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10/14 Bangkok - Kathmandu
8:35 am Amari Hotel The difference between American and Thai cultures
is nowhere more evident than in the attitudes of the wait staff at the
Amari Cafe where I had an early breakfast. Such open friendliness! Smiles,
coffee filled ongoing, 4 different folks asking if I needed anything.
The familiar taste of Nescafe instant coffee reminding me, as much as
anything, of traveling to and being in Nepal. Many memories. Memories
of trips past and anticipation of what is to come. Sweet chat with Jokhtaphong,
my coffee kid. His surprise that I am traveling alone and have no husband.
Traversing the muggy walkway from the airport to the hotel
last night sparked many images of times past. 12 times before I've
walked that corridor, coming and going, beginning and ending journeys
that have changed my life.
Men in business suits. It is easy to forget that Thailand
is not just beaches and Chiang Mai and a stopover on the way to Nepal.
Bangkok is a modern city in many ways, with a thriving business community.
Ordinary people living ordinary lives. Alongside 14-year-old girls sent
by their village parents to be prostitutes. Just a different version of
the juxtaposition of rich and poor than I see in the States. Same inequality,
different ways of manifesting.
Drinking Nescafe in my room, curtains open, low gray clouds,
a canal, water black and speckled with a sprinkle of raindrops, corrugated
roofs, gray, blue rusted, brown, combinations of all. Then, startlingly
blue and white pointed, ornate temple roof, screaming its presence in
the muted tones of its surroundings. Such contrast to the blandness of
the canal shacks and the concrete of the hotel. Traffic passing over the
canal bridge, reflected in the water. Some kind of banner hanging from
the bridge. Life, moving, flowing, in Bangkok.
6 pm Vaishali Hotel, Kathmandu Completely clear as we flew
into Kathmandu giving us spectacular views of the Himal and foothills,
carpeted in the steeply terraced fields I so associate with Nepal, richly
green from the monsoon rains. Tiny houses here there in the hills south
of the city, increasing in number, becoming clumps, then villages with
the distinctive style that looks like haphazard squares set atop one another,
looking like they will fall over at the slightest breeze or tremor. It
felt like coming home in a way I still don't understand.
Saturday, 10/15, Kathmandu - Pokhara , 5,036 feet
The Cast of Characters
Skip and Elizabeth Horner: our fearless leader and his marvelous wife.
Friends for almost 20 years now, Skip a mentor who changed my life forever.
It is delightful to be with them once again.
Bob Jarman: Fellow traveler from a 1989 Patagonia trek. Bright, witty,
curious about the world, so warmhearted.
Chuck Marting: Currently an NICU nurse with a great passion for and skill
in photography; incredible stories and experiences in his life; a fascinating
travel partner.
Jill: Corporate executive, outside her comfort zone and eager to experience
what is to come; strong; capable; also very bright.
Walking about shooting photographs with Bob and Chuck yesterday:
bright colors, sounds, incense, people, light, kukris (Nepali curved knives),
pashmina shawls, T-shirts, climbing and trekking gear, stupas, temples,
tricycle rickshaws, laughter, many languages, Namaste, beautiful brown-eyed
children; poverty and joy, foreign and familiar. My heart is singing to
be here.
9 pm Base Camp Resort, Pokhara The flight here was simply,
incredibly, mindbogglingly beautiful. Clear, clear day. Ganesh Himal,
the amazing ridge of Himal Chuli (Skip's first attempt at leading
a big expedition, a singular nonsuccess), Annapurna II and IV, Macchupucchare
(so special because of Jonathan's photo), Annapurna South, Dhaulagiri.
Houses by themselves and in villages, dotting the terraced hills, green
on the heels of the monsoon. Sometimes on such steep slopes that the width
of the terrace is less than the height between them. Bright dots of color
- laundry drying in the sun. Exquisite beyond words.
The visible presence of the Nepalese army in Pokhara bears
testament to the turmoil that exists in this country. Many soldiers, barbed
wire atop many walls. Also laughing children on a ferris-wheel-swing-thing
with Skip helping push, a near full moon casting exquisite light on the
mountains, boats on the river, lush green of the trees beyond. And it
is a lovely, clean city. Calmer energy, and the peaks are so right there.
