Thorong La to the Kali Gandaki

We attempted the pass as soon as the sunlight filtered into the canyon, starting our climb around 6:15am. Though the hike is estimated to take as many as 6 hours (and therefore many elect to start around 4am), we made it to the top in 2.5, still managing to beat the predicted winds that pick up around 10am. I attribute some of our speediness to the "power breakfast" Steph and I concocted out of muesli, peanut butter and the remnants of our one-time treat of a vat of hot chocolate sludge. It took some convincing, but it ended up tasting rather delicious (as all things do when you are ravenous).

In addition to the potential complications that can come with hiking at elevation, exposure to the elements is somewhat more intimidating. The week before we attempted the pass several travels were forced to turn back when conditions became inhospitable. Lucky for us, there was (quite literally) not a single cloud in the sky when we made our ascent. The steep switchbacks dominating the first hour of the hike made it the most challenging section of the trail that day. Otherwise the path turned gradual and the route was infrequently dotted with some formidable icy cliffhanging sections. We reached the pass in the good company of our friends Armando, Ram, and Mondavi and celebrated with a whole crew of others that had exited camp hours before us. The panoramic view from the top was fantastic and the stark difference in lanscape on either side of the range divide was particularly striking. We hiked down from the pass into the stark dryness of the Kali Gandaki Valley - a painfully steep and winding 1600 meters.

Relief from lung squeezing elevation and restorative meals awaited us at the end of the day in Muktinath. This small village is one of the most revered holy places for both Hindus and Buddhists and is set up as a welcoming respite for backpackers and pilgrims alike. The town is very literally wrapped in prayer flags, and following an afternoon of foot rest we ventured out to visit the ancient temple of Vishnu and take a peek at the 'eternal flame' fed from a supply of natural gas filtering up from below a high perched Buddhist temple. We found each of these sites and others housed side by side within the same walled compound.

Once in the Kali Gandaki, the trekking route follows the road almost exclusively. We did our best to take alternative routes whenever possible, often adding several hours and lots of mis/adventure to our day. It's not uncommon to hop a bus or plane from Jomsom (a few hours walk by road from Muktinath) and end the trek. Road building in the area has taken some of the enjoyment out of walking in this area. We elected to stick it out, as stopping would cut the adventure in half and we were curious to take less popular routes and discover our own appreciation.

The town of Kagbeni promised fresh peach, apricot and apple preserves and a local distillery. Supplies were either exhausted or unpopular because we instead found a Yak Donalds with an attached 7-11. Neither resembled the American version (thank goodness) and for the novelty of it, and the growing "grungriness" from a long walk following a longer steeper walk, we ordered some of the local masala tea and seabuckthorn juice (deliciously thick rose hip-like brew). Our accommodations at the New Annapurna Guesthouse one of the best of the trip, offering down comforters and brightly polished wood finished rooms for 100 rupees a night (about a dollar each to share a room...and typical of the prices we paid along the way). The light was right on our morning of departure, so we made our way around the winding narrow walls of the city to take a barrage of pictures. Our favorite group of travelers from the Intrepid group made us aware of one particularly entertaining statue always standing "at attention" in an unassuming corner of town. Loved their senses of humor!

From Kagbeni we ventured off road to Marpha and Tukuche, leaving behind our desert-like surroundings for pine forest and green terraced hills. The towns we found tucked along the river and away from the road were some of the more peaceful spots along the entire route and seemingly unaffected by tourism. We saw traditional thatched houses stacked above livestock paddocks and vegetable gardens . People were inquisitive and eager to guide us, and not to herd us into a shop or hotel. We elected to hitch a ride by jeep to a foot bridge that would take us off route again to the town of Lete. The jeep ride over the freshly carved road proved entertaining to say the least. We were again over packed, miraculously wedged in, and crossing our fingers that we wouldn't meet head-on traffic on the half lane path. After several river crossings by automobile and enough jostling to convince us both that we were destined to bounce right off one of the many breathtaking curves, we were dropped off at a suspension bridge with simple sign and an arrow pointing our way.

Our circuitous route to Lete got us there long after dark, but we were able to pass by Titi lake and several small villages along the way. The views of the canyon and the seasonally dry river bed as we left the village of Konjo were particularly spectacular. After a long day (err several long days) of sweaty walking we decided to spring for a bucket of hot water for bucket bathing. It's almost as good as the real thing! There has to be some version of a comedic skit that captures the silliness that ensues when two people try to squat side by side and bath in a much needed way. We shared some good laughs (and I think the kids who found a vantage point on the hill above our bathroom did too).

