch came, and we ate heartily, dousing each bite with hot green chile sauce. When our plates were clean, we payed and continued on the trail. After a while, the evergreens thinned and the path took us along a cliff side. Below, the river rushed around enormous boulders, and up over the next ridge, we were greeted by the most incredible view. A mountain stretched up to the sky, and the side facing us was perfectly smooth. A suspension bridge crossed the river, and behind us, the mountains were frosty and pointed. We stopped for some photos.
On the other side of the bridge, we began our climb up. Once again, evergreens gave the air a smell that reminded me of fall and winter and home. It was beautiful. After a few minutes of hiking, we reached a little shelter where a couple of men were selling carved yak bone necklaces and beads. We stopped to admire their wares, and when a group of frenchies threatened to catch up with us, we moved on.
The rest of the walk to Dukhur Pokhari didn't take long, and as we walked, we talked about relationships, dream homes and jobs, and compromise. In between our musings, we'd pause and look up. The smooth mountain stood like a curtain behind us, and up ahead, more saw-toothed, frosty peaks crowned the evergreens.
Dukhur Pokhari is a small village comprised mostly of brightly painted wooden guest houses and restaurants. We walked through, looking for the best accomodations, and when I spied a little guest house with just two little free-standing cottages, I made an executive decision.
After 6 hours of hiking, we arrived in Dukhur Pokhari earlier than we had at our other guest houses. We changed into some warmer clothes, ordered an enormous (expensive) pot of ginger tea, and sat out under the blue sky and mountains, reading. After a while, we moved inside the dining room where the little children were making their bed on the floor and wrestling, and then we ordered some Dal Bhaat.
One of the young helpers spearheaded the cooking operation, and when they served us, he stood by proudly and nervously, waiting for the verdict. We proclaimed it the best Dal Bhaat thus far, and he beamed. We weren't lying, either. The food was delicious, and we ate until I thought I might burst.
Once dinner was in our bellies, we sat back, and even though it was only 7, we decided it was time to turn in. Thankfully, the bed for tonight is a bit wider than the beds we've had so far, and Joshua and I were able to squeeze onto the same bed. Snuggled in our sleeping bags and under an extra blanket, we read for a bit, and then we fell asleep.
There are two routes to Manang. One is called the High Road, and the other is called the Low. As you might imagine, the High Road ambles along seductively, providing monumental views, and then it takes a sharp turn up mountain. We chose the High Road.
This morning, we woke up to Ankit muttering outside. It sounded like he was narrating for his camera, 'yeah, it might be beautiful, but this is how cold hell is.' When we started laughing, our breaths came out in great puffs of white. It really was cold.
Prying ourselves from warm sleeping bags, we braved the outhouse and then immediately retreated the kitchen where the guest house keeper and his wife were frying up our pancakes over an open fire. We huddled near the stove, tucking our freezing hands between our knees and gaping at our cook's bare feet. These people are hard core.
Joshua had his usual - muesli and milk with a pancake - while I had a buckwheat pancake. The buckwheat is hearty and warm, and I feel like it's the kind of meal my pioneer ancestors would be proud of: something that sticks to your insides. While we ate, we enjoyed the smell of woodsmoke, the window-framed mountains, and the smiling company of our guest house keeper. Although we may be far away from home, it almost feels like we're fast-forwarding through Minnesota seasons. First, we had fall, as the elevation rose and the trees turned colors, leaves fell, and eventually, we were surrounded by evergreens. Now, the mountains are snowy, and there's a thick coating of frost outside. It feels like were back home, in a way.
Back in our rooms, we packed up the last of our things and headed out of Dukhur Pokhari. For the first 45 minutes, we walked on a wide, level path between evergreens and over streams. The mountains peaked out from behind greener hills, and their snowy caps reminded me of landscapes in Northern New Mexico, Montana, or the Cascades of Washington. Someplace dry and mountainous; someplace peaceful and breathtaking where the buildings are built from untreated timber, the chimneys spill fragrant woodsmoke, and the smiling locales grin and say, 'Namaste.'
In Pisang, we wandered through another town that reminded us of the wild west, and past a long row of prayer wheels, we turned to cross the river. Our guest house keeper had recommended the High Road between Pisang and Manang, and as we all know, locals know best (and so does Lonely Planet). We bounded across the swinging foot bridge, admiring the prayer flags flap in the river-wind, and on the other side, we headed into the evergreens.
10 more minutes down the road, Annapurna erupted in a great white mass, and we stopped to stare. With blue-grey shadows, icy ridges, and an electic blue sky above, Annapurna makes a startling impression. Once we started staring, we couldn't stop. For the rest of the day, we kept one eye on the trail and the other pinned on Her Majesty.
Around another turn, Ankit spied a turquoise lake nestled among evergreens. We detoured to the shoreline, and on the other side, a couple of Korean trekkers called us over. Dropping our packs, we circumnavigated the lake, and on the other side, we were greeted by the most magnificent view yet: Mring Tso Tal is a looking glass for Annapurna II, and the glassy green surface provides a perfect place to stop and admire the mountain.
After we took a few photos, we just sat and looked and enjoyed the sun warming our faces. We stayed that way for a while, occasionally sputtering something about how ridiculously beautiful everything was, and then we headed back on the trail. Walking through the evergreens, more snowy mountains played hide and seek between the boughs. The scenery made us walk more slowly, and we had enormous smiles on our faces the entire time. We're so lucky to be here.
In a clearing, there was another wall of prayer wheels, and around the corner, another suspension bridge crossed a small stream below. Up above, we could see our trail cut mean switchbacks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... Way up there, so high it seemed like a toy, stood a white and gold chorten with streaming prayer flags. I looked back at Joshua and Ankit, wished them luck, and plodded up.
I have this thing about walking or running or biking up mountains: I don't stop until it's over. I'm certainly not fast, but I'm commited, and in the end, the tortoise usually does beat the hare. It took about an hour to make it to the top, and once I did, I ducked into the chorten courtyard so I could watch Joshua and Ankit walk the last few switchbacks up. Sitting before the chorten, overlooking the deep gorge below, Annapurna II above, and Annapurna IV to the right, I was a very happy woman. The wind whipped the flags, and their fluttering did sound like prayers. I put on my long sleeve shirt and hat. I sat.
After a bit, Joshua and Ankit came into view, and just before they made it to the top, I ran over to greet them. They demanded lunch.
Luckily, the chorten sits directly in front of Yak Ru Mount View Lodge which also doubles as a restaurant. Dumping our packs, we stood gaping at the view for a moment, and then the blustery wind drove us inside their sunlit dining room. We ordered food and sat looking at the mountains through little potted marigolds sitting on the window sill.
Not quite hungry enough for a huge plate of fried rice, I ordered noodle soup and so did Joshua (albeit with a hearty side of steamed potato momos). The food was delicious, and after a good rest, we payed and headed back on the road.
The road between Ghyaru (where the lodge is) and Ngawal takes about an hour to traverse if you're not stopping every other minute to stutter and gasp and gawk over how beautiful it is. If you're like us, and you have the gift of sight, it takes about an hour and a half. On our way, we smoothed our fingers over walls with Tibetan-carved mani slates. We passed a yak train with yaks who had horns wider than my wing-span. We posed beside cairns, gompas, and stupahs for photos, and we counted our blessings.
Around a few more bends, we spotted Ngawal. Sitting cupped on every side by snowy mountains, this dry, windswept village is tonight's port of call. Call us lazy, but when we saw the very first lodge, we stopped there. With just three rooms and a beautiful, secluded courtyard a hundred meters from the rest of Ngawal, the Himalayan Restaurant and Lodge is perfect, and if it isn't, we don't care. It has a little dining room with lots of windows that capture the best views. Inside, the untreated timber makes us feel like we're in a Swedish Sauna. It's cold, but it's also cozy, and the guest house keeper is charging us 50 rupees per person, per night. Can't beat that.
October 25, 2010
We woke up to our noisy neighbors singing in Spanish. It was 5 AM. We drifted in and out of sleep for another hour and a half, listening to them knock about loudly in the room next door, and when our alarm went off, we rolled out of bed, ready to go.
Once we had packed all of our stuff, we headed outside to admire the view from the rooftop. The sun was peaking into the valley below, and rather than it's full force, we could only see its rays lighting up the mountains. Whenever I see rays like that, they remind me of those votive images of the Blessed Virgin Mary, standing on a ring of stars, cloaked in blue, and illuminated by visible rays of light. Anyway, that's what the rays were like: visible, with all the power of something holy.
Down below, we sat in the dining room and wolfed down breakfast. My apple pancake had whole, beautiful disks of apples baked inside, and Joshua had hot muesli. Once we had drained our cups of tea and payed, we strapped our packs onto our backs and headed back on the road.
From Temang to Chame, the villages look like they've been taken straight from a Western film set. As we walked, we passed more donkey trains and men with enormous packs and bundles of wood. After a while, the sun warmed us enough to take off our jackets, and in Chame, we checked in at the ACAP station.
Over another suspension bridge, we walked through old Chame, and on the other side, we stopped for bit so I could bandage my toe. Fortunately, my hiking boots have been kind to my feet, but the hours on foot have caused the pad of my big toe to blister. Once I had finished doctoring my foot, we continued on. The scenery had changed yet again, and lining the sides of the turbulent river below were forests of evergreens. The mountains up above grew barer and barer.
In Bhratang, there are only two buildings, and one of them is a restaurant. We stopped to order some Veg Fried Rice, and while we waited, we enjoyed the incredible views and the sun on our faces. On the porch across the road, thousands of apple slices were drying in the sun, and a couple of big-horned cows strolled by.
Lunch came, and we ate heartily, dousing each bite with hot green chile sauce. When our plates were clean, we payed and continued on the trail. After a while, the evergreens thinned and the path took us along a cliff side. Below, the river rushed around enormous boulders, and up over the next ridge, we were greeted by the most incredible view. A mountain stretched up to the sky, and the side facing us was perfectly smooth. A suspension bridge crossed the river, and behind us, the mountains were frosty and pointed. We stopped for some photos.
On the other side of the bridge, we began our climb up. Once again, evergreens gave the air a smell that reminded me of fall and winter and home. It was beautiful. After a few minutes of hiking, we reached a little shelter where a couple of men were selling carved yak bone necklaces and beads. We stopped to admire their wares, and when a group of frenchies threatened to catch up with us, we moved on.
The rest of the walk to Dukhur Pokhari didn't take long, and as we walked, we talked about relationships, dream homes and jobs, and compromise. In between our musings, we'd pause and look up. The smooth mountain stood like a curtain behind us, and up ahead, more saw-toothed, frosty peaks crowned the evergreens.
Dukhur Pokhari is a small village comprised mostly of brightly painted wooden guest houses and restaurants. We walked through, looking for the best accomodations, and when I spied a little guest house with just two little free-standing cottages, I made an executive decision.
After 6 hours of hiking, we arrived in Dukhur Pokhari earlier than we had at our other guest houses. We changed into some warmer clothes, ordered an enormous (expensive) pot of ginger tea, and sat out under the blue sky and mountains, reading. After a while, we moved inside the dining room where the little children were making their bed on the floor and wrestling, and then we ordered some Dal Bhaat.
One of the young helpers spearheaded the cooking operation, and when they served us, he stood by proudly and nervously, waiting for the verdict. We proclaimed it the best Dal Bhaat thus far, and he beamed. We weren't lying, either. The food was delicious, and we ate until I thought I might burst.
Once dinner was in our bellies, we sat back, and even though it was only 7, we decided it was time to turn in. Thankfully, the bed for tonight is a bit wider than the beds we've had so far, and Joshua and I were able to squeeze onto the same bed. Snuggled in our sleeping bags and under an extra blanket, we read for a bit, and then we fell asleep.
Nadi to Chamje to Temang
October 24, 2010
At 7, Marco, Ankit, Joshua and I sat down for a big breakfast. Determined not to hike hungry, Joshua ordered a banana pancake and muesli with apples while I ordered a huge plate of fried vegetables and potatoes with egg and cheese. We drank a pot of tea between the two of us, and by 8, we had eaten, packed the last of our things, paid, and hit the road.
The guest house keeper sent his nephew with us, and although the young boy seemed initially irritated with his oversize, Westerner babysitters, he warmed up after a few minutes and introduced himself as Vevek. Vevek lives in Tal, and his uncle was worried about him making the hiking on his own.
The two hour hike from Chamje to Tal first crosses the river and then climbs up. Waterfalls cascade down cliff-faces and mountains on either side, and below, the river rushes frantically over boulders and around turns. The trail begins with a gradual climb and then steepens in earnest. While Joshua and Ankit chatted, I walked ahead and sung hymns. The only lyrics I ever remember are hymns.
Cresting a hill, we could see Tal below. Sitting next to the sprawling river in a wide valley, Lonely Planet calls Tal the Annapurna's 'Wild West.' With its wide, dirt streets and wooden buildings, I guess I can see where they're coming from. Descending into the valley, I admired the milky water rushing over the flat, pebbled ground. This place is beautiful.
In Tal, we said goodbye to Vevek and filled up our water bottles at a ACAP Water Station. There are a number of these all around the Circuit, and they sell boiled and filtered water for a reasonable price. Their goal is to cut down on plastic water bottles, and we're all for it.
Heading out of Tal, we walked along the river's edge for a while, and then we crossed another swinging suspension bridge to the other side. As we again climbed up, we passed dozens of porters heading in the opposite direction. These men are unbelievable. They carry upwards of 70 pounds each, and their big baskets and crates have a strap that loops up over their foreheads. All of the men have small builds, and yet, they are able to carry the most incredible loads.
Watching these men labor down the path in flip flops, we had mixed feelings. On the one hand, porters are making money. There's a market for people to carry goods up and down the trail, and they've tapped into it. On the other hand, it seems a bit demeaning. Lots of the porters are carrying things like tables, kitchen wares, sleeping bags, tents, and people's surplus gear. These bags are so enormous and heavy, and I can't help but wonder if it's all really necessary. Between Joshua and I, we have 83 liters worth of space in our packs. They're full, but we've been discerning about the things we chose to carry, and I seriously doubt that carrying more stuff would improve our Circuit experience. We have everything we need, and what we don't have, we can easily find along the trail: food, lodging, good views, and wonderful company.
