Nepal - Kathmandu and Annapurna Sanctuary

Trekking to Annapurna base camp.

Transcript

Episode 9

Nepal, Kathmandu, Pohkara and Annapurna Base Camp

Hey everybody and welcome to the ninth episode of “Goin’ down the road with Randy”. In this episode we will be trekking in the ancient and mystical country of Nepal. True to form, we’re doing it our way – on our own. When one treks in Nepal it is usually assumed you will be hiring a porter and / or a guide. It is accepted practice, contributes to the local economy, and makes for relatively easy hiking unfettered by heavy backpacks. But that’s not what we want. We want to be independent, we are used to carrying all of our stuff and we don’t mind doing it. Plus, we don’t have money to spare for porters or guides. We have also heard many stories of trekkers having drama and disagreements with their porters and we don’t want to deal with any of that. The ramifications of the choice to use porters, or not, will color much of your Nepal experience, so make your choice wisely.

The flight from New Delhi, India to Kathmandu, Nepal ranks, by far, hands down, without a doubt as the most memorable, freaky airline travel I’ve ever had the dubious pleasure to experience. We depart, more or less on time, in a Royal Nepal Airlines vintage 727. All goes well until about 45 minutes into the flight and I notice that we are flying in circles. Eventually, the pilot informs us that there is bad weather in Kathmandu and the plan is to land in Patna, India and wait for it to blow over.

So, we land, getting fantastic views of the Ganges River on the approach, and then sit on the tarmac in the blazing hot sun for over an hour. We take off again and I realize that we will probably miss meeting our friends from Wales, Phil and Karen. (The same ones we traveled through Indonesia with.) Hopefully, the mountain views will compensate for the missed opportunity. 

We arrive over Kathmandu in cloudy and turbulent conditions. Kathmandu sits in a bowl-shaped valley, ringed by mountains. And not just any mountains, these are the foothills of the Himalaya mountains. As our plane circles Kathmandu I see glimpses of these mountains through the clouds and desperately hope that we will not fly into one. The plane is banking one way and then the other, constantly buffeted by the chaotic winds. Finally, the pilot gives up and decides to return to New Delhi.

A relatively short flight of less than an hour and a half brings us back to where we started from this morning, Indira Ghandi International airport. Royal Nepal provides a voucher for a cup of tea and invites us to hang out. As if there is any other option for us right now. There is one more flight – the last of the day - at 7:30 pm. If that flight doesn’t leave, they have to get us all a hotel room for the night.

Of course, we all get on the 7:30 flight, which takes off promptly at 8:15. An hour and a half later we glide into a perfect landing in Kathmandu in clear air and a starry night. We clear Customs and Immigration before 10. The Immigration guy tells me that we are the only flight to land in Kathmandu that day. I feel like telling him that I would be just fine with a hotel room in Delhi and come back tomorrow but I don’t think he would understand. I reckon the pilot wanted to get home. In the end it took us over 13 hours to complete an hour and a half flight and we felt lucky for it!

We share a taxi from the airport for 100 rupees with an Israeli couple to the Earth House Guest House where we get a nice, cozy room with a 5 ½ foot ceiling for 130 rupees. We’re getting about 125 rupees to the dollar but everything is so cheap that if you round way up and say it is 100 to the dollar the calculations are easier and you can be assured that the deal you think you are getting is actually 20% better than what you think it is. A room for a buck! So what if I had to stoop! We unpack and go out for a nightcap and check out Kathmandu. We stumble upon the “Blue Note” bar and thinking of the old Blue Note bar in Boulder, Colorado we step in and go up the winding old stairs so typical of Kathmandu. It has the feel of an ancient, medieval city with narrow winding streets where all life takes place. We have a few beers but the bar soon closes at 1130 and it’s just as well, because we’ve had a long day.

Tuesday, March 24, 1992

We sleep in until noon and then venture out into the city – Kathmandu by daylight.

Nepal is an ancient land that has long been an absolute monarchy, but just two years ago (in 1990) a massive “People’s Movement” introduced a multi-party constitutional monarchy. During our time in Nepal there was considerable political unrest. Today, Nepal is the only multi-party, fully democratic nation in the world that is currently ruled by a communist party. It is also sports the world’s only non-rectangular flag that is both the national and the state flag.

We find some place that calls itself a “bistro” near the Kathmandu Guest House and get a brunch. The portions are huge! We then go out and wander from Thamel, the center of the tourist district, down to Durbar Square and back. There is so much to see, everybody is busy doing something. Every street is a novelty. There are vendors selling very nicely done embroidered t-shirts that we make a note to buy later and some really cool neckties made of wood. I buy a giant, like 7-gram, chunk of hash for 200 rupees – not even 2 bucks! I discover a new weight measurement – a “tola”, which is about 10 grams.