From Lete we for Ghasa and took advantage of our last chance to opt to off-road. The alternative trail was blasted out of the rock wall for a ways and riddled with cobbled stone staircases for most of the rest. Those become less fun with weight on your back and lots of miles on your legs, but the views of the river were no less incredible and the promise of hot springs at the end of the day was more than enough motivation. This became one of our most difficult days. Steph and I got separated, got pissed, recovered, got harassed by random kids (first kid kicked dust, Steph kicked dust back, second instance too insulting to repeat), and culminated in a vomit fest from toxic smoke (that was all me..thanks to burning trash). Maybe too much info, but a doozy of a day like that is also set up for explanation of the aftermath. Tatopani's hot springs turns out to be a den of sin of sorts. No local ladies frequent the area and a friend of ours caught a guy taking her picture in her bathing suit (nobody's used to seeing/showing much more than face, hands and ankles). That put a severe damper on some much needed and much anticipated bathing, but we made do and did like the local would do if they "did" - we sprung mostly clothed. The real consequence of the rough day was that we didn't get to ascend Poon Hill, the steepest of the trek and one that promises some of the best sunrise views. Between my bout of illness and Steph's ragged feet and impending flight home, we were a day short of having time to complete the section of trail. We opted for a second day in Pokhara, which was ultimately a great choice. Pokhara's tourist district sits beside Lake Phewa Tal and turned out to be a low key place to take some well earned rest. We killed the better part of a day on a rented wood boat and foisted the solid 5 lb paddles over our shoulders to explore the hill tops on the other side of the lake. We found the brilliant white Buddhist Peace Temple and caught views of paragliders in every color of parachute jumping of cliffs across the lake in a swirling kaleidoscope of color. The day ended in me bailing out of the boat fully clothed- an ultimately unsuccessful and really dumb attempt to save my sunglasses from a bed of seriously polluted kelp/tires/can/bottles/??/one of my flip-flops (still feel guilty, RIP).
We returned to Kathmandu in time for a full strik of the Labor and Mainenance Party (though blame went to the Maoists), which meant that Steph had to leave for the hotel with all of her things on a rickshaw. It also meant that I had the entire day to hunt for places to eat and have relative peace on a beautiful day in an otherwise insanely busy and hurried atmosphere. I spent my last night dining at Thakali Banch, a place my friend Logan (from Corvallis) has suggested. He lived like a local there for two years and promised that the eatery would provide the best local fare. For pennies, I and the crowd of people I brought with me, ate piles of Thali among locals- quite a feat in an enclave of the city overrun with tourists. An amazing last day in Nepal!

Back to the Circuit

To continue the Nepali adventures....

By the eighth day of trekking Steph and I reached Braga, a short 20 min walk from the relative metropolis of Manang. From Upper Pisang we turned our backs on the staggering view of Pisang Peak and, from across the valley, walked along side Annapurna II and IV. I killed my camera battery in the first few hours of walking. Good lighting is fickle in the steep canyons, so it's necessary to snap while the snappn's good. Manang Valley was perhaps my favorite of the trail. The river was mostly dry, leaving behind a washed bed of braided stone. Conical ribbons of karsted sandstone bisect the major mountain ranges on either side of the valley, which narrows as it bends toward Thorong La. We took a "rest day" in Braga to allow our bodies to adjust to the elevation. I use the term loosely since we took advantage of our location and hiked up to the ice lakes at 15,000 ft. From that vantage point it feels like you're sitting in the middle of a chandelier. Instead of poking at the sky from below, the mountains seem to be hanging like a snowy 360 degree curtain. Incredible. Annapurna II IV and I tower above the lakes, a wall of peaks and glaciers with moraines splashing out below. We took on the beast of a hike with our friend Jonas, who ultimately got sick later in the evening and must of made the pass several days after us- we never saw him again. Fortunately, neither Steph nor I felt any of the negative side effects that often come with hiking at elevation.

While in Braga, we stayed at the New Yak lodge and kept warm with steaming cups of "hot lemon, " which is essentially hot lemon/lime Gatoraid. At this point the dream of showering with water more hospitable than glacial flow had long disintegrated, so with the teasing promise of a mild solar shower as our carrot we spent our second "rest day" in Manang itself. Other than a short morning jaunt to the ice blue waters of Gangapurna Lake, our time in Manang was spent collecting our last necessities before the pass and sampling Yak meat. I have re-termed Steph's vegetarianism to very respectable "flexitarianism." One of the many things I love about my cherished friend is her shared sense of culinary adventure. So, on that day, we ordering what Mavis's Kitchen calls "Yak Strog-noff." Verdict: super tasty, but the local cheese is much more yakalicious.

