Round the World Journal
by Matt Donath
Sept 11. Out in perfect weather, past many waterfalls and more landslides, as the trail winds back and forth across the Marsyandi River. We meet our first foreign trekker! A young Frenchman named Jean traveling around the other way. He's moving much too quickly as he's only on day eleven!
A helicopter flies in and lands in front of a crowd of locals waiting for it. We learn that a German hiker needed to be evacuated from Manang after falling ill from altitude sickness. As the weather in Manang has been bad, the helicopter took three attempts before successfully reaching him. He'll be billed for each attempt.
We're a bit tired today and I'm feeling sick, so the climb up to Bahundanda forces a rest. We eat lunch at the fly-plagued Tibetan Guesthouse. The service here is egregiously bad - after four tries at straightening out our order, they still get it wrong! The dishes are dirty as well. Pass on this place!
After checking in at an ACAP and police checkpoint, we lodge at a better Tibetan place called "New Asia," just outside of Syanje. We spend a long time chatting with the owner here.
Sept 12. Late start, passing over rocks that sparkle with silver mica. We see many waterfalls and many marijuana plants. Each time the trail crosses over the rumbling, rushing Marsyandi River we look down at the white water from atop rickety wooden or swaying suspension bridges. We now see restaurants as well as guesthouses. Many just offer dhaal bhat (one place doesn't even have lentils in the dhaal!), but their outdoor seating areas are attractively decorated with flowers.
We reach Tal after a bit of a climb, but we're expecting it to be higher than it is. Consequently, when we unexpectedly see Tal off in the distance along a broad, flat stretch of river I say: "It looks like the Emerald City." This sets us off singing Wizard of Oz songs until we get there.
We stay at the Manaslu Guesthouse. The French trekker Jean told us he had $100 stolen at the Paradise Guesthouse. We tell this story to a German trekker staying at the Paradise and he tells us he's had two cameras stolen on his trek! Several of the guesthouse owners have warned us about problems with thievery.
Just outside of Tal is a powerful waterfall. We try to go under it, but the force of the icy cold water nearly knocks us over.
From the other trekkers at the Manaslu (2 Americans and 2 Dutch) we learn about a landslide just outside of Dumre that has held up the buses coming from there to the usual start of the Annapurna Circuit in Besisahar. The normally unpleasant bus ride up there turned hellishly long as they waited 15 hours for the road to be cleared.
Sept 13. The sun takes some time to peek its way over the mountains into Tal, so we have a chilly start. The scenery shifts: no more terraced rice paddies. Instead, dramatically sheer cliffs with torrentially rushing waterfalls loom above us. Huge boulders block our way. We see more corn now and more amaranth.
By noon, we reach the ill-fated town of Bagarchap. This was once a popular village for trekkers to stay in, but a landslide devastated the area in November 1995. Many people were killed, including some foreign trekkers (3 Canadians, a Pole, and a Brit) who have some small memorials set up in their memory. The town is still rebuilding. Several guesthouses are open, but signs posted around the village warn trekkers not to stop at Bagarchap because of its dangerous history. I suspect the government wants to relocate the town, but the townsfolk are resisting the move.
I sit on a picnic bench writing these notes at a small restaurant. I stop to pour some mint tea (had to pour out some bugs with the first glass) and try to avoid the chicken shit on the table when I put my cup down. A gorgeous river canyon lies below, apple trees lining the slope down. Inside a nearby wooden hut, an old Tibetan woman prepares lunch for us over a wood fire stove. Some ashes fall from the chimney into my tea.
This Annapurna trek is a mixture of filth and glory. The trails are covered with the shit of cow, horse, donkey, sheep, goat, buffalo, human, and who knows what else. The villagers are covered with every pus-filled boil, rash and sore known to man. They have lice, fleas and bedbugs in their homes. They are bitten by mosquito and leech. A few of them eye you as if judging how easily they could take your money, but most of them are gems of friendliness. These fascinating and varied Nepalese are as wondrous as the views: tough, hardy, polite and congenial, quiet and determined. Despite the vast differences between us, we are usually pleased with our efforts to communicate with the locals. Sybil has a small phrasebook that always draws a lot of attention. I tip my hat to them and their magnificent country.
Since entering Manang District, the towns have archway entrances containing prayer wheels. We spin the wheels clockwise to recite prayers. We also see mani (prayer) walls with inscribed stones and other artifacts such as sheep horns and fir branches lined up. Remember to walk to the left of any religious building.
This is an unexpectedly long day for us after we follow a misleading sign (a part of it reads "don't be discouraged by steep slop") and climb above the town we wanted to lodge at. Drats! I'm pissed at first but we quickly decide to make the best of the situation. This longer path is wonderfully scenic, passing through pine forests with views of the river far below and the tremendous mountains above. We wander through some decidedly non-touristy villages with flowering buckwheat and kids who don't even ask for pens.