We make the short trip out to Boudhanath stupa and learn how to turn the prayer wheels properly, always clockwise, each one inscribed with a mantra, “Oom mani padme oom”. The spinning accumulates good karma and spins off bad karma. The more you spin the more good karma you get and the less bad karma so we take a couple of laps building up a bunch of real good karma for the trek ahead.

 

It is the same with the strings of colorful prayer flags that are seen everywhere. Prayer flags spread the mantra and prayers are blown everywhere by the wind taking good karma far and wide. Sometimes villages will have carved or painted “mani” stones near the entrance which should always be passed on the right and in a clockwise direction.

 

We make it to happy hour at Maya Bar and their 50 rupee beers and meet an Austrian dude named Mario that we had seen at brunch. I sell him some of the hash and we drink and smoke and then go crash.

 

We have found a new place to stay at the “My Rest House” at the “Israeli” price of 100 rupees a day with private bathroom – normally 250 rupees. Israelis are renowned for backpacking their way across Asia on the savings from their mandatory stint in the army and they are fantastic bargainers which allows them to travel a long time. We quickly pack and move then go change money and then have another huge breakfast at ‘Bistro”.

We have a contact here in Kathmandu, an American ex-patriot that we went to school with in Boulder, named John and we have been asking about him. Many people know him, but our paths have yet to cross. Finally, we contact him and learn that he has a Norwegian girlfriend, named Ingrid, and her parents are in town, so he is tied up, but he suggests we try Immigration in the afternoon to apply for our trekking permits. 

So, when people from, America, for example, go trekking in Nepal, they normally do so through a travel outfitter who handles trekking permits, and arranges for porters and guides. Yeah, we weren’t doing any of that so we have to navigate the bureaucracy – which was quite extensive – on our own. We have to get our own trekking permits and we intend to carry our own stuff and travel without a guide. This makes us the lowest of the low as far as the locals are concerned – all we pay for are rooms and food and drink – mostly drink.  We are seen as not contributing to the economy, but we are doing what we can, as we are nearing the end of a long adventure and are down to the last of our dollars.

Our first foray to the Immigration office was fabulously unsuccessful. They basically tell us to come back tomorrow. We end up wandering through the back streets of Kathmandu. What an incredible, medieval city. We make our way back to our room and shower before going to the Maya and meeting Mario for happy hour.

The next morning, we are at the Immigration office bright and early but just pick up our forms because the line is so long and the room smells disgusting because of the toilet.

We go have a large, leisurely breakfast, complete with hash browns and we fill out all the forms and, thus fortified, return to battle with the Nepali bureaucracy. Itzak and Yael, our Israeli friends, are already there. We stand in line until 1 and the John comes in with Ingrid and they are applying for trekking permits for her parents. We finally finish the paperwork and meet across the street for a much-needed drink. It has taken most of the day just to get the trekking permit. Still, a day is cheaper than an outfitter. Our permit is good for 14 days from March 28th to April 10th.

We hang out and talk a while but we have many errands we need to run before we catch our bus to Pokhara tomorrow and begin our trek. We have decided to go to Annapurna base camp in the Annapurna Sanctuary. We feel that Everest base camp is too popular and is also a much longer hike, unless you fly into Lukla and that is out of our budget.

We buy hats, and socks, and gloves and food. We have been traveling a long time but trekking in Nepal, self-sufficiently as we intend to do it, was more like preparing for a backpacking trip which we have not done since New Zealand, really, and we had long since sent most of the required gear (sleeping bags, pads, and boots especially) home. So we get a map and rent sleeping bags and get lots of small money from the bank. (John had warned us to not take large bills on the trail.)

We’re feeling very pleased with ourselves and we meet John and Ingrid for dinner and manage to convince them not to go to the computer room tonight and so we sit at Marco Polo’s eating, drinking, smoking hash and enjoying the resultant lively conversation.

Friday, March 27th, 1992

Wakie, wakie at 0530 and pack and go for breakfast. Nepal is no stranger to early starts and Le Bistro is open. We get a big, hot breakfast before finding our bus outside the Immigration office. 130 rupees – a buck – to Pokhara and it should be an 8 hour trip. We’ll see, it’s not like I haven’t heard that before.

We start out in the early morning and climb out of the Kathmandu valley but I can’t see much from my seat so when the bus stops at a traffic jam on the other side of the hills I take the opportunity to climb up onto the roof and sprawl amongst the luggage thrown up there. It was the best seat on the bus in many ways. We could smoke hash up there – as long as you could get it lit. I figured if the bus missed a turn and rolled into the gorge we had a good chance of jumping off. There was no danger of falling off due to excessive speed – I don’t think we went above 35 mph the whole day. And, we had the best, unobstructed view in all directions.