Tomorrow we fly between them and begin walking. Jonathan and Gary both
checked in a good bit today. I love my spirits!
Day 1 Pokhara, 5,036 feet - Jomosom, 8,900 - Eklobhatti,
8,990 -Kagbeni, 9,252
Spectacular flight from Pokhara to Jomosom. Past the Annapurnas with Macchupucchare
in the midst of the Sanctuary, our plane far below the summits, following
the Kali Gandaki River gorge, the deepest gorge in the world, with Annapurna
on the right, Dhaulagiri on the left, a mountain ridge visible through
the cockpit window, with seemingly nowhere to go.
Kagbeni is a village of opposites. Old Kagbeni is drenched
in the atmosphere of ancient:: old gompas (monasteries), narrow, narrow
"streets", dark doorways, little nooks with yak calves peeking
out, firewood on all the roofs, the amount symbolizing prosperity, friendly
people, wonderful chortens (Derived from ancient burial mounds, a chorten
is a spiritual monument usually containing relics of some kind. Chorten
is a Tibetan word, commonly interchanged with stupa, the Sanskrit version.),
sheep skull fetishes above doorways, narrow steep ladders. I could feel
the history in the walls and the air. New Kagbeni wears new wooden doorways
painted in bright colors, its version of a 7-Eleven and YakDonalds with
internet connections. The old and the new clashing together in such odd
juxtaposition.
Kagbeni is the separation point between Upper Mustang and
the rest of Nepal. A sign reminded us, "Nepal is here to change
you; you are not here to change Nepal."
Day 2 Kagbeni, 9,252 feet - Tangbe, 10,039 - Chhusang ,
9777 - Chele (or Chaili), 10,007
I'm lying in my sleeping bag, Ipod playing gentle music, hearing
Skip's voice over and over today saying, "This is an amazing
place!" It's like we're walking into another world,
another era, and in a way we are. We have not seen a single non-Nepali
since we left Kagbeni. 3 1/2 hours of dry and dusty up and down into our
lunch spot in Tangbe. By myself for much of the time. So much peace. Singing
Om Mani Peme Hung, reciting my mantra, one foot in front of the other
in the extraordinary and harsh beauty of this place. Desolate, dry, settlements/villages
only where there is water. Lots of apple trees with delicious fruit. So
hardy to survive here. Up and down and in and out of ravines, from far
above the Kali Gandaki down to its river bed. Old Dzong (fort) ruins above
Tangbe, wonderful multi-pieced big Chorten just as we enter the town of
Chele. Lunch on a rooftop, kids gathering, showing us ammonites from the
river bed, some of which we bought after some spirited and fun bargaining
using Skip's Nepali and many hand signals. The afternoon wind buffeted
us with the dust of the riverbed which combined with sunscreen to create
gritty, streaked faces for us all.
Chhusang folks working with harvested grain, tossing it
into the air, letting the wind separate the chaff. Laughing, chatting,
young boys carrying huge sheaves of whatever the grain was. Laughter between
boys and girls, little ones running around giggling. Just sweet.
Day 3 Chele, 10,007 feet - Samar, 12,008 - Ghiling (or Ghilling
or Geilling or Gelling ) 11,712
5 am. The sound of zippers in the night. So many memories of so many journeys
in so many places are attached to that sound.
Evening. What a day! We were told one pass, 2 hours to lunch,
15 minute walk up to gompa, then lunch, then 4 hours to camp. Reality
a bit different.
A mountain pass is called a La in Nepal. The first pass
(Taklam La, 11,890) was 1,900 feet up right out of Chele; steep, beautiful,
adding a stone to the pile at the top for good karma. Then down almost
as far to lunch. Much harder than I'd anticipated. Gompa two hours
away, not 15 minutes so that didn't happen. Another 1,500 or 2,000
feet up right out of lunch to Dajori La, 12,257 feet. Very steep and gorgeous,
following a fabulous gorge with cliff walls of conglomerate, amazing trail
with stone wall support on downhill side with long, long drop to the river
below. Himalayan Griffon Vulture flying below me, 2 of them above us as
Elizabeth and I stood on the top of the second pass. Amazing views of
Nilgiri and the Grand Barrier that prevented Herzog from seeing Annapurna
until he was right below it so many years ago. I am running out of adjectives
to describe the exquisite appearance and energy of this place.
