Sinuwa to Deorali to Bamboo

November 9, 2010

We scheduled breakfast for 5:30, and once we had inhaled our crispy pancakes, we finished packing and began heading towards Base Camp. We left Joshua's pack back at Shangrila Guesthouse, and without the extra weight, we flew. Our guide book suggests that the distance from Deorali to Base Camp should take about three and a half hours. Determined to make it there before the crowds, we made it there in two.

Unlike the Circuit, the Base Camp trek takes you mostly through forest and brush. The views are glimpses of waterfalls, clouds rolling in, and one narrow valley. It is decidedly less grand. There are no panoramic vistas, no sweeping ranges. The scale is much smaller.

Except for Base Camp itself. The Annapurna Sanctuary is an amphitheater of the Annapurna's tallest and most formidable mountains. Base Camp sits in a cup below Annapurna I, II, and South, Gangapurna, Machapurchchre, Khangra... This is where many of the world's best climbers have made names for themselves, have summited, have died. In fact, the lookout where we sat and contemplated this gorgeous landscape is crowned with a memorial of Anatoli Boukreev, killed in an avalanche on one of the Annapurnas. Here, the omnipresent prayer flags flap in the wind, and through their multi-colored strands, we see massive, snow-covered mountains reaching up into the bluest of skies. Glaciers pitch down rock faces, a huge valley of morraine and till spreads out below, and for 360 degrees, we can see the tips of the Himalaya. It's beautiful, and although the Base Camp trek paled in comparison to the Circuit, this view is crowning.

The walk to the top gained over 1000 meters, but we hardly noticed. By now, we've gained both our trekking legs and altitude lungs, and whether it's up, down, or flat, we just go. A river runs alongside the trail, and ahead, we can see just a glimmer of white-capped mountain.

Machapurchche Base Camp has a number of guest houses, but we passed it by. After a long afternoon and evening at Deorali, we're disenchanted with high altitude lodges. These camps are no longer villages inhabited by locals; they are temporary dwellings, and when I'm here, I get the distinct feeling that I'm just a dollar sign. The food is two to three times the cost of lower villages, and it's some of the worst I've had in either India or Nepal. The rooms are cramped and dark, and whereas many of the other lodges offer free heating in the dining room during cold evenings, these lodges charge 100 rupees per person. In other words, they could make nearly 2,000 rupees off of just lighting a fire. It just doesn't feel very nice. I get the sense that they're trying to squeeze every rupee out of me, and in exchange, I get cold, disgusting food and a very hard bed in a cold, dark, dank room.

ANYWAY. That's why we didn't stay up near the Base Camp. The amphitheater was lovely, and we sat there in awe for a little less than an hour, but when we saw the masses coming, we waved goodbye to one of the most beautiful views we've seen so far and started walking. The camera's dying battery survived just long enough to capture shots that will remind us of what we saw but never quite do those hills justice.

On our way back, we passed dozens of trekkers heading up. It took us nearly as long to get down as it did to get up - we're not nearly as fiesty when it comes to our descent - but we eventually arrived back in Deorali around 11:30.

Picking up Joshua's pack, we eschewed the lunch crowds in Deorali and headed down to Himalaya Hotel. On our way, we ran into Cory, Shelby, and Gemma from the rafting trip. They started two days after us, and they were much in agreement: the Circuit is better than Base Camp. We stopped to chat for a few minutes, but all of us were anxious to find accomodation for the night, so we wished each other well and headed back on the trail.

At Himalaya Hotel, Joshua and I stopped and ordered a couple plates of veg fried rice. After just a pancake for breakfast, we were absolutely starving. Per usual for a high altitude lodge, the food wasn't great, but it was filling, and once we had cleaned our plates, we continued on trail.

After Himalaya Hotel, the trail once again ventures into bamboo forests, waterfalls, and green branches with the sounds of monkeys singing in the background. The trail was mostly downhill, but we were starting to flag. After an hour, we passed through another village. We briefly considered staying, but both decided to continue on.

At 2:30, it felt like evening. The clouds had rolled in, and there were fewer trekkers on trail. I worried for a bit about getting a room, but after eight hours of trekking, we found ourselves in Bamboo. Although we had intended to make our way to Sinuwa, both of us were beat, and we decided to try. In our guide book, Bamboo is supposed to fill up quickly, so we didn't really expect to find anything, but the third guest house we asked had a double with a nice patio. We dumped our packs.

Taking out my computer to catch up on some writing, I brought it outside and sat down. Instantly, the computer was the center of attention. A group of five Nepali boys ran over, fascinated. Going into my pictures, I flipped through each country we've visited, and I had all of them sounding out the words, slowly. Big Ben. London Bridge. Westminster Abbey. Glendaloch. Ireland. La Mezquita. Spain. The Alhambra. Sierra Nevada. Scotland. Salmon Leaping. The Ocean. Turkey. Caves. Cappadocia. Hot Air Balloons. Leh. Gompas. The Dalai Lama. Mani Wall. Kathmandu.