Unfortunately, it was a hazy morning and the views were obscured. Still, it is a great way to travel. The road was mostly new and smooth but, in the places, where it was still being constructed it was bumpy and restricted to one lane, creating chaotic bottlenecks.

We stop for a lunch of daal bhaat in Dumre. Daal bhaat is the thing to eat while trekking in Nepal. First, it is everywhere, all the time. It is rice and curried lentils with heaps of wilted spinach. It will fuel your trek and keep you regular and wherever you get it, it is always all you can eat. If you’re still hungry, they’ll give you more. I watched porters devour heaping third helpings.

We finally reach Pokhara at 4 p.m., making it a 9-hour journey. Not too shabby Nepal! The police at the checkpoint make everyone get off the roof before entering Pokhara. Immediately we are besieged by touts offering us lakeside lodging and free transport. Somehow we end up at the Friendly Guest House where we get a room for 80 rupees.

Pokhara is considered the tourism capital of Nepal, being a base for trekkers undertaking the Annapurna circuit which, as the name implies, is a circuit of the entire Annapurna massif. The city is also home to many of the storied and elite Gurkha soldiers. The Annapurna Range, with three out of the ten highest peaks in the world — Dhaulagiri, Annapurna I and Manaslu — are all within 35 mi of the valley.

We go check the bank for more small money – no dice, so we hang out and have a beer or two. We hit the hay soon after dinner though and we have our trekking packs ready to go. We’ll leave some bags here in storage while we’re on the trail.

You don’t go trekking in Nepal because it is the hip, cool way to see the countryside. No, walking is quite literally the only way to reach the mountain base camps. Supplies are all brought up by porter and mule train and everything gets more expensive the higher you go.

The next morning we leave the guest house before 7 and get a taxi to the bus station for 25 rupees each. There we find a truck that will take us to a head start at Birethani for 75 rupees. Birethani is normally a 2 day walk from Pohkara, so we hop on and get dropped off just in time for lunch, more daal bhaat. 

After lunch we shoulder our packs and set off for Tirkedunga which sits at an altitude of 5175 feet and it should be a little over 2 hour walk.

The trail follows the Bhurungdi Kola (kola is “river” in Nepali) and before long we run into a waterfall which begs us in for a swim and we did not dare disappoint the waterfall. Smoke a bit of hash, dive into the icy, clear waters and we are ready to hit the trail again.

We go gently uphill, passing small villages, Lamthali, Sudame, and in Hille we encounter a large wedding celebration that is butchering a buffalo on a bed of ferns. We are not invited, so continue on to Tirkedunga and stop at the first place we come to. A room is 30 rupees – a quarter! And for an additional 10 rupees we can have a hot shower but we must make an appointment and wait our turn.

Even though we have only walked a couple of hours I am beat and after a big meal of you know what I was out by 830.

Even so, we are amongst the last to leave the guest hose the next morning, getting out at about 8 after a big breakfast of eggs and potatoes to fuel the long haul up to Ulleri, two hours away, all uphill. We stop in Ulleri to have a big pot of tea. The view back down the valley is truly phenomenal. The vistas in Nepal are incomparable. If it is not hazy it seems you can see forever.

We leave Ulleri and battle through several mule trains. This trail is the road in this part of the country and no motorized vehicle can negotiate it so all commerce is transported by mule train and when one comes through the only thing you can do is just stop and let it pass.

We stop for a lunch of mountains of daal bhaat in Banthanti and after lunch are treated to a lush oak and rhododendron forest. Rhododendron is “laliguras” in Nepali and the type that grows here makes giant trees of vibrant blooms. The contrast in temperature is noticeable now – we have left the hot lowlands behind and are now in the cool mountains.

Another hour and a half of trekking brings us to Nayathanti where stop for some bird watching but we need to get up the hill to Ghorepani where we reach the pass and are rewarded with our first view of an 8000 meter peak – Dhaulagiri, at 8167 meters it is the seventh highest in the world.

We get a room at the Gurkha Hotel after registering at the police checkpoint. Ghorepani is at 9350 feet so we have gained 4000 feet in elevation today – nearly a mile! The sunset over Dhaulagiri is stupendous, augmented as it is by some of Nepal’s finest hashish. We gather around the fire after dark as it gets quite cold when the sun goes down. We all eat dinner at a communal table and talk about routes and plans but everyone soon breaks up as most are foolishly going to Poon’s Hill, another thousand feet higher, for sunrise. I have long ago discounted the whole “you must be at the top of <insert place name here> at goddamn sunrise”. In my experience it is often much nicer at a more reasonable hour when all the damn amateurs have gone away. In any case, I certainly feel better about it and since I’m the one doing it I happen to be the only one who actually matters.

