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May 3rd : Ghasa to Tukuche -
Awake long before daybreak, dogs bark noisily for hours in the night. And now a rooster, endlessly cock-a-doodle-doing, well before dawn. This room has mice, bugs, spiders & noise. The least charming to date.
We’re on the road my 7:15 - I can't get out of there fast enough; It's filthy; Legs are stiff & sore, of course, but I’m still feeling strong & healthy, and glad to be moving again.
Early in the morning the army runs up the hill, local women & children come down the hill with tumplines - large straw baskets resting between their shoulders, the tumpline is the strap across the top of their head, close to but not exactly resting upon their forehead. They pick up mounds of dung, put them into their baskets, and carry them back up the hill to the fertilize the field across from the tea house.
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Men in slippers hike up hill with large unwieldy cages full of roosters on their backs.
We start the trek from Ghasa to Lete. We continue to follow the Kali Ghandaki north, surrounded by views of Dhaulagiri, Nilgiri and Annapurna all day, disappearing and reappearing behind clouds and bends in the road or trail.
Sometimes we’re on the road, other times we step off and follow the trail (shortcuts); Since the river is low it’s possible to use the river bed as a short cut, cutting back & forth & avoiding the long bends in the road.
About the road: They say it’s usually awful, dusty, full of jeeps & ocasional buses belching diesel and stirring up dust, but there’s a Maoist strike, and the only impact it’s having on me right now is that there’s no traffic on the road, which makes my trek pleasant. The impact on those in the cities is far more noticeable. Traffic has come to a stand still in Kathmandu and Pokhera. Another tourist tells me “I was in Pokerha & stepped into a shop with a half open door. The owner pulled the steel curtain shut. When it was time to go he looked out through a crack, came back & said ‘no go now .. must wait 15 - 20 minutes.” Most I talk with who are willing to discuss politics at all tell me as much as they are in favor of the Maoists stated goals (the end of government corruption, the beginning of services like education and health care available for all, electricity 24 hours a day) they are against their tactics, which are said to be intimidation, coercion &, too often violence. No, the ends don’t justify the means. The means and the end are one in the same. I’m told the Maoist, in order to ensure there was a strong showing at the recent rally in Kathmandu, went from house to house in the country side demanding “Who, from this house will be coming to the rally with us?” Then names written down, people collected and forces to participate. The violence in the first decade of this century still causes sadness - and most people won’t talk about it. It’s a time when Nepal (which, according to many stands for “Never End Peace And Love”) lost her innocence, with Nepali killing Nepali. I’ve yet to meet anyone who calls themselves a Maoist. Every one I meet wants an end to the corruption and wants it done without violence. And as we move further away from Pokhera the strike has less impact in these mountains towns, although graffiti painted on the rocks announces the presence of the “Communist Youth League” or “Free Himal State.”
The river at this altitude is a mud plane, built mostly upon uneven boulders. Since it’s pre-monsoon it’s easy to cut across it, occasionally walking over temporary bridges, cutting time off the trek. We cross high suspension bridges, forests of fir, juniper, cypress, surrounded by cultivated fields.
As I walk, I call myself to attention. Be here, now, in Nepal. Family, friends, work float by, but for the most part they’re barely present, and I’m here, where my feet are. And it’s a blissful place in which to be.
We lunch in a small village of Larjung. P suggests we stop but I want to keep going. It’s only 2:15 and Tukuche is just an hour away. If we get there tonight it guarantees we‘ll be in Jomoson when the plane arrives with the rest of the group trekking to upper Mustang.
“Is that ok with you?” I ask.
She says “Of course. It’s your vacation.”
She looks pale - I don’t know her well enough to know if she’s not feeling well by looking at her. I ask and she says “I feel fine.”
So we take off for Tukuche, and during the last 30 minutes the skies open again and I worry about her, walking in the rain when she looks so depleted. When we get to Tukuche an hour after Larjung I tell her I’d like to stay in the High Plains Inn. I’ve read it has internet access.
The people in this northern area are different then the Nepali’s just south. The feeling isn’t as friendly, “Namaste, namaste” doesn’t ring out as I trek through. And while it’s nice to be out of the punishing heat, already the cold has started. I wrap my fleece around my shoulders.
Even with the oncoming cold the trek today was the perfect trek for me. A relatively early start, feeling strong & healthy all day, 760 meter ascent (2500 foot) , 200 meter descent (650 foot), but spread out over 7 hours over walking that all feels gentle.
The High Plains Inn is a Nepali-Dutch establishment, old Thakali wooden home, carved doorways, windows, balconies. There’s a poster of Clint Eastwood in the front lobby, as well as fresh pressed Dutch coffee. I ask about the internet. “No more - too expensive” explains the proprietress. Which is fine. The hotel is lovely, with clean tiled bathroom and western toilet, plush Chinese blankets & two pairs of slippers next to each bed. I order a bowl of noodle soup. Before turning in I step out into the street and look up, watching the last rays of sun spread across Dhaulagiri and Nilgiri North.
Bliss absolute.
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cheryl walsh
non-member comment
thanks
thanks for the reminder Noreen. I too will try to be where my feet are. I'm glad you're having a good experience. Can't wait to see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!