We have a long, hard slog behind some porters strapped to incredibly wide plastic pipes. These guys have to creep up most of the trail sideways and it's almost impossible to pass them. We climb again, cross some more landslides, and then descend back to the main trail. A tiring but scenic longcut! (Actually, we later learn that landslides on the lower path make that way long as well.)
We stay at a nice new place in Koto Qupar called Super View: comfy beds and larger food portions than most places on the trail - highly recommended.
Sept 14. Out late after a big breakfast and a stop at the nearby police checkpoint. For days I've been promising Sybil a chance to soak in some hot springs. Unfortunately, all of the ones we've passed so far have been submerged by the high river. I knew that the hot springs in Chame should not be submerged and was leading Sybil to believe that things would be different there.
Hmm, well yes and no. The springs are not submerged but they are disgusting! A large group of locals wash out their clothes in the tiny hot bath, foaming up the shallow water with dirty soap and detergent. To make maters worse, just above the spring is a pit toilet! Very sad because this could be a charming spot.
We see young children harvesting marijuana plants. They carefully separate the buds from the leaves and rub them in their grubby hands into a paste. We also see two guys with Maoist symbols written on the soles of their shoes. Finally, we see our first water driven prayer wheel. A stream recites the prayers as it turns the wheel.
After passing some more treacherous landslides and peaceful pine forests, we stop for lunch in Bhratang, at the Raju Hotel. Good veggie momos (Tibetan dumplings) made by Bhim Lama.
Climbing up through a path carved out of the rock, we cross a bridge and get a fabulous view of the Paungda Danda, a tremendous rock face that sheers up like one side of an immense cauldron. After another climb, we find a tranquil meadow leading into another pine forest.
Eventually, we make our way to Lower Pisang and the New Tibetan Guesthouse. This place seems to monopolize all of the business in Lower Pisang. It's the only place we've seen that almost looks busy! They do have two perks we have not previously seen on the trail: hot showers and peanut butter!
Sept 15. We take a much needed rest day. Sybil is tired and I have diarrhea again (still?). We do laundry, wander around town, and then climb up to Upper Pisang for a great view of the mountains just above our guesthouse.
Sept 16. I spend the first hour after dawn crouched over the pit toilet. My neighbors join me in adjoining stalls, sounding more flatulent but still less afflicted. I've started taking antibiotics. They may not be helping yet but they do give a tangy medicinal smell to my all too frequent discharges.
This is definitely the low point of my day, perhaps of my trip. Smectma and electrolytes do little to pick me up. Talk about temptation for taking the low, easy route to Manang! This way is only three, relatively level hours away!
Perish the thought! I'm not passing up anything of interest on this circuit and the high route to Manang is supposed to hold many wonders. Sybil tends to me and we get a late start.
Turns out to be one of the best hiking days of my life!
Up through a pine forest and past a clear, green enchanted lake. We have to hike down and touch this water just to make sure its real. Then we pass a combination mani/prayer wheel wall where a local guy demonstrates a dance to his buddies while they listen to Indian music on a portable radio.
Then we climb up... and up... and up... . We're trying to get to Ghyaru but they seem to have placed this village above the heavens. Pausing frequently and gasping for breath, we finally reach this town from another age. Ghyaru is very possibly the most interesting village we've seen - full of narrow, winding streets snaking past medieval stone houses, each with colorful prayer flags flapping in a fierce wind. Most dwellings seem just on the brink of collapse, but somehow it all holds up. Interesting religious figures are painted on a stupa. The entire town seems marvelously under-inhabited, almost like the preserved ruins of an ancient city.
High as Ghyaru is, the surrounding mountains rise up like gods above it. Annapurna II (over 26,000 feet) and four other peaks above 22,000 feet can be seen: icy white, snow covered peaks that sometimes send a small (from this distance) snowslide breath down from their vast heights. They seem so close and clear, and yet so vast and infinitely distant.
Leaving town, we pass many interesting mani walls and the ruins of an ancient fort before coming to Ngawal, another charming medieval town. Ngawal has the most interesting prayer wheel shrine I've seen, with several gnarled and twisted trees growing right through it.
We stop for lunch, climbing a steep ladder made from a single log to reach the residential portion of a house/restaurant. The first floor is for animals and firewood. A woman stops nursing her child long enough to make us a tasty tsampa porridge with apples, tea, and one of my trail favorites: garlic soup. A ferocious wind tears at the prayer flags atop almost every building, but we are sheltered from its wrath.
After lunch, we descend, or more accurately plummet from Ngawal. The trail falls so steeply that I suspect we took the wrong route. [Yep, we did.] After soaking our feet in a frigid stream, we realize we are lost. The land turns into desert, with Badlands type formations surrounding sandy soil and scruffy vegetation. We're not lacking a path, there are dozens to choose from! Many dead-end into thin air above landslides.