The next morning we decide to take a rest day and just hang out after sleeping for 12 hours. I smoke hash and drink chai while watching the clouds trade places around Dhaulagiri. Magnificent landscape! Finally we decide to make it a semi rest day and hike up to Deorali, at 10,100 feet.

It’s only about an hour and a half and the trail follows a ridge which promises incredible views but, due to shifting clouds, fails to deliver the promise. We are definitely off the main Jomsom track now though – the trail is just that, and not paved with stones.

 We reach Deorali but it is not inspiring. It occupies a pass which should provide amazing vistas but it is all clouds today. We hang out and have some chai hoping a view will appear and the go on down to (another) Banthanti at 7200 feet. We know that at some point we will be forced to regain those three thousand feet of elevation. That is Nepal trekking, up, up, up, and down, down, down, it matters not if you are coming or going.

We get a room at the Rising Sun Guest House for 30 rupees. They offer hot tea and cold beer and we get both. After dinner we tuck in for an early night. Our plan is to hike to Tatapani and then continue to Chomrong tomorrow. We expect a mostly uphill 6-7 hour day.

Tuesday, March 31st, 1992

The hike to Chomrong is a bitch. First leaving Banthanti we descend way down to the end of the gorge, losing more elevation, before crossing the river and going up, up, up, to Tatapani where we catch Itzaak and Yael, who left earlier. We have tea and admire the view. This would have been a better place to stay last night.

We cross the pass and descend again – I am cursing every foot of elevation lost – but the rhododendron forest is beautiful. We see what we think is Chomrong on the opposite hillside. There are scattering of huts and wheat fields terraced down to the village of Kyumnu across the river of the same name.

The trail we are on leads us on a tortuous adventure down through these fields. Itzaak is having some trouble – the trail is quite rough. At the bottom it reminds me of the West Ridge trail in Eldorado Canyon – barely a trail at all. We cross the river on a suspension bridge and have daal bhaat and chai in Kyumnu on the other side while waiting out a rainstorm. This is the true beauty of trekking in Nepal. Although there are some high pass crossings which can be rugged, you are usually within an hours’ walk of a place to eat, sleep, or stop for some chai before continuing on. But, the walking is, I’m afraid. mandatory. I find the absence of motorized vehicles refreshing, though the mules keep reminding me of the alternative. I’m on the fence deciding between exhaust and mule shit – I guess all in all the shit is better.

We continue trekking to Chomrong, another two hours all uphill. The hill is steep and the weather turns bad again and we shift into high gear. We get to the Himalaya View Hotel just as the storm breaks. It is the nicest room we have had thus far and the view is nothing short of spectacular. At 5 pm, as if on cue, the clouds all roll away and we are treated to the setting sun reflected in Machapuchere, Hinchuli, and Annapurna South. We have dinner in the unheated dining hall and then retreat to our sleeping bags. We’ll have a real rest day tomorrow and do some laundry.

Wednesday, April 1st, 1992

Yeah, right, some damn rest day, if we have many more rest days like this we’ll look like refugees. We got up and had tea and did laundry in a single bucket of hot water and hung everything out to dry and then went down into town to have breakfast and see about renting a fat down jacket for the hike into Annapurna Sanctuary.

Here’s what Wikipedia says about the Sanctuary. ”The Annapurna Sanctuary is a high glacial basin lying 40 km directly north of Pokhara. This oval-shaped plateau sits at an altitude of over 4000 metres, 13,000 feet and is surrounded by a ring of mountains, the Annapurna range, most of which are over 7000 metres. Annapurna itself is over 8,091 meters. With the only entrance a narrow valley between the peaks of Hiunchuli and Machapuchare, where run-off from glaciers drain into the Modi Khola River, the Sanctuary was not penetrated by outsiders until 1956. Because of high mountains on all sides, the Annapurna Sanctuary receives only 7 hours of sunlight a day at the height of summer. The unique combination of heights and depths on the 5-7 day trek into the Annapurna Sanctuary give rise to an extraordinary variety of ecosystems. The south-facing slopes are covered in dense tropical jungles of rhododendron and bamboo, while the north-facing slopes, in the rain shadow, have a drier colder climate similar to that of the near-by Tibetan Plateau.”