Then very steep down again, really steep, losing all the
altitude we had gained, having been told by Phurba, our sirdar (head Sherpa),
that it was flat. Having already climbed and descended 3,000+ feet twice,
knowing we had even more altitude to gain before reaching Geiling, not
knowing how the route was. Aware that the expectations of the day were
making me more tired than the actual walking. Continuing lessons about
expectations: they never serve me! Had I paid attention when Phurba said
he had never walked this particular part of the trail before, I would
have paid attention to the map which told the truth about the difficulty
of the day, rather than just assume that what he had been told was accurate.
And up we went one more time on the long and steep trail
out of the gorge. We were all tired and discouraged as we plugged along,
just putting one foot in front of the other, toward the pass we could
see and seemed never to come closer. The last hour I walked with my head
down, paying close attention to the primitive trail under my feet, not
wanting to be more discouraged by the distance between me and the pass.
Suddenly, there was the chorten that signaled the top of Syangboche La
(12,467 feet), surrounded by a herd of goats, opening to a stunning view.
We stood in shadow with a cold wind blowing, watching the surrounding
peaks with their snow-covered crowns still in sunshine. Just magnificent.
I am proud of myself. Sonam, one of our wonderful Nepali
crew, told me I am brave and strong. It was a hard day, probably 4,000+
up and more than 3,000 down, all above 10,000 feet. (When I looked up
the elevation when I got home, it was probably even more than that.) We
are at 11,700 tonight. Dinner was quiet as we are all tired. And the rewards
of the day far outweigh its challenges. I am so very blessed!!!
Day 4 Geiling, 11,712 feet - Nya La, 13,156 - Ghemi (or
Ghemi), 11548 - Takmar (or Drakhmar or Dhakmar), 12,533
Humor at breakfast: If a man says something in the woods and nobody hears
him, is he still wrong? It is a treat to have an equal number of men and
women. So many of trips have been male dominated. I much prefer this balance.
A beautiful walk today. Quick visit to the gompa above Geiling.
Wonderful paintings on the walls, blackened by centuries of smoke from
butter lamps. Again the amazing sense of antiquity.
Long low angle up to the trail leading up to the high Nya
La. The trail switchbacked up alongside a road built by the Nepalese government
all the way to Tibet. What a travesty! Roads do not belong here. I fear
for the access the Chinese now have to Mustang, and I am glad to be here
now, before the road has an even bigger impact on the people here. It
gives them a lower price on rice, and at what cost?
The wind began to blow at lunch, forcing us inside to escape
the blowing dust while we ate. It had spritzed rain early this morning,
and though we had walked in sun in the morning, clearly there was weather
moving in. The wind has blown each afternoon, creating yet again the gritty
mask of sunblock combined with wind-blown dust. This afternoon it was
a cold wind, and we were not unhappy to reach Takmar at 2:30 after a relatively
short day of walking.
This is by far the best campsite we've found. We
entered through a marvelous gateway of stone, down a path bordered by
stonewalls and lined with poplars turning yellow. Above us rise astounding
red cliffs, with wind- created caves etched through out the sandstone,
some of them large enough that we are quite sure they once served as meditation
caves. Several village children peer out whitewashed windows at these
strange foreigners who have appeared in their meadow. Pack ponies rolling
in the grass as they are freed of their loads. Tea and Pringles around
4. Yummy meat momos for dinner. I am full: of good food, of this amazing
place, of gratitude, of peace.
Later. It's snowing now. The storm has come. And
gone by morning, I hope. Time will tell.
Day 5 still Takmar, 12,533 feet
10 am It's been snowing hard since around 5:30 so we are here for
another day. Had hoped to move into a teahouse a half hour up the road,
and apparently it's pretty awful. So we're here. And I made
the careless mistake of putting my pack on my Camelbak nozzle in the tent
so I have a wet tent floor and very wet mattress. And a leaky Thermarest.
I am pretty embarrassed and unwilling to let anyone know. And part of
me wants to tell Panuru so he can just offer me a dry one. Definitely
not appropriate.
