#28 - Annapurna Circuit (1) - Besishahar to Pisang

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Trekking the Annapurna Circuit

Dreaming of an adventure like ours? Find out how we did it at JulieAndDariansWorldTourGuide.com

11 Mar 2008
Today was the big pre-trek preparations day, having arrived back in Kathmandu from Chitwan National Park last night. We’ve now been in Nepal for a whole week now without seeing any real mountains or snow, so we’re really hanging out for it now. That might explain why we changed our minds this morning and decided to try and do the entire Annapurna Circuit, rather than just the Jomson trek. It’s a big call, because it will increase our number of trekking days from 10 to about 23, and the highest point is more than 1000m higher. We were sitting in the que at the Indian Embassy waiting to get our visas and Julie just turns to me and says ‘stuff it, lets give it a try’. I think silently she’s been toying with the idea for a while.
This decision means we have less time to spend in India, which we will probably regret later. Also, we probably won’t have time to climb Mt Kilamanjaro in Tanzania before our African tour starts on the 20th of April, but I suppose you have to make some compromises. After the hassle of getting the Indian visa, Nepal is looking more and more attractive anyway.
We spent the day running around Kathmandu. Having decided not to go with a trekking company, we had to do all the organising ourselves, but this was not really difficult. First we bought the permit to trek in the Annapurna Conservation Area and registered our names on the new electronic Trekkers Information Management System. Then we visited the KEEP office, which is a non-profit information service that has loads of tips for independent trekkers, and stocks essentials like maps and the hard-to-find iodine-based water purification tablets, which are a must if you want to avoid throwing away plastic bottles every day. After that, we had a last minute look for trekking gear, and bought some gloves, a wind-proof jacket for Julie and some small down-filled sleeping bags. Finally, we enjoyed our last fancy restaurant meal and set about lightening our backpacks by separating essentials and non-essentials, leaving everything we don’t need in our guesthouse lockup.

12 March 2008
Grabbing some bread and a fresh juice from Kathmandu street vendors on the way, we taxi to the New Bus Station to jump on the minibus to Beshisahar that we booked yesterday. Of course, the first bloke we meet at the bus station is our bus manager (how does that always happen?), and he takes us to our bus. The bus, it turns out, is not a tourist bus but a beaten-up local bus full of brightly coloured, swinging decorations and blasting out the latest Nepali hits from squeaky speakers. I make a mental note not to buy from a travel agent again and settle in for what will surely be another infuriating 7 hours, rather than a comfortable 4 hours if only I’d paid another 300 rupees ($AU5)! We leave the station with all seats full and for a second I’m optimistic, but pull up 50m down the road to cram another 20 people onboard. An hour and a half goes by before we get out of Kathmandu and Julie and I are hallucinating on the diesel fumes, dreaming of the clean mountain air that we’ll be able to enjoy if we ever get there. The driver stops for his first toilet break before we even leave the city. As soon as we’re on the open road, the inevitable happens and the bus breaks down, on a blind corner winding around a steep hill. What next?!
It is during this ride that Julie comes to appreciate the Nepali way of queuing (or lack thereof), and begins to work on her own technique. First, it’s the toilets at lunchtime, where she’s barged out of the way by a young woman who obviously believes she’s entitled to be first in line. After gathering her thoughts, Julie discovers that despite her slight frame, a swift hip-and-shoulder does the trick when you’re 6-inches taller than everyone else. Second, it’s the clamour for seats when we switch buses. Without hesitation this time, Julie charges the door, backpack and all, and amazes both of us when we find ourselves in the two best seats, receiving smiles of respect from our fellow passengers.
The bus finally pulls into Besishahar in the late afternoon, much to everyone’s relief. We’d blown a tyre about a half-hour out, our second break-down of the day, and had spent almost an hour on the side of the road right in the middle of Maoist country. So grabbing our packs, Julie and I began an uphill march through town in search of the start of the track. We’d hoped to put in 2 hours of walking this afternoon to make the next town of Bhulebhule by tonight, but with light fading we begin to look for a guest house. Up ahead we see yet another local bus that appears to be preparing to head in the direction of Bhulebhule and this is confirmed when we question one of the passengers. Glad that we’ll be able to make tonight’s goal after all, and despite our map telling us it’s only a walking track, we climb on board. Two hours and a death defying ride later, we stagger off the bus in Bhulebhule and crash at the first guest house we see. Less said the better.