Along the way, we also encounter dozens of donkey trains. Some of the donkeys carry nothing but their saddles, but others are carrying huge barrels of water, fuel, or packs of food. All of them have bells that sound with each step. We move to the side to let them by, and they bob their heads as they descend. At the back of the train, a herder tuts and yells, and when he sees us, he smiles and says, 'Namaste.'
After Tal, we catch up with a group of young Trekkers from Israel and Canada. We smile and say hello, but they're deep in conversation, so we leave them behind. At one point, the trail passes through a waterfall, and when I stop to feel the breeze, I look behind at Joshua's grinning face and Ankit filming.
A little while later, we come to another swinging bridge, and on the other side, we enter Karte. Surrounded by cliff walls and gardens, this sweet little town has a couple guest houses, and more importantly, restaurants. Although we prefer not to eat at a restaurant three times a day, the selection for over-the-counter food is mostly packaged, and we dislike the idea of creating more waste. Plus, most of the packaged food also happens to be junk food, so we decided to stop at a restaurant and ask them what was quickest and easiest for them to make. They said fried rice.
Sitting in the shade, we waited for our rice and pulled out our maps. Ankit has a little leaflet with a graph that charts the distance traveled, the amount of time it should take to travel it, and the elevation of each village. So far, we've hiked for four hours today, and judging by the chart, we have a little more than three hours until we get to Temang.
The plates of fried rice come, and in less than ten minutes, we've polished them off. Paying quickly, we load on our backpacks, and we continue on the trail. In all, our lunch stop lasted 35 minutes. The food tasted great, we didn't create any waste, and we didn't loose a lot of time.
From Karte, we walked to Dharapani. We talked about whether or not we feel homesick, and the sort of things we feel homesick for. Is it family? A place? A feeling?
In Dharapani, we checked in with the APAC, showing them our trekking permits, and we ran into the young group of Israelis and Canadians again. It didn't take long to sign in, and once we had finished, we continued on to Bhagarchap. Although we had started the day in mountains with bamboo, rice, and other jungle-like growth, the ground cover began to change, and all of sudden, we were surrounded by mountains with evergreens. In the distance, we could see snow-capped mountains, and the air began to cool.
In Bhagarchap, we entered the traditional Tibetan gate and passed through the main street. We saw Marco exploring his port of call and stopped for just a second to say hello. It was another short walk to Danaque, and as we were walking into the village, we came upon a group of Nepalis. Two of the men were trekking, and the other two were serving as porters. Although the trekkers didn't speak a lot of English, one of them was able to tell me that he was a football coach in Pokhara, and he's hiked the Annapurna Circuit four times. When I told him that we planned to stay overnight in Temang, he told me that we had another hour of hiking left, and most of it is up a steep hill. He told me that his group was headed for Chame tonight, another three hours' walk.
Danaque is a sprawling village with many guesthouses, and at the other end of town, Ankit, Joshua, and I stopped for a little rest while the Nepali group plowed on. After nearly seven hours of hiking, our feet and shoulders were aching, and I could tell that Ankit was questioning whether or not he really wanted to continue hiking with us. We had just finished having a conversation about the differences between Brits and Americans, and Joshua had given his theory: the Brits are about 200 years ahead of the Americans. Whereas the Americans are busy trying to be the most economically and politically powerful nation and concerned with fierce competition and winning, the Brits can't be bothered. They've been there, tried that, and it didn't go so well. Now, they're content to have a cup of tea and have little thinks, and just generally observe us make massive mistakes. So, while Americans are busy making plans, working like fiends, making snap decisions, and forming goals, the Brits are happier to 'go with the flow' and see what the day has to offer.
Of course, this is a crass over-generalization, but we had Ankit in stitches, laughing and agreeing that this was the difference. We joked that perhaps this was one of the reasons that we've got on so well with the English travellers that we've met: Joshua is very proactive and great at making plans and leading, and our British friends have been quite content to follow along. After three days in Kathmandu, neither Scott nor Stephen had any idea what our guest house was called, much less it's location. Having followed Joshua around the city, there had been no need to memorize their surroundings. One night, they had decided to head back to the guest house without Joshua, and then they had returned 45 minutes later, realizing they hadn't a clue where they were.
Anyway, we'd just finished talking and laughing about these differences, and I think it occured to Ankit that it was these very same differences that were about to cause him a great deal of pain in the form of an hour long walk up a really big hill.
We plodded on, determined to get to Temang. The hill was, indeed, steep, and our place slowed considerably. Ankit looked pissed. After a while, we caught up with the Nepali group again, and when they paused for a break, I went off ahead of them. At the top of the hill, I was quite a ways ahead of Joshua and Ankit, so I stopped to sit, rest, and wait for them to catch up. When they crested the hill, both of them were smiling and laughing, and I felt a bit relieved that we hadn't managed to totally estrange our new-found friend. As they approached me, they said, 'how's it going, Chairman Mao?'
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It's a long running joke between Joshua and I that I'm a bit of a tyrant when it comes to exercise. I have been known - on occasion - to lead us very long, grueling hikes and bike rides. It's what I do.
We paused for a break, and I told Ankit that I was relieved to see him smiling. Joshua accused him of erupting into giggles half-way up the hill, and Ankit confessed that, all of a sudden, his plodding, baby-like steps had seemed very, very funny to him. When we continued walking, we all became a bit delirious, and there were extended recitations of Monty Python and songs in silly voices. The path pitched upwards once again, but we'd already left our bad moods behind, and now it just seemed funny. We made the last push up and over the hill, and finally, we saw the guest houses of Temang.
In the Lonely Planet guide, the writers say that Temang is not often used as an overnight stop for trekkers, but that if we were so inclined, we would be treated to the most fantastic views. This is true. On one side of the valley, we can see deep, craggy mountains with the light playing across them. In the late afternoon sun, they were glowing and lovely. To the left, the mountains rise up to a wide, snow-tipped saddle. Behind us, even snowier mountains peak out from behind forested hills, and as the sun set, we watched them first glow white, then pink, then grey-blue.
The air is cold, and as soon as we got to Prasanna Hotel, we got out our hats and jackets to ward off the chill. Up on the rooftop, we watched the sun set and the mountains turn colors. We drank tea and laughed, and then we ordered some dinner. Sitting inside the dining room to escape the colder temperatures, we met some other trekkers from Mexico, Spain, and France. We all agreed that the climb from Danaque to Temang had been difficult. We also agreed that it had been worth it. While the couple from Mexico recommended some places to go in Central and South America - Colombia, Bolivia, Northern Chile, and Nicaragua - the guest house keeper served us pizzas and momos. We inhaled them all, and still hungry, Joshua and Ankit ordered pumpkin soup, a specialty at this elevation.
For the rest of the night, we talked about good music and funny movies, and around 7:30, we began to yawn. Our bodies have already become accustomed to an early bedtime, and after we had put in our order for breakfast, we turned into our rooms.
October 23, 2010
We woke up a little before seven to pack up our bags. Outside, we sat under a covered table and admired the sun lighting up the mountains and rice fields. All around us, marigolds and hibiscus brightened the garden, and it felt a bit like a tropical island.
While Joshua and Ankit munched on muesli, I had my favorite: banana pancake. Back in the rooms, the Israeli couple were having a hard time getting out of bed, and the guest house keeper served them breakfast in bed. Their porter stood near their door, seeming anxious. Are they going to make it?
After breakfast, we brushed our teeth and paid. As we left their lovely garden, we waved and called out 'thank you' in Nepali.
Past Naddi, we walked through a couple other small villages with guest houses. Young children were playing soccer in the street, and as we passed by, they clapped their hands together and shouted, 'Namaste!' Beyond the giggling, squealing children, chickens pecked at the dirt and fluttered their butt feathers. Baby chicks foraged for worms and left-over scraps, and baby goats toddled on their too-big-legs. Huts with kitchens inside were burning woodstoves and cooking, and the air smelled of woodsmoke.
Crossing a suspension bridge, Ankit filmed us swaying high above the river, and on the other side, we began to climb through groves of bamboo. As we continued to climb, it got warmer and warmer, and by the time we reached the top, we were all very sweaty. Ankit bought a couple small, green oranges, and we ate them as we walked.
This place is unlike any other I've ever seen. The mountains are tall and covered in bamboo and rice. the villages are sweet and small, and children play in the street. Donkeys travel in trains, and deep in the valley, a river rushes through. When we crest the hill or the trees break, we pause to take it all in.
when we're not walking with our jaws unhinged, we're talking about whether or not we believe in things like ghosts, astrology, coincidence, or fate. We wonder if mental illness might be a sensitivity to the world unseen, and if those who are afflicted or gifted - depending - might become paranoid or overwhelmed from constantly having to confront reality and defend the things they've seen. We talk about the best meals of our lives, and where we might go if we knew it was the end of the world. we talk about who we might like to spend it with.
Under a big rock overhang, we stop to eat some bread, yak cheese, and cookies. The view is spectacular. Across the river, there are waterfalls dropping from incredible heights, and the mountain sides are covered in rustling green things. Another swinging bridge beckons us from around the bend.
We continue walking, and I tell Joshua and Ankit about what Kyle said about fasting. Although I've previously denounced this practice (in this very blog, in fact), Kyle had some really interesting things to say about his experiences. If you think about it, he says, our bodies evolved to go through short periods of fasting when food wasn't available. Similarly, animals that are sick will often go off to hide and not eat for a couple of days until they are feeling better. There are a couple of reasons for this: first of all, the process of digestion uses up about one third of all the calories we consume. If we spend a day or two not eating, we free up our bodies' energy to deal with other things. Second, when our bodies are not being given fuel, they begin to cannibalize. As a matter of self-preservation, the first cells that our bodies cannibalize are the sick or diseased ones, and therefore, fasting is an excellent way to devote our bodies' energies into purging toxins. At the top of the food chain, we are most at-risk for bio-accumulation because we eat the plants and animals that carry chemicals in their bodies. That's why fasting is even more important for humans.
I found this all very interesting, and it explained a story that I had heard about one of Ruth and Paul's friends. An older man, Ruth and Paul's friend was fairly overweight and suffering from cancer. Everyone was very concerned that he might die relatively soon, but his daughter did a bunch of research and came up with a diet for him. Here's where it gets kind of funny: it wasn't really a diet at all. The 'diet' was a 30 day fast.
Now, if you're like me, you probably believe that if a human were to go without food for 30 days, they would die. Apparently, this is not so. The man went on a 30 day diet, and when he had finished, he became a vegan. He lost a ton of weight, and his cancer went into remission. Going by the reasoning Kyle provided, his body had cannibalized his diseased cells. Isn't that bizarre?
We crossed another suspension bridge and passed through the small village on Syange. As the sun beat down on our backs, we continued walking towards Jagat. The road pitched upwards, and after a while, we were climbing switchbacks. Eventually, we arrived. Jagat means 'toll station' in Tibetan, and apparently, this place served as a stop on the salt-trade road. Lots of people stop here overnight, but we decided to forge on to the Super Rainbow View Guest House, about an hour away.
At first, the trek out of town wasn't so bad, but after a while, the path turned further inland, we we began climbing up and up and up... We all grew a little tired, and when we sat down to rest, we watched an impressive Nepali man carrying four pieces of timber on his back as he plodded up the hillside.
We crossed a few waterfalls (which, after Stacy told me that waterfalls have negatively charged ions that are proven to release serotonin in the brain and make people happy, I call 'Happy Water'), and finally, we saw our guest house opposite the most spectacular waterfall. Slumping in relief, we asked the woman if she had any open rooms, and she sadly shook her head.
Absolutely disappointed, we continued on. It was only 10 minutes further to Chamje, but Super Rainbow View had looked so beautiful and we were so, so hungry.
Finally, we arrived at the Tibet Guest House. The owner walked us up to his rooms, we agreed on 100 rupees per person, and then we collapsed. Ankit rushed off to secure the Coca Cola that he had been craving, and although it was only 3:45, we ordered three Dal Bhaats, stat.
Before the Dal Bhaats came, I went downstairs to take a shower. Most of the guest houses here use solar water heaters, and although the water wasn't steaming, it was warm, and it felt nice to get clean. I quickly changed, and by the time I was back at the table, the Dal Bhaat was ready.
Dal Bhaat consists of a huge plate of rice, a bowl of soupy, savory lentils, and a side of vegetables. In this case, the vegetables were a spicy potato mix, and we devoured the whole plate within minutes. We requested seconds. And thirds.
Somewhere along the way, we also met another trekker, an Italian by the name of Marco. Marco's English was pretty hard to understand, and he found our English equally difficult, but we managed to discover that he is from Verona, he just earned his Ph.D. in Environmental Microbiology, and he loves trekking in the Alps. He taught us how to say Good Night, Sleep Well and Sweet Dreams in Italian (excuse my phoenetic misspellings: Buen Note, Dorme Bene, and Sonya Dorro).
Once we had finished our Dal Bhaat, we sipped our tea and watched the sky turn dark. Joshua ordered a Snickers, which we all shared, and then we looked through the menu to order tomorrow's breakfast. Joshua looked at how much his Snickers had cost and discovered that it was listed for 240 rupees (three dollars), the most expensive candy bar he's ever purchased.
At 7:30, we sheepishly admitted that we were absolutely exhausted and wished Marco Dorme Bene, Sonya Dorro (or something like that). We read a few pages before our eyes started drifting shut, and then we shut off the lights.
At 7, Marco, Ankit, Joshua and I sat down for a big breakfast. Determined not to hike hungry, Joshua ordered a banana pancake and muesli with apples while I ordered a huge plate of fried vegetables and potatoes with egg and cheese. We drank a pot of tea between the two of us, and by 8, we had eaten, packed the last of our things, paid, and hit the road.
The guest house keeper sent his nephew with us, and although the young boy seemed initially irritated with his oversize, Westerner babysitters, he warmed up after a few minutes and introduced himself as Vevek. Vevek lives in Tal, and his uncle was worried about him making the hiking on his own.
