Nepal and I didn’t get off to a good start. The Royal Nepal Airlines flight to Kathmandu was first delayed and then cancelled due to something that fell in the somewhat narrower universe of ‘a technical problem’. The plane was grounded in KL and after two hours of deliberation, we were flown up on an SQ flight to meet the injured bird. It was here where I got to enjoy a plastic cup of real orange juice, a packet of roasted peanuts and refreshing views of the immaculate icons of Singapore. Whoever said that they were over the hill should fly SQ more often.
My last SQ experience was eons ago. My mates and I were headed for Kanchanaburi for a government-sponsored holiday filled with 180kg bridge parts and explosives that sent rocks flying into the sky…and plummeting down around us. Our Course Commander kind of forgot the overhead cover and for those lucky few (me included) up on the sand bund all ready to expend our live rounds at our imaginary enemies, we were caught in a hailstorm of fist-sized rocks. Things turned out quite alright for most of us(me included) who got hit. We managed to siam the roadmarch that followed. The drama of how we threw our M16s aside and cupped the back of our necks as the rocks rained down still makes great conversation whenever we meet up for our Sunday breakfast in Chinatown. (Sorry, scene shift back to the plane)
The unhappy Singapore Girls on that flight, we joked were the unfortunate ones that ‘kena sign extra’. These ladies must have done something horrendous like getting out of the house in their body-hugging kebaya without their make-up or mingling with the plebeians on SBS No. 36 (which they shouldn’t even be on). So this flight albeit short did put me up close and personal with the real thing, which is indeed far more inspiring than their more matured counterparts on Tiger, Jetstar, Airasia and especially, the grannies on Qantas.
When we reached KLIA, one airport uncle revealed that the ‘spare parts’ for the plane couldn’t be found. ‘So just wait while we try to improvise…there is nothing duct tape and superglue won’t mend eh? Just take your flimsy meal coupons to Rimba Café and go eat some lunch, it’s on the house.’
‘Chose only mee or rice and only one side dish please’, said the manager who cheerfully added that we could also have ‘only one cup of soft drink from the dispenser’. What a way to torture Singaporeans!
Some 6 ravenous hours later in the departure lounge, the pilots appeared, boarded the plane, got everyone onboard, checked the controls, realised that the plane was still faulty somewhere, made the wise decision not to take-off and ordered everyone off the plane. What did the repair crew tell these guys? ‘Just carry on lah brother, Nepal not so far away, the rubber bands should hold…after all, its Malaysian rubber you know?’
With me were a couple of Singaporean aunties who did their fair share of sighing, grumbling and complaining, shooting off calls to their travel agent, harassing Rani (the by-now-exhausted RNA liason officer) and comparing insurance claims. ‘Eh, mine one can claim only after 6 hours of delay leh. Only one hour more then got 70 dolla!’ Also with us was The Singaporean Cowboy, (just imagine Ah Peh + silver ponytail + full leather community centre line dancing gear) on a business trip. He grew up in Texas so you can’t really blame him. Besides us were 40 other rather subdued Nepali workers waiting to go home. They had been there since 6am. In its international fleet, RNA has only 2 planes (both rented from China) which makes it hard to come up with a plan B or a plane B either way.
After a whole day of milling and complaining (‘Eh dun koe after the plane fix alreadi safe to fly or not, sakarli these Malaysians anyhow gasak gasak…tsk tsk!’, says genuinely worried Auntie A with the new perm) those on the SQ flight were sent to a decent hotel near KLIA where we enjoyed a huge buffet dinner meant for 50 persons. There were only 8 of us however since the rest of the Nepali couldn’t re-enter the country and had to put up in the airport hotel, which they graciously did without the slightest complaint. The Singaporeans on the other hand refused to share rooms so most of us got a double each.
The KLIA ground crew were unloading some cargo from the plane into a modular container before we took off the next morning. Actually, they were dunking the cargo. We watched in horror as boxes containing all sorts of fragile electronic devices were tossed and slammed into the containers. I captured the transgression on video, you-tubed it and sent KLIA the link. If this happens at all airports, we better thank the inventor of Styrofoam.
The ageing 757 (much smaller than a 747) didn’t fly very high so we could see parts of Bangladesh and India along the way. Bangladesh seems overrun by braids of huge rivers, little wonder they have such a serious floods. What I didn’t know then was that my pineapple juice and chicken noodle combo meal would give me the runnies later that afternoon. Next time I’ll sue. Next time, I’ll take Thai Airways as what most tourists do.
As we flew into Nepal, the pilot sounded off the famous peaks that emerged to our right. Easily detectable was a certain pride in his voice as he rattled off names like Kangchendzonga! and heights like 8598m!! but it was hard to identify the snow peaks since there were so many of them running across the endless Himalayan horizon. With the white giants as the backdrop, the plane sliced low across the green ridges and farmland of the Kathmandu Valley before banking hard to the left and making the steep descent into the cubic clutter of Kathmandu. Flying into Kathmandu from the east, the right side of the plane gets you the mountain views - a pretty good intro to the country!
