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.