The two hour hike from Chamje to Tal first crosses the river and then climbs up. Waterfalls cascade down cliff-faces and mountains on either side, and below, the river rushes frantically over boulders and around turns. The trail begins with a gradual climb and then steepens in earnest. While Joshua and Ankit chatted, I walked ahead and sung hymns. The only lyrics I ever remember are hymns.
Cresting a hill, we could see Tal below. Sitting next to the sprawling river in a wide valley, Lonely Planet calls Tal the Annapurna's 'Wild West.' With its wide, dirt streets and wooden buildings, I guess I can see where they're coming from. Descending into the valley, I admired the milky water rushing over the flat, pebbled ground. This place is beautiful.
In Tal, we said goodbye to Vevek and filled up our water bottles at a ACAP Water Station. There are a number of these all around the Circuit, and they sell boiled and filtered water for a reasonable price. Their goal is to cut down on plastic water bottles, and we're all for it.
Heading out of Tal, we walked along the river's edge for a while, and then we crossed another swinging suspension bridge to the other side. As we again climbed up, we passed dozens of porters heading in the opposite direction. These men are unbelievable. They carry upwards of 70 pounds each, and their big baskets and crates have a strap that loops up over their foreheads. All of the men have small builds, and yet, they are able to carry the most incredible loads.
Watching these men labor down the path in flip flops, we had mixed feelings. On the one hand, porters are making money. There's a market for people to carry goods up and down the trail, and they've tapped into it. On the other hand, it seems a bit demeaning. Lots of the porters are carrying things like tables, kitchen wares, sleeping bags, tents, and people's surplus gear. These bags are so enormous and heavy, and I can't help but wonder if it's all really necessary. Between Joshua and I, we have 83 liters worth of space in our packs. They're full, but we've been discerning about the things we chose to carry, and I seriously doubt that carrying more stuff would improve our Circuit experience. We have everything we need, and what we don't have, we can easily find along the trail: food, lodging, good views, and wonderful company.
Along the way, we also encounter dozens of donkey trains. Some of the donkeys carry nothing but their saddles, but others are carrying huge barrels of water, fuel, or packs of food. All of them have bells that sound with each step. We move to the side to let them by, and they bob their heads as they descend. At the back of the train, a herder tuts and yells, and when he sees us, he smiles and says, 'Namaste.'
After Tal, we catch up with a group of young Trekkers from Israel and Canada. We smile and say hello, but they're deep in conversation, so we leave them behind. At one point, the trail passes through a waterfall, and when I stop to feel the breeze, I look behind at Joshua's grinning face and Ankit filming.
A little while later, we come to another swinging bridge, and on the other side, we enter Karte. Surrounded by cliff walls and gardens, this sweet little town has a couple guest houses, and more importantly, restaurants. Although we prefer not to eat at a restaurant three times a day, the selection for over-the-counter food is mostly packaged, and we dislike the idea of creating more waste. Plus, most of the packaged food also happens to be junk food, so we decided to stop at a restaurant and ask them what was quickest and easiest for them to make. They said fried rice.
Sitting in the shade, we waited for our rice and pulled out our maps. Ankit has a little leaflet with a graph that charts the distance traveled, the amount of time it should take to travel it, and the elevation of each village. So far, we've hiked for four hours today, and judging by the chart, we have a little more than three hours until we get to Temang.
The plates of fried rice come, and in less than ten minutes, we've polished them off. Paying quickly, we load on our backpacks, and we continue on the trail. In all, our lunch stop lasted 35 minutes. The food tasted great, we didn't create any waste, and we didn't loose a lot of time.
From Karte, we walked to Dharapani. We talked about whether or not we feel homesick, and the sort of things we feel homesick for. Is it family? A place? A feeling?
In Dharapani, we checked in with the APAC, showing them our trekking permits, and we ran into the young group of Israelis and Canadians again. It didn't take long to sign in, and once we had finished, we continued on to Bhagarchap. Although we had started the day in mountains with bamboo, rice, and other jungle-like growth, the ground cover began to change, and all of sudden, we were surrounded by mountains with evergreens. In the distance, we could see snow-capped mountains, and the air began to cool.
In Bhagarchap, we entered the traditional Tibetan gate and passed through the main street. We saw Marco exploring his port of call and stopped for just a second to say hello. It was another short walk to Danaque, and as we were walking into the village, we came upon a group of Nepalis. Two of the men were trekking, and the other two were serving as porters. Although the trekkers didn't speak a lot of English, one of them was able to tell me that he was a football coach in Pokhara, and he's hiked the Annapurna Circuit four times. When I told him that we planned to stay overnight in Temang, he told me that we had another hour of hiking left, and most of it is up a steep hill. He told me that his group was headed for Chame tonight, another three hours' walk.
Danaque is a sprawling village with many guesthouses, and at the other end of town, Ankit, Joshua, and I stopped for a little rest while the Nepali group plowed on. After nearly seven hours of hiking, our feet and shoulders were aching, and I could tell that Ankit was questioning whether or not he really wanted to continue hiking with us. We had just finished having a conversation about the differences between Brits and Americans, and Joshua had given his theory: the Brits are about 200 years ahead of the Americans. Whereas the Americans are busy trying to be the most economically and politically powerful nation and concerned with fierce competition and winning, the Brits can't be bothered. They've been there, tried that, and it didn't go so well. Now, they're content to have a cup of tea and have little thinks, and just generally observe us make massive mistakes. So, while Americans are busy making plans, working like fiends, making snap decisions, and forming goals, the Brits are happier to 'go with the flow' and see what the day has to offer.
Of course, this is a crass over-generalization, but we had Ankit in stitches, laughing and agreeing that this was the difference. We joked that perhaps this was one of the reasons that we've got on so well with the English travellers that we've met: Joshua is very proactive and great at making plans and leading, and our British friends have been quite content to follow along. After three days in Kathmandu, neither Scott nor Stephen had any idea what our guest house was called, much less it's location. Having followed Joshua around the city, there had been no need to memorize their surroundings. One night, they had decided to head back to the guest house without Joshua, and then they had returned 45 minutes later, realizing they hadn't a clue where they were.
Anyway, we'd just finished talking and laughing about these differences, and I think it occured to Ankit that it was these very same differences that were about to cause him a great deal of pain in the form of an hour long walk up a really big hill.
We plodded on, determined to get to Temang. The hill was, indeed, steep, and our place slowed considerably. Ankit looked pissed. After a while, we caught up with the Nepali group again, and when they paused for a break, I went off ahead of them. At the top of the hill, I was quite a ways ahead of Joshua and Ankit, so I stopped to sit, rest, and wait for them to catch up. When they crested the hill, both of them were smiling and laughing, and I felt a bit relieved that we hadn't managed to totally estrange our new-found friend. As they approached me, they said, 'how's it going, Chairman Mao?'
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It's a long running joke between Joshua and I that I'm a bit of a tyrant when it comes to exercise. I have been known - on occasion - to lead us very long, grueling hikes and bike rides. It's what I do.
We paused for a break, and I told Ankit that I was relieved to see him smiling. Joshua accused him of erupting into giggles half-way up the hill, and Ankit confessed that, all of a sudden, his plodding, baby-like steps had seemed very, very funny to him. When we continued walking, we all became a bit delirious, and there were extended recitations of Monty Python and songs in silly voices. The path pitched upwards once again, but we'd already left our bad moods behind, and now it just seemed funny. We made the last push up and over the hill, and finally, we saw the guest houses of Temang.
In the Lonely Planet guide, the writers say that Temang is not often used as an overnight stop for trekkers, but that if we were so inclined, we would be treated to the most fantastic views. This is true. On one side of the valley, we can see deep, craggy mountains with the light playing across them. In the late afternoon sun, they were glowing and lovely. To the left, the mountains rise up to a wide, snow-tipped saddle. Behind us, even snowier mountains peak out from behind forested hills, and as the sun set, we watched them first glow white, then pink, then grey-blue.
The air is cold, and as soon as we got to Prasanna Hotel, we got out our hats and jackets to ward off the chill. Up on the rooftop, we watched the sun set and the mountains turn colors. We drank tea and laughed, and then we ordered some dinner. Sitting inside the dining room to escape the colder temperatures, we met some other trekkers from Mexico, Spain, and France. We all agreed that the climb from Danaque to Temang had been difficult. We also agreed that it had been worth it. While the couple from Mexico recommended some places to go in Central and South America - Colombia, Bolivia, Northern Chile, and Nicaragua - the guest house keeper served us pizzas and momos. We inhaled them all, and still hungry, Joshua and Ankit ordered pumpkin soup, a specialty at this elevation.
For the rest of the night, we talked about good music and funny movies, and around 7:30, we began to yawn. Our bodies have already become accustomed to an early bedtime, and after we had put in our order for breakfast, we turned into our rooms.
October 23, 2010
We woke up a little before seven to pack up our bags. Outside, we sat under a covered table and admired the sun lighting up the mountains and rice fields. All around us, marigolds and hibiscus brightened the garden, and it felt a bit like a tropical island.
While Joshua and Ankit munched on muesli, I had my favorite: banana pancake. Back in the rooms, the Israeli couple were having a hard time getting out of bed, and the guest house keeper served them breakfast in bed. Their porter stood near their door, seeming anxious. Are they going to make it?
After breakfast, we brushed our teeth and paid. As we left their lovely garden, we waved and called out 'thank you' in Nepali.
Past Naddi, we walked through a couple other small villages with guest houses. Young children were playing soccer in the street, and as we passed by, they clapped their hands together and shouted, 'Namaste!' Beyond the giggling, squealing children, chickens pecked at the dirt and fluttered their butt feathers. Baby chicks foraged for worms and left-over scraps, and baby goats toddled on their too-big-legs. Huts with kitchens inside were burning woodstoves and cooking, and the air smelled of woodsmoke.
Crossing a suspension bridge, Ankit filmed us swaying high above the river, and on the other side, we began to climb through groves of bamboo. As we continued to climb, it got warmer and warmer, and by the time we reached the top, we were all very sweaty. Ankit bought a couple small, green oranges, and we ate them as we walked.
This place is unlike any other I've ever seen. The mountains are tall and covered in bamboo and rice. the villages are sweet and small, and children play in the street. Donkeys travel in trains, and deep in the valley, a river rushes through. When we crest the hill or the trees break, we pause to take it all in.
when we're not walking with our jaws unhinged, we're talking about whether or not we believe in things like ghosts, astrology, coincidence, or fate. We wonder if mental illness might be a sensitivity to the world unseen, and if those who are afflicted or gifted - depending - might become paranoid or overwhelmed from constantly having to confront reality and defend the things they've seen. We talk about the best meals of our lives, and where we might go if we knew it was the end of the world. we talk about who we might like to spend it with.
Under a big rock overhang, we stop to eat some bread, yak cheese, and cookies. The view is spectacular. Across the river, there are waterfalls dropping from incredible heights, and the mountain sides are covered in rustling green things. Another swinging bridge beckons us from around the bend.
We continue walking, and I tell Joshua and Ankit about what Kyle said about fasting. Although I've previously denounced this practice (in this very blog, in fact), Kyle had some really interesting things to say about his experiences. If you think about it, he says, our bodies evolved to go through short periods of fasting when food wasn't available. Similarly, animals that are sick will often go off to hide and not eat for a couple of days until they are feeling better. There are a couple of reasons for this: first of all, the process of digestion uses up about one third of all the calories we consume. If we spend a day or two not eating, we free up our bodies' energy to deal with other things. Second, when our bodies are not being given fuel, they begin to cannibalize. As a matter of self-preservation, the first cells that our bodies cannibalize are the sick or diseased ones, and therefore, fasting is an excellent way to devote our bodies' energies into purging toxins. At the top of the food chain, we are most at-risk for bio-accumulation because we eat the plants and animals that carry chemicals in their bodies. That's why fasting is even more important for humans.
I found this all very interesting, and it explained a story that I had heard about one of Ruth and Paul's friends. An older man, Ruth and Paul's friend was fairly overweight and suffering from cancer. Everyone was very concerned that he might die relatively soon, but his daughter did a bunch of research and came up with a diet for him. Here's where it gets kind of funny: it wasn't really a diet at all. The 'diet' was a 30 day fast.
Now, if you're like me, you probably believe that if a human were to go without food for 30 days, they would die. Apparently, this is not so. The man went on a 30 day diet, and when he had finished, he became a vegan. He lost a ton of weight, and his cancer went into remission. Going by the reasoning Kyle provided, his body had cannibalized his diseased cells. Isn't that bizarre?
We crossed another suspension bridge and passed through the small village on Syange. As the sun beat down on our backs, we continued walking towards Jagat. The road pitched upwards, and after a while, we were climbing switchbacks. Eventually, we arrived. Jagat means 'toll station' in Tibetan, and apparently, this place served as a stop on the salt-trade road. Lots of people stop here overnight, but we decided to forge on to the Super Rainbow View Guest House, about an hour away.
At first, the trek out of town wasn't so bad, but after a while, the path turned further inland, we we began climbing up and up and up... We all grew a little tired, and when we sat down to rest, we watched an impressive Nepali man carrying four pieces of timber on his back as he plodded up the hillside.
We crossed a few waterfalls (which, after Stacy told me that waterfalls have negatively charged ions that are proven to release serotonin in the brain and make people happy, I call 'Happy Water'), and finally, we saw our guest house opposite the most spectacular waterfall. Slumping in relief, we asked the woman if she had any open rooms, and she sadly shook her head.
Absolutely disappointed, we continued on. It was only 10 minutes further to Chamje, but Super Rainbow View had looked so beautiful and we were so, so hungry.
Finally, we arrived at the Tibet Guest House. The owner walked us up to his rooms, we agreed on 100 rupees per person, and then we collapsed. Ankit rushed off to secure the Coca Cola that he had been craving, and although it was only 3:45, we ordered three Dal Bhaats, stat.
Before the Dal Bhaats came, I went downstairs to take a shower. Most of the guest houses here use solar water heaters, and although the water wasn't steaming, it was warm, and it felt nice to get clean. I quickly changed, and by the time I was back at the table, the Dal Bhaat was ready.
Dal Bhaat consists of a huge plate of rice, a bowl of soupy, savory lentils, and a side of vegetables. In this case, the vegetables were a spicy potato mix, and we devoured the whole plate within minutes. We requested seconds. And thirds.