I think to put it in the cook tent makes sense, and I don't
want to do that without asking Panuru. So for now I'm in the dining
tent with Bob, enjoying one another's company. We've been
so blessed with the weather up until now, and this is just no fun. I admit
to disliking to camp when everything is wet. A sign of age? And I can
still choose to be grateful to be here. The worst that can happen is I'll
spend a long, wet, cold night. I have enough clothes for it not to be
dangerous. I will not die from being uncomfortable. More than anything,
I am embarrassed and don't want anyone to know. And yet I need
some assistance in drying out the mattress.
8 pm And it's still snowing. Almost a foot at this
point. I am snug in my bag after a delightful day, despite muddy tent
vestibules and the growing bog in the dining tent. It was clearly not
a day to move, so our itinerary has been changed by this extra day here.
Long conversation with Bob in the morning. He is a bright and funny man.
We shared old Aspen memories, talked about life now, relived our 1990
Patagonia trip. A nice reconnection.
Was able to pretty much let the wet pad go until I saw Skip
or Panuru. skip came in for lunch around noon, and I sheepishly told him
what had happened. He came to look at it after the Sherpa had eaten, and
Panuru showed up and took the pad to the cook tent. Then back to the dining
tent with a more relaxed heart, for an afternoon of hearts. Knowing something
is being done about it makes the wet camp much less uncomfortable!
After lunch came an afternoon of hearts with Skip, Bob,
and Chuck. Laughter, good-natured kidding, discussing of strategy, the
thrill of victory and the agony of defeat! With a break every hour to
shake snow off the tents. Lots of snow! It's not supposed to snow
in Nepal in October. And this is Skip's 3rd October Nepal trip
with lots of snow! Hmmmm. Perhaps a change of travel plans in the future!
Went back to my tent to get a hat just before tea time,
and there was my pad dry and even warm. I can't say enough about
the crew, this one and all the others here in Nepal. Mostly Sherpa, they
are cheerful, hard working, wanting to please, looking for ways to make
our trip better. Skip has worked with Panuru several times in the past
and requested him as sirdar for this trip. I understand why. He had not
been to Mustang before and perhaps know the area as well as someone who
had. His infectious laughter and dedication to us more than makes up for
that. Buddha Singh has been here before and acts as our guide, as well
as seeming to be a right hand man to Panuru. Also endlessly cheerful and
always looking for what needs doing.
Phurba, our brilliant and fabulous cook, never ceases to
amaze me with the quality of food he produces in these extremely challenging
conditions. The whole kitchen gets packed up and moved after virtually
every meal, and yet we eat better than in many hotels I've been
in. Just amazing. And again, tirelessly cheerful and eager. The 2 young
cookboys who help him and carry food and dishes back and forth between
the cook tent and the dining tent speak little English. Here in the snow,
with their athletic type cloth jackets and green sneakers, they have to
be wet and cold and yet their smiles and giggles belie any physical discomfort.
Sonam and Prakash are the support team both in camp and
especially while we are walking. It seems to be their assignment to keep
an eye on us during the day and take our packs if we seem tired or help
us in any way they can. Prakash has become Chuck's personal porter,
carrying his camera pack, curiously watching when Chuck shoots photographs.
Prakash is quiet and shy, and his English improves by the day. Sonam is
tireless, cheerfully offering to carry packs, take on heavy items, keep
us company. And the minute we reach camp, everyone dives in full on to
help set up our moving village. This trip would be far less comfortable
and enjoyable without these wonderful men.
Sweet black dog has been around yesterday and today. Barking
at some other dog from right outside my tent. Sound asleep under a tree
this morning, not moving when we went to breakfast. Just kind of hangin'
out. Barking at Chuck's tent as Chuck banged the snow off from
the inside. Skip bent to say hi and pat him on the head. the dog looked
up at him with such admiration. Pure adulation. So very grateful for a
simple pat on the head. Life is hard for the animals in third world countries.
Day 6 Takmar, 12,533 feet - Tsarang (or Charang), 11,680
We awoke to broken clouds and 18 inches of snow. Black dog curled up on
the perimeter of our camp, buried under last night's snow, ears
pricking up as I emerge from my cozy yellow cave into the brightness of
snow-reflected sun. Eventually his head emerges from the blanket of white,
to see what is happening. Do we go? Do we not go? Will it clear? Will
it cloud up again? Those were the questions of the morning, with all of
us looking up at the rapidly moving clouds time and time again as if the
they would tell us what the afternoon would bring. It continued to clear
so we finally packed up and began walking after lunch.