After strongly considering hanging around this area for a few extra days, we decided to take advantage of the incredible weather and continue making our way toward the pass.

As an aside, this is where we learned that most of the villages along the trail have long been abandoned by their original inhabitants. Most have moved to larger cities like Kathmandu for work (especially the youth and the men) and those that remain or have relocated here have come to take part in the tourist industry. It was sort of a harsh reality to face. The Annapurna region and pace of life there seemed so idyllic, so it was strange to view it again as a place much changed (and potentially not totally for the better culturally) under the gilded weight of almost constant tourism. The romantic vacuum-like oyster was transformed into the very real- an ever-adjusting, self-preserving, self-advancing reality. As we continued, a different kind of appreciation evolved.

With our water purification systems (steri pens) on the fritz from some combination of cold and elevation, we stocked up on vit-C fortified drink powder, re-stocked our chapstick supply, and purchased some Thanksgiving chocolate before hitting the trail to Yakarka. The three hour hike passed herds of the impressively adroit furry cow-like animals. Their snaking paths all along the hillsides were more than enough proof of their suitability to the steep scree sloped terrain. The Lulu peaks became visible as we turned the bend, with the trail snaking up toward our next destination at Thorong Phedi, or "foot of the hill." We were free to pace as we pleased before Manang, but from there we were careful not to ascend too quickly and risk altitude sickness. Yakarka was memorable for the rounds of poker, etc played around a smoky yak dung fire, and for the stench of the squat toilet that almost ran us out of our room. Thanksgiving marked the day before the pass. We broke into our Toblerone and a petrified (to our dismay) Cadbury 'fruit and nut' bar to give thanks. Much of the day was spent slurping down garlic soup and chattering about the pass conditions- the topic was popular among all trekkers and implied a heightened sense of intimidation as pass day approached. Our friend Rom brought his mandolin and played familiar tunes with a couple of locals with a slide guitar.

McLeod Ganj

One of the many highlights of spending time in this low key mountain town has been the short overnight trek to Triund. We scooped Bridget from the plane and hit the trail by headlamp. The 9k climb ends at a saddle in the high peaks of the towering Dhauladharas. As we reached the boulder-laden meadow that would be our camp, a light snow was blowing off the nearby peaks. We slept under a dense veil of clouds that, by morning, made way for the purple, blue and orange hues of sunrise. After a snickers on-the-fly breakfast, we headed up to the snow line to Ilaqua for views of the Indrahar pass that opens up passage to the Chamba Valley. Our path back to town followed a steep slate staircase and wound steeply through thick rhododendron forest.

Back in town the slightly glitzy, but mostly zen atmosphere is an interesting mix of the typical hubub dotted with maroon and gold robed monks patiently weaving in and out of the competitive chaos of the street.

Some of the highlights of McLeod Ganj so far have been the views of the lamb hawks that swoop in front of the "living room" window of our apartment hotel room, sitting for tea on the ridge below Triund with views of two valleys, wandering through the peaceful hilltop villages near Nadi, masala dosas for every meal, and getting stopped by an Indian family near the Dalai Lama Temple who wanted their children in a picture with me...the tables turned!

New Delhi

Back to the Mountains

After looking over the hurried efforts to update the blog, I notice all sorts of needed corrections and the very disjointed recount of the adventure thus far. I have ample time and fast affordable internet so I hope to do a better job of it...and least for now.

Here's a quick interruption in the tails of the Annapurna trek:
I just spent four interesting days in New Delhi to attend the ICID irrigation conference. Just before leaving for Asia, I had the opportunity to present some of the research I did as a graduate student at a national water conference (AWRA) in Seattle. I was invited to present again at the conference in Delhi, so I jumped on the chance and the rest is history. I unexpectedly spent the majority of my time in Delhi experiencing a face of the city that can only be described as the opulent end of the "extremes" spectrum. We were housed in a five star hotel that went way beyond anything I've experienced in the states in the way of service and luxury. I felt like a fish out of water dressed in my dingy hiking gear while in the company of elegantly clad wedding parties and dignitaries donning golden turbans. I did venture out to the "real world" in the company of the team of researchers from OSU. We took the old city in by rickshaw, which was even more amazing when rush hour stuck and we were joined on the road by all manner of transport. The roads are an amazing mix of ox drawn carts, hand crank bikes, rickshaws, buses, tuk tuks (onomatopoeia for three wheeled progress I assume), motor bikes, etc. We visited the Jami Mosque ( I witnessed my first case of elephantitis) and passed the Red Fort at dusk. Amazing views. Amazing tangle of people.