Somewhere along the way, we also met another trekker, an Italian by the name of Marco. Marco's English was pretty hard to understand, and he found our English equally difficult, but we managed to discover that he is from Verona, he just earned his Ph.D. in Environmental Microbiology, and he loves trekking in the Alps. He taught us how to say Good Night, Sleep Well and Sweet Dreams in Italian (excuse my phoenetic misspellings: Buen Note, Dorme Bene, and Sonya Dorro).
Once we had finished our Dal Bhaat, we sipped our tea and watched the sky turn dark. Joshua ordered a Snickers, which we all shared, and then we looked through the menu to order tomorrow's breakfast. Joshua looked at how much his Snickers had cost and discovered that it was listed for 240 rupees (three dollars), the most expensive candy bar he's ever purchased.
At 7:30, we sheepishly admitted that we were absolutely exhausted and wished Marco Dorme Bene, Sonya Dorro (or something like that). We read a few pages before our eyes started drifting shut, and then we shut off the lights.
Rafting on the Kali Gandaki
October 22, 2010
This morning we woke up at 5:30 AM to finish packing up our last things, store our bags with the hotel keeper, and walk to the bus station. It took us a few minutes to finally roll out of bed, so after we had walked a few blocks, we took a taxi to save some time.
At the bus station, we each bought a croissant from the eager young boys selling pastries, and then we sat on the fence, munching on hot bread and feeling that particular I-woke-up-too-early-and-now-I-have-a-bit-of-a-tummy-ache feel.
On the bus, we crammed into the too-small seats and waited for the other seats to fill up. By 6:45, we were on our way.
The bus ride from Pokhara to Besi Sahar takes about 5 hours, and it costs a little less than 200 rupees per person. The bus is smaller than some of the others we've taken, and it's filled with a mix of tourists and locals. Sitting behind us, we met a woman named Frith from New Zealand, and a man named Ankit from London.
To combat motion sickness, I took a homeopathic remedy Stacy had given me, and it seemed to work really well for the first few hours. Talking with Frith and Ankit, I heard about Frith's adventures trekking in Mongolia and living in Christchurch, and Ankit's job teaching children about the outdoors in Thailand. Ankit had also spent about a month in Dharamkot just before we had gotten there, and he had taken a 10 day Meditation course at Tushita. Although he hadn't really known why he was interested in meditation, the course turned out to be amazing, and the group of people he had attended it with had all had really positive, incredible experiences. Apparently, a lot of the meditations brought up a lot of old memories and people had begun to work through them.
Frith's a doctor just about to enter her residency, and Ankit has been traveling and working since he graduated from Manchester with a degree in Environmental Science in 2001. They were both very friendly, and as we the bus moved along, I thought about how lucky we've been to meet so many wonderful people as we've been traveling. When I told Ankit about our farm, he seemed both shocked and excited, and he confessed that he has a similar dream.
The last hour before we reached Besi Sahar, the homeopathic remedy couldn't quite cut it. By the time we arrived, I was feeling very woozy indeed. Frith went off to line up her mountaineering plans, and Ankit, Joshua, and I headed out of town on the dirt road headed for Bhulebule.
As we walked, Ankit told us a little bit about his family, who are originally from India, moved to London, raised him and his brother, and then moved back to India. He told us about living and working in New Zealand for year, finding work in London, traveling in India for a few months, traveling in Australia for a few more, and then finding work Thailand. I asked him more about the meditation course, and then we all got to talking about religion. Ankit doesn't know a lot about Christianity, but he did have a few questions, and we tried to answer them as fairly and knowledgeably as possible. In the end, we agreed that dogma and practice often look completely different, and most religions have really beautiful, compassionate people who have managed to take the good, leave the bad, and build something amazing. And, of course, there are the communities, which all of us envy.
We arrived in Bhulebule before we knew it, and the bus pulled in right as we did. It had taken us the same amount of time to walk it as it had taken some of the other tourists to wait for the bus and then ride it. We felt satisfied with our decisions, and I felt particularly thankful when I saw a few tourists clutching their stomachs.
Crossing a swinging bridge above a beautiful, rushing river, we passed a donkey train and walked through another small village on the opposite side of the stream. Little children ran up to us, asking for 'chocolates? Candy? School pens?' And we shook our heads and said, 'Namaste!'
Walking along the river, we entered another deep, gorgeous valley, and we passed a number of waterfalls along the way. At one point, we were barracaded by a group of young girls that sang and danced for us, and for their efforts, I gave them 10 rupees. One of them held my hand as she said thank you.
After just three hours and forty-five minutes of hiking, we arrived in upper Nadi. Ankit requested a guest house that looked 'Hobbit-en,' and we found Seasonal Lodge and Sore Back Restaurant. The rooms have mud floors, mosquito nets, and bambo walls, and outside, there are trellises, thatch-shade tables, and plenty of lovely orange and pink flowers.
Unloading our packs, Joshua and I headed into the little village to purchase a pair of cheap, light flipflops for me (100 rupees), and while we were there, we also picked up 250 grams of yak cheese.
Back at the guest house, a little boy, Taman, led us through brush and rice paddies to the river were we sat for a bit and cooled off our feet. When we walked back, we ordered Dal Bhaat with Ankit, and then we sat down to read and write.
For dinner, we ate to our hearts content and chatted with an Israeli couple and Ankit. Like Eshai and Hadas, these two are on their honeymoon, but they seemed a bit surprised that traveling is not at all like holiday (actually, the woman looked a bit pissed).
After the sun set, we headed off to our rooms, and now, I'm scrambling to catch up on my writing. We've been so social the past couple of weeks, I've barely had time to write!
October 21, 2010
The next morning, we took it easy. My stomach was still pulling all sorts of stunts, and Joshua had to finish up his application to law enforcement training. In the mean time, Stacy and Kyle went to go have breakfast with Julian and Carla.
Once Joshua had finished his essays, I did a little editing, and then we set off for the Immigration Office to get a 15 day extension on our Nepali visas. It took about 20 minutes to walk there from our hotel, and when we got there, there wasn't even a line. We sat down, filled out a page of paper work, gave the man our passport, a photo, and some money, and they gave us our extension. It took about 10 minutes.
Back in Pokhara, we met up with Kyle and Stacy and checked out a couple of the tattoo parlors. I know what you're thinking, but no, the tattoo investigation wasn't just for me. Joshua's actually been seriously considering a little ink, and we needed to see what Pokhara had to offer.
Like the parlors in Kathmandu, all of the artists used new needles and gloves (the men looked at me as though I was demented when I asked them. They told me that they were insulted that I had even asked.). They looked fine, but their portfolios were pretty traditional. After the second parlor, I told Joshua that I didn't think we should do it; none of the artists seemed to have very much experience with 'artsy' tattoos.
Joshua hopped into the UPS store to mail off his application materials while Stacy, Kyle, and I wandered in and out of outdoor shops. I stocked up on meds for the trek (sunscreen, Cipro, Diamoxin, and Advil) and bought some last minute supplies like headlamps, trekking poles for Joshua, and sunglasses for me (I'm really, really going to try to not loose these ones.).
After a bit of running around, we had everything we needed (we hope), and we went back to the hotel to unload our stuff, have another painful visit with the restroom, and gather our things for a little boat ride.
Before we headed out, we stopped at a Tibetan restaurant and ordered a feast. Seriously. We filled our table with Thukpa, Tingmo, Curried Vegetables, Spring Rolls, Momos, Chowmein, and Lassis, and then we ate until we were absolutely stuffed. There was so much food, and we had probably nine lassis between the four of us, the final bill came out to only 700 rupees (that's ten dollars). The food was great.
In Pokhara, you can rent a paddle boat for 250 rupees an hour. We took one out for two hours, and during that time, we went no where in particular. There was a little island with a temple that we puttered around, but mostly we drifted and paddled aimlessly while we talked and laughed. It's so good to be with friends.
When the sun started to set, we pulled ashore, paid, and headed into town, looking for stamps to send off our postcards. In one shop, I spied the perfect gift for Yvonne and Dave, and Joshua drove a mean bargain. He was incredible, and we came out with the gift in hand.
Stephen met up with us, and after we picked up our photos from Paddle Nepal, we went into Almond's Cafe to meet up with Shelby, Cory, and Gemma. Joshua and I weren't too hungry, so we just ordered appetizers (Chilly Momos and Vegetable Pakora).
At one point during our conversation, Kyle told us that he 'sprouts.' I'd never encountered this term before, and always fascinated by Kyle's healthy food kicks, I asked him for more details. Apparently, you can 'sprout' lots of things. He specializes in lentils and buckwheat, but you can also sprout quinoa and mung beans. Anyway, you soak the grain or bean for a few hours, and then you drain the water. Keep it in a cool place for the next couple of days, thoroughly rinsing them twice a day. After two or three days, they'll germinate, and viola! You'll have sprouted beans or grains. Kyle says that they are one of the most complete foods, and they're extremely high in protein, low in calories, and very, very good for you.
Midway through this explanation, Shelby leaned over and exclaimed, 'you sprout?!' Kyle and Shelby shared a bonding moment, and I realized that there was a whole food revolution I had never heard anything about. I guess once you've sprouted, you either eat the sprouts whole and plain, or you can put them in salads. Kyle dehydrates his sprouted buckwheat and eats it like cereal. Next, they got to talking about their next goal: fermentation. Kyle wants to learn how to make kimchi and all sorts of fermented vegetables. Shelby got particularly animated when they started talking about their juicers, and after Kyle described a particular concoction made of fennel, chard, broccoli stem, and carrot juice, Stacy helpfully added, 'yeah, and sometimes, they even taste good!' Which made us all crack up.
Once we had finished eating, we paid and said goodbye. Stephen went off with Shelby, Cory, and Gemma for a drink, and Kyle and Stacy walked back to the hotel with us where we all said goodbye and agreed that we had had the most wonderful time. Another trip is already in the making.
Back in the room, we packed up and tried to whittle down our Annapurna packs to the very bare minimum. Tomorrow, we leave for Besi Sahar!
October 20, 2010
On our last day of the rafting trip, we woke up early and ate a breakfast of thin pancakes and eggs. By now, I'm absolutely in love with Indian and Nepali pancakes: they're crispy on the outside, thin, and delicious. Yum yum.
After breakfast, we broke camp, and back in the raft, we cruised through the last three rapids. Aloo managed to tip us once more, and this time, I was trapped under the raft for quite a while before I was able to free myself. When I did, I was sputtering and shaken, but the water was so refreshing and the waves were so fun, I quickly got over it and just enjoyed floating down the river with my feet sticking up and my life jacket supporting me. On either side of the river, rice paddy farms striped the hillsides and the sky was spectacularly blue. There were more and more farms, and people ran up to the shore, waving and shouting 'Namaste!'
After the last stretch of rapids, we swam for a bit and performed a few tricks with the raft. Tip generously let us try his kayak, and as I paddled about, I asked Amy about how I could get a kayak back in the States. It looks like so much fun :)
About two hours of paddling later, we turned onto a warmer, bluer side stream, and Aloo told us to all hop out and swim the last couple hundred meters to shore. We raced and floated, and when we arrived on land, we got out a little sadly. After so much fun, it's hard to leave the water.
Once again, we helped unload and carry all the rafts up to the bus. At the top, we changed into dry clothes and repacked our bags. For lunch, we crowded into a shady spot while we ate more beans, bread, and coleslaw. In the mean time, dozens of small children carrying individual bottles of pop came up and offered us drinks for 'a good price.' I watched them all interact, and I was fascinated to discover that I could pick out the leader, his sidekick, and the scapegoats right away. Apparently, I did learn something from teaching.
After lunch, we loaded onto the bus and began the long five hour bus ride home. To pass the time and avoid motion sickness, I mostly snoozed or gazed out the window, watching the green mountains pass by my window. Unfortunately, I was unable to avoid all the symptoms of motion sickness, and by the time we arrived back in Pokhara at 6 o'clock, I was feeling pretty crappy.
Gathering our stuff, we walked back to the Karma Guesthouse with plans to meet back up at Paddle Nepal in an hour. At Karma, we discovered that all the rooms were taken, so once we had retrieved our bags, we followed one of the hotel keeper's friends to another guesthouse up the road, Snow Leopard Hotel.
Dumping our packs, we quickly showered and changed, and I swiftly realized that my intestines were not happy campers. At first, I was pretty sure that I would have to skip dinner, but the intense cramping subsided, and I was finally able to stand upright.
Back at Paddle Nepal, we found the group and walked to the Elegant View Restaurant where we ordered food and chatted. I went for Vegetable Chowmein and Joshua had some more Palak Paneer. While we ate, the lightening and thunder gave way to a torrential downpour, but it was finished by the time we all said goodbye and parted ways.
Walking back to the guest house, Kyle, Stacy, Joshua, and I agreed that we had had the most incredible time, and we felt so lucky to have been able to meet up halfway across the world and spend a few days together. We love you Stacy and Kyle!
October 19, 2010
We woke up to tea and a hearty breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and toast. Once we had eaten, we packed up our bags and helped load up all the rafts. Within a couple of hours, we were back on the boat.
As the seven of us settled on our raft, we saw Rajoo, our guide from yesterday, exchange a few words with Aloo, the trip leader. Rajoo went off to guide the raft Aloo had led yesterday, and Aloo headed towards ours. We all exchanged worried glances, and a couple of us joked that we had been disowned.
Aloo pushed us off into the river right away. He began an immediate program of whipping us into shape. 'Paddle harder! Harder! No! All together! Must paddle harder!' We all frantically dug our paddles into the water as Aloo directed the boat upstream, against the incredibly fast current.
Finally, Aloo relented, and we all took deep gasps of air, already winded. He steered us towards a calm eddy, and we watched as the other boats pushed off shore. He nodded in approval at one boat's beautiful paddlestroke and power, 'very good,' he said, pointing so that everyone could see.
Having seen the model, we were determined to prove ourselves to Aloo. Hitting the first rapid running, we followed his every demand with More Power! Within thirty minutes, my arms were already aching.