A short day distance wise, made immensely more challenging
- and fun, at least for me - by the foot and a half of snow. All trails
were obliterated by the snow so we set out cross country, following an
old man from the village who said he could lead us to Tsarang. Over hill
and dale (more like mountain and valley!), wet boots, bright sunshine,
good spirits, arriving in a timely fashion to another wonderful Mustang
version of a "hotel" which is really the private home of
a Loba family, expanded to allow room for trekkers.
Chuck and Bob used the benches in our "private"
dining room for sleeping, Jill and I were housed in a wonderful big room
that served the family as a "main" room. It had windows
on two sides, looking out on the fabulous snowy mountains of Mustang,
with built-in benches beneath, upon which we slept. The windowsills were
filled with geranium plants, struggling mightily to survive in this high
altitude, oh-so-dry, soil-with-no-nutrients environment. They are like
the Lobas, the residents of Mustang, who survive against such challenging
odds.
Skip and Elizabeth were not as fortunate in their housing,
as they found themselves in the bottom floor of one of the outbuildings,
dodging drips from the leaky roof and remnants of former non-human occupants.
Jill and I invited them to share our "palace" with them,
and they declined, I believe wanting a bit of rare privacy even if it
meant some discomfort. I so enjoy how they are a couple.
Day 7 Tsarang, 11,680 feet - Lo Monthang, 12,497
We are here! Our goal, Lo Monthang, the capital city of the Kingdom of
Mustang. We have been walking through snow-covered mountains that very
few trekkers see. It usually doesn't snow until the end of November.
Exquisitely beautiful and multiplies greatly the difficulty of the walking.
Conditions we had not anticipated.
We visited the gompa in Tsarang before we left, my heart
singing at the beauty as we climbed the hill on which the gompa sits.
Photos were not allowed inside the gompa so the memories remain in my
head: fabulous mandala on the wall outside depicting all the tortures
of Buddhist hell; collection of sacred texts, volumes bound between intricately
carved covers, stacked in cubbyholes in the walls; Lama with his Gilligan
type sailor hat the same color as his robes; beautiful paintings and statues.
The inside of the gompa brought tears to my eyes. Jonathan, Rob, Gary,
Chantal. Spirits. Om mani peme hung. Guru Rinpoche who brought the dharma
from India to Nepal.
Then the walk. Down, down from Tsarang (of course!) to cross
the Ghyung Khola. then steep up (of course!) to join the Chinese road
which we followed a good bit of the day. I hate that the road is there.
Long, long, long (or so it seemed) walk, just consistently, gradually
uphill to Windy Pass above Lo Monthang. Pack lunch at the base of a big
chorten about midway. Only time we sat from 8 to 3. Very hard work for
me today. Hips tight and sore, sciatic type pain and numbness in the foot
of my right side. Wondering what's up. Finally gave my pack to
Buddha Singh. the Sherpa had offered many times during the previous days
to carry my pack, and I had said no. This time I was the one who asked,
admitting I needed help. Watching my feelings flow from "I'll
be fine tomorrow" to "I'll need a pony." Breathing
myself back into the present, putting one foot in front of the other,
trudging the road of happy destiny. Trudging, indeed! Sloppy uneven footing
because of the snow just made it hard work. And I have the grace of having
done much harder work in the past and knowing that all I need do is put
one foot in front of the other. That I can do.
And that I did, all the way to the Lo La where the first
view of Lo Monthang brought tears to my eyes and celebration to my heart.
So very ancient. My inner horse smelled the barn, and pain or no pain,
I was off. Down, down, down, down. We'll have to go up it when
we leave. Of course. Up and down is the only way to get places in Upper
Mustang. Final small up to this ancient walled city, walking with Buddha
Singh, his pack with cover on his back, mine on his front. Even with the
pain in my hips, I thanked my body for what it was doing for me. Aside
from the hip, my energy was still good when I got here, and I was able
to offer comfort to a fellow traveler who was exhausted and wrung out
from the very long day. Skip hugged us both which I greatly appreciated.
