Going South

---

When we last left our intrepid travelers, their ragged band was breaking up on the jagged the rocks that crown the mountains above the Annapurna trail...

When you are on the trail and have little to do at night but read and write, plus, it gets freezing cold, and the only warm place is your sleeping bag, you go to bed early and get up early. So I got up not long after Eddie and Michelle woke up at 5:30. I was dismayed to note that the pain in my left knee that I had noted the previous evening, the consequence of some unnoticed insult perpitrated while descending the steep rocky slopes from Muktinath, had not gotten any better. In fact, it even hurt while I was in bed, which I don't need to tell you is a bad sign for what you can expect once you put your weight on it.

I was worried that walking on it would only make it worse, but, unwilling to give up without a fight, I took some asprin to reduce the inflamation, wrapped it up in an ace bandage, and walked stiff-legged, like a pirate with a pegleg who had made a wrong turn on the way to the ocean. If I had to, I'd finish the trek on the back of a Donkey, damnit. I found that I could walk at an almost-normal pace by stepping on a raised surface such as a rock with my right leg and swinging my left leg underneath me. I was worried, as I passed the occasional Annapurna police checkpoints, that they would tackle me thinking that I was concealing a weapon in my pants leg!

Bom and I set off from Jomsom, aiming for Kagbeni or Ghasa, both further than a normal day's hike - I think about 12 miles, but mostly on a gentle downhill. It was the first time I was hiking alone with Bom. He doesn't speak a whole lot of English, so, while he seems like a fun guy to chat with, it was difficult to go beyond basics like weather, my knee, or the occasional foray into existential philosophy. So I decided to try to learn Nepali. I don't think it's a terribly difficult language. Bom didn't know too much detail on Nepali grammar but conjugation seems minimal, and nouns don't appear to have gender, which simplifies learning hugely. I learned how to say "My knee hurts", "I am twenty nine years old", "I like you", "I like you very much", "I am hungry" and "We are going to Kalopani". The last one is my favorite, exclaimed with fist thrust triumphantly in the air towards the destination: "Hami Kalopani Jahne Ho!". So, as you can imagine, the depth of our conversation grew geometrically after this.

We passed back through Marpha (apple capital, etc) then walked along my favorite dry riverbed for much of the morning. We stopped for lunch at Kokethanti, where I met a charming Dutch couple, from the part of the Netherlands that's not Amsterdam, someplace supposedly called Maastricht. They are both police officers, and they manage to get 8 weeks vacation a year! Can you believe that? If I got that much vacation from my job, I wouldn't need to quit! Plus, they don't have to bust people for possession of Marijuana. 😊

Finally, we roll in to Kalopani around 3:30, and, as usual, pass right through it, because the guide has a favorite hotel further on. Kalopani has an acclaimed school, built by the Germans or Japanese (Bom couldn't remember which). We pass through to the next village, Lete, and stop at the Old Namaste Guest House. I'm the only trekker staying there, I don't have the company of Eddie and Michelle, and my efforts to chat with the Nepalis there don't go very far due to the language or culture barrier, so it's a bit lonely. This is the first night I'm paying for things (Kirin, the guide, covered expenses previously), and I learn that my room costs 60 rupees a night, about $0.85. Dinner was $2. Just, Wow.

While sitting in the courtyard writing, I note several porters carrying colossal baskets filled with pots and pans resting after climbing up the hill. The bundles are about 5 feet high, 3 feet wide and 2 feet deep. They probably weigh 100 lbs. As the sun goes down, the shadow of Dhauligiri engulfs us and Nilgiri, which still towers over us and it grows chilly. I go to bed at about 8:30 and wake up at 6:30 (10 hours of sleep!).

The next day is promising. It is a bit difficult, with a long, steep descent but at the end is Tatopani, a natural hot spring site that is a popular spot for trekkers and locals alike to recuperate. Fortunately, my knee, though still hurting, feels better than the previous day, so I think I can expect it to heal. Our route takes through the deepest valley in the world, so called because it is between Dhauligiri and Annapurna, at 8000+ meters, while the bottom is 2200 m. This is a technical distinction only, as you can't see either peak from the valley, whose walls, though very beautiful, are comprised of intermediate, lower ridges. The peaks are 38 km apart from one another.

After leaving Lete, we descend to a river crossing which has a police checkpoint. The check Bom's id card and wave us through, and we saunter across the narrow steel cable footbridge. Bom then says to me that, should anyone approach me and ask my nationality, I should say that I am Canadian. He informs me that that checkpoint is the last (reasonably) secured spot on the trail, and the upcoming section may have Maoists. I wonder why they chose to cut off coverage there...

The river we've been following now starts to get rough and narrow, and cuts deeply into the bottom of the steep-walled valley. The climate is much more moist here, and the walls, even though they are almost vertical, are completely covered by lush green vegetation. The roar of the valley fills my ears as I descend steep stone steps, gingerly due to the delicate state of my knee. Not long after, I discover my first Maoist slogan spray painted, in English, on a telephone pole. There is another, overgrown and disused trail that cuts audaciously into the opposite wall of the valley. My guidebook informs me that it is no longer used after sections were destroyed by rock slides. hmmmm.