Passing through a deserted village, we eventually find the main path again. The area leading up to Manang is an interesting mix of wind-blown rock formations, cave splattered hills, white rock desert, wheat fields, and finally a towering snow covered glacier flowing down a mountain.
After a tough day, we settle in at the Manang Guesthouse.
Sept 17. We take a day for altitude acclimatization. We hike back to Braga to see the Gompa there, but it's locked, even though it should be open. Next we go to the HRA office for their lecture on altitude sickness (Sybil's idea) but they are closed until the season starts. Hmm, OK, we just wander around Manang then, happily poking into its narrow streets and courtyards.
Several kids are pushing hoops around with sticks. I thought that game went out with the last century! Men ride small horses with colorful saddles, elaborate nose coverings, and jingling bells. Monks chant solemnly behind closed doors. We visit a small Gompa where we see a huge prayer bell and delightful colored religious paintings.
Sept 18. Although we're both not feeling 100%, we decide to press on. Leaving late (as usual) we climb ever so slowly out of Manang. By 1:30 we've only reached the village of Gunsang. This is the last true village before the pass; after this point we will see only relatively expensive guesthouses set up just for people preparing to cross Thorung La. We stop for a tasty lunch at the Julu West Guesthouse.
Just before reaching a river crossing we encounter a large herd of a few hundred goats and sheep head right towards us! Reminded me of the popular Nepalese game of Bagh Chal ("Goats and Tigers") where the goats try to avoid the tigers (us) while boxing them in so they can't move.
Right now we're at 3900 meters (12,800 ft) and the air is starting to feel thin when we climb. Stopping to catch our breath, I see a rainbow of colors on a mountain, caused by the light and the different layers of vegetation. We stop at Yak Karta, thinking it will be under-populated, with everyone heading to Letdar for the night. I'd heard the Gangapurna Guesthouse had good food. Turns out that almost all of the people we've seen at Pisang and Manang are staying here! Their guides (all of these groups have guides and/or porters) recommended the food there. Good tip - the food is good.
For the past few days I've seen two things I can't understand. One is people bringing firewood down (!) from the direction of the pass. Supposedly, one of the reasons the high altitude guesthouses charge so much is because their wood comes from below (!) Manang. So what's with all this firewood coming down the mountain? The other puzzler is that we often see people carting large rocks around - passing by hundreds of similar rocks along the way! Maybe the Nepalese just don't feel comfortable unless they are lugging a heavy load around?
Sept 19. After a long chat with one of the Gangapurna owners, Maya (who is sharp and runs a good guesthouse), we are out in a cloudy and drizzly morning. As usual we are the last one's to hit the trail.
Passing through alpine meadows, we come to a fork in the path. A sign labeled "Thorung La" points up and away from the river. This doesn't seem right to us as we know we have to cross the river to get to Thorung Phedi. Remember also that we've been misled by signs before. We take the low route. The rain picks up and we cross some recent fallen, tricky landslides while descending to a bridge. Then we have a hard climb (with the altitude) up to a porter's hut.
The hut is filled with porters and they invite us in out of the rain for a cup of tea. These guys are a fun bunch, joking with each other. (Sybil wants to make a documentary about the lives of the porters.) One of them (Chandra) speaks English. He tells us about the different people (castes, etc) in the area. He also says that both of the paths we saw lead to Thorung Phedi. We are on an older route. The other was recently built, probably to avoid the landslide. Leaving the porter's hut we pass many beautiful alpine flowers as we tread a narrow path high above the rapid Jhargeng Khola river.
Although there are two guesthouses at Thorung Phedi, everyone seems to stay at the larger of the two. If this is the better of the two places, then I'd hate to see the other one! Bed prices are ten times that of most of the trail below! Food prices are high as well. The pit toilet there ranks (no pun intended) with some of the worst in Asia. (Wonder what they will do after it soon overflows?) The rooms are drafty freezing. We have little choice though.
So many people hike this circuit too quickly!! All they do is hike, leaving no time to sightsee or chat with locals. Some are going round in only 12-14 days. Besides missing out on a lot of the experience, their haste can be dangerous when approaching the pass without proper acclimatization. A large group of people come in directly from Manang with plans to go over the pass the next day. While this isn't as foolish as the young European guy we met who raced over the pass from Muktinath to Manang (opposite direction) in one day, all sunburned and with a throbbing headache, it is far more prudent to take your time at high altitude. Even though Thorung La is a pass, it is far higher than the mountains in most countries: 5,416 meters or 17,769 feet.
We eat fried potatoes and yak cheese pizza while listening to Bob Marley (strangely popular in Nepal) before retreating to our icy rooms. The Thorung Phedi base Camp Lodge is not a place to spend extra time in!
Next: Part Ten or see Table of Contents