Someone pinched my handphone somewhere between Changi and Kathmandu…I wonder where? Next time it stays with me on the plane. Next time I’ll take Thai Airways. But for someone who doesn’t have a watch or an alarm clock, its quite frustrating especially when you have an early bus to catch. One of the aunties lent me hers to make a call to Karen so that she can help me cancel my line. I knew I could rely on my fellow countrywomen in desperate moments like this. Surprisingly, my external hard-disk which was in the same small plastic box was still there. What I didn’t know then was that the backup function had malfunctioned.
Luxurious Thamel is Kathmandu’s tourist heart that pumps rupees to dozens of trekking agencies, guesthouses, classy restaurants, souvenir stalls, outdoor equipment shops and smooth talking touts who all hail from the same guru and thus all begin with ‘Hello my friend, come my shop, just looking no problem!’ Once you are in Hotel Kathmanfornia and you can almost never leave. ‘What price you give me?’ Quote anything more than half the listed price and you are suckered. Packed with such a wide variety of whatever they are selling, there is always another item waiting to be introduced. With the competition this stiff (tourist numbers fell this year), who can blame them?
Kathmandu Guest House is farang-filled, snobby and expensive (single room US$15) because of its fame as being the first in town in the 60s. Just 70m down the lane is Sherpa Guesthouse where the boys manning the reception show more hospitality and a spacious single costs US$3.50. (S$1 = 43 Rupees). The corridors here could use some light though.
The next few hours were a hectic example of how productive I can be when the money belt is under threat. My objectives for Nepal is quite simple: 1) to spend more time in the mountains than in the towns and 2) to DIY or Do It Myself, no guide, no porter, no extra costs. 1) is quite easily achieved. 2) is thwarted by a new ruling called the TRC or Trekking Registration Certificate which can only be issued by registered trekking companies when you hire one of their guides and/or porters. According to the Thorn Tree (Lonely Planet’s travel Q&A portal), the TRC had been effected since the 1st of October 2006 so I was 24 days late. Well perhaps, like in most third world countries, there is some way around it.
Unsurprisingly all the trekking companies I visited verified that the TRC was in place and offered the services of guides, porters and guide-porters. A guide will cost about US$15 to 20 a day and will carry none of your load. A porter US$10 to 12 and will carry your stuff and his. He’s not a guide not because of radar problems but of his very limited English. A porter-guide carries all the gear, shows the way and speaks reasonable English. He’s willing to do the work of two men for an additional US$2 or 3. The Annapurna Circuit would take a minimum of 14 days and a lot of US dollars to complete so that’s bad news. It was possible to share the cost with another trekker or join other trekking groups but it was still quite a few days to the earliest group departure dates.
When I was booking my air ticket (RNA again, they’re cheap and so am I) back home, my agent finally revealed that the TRC hasn’t been implemented but the dateline was close. At the Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP) office, where I paid for the 2000 rupee permit, the friendly couple verified that the TRC would be enforced on the 27th or the day after tomorrow. So it didn’t take much brainwork to realise that to trek solo, I had to get started tomorrow. That really got the budget-motivated adrenalin going!
Somehow in the course of the next few remaining hours, I managed to have lunch, visit the loo three or four times to flush out the bad RNA airline meal, book my 6am bus to the trek-head (Besisarhar), check my emails, stock up some trail food, confirm my flight back home, arrange for a taxi to get me to the bus depot early the next morning, find a decent map of the Annapurnas, have a good beef-mushroom stew dinner, borrow an alarm clock and hit the bed early.
Sleep was sporadic mainly due to the thrill and slew of mental questions about the longest walk of my life to date and partly to the simple fear that the cheap alarm clock would fail to ring. I would then miss my 6-hour bus-ride and miss the pre-TRC deadline. So it by some luck (which I felt was finally turning in my favour) that I awoke at 4.30am and stayed awake long enough to realise that the alarm was indeed faulty.
Nepal generally feels a bit like India with the ‘intensity dial’ turned down a few notches and the ‘hospitality’ one up by a lot more. People are actually helpful and pleasant. At least, they also use the word ‘sorry’. But in many ways, Nepal is like India, like when the agent tells you ‘the bus leaves at 6am’, he actually means ‘the bus may leave at 7am if its full’. Not his fault at all, just a minor language discrepancy. I definitely didn’t miss my bus. The Besisarhar booth wasn’t even opened when I arrived before the daylight did. There was a bus number scribbled on the ticket but I didn’t think it would match and my conservative estimate would place about 200 buses packed into the huge dusty depot! It was obvious by now that the bus agent had earned a huge commission and there were quite a few buses headed for Besisarhar. It’s been less than 24 hours since I touched down and I am quite eager to get to where the air is fresher.
It was at the lunch stop on this ride that I had the first of many dhal bhats (dhal=lentil soup & bhat=rice) which came with two other curry vegetable dishes and pickles. The porters and guide eat this (with their hands) everyday. It’s not as bad as it sounds as each joint has their unique dhal bhat recipe, the veges and beans vary but most importantly this free flowing meal provide the energy for the heavy load these blokes carry on a thumpline that goes around the forehead.