Before long, Aloo began to tell us to 'all move right!' At first, we weren't sure what he meant, but then he demonstrated that he wanted us all to crowd and lean over the right hand side of the boat. The first time he gave us the direction, we failed miserably, and after we were on the other side of the rapid, he sternly lectured us.
On the next rapid, we resolved to do better, and when Aloo screamed, 'all right!' We flung ourselves right. At the same time, Aloo dipped our raft into a huge hole, and the raft pitched precariously towards us, threatening to dump us into the water. Still in one piece, we looked back at Aloo once we had passed through the rapid. 'You're trying to tip us!' Gemma said with surprise and sudden understanding. Aloo just smirked.
At the next rapid, we knew what we wanted. As soon as we hit a big swell and Aloo said, 'all right!' we dove to the other side, stretched our bodies out, and the heavy raft slapped over our heads. I came up beneath the raft, sputtering. The boat was still rushing down the river, and the rapids were still pitching us in every direction. I held onto my paddle tight, and with a breath of air, I submerged myself again, clawing for the air beyond the upturned raft. I eventually escaped, and when I did, I saw Aloo nimbling hopping up on the overturned boat, rescuing the other boat members, and gathering floating paddles. I floated a bit, and then another boat snatched me out of the water. I rode with them for a little while until Aloo had righted the boat and gathered some of the other rafters.
Back in the boat, we gasped and sputtered, sharing our experiences and generally reliving the thrill. Joshua had lost both of his flip flops, but otherwise, everyone was fully intact. Before long, we came to more rapids, and there, Cory and Kyle flew out of the boat. A couple kayakers rescued them and brought them back, and a few minutes later, Shelby was in the water too. One of Shelby's shoes was floating just out of reach, and when Stacy went to grab it, she plopped into the water too.
When we pulled onto a beach for lunch, we were all soaking wet and ridiculously happy. Kyle bolted off to use the bathroom, and the rest of us helped gather water for iodine treatment, drinking, and washing.
When Kyle came back, he seemed a little shaken. Apparently, he had scrambled up a tangled slope, and as soon as he had come to an open spot, he had taken care of his business. Finished, he stood up and realized he was in the middle of a rice paddy. All of a sudden, a five foot long, black snake slithered by. He stood paralyzed, and then he high-tailed it back to the beach. When he told the guides what he had seen, they told him it was probably a cobra.
For lunch, we ate baked beans, potato salad, and cole slaw, and afterwards, we cleaned up and then went to play in the river. Not too long later, we hopped back onto the rafts.
During the second half of the day, Aloo pulled all sorts of tricks, aiming for holes and swells, having us paddle the nose of the raft into sweeps of water that swamped the boat, and pretty much just trying to get us as wet as possible. We had a blast.
For the second campsite, we stopped at a wide sandy beach. The green, jungle-like mountains cupped the river and beach on either side, and as we set up camp, we admired the scenery. All day long, the river had cut a deep path through the mountains, and around every turn, we had been treated to spectacular views of plunging valleys, sheer cliff faces, beautiful swinging bridges, and smiling Nepali faces gathered on the shore or atop bridges to gawk and wave. The Kali Gandaki river valley is breathtaking. When we weren't shooting through rapids or recovering from stunts and tricks, we were watching everything around us with our jaws hanging open. This place is gorgeous.
While we hung around before dinner, we sat on the beach, admiring the view and talking. Kyle, Stacy, and I started talking about which element we thought best represented one another (a revival topic from one of my earlier posts), and then we started interviewing people to figure out their elements. Basically (as an answer to my prior question about what each element represents), we said that elements are archetypes, and therefore, we already have instincts and associations that tell us what they represent. For example, I associate phrases like 'down to Earth,' 'practical,' 'hard working,' and 'connected to the land' with the element Earth. For water, 'go with the flow,' 'adaptable,' and 'peaceful' come up, but the characteristics 'tumultuous,' and 'most powerful force of erosion' come to mind. Fire is easy. People associate passion, burning, and ferocity with fire, and to that, I add things like strong opinions and - occasionally - an inability to form safe boundaries. Wind is harder, but in the end, we said that that's one of wind's qualities: hard to pin down, always on the move, swift but sometimes slow, and usually focused in heading in the same direction.
Armed with better definitions, Joshua changed his mind about me. He now thinks I'm fire, and Stacy and Kyle agree. I guess I agree a little bit too. I still think I'm a lot of Earth. We went around the circle: Stacy is water, Kyle is air, we guessed that Shelby is both water and Earth, and Cory is wind. Gemma is definitely fire.
After a while, a few more people joined our group, and we got to talking about astrology and whether or not we believe in things like patterns, ghosts, and the paranormal. I told my now infamous ghost story about our time in Ecuador, and Kyle told us one of his experiences too. We debated about whether or not horoscopes or psychics had any ounce of truth to them, and whether or not we believed in ghosts. Cory, Kyle, and Shelby were skeptical, but Stacy and I held middle ground: were not true believers, but we're not willing to discount everything quite yet.
For dinner, we ate more pasta and veggies around a campfire, and when we had finished the guides came over and sang for us. Shelby and Cory knew one of the songs and told us that the traditional Nepali folk song translated into 'I am a donkey, you are a monkey' and basically talked about how they carry all our stuff and we act like monkeys.
A little subversive lyricism never hurt anyone, and we all enjoyed clapping hands and staring into the flames as we listened to them croon. After a bit, we headed to our sleeping bags and fell asleep under the stars.
October 18, 2010
We woke up early and picked up pastries on our way to Paddle Nepal. When we got there, the guides were loading the equipment and kayaks onto the bus, and we waited around for a few minutes while people gathered and the last of the equipment was lashed down to the roof.
To get to the beginning of our rafting trip, we rode in a classic Nepali bus: every inch of wall and ceiling was covered in color, mirrors, and decorative rivets, and the front of the bus looked like a club house. We stopped a few times for snacks and bathroom stops, and about three hours away from Pokhara, we drove past a small village and pulled into an even smaller dirt parking lot just a few steps away from the Kali Gandaki. Just before the bus stopped, we had our closest call yet. Rounding a precarious and tight bend, the bus swayed dangerously, and we all screamed and instinctively lunged for the opposite side. Luckily, the driver pulled out just in time, and we arrived in one piece.
Outside, we helped the six Paddle Nepal staff unload the bus and organize all the equipment. At one point, Melissa, the photographer from California, lifted a deflated raft over her shoulders and carried it down to the river all by herself, her biceps rippling and the other staff cheering the whole way. From that point on, I refered to her as 'Buff Mama.'
After she had demonstrated that she was not to be triffled with, Buff Mama set up an impromptu food prep and serving sight. She efficiently doused several buckets of river water with iodine, and then laid out a spread of cabbage coleslaw, beans, bread for sandwiches, yak cheese, and bananas. All of us filed through line to fill up plates, and then afterwards, we each cleaned our own dishes in an assembly line of scrape buckets, rinse buckets, soapy water buckets, and more rinse buckets.
Once we had finished eating, the staff loaded up the last of the rafts, and we each selected our life jacket, helmet, and water jacket for the trip. Aloo, the Paddle Nepal leader, gathered us round for a brief lesson on dos and don'ts on the water, but over the rushing of the river, I could barely hear him and his thick accent. Something about if he yells something you do something, and it's very, very, very important that you do that thing and not the other thing when he yells that thing. Also, if you're stuck in a hole of whirling water and you can't get out, you should definitely not...
Feeling a bit lost and anxious by all the garbled imperatives, I followed the staff down to the rafts. Splitting off into three groups of six, seven, and eight, we were assigned both a guide and a raft. Joshua and I were placed with Stacy and Kyle as well as a couple from Canada, Shelby and Cory, and another girl from England, Gemma.
Our guide introduced himself as Rajoo, and told us that we would be responding to five simple commands: forward, left back, right back, stop, and down. Demonstrating each one, he told us the importance of paddling from the belly and teamwork. We all hopped on the edge of the boat, wedged our toes into the straps or rungs in front of us, and Rajoo pushed off.
Within the first two minutes of being on the river, we were already shooting over swells and holes. Waves crashed over the prow of the raft, and on the other side, we were soaked, our hearts were pumping, and we had huge grins on our faces. Rajoo shouted at us some more, and we swept our paddles through the water vigorously, albeit with little style or cohesion.
Before another ten minutes were up, we were bouncing and crashing over more rapids, and they just kept coming: whereas our little one and a half hour trip down the Ganga barely saw waves, we saw more action on the Kali Gandaki within the first 15 minutes. As we approached the next swell, each of us in the boat steeled for the dip, bounce, and crashing wave, and on the other side, we always came out screaming and laughing.
Gemma fell out of the raft in the first set of rapids, but Rajoo ably snatched her out of the water and threw her back on board. When we had found a still bit of water, all of us gasped and looked back. 'Was that Little Brother?'
Rajoo snorted and laughed. That rapid is so insignificant, it doesn't even have a name.
We crossed a series of rapids, and then we came to Little Brother. We screamed and laughed our way through, and once again, we came out on the other side dripping from the waves. The second major rapids was Big Brother, and as we approached, Rajoo explained that we would probably have to get out of the rafts and walk along the shore to evade this sinister stretch.
Pulling over to a series of boulders along the shore, we beached the raft and walked a ways down the river, carrying our paddles. Just below the rapids, we stopped to watch the kayakers and the staff scout the rapids, pensively from above. Here, the formerly wide river narrowed between enormous boulders, and the sheer volume of water created a large standing wave and a couple of swirling holes. Once they had spent a few minutes reading the eddies, swirls, and waves, Buff Mama got in her kayak and pushed off. She navigated the rapid skillfully, twisting her body and paddling madly, and she shot out the other side still upright. A couple of the safety kayakers followed, almost tipped, but came out fine too, and then Amy and Tip, two kayakers from Oregon, began their descent. Amy went first, and she came out safely on the other side, but Tip's kayak mis-shot, and the swell he shot over proved to be too much: he rolled and was swept out from the kayak. His paddle bobbed and then submerged, and his kayak finished the rapid without him.
Although Tip seemed as though he had been under the water for quite some time, he bobbed back up just past the rapids, and one of the safety kayakers rescued him. Next, the staff members sent down the rafts empty of people one by one. At the bottom of the rapid, the caught the rafts and prevented them from going further down-river. A couple of the other kayakers tried to shoot across the current and find Tip's paddle, but no one was successful. Thankfully, Tip was ok.
Eventually, once all the kayakers, staff, and gear had crossed Big Brother, we all hopped back in the raft. Just a hundred meters further down stream, we pulled off to the side, and Rajoo said, 'I'm going to go get him,' and then bounded off. I looked back, not realizing we had lost anyone, and asked, 'who fell?' Kyle was missing.
While we waited, Gemma and Shelby explained that Kyle had gone over with the first swell, and he had been under the water for a while. Stacy looked worried, but we were all still smiling, sensing that everything was going to be ok. We were in good hands.
Five minutes later, we saw Kyle walking along the shoreline, and when he arrived back at the raft, he told us that he was fine, but very startled. He had gone over in a hole, and although he had tried to swim to the surface, he couldn't find it. Although he probably hadn't been under the water for more than 10 seconds, it felt like ages, and he had had to suck in water. Having fully internalized the directive to hold onto his paddle, he had clutched it until - finally - he had bobbed back up, and one of the other guides had snatched him up and pulled him into the raft.
Kyle looked a little pale and shaken, but he assured us that we were ok, and we carried on. We went over a few more rapids, and Rajoo shouted at us the whole way: 'Right back! No, Right back, left forward!' 'Paddle harder, harder!' To be perfectly honest, he looked a little disappointed. Clearly, we were not living up to his expectations. We all looked at each other, confessing that we were susceptible as ever to wanting to please authority figures. We paddled harder.
After a little more than two hours on the raft, we pulled over to our campsite. For the first 45 minutes, we helped unload and set up camp, carrying the rafts over, propping them up with paddles, and then draping them with tarps to make open-air tents. On a board supported by two buckets of water, Aloo directed the kitchen, chopping vegetables and potatoes harvested from an enormous barrel that had been lashed to the luggage raft.
As it grew dark, we finished setting up camp, and Buff Mama announced that tea was ready. Sitting with stainless steel mugs filled with hot cocoa or tea, we all sat and chatted. Cory and Shelby told us a little about their five month journey through Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand. After University, they had moved from Ottowa to Vancouver, and for the past two years, they've been working at a paper, saving up money to go on this journey. Right now, they're not sure how long they'll be traveling. Initially, they thought they might go on for about a year, but right now they're debating over going home for Christmas.
We also talked to a couple that had met on the Annapurna Circuit. Thalia is from New York City, and she just finished her degree in Occupational Therapy from NYU. After her undergraduate degree, she had spent a few months traveling in Southeast Asia, and at the time, she hadn't been able to make it to Nepal. She resolved to come back after her next degree, and she followed through. Shai, an Israeli, is currently in University, studying Engineering. He was just in Nepal for over a month, and on the Annapurna, the two met. Neither one seemed too keen on switching countries, but for the time being, they were happy to adventure together.
Another couple, DiCarlos and Carolina, were from Spain. When I overheard Thalia practicing her Spanish with them, I joined in the conversation and found out that DiCarlos had grown up in Cadiz (Andalucia) while Carolina was from Madrid. Right now, the two live in Seville, and they are both working as Environmental Engineers. DiCarlos, in particular, was very patient and spoke slowly for Thalia and I. It was a ton of fun to practice, and I could understand the vast majority of their half of the conversation.
Amy and Tip, the kayaking couple from Portland, Oregon, told us a little bit about how they met. The two are river enthusiasts, and they've found a great community of like-minded individuals. As a group, they've been able to raft down the Grand Canyon on 14 to 20 day journeys, camping along the way, and because they own all of their own equipment, they're able to keep the prices down to about 200 dollars per person (!). Anyway, they met on one of these trips, and this journey to Nepal is their honeymoon. On their wedding day, Amy's dad paddled her down a class one rapid to the altar, and she was wearing her wedding dress. They seemed really well matched, and both of them had vibrant, gregarious personalities.
After a bit, dinner was served, and we all stood in a line to load up on the all-you-can-eat buffet. The pasta and curried vegetables were excellent, and the cooks were even kind enough to make some without cauliflower (just for me).