INTERLUDE - A NOTE ON MAOISTS
You can't mention Nepal without addressing the issue of the Maoist insurgency that has been gripping the country. I am by no means an expert in these matters, but I will tell you this: while I have heard secondhand stories of people meeting the Maoists, I didn't meet anybody an the trail who

1) Was a Maoist, or at least would admit to it
2) Had met a Maoist
3) Had any idea where they were

At any rate, none of the stories was particularly troubling. They usually involved the affected tourist paying $13-$26 to them as a "permit fee" or in one case of a guy who didn't have the money, taking joke pictures with his camera of them holding him up, giving him the film and keeping the camera. The biggest problem the Maoists pose is that they tend to block the roads in the countryside, which is annoying if you want to get to the head of some rapids to go rafting. And they have destroyed the tourism business in the country.
NOW BACK TO THE FEATURE

The air starts to feel noticibly warmer, and the foliage begins to look tropical as we enter Tatopani at 1000 m (or so). The hotel we stay at has Tangerine trees in the back, which are a delight, as I haven't had fresh fruit since I got to Nepal. I scarfed down about 10 that night. I meet up with an Israeli guy and girl and chat with them for much of the evening, sharing bad whiskey and coke. After dinner, we head to the hot springs. A bit disappointingly, they are just square cement basins, nothing like the beautiful natural springs I went to with my friend in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. But they are good and hot, and tonic for my knees and sore leg muscles. I met another American traveling for an extented period - there aren't too many of us around. I might head South to India with him, if the timing works out.

The next day is the big one: The Ghorepani hill, 1600m up, a vertical mile. I set out with one of the Israelis from the night before, plus two intense Israeli brothers who we met that morning. Almost immediately, we hit a traffic jam: Donkey trains are coming towards us across a narrow suspension bridge, dozens at a time, without enough break for us to cross in the opposite direction. In case you are wondering, no, you do not want to squeeze by while they are walking in the opposite direction: you risk getting crushed against the side, tossed off, or having your foot crushed by a heavily laden hoof. We waited 15 minutes, while donkeys build up on our side as well. Soon, the trail begins to feel like a corral. Finally, a break just long enough for the bridge to clear comes up. We begin running across while another herder is approaching entrance to the bridge in front of us. Rather than wait for us (and risk the donkeys on the opposite side starting) he begins pushing his large horses while we are still crossing. A meele ensues, a horse spooks, we nearly suffer the injuries described above, and the Israeli brothers nearly toss the herder off the bridge. But, everybody emerges on the other side in one piece, and we resume the trek.

I'll summarize it like this: Up, up and up. It varies between steep zigzagging staircases, and slightly less steep ones. You have never seen a staircase that goes on like this. It really seems endless. Seriously. It starts to get ludicrous after a while, like you are in front of a tape loop background. Much of the staircase meanders up green terraced hillsides with frequent houses and teashops, quite pretty. But, what is so incredible, is how they just keep on coming, one field on top of another. Early in the day, it begins raining. Remember I said two posts ago that I would come back to that? It isn't supposed to rain right now, as it is the dry season, but, I guess someone forgot to turn on the faucet when it is supposed to rain during the winter, and they're trying to make up for it now. So, we trudge up wet steps, sweating in our rain gear.

Another thing I want to note: there was smoke rising from the farms on the hillside everywhere. The air frequently stunk of smoke. The farmers were burning some kind of dried vegetation, perhaps from the previous growing season. I guess this is a common technique for fertilizing your soil, but there must be a better way! This is what makes the air around Annapurna murky, obscuring some of the most spectacular views in the world!

As we got above the farms, we began walking through some spectacular Rhododendron forests. I had no idea that they could grow into full sized trees, but they can! Exploding in pink flowers like fireworks, it being spring and all, they perked up our spirits in spite of the fog and rain. When the trail started to get really steep, we knew we were near the goal. We get into Ghorepani, wet and exhausted, but satisfied. It is chilly up there at 2800m, and it's pouring rain, so it was a thrill to find that the hotel we stay in had a clay oven in the middle of the room where they built a fire (I felt guilty, since burning wood contributes to deforestation, but we were freezing!) which allowed us to dry our clothes and warm our sodden selves.

I had a nice time chatting with a 14 year old boy, Santosh, who worked at the inn. He was very nice and friendly, and seemed very clever. We traded pointers on Nepali and English, and he taught me a bunch of words including "Poor" and "Rich". I wish he could get an education and get out of the back country, but I'm not ready to adopt a kid at the moment. Plus, I don't know if that's what he wants.

The next day, we were supposed to go to Poon Hill, which is supposed to have the best view of the Annapurna peaks and Dhaulagiri in the whole area, a sight not to be missed. We went to sleep, wondering if the rain would stop in the night. If not, there would be no view in the morning.

What will befall our erstwhile heroes? You'll have to tune in next time to find out! I'm impressed if you read my rambling babble for this long, and I will give you a break for now, so until a little later, namaste!

Best,
Dan

---

Photos

Fancy Donkeys
These pack animals were dressed much better than I was!

Crossing the Kali Gandaki
I imagine a primitive bridge would consist of a flat surface suspended over a waterway.

The road less traveled
More ridiculous Himalayan scenery.

Old Namaste
My inn in Lete.

River Valley
It is a handsome valley

More River Valley
The walls are incredibly steep, yet plants are growing. We're not in Mustang anymore.

Bolsheviks
My first Maoist slogan

Poultry
A porter carrying about 25 chickens in a cage! This is a sight to behold.

The Bridge
Why did the donkey cross the bridge? This was the bridge that nearly did us in.

The Scrum
Whose donkeys are whose? It's amazing to me that they didn't get mixed up. Basically, the ones with bags are going right, and the others, left.

Rhododendron
This is the view from our hotel at the top of Ghorepani hill. The rhododendron trees are simply unbelieveable.

Comments

[dariel]

rhododentron
Those trees are so cool! I always thought the plant was so-so, but now I'm a big fan. I hope your knee feels better!

[Tom Yacavone]

Great Pictures... I have a Calypso question for you ...LOL We miss you!