A thumpline is a strong circular strap of woven rope fibres. One end goes over the porter’s forehead and the other around the base of the load which is then balanced on the porter’s back as he leans slightly forward and walks. Usually, his hands hold the thumpline around his ears for additional support. The neck muscles of the porters is phenomenal and has to be developed from a young age since it has to take most of the weight. This method combined with the small, precise, fluid and almost dainty steps they take, I was told was the most efficient method amongst all the hill people of the world. They are paid by weight so most porters carry as much as they can.
In Nepal more is carried on the backs of men and women than all forms of mechanised transport combined! From metal bridge parts to decapitated buffalo heads, these men(usually) form the supply chain of the Annapurna Circuit. One guy I was told (rural legend perhaps) lugged up a washing machine for a guesthouse! Sometimes a woven basket or a rectangular cage is attached to the thumpline to increase the carrying capacity. I passed a porter carrying a tourist who was bitten by a snake in his basket and the ‘chicken bus’ or live chickens packed in a huge cage is quite a funny sight. Use your imagination for the ‘ma ma shop’ porter. Many porters wear slippers instead of shoes and still easily overtake the tourists wearing Gore-tex boots. Unladen and especially on the downslope, they seem to let gravity take over and skip-hop down the trail. It’s hard to communicate because as cheerful as they are, most speak no English. Just make way for these mountain truckers, big smile, hearty ‘Namaste!’ and they’re off.
Of the many inspiring people along the way (more than 300km in total), a German couple came up tops simply because the man was 75 and his wife 74. Their secret to superior hiking fitness is to use walking poles. ‘Always use two, one is useless’, says Grandpa ‘You also get to work your upper (body) muskles.’ The other more important secret is probably their spirit and sense of adventure. Throng La at 5416m is too high for his wife so the couple planned to trek only to Manang, the last major settlement before the high pass before back trekking. The other half of the Annapurna Circuit after Throng La, they had done in similar fashion on a previous trip. So they go really slowly and even with a porter, do not walk more than 4 or 5 hours a day. ‘Vi also get to enjhoy the scenery zhre and bac’ chirps Mrs Olympia 74.
I had the good fortune to share a tea break with them after a strenuous uphill section so Mr 75, the more chatty of the two told me about his exploits on the Lamayura-Zanskar trek in Leh (N India), a monster trek that roller-coasters over 9 passes in 10 days! Also coming rapidly were his experiences in Tibet where he prevented the Chinese police from whacking some Tibetans during an outdoor prayer session. ‘Eu have to zdo the vight tzing Eu know.’ Ya Vi orll know, it’s zhe zdoing Vi have some problms with atz times. Mrs Olympia 74 saw the beginnings of my split sole and shook her head ‘Oh zear, zat iz not goot.’ Next thing I knew, she was fumbling through her pack for some red raffia string for me to bind my boot. She even gave me the remaining string as ‘spart partz’. Almost everyone I met who encountered them talked about them when we ended the day’s trek at the guesthouse. ‘Did you see the old German couple? Blah blah blah…so nice…gave me a hug…blah blah blah…heard he went trekking with his grandson…blah blah blah’. Since they walked so slowly and took so many breaks, quite a few trekkers had the pleasant and motivating experience of seeing the pair of unageing spirits in action.
The only two trekkers who probably didn’t like the German Grans were an inconsiderate Israeli couple who got a scolding from Mr 75 when he saw them lighting a gas stove in their room. Not exactly the smartest thing to do in a wooden guesthouse. Their 20 year-old porter-guide spoke English fluently and had plenty to say about his Israeli employers. Firstly, their religion dictates that they have to cook their own food Monday through Saturday. This is a problem as all guesthouses make the bulk of the profit from the meals and not the room. So it is hardly surprising when guesthouses refuse to take them in. Also most porters and guides eat and sleep for free since the expenditure of their guests alone would more than cover for the simple dhal bhat and their bed in the dorm. The Israelis told him that they would cook his meals to off-load his costs but the promised meal turned out to be a small bowl of noodles which was too sweet and hardly enough to sustain his 30kg pack filled mostly with their food.
Initially, he was told that the pack would weigh no more than 15kg and that his load would lighten as the meals went by. It didn’t because these sneaky religious zealots would buy their supplies along the way and put it in his pack during the night. So the promised 15kg became 30kg and hovered around there for what was to be an 18-day trek. I wonder if they made it as their porter-guide was getting increasingly fed-up with the unfair treatment. Like many Israelis we met in India, they were not trained for smiles and friendly interaction. Someone please tell me where do nice Israelis travel to? Fortunately for their porter-guide, they don’t trek on Sundays. No work allowed. Unfortunately for the guesthouse economy, they cook their Sunday meals on Saturdays.
‘So why are you still carrying their stuff? For 10 dollars, I don’t think it is worth it.’, I asked.