While we ate, we chatted, and the group got along really well. Stacy and Kyle told us more about their experiences in Japan, and we talked for ages. Eventually, we all went off to bed, and Stacy, Kyle, Joshua, and I called one of the open-air raft tents. We fell asleep looking up at the stars.
October 17, 2010
Deshain moved to Pokhara on Sunday, and as we walked through the streets that morning, most of the shops and restaurants were closed. Stopping at a German Bakery, we squeezed into the last remaining table and gathered extra sets around.
Kyle, tall and skinny, has a voracious appetite, and I think Joshua appreciates having a partner in metabolic crime: both of them experience serious hunger every couple of hours, and wussy restaurant portions simple aren't enough. It's like they have little furnaces inside; they require constant refueling, and they never seem to put on reserves for winter.
After set breakfasts of savory potatoes, eggs, and toast, we paid and Stephen headed back tot he guest house to sort out his room. Stacy, Kyle, Joshua and I popped into the rafting business recommended by Lonely Planet, Paddle Nepal, to check out their rafting packages. The two trips that they had leaving in the next couple of days were a nearby, half-day rafting trip and a three day trip down the Kali Gandaki. Both were more expensive than we had hoped, so after we heard the brief descriptions of each, we decided to look around.
Before we went searching, we hopped on the internet for a few minutes. As we were waiting for the stragglers to get off, a couple of friends Kyle and Stacy had met on the Annapurna Circuit ran into us. One of them had gone on a rafting trip just before the Circuit, and he told us all about it. Swissa, a rafting company that mainly targets Israelis, runs three day rafting trips twice a week for 115 dollars per person. Once you sign up, you attend an informational meeting the night before the trip departs where the guides give you an extended description of the journey. While you listen, you get a free soda. The next morning, you show up and ride for two to three hours on a bus. The guides put together a lunch, and afterwards, you hop on the rafts for a couple of hours. That night, you put in at a beach campsite where you have dinner and hang out with 50 or 60 other rafters and guides. The next day, you have breakfast, raft for two or three hours, eat lunch, and then raft again. Dinner is much the same as the night before, but there's also a campfire on the second night. When Kyle and Stacy's friend had gone on the trip, it had been Sukkot, and all the Israelis had built a Sukkah and sung traditional Israeli songs around the campfire. That night, you sleep under big tarps or inside tents like you did the night before, and then the next morning, you eat breakfast and then raft for a couple more hours. The bus ride home takes about 5 hours. At Swissa, a t-shirt and CD of photos is included at the end of the trip.
Looking at Kyle, Stacy, and Joshua, I tried to contain my excitement. 'So what do you think?' Everyone nodded their heads, saying that it sounded like fun. I said, 'Um yeah. I want to do it. I really, really want to do it.' Following Kyle and Stacy's friend, we walked to Swissa to see if they had a rafting trip leaving the next day. Unfortunately, they were closed for the holiday, but a man relaxing on the balcony told us that Swissa's tours leave on Sundays and Wednesdays - they don't have trips on the Sabbath.
Heading back to Paddle Nepal, we decided to try to negotiate a better price. With four of us, we figured that we had a little more negotiating power, but when we got there, they only gave us 10 dollars off each: the trip was 140 dollars per person. When we asked them why there was such a large price difference between Paddle Nepal and Swissa, they said that their guides were much more experienced, their trips were smaller (at about 20 rafters per trip), and their gear was higher quality. We told them we'd think about it.
Outside, we screwed up our noses at the 25 dollar difference, but in the end, we all agreed: we still wanted to do it, and Paddle Nepal seemed like they had their shit together.
We walked back in after a couple of minutes and put down our deposit. Next, we filled out forms with an emergency contact and our insurance information. The guides told us to return at 5:30 tonight.
Walking out of Paddle Nepal, we were all psyched. Reminding ourselves that the best preparation for traveling is forming low expectations, we told ourselves that we would still be happy even if it rained for three days and there were hardly any rapids. Given our experience on the Ganga (minus the rain) this is very nearly true: just being on a boat with beautiful scenery is a blast.
For the rest of the day, we decided to walk up to the Peace Pagoda. To get there, we followed the shoreline out of town. The water was perfectly still, and our path led us over swinging bridges, along a river, and to a dam. We crossed over to fields of rice paddies, and as we walked, we watched men and women bathing in the stream and groups of families walking. For the festival, each one of them had foreheads marked with red paint and some sort of grain - it sort of looked like pieces of rice had been mixed in with the red paint.
As we walked, the temperature grew warmer and warmer until all of us were sweating. Around the same time, we got lost. To our right, a path led through the woods, and ahead of us, another path led us through more rice paddies. We headed through the rice paddies.
After a few more minutes, we asked a family by the side of the path if we were headed towards the Peace Pagoda. They assured us that we were, but a few more meters down the path, we came to another fork.
Hearing footsteps behind us, we turned around and found a sweet, thin boy with red paint on his forehead. He gave us an enormous smile and told us that he would bring us to the Peace Pagoda Path.
Rajj told us that he wants to be a trekking guide when he grows up. He's 13 years old, and today, his family had a big breakfast and blessed each other for Deshain. As he walked, he barely panted and he answered all of our questions gracefully, in beautiful English. We followed him, and about 10 minutes later, we found the main path. Tipping Rajj, we told him that he would make a wonderful trekking guide one day.
Back on the right path, we hiked the last 30 minutes to the top. The path led through the woods, and the higher we got, the more monkeys we saw swinging through the branches. As we walked, we paired off by gender and talked.
Even though Stacy and I have known each other for more than 6 years now, ours has been a slow process of getting to know one another. We're finally at a point where we feel comfortable talking about anything and everything, and we spent our walk talking non-stop about a lot of the stuff that matters most. It felt wonderful to have a long, easy talk with a familiar, friendly face. Stacy and Kyle make me feel right at home, even when we're really on the opposite side of the world.
At the top of the hill, we climbed Peace Pagoda. At the top, we could see out over the lake and Pokhara below, and over to the hills and mountains on the other side. It started to sprinkle a little bit, and the four of us walked down a little ways to a restaurant for some grub. Joshua ordered us all some Vegetable Chowmein, and we continued chatting, telling Kyle and Stacy about our farm and finding out about their plans for the Peace Corps and Law School.
When the vegetable Chowmein came, we all chowed down, and when it came time to pay, we all forked over an exorbitant 150 rupees per plate - the restaurant keeper explained that it was festival today. Joshua retorted that that should mean that the customer pays less, not more. We agreed to disagree.
We walked back down the hill through the rain. While we walked, we kept talking, and before we knew it, we were back in Pokhara. Stopping at the guest house to change, we headed back to Paddle Nepal to attend the informational meeting. In a room above the main office, we each drank a free soda and met our leader. Aloo told us a little bit about our upcoming trip down the Kali Gandaki, and Melissa, a kayaker from California, asked us to buy her photographic services. For 20 additional dollars, we could buy a CD of the photos she planned to take. After some grumbling, enough people coughed up the extra cash, and Melissa was able to join our trip.
After the meeting, the four of us met back up with Stephen and a couple more friends that Kyle and Stacy had met on the Circuit, Julian and Carla. At the Olive Cafe, we all ordered Mediterranean-inspired plates of humous, pita, greek salad, and pasta, and then ate as we talked. Carla is from Chile, and when I told her that Joshua and I are buying a farm, she lit up. For the past three years, she's been studying Sustainable Management in Japan, and her dream is one day to own a farm as well. We talked about the pros and cons of local economies, genetically modified food, and the privileges of talking food ethics.
When we finished eating, I started to feel a little over-tired, so Joshua and I headed home right away. Tonight, we had the treat of a very soft mattress.
This morning we woke up at 5:30 AM to finish packing up our last things, store our bags with the hotel keeper, and walk to the bus station. It took us a few minutes to finally roll out of bed, so after we had walked a few blocks, we took a taxi to save some time.
At the bus station, we each bought a croissant from the eager young boys selling pastries, and then we sat on the fence, munching on hot bread and feeling that particular I-woke-up-too-early-and-now-I-have-a-bit-of-a-tummy-ache feel.
On the bus, we crammed into the too-small seats and waited for the other seats to fill up. By 6:45, we were on our way.
The bus ride from Pokhara to Besi Sahar takes about 5 hours, and it costs a little less than 200 rupees per person. The bus is smaller than some of the others we've taken, and it's filled with a mix of tourists and locals. Sitting behind us, we met a woman named Frith from New Zealand, and a man named Ankit from London.
To combat motion sickness, I took a homeopathic remedy Stacy had given me, and it seemed to work really well for the first few hours. Talking with Frith and Ankit, I heard about Frith's adventures trekking in Mongolia and living in Christchurch, and Ankit's job teaching children about the outdoors in Thailand. Ankit had also spent about a month in Dharamkot just before we had gotten there, and he had taken a 10 day Meditation course at Tushita. Although he hadn't really known why he was interested in meditation, the course turned out to be amazing, and the group of people he had attended it with had all had really positive, incredible experiences. Apparently, a lot of the meditations brought up a lot of old memories and people had begun to work through them.
Frith's a doctor just about to enter her residency, and Ankit has been traveling and working since he graduated from Manchester with a degree in Environmental Science in 2001. They were both very friendly, and as we the bus moved along, I thought about how lucky we've been to meet so many wonderful people as we've been traveling. When I told Ankit about our farm, he seemed both shocked and excited, and he confessed that he has a similar dream.
The last hour before we reached Besi Sahar, the homeopathic remedy couldn't quite cut it. By the time we arrived, I was feeling very woozy indeed. Frith went off to line up her mountaineering plans, and Ankit, Joshua, and I headed out of town on the dirt road headed for Bhulebule.
As we walked, Ankit told us a little bit about his family, who are originally from India, moved to London, raised him and his brother, and then moved back to India. He told us about living and working in New Zealand for year, finding work in London, traveling in India for a few months, traveling in Australia for a few more, and then finding work Thailand. I asked him more about the meditation course, and then we all got to talking about religion. Ankit doesn't know a lot about Christianity, but he did have a few questions, and we tried to answer them as fairly and knowledgeably as possible. In the end, we agreed that dogma and practice often look completely different, and most religions have really beautiful, compassionate people who have managed to take the good, leave the bad, and build something amazing. And, of course, there are the communities, which all of us envy.
We arrived in Bhulebule before we knew it, and the bus pulled in right as we did. It had taken us the same amount of time to walk it as it had taken some of the other tourists to wait for the bus and then ride it. We felt satisfied with our decisions, and I felt particularly thankful when I saw a few tourists clutching their stomachs.
Crossing a swinging bridge above a beautiful, rushing river, we passed a donkey train and walked through another small village on the opposite side of the stream. Little children ran up to us, asking for 'chocolates? Candy? School pens?' And we shook our heads and said, 'Namaste!'
Walking along the river, we entered another deep, gorgeous valley, and we passed a number of waterfalls along the way. At one point, we were barracaded by a group of young girls that sang and danced for us, and for their efforts, I gave them 10 rupees. One of them held my hand as she said thank you.
After just three hours and forty-five minutes of hiking, we arrived in upper Nadi. Ankit requested a guest house that looked 'Hobbit-en,' and we found Seasonal Lodge and Sore Back Restaurant. The rooms have mud floors, mosquito nets, and bambo walls, and outside, there are trellises, thatch-shade tables, and plenty of lovely orange and pink flowers.
Unloading our packs, Joshua and I headed into the little village to purchase a pair of cheap, light flipflops for me (100 rupees), and while we were there, we also picked up 250 grams of yak cheese.
Back at the guest house, a little boy, Taman, led us through brush and rice paddies to the river were we sat for a bit and cooled off our feet. When we walked back, we ordered Dal Bhaat with Ankit, and then we sat down to read and write.
For dinner, we ate to our hearts content and chatted with an Israeli couple and Ankit. Like Eshai and Hadas, these two are on their honeymoon, but they seemed a bit surprised that traveling is not at all like holiday (actually, the woman looked a bit pissed).
After the sun set, we headed off to our rooms, and now, I'm scrambling to catch up on my writing. We've been so social the past couple of weeks, I've barely had time to write!
October 21, 2010
The next morning, we took it easy. My stomach was still pulling all sorts of stunts, and Joshua had to finish up his application to law enforcement training. In the mean time, Stacy and Kyle went to go have breakfast with Julian and Carla.
Once Joshua had finished his essays, I did a little editing, and then we set off for the Immigration Office to get a 15 day extension on our Nepali visas. It took about 20 minutes to walk there from our hotel, and when we got there, there wasn't even a line. We sat down, filled out a page of paper work, gave the man our passport, a photo, and some money, and they gave us our extension. It took about 10 minutes.
Back in Pokhara, we met up with Kyle and Stacy and checked out a couple of the tattoo parlors. I know what you're thinking, but no, the tattoo investigation wasn't just for me. Joshua's actually been seriously considering a little ink, and we needed to see what Pokhara had to offer.
Like the parlors in Kathmandu, all of the artists used new needles and gloves (the men looked at me as though I was demented when I asked them. They told me that they were insulted that I had even asked.). They looked fine, but their portfolios were pretty traditional. After the second parlor, I told Joshua that I didn't think we should do it; none of the artists seemed to have very much experience with 'artsy' tattoos.
Joshua hopped into the UPS store to mail off his application materials while Stacy, Kyle, and I wandered in and out of outdoor shops. I stocked up on meds for the trek (sunscreen, Cipro, Diamoxin, and Advil) and bought some last minute supplies like headlamps, trekking poles for Joshua, and sunglasses for me (I'm really, really going to try to not loose these ones.).
After a bit of running around, we had everything we needed (we hope), and we went back to the hotel to unload our stuff, have another painful visit with the restroom, and gather our things for a little boat ride.
Before we headed out, we stopped at a Tibetan restaurant and ordered a feast. Seriously. We filled our table with Thukpa, Tingmo, Curried Vegetables, Spring Rolls, Momos, Chowmein, and Lassis, and then we ate until we were absolutely stuffed. There was so much food, and we had probably nine lassis between the four of us, the final bill came out to only 700 rupees (that's ten dollars). The food was great.
