It has been a while. It has been 24 days in the wilderness to be exact. And there have been adventures (many of them misadventures). The walk has been one long series of spectacular mountain views and disasters... so read on.
How to write down so many days of stuff without boring everyone? This will be hard, so be patient. And the spelling mistakes are many, after typing this I have not got the energy to proofread it, so be kind.
Easy StartWe left Kathmandu on a "Silver Service" coach. Well, I suppose it was silver service for the goat that stood in the aisle for a while -- he is used to riding in the back of pickups. For the rest of us it was a long, uncomfortable 5 hours. The views were nice (I am going to have to find a good abreviation for the views were nice). Fertile vallyes, raging rivers and Nepalis going about their lives.
We caught the bus all the way to the end of the line, and settled down at a village ot the trailhead. For the first couple of days it was raining, as we had caught the end of the rain season. The start of the trail is at a lowly 400m altitude, and is full of rice paddies and other intensive agriculture. So lots of trying not to get our boots muddy while Danzing -- our super-shurper porter -- waltzed through them in his sandles.
By the end of day 3 we had made it to the village of... I forget the name, after having paid some nasty little Maoists (actually they were quite nice, but they are thieves, taking money off us so that we couldn't spend it in the villages) to enter what is apparently an autonimous republic. They wanted to charge us 100 rupees ($2) per person per day, which would have added up to over $100 for our origional itenary... so we tore our "official itenary" in half and saved ourselves $50.
Several things were becoming apparent by this stage. You have to stay at "lodges", which have very simple (but always clean) room containing rough cots for sleeping. There was always a restaraunt attached, which you were expected to eat at -- this got us into trouble later on, but I will say nothing of that for now. The menu in every place was exactly the same: cooking of every type, from curries to noodles to pizza to... anything you fancy! These menus are jacks of all trades, masters of none -- J and I didn't eat a single decent curry on our whole treck.
The lodges were usually hermetically sealed from the villages. They were attached to the town to extract money from people who travelled the trail, just like the fields sit on the edge of town to provide food. I know that I am a cynic, and we did stay in some great places and meet some lovely locals... but we were glad to leave once we had a our fill of the amazing landscapes and culture in Mustang.
But wait, I am letting my cynicism aquired due to subsequent events colour the story. Reading my diary kept at the time shows that I was loving all of this!
Sunshin'!On the fourth day the sun was shining, and the weather was perfect for the rest of our time. We had started at just the right time -- close enough to monsoon to minimise the number of people on the trail, but with crystal clear air for great vies once we got into the higher parts of the trail.
The valley rose sharply, with the river going down an enormous waterfall. At one point we saw the tip of a snow-capped mountain for the first time and hi-5s were exchanged. By the time reached the top of our first pass on the walk the clouds had moved in and obscured further mountain views.
The next village was the first of real Tibetan Buddhist flavour. One walked under a chorten at the entrance, with mahne walls (walls painted in red-white-black with collections of flat rocks with mantras carved into them) to walk on the left hand side of, prayer wheels to spin with the left hand... and prayer flags fluttering everywhere.
The vegetation had changed from the sub-tropical rainforest and rice paddies to pine forests and wheat/corn crops. The changes were welcome -- we were glad to be leaving rain behind and entering high-mountain country.
Day five - Wednesday 27th October - started with clear skys and some enormous snow capped peaks revealing themselves to me while I did my yopa at 5 am on a wooden platform overlooking the river. We spent most of the day climbing through pine forests to the town of Chaime at 2700m altitude.
There was lots of pot growing alongside the trail -- I exclaimed "crickey Julian, they call this a crop where I come from!". We had been offered some hash by a little boy who stuck his head into our hotel room. After I politely asked him to leave I found him in the dining room. The old couple who ran the place, along with Denzing and some random donkey drivers who had dropped in for some tea were passing his hash around passing judgement on it. No big deal.
A new road is being constructed along large parts of the trail. It has started a few kilometers after the pass on day 4, and it is wide enough for 4-wheel drives. It makes the walk far easier than following the old trail, so we were making fast progress. We made it to the major town of Manang with two more days of walking, one long and one very short.
