Trekking in lower Annapurna

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In addition to my camera card getting a virus, so too did I. Cathy thought I might have had Erythema multiforme with target lesions. Which was interesting! It interested her as she hasn't seen many of them but she now thinks they were sand-fly bites as I haven't died. I have however had a stinker of a cough and cold, even taking to my bed, which postponed the start of our trekking by a day.

The trek started with a 1 hour taxi ride from Pokhara to Nayapul which in itself was an event. Off we set in a rattling Suzuki where household light switches had been installed on wires hanging beneath the dashboard, though for what reason I have no idea. I am not that tall but my head was almost hitting the roof, though it may have been from the foam cushions used to supplement the upholstery which had itself been neatly enveloped with covers made from patterned net curtains with embroidered sections in the middle of the backs of the seats. The internal door panels had been customised with photographic scenes of Sydney Harbour Bridge, loving hands, hearts and soppy words, prior to being laminated with a piece of polythene. Leaving Pokhara behind, the countryside became countryside with green grass and fields, though the road worsened. There were near boulders at times and steps. That might sound farcical or impossible for a road but no word of a lie. Where the road had subsided or collapsed, repair was left to nature and although rounded at the edges, there were 9 inch to 1 foot steps down and up for the rattling Suzuki to negotiate. No wonder it rattled as it braked heavily to tackle each obstacle if it had been seen and more if it had not. Now we are in a country which has no border with the sea, yet we drove for a while on a coast road. How? At the top, he put the car into neutral, switched off the ignition and off we set, rattling our way down the other side, often touching 50kph, till a near emergency stop for yet another step. Then, with what was left with the momentum, a gear was picked, the ignition switched on and a lurch forward as we bump-started once more over the bumps and potholes of the mountain road. We were dropped off and headed on foot, walking briskly down the dirt-track of a high street with shops, houses, ponies and one chap, still pink from Holi, lying asleep in the middle of the road, as tractors drove round him and locals looked on, bemused.

We had been told that there were some 2000 steps to be negotiated, we later found out it was nearer 4000, but who’s counting? Our start was gentle, a lovely day, not too hot but bright with birds singing, streams rushing and hundreds of butterflies in so many different colours and sizes from a half inch wing span to some up to four inches.

We stopped for lunch and continued again with relative ease until early afternoon, when we stopped for a beer. I don’t know if it was the beer or the terrain, probably both, but the afternoon started to get harder as mules, packed with sacks of provisions, jangled and clopped their way past as others, empty, came down, having provided for the villages ahead of us. The dust under foot was fine particles of eroded mica, spilled pots of Humbrol Enamel - bronze; (the bronze we painted the 2 propellers on HMS Hood. A whole pot for just a couple of propellers and maybe one piece the size of a pinhead and then it went off!) And we carried on up. A big up, until we reached our first night’s stop, a little outside Ulleri at 2000m, a rise of 930m that day, a near oasis, part way up a one in one slope, with a lawn, a green and pleasant lawn. Dumping our bags, we were shown up a short but steep flight of wooden stairs to our room - double aspect, 2 beds, 2 blankets, 2 pillows and 2 pounds! Oh and hot water, a rare luxury at these heights. Although initially alone, 2 Danish girls later arrived and later still, Ned Kelly rolled into town, wanting rooms for 7.

Ned was bearded, wore a dirt-brown poncho and topped himself with a dung-brown fedora, though spoke with an American accent. Then his posse arrived in dribs and drabs. An Aussie, a couple of Germans, an English lad and his girlfriend and an oddball with wispy blonde beard and dreadlocks bundled into a bulging balaclava without the hole for a face. He loped about the place like a lost soul with mudded hand prints slapped on the back of his jacket, a bit like the brown stripes and “John” in capitals, daubed on the back of a dog we saw it in Pokhara but nowhere near as funny as he, John, with tail wagging, happily ran and wee’d his way up and down the high street, clearly oblivious of the cruel graffiti joke that had been played upon him. Perhaps oddball was also oblivious. Who knows? Who cares?

Up and away by eight, after Masala tea for breakfast, to tackle the next flight of steps onward and upward. It was sunny and warm as we entered the rhododendron woodland with more butterflies and splatters of creamy white in the green, as Magnolia blossomed in the canopy. We reached Ghorepani at 2860m in five hours and chose our lodgings, another 2 pounds, though now a lot colder. After supper, it was party-time as porters, guides and locals sat round the oil drum, converted into a heater, its hollow tum, fed with wood into holes cut into its base, as Nepali folk chanted and clapped and danced and we all joined in.

Some arose at 4.30am but we left it until 5am to get out of bed dress and start our darkened hike up Poon Hill. Arriving at 5.45am, we had reached 3210m and chose a place to sit to watch the sun rise over the Annapurna range. Then of all the places in all the world, an elderly Japanese couple had to stand where I had put our things. Given their age we were surprised they had managed the climb. He looked like “Ah Glasshopper” ‘s tutor, but for the Nikon slung round his neck. All became clear later on when we saw them astride mules, as their cameras swung from side to side on their necks, the Japanese not the mules.

Our day’s walk was through woodland, trees like sentinels, bearded with moss and lichen with varicose, hardened, bronzed and boot-burnished roots, as if from a quality piece of antique furniture. From these trees, monkey-like Legurs leapt and swung and we also saw what we were told were wild pigs. The day ended at Chuile, a drop to 2306m, as our bedroom was accessed by a concrete staircase and balcony, neither of which had any handrail or balustrade along its length. Another sign of H&SE where, if you saw the programme of the Welsh H&SE inspector, he would have had apoplexy! Indeed, airports slap on “Warning Heavy” stickers on anything over 25kg yet the porters here think nothing of carrying 50kg suspended from head bands round their foreheads. That’s not just lifting it but carrying it up steep inclines.

Tonight’s communal room had a 14 inch television, round which half the local community sat, enthralled by a very hammy “Nepallywood” or perhaps “Appallywood”, badly dubbed filmed and synchronized with the sound of fists hitting cabbages a second after the……. impact! What however was noticeable, was the 3 year old boy who helped bring in the washing from the line and took his own cleared plate and spoon back to the kitchen at the end of his meal, to come back and dance in front of the TV.

Our next day’s walk was to Ghandruk via Komrung, partway over a newly constructed path with silver boulders, shining in the sun like hammered breast plates. We were not on a main trail and after some time, asked a local the way to Komrung and were directed downhill, so off we set, until we could see the river. This wasn’t right, Komrung was 2300m and the river was 1800m and we were now at about 60m above the latter, yet still we were being advised to go down! Biding our time with a sugary masala tea, we waited for a guide who was coming up who explained that Komrong was up but Kimrong was the river below, so back up we climbed the 400m to where we had been first told to go down! By now we were experiencing our first spots of rain this trip, so the opportunity was taken to have lunch where we were invited to the kitchen for a dal bhat, cooked in front of us on an open fire. After the rain, we headed off down to Ghandruk - 1940m to the previously recommended Gurung Cottages where we arrived just before much more rain and thunder. This place was luxury. Thick mattresses, en suite bathroom, exceedingly good food and the best banana fritters, this side of Kathmandu! Though we had to pay for such luxury. Not 2 pounds but 4 pounds 28p. And so the following morning we had breakfast in the sun as the snow-white Annapurna mountains towered over us, prior to ending a most magnificent and enjoyable trek. Well done Jennifer, an excellent recommendation. Thankyou.

Photographs to follow as concerns about reliability of virus cover again.

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