‘Well, at first I thought they were ok and I wanted to help them. I never took Israelis before so I thought I’ll try. But never again I tell myself. One day I got so fed up I said I don’t want to carry no more and I am going back to Pokhara. He tried to carry his pack but it was too heavy for him. He will not be able to finish the trek. In the end he agree to take some things out and they treat me a little bit better. But next time no way’ replied the part-time porter-guide who was doing his post-graduate studies in Geography and Agriculture Science at Pokhara University.
When he lit up his cigarette and offered one to me. I told him I didn’t smoke and fed him the rough figures on how much money I had saved off the packs to channel into my travels.
‘For you (travelling) is a dream come true but for me, it is an impossibility. Do you know how much I have to pay to fly out of Nepal? Thousands and thousands of rupees! I will never have that amount no matter how much I save. That’s why I and most Nepali don’t save because we know it is impossible for us…But we won’t starve because we have some land.’
His uncle who is a dentist earns about 30,000 rupees(about S$700) a month.
A bus driver I met along the way earned 6,000 rupees. But he is a happy man. His wife which he hasn’t seen for 6 years left Nepal for India in search of work which she found as a domestic helper for a rich and more importantly kind Sikh doctor who took her to London when he emigrated there with his family. She got the lucky break and managed to get two of her children over. One day, with the pounds his wife is sending home, he hopes to go over with this two other children. Meanwhile it’s just the trunk call every Friday. This guy was visiting some relatives in Manang - only 4 days of walking from the trek head at Besisahar if you are fast. For the normal tourists, we take 6 days. And of course he has to go back to work.
Then there are the abnormal tourists like an American couple who having just finished the Everest Base Camp trek a week ago is now doing the 203km Annapurna Circuit Trek in 9 days! Good for them since all they had was a small pack each. It was brutal for their porter who had their full duffel bag to deal with. I hope they will give him a big fat tip to make up for the 5 extra days a normal ‘rush job’ would take! I wonder if the porter knew what he was in for.
“ ‘I heard it is possible to do the Annapurna Circuit in 14 days’, one tourist asked. ‘It is possible to do it in 40 days’ came the reply. ” Take your time and you will see a little more than your feet on the track. So says the trekking guru…
One Nepali group you will definitely encounter are the Maoists. Whether they march under banner of terrorism or liberation, here, they are just your friendly extortionists. For 1200 rupees(S$28), you are issued a ‘Maoist Ticket’ which gets you past the other 4 or 5 check-posts along the way. I was in the good company of 5 Koreans who having just met one another in Nepal decided that the best way to compound their newfound friendship was go on a 16 day 203km walk. The elder of the pack was a 34 year old lady who has been on the go for about 1.5 years. Her pack was probably heavier than mine and the other Koreans call her ‘boss’. Boss and I were left to bargain with the Maoists (China denies any connection) which we, after 40 minutes of persuasive jostling, managed to down the figure by half. We capitalised on the ‘fact’ that we were all ‘poor students’, as indicated by my Kao San Rd student ID. ‘See we have no guide, no porter, no lunch, no money…’ reinforced Boss. ‘and my boot is broken…’ I showed them my raffia-bound boot. The Maoists finally stood their ground when we tried for 500. They also got their repair guy to stitch my boot together. So I wouldn’t describe my experience with them as bad.
The Maoists are definitely not the good guys. A Dutch couple I met a few days later told me that they had to intervene and stop them from whacking two trekkers who refused to pay the toll. It wasn’t just the 4 or 5 guys at the desk but the other 10 or 11 young men loitering in the area the ‘uncooperative’ had to deal with. Some Russians were sent back down the track to ‘reconsider’. One group was allowed to pass but their tents were raided that night. Americans in particular tend to be overcharged – up to US$100! Trekkers who get worked up and over-react over the Maoists shouldn’t even be on the trek. Guidebooks, guides and locals will give you enough forewarning so if you face a moral dilemma of being coerced to support the wrong cause, don’t do the trek. Out of curiosity, I had a look at their log-book - the day’s takings were more than US$250 and it is considered the low season.
What’s really amusing is that at one spot (near Tatopani), the Maoist and Police check-posts are just 5 minutes apart! Aren’t these two factions supposed to be killing each other? Two other kinds of check-posts you will find along the way are the ACAP (park permit) and the TRC (new law stating that you cannot walk unguided) ones. According to Purna, one local guide I spoke to, the ACAP are the good guys who make the miraculous connection between the 2000 rupee permits and rural development. Flout the conservation rules and these guys have the power to ban you from entering Nepal for 9 years! The TRC that was actually implemented 12 years ago fizzled out and is now making its second debut. For independent walkers itching to go, be patient, I think disorganisation will soon put things right for you.
Perhaps the fittest of all the trekkers were a furry-armed Norwegian couple who despite being overloaded by their humongous packs camped out for all but two days on the entire circuit including one extremely cold day at Highcamp (4925m) before crossing Throng La the next morning. ‘But we are from Norway!’ was the exasperated universal reply to all questions of concern with regards to why haven’t they frozen to death yet. Minus 10 degrees morning temperatures here froze the water in the hydration tubes of some trekkers.