13 March 2008
Our first day of trekking…finally! Leaving Bhulebhule via a narrow cable bridge covered in donkey shit, we are energetic and excited. The morning is warm and sunny, and we follow an easy path leading up the river. I’m surprised by the lack of wear in the track and find myself wondering if it’s true that 15,000 people really do this trek every year. It’s a while before we see any other trekkers, but soon there are three small groups walking within sight of each other, and we continue like that throughout the morning. One is a couple about our age, making steady progress up the valley with short, regular rest stops. Our pace is the same as theirs and we overtake each other often. We find out that the man is from England and his girlfriend from Taiwan. They’ve decided to carry their own gear and go as far as Manang, a 5-6 day trip, before catching a flight back to Pokhara from there. The other group is a trio of Dutch trekkers, a couple and their friend. The couple have just completed the Annapurna Sanctuary Trek to Annapurna Base Camp, aka ABC. They were then joined by their friend for this trek and are planning to take it easy and see how far they can go, but don’t expect to take on the Thorong La pass with their already weary legs. All three are very tall, and they walk almost twice as fast as us, stopping rarely but taking long breaks and arriving early at their night stops, thus covering the same ground as us each day.
There is a lot of local traffic on the road as well. School kids, mothers carrying babies and even barefooted elderly monks shuffle past us and disappear around the next bend. We realise that those with walking sticks have a big advantage, and stare enviously at one of the Dutchmen, who is carrying shiny new ski poles. These knees won’t survive three weeks without some assistance, I tell myself, and Julie and I purchase some freshly cut wooden poles at a trackside tea house. Though I don’t know it at the time, the two 50c walking sticks I buy myself will become my loyal and treasured companions over the course of the trek. Long, light and equal in length, I am able to use one in each hand to propel myself up hills and gently lower myself down steep steps, thus shifting much of the work from my legs to my arms. Julie selects a short, stocky stick with a handle at right angles. We’re ready to take on anything.
By late-morning we’ve worked up quite a sweat and we’re ready for a longer break. We come across a little sign post pointing to a smaller track running off down hill towards the river, with the words “Hot Springs” painted on it. It looks remarkably like the kind that Wyle E. Coyote would erect to tempt the Road Runner into his trap, but curiosity wins over caution and we follow it off the main path. After a few minutes of descending we parallel the main path for about 20 minutes before the track narrows and eventually disappears. Far below us are a few small buildings on the edge of the river, presumably the hot springs. We give up and curse Wyle E. for misleading us. I’m hungry and tired and in no mood to back-track all that way so, guessing that the main path can’t be far above us we turn up hill and head off cross-country, traversing dozens of narrow terraced rice paddies before finally meeting the main path. A farmer greets us on one of the terraces. He has his two buffalos harnessed and is ploughing the earth in preparation for the wet season.
Lunch can’t come fast enough and we stop at the first tea house we find. It’s a mud cottage with sticks and palm leaves for a roof, hanging off the side of the mountain at the entrance to a small village. A big, hand painted sign tells us what’s on offer to eat in misspelled, primary school English. An old man greets us enthusiastically, gesturing to two patched up plastic seats and takes our order of “Two Daal Baht, thanks” before running off to fetch his wife. As we wait, he runs off again to fetch a bundle of sticks, then again to fetch a bucket of water, and we realise this is no fast food place. Mental note: eat where others are eating.
After lunch we crest a hill at a larger town, then spend the afternoon progressing steadily as dark storm clouds roll down the valley towards us. Julie notices that she has two shadows, then realises that one belongs to a slight, middle-aged village lady who is following her closely. We stop to let her past but she stops also, beaming a wide smile at us. We continue and so does the lady. A while later, we stop for a rest and the lady stops with us once again. I figure she obviously wants something from us and begin to get annoyed. Frowning, she points to her wrist, where a digital watch is attached the wrong way around, the display flashing to indicate that it is in ‘set’ mode. I fix the watch and attach it to her wrist the right way around. The woman’s smile doubles and she thanks me with several nods of her head before shuffling off ahead of us.
The storm breaks as we arrive in the town of Ghurmu, and we are greeted by a lady outside her guesthouse, who herds us into a room. Her guesthouse is most impressive, and her pizza excellent. We learn that she used to be a cook in Kathmandu. She tells us that cooks and heats water using bio-fuel harvested from the toilet’s septic tank, rather than using precious wood as many others do, and proudly demonstrates the system to me. Julie’s night is haunted by a family of huge huntsmen spiders.