We know it’s gonna be cold up there and it sucks being cold. We find two down jackets available for rent at the Chomrong Lodge for 30 rupees a day- big and fat as sleeping bags. We have breakfast and then go check on the laundry which is nearly dry so I go have a shower, brisk and cold and mercifully short. By the time I dry off and warm up our laundry is dry enough so we settle up our bill and head out towards Chomrong. The Captain’s Lodge, to be exact for some Captain’s Soup and thick homemade bread. We rent gloves and plastic to cover our tennis shoes in the snow. I saw some porters going up there in flip flops. Fortified, and ready as we will be to trek above treeline, we check in at the checkpoint and head down to the river, cross and begin the long plod upwards to regain lost altitude. We pass Simuwa and then arrive at Kurdi Gar, but we don’t stop – now remember, this started as a rest day – and it starts to rain again and we are pretty wet by the time we reach the Trekker’s Stop at Bamboo where we stop for the night at an altitude of 7700 feet.

We meet a couple of American lads and invent a new drink – hot lemon and rum, which becomes quite the rage. This place is blessed with an interesting bamboo – what else? – toilet suspended over an immense shithole. The down jackets come out and prove to be quite warm and well worth their marginal weight.

The next day I wake with a sniffle and feel no urgency to leave finally making it out at 9. We trod ever upwards on a deteriorating, wet trail through thick bamboo forests and dizzying glimpses of the Modhi Kola rushing, milky white, far below.

We stop for lunch at the Himalaya Hotel at 9425 feet and shovel down piles of daal bhaat. Then continue up past Hinku Cave at 10,300 feet. It is, in fact, an actual cave. The trail gets rougher winding around and over boulders, constantly uphill. We cross a very scary, huge pile of avalanche debris and hope more doesn’t come down as we cross. We reach Deorali (10,600) at about 2 pm and we are ready to stop rather than go the 30 more minutes to Bagar. We have a cup of chai and the rain decides for us – no more wetness.

We settle in for a relaxing afternoon. They tell us it is an easy 3 hours to Machapuchre base camp at 12,150 feet and then another hour to Annapurna base camp at 13,550 feet. The weather begins to really deteriorate though. It snows heavily in mid-afternoon and then rains and now at 645 pm it is snowing hard again. And it is thundering. I don’t know what effect this will have on the avalanche situation and our plans to make Machapuchre base camp tomorrow.

We decide to go early if it is clear and if it is cloudy, we’ll hold off and go later and hope it doesn’t snow on us. We’ll see.

The next morning dawns clear so we’re out. We feel like we are a bit late waking up at 7 am, but that is actually pretty damn good according to our track record. I feel like this healthy living in Nepal might be good. I mean, life ceases after 8 pm, wake up at dawn, hike all day, eat unlimited daal bhaat and sleep good. This could be the 2 week trekking daal bhaat diet answer to any first world problem. Go and meditate in the mountains, take some hashish, if needed or wanted, or not. Be happy.

We gulp down a quick fried egg and chapati breakfast with a big kettle of chai and we’re off by 830. We reach Bagar by 915 because the trail has been blocked by avalanches. On the whole, so far, the trail has not been terrible and we are confident in our running shoes wrapped in plastic bags approach. The quality of our footwear exceeds that of the porters we see passing us so, that ain’t the reason for our slowness.

We continue, ever upwards, slipping a little in the snow, but then we meet Yael sliding down to us on her butt. She has decided that last night was as cold as she goes and Itzaak is going up to Annapurna base camp solo and she will wait for him in Bagar.

We make it to Machapuchere base camp at 1130, too late, really to continue on to Annapurna base camp, and besides, we don’t really feel like it.

We spend the afternoon alternately basking in the warm sun and shivering in the cold shade while watching the clouds chase themselves around the mountaintops punctuated by the periodic and inevitable avalanches rumbling down their flanks.

We have daal bhaat and by 4 we are drinking rum and hot lemon. I do manage to be productive. I sew all the outstanding patches onto my backpack including the large dancing bears patch, so the day is, by no means, a total loss. I’m just hoping for a clear day tomorrow. We plan a quick, backpack-less round trip to Annapurna base camp.

No one else seems to be staying here at Machapuchere base camp. We are staying at the Fish Tail Guest House. Fish Tail is the nickname for Machapuchere and when you see a picture of the peak you will immediately know why. Machapuchere is unique as regards Nepali mountains in that it has never officially been summited, and likely never will be. There was a British expedition in the 1950’s that voluntarily stopped a few hundred meters short of the summit. Nepal has not granted any climbing permits for the mountain since then. Machapuchere is considered the sacred home of the god Shiva and not many dare anger that particular god, known as “the Destroyer”.

The people that are here are drunk and we figure rather than get angry we’ll just join ‘em and so spend the evening drinking Star Beer and rum and lemon. When we go to bed, the sky is clear and the avalanches thunder periodically.