In Pokhara, you can rent a paddle boat for 250 rupees an hour. We took one out for two hours, and during that time, we went no where in particular. There was a little island with a temple that we puttered around, but mostly we drifted and paddled aimlessly while we talked and laughed. It's so good to be with friends.
When the sun started to set, we pulled ashore, paid, and headed into town, looking for stamps to send off our postcards. In one shop, I spied the perfect gift for Yvonne and Dave, and Joshua drove a mean bargain. He was incredible, and we came out with the gift in hand.
Stephen met up with us, and after we picked up our photos from Paddle Nepal, we went into Almond's Cafe to meet up with Shelby, Cory, and Gemma. Joshua and I weren't too hungry, so we just ordered appetizers (Chilly Momos and Vegetable Pakora).
At one point during our conversation, Kyle told us that he 'sprouts.' I'd never encountered this term before, and always fascinated by Kyle's healthy food kicks, I asked him for more details. Apparently, you can 'sprout' lots of things. He specializes in lentils and buckwheat, but you can also sprout quinoa and mung beans. Anyway, you soak the grain or bean for a few hours, and then you drain the water. Keep it in a cool place for the next couple of days, thoroughly rinsing them twice a day. After two or three days, they'll germinate, and viola! You'll have sprouted beans or grains. Kyle says that they are one of the most complete foods, and they're extremely high in protein, low in calories, and very, very good for you.
Midway through this explanation, Shelby leaned over and exclaimed, 'you sprout?!' Kyle and Shelby shared a bonding moment, and I realized that there was a whole food revolution I had never heard anything about. I guess once you've sprouted, you either eat the sprouts whole and plain, or you can put them in salads. Kyle dehydrates his sprouted buckwheat and eats it like cereal. Next, they got to talking about their next goal: fermentation. Kyle wants to learn how to make kimchi and all sorts of fermented vegetables. Shelby got particularly animated when they started talking about their juicers, and after Kyle described a particular concoction made of fennel, chard, broccoli stem, and carrot juice, Stacy helpfully added, 'yeah, and sometimes, they even taste good!' Which made us all crack up.
Once we had finished eating, we paid and said goodbye. Stephen went off with Shelby, Cory, and Gemma for a drink, and Kyle and Stacy walked back to the hotel with us where we all said goodbye and agreed that we had had the most wonderful time. Another trip is already in the making.
Back in the room, we packed up and tried to whittle down our Annapurna packs to the very bare minimum. Tomorrow, we leave for Besi Sahar!
October 20, 2010
On our last day of the rafting trip, we woke up early and ate a breakfast of thin pancakes and eggs. By now, I'm absolutely in love with Indian and Nepali pancakes: they're crispy on the outside, thin, and delicious. Yum yum.
After breakfast, we broke camp, and back in the raft, we cruised through the last three rapids. Aloo managed to tip us once more, and this time, I was trapped under the raft for quite a while before I was able to free myself. When I did, I was sputtering and shaken, but the water was so refreshing and the waves were so fun, I quickly got over it and just enjoyed floating down the river with my feet sticking up and my life jacket supporting me. On either side of the river, rice paddy farms striped the hillsides and the sky was spectacularly blue. There were more and more farms, and people ran up to the shore, waving and shouting 'Namaste!'
After the last stretch of rapids, we swam for a bit and performed a few tricks with the raft. Tip generously let us try his kayak, and as I paddled about, I asked Amy about how I could get a kayak back in the States. It looks like so much fun :)
About two hours of paddling later, we turned onto a warmer, bluer side stream, and Aloo told us to all hop out and swim the last couple hundred meters to shore. We raced and floated, and when we arrived on land, we got out a little sadly. After so much fun, it's hard to leave the water.
Once again, we helped unload and carry all the rafts up to the bus. At the top, we changed into dry clothes and repacked our bags. For lunch, we crowded into a shady spot while we ate more beans, bread, and coleslaw. In the mean time, dozens of small children carrying individual bottles of pop came up and offered us drinks for 'a good price.' I watched them all interact, and I was fascinated to discover that I could pick out the leader, his sidekick, and the scapegoats right away. Apparently, I did learn something from teaching.
After lunch, we loaded onto the bus and began the long five hour bus ride home. To pass the time and avoid motion sickness, I mostly snoozed or gazed out the window, watching the green mountains pass by my window. Unfortunately, I was unable to avoid all the symptoms of motion sickness, and by the time we arrived back in Pokhara at 6 o'clock, I was feeling pretty crappy.
Gathering our stuff, we walked back to the Karma Guesthouse with plans to meet back up at Paddle Nepal in an hour. At Karma, we discovered that all the rooms were taken, so once we had retrieved our bags, we followed one of the hotel keeper's friends to another guesthouse up the road, Snow Leopard Hotel.
Dumping our packs, we quickly showered and changed, and I swiftly realized that my intestines were not happy campers. At first, I was pretty sure that I would have to skip dinner, but the intense cramping subsided, and I was finally able to stand upright.
Back at Paddle Nepal, we found the group and walked to the Elegant View Restaurant where we ordered food and chatted. I went for Vegetable Chowmein and Joshua had some more Palak Paneer. While we ate, the lightening and thunder gave way to a torrential downpour, but it was finished by the time we all said goodbye and parted ways.
Walking back to the guest house, Kyle, Stacy, Joshua, and I agreed that we had had the most incredible time, and we felt so lucky to have been able to meet up halfway across the world and spend a few days together. We love you Stacy and Kyle!
October 19, 2010
We woke up to tea and a hearty breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and toast. Once we had eaten, we packed up our bags and helped load up all the rafts. Within a couple of hours, we were back on the boat.
As the seven of us settled on our raft, we saw Rajoo, our guide from yesterday, exchange a few words with Aloo, the trip leader. Rajoo went off to guide the raft Aloo had led yesterday, and Aloo headed towards ours. We all exchanged worried glances, and a couple of us joked that we had been disowned.
Aloo pushed us off into the river right away. He began an immediate program of whipping us into shape. 'Paddle harder! Harder! No! All together! Must paddle harder!' We all frantically dug our paddles into the water as Aloo directed the boat upstream, against the incredibly fast current.
Finally, Aloo relented, and we all took deep gasps of air, already winded. He steered us towards a calm eddy, and we watched as the other boats pushed off shore. He nodded in approval at one boat's beautiful paddlestroke and power, 'very good,' he said, pointing so that everyone could see.
Having seen the model, we were determined to prove ourselves to Aloo. Hitting the first rapid running, we followed his every demand with More Power! Within thirty minutes, my arms were already aching.
Before long, Aloo began to tell us to 'all move right!' At first, we weren't sure what he meant, but then he demonstrated that he wanted us all to crowd and lean over the right hand side of the boat. The first time he gave us the direction, we failed miserably, and after we were on the other side of the rapid, he sternly lectured us.
On the next rapid, we resolved to do better, and when Aloo screamed, 'all right!' We flung ourselves right. At the same time, Aloo dipped our raft into a huge hole, and the raft pitched precariously towards us, threatening to dump us into the water. Still in one piece, we looked back at Aloo once we had passed through the rapid. 'You're trying to tip us!' Gemma said with surprise and sudden understanding. Aloo just smirked.
At the next rapid, we knew what we wanted. As soon as we hit a big swell and Aloo said, 'all right!' we dove to the other side, stretched our bodies out, and the heavy raft slapped over our heads. I came up beneath the raft, sputtering. The boat was still rushing down the river, and the rapids were still pitching us in every direction. I held onto my paddle tight, and with a breath of air, I submerged myself again, clawing for the air beyond the upturned raft. I eventually escaped, and when I did, I saw Aloo nimbling hopping up on the overturned boat, rescuing the other boat members, and gathering floating paddles. I floated a bit, and then another boat snatched me out of the water. I rode with them for a little while until Aloo had righted the boat and gathered some of the other rafters.
Back in the boat, we gasped and sputtered, sharing our experiences and generally reliving the thrill. Joshua had lost both of his flip flops, but otherwise, everyone was fully intact. Before long, we came to more rapids, and there, Cory and Kyle flew out of the boat. A couple kayakers rescued them and brought them back, and a few minutes later, Shelby was in the water too. One of Shelby's shoes was floating just out of reach, and when Stacy went to grab it, she plopped into the water too.
When we pulled onto a beach for lunch, we were all soaking wet and ridiculously happy. Kyle bolted off to use the bathroom, and the rest of us helped gather water for iodine treatment, drinking, and washing.
When Kyle came back, he seemed a little shaken. Apparently, he had scrambled up a tangled slope, and as soon as he had come to an open spot, he had taken care of his business. Finished, he stood up and realized he was in the middle of a rice paddy. All of a sudden, a five foot long, black snake slithered by. He stood paralyzed, and then he high-tailed it back to the beach. When he told the guides what he had seen, they told him it was probably a cobra.
For lunch, we ate baked beans, potato salad, and cole slaw, and afterwards, we cleaned up and then went to play in the river. Not too long later, we hopped back onto the rafts.
During the second half of the day, Aloo pulled all sorts of tricks, aiming for holes and swells, having us paddle the nose of the raft into sweeps of water that swamped the boat, and pretty much just trying to get us as wet as possible. We had a blast.
For the second campsite, we stopped at a wide sandy beach. The green, jungle-like mountains cupped the river and beach on either side, and as we set up camp, we admired the scenery. All day long, the river had cut a deep path through the mountains, and around every turn, we had been treated to spectacular views of plunging valleys, sheer cliff faces, beautiful swinging bridges, and smiling Nepali faces gathered on the shore or atop bridges to gawk and wave. The Kali Gandaki river valley is breathtaking. When we weren't shooting through rapids or recovering from stunts and tricks, we were watching everything around us with our jaws hanging open. This place is gorgeous.
While we hung around before dinner, we sat on the beach, admiring the view and talking. Kyle, Stacy, and I started talking about which element we thought best represented one another (a revival topic from one of my earlier posts), and then we started interviewing people to figure out their elements. Basically (as an answer to my prior question about what each element represents), we said that elements are archetypes, and therefore, we already have instincts and associations that tell us what they represent. For example, I associate phrases like 'down to Earth,' 'practical,' 'hard working,' and 'connected to the land' with the element Earth. For water, 'go with the flow,' 'adaptable,' and 'peaceful' come up, but the characteristics 'tumultuous,' and 'most powerful force of erosion' come to mind. Fire is easy. People associate passion, burning, and ferocity with fire, and to that, I add things like strong opinions and - occasionally - an inability to form safe boundaries. Wind is harder, but in the end, we said that that's one of wind's qualities: hard to pin down, always on the move, swift but sometimes slow, and usually focused in heading in the same direction.
Armed with better definitions, Joshua changed his mind about me. He now thinks I'm fire, and Stacy and Kyle agree. I guess I agree a little bit too. I still think I'm a lot of Earth. We went around the circle: Stacy is water, Kyle is air, we guessed that Shelby is both water and Earth, and Cory is wind. Gemma is definitely fire.
After a while, a few more people joined our group, and we got to talking about astrology and whether or not we believe in things like patterns, ghosts, and the paranormal. I told my now infamous ghost story about our time in Ecuador, and Kyle told us one of his experiences too. We debated about whether or not horoscopes or psychics had any ounce of truth to them, and whether or not we believed in ghosts. Cory, Kyle, and Shelby were skeptical, but Stacy and I held middle ground: were not true believers, but we're not willing to discount everything quite yet.
For dinner, we ate more pasta and veggies around a campfire, and when we had finished the guides came over and sang for us. Shelby and Cory knew one of the songs and told us that the traditional Nepali folk song translated into 'I am a donkey, you are a monkey' and basically talked about how they carry all our stuff and we act like monkeys.
A little subversive lyricism never hurt anyone, and we all enjoyed clapping hands and staring into the flames as we listened to them croon. After a bit, we headed to our sleeping bags and fell asleep under the stars.
October 18, 2010
We woke up early and picked up pastries on our way to Paddle Nepal. When we got there, the guides were loading the equipment and kayaks onto the bus, and we waited around for a few minutes while people gathered and the last of the equipment was lashed down to the roof.
To get to the beginning of our rafting trip, we rode in a classic Nepali bus: every inch of wall and ceiling was covered in color, mirrors, and decorative rivets, and the front of the bus looked like a club house. We stopped a few times for snacks and bathroom stops, and about three hours away from Pokhara, we drove past a small village and pulled into an even smaller dirt parking lot just a few steps away from the Kali Gandaki. Just before the bus stopped, we had our closest call yet. Rounding a precarious and tight bend, the bus swayed dangerously, and we all screamed and instinctively lunged for the opposite side. Luckily, the driver pulled out just in time, and we arrived in one piece.
Outside, we helped the six Paddle Nepal staff unload the bus and organize all the equipment. At one point, Melissa, the photographer from California, lifted a deflated raft over her shoulders and carried it down to the river all by herself, her biceps rippling and the other staff cheering the whole way. From that point on, I refered to her as 'Buff Mama.'
After she had demonstrated that she was not to be triffled with, Buff Mama set up an impromptu food prep and serving sight. She efficiently doused several buckets of river water with iodine, and then laid out a spread of cabbage coleslaw, beans, bread for sandwiches, yak cheese, and bananas. All of us filed through line to fill up plates, and then afterwards, we each cleaned our own dishes in an assembly line of scrape buckets, rinse buckets, soapy water buckets, and more rinse buckets.
Once we had finished eating, the staff loaded up the last of the rafts, and we each selected our life jacket, helmet, and water jacket for the trip. Aloo, the Paddle Nepal leader, gathered us round for a brief lesson on dos and don'ts on the water, but over the rushing of the river, I could barely hear him and his thick accent. Something about if he yells something you do something, and it's very, very, very important that you do that thing and not the other thing when he yells that thing. Also, if you're stuck in a hole of whirling water and you can't get out, you should definitely not...
Feeling a bit lost and anxious by all the garbled imperatives, I followed the staff down to the rafts. Splitting off into three groups of six, seven, and eight, we were assigned both a guide and a raft. Joshua and I were placed with Stacy and Kyle as well as a couple from Canada, Shelby and Cory, and another girl from England, Gemma.