14 March 2008
We get off to a slow start, owing to some very stiff legs. Descending to the river and crossing another cable bridge, we pass another town, the home of a very impressive hydro power station and the current end of the vehicle-capable road. From then on, we share the track with the donkey trains. These columns of up to 20 donkeys carry supplies of every type to villages throughout the Himalayas that are not serviced by road. They are herded by one or two men wielding sticks, whips, rocks and anything else that will get their animals moving. We soon discover that the herders, or Donkey Mahouts as we call then, are either very nasty or very nice to their animals, and that the nice ones seem to have a lot more success. Where there are donkeys, there is donkey shit, and we soon learn to tell the real track from the detours and side tracks by the shit. In some places it is the only source of nutrients on otherwise desolate patches of ground, and encourages grass and plants to grow, which in turn feed the donkeys thus continuing the cycle. Some areas are so steep and unstable that without the grass from the donkey shit, the track would wash away. Soon we enter an area such as this. Men are working along the track in order to continue the road, breaking, shovelling, carrying and filling large gabian baskets with rock.
We stop for lunch and while we wait for it to be cooked we head down to the creek in search of another hot spring, this time mentioned in my guide book. Fifteen minutes out of town we arrive at the spring, following the scent of rotten eggs. Steam rises from a shallow natural rock pool bounded on one side by a boulder and the other the raging, icy river. Water trickles from beneath the boulder and all the submerged rocks are covered in a white sulphuric substance. Excited to have a hot bath all to myself, I test the water and yelp in pain - it’s damn hot! After further investigations I find the place where the hot and cold water meet, but realised that they don’t mix very well. The icy cold water stays on the bottom and the boiling hot water on the top. I strip to my shorts and find that a semi-satisfying bath can be achieved by thrashing about at the frontier between hot and cold, although staying still for too long gives you a simultaneous burn/freeze sensation. To add to the feeling, the skin on one leg is throbbing where I brushed a stinging nettle on the way down. As I spread out on a rock to dry, I am narrowly missed by a bunch of rocks, tumbling from the road above. I look up and shout at the dark faces staring down at me. Shit! We’re right underneath some road works!
Leaving the village after lunch, track becomes perilously narrow and we follow some very nervous donkeys along a path that looks like it was first walked over only yesterday. Each step causes small rocks to tumble down towards the river, right where we were sunbaking earlier! We later hear that this section of the track was blasted only a day or two ago, causing trekkers to be delayed as the alignment of the track was being uncovered from under the resulting rubble. To say that the spring was a dangerous place to be is an understatement. We continue with a renewed respect for the road workers that I’d yelled at before, who were obviously trying to warn us and who risk their lives every day building these roads.
With renewed energy after the dip (and the scare), we made good time in the afternoon, pushing on past the town of Chame, across the river again and up the hill to a very basic lodge called Kelson Guest House. This cute place, virtually alone on the mountain side, came with a stunning view that made up for the lack of electricity and hot water. After having a very cold shower, we set about doing some laundry at the water fountain. These concrete slabs have been erected in most settlements throughout the mountains, where a pipe directs a continuous flow of water from a nearby mountain stream. They serve as public baths, laundries, animal watering stations and meeting places for all the local inhabitants.
In the evening, we joined the owner of the guest house and her three young children by the fire in the kitchen. As well as the young family, we shared the guest house for the first time other travellers, an old Nepali man and his horse.

15 March 2008
The morning air is crisp. We start the day with an immediate climb along this busy trade route. Cages of chickens are carried by men and donkeys alike.
We walk with a lone American lady named Brenda. She tells us she is a 58 year old English teacher who worked in Thailand for several years before reading about the Annapurna Trek and coming to Nepal to give it a go 6 months ago. During her first attempt, she picked up a lung infection only days into the trek, and had to turn back. Determined to try again, she’d waited out the winter in Pokhara for a second chance, this time giving herself 50 days to complete the circuit. She explains that working in Thailand and then Nepal does not pay well, around 48,000 Rupees per year (AU$8000), and describes ways that she is stretching her meagre budget. Talking to Brenda changes my whole perspective of this trek, because up until now I’ve seen it as a mission that we’ll either succeed or fail, depending on whether we get over the Thorong La pass or not. Here is someone who is giving it a go despite the fact that her chances of making it over would be slim even if she could afford a porter for the pass, which she can’t, yet she’s determined to give it her best shot and will be happy either way.
Before long we get our first clear view of snowy peaks, as we depart from the valley that has been getting progressively steeper, narrower and darker, and emerge into a wide, flat section bathed in sunlight. There is an archway and a sign, accompanied by a military outpost, to commemorate this great bottleneck in the valley. The sign explains that we’re crossing into the district of Manang and approaching the village of Tal. An army officer greets us and accompanies us into town. There’s no official reason for his company, he’s going to do some shopping, but he uses the opportunity to drill me with questions about myself. He’s particularly interested in my salary, which I’m reluctant to discuss but do my best to put it into perspective by talking about the cost of living in our two countries.
Tal looks like a town from the old Wild West; a single flat, straight path is bounded by various enterprises on either side of the road. Horses and donkeys are tied to watering troughs, and tea house operators compete to attract trekkers for morning tea.
Leaving Tal I try my hand at donkey herding when we come across a large donkey train giving their lone master a particularly hard time on a narrow uphill section. Overtaking the majority of the group, I fall in behind the troublesome leaders and shoo them along for a while, thus picking up the pace of the whole group. After a while we come to a creek and the donkey herder calls them to a halt for a drink, thanking me with a nod of the head and a shy ‘Danyabat’.
We come upon a family group making their way home to Manang after spending the winter in Kathmandu. The group includes four generations (!), all heavily laden with the kinds of things you can’t buy way out here. They are surprisingly fast, and are excited to be on their way home after a long absence, telling us how they can’t wait to see their cat again, who’s been left with neighbours. We can sympathise with that.