Saturday, April 4th, 1992

We are up at dawn and it is clear. We have no excuses left. I get some chai and breakfast and we set off, trailing this strange Irish dude who sat all night last night, not drinking, reading Robert Ludlum’s “The Aquitaine Progression” and not speaking to anyone. I mean, he was a singular character. We take only a light day pack for the trip up to Annapurna base camp and back.

The view and the landscape become more spectacular with each step we take. The snow is hard underfoot until we reach the line of the sun where it instantly becomes soggy and wet.

The altitude is taking its toll. Even without packs we are winded and weak and we feel humbled because we used to boast we were from Colorado and used to such altitudes. Sadly, that is no longer the case. It takes us an hour and a half to reach Annapurna base camp.

We settle in and order some chai and fried egg chapatis. The price here is 5 times the price lower on the trail. It’s because, of course, that someone had to haul it up on their backs and we pay it without complaining. In fact, I feel somewhat obligated to order a Star Beer at the inflated price, with the full knowledge that some poor bastard hauled it all the way up here and the least I could do was order one and enjoy it and quit bitching about the price.

As we eat, Annapurna clouds over and plays peek a boo, dodging in and out of the clouds. The way the clouds whip around these high mountains is like watching flames in a fire, and just as mesmerizing. The winds up there must be quite formidable today.

We wander up to the edge of the steep drop of the moraine with views over the Annapurna group, including Tent Peak, Fluted Peak, The Fang, Hinchuli, and of course, Machapuchere. The vista is beyond words. The scale is immense and with the lack of oxygen it is quite literally, breathtaking.

Annapurna is a massive mountain made up of a main summit and thirteen smaller summits. The whole mountain complex is a staggering 55 kilometers long. The main summit is the tenth highest mountain in the world and it was the first 8000 meter peak to be climbed, by a French expedition led by Maurice Herzog in 1950, and it has the distinction of being the only 8000 meter peak to be summited, and safely descended, on the first try. It does not, however, look easy from here. I’m pretty sure the place where these guest houses are overlooks the actual Annapurna base camp which is down the steep moraine and closer to the mountain. Hard to say as there are no active expeditions on the mountain – it is too early in the season by about a month.

We look back down the trail and to our amazement we see one of the dudes from Laos and Viet Nam! Todd is slogging up the trail accompanied by an unknown to us, female. We hang out and catch up while waiting for his partner in crime, Dave who was only a couple of hours behind. We talk and marvel at the smallness of the world.

There are three guest houses up here and each one is up its rafters in snow. A latrine is hopelessly and uselessly snowed in while the caretakers drink scotch, play cards, and periodically slid down the hill on sheets of plasticized cardboard. Hell, why not? If I were the caretaker up here at the end of the trail that is probably what I would do too.

We have had several hours up here and we need to go down. We ski down on our running shoes in the snow. We pass Dave on the way down, huffing his way up the hill. We make plans to meet at the Maya Bar in Kathmandu on the 13t,h but we both know that those plans may or may not materialize.

We ski in to Machapuchere base camp, pack and free up a much-desired room. We pay our bill of 782 rupees – which seems quite a lot but is less than six dollars - and head down to the forest. The clouds have come back down to ground level to play and the weather looks like shite in the valley we are walking into.

Sure enough, in the hour it takes us to get to Bagar we are hiking in a pretty steady rain. We stop for a pot of hot chai but at the first break in the rain we charge downhill to Deorali and we arrive just as it begins to snow and blow. It looks like a nasty night and it is only 230 in the afternoon!

We get a room at the upper lodge this time – not Panorama. The room is nice but unfortunately there is a large group from Singapore who are camping in the yard and clogging up the bar and restaurant. We go to Panorama for tea and noodle soup and when we return the Singaporeans have gone.

It is not even four pm so we just hang out until sunset. Clean living! Note, this lodge - Deorali Guest House – is not very good. There is a guide here who is drunk and abusive. Greta brings up a very valid point, to wit: tourists from the outside world have a discouraging tendency to make people in the places that they visit suddenly realize what they don’t have – where previously they have been quite happy with their situation - and this and constant contact with travelers  who are often irritable and rude and pissed off because everything isn’t just as it was at home (and, my god, why should it be for chrissakes and why doesn’t your sorry ass just stay the fuck at home?) It is this dynamic which cause much of the friction we experience as travelers. Then again, that is part of the privilege of doing it, is it not, - really? Things to think about while you suck on a bowl of hashish and attempt to become one with the landscape.

Sunday, April 5th, 1992

Here’s a quote to meditate on: 

“Wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good.” 

Gabriel Garcia Marquez from “Love in the Time of Cholera.”

I figure he is absolutely correct, which means we must pass down our hard-acquired wisdom, if at all possible.