I left for Dharamsala to meet up with Dave and Chris promptly after presenting. I'm happy to leave the chaos behind and be back in the peaceful mountains. Mcleod Ganj is perched on a hill above Dharamsala. Last night the town was lit up by butter candles lining the city walls and we were fortunate to hear the chanting drifting from the Dalai Lama Temple just after sunset. Bridget arrives tonight and we'll leave our palatial apartment of a hotel room for a few days of trekking above the snowline.

Tenacious - D and Jazz Hands for the Children

The kids along the trail are very accustomed to seeing foreigners pass through their villages. Gaggles of them will scamper over and followed us entourage- style through town asking for the school pens, bubble gum, biscuits, etc. they've become accustomed to getting from passers by. Since we generally walked from place to place sans biscuits and balloons, we resorted to song and dance to assuage their pleas. For us, this took the form of jazzy hand gesturing, a few bars from Jack Black's finest tunes, and dance moves that very very very vaguely resemble those from Beyonce's recent smash hit video "Put on Ring on it." The trail from Bahundanda took a turn near the current efforts to blast new road into the Annapurna region. We're told that the government, in an effort to develop the country, has plans to connect each of the 75 districts of Nepal by road. The trail had been re-routed to avoid the blasting, which involved a river crossing over a newly constructed and very rickety bamboo bridge lashed together with wire the width of chain-link. We managed to dodge the falling rock and scramble up to safety. Watching porters do this with 100lb loads on their heads was all sorts of incredible.

We made our way through the village Tal, stopping for the pumpkin curry the they're known for and water refills. Thanks to efforts from the NZ government, there are drinking water purification stops available along the trail. For 35 rupees and a signature, the locals provide water and the needed proof to the government who continue to subsidize the effort. I brought a purification system, but I still supported the effort to mitigate the use of plastic bottles wherever I could.

After weaving through the valley with amazing views of cascading waterfalls, and winding our way up and down endless flights of steep stone staircases, we ended our day in Bagarchap at 6,000 ft. At this point we started to meet lots of other trekkers and to leap frog with a few familiar guided groups. Our German friend Phil indulged us in conversation about culture and politics in our respective countries, as well as a rousing game of gin rummy. It's amazing the barriers a deck of cards can break down. We spent a cold night around a heated round table discovering that, between the eight people and six nationalities, Presidents and As*holes was by far the most widely recognized game. Our favorite people along the way belonged to an Intrepid group made up of a fantastic array of characters from NZ, the UK, Germany, and Tazmania- all on various adventures or self-proclaimed "mid life crisis tours." Their brand of humor seemed to match ours (though I'm pretty sure we scared them to death with our pace of conversation, twisted colloquialisms, and constant laughter) and we seemed to run into them in all of the least likely places. Fated to be friends I guess. Despite several awkward goodbyes in the end, it was sad to see them go.

From our first could night in Barachap, continued on through Koto and up to Chame. I danced with danger and tried some of the buckwheat bread the area is known for. The cafe we stopped at pointed toward amazing views of Manaslu, Annapurna II and IV...and socks drying on the fence posts. Steph and I became pretty addicted to the masala tea at this point, meaning we drank as much as we could afford- morning and noon. It's an amazing blend of spices (the ten typical to chai) but still manages to taste differently everywhere we stop. Chame was a bigger town and the tea house we stayed at offered private cabins and extra blankets for warmth. Our attempt to bath in the hot springs was thwarted by over occupation, but I did manage a quick game of hand hackey sack with a family of seriously excitable children (even the baby played). By dark all of the guests crowded into the guest house dining area to gorge on dal baht and keep warm next to the under-table heater. Our night in Chame was entertained by a couple of Swiss chain smokers, a philandering retired Brit, our new Swiss friend Jonas, and some quieter compatriots- all of whom joined in a game of cards.

The roaring Marsyangdi became a trickle on our walk from Chame to Upper Pisang. We opted for the longer high route (adding three breathtaking hours) on the eastern slope of the valley overlooking the braided, and now nearly bare, stream bed. Our guest house was situated on the upper slope of town with a rickety balcony with views of the towering mass of Annapurna II across the valley. We showed up just in time to see a mass of powder suspended from avalanching on the eastern face. The accommodations vary drastically from town to town, though they amazing in their own right regardless. One night the mattresses are thick and solar showers might promise a luke warm wash, the next the pillows are stuffed with straw and the pipes are frozen over. On this evening our room had gaps in the wood planked wall so wide we could wave to people in the next room, but the views and good company more than made up for the lack of privacy. At this point in the trip Steph's left shoe had killed her big toe dead and shredded her heel to a nearly skinless mass, so she was hiking (30+ lb backpack and all) in her thongs AKA "jandals." Our friends from Down Under reminded us that the term "thong" for them conjures images of butt floss beach wear. Steph's practice of wedging her socked feet between the sandal straps ultimately inspired the new and improved term "jandal" - a throw back to the Japanese samurai. Anyway, she's a badass and has become an inspiration for both vocab and perseverance.