Who comforts the strong? I was able to give to myself what I used to need
from others: the comfort and love that we all need. I am strong out here.
I can celebrate that and myself, with the not-strong parts as well.
Hot juice, noodle, soup which tasted soooo good, unpacking,
then off around town. Walled city, narrow streets, old mud walls, colorful
windows, incredible drainage system, huge piles of snow, This Way sign
so we didn't get lost in the maze that is Lo Monthang, young Karma
with his regular paper business card. Kids, monks, people, man with rake
picking hay out of drainage canal. Karma, our tour guide, invited us to
his house for a small ceremony. We heard quiet chanting as we entered
the lower floor of his home, growing louder as we ascended the half-stairs,
half-ladder leading to the second floor. Several young monks were sitting
on the floor, each chanting a different prayer from prayer books on the
ground in front of them. It was a ceremony for long life that is done
twice a year. It was lovely to see and be a small part of.
As we descended the steep stairs, Elizabeth heard horns
from another house, and she walked into the downstairs. We followed and
peeked up stairs. Clearly there as a ceremony going on, with young Tibetan
girls carrying things back and forth. One of them saw us and waved us
up. Up another steep staircase, passing a fabulous bone and brass butter
churn, into dark typical Tibetan room with about 8 monks, older than in
the first house, one quite elderly, chanting the same prayers, older one
from memory, 2 short horns blowing, a drum and two of te big sets of cymbals,
each monk knowing when to start and stop and start again. Just wonderful.
So blessed to have both happen. The second ceremony, especially, brought
tears to my eyes and a catch in my heart. Just very special
Day 8 Lo Monthang, 12,497 feet
A fabulous day: 3 monasteries, audience with the king, lots of wonderful
very ancient Tibetan artifacts, photos, prayers, monks, children, sheep,
finding our way through narrow alleys filled with melting snow, cold feet,
happy hearts. The weather broke last night. Stars at bedtime, wind picking
up, temperature dropping. Cold wind and bright stars upon arising this
morning. Folks are excited about the prospect of a hot shower, and I have
little interest. Feels like too much trouble, can't wash my hair,
no towel or soap. And the truth is I don't feel dirty. Baby wipes
get what needs to be gotten, clothes are dirty anyway, so what's
the point? One of my secrets is that part of what I love about this kind
of travel is the permission to be dirty!
Only about 10 miles from the Tibetan border, Lo Monthang
has changed little in its structure since the 15th century, and it is
truly like traveling back 600 years to be here. The entire city is surrounded
by 20-foot high walls with watchtowers in each corner, prayer flags everywhere,
dominated by the white central palace and the 3 large red gompas. Such
a sense of ancientness for me. Only the school, police post, and a few
dwellings of "outcasts" lie outside the city walls. The
inner space is packed with more than a hundred houses, the king's
palace, 3 monasteries, with a maze of alleys running between, some so
narrow you almost have to walk sideways. The noble families can have three
stories to their houses, commoners only 2. A book I read before I came
described the town as "a living anachronism." I totally
get it. We were told that the Kingdom of Lo is referred to in a 7th-century
Tibetan history called The Blue Annals, and that its culture was 1,000
years old before Nepal came into existence.
To the gompas first, guided by another Tsewang, who is "sort of
brother" to our friend Tsewang in Tsarang. He is also grandnephew
to the king. His family is the proprietor of our "hotel",
the provider of hot shower, and the owner of a marvelous antiquities shop.
A true entrepreneur in this land of so much poverty. He is very, very
proud to be related to the beloved king Jigme Palbar Bista.
Champa, the first gompa, its entrance guarded by the image
of Mahakala (my personal favorite deity!) is huge, dedicated to "the
Coming Buddha", who is called Maitreya in Sanskrit, Champa in Tibetan.
There is a huge clay figure of him behind the altar - 50 feet tall which
so indicates the size of the whole room. This figure and the superb round
paintings surrounding it are said to be the world's greatest surviving
collection of 15th-century mandalas. Construction on the gompa was begun
in 1412 and completed in 1435. Walls are being restored so the wonderful
paintings show their color again. It's a 5-year project funded
by American Himalayan Foundation who brought an Italian