So we sleep in a bit, settle our accounts here and go have breakfast at the other lodge with the nice family. We see a guy who was on the roof of the bus to Pohkara with us and chat a while. By 9 we are on the trail down to Chomrong. We dilly-dally, taking photos of flowers and birds. We stop for tea and biscuits in Dovan and noodle soup and chapatis in Kulda Gar. When we reach Chomrong, the Captain’s Lodge is full and we have somehow lost the gloves that we rented from them, so we continue slowly up the hill past them to the Chomrong Guest House where we get a nice big room with a hot (solar powered) shower.

We meet up with Itzaak and Yael again who have stopped here for a rest day. I don’’t think we have taken an actual full rest day and I do not know why that is but I think we will take one tomorrow.

They turn us on to the pizza which is actually pretty good here, and introduce us to their porters who spend their time making “boom-boom” - cigarettes which are emptied of tobacco and filled with ganja and hashish. One will absolutely blow your mind at these altitudes. Bring friends.

We also meet a group of Israelis who have hit upon a novel way to foster good relations with their porters. One which might be used by employers everywhere. First, they agreed on the deal – I think it was 150 rupees a day, not including food, and half pay on rest days (because porters don’t take rest days, trekkers do). Then, they pay them full price on rest days and buy their meals every now and then. The porters are happy and reciprocate with “boom-boom”. Everyone is happy. The boom-boom knocks us completely out.

The next day we take a rest day. A real rest day. We hang out in Chomrong. I do some laundry and take a lukewarm shower. This place has solar hot water, but it is cloudy today and has been cloudy for a couple of days. Then we sit around dumbfounded that there is no hash to smoke. How have I allowed this to happen? The situation is soon rectified when we see Dave and Todd come huffing up the trail. They have had a rough day, like ours yesterday. They came from the Himalaya Hotel, just below Machapuchere base camp and cruised all the way here.

We have a killer hacky sack session on the best patio in the world for views. The locals also join in, especially when the kids come home from school. I bequeath my well-used and beloved hacky sack to Mukti, a local student and porter, then go inside to consume numerous beers and pizzas and bowl after bowl of Calcutta hard black hashish.

Tuesday, April 7th, 1992

We hook up with the two dudes for the hike out but we do not set any records for getting out early – eh, what else is new, right? Or goal today is Landrung, or maybe Potana. We leave Chomrong and drop straight down to the hot springs, but we don’t partake because there is a large group from Singapore who have taken over the place. We do take the time to admire the marijuana garden in the back.

We continue down to the new bridge over the Modi Kola where we enjoy a lunch of, what else, daal bhaat. Then we walk leisurely along the Modi Kola until we are faced with the uphill slog into Landrung. It is only 3:30 in the afternoon but we decide to stay here tonite and walk out via Chandrakot tomorrow instead of going via Dhampus and Phedi.

We get a couple of rooms at the Shangri-La Guest House and settle in with some afternoon beers. We are in bed at the late hour of 9:30.

We depart Landrung at about 9 on a hazy morning. All the beautiful vistas are hidden behind the clouds. I guess we’ll have to return in the wintertime. Supposedly, a 4 hour walk will get us to Chandrakot and then 30 more minutes to Lumli, where we can catch a bus. We manage to make it to Chandrakot in 6 hours. I don’t know what happened – maybe we got lost? Maybe we were walking in circles? The trail went back and forth and up and down through terraced rice fields. It is hot and dusty – welcome to the lowlands of Nepal. Half the time we have no clue where we are.

We did stop for a nice dip in the icy cold river to alleviate the heat but what followed was an interminable, winding staircase up the side of a mountain. It is so hot, and I am so thirsty. I think it feels worse than it is because this is the last day and we just want to somehow be magically transported to Pokhara – poof, hello, we’re here!

Persistence pays off and we walk into Lumle and straight on a bus that drops us in Phedi for 50 rupees. We get a bus from there almost all the way into Pokhara for 8 rupees. We split a cab with two other lads which drops us by the lakeside – the damn cab ride was a tough bargain and set us back 45 rupees. We felt good though – the going rate is 60.

We try the Bhudda Hotel, but decide we want something closer to the water. It is a sliding scale, farther away from the lakeside is cheaper and it gets exponentially more expensive the closer you go. We wander around, somewhat dazed and tired from all the walking and adjusting back to the bustle of a mechanized city until we stumble into Snowland and collapse into a room for 125 rupees.

I manage to get up and hike over to the Friendly Guest House to retrieve our stored luggage before coming back for a shower. The shower was, unfortunately, a cold one as the power was currently out in Pokhara.