After a while, someone called them away, and they all ran off without a word, giggling. Now, Joshua's talking to a group of Brits, and I'm typing, looking out at the forest peaking out of the clouds.

***

For dinner, we ordered Dal Bhaat and tea. In the dining hall, we played cards while we waited, and a couple of American trekkers overheard us and introduced themselves. One was from Seattle, recently graduated from UW. He's on a few month long trip, and just before he came to Nepal, he visited his girlfriend in Ukraine. She's a Peace Corps volunteer, but she's having a horrible time. She feels ineffective and useless. Joshua and I looked at each other. I guess we know the feeling.

The other guy was from Las Vegas, and the two of them were plowing through the Circuit and Base Camp with gusto. We chatted for a little bit, but once the food came, we turned our focus to eating.

Once we had finished, we headed off to our room to read ourselves to sleep. After a long day of hiking, it didn't take long.

November 8, 2010

Apparently, the Sherpa Guesthouse isn't actually in Sinuwa. The sign says Sinuwa, but actually, you have another 45 minutes up stairs to get to the village. We woke up and packed before breakfast, and once we had filled up on porridge and pancakes, we made our way up the stairs. It felt good to get started early; by the time we reached Sinuwa, the rest of the trekkers were rousing, but we had already been hiking for a while.

The path from Sinuwa to Deorali mostly passes through dense, green forests. Bamboo grows on either side of the trail, and numerous streams and waterfalls cut through. We walked for a few hours, passing through the small villages of Bamboo and Dobran, and after a while, we began to climb in earnest.

At Himalayan Hotel, the vegetation began to thin, and we could see the river rushing over boulders down below. A small cluster of lodges, this is where our guide recommends that you spend the night. They also recommend that you spend the night in Bamboo. We were fast-forwarding.

Past Himalayan Hotel, we continued climbing up. Someone has taken the time to place stones in the formation of many, many stairs, but they are not uniform - some are hardly two inches up, and others require us to heave our bodies up and over. We were making good time, and both of us were feeling great. We were blowing the time suggestions provided by our guide book out of the water, and passing a ton of other trekkers, I guess you could say we were getting a bit cocky.

Coming up behind us, a man dressed in a soccer jersey and satin pants came jazzercising up the hill (Joshua's word; not mine). He stopped for a second to compare the distances we'd gone in the past two days. He'd started in Pokhara yesterday. This morning, he had started from Chommrong. Pleased that he was beating us, he forged on.

As he passed, it occured to me that what he was doing was supremely idiotic. Pokhara hardly reaches 1000 meters. Annapurna Base Camp is 4200 meters. He was gaining over 3000 meters in less than two days. From what I've heard about AMS, this sounds like a recipee for disaster.

Finally, we arrived in Deorali. Waterfalls dropped from cliffs high over head, and a small cluster of guest houses sat looking out over the valley. We planned to stop here, but I rushed ahead to catch up with the jazzerciser. I asked him if he'd ever been at altitude before. No. Did Pokhara count? No. I asked him if he had any Diamox. What's that? We gave him some and told him that if he started to feel badly, he needed to turn around. He laughed, saying he was fit. We told him that didn't matter. A guy had died less than five days ago from AMS. He was fit too.

Shrugging off our concerns, he sped off, headed for Base Camp. We asked around for a room.

Although it was only 12:30, there were no double rooms left. Most of the lodges had dorm rooms, but they were very dark and cramped. I walked to Upper Deorali. No luck there, either.

Settling for a dank dorm room at Shangrila, we ordered lunch. When the Dal Bhaat came, it was cold. The Dal had no lentils in it. I bit into the cold, curried vegetables and spit out something tough and chewy, thinking it was a stray, whole piece of cardamom. Nope. They were pellets of mutton.

That Dal Bhaat was the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. I don't even know what possessed me to force it down, except I was hungry.

We donned our jackets and watched the clouds roll in while we read. Just as in Letdar, we were the first trekkers to arrive, but after a while, the others straggled in, grabbing their keys from their porters. They did not have dark, dank rooms. They did not have cold Dal Bhaat.

Other trekkers without porters came by, frantic to find rooms. Our lodge was starting to give out floor space in their dining room. Desperate, some people took it.

For dinner, I ordered an innocuous bowl of soup. By now, the dining room was so crowded that there was no where to sit. We huddled in a corner and ate.

We weren't enjoying ourselves. It didn't seem fair that we had woken up early and scooted our asses up a mountain, only to get a dark, cramped room with cold Dal Bhaat while others had slept in, taken breaks to eat lunch and take pictures, and then strolled in two or three hours after us to pick up keys to nicely lit, double rooms. Joshua, sitting next to me, seethed, muttering 'survival of the richest.'

When it was dark, there was nothing left to do (nowhere left to go), except go to bed. We stumbled off to our dark room, laid out our sleeping bags, and laid down on a piece of plywood that passed for a bed. I felt bad for being grouchy, like I should be able to roll with the punches or something, but the fact that other lodges have been able to provide so much better accomodation made me feel like these guys were just taking advantage of us. It wasn't a nice feeling.