Luke and Lucy from New Zealand told me about their local hero Mark Inglis. In super short, this guy in November 1982, lost both legs below the knees to frostbite while waiting out a 14-day freak storm in an ice cave on Mt Cook. He just went on to climb Everest in May 2006 being the first double amputee to do so. For the long story, visit: http://www.markinglis.co.nz/. For some moral disturbance, read: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/5016536.stm
More memorable among my encounters were a pleasant Dutch couple who taught me how to play the Australian card game ‘Shit Head’ at Highcamp. It’s a good game since 90% of it is based on luck. I remember an Australian couple we met at Tiger Leaping Gorge trying to teach us the same game. They called it ‘Oh Shit’ though.
Two Austrian doctors asked me if I preferred Traditional Chinese Medicine to Western ones. ‘No preference, as long as it works.’ Somehow they found this amusing and burst out laughing.
Gorge (no spelling error), an Australian doctor helped me patch my toe when I busted it on the second last day of the trek. True to his profession, he had a well-equipped first aid kit complete with individually sealed antiseptic cotton buds, fantastic waterproof plasters and skin tape that actually lasts the whole day. I on the other hand didn’t have a single plaster or pill on me. He told me that his doctor girlfriend back home is going to be posted to the ‘outback’ for a few years where life is tougher and doctors are most needed.
There was also a retired French lady who used to work in a pharmaceutical company. She is on a personal mission to smuggle unwanted medical equipment and supplies from France into rural Nepal. The covert nature of her operations is necessary simply because the goons at the airport Customs are known to confiscate the items if you do not pay the ‘tax’. Back home, she makes some pocket money by selling her watercolour paintings.
Ann from Sabah has all the friendly qualities unique to an east Malaysian. She is on a travel break after which she hopes to work in a hotel in Singapore. Her vegetarian boyfriend from KL raves and raves about having circumnavigated Kailash and can now strike off the freezing showers at Muktinath from his holy tick-list. If only he could strike off his ‘dumb blonde’ labels too.
Anthony is the heavily tattooed English heavy machinery operator who decided to add his Nepalese wife’s name to his forearm when he married her 5 years ago. He now ‘lives a quality life’ by helping his wife’s family to run their guesthouse near Chitwan National Park. He was quite surprised at their three-day traditional wedding when he got money (red packet equivalent) from his guests in return for his autograph. ‘Marrying a Nepali has its perks, I go into a shop, find something I fancy, go out, she goes in and I get what I want at a fraction of the tourist price!’ ‘Nepal is also probably the only country in the world where a communist party are voted into government!’ I ask him if he has a problem with the Maoists. ‘My wife’s family are Maoists. As long as I pay tax only once a year to one party, I’m happy with that!’
The vast majority of the trekkers do the Annapurna Circuit anticlockwise. One shopkeeper told me about a lone Singaporean trekker who went against the flow in 2005. That’s why he remembers Singapore.
On the way into the Annapurna Sanctuary, I finally met some Singaporeans to share a good bout of Singnese since this group of 8 spoke mainly mandarin. With a service support contingent 18 strong, they could literally be carried all the way if they wanted to. It was a fine contrast between those who chose to support the local economy and the bad sheep that didn’t. Their 10-day full-board self-sufficient camping-trek somehow amounted to 1 guide, 2 sherpas (assistant guide, one has been up Everest twice!), 1 cook and 14 porters! For those new to organised treks, all you need to do is walk and eat. No strenuous tasks like pitching tents, carrying backpacks, boiling water, peeling potatoes, navigating, unfolding deck chairs, deciding what’s for dinner etc. A 16-day organised trek around the Annapurnas would cost about US$650 for a group of 8. Out of every dollar, only 70% at the most go to the ground crew. The rest goes to the trekking agency as commission. These Singaporeans would give their used T-shirts to the porters at the end of each day who would wash the sweaty gifts and happily wear them the next day! It was nice to have a long chat over such contrasting lunches. They had freshly made cinnamon rolls, luncheon meat, 3 or 4 different types of vegetables and pineapple juice. I had 8 biscuits and water. One nice lady gave me a chocolate bar when we parted.
If you want to go on a camping trip, go elsewhere. Most companies pitch their tents on the fringes of villages or even in somebody’s backyard. Don’t expect extended periods of quiet time or solitude unless you go in the off-season (April to May – poorer visibility, more rain but flowers in bloom and spectacular waterfalls) or go alone. Guesthouse developments are mushrooming, electric and telephone cables are creeping in from both ends Dirt roads on the Jomosom side now bring motorcycles all the way to Muktinath. Good for the locals, schools and hospitals would now become more accessible but who wants to trek alongside a belching lorry convoy. It is still a great trek but if you can, go within the next five years.
The March snowmelt heralds the avalanche season. According to a local guide, ‘hundreds of bodies’ are exposed with the snowmelt every year on the high passes in Nepal. These unfortunate souls extinguished in the avalanches were further buried by the subsequent snowfall. Signs warn you of avalanche zones and it might save your life if you looked up before you walked (briskly) on. You may see some dramatic icefalls around Annapurna Base Camp if you wait long enough for the sun to gather strength.