Accidental MountaineersWe were scheduled to have two full days in Manang. Manang is at an altitude of over 3300m (500m higher than the highest point in Australia), perfect for acclimitisation. The first day was going to be for a walk to a higher point, and the second for rest.
We picked our walk, a stroll up a hill on one side of the Gangapurna Glacier to a stupa at 5070m. We got up early, and picked the hard way to start climbing. We struggled for footholds and breath as we scrambled up a steep slope as the air thinned. on top of the first section of the climb we came to alpine meadows and pine trees. The views of the glacier and Gangapurna/Annapurna peaks towering over the top were something else.
After lunch we began our assult on the final slope where the tree line ended. We huffed and we puffed, aiming for a set of prayer flags, then the next. J eventually had enough and called it quits. I felt OK, and kept on moving up. I had got a second wind, and I could see the top. "Come on, we have to climb a 5400m pass in a few days time", I told myself. After another 30 minutes I was at the top... but wait, it is just a false summit!... another 500 meters... up I went, finally making it to the prayer flags at the top (to prove that they are a crazy folk, the locals had dragged big wooden poles to the top for the purpose of displaying the flags). The views were even more spectacular from up there, and Manang looked so tiny!
By the time I got down J had returned and I found him watching Denzing and the other porters playing cards -- a fateful game that would result in Denzing losing all his money, forcing us to leave without our day's rest -- and waiting to go for lunch. We had discovered a place in Manang that would sell us our fave snack: samosas! We love samosas.
That evening I looked at our map again, and realised that we had picked the wrong "hill". I had in fact climbed a 5800m peak! Hell, that makes me a mountaineer, or at least a litle crazy. The only reason I got to the top is because I didn't realise how high I was!
No Flip Flops This TimeThe next day we walked the Cherri Lettar at 4200m. Without the rest day and with our packs the walk up hill was slow and steady. When the trail was flat or downhill things were fine, but the moment we started up any sort of slope our legs started questioning us. Why? What was wrong with Manang? You never make us do this back home, why now?
We arrived at before lunch, and spent the rest of the day sitting in the howling afternoon wind. I didn't want to do a similar short walk the next day to high camp on the Thorong La pass (5400m), and have to wait in the afternoon wind. The lodges in this part of the world also had captive audiences and charged like a wounded bull... $6 for a simple rice and potato meal and over 50cents for a cup of tea? In Nepal these are highly inflated prices that we simply could not afford. I consulted our map, and decided that we might be able to do the whole walk to high camp then get over the pass to the pilgrimage town of Muktinath on the other side in one day.
People thought we were a bit crazy to try, but Denzing was happy with the idea, so we left at 6 the next morning. The walk to the base of the climb wasn't too bad, and we made it in a couple of hours. The, about 300 meters up the slope J declared that we must be half way. J showed a remarkable ability to underestimate things -- from the length of walks to the durability of the cash in our kitty -- during the trip. We finally got to the top midday, after what until that point had been the hardest climb of my entire life. The last half an hour was murder, with continuous false summits and the altitude slowing us to a crawl. Denzing, who had smoked a cigarette before the days walk, didn't seem in the slightest concerned.
I must now tip my hat to my Mum, who 30-odd years ago climbed this pass in a pair of thongs (Australian for rubber flip-flops, nothing to do with skimpy undies). Well done Mum!
On top we found a bunch of Belgian mountaineers who had climbed the peak Chilaou West the day before. They had a matress out and were smoking hash with their porters. One porter they had nicknamed "Space Sherpa" due to his smoking habits. It didn't hurt his performance -- we later saw him charging straight down a steep, steep slope, completely ignoring the much more sensible option of following the switch-back path.
This Town Isn't Big EnoughAha, Muktinath. Pilgrimage site for bothy Hindus and Buddhists, and where we were due to meet our crew for our hike into the Upper Mustang in two days time. A chance for rest, recreation and maybe some decent food. Oh, how we were dissapointed. Muktinath turned out to have a crappy selection of very overpriced food. Our hotel, the oddly named but quite pleasant Bob Marley Hotel (see Mum, times have changed!), was far too expensive for our limited budget. We ate in a couple of other places, but still we were charged silly prices for very simple food.
Things fell apart when we tried to rectify this. We went to a shop and bought some raw ingredients : rice, lentils, onions, tomatoes and garlic. We were going to cook a couple of simple cheap meals on our camping stove. Little did we know that this was not the Annarpurna way. No sir, you eat in the overpriced establishments or else! When we returned to our hotel the hotel owner jumped at me and started accusing me of being a very bad man for ruining his business. I am not one to make big public scenes, but I felt the need to correct this man-of-bad-manners on a couple of points. I tried to be reasonable, offering to pay more for our room to offset the losses that we were inflicting on him. I even bit my tongue when he insisted that his high prices were because he offered gourmet food. It was very hard.
But we could not win, he wanted us to leave... odd seeing as how is place was not full. We obliged, settled our bill and walked down the hill looking for the next place to stay. Now we realised why he wanted us out, he was about to teach us boat-rockers a lesson. No hotel in town would take us -- he had phoned ahead. We had opposed the village accomadation cartel system, and this is what happens. We ended up leaning on the owner of the place that had sold us the ingredients that had caused such a fuss, and we payed well over the odds for a crappy little room.
Well, at least our paid-for crew was arriving the next day to provide us with food and shelter. Little did we know that this was the first in a series of fuck-ups and mini-disasters that would plague the rest of our time in the mountains.
A Change of PlansThe crew had not arrived by mid afternoon the next day, when we got word that we were in fact starting from Kagbeni, a couple of hours walk downhill from our location. This was news to us, because we had planed a rarely taken route from Muktinath into the Upper Mustang valley. But it was hard to tell what was going on from D's broken English, and we obliged by walking to Kagbeni.
In Kagbeni we found our crew -- guide, cook and two more porters -- in the Hotel Nilgiri View. The place had hot water and carpet in the room. No complaints. The guide was an odd character, that alerted our "dodgy person" radars early on. He asked us for $40 because it had been a lot of effort for him to change our plans for us during a public holiday. Ahem, we didn't want our plans changed... and we had already payed for all of these things. He then insisted that we should pick up the hotel bill for the night, and was trying to determine if he could get us to pay the hotel bill for our crew.
We called Raju (the bloke in Kathmandu through whom we had organised things) the next morning with some polite questions. He was damn upset at the guide's behavior, and insisted that the guide and cook call him before we left that day. J and I sat the shifty bugger down in front of the crew and let him know the score. He was forgiven and his hand shaken, and everyone had seen that we were fair, but didn't like people who played silly buggers.
Denzing had come along as our personal porter, but he was expected to carry an enormous load as well. He was clearly upset at the weight, but after our stuff had been put on the cook's back he obliged and we were off. The Mustang valley is very different from the rest of the Annapurna trail in terms of geography. Big wide ravines with rounded red and yellow mountains composed of sedimentary rocks. The walk was easy -- straight up the kilometer wide dried river bed. This didn't help the porters too much, weighed down with their too heavy loads. And our guide had to have a rest every couple of hundred meters. We were stuck at a snail's pace, with unhappy crew laboring along. We eventually completed the walk and had a late lunch cooked up in the village in Chikksang. It was great to have lots of food after our budget-constrained diet thus far. And things got better when the guide informed us that he was sick and could go no further with us. He was going to pay for another porter and leave. Good riddance, and another pair of legs to help with the carrying was welcome. Cook, porters and trekkers were all smiles.
Thing is, he never payed for another porter and the cook was left in charge. What is wrong with the cook you ask? J and I both agree that he is the most annoying person we have ever met. A moron and a psychopath. At this point we didn't know this, but we pretty soon would...
A Long WalkThe next day was an 8 hour walk according to the cook, so we had a packed lunch. J and I took extra weight on our backs to save the porters, and they did not complain. For an organised tour where we pay $US100 a day, this is unheard of. We saw other groups of two/three people who had twice as many porters, along with teams of donkeys for carrying their stuff. This turned out to be one of the best days of walking that I have ever done. That is to say, the walk was great for me, but the rest of the shit that went down was far from good. The walk started with a very long, hard climb where we gained 1000m to get onto a ridge. I have no idea how the porters got their loads up. On top J and I were in high spirits. The views were like nothing we had ever seen, if one stopped and listened they could not hear a thing other than their hearts, and we really were alone in this isolated place. The cook failed to convey what was in store for us with his broken English. The climb had just been the start. We then proceeded to climb up and down, up and down, up and down, along the top of an enormous ridge. I had found my mountain legs with the rest in Muktinath and the new diet. But Julian, who was carrying more weight than me, along with the porters, feeling the height. He started acting erratically: speeding up, slowing down, muttering that we were lost. We also ran out of water, because we had given let the porters drink from our water bottles. Thing is, we were in a dessert and it took us 7 hours to get to a tiny trickle of a stream. We had been taken up this ridge by the cook with no water, and he didn't seem to care.
I was fine with the walk, but worried about Julian. He can be a stubborn bastard, and he wouldn't let me carry any of his load. This was also due to the altitude making him cranky. After 8 hours we finally got to the pass at the end of the ridge, and looked down a long ascent, then aong a river bed to see our target town. The cook tore off down the trail, leaving us with the porters and no map, or instructions. Great. We didn't manage to get to town until after the sun had set. THe walk down and along the river was very difficult. Danzing was complaining of altitude sickness from to much load and not enough fod. Denzing later said this was harder on him that anything he had ever done on Everest (he has done Everest twice).
Well, we were furious with the cook when we finally got home. We also bought beer for our porters. What could we do? The next day was meant to be an easy one, and we were under the impression that another porter was on the way.
Oh dear, so much to write and not enough time or space. I should mention that the town was charming. We stayed in a real Tibetan family's house. The labels on things had changed to chinese. Everything revolved around the people's religion. The kids were lovely, even though some of them had learnt the "hello pen" mantra and the "begging budda" hand mudra. But no, the story of our woe is being told here.
The next day was awful. Everyone was shattered after the previous day's exertions, and the cook changed our plans and dragged us up a god forsaken climb that had our porters threatening mutiny, Julian stumbling and mumbling, the cook looking serene and me pulling my hair out in frustration because nobody would let me carry any of their loads (I felt fine!).
That night something had to be done. I was going to call Raju, and organise another couple of porters, porters we should have had from the start. We couldn't reach Raju. So it was agreed that we should leave most of our stuff is Tserang (the town we were camping in), and pick it up on our way back. It had been part of our plans to do a circuit of the valley. But things had been fucked up (bad language I know, but very descriptive) too much, and now we were on the easy road to the capital Lo Manthang, and the porters made it clear that they would not be leaving it on the way back. I cannot blame them. Other groups we met were having a great time with their English speaking guides and they were not even aware how many porters and donkeys they had -- all they knew is that their stuff was moved around without fuss.
Again, I am telling stories of woe. But don't worry, we were having fun still. Mustang is an amazing spot. The isolation and the spectacular landscape are just the start. The villages are so much nicer than on the circuit. The people are nicer and tourism has had very little visible impact. And there are cute little tales, like the nice girl at the place in Tserang who sectretly opened a hotel door next to our tent so that we could sneak inside and sleep comfortably that night. She liked playing with my dreadlocks. We had these experiences too.
To Lo!The next day it was off to the forbidden city: Lo Manthang. The Upper Mustang was only opened to outsiders in 1992, and the number of visitors is limited to 1000 per year. The trecking permit also costs $US700 for 10 days. So this is a pretty special place. Everyone got their in good moods, with their lighter loads. Mind you, the cook was starting to really get up our noses. J wanted to kill him, and I spent a fair bit of my energy keeping them apart and being nice to avoid the walk descending into farce. He was constantly asking us to write a good reference for him, hung over us while we ate, and we could not understand what the hell he was talking about.
One hilarious incident occured when he gave us coco-pops for breakfast. I said that I would rather some of the muesli that was sitting on the shelf next to where he was standing. He didn't understand so I said "muesli, granola, I want" (break things down to a noun and a verb usually works).... then kept repeating the word muesli while pointing at the muesli and making eating motions. He kept repeating, "yes thankyou please" then left the room. The porters (who didn't speak any English but got the gist of what I wanted) laughed and I got up and fetched the muesli myself.
Lo was great, thought there were a surprising number of people trying to sell us antiques and very agressive kids wanting pens and candy. One little girl in particular needed some drastic disciplining. When we were spotted with candy she would run over yelling "mine mine give" and grabbing at your leg. Once this prompted J to start shoving a chocolate bar into his face right in front of her. The look of horror on her face was priceless... so many people was give her candy. J and I have a strictly no giving to children policy (these kids aren't needy, just looking to get something for nothing, a habit that most Nepalis find offensive too).
We found a guy who spoke good English and gave us a tour of the city's gompas (monastries). He was a great guide, and after he took us to his antique shop! Mind you, the pieces that he had from going around the villages in Mustang were amazing. And J and I did get a couple of very nice souveneers from him. We sat there talking with him for an hour, getting the low down on the uses of all the antiques, along with the significance of the gods and pictures drawn on them. Some French tourists came in looking for trinkets, and after bargaining hard with him for half an hour left with their "pretty" goods. We then asked him about prices on the things we had chosen. He said "no bargaining price" and gave us prices a long way under the best that the Frogs had got after all their bargaining.
The gompas had the best quality paiting on the walls that we had seen anywhere. Incrediably fine detail in gold and paint on plaster. Walls covered in mandalas and buddas showing hundreds of different hand mudras. For six months of the year, the same Italian restorers who worked on the Cisteen Chapel work in Lo Manthang's gompas to restore the art. It was damn impressive.
The next day we walked north (something that one is not permitted to do), and saw the monks doing their morning pujas (prayers) at the Nasgal Gompa (complete with 3 meter trumpets and a monk making a sand mandala on the floor through the whole process). This was a little bit of Tibet preserved from the Chinese. We then walked further north to to the town of Chhesang, which is half caves/half houses. Cool.
After our two days in Lo it was back down the valley. There were other adventures, but I am tiring of typing as we were by then. I it was such a chore getting the team from A to B while tolerating the deteoriating behavior of the cook made us keen to complete the walk. Of course, we saw and did great things, and had fun in between. But the over-riding emotion of the walk back to Kagbeni was of tiredness and irritation. We both got colds on the way back -- not a fun thing when you are walking between 3500-4000 meters altitude all day (we spent 8 days in this height range... now the air in Pokhara feels like soup).
On the second last day I lost patience with the chef, and we decided to keep going to the end on that day. I told Denzing that there would be no more chef (he understood, nobody likes a moron psychopath).... and we made a very hard 3 hour walk into the strongest, dustiest wind I have ever seen to get to Kagbeni. We were shattered, and we shouted ourselves a snickers bar at the end to celebrate no more cook. We both agree that walk was the furtherest we had ever gone to avoid anybody!
Again, 3 days walk, 3 jeep rides and painful 3 hour taxi ride with the only sane (read that he drove too slowly) taxi driver in the entire sub continent was a tale of two boys wanting to get home. I also got giardia (spelling) on the second last day. giardia is no fun at all: a parasite that gives you the runs, makes your tummy swell with gas... lots of bad wind and burps that tast like eggs. Luckily I am a veteran of hiking with giardia and I know the formula
Immodium + Fasigen + Codien = walking.
The EndWe are back in Pokhara tomorrow, enjoying a nice hotel paid for by Raju, and resting our weary bodies after 24 days of walking. Tomorrow we are off to India, and I will probably have my birthday in Dehli. Should be fun....
Those of you who have made it this far, well done. I don't know if I would have read all that, but somehow I have managed to write it! I will write more regularly, limit my misadventures and have more good luck.... should be enough to make the posts a bit shorter.