The Circuit

Michael Bolton is the New Chuck Norris
Our adventure started in Kathmandu where we were held up for several days waiting to retrieve Steph's lost baggage. Because we arrived on a Friday, and Saturdays and Sundays are the respective Nepali and Indian holidays, it wasn't until Wednesday that we made our way by bus to the trail head at Besi Sahar. We opted to go local style, so for 300 R we wedged ourselves onto an over-stuffed micro bus ride for a seven hour haul. Once out of the sprawl of the city, the 1.5 lane road wound along the Marsyangdi river valley. I have to mention that navigating the roads as a passenger here is an amazing experience. I had to decide to resign myself to the very real possibility of head-on collision or a tumble town the sharp cliff. Most of the roads are blasted out of cliff side rock, so the lanes lack serious girth. As for rules of the road, there are few but the chaos is respectful. I put my faith in the "system," as Steph referred to it, and tried not to notice the several shattered trucks dangling off the road. The bus ride also provided my first squat toilet opportunity and was lucky enough to occur at our one and only bus stop meal break along the way. BYO TP- n'uff said. We passed the time by coming up with brilliant distractions...err discoveries. Michael Bolton IS the new Chuck Norris. Pass it on. We've even started to market MB products like the Michael Bolton fold over sock (they too are on the way back to fashion re-discovery) complete with fringe made of from 100% "genuine" locks of MB's curly fro. SWOON. We also toyed with the idea of days of the week underwear (MB Monday..., etc) and kitchen utensils to complete the collection. After much laughter and distraction, we made it to our destination by dark and had our first traditional meal of dal bhat- a mountain of plain rice with sides of lentil soup, pickle, and vegetable curry.

FIRST DAYS
We set off walking the next morning to the first ACAP checkpoint where trekkers have to register their permits and TIMS cards to enter the Annapurna region/ national park areas. We waded through throngs of Maoist parading in the streets on our first day in KTM to procure the needed documents. The main streets around the city were clotted with protesters, but in most instances the red-clad seas of people parted to let us pass to the respective office or ATM we were trying to access. Once through the checkpoint, we were free to pace ourselves as we wished and pushed on for several hours to Bahundanda. The narrow dirt path to the hilltop town undulated up and down along newly harvested rice patty terraces. There is very little flat ground in this dramatically sharp valley and the trail is vehicle-free, so rice and all other supplies are carried in and out by basket (strapped to the forehead...amazing!), or by mule. Our first several days on the trail followed this narrow trail dotted with steep stone staircases and suspension bridges that zigzagged upriver. Our visit to Bahundanda was made particularly memorable by our early morning side trip to a local hot spring. The tea house owner sent his pint-sized nephew to show us the way. He sang and smiled and taught us the names of the trees and the bitter sweet fruit he picked for us to try. We tried to reciprocate with our own brand of song and dance and discovered "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" is a more universally recognized tune than previously realized. The hot spring itself was a sulfurous orange pool above the frosty waters of the Marsyangdi that boiled around house-sized boulders 100 meters below. It's clear from the impossibly steep angle of the valley walls and the size of the gigantic polished rocks in the river below, that the monsoon season blasts through this area with amazing force.

Himalaya by Thong

At least that's what the Kiwis are calling it...I'll explain later :) Steph and I finished the Annapurna Circuit and have already returned to Kathmandu and parted ways. This update is a long time coming and was further delayed by yesterday's Labor and Market Union strike. For a day, this jackhammer of a city was humbled to the roar of a fuzzy bunny. It was marvelous! Where taxis and motor bikes usually zip and honk and force pedestrians to cling to the margins of the street, there were kids playing cricket and hackey sack (I even saw a skateboard). There wasn't a single open shop, or a taxi on the street. Steph set off to the airport on a jam-packet rickshaw piloted by a toothpick of a man 1/8 the size of his load. Good laughs. So... I'll start from the beginning and try to slim this amazing adventure down to just the most entertaining details. Suffice it to say that we had the time of our lives, saw scenery that squashes any phrase that includes "awe striking," and met some really wonderful people along the way. Here goes...