At Dharapani, the whole village, kids to grannies was mobilised to carry rocks for the local hydro-electric project across the river. Community effort for the common cause! Nice to see three or possibly four generations involved in the same activity. Solar heaters vary widely in effectiveness. The general rule: Bathe when the sun shines. An Austrian-German initiative gave the Nepali huge hemispherical cauldrons lined with mirrors that focused the sun’s rays at a point in the middle. The end result is a fuel-less stove larger than a majong table. The rest is just a matter of striking while the weather is hot.
Soon after Bagarchhap and completely alone, I found myself scrambling over rocky scree that covered of the path till it disappeared beneath a giant pile of loose rocks. I climbed a few metres higher before backtracking the couple of hundred metres to the fork in the road. The map showed that both ways were passable but a recent rockslide had blocked off the lower option. Luke and Lucy decided to tackle the massive rock-fall which added 8 tiring hours to their day. When you are alone and lost, always go backwards which is the logical thing to do but not necessary an easy thing to do because you always feel that it’s a pity to ‘waste’ all that distance already covered. If you are in this area, forget the low path and take the tougher uphill one to Timang where the views are lovely.
I feel the area around Upper Pisang has the most interesting views. Besides the biggies like Annapurna II (7937m), III(7555m) and IV(7525m) which didn’t look that impossible for the average Joe to climb from here, what I really liked was the Swargadwari Danda. Just imagine God’s icecream scoop cleaving its way across 4 kilometres of granite gelato leaving behind what looks to be a smooth concave amphitheatre of blank rock! That icecream scoop was actually a glacier running its course eons ago.
Upper Pisang has a spooky feel since most of the flat-roofed mud-brick dwellings are emptied of its inhabitants. Most of these part-time nomads are away with the flock on the pockets of green pastures hidden among the mountains. At 3300m, the landscape here looks pretty forbidding, brown, gullied, rocky, dry and wind-swept. But one shepard told me that just behind the mountain in front of us in the wind-shadow are more than 200 of his sheep! As the day progresses, the winds in the valley change direction with the position of the sun. There are only two guesthouses right at the top of Upper Pisang which is a hard slog from Lower Pisang especially after a day’s trekking. You just have to work for the views here on the Annapurna Circuit. Once you’re are up here, chill out on the small sun deck over looking this picturesque valley till the winds get to your bones.
That night, two Israeli girls were singing in the room next door. The song that wafted through the gaps in the wooden walls was bearable for the first 5 minutes. I had to protest after realising that these practising Israeli Idols weren’t going to stop anytime soon.
After having experienced the scenic-vertigo of the high paths, I decided to take the harder route via Ghyaru (3670m) which shoots up just over 400 metres over a horizontal gain of 800. I don’t remember how many rest-stops I took over the shadeless zig-zaging track but I do remember that there was always a tiny stall selling overpriced Snickers and Coke at the strategic spots where you were teetering on the edge of your physical and mental limits.
Perhaps it was the dry heat, altitude mountain sickness (AMS) or the tomato noodle soup lunch I had at Nawal but I couldn’t eat or sleep that night till I purged the day’s takings into the pail by my bed. Fortunately this guesthouse was more stone than wood and thus better retained the warmth in the bedrooms. After a few days, you learn to avoid the wooden guesthouses and choose rooms that face the evening sun and away from the smoky kitchen. An extra blanket(always free) over my sleeping bag usually does the trick at night. Most trekkers wisely stay an extra day in Manang (3750m) to acclimatise. If you want to avoid the crowds, hunting for inexpensive accommodation, loud evening movies screenings, touting, and the string of German bakeries, stay in Bhraka (30 minutes before Manang) in any one of the two cosy guesthouses. Try the Yak Dhal Bhat.
As you approach Throng La, Altitude Mountain Sickness (AMS) becomes the main talking point. There are talks in Manang by the local doctors (usually western volunteers) telling some horror stories about the foolhardy who tried to fight the AMS by pressing on with the climb to 5416m. One lady went delirious, took off her jacket, plonked her butt down on the snow and exclaimed 'Isn't this the most beautiful beach sunset you have ever seen!!' The rescue team had to carry her down the mountain. The most important rule is that when you experience increasingly severe AMS symptoms (giddiness, headache, vomiting, cramps, breathlessness, delirium) you have to make a descent immediately. Going up kills.
Another hypothetical story involves picking you up at the beach and dropping you off the top of Everest (8850m) from a helicopter. Without an oxygen supply, you have approximately 2 minutes to enjoy the scenery before blanking out and dying after 8 minutes. So for the 'If-you-had-one-place-in-the -world-you'd-like-to-be-now' wish, don't make it the Everest Peak unless you have two.
Counter-measures against AMS would include acclimatisation, deep breathing, hydration and walking really slowly. To complicate matters, different bodies react differently to AMS and it can kick in as low as 1000m above sea level. Once you get the symptoms stay at that altitude or lower for a few days till your body adapts to the oxygen level. The Climb High Sleep Low theory is to get to a higher point(up a nearby hill) during the day and come back down to sleep.
This was what the crowd did at Manang usually choosing between a one hour hike to a gorgeous glacial viewpoint on one side of the valley or to receive a 100 rupees(S$2.30) ‘Throng La Safety-blessing’ from a monk who lives in a monastery up the other. Quite a few do choose the latter since 5416m would probably be the highest place most of us here have ever been. From Manang, it is still at least two days to Throng La and the thin air is also heavy with anticipation. Restaurants keep the mood up with extensive menus featuring steaks, soup, stroganoff, burgers and even the omnipresent dhal bhat, all made with Yak meat. Yak tastes rich and beefy and you sometimes see men carrying the decapitated head on their backs strapped with a couple of hoofs. Yak soup, in these parts is made by boiling the entire head in a cauldron! The Blue Sheep or Bharal also shared the same fate till it became protected. Seen a herd or two in Leh and they were quite grey. Have a go at the refreshing Seabuckthorn juice while you are here. This seasonal tiny yellowish mountain berry tastes like sourish mandarin orange rather unlike filtered tap-water.
The S$30 per hour internet and IDD call services (USD$6 per minute to Europe) at Manang shows how far development has come on the Annapurna Circuit. I employed the services of the local cobbler to fix my other shoe which ‘crocodiled’ over the past few days. This green pair has served me well me since May 1999 when I bought them in the Czech Republic and the repair-work involved puncturing the Gore-Tex waterproofing with needles and nails. Well, it would benice to have some toes left after Throng La. Past Manang, even the indestructable porters submit to shoes.
(See http://www.alanarnette.com/images/everest/coverage/frostbite.jpg) I bought a 160 rupee Nepali Beanie (complete with ear-flaps) at Manang which turned out to be a really good idea.
At Ledar (4200m), I watch the porters of a large French group smoke and gamble at the guesthouse while their guests have lunch. The cards are slapped down with gusto and a couple of rupees exchanged after a few rounds. It had been an easy day for them with only a little more than two hours of walking from Manang. These porters seem well equipped with company-sponsored jumpsuits, beanies and hiking boots which kept their mouths shut. According to ‘The Snow Leopard’ in the past, Nepali porters would sell all their equipment once the expedition is over, banking on the welfare provided by their next employer to provide the necessary equipment for the next trip. Having the luxury of porters, some trekkers ‘bring’ a dazzling array of toiletries and footwear (slippers, sandals, sneakers, hiking boots) to maximise their comfort levels. On hindsight, I could have halved my bar of soap for all my showers.
Fresh crunchy snow and sluggish bushy yaks made the steep barren climb from Ledar to High Camp (4925m) more enjoyable. The fine ice dampens the foot stomps and provides a surprisingly decent grip of which you are thankful for at the hairier sections where a slip may send you hurtling down the valley. I was probably the first to leave the guesthouse so I avoided most of the trodden ice which became slippery once the sun melts the outer surface. I was eager to reach High Camp only 5 kilometres away. Thorung Phedi (4450m) is the more popular stopover because it is nearer and lower (therefore warmer) but it also means that you have to get going earlier (4am at sub-zero temperatures) the next day to beat the wind and clouds over Throng La.
The steep 500m (vertical) scramble up the scree slope that links High Camp to Thorung Phedi must have taken 1.5 hours since the breathlessness was setting in and I was taking rest stops after every 10 minutes. The turtle-pace walking and deep breathing helped me to stay conscious and gave me plenty of time to admire the surrounding ranges. All these conditions combined gave the ultimate illusion of being able to see the huts at High Camp but somehow taking forever to reach it. Besides the slow pace, the other thing that kept me going was the Nepali trail food – an energising concoction of raisins, dried coconut, dates and cashew nuts. I also had a couple of Snickers which I was saving for the Big One tomorrow. There were also two German men gaining on me who were probably in their late 40s and laden with 17kg packs. That little competition also kept me ahead. I didn’t have a watch but I must have taken about 4 hours to cover the 5 kilometers and 725m vertical ascent from Ledar to High Camp.
High Camp could use a little more insulation and heating which I suspect is purposely scant so we would order more tea and soup. These you might expect would be priced at the highest possible since that sack of aloo(potatoes) would have to wander many hours just to get up here. But tourist economics has pushed the Nepali to build two more teahouses, one at the halfway mark between High Camp and Throng La and the other? Why, where else but on the 5416m Pass itself. Sometimes, prices stay the same but the cups and bowls shrink.
Despite the frigid cold and thin air which is supposed to keep you up at night, I managed to oversleep, waking to the sound of excited voices at 6.30am. The two comforters over my sleeping bag and the beanie worked wonders. I packed up quickly, wore all three pairs of socks (two pairs on my feet and one as gloves), had some breakfast, paid for half a litre of hot water and joined the day’s stream of chattering Throng La conquerors. Still in the shadow of the main rise, temperatures were cold enough to sting exposed hands when I removed my ‘gloves’ to get a shot. In 10 seconds, my fingers were red and numb. It took a great deal of breath to get them warm again. Well, it’s a good place to test if you have gotten the right camera. Eventually, the sun broke the horizon and sent sparkles running all over the snow-covered landscape. Crossing the ravine and up onto the main saddle, we met a Nepali with his horse, ready to ferry anyone the rest of the way. At this point I figured a Snicker bar would give me some boost but I probably spent more energy munching the frozen chocolate and melting it in my mouth. The hot water in my bottle did not freeze unlike those in the bottles of those who made the journey at 4am in the morning.
My MSR (Mountain Safety Research) water-filter saved me hundreds of rupees and Nepal tens of plastic bottles. With it also came protection from gardia and economy of space and weight. I never had to carry more than one litre of water with me through the entire trek since there was always a tap, stream or river nearby. At major villages, you could also buy ozone-treated water for about 30 rupees a litre.
After a jubilant half hour with the views from Throng La came the knee-pounding 1600m (vertical) decent down the giant scree slope covered in patches of slippery snow. Without trekking poles for stability, the untrained (me included) soon found themselves swept off their feet and landing hard on their butt. Fortunately, it was my backpack that took most of the fall. On the long sustained downhill breathing becomes much easier and the strain is now transferred to your quadriceps especially when you are taking slow cautious steps. The Nepalese with their knees of steel appear to skip down the mountain recklessly easing the stress and tension in their quads by minimising the duration of the strain.
2 hours later, I finally reached the bottom of the scree slope and marvelled at the lone Singaporean who went in the other direction one year ago.
Muktinath (3660m) is the first village on the other side of Throng La. It has two of the holiest temples in the world. The first is a Vishnu temple backed by a row of 108 spouts gushing with hypothermic snowmelt which devotees take I believe, a very quick walk under. The second houses the ‘eternal flame’ – fed by natural gas, the blue flame burns continuously but so weakly that makes it really hard to spot even in the dim underground section. This temple is holy because it is the only place in the world where all five elements ‘earth-sky-air-water-fire’ converge. Cynics will say that ‘earth-sky-air’ is found everywhere and the ‘water’ has been channelled from the same mountain source to flow under the temple. At least the ‘fire’ portion of the ‘miracle’ is still struggling to keep the act together. These temples are worshipped by Hindus and Buddhists. It’s great to see them pray side by side. Different paths to the same Truth?
Holiness has its privileges. Indian VIPs want badly to come and pray and make fat donations but preferably in helicopters from Jomsom. So by the grace of the Construction God, there appears two helipads near the temple. A dirt road has been etched from Jomsom and now a handful of motorcycles ply the route. It’s just a matter of time before the upgrade is made to cars and the inevitable upsize to buses and lorries. So I didn’t really like Muktinath where most tourists stay at The Bob Marley Guesthouse. Cosier Jharkot is only half an hour away but that’s quite demanding for a Throng La day.
The walk from Jharkot to Kagbeni is exposed and barren devoid of green but compensated by a fantastic snow-capped mountain range which you are always walking towards. I made the mistake of leaving too late and was caught in the ripping afternoon winds and sandstorms.
My favourite town of Kagbeni lies at the confluence of the Jhong Chola and the famous Kali Gandaki River which flows from Tibet and decomposes into the Ganges in India. Maze-like, haphazard and connected by underpasses and tunnels to battle the gale force of the winds, this Tibentan-influenced village is full of friendly people and children. I spent some time sitting in the closure of a 5-day prayer marathon in the attic of the main blood-red temple. The 8 monks that were chanting came from a range of ages that will ensure continuity. On the roof, other monks blew horns that smashed the silence of the village. I self-invited myself into the local tailor’s den which also doubled up as his home. The clay lined place was neat and very clean with a hole in the roof letting in natural light and ladders leading to various smaller rooms and stores giving it a very appealing 3-dimensional multi-level formless feel to it. Kagbeni’s kids must have one of the best hide and seek arenas in the world. Streams are channelled to supply water and power the grind houses where buckwheat is turned into flour. Men were haggling over yaks in the pen, lifting tails now and then to determine ‘sex and quality’. These bushy big horned giants could have easily mauled all the men and breech the stone walls if they went berserk. Motivated by a yak’s head sunning on the garden table in the courtyard of a small restaurant, I went in and had some fabulous yak satay. In the afternoon, the monks were going door to door distributing food to the villages. Hundreds of panicky sheep returned from some faraway pastures in the evening from the day’s graze with their grotty carrot-munching herders.
Kagbeni is also where I had the best apples in my life, more famously known as the Jomsom apples and named after the main town on this side of the Annapurnas. Organic, small, sweet and out-worldly crunchy, these apples are also made into juice, pies, cider, tea and sliced and sun-dried into soft apple chips. The new road would facilitate the export of these apples and reduce wastage. Currently the mules can carry only so much and the excess apples are conveniently dumped into the Gandaki. The heavenly apple juice here is sludgy simply because it is made by blending the whole apple. No added sugar or water. Apple cider doesn’t taste of apple and is closer to a gin-whisky