MESSAGE POSTED ON 11.03.2008

Annapurna Circuit Trek 12 March - 3 April 2008

Hi all! Julie and I have loved our first week in Nepal, and I'm taking this last minute chance to fill you in on whats been happenning.

We've spent the past week in Kathmandu and the Chitwan National Park, near the Indian border. Tomorrow we're setting off on a 3 week trek in the Himalayas. We're following the Annapurna Circuit, which is a famous and 'well trodden' trail around a big chunk of the range. It takes us up to about 5400m at the highest point. It should be excellent, we can't wait. Stay tuned for the photos when we get back.

Just to let you know, we've researched the trek pretty carefully and decided not to take a tour company, guides or porters, because it's pretty well marked and there's plenty of support on the way. We're staying in 'teahouses' all the way. Of course, we've done all the right things by registering with the Conservation Par, our embassies and the rest, leaving our insurance details should anything bad happen.

Kathmandu is a cool place. The people are nice and it has a great travellers atmosphere. Like those we'd spoken to before arriving, we've met and got along with more people here in Nepal than we did anywhere in Asia. The city's polluted and poor, but the locals do their best and their very happy people.

Chitwan NP was great. We did a 2 day walk with 2 guides who were well versed in the wildlife of the park, which is what everyone comes to see. We saw Rhino's, monkeys, bears, and even a tiger. I'll put the blog together to show you all the photos when we get some time after the trek.

Bye for now.



MESSAGE POSTED ON 16.03.2008

Hi All! Thanks for the Birthday wishes. We've managed to find internet in a tiny mountain town called Chame. We're 4 days into the Annapurna trek now, currently at 2700m. There are incredible snowy mountain peaks all around us and we spent a tough day of trekking in t-shirt, marvelling at the beautiful scenery. No 'real' blisters yet, and we've been giving each other plenty of foot and shoulder massages to keep us going.

Love to you all.

Darian and Julie



MESSAGE POSTED ON 01.04.2008

Hi All. Stiff, stinky and elated, we arrived in Birethanti last night, the riverside village that marks the end of the Annapurna Circuit. The last of the rupees we had with us paid for a taxi from there to Pokhara this morning, the 'gateway' town to the Annapurna region, where we are spending a couple of nights winding down, enjoying lifes small luxuries (hot showers, plastic money, refridgerated beer, imported beef), and waiting for our washing to dry before we head to India via Kathmandu.

The final day was spent descending about 2200m (the height of Mount Kocziusco) over 25-odd kms from the top of Poon Hill to our night spot, arriving after dark only to find that the last bus had left and we couldn't afford the evening taxi prices that would have had us in Pokhara a day earlier.

But what an epic experience! I can't wait to upload the photos, though that will have to wait until I get the camera cable (left with our superfluous stuff, laptop etc, in Kathmandu) and a decent connection. Reflecting on 3 weeks of trekking, it all hardly seems real, though sore calf muscles are a big reality check. We took it relatively easy, taking a couple of rest days along the way and preferring to pace ourselves rather than hurrying to each night location. This, of course, paid off in that Julie and I stuck it out until the end carrying everything ourselves, no guide, no porter. We even picked up some nifty souvenirs and some of the language.

Highlights included playing chicken with Yaks on trecherous every-step-could-cause-a-landslide trails, commandeering a fully laden mule-train, drinking tea at 5416m with Karma, the aptly-named Nepali who showed us the way to the top of the Thorong La pass, and washing our clothes with a couple of Indian Holy Men at the hot springs of Tatopani. But there are too many others to mention now, because I have a date with a flame grilled piece of cow and a few frothy ones.

Stay tuned for more

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Photos

Enjoying some fresh air
after too many days in Kathmandu

Old fashioned timber mill
I've got to hand it to these guys. This takes serious strength.

Village scene
Chame...Charming.

Approaching the Great Wave
This peculiar mountain formation looks also resembles the corner of a giant luge track, funnelling you left. We could still see it 3 days after we passed it, such is the shape of the Manang Valley.

The human snack truck pauses for a rest
The loads these men (and women) carry are incredible.