Our guide introduced himself as Rajoo, and told us that we would be responding to five simple commands: forward, left back, right back, stop, and down. Demonstrating each one, he told us the importance of paddling from the belly and teamwork. We all hopped on the edge of the boat, wedged our toes into the straps or rungs in front of us, and Rajoo pushed off.
Within the first two minutes of being on the river, we were already shooting over swells and holes. Waves crashed over the prow of the raft, and on the other side, we were soaked, our hearts were pumping, and we had huge grins on our faces. Rajoo shouted at us some more, and we swept our paddles through the water vigorously, albeit with little style or cohesion.
Before another ten minutes were up, we were bouncing and crashing over more rapids, and they just kept coming: whereas our little one and a half hour trip down the Ganga barely saw waves, we saw more action on the Kali Gandaki within the first 15 minutes. As we approached the next swell, each of us in the boat steeled for the dip, bounce, and crashing wave, and on the other side, we always came out screaming and laughing.
Gemma fell out of the raft in the first set of rapids, but Rajoo ably snatched her out of the water and threw her back on board. When we had found a still bit of water, all of us gasped and looked back. 'Was that Little Brother?'
Rajoo snorted and laughed. That rapid is so insignificant, it doesn't even have a name.
We crossed a series of rapids, and then we came to Little Brother. We screamed and laughed our way through, and once again, we came out on the other side dripping from the waves. The second major rapids was Big Brother, and as we approached, Rajoo explained that we would probably have to get out of the rafts and walk along the shore to evade this sinister stretch.
Pulling over to a series of boulders along the shore, we beached the raft and walked a ways down the river, carrying our paddles. Just below the rapids, we stopped to watch the kayakers and the staff scout the rapids, pensively from above. Here, the formerly wide river narrowed between enormous boulders, and the sheer volume of water created a large standing wave and a couple of swirling holes. Once they had spent a few minutes reading the eddies, swirls, and waves, Buff Mama got in her kayak and pushed off. She navigated the rapid skillfully, twisting her body and paddling madly, and she shot out the other side still upright. A couple of the safety kayakers followed, almost tipped, but came out fine too, and then Amy and Tip, two kayakers from Oregon, began their descent. Amy went first, and she came out safely on the other side, but Tip's kayak mis-shot, and the swell he shot over proved to be too much: he rolled and was swept out from the kayak. His paddle bobbed and then submerged, and his kayak finished the rapid without him.
Although Tip seemed as though he had been under the water for quite some time, he bobbed back up just past the rapids, and one of the safety kayakers rescued him. Next, the staff members sent down the rafts empty of people one by one. At the bottom of the rapid, the caught the rafts and prevented them from going further down-river. A couple of the other kayakers tried to shoot across the current and find Tip's paddle, but no one was successful. Thankfully, Tip was ok.
Eventually, once all the kayakers, staff, and gear had crossed Big Brother, we all hopped back in the raft. Just a hundred meters further down stream, we pulled off to the side, and Rajoo said, 'I'm going to go get him,' and then bounded off. I looked back, not realizing we had lost anyone, and asked, 'who fell?' Kyle was missing.
While we waited, Gemma and Shelby explained that Kyle had gone over with the first swell, and he had been under the water for a while. Stacy looked worried, but we were all still smiling, sensing that everything was going to be ok. We were in good hands.
Five minutes later, we saw Kyle walking along the shoreline, and when he arrived back at the raft, he told us that he was fine, but very startled. He had gone over in a hole, and although he had tried to swim to the surface, he couldn't find it. Although he probably hadn't been under the water for more than 10 seconds, it felt like ages, and he had had to suck in water. Having fully internalized the directive to hold onto his paddle, he had clutched it until - finally - he had bobbed back up, and one of the other guides had snatched him up and pulled him into the raft.
Kyle looked a little pale and shaken, but he assured us that we were ok, and we carried on. We went over a few more rapids, and Rajoo shouted at us the whole way: 'Right back! No, Right back, left forward!' 'Paddle harder, harder!' To be perfectly honest, he looked a little disappointed. Clearly, we were not living up to his expectations. We all looked at each other, confessing that we were susceptible as ever to wanting to please authority figures. We paddled harder.
After a little more than two hours on the raft, we pulled over to our campsite. For the first 45 minutes, we helped unload and set up camp, carrying the rafts over, propping them up with paddles, and then draping them with tarps to make open-air tents. On a board supported by two buckets of water, Aloo directed the kitchen, chopping vegetables and potatoes harvested from an enormous barrel that had been lashed to the luggage raft.
As it grew dark, we finished setting up camp, and Buff Mama announced that tea was ready. Sitting with stainless steel mugs filled with hot cocoa or tea, we all sat and chatted. Cory and Shelby told us a little about their five month journey through Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand. After University, they had moved from Ottowa to Vancouver, and for the past two years, they've been working at a paper, saving up money to go on this journey. Right now, they're not sure how long they'll be traveling. Initially, they thought they might go on for about a year, but right now they're debating over going home for Christmas.
We also talked to a couple that had met on the Annapurna Circuit. Thalia is from New York City, and she just finished her degree in Occupational Therapy from NYU. After her undergraduate degree, she had spent a few months traveling in Southeast Asia, and at the time, she hadn't been able to make it to Nepal. She resolved to come back after her next degree, and she followed through. Shai, an Israeli, is currently in University, studying Engineering. He was just in Nepal for over a month, and on the Annapurna, the two met. Neither one seemed too keen on switching countries, but for the time being, they were happy to adventure together.
Another couple, DiCarlos and Carolina, were from Spain. When I overheard Thalia practicing her Spanish with them, I joined in the conversation and found out that DiCarlos had grown up in Cadiz (Andalucia) while Carolina was from Madrid. Right now, the two live in Seville, and they are both working as Environmental Engineers. DiCarlos, in particular, was very patient and spoke slowly for Thalia and I. It was a ton of fun to practice, and I could understand the vast majority of their half of the conversation.
Amy and Tip, the kayaking couple from Portland, Oregon, told us a little bit about how they met. The two are river enthusiasts, and they've found a great community of like-minded individuals. As a group, they've been able to raft down the Grand Canyon on 14 to 20 day journeys, camping along the way, and because they own all of their own equipment, they're able to keep the prices down to about 200 dollars per person (!). Anyway, they met on one of these trips, and this journey to Nepal is their honeymoon. On their wedding day, Amy's dad paddled her down a class one rapid to the altar, and she was wearing her wedding dress. They seemed really well matched, and both of them had vibrant, gregarious personalities.
After a bit, dinner was served, and we all stood in a line to load up on the all-you-can-eat buffet. The pasta and curried vegetables were excellent, and the cooks were even kind enough to make some without cauliflower (just for me).
While we ate, we chatted, and the group got along really well. Stacy and Kyle told us more about their experiences in Japan, and we talked for ages. Eventually, we all went off to bed, and Stacy, Kyle, Joshua, and I called one of the open-air raft tents. We fell asleep looking up at the stars.
October 17, 2010
Deshain moved to Pokhara on Sunday, and as we walked through the streets that morning, most of the shops and restaurants were closed. Stopping at a German Bakery, we squeezed into the last remaining table and gathered extra sets around.
Kyle, tall and skinny, has a voracious appetite, and I think Joshua appreciates having a partner in metabolic crime: both of them experience serious hunger every couple of hours, and wussy restaurant portions simple aren't enough. It's like they have little furnaces inside; they require constant refueling, and they never seem to put on reserves for winter.
After set breakfasts of savory potatoes, eggs, and toast, we paid and Stephen headed back tot he guest house to sort out his room. Stacy, Kyle, Joshua and I popped into the rafting business recommended by Lonely Planet, Paddle Nepal, to check out their rafting packages. The two trips that they had leaving in the next couple of days were a nearby, half-day rafting trip and a three day trip down the Kali Gandaki. Both were more expensive than we had hoped, so after we heard the brief descriptions of each, we decided to look around.
Before we went searching, we hopped on the internet for a few minutes. As we were waiting for the stragglers to get off, a couple of friends Kyle and Stacy had met on the Annapurna Circuit ran into us. One of them had gone on a rafting trip just before the Circuit, and he told us all about it. Swissa, a rafting company that mainly targets Israelis, runs three day rafting trips twice a week for 115 dollars per person. Once you sign up, you attend an informational meeting the night before the trip departs where the guides give you an extended description of the journey. While you listen, you get a free soda. The next morning, you show up and ride for two to three hours on a bus. The guides put together a lunch, and afterwards, you hop on the rafts for a couple of hours. That night, you put in at a beach campsite where you have dinner and hang out with 50 or 60 other rafters and guides. The next day, you have breakfast, raft for two or three hours, eat lunch, and then raft again. Dinner is much the same as the night before, but there's also a campfire on the second night. When Kyle and Stacy's friend had gone on the trip, it had been Sukkot, and all the Israelis had built a Sukkah and sung traditional Israeli songs around the campfire. That night, you sleep under big tarps or inside tents like you did the night before, and then the next morning, you eat breakfast and then raft for a couple more hours. The bus ride home takes about 5 hours. At Swissa, a t-shirt and CD of photos is included at the end of the trip.
Looking at Kyle, Stacy, and Joshua, I tried to contain my excitement. 'So what do you think?' Everyone nodded their heads, saying that it sounded like fun. I said, 'Um yeah. I want to do it. I really, really want to do it.' Following Kyle and Stacy's friend, we walked to Swissa to see if they had a rafting trip leaving the next day. Unfortunately, they were closed for the holiday, but a man relaxing on the balcony told us that Swissa's tours leave on Sundays and Wednesdays - they don't have trips on the Sabbath.
Heading back to Paddle Nepal, we decided to try to negotiate a better price. With four of us, we figured that we had a little more negotiating power, but when we got there, they only gave us 10 dollars off each: the trip was 140 dollars per person. When we asked them why there was such a large price difference between Paddle Nepal and Swissa, they said that their guides were much more experienced, their trips were smaller (at about 20 rafters per trip), and their gear was higher quality. We told them we'd think about it.
Outside, we screwed up our noses at the 25 dollar difference, but in the end, we all agreed: we still wanted to do it, and Paddle Nepal seemed like they had their shit together.
We walked back in after a couple of minutes and put down our deposit. Next, we filled out forms with an emergency contact and our insurance information. The guides told us to return at 5:30 tonight.
Walking out of Paddle Nepal, we were all psyched. Reminding ourselves that the best preparation for traveling is forming low expectations, we told ourselves that we would still be happy even if it rained for three days and there were hardly any rapids. Given our experience on the Ganga (minus the rain) this is very nearly true: just being on a boat with beautiful scenery is a blast.
For the rest of the day, we decided to walk up to the Peace Pagoda. To get there, we followed the shoreline out of town. The water was perfectly still, and our path led us over swinging bridges, along a river, and to a dam. We crossed over to fields of rice paddies, and as we walked, we watched men and women bathing in the stream and groups of families walking. For the festival, each one of them had foreheads marked with red paint and some sort of grain - it sort of looked like pieces of rice had been mixed in with the red paint.
As we walked, the temperature grew warmer and warmer until all of us were sweating. Around the same time, we got lost. To our right, a path led through the woods, and ahead of us, another path led us through more rice paddies. We headed through the rice paddies.
After a few more minutes, we asked a family by the side of the path if we were headed towards the Peace Pagoda. They assured us that we were, but a few more meters down the path, we came to another fork.
Hearing footsteps behind us, we turned around and found a sweet, thin boy with red paint on his forehead. He gave us an enormous smile and told us that he would bring us to the Peace Pagoda Path.
Rajj told us that he wants to be a trekking guide when he grows up. He's 13 years old, and today, his family had a big breakfast and blessed each other for Deshain. As he walked, he barely panted and he answered all of our questions gracefully, in beautiful English. We followed him, and about 10 minutes later, we found the main path. Tipping Rajj, we told him that he would make a wonderful trekking guide one day.
Back on the right path, we hiked the last 30 minutes to the top. The path led through the woods, and the higher we got, the more monkeys we saw swinging through the branches. As we walked, we paired off by gender and talked.
Even though Stacy and I have known each other for more than 6 years now, ours has been a slow process of getting to know one another. We're finally at a point where we feel comfortable talking about anything and everything, and we spent our walk talking non-stop about a lot of the stuff that matters most. It felt wonderful to have a long, easy talk with a familiar, friendly face. Stacy and Kyle make me feel right at home, even when we're really on the opposite side of the world.
At the top of the hill, we climbed Peace Pagoda. At the top, we could see out over the lake and Pokhara below, and over to the hills and mountains on the other side. It started to sprinkle a little bit, and the four of us walked down a little ways to a restaurant for some grub. Joshua ordered us all some Vegetable Chowmein, and we continued chatting, telling Kyle and Stacy about our farm and finding out about their plans for the Peace Corps and Law School.
When the vegetable Chowmein came, we all chowed down, and when it came time to pay, we all forked over an exorbitant 150 rupees per plate - the restaurant keeper explained that it was festival today. Joshua retorted that that should mean that the customer pays less, not more. We agreed to disagree.
We walked back down the hill through the rain. While we walked, we kept talking, and before we knew it, we were back in Pokhara. Stopping at the guest house to change, we headed back to Paddle Nepal to attend the informational meeting. In a room above the main office, we each drank a free soda and met our leader. Aloo told us a little bit about our upcoming trip down the Kali Gandaki, and Melissa, a kayaker from California, asked us to buy her photographic services. For 20 additional dollars, we could buy a CD of the photos she planned to take. After some grumbling, enough people coughed up the extra cash, and Melissa was able to join our trip.
After the meeting, the four of us met back up with Stephen and a couple more friends that Kyle and Stacy had met on the Circuit, Julian and Carla. At the Olive Cafe, we all ordered Mediterranean-inspired plates of humous, pita, greek salad, and pasta, and then ate as we talked. Carla is from Chile, and when I told her that Joshua and I are buying a farm, she lit up. For the past three years, she's been studying Sustainable Management in Japan, and her dream is one day to own a farm as well. We talked about the pros and cons of local economies, genetically modified food, and the privileges of talking food ethics.
When we finished eating, I started to feel a little over-tired, so Joshua and I headed home right away. Tonight, we had the treat of a very soft mattress.
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