We go out for a fantastic meal at Beam Beam, pizza, lasagna, cannelloni. I feel like we ordered most of the menu, it is delicious and too hard to resist – we have been subsisting mostly on daal bhaat which is, itself, quite delicious, but it is kinda like eating porridge every day. It might be really good porridge but after a week or two it does not stimulate the appetite. Daal bhaat is the best and cheapest thing to eat on the trail. Many of the isolated guesthouses offer western food but often their interpretations of it are disappointing so it is best to stay with what they know. Here in the lowlands supplies are more reliable and there are tons of restaurants putting out quite delicious western-style meals.

We teach the boys how to play Cosmic Wimpout and are joined by some more trekking friends, Canadian Laurie, and Stephan and another American girl who has been teaching English in South Korea and knows Matt, and Paul and Darrin, who we traveled through Viet Nam with, showing once again what a small world it really is. She is planning a trip to Viet Nam and we give her all our information on it.

Finally, they kick us out and we stop at a shop just before they close to grab more beers and we retire to our room for rounds of beer, hash, and Jägermeister with a Grateful Dead soundtrack until the wee hours.

Thursday, April 9th, 1992

Sleep late, big breakfast then I go across the street to the outdoor barber and get a much-needed shave to clean off 14 days of growth, a little hair trim and a neck massage for 30 rupees. He snapped my neck with precision - like nothing I’ve ever felt before or since, and it felt great!

We trying to determine if the rumor of a general strike in Nepal on the14th thru 16th is true or just that – a rumor. If it is true it will throw a monkey wrench into our travel plans but no one can provide any specific answers and the phones are out of order so we can’t call John in Kathmandu to see what he has heard. We do know that there is a 7 p.m. curfew in Kathmandu due to communist unrest and some shootings in the city. The age-old question – should we stay or should we go?

I change some money and go shopping for hashish and souvenirs. We are hoping the wind will pick up and we can go for a late afternoon sail on Lake Pewa, we’ll see.

I do score some hash. This little, short dude takes me on a very sketchy tour of the back alleys of Pokhara and my imagination is telling me I’m gonna get my throat cut or something, but finally we enter a house where an old woman slices off a big ol’ fresh chunk for 300 rupees a tola – less than 3 dollars! It looked like she was cutting a slice off a loaf of bread. I am quite pleased and did not die.

The wind never does pick up – the air is like a dry, dusty blanket so we hang out and have a mellow evening smoking some of Nepal’s finest.

The next morning we confirm that the stories of unrest in Kathmandu are true, but apparently the curfew has been lifted so we decide to catch the bus there tomorrow.

The rest of the day is spent shopping and hanging out – hanging out mostly. The wind still never picks up for that sail, ah well. I guess that means I have to come back.

Saturday, April 11th, 1992

We are up at the ass crack of dawn to catch the bus to Kathmandu. Todd, Dave and I head straight for the roof and have a lovely ride rolling around on top of all the backpacks. The two hash torpedoes I have prepped for the journey mitigate the heat, sun and dust. 

We arrive, and after a thankfully uneventful bus ride, pull into Kathmandu at about 2:30 in the afternoon. We find a nice room at the Downtown Guest House for 200 rupees after some hard bargaining. After a nice hot shower to wash the dust off we return our rented gear and hit happy hour at the Maya where the presence of Todd and Dave foreshadows another pisser of a night. But after a filling meal at the Everest Steak House we feel our bed calling – it has been a long day.

The next day is when John’s band is meant to play even though Ingrid has been badly bitten by a local dog – not at all pretty. Unfortunately, while out shopping I start to feel really ill and I go back to the room where I have a fever of 101 degrees. I feel like shit and Greta brings me a sandwich before she goes out. I do eat the sandwich, but I am too tired to do more than that and read and sleep.

We spend the next few days shopping, buying tons of stuff that we intend to sell when we return to the US. When we fly out of Kathmandu to New Delhi on Royal Nepal Airlines we have a ticket booked on Air India to London where we will stop off and visit Paul and Janet, our British friends from Australia, and then continue on to New York. The odyssey is coming to an end.

We buy stacks of embroidered shirts, jewelry, sundresses, bags and some really nifty wooden neckties. I get a tola of beautiful, fresh hashish and spend a long time rolling it flat to the size of a postcard, then wrapping it with plastic wrap and putting it between 2 postcards and mail it to myself at the American Express office in D.C. where, weeks later, I successfully picked it up!

On Thursday, April 16th, we board our flight to Delhi and watch the snow-capped Himalayas retreat behind their veiling clouds. I hope to return to this magical place again, sooner rather than later. We are looking at a grueling 48 hours of travel before we see London.

Hey, that’s all I have tonight, I’ll catch y’all later somewhere down the road. Be sure and check my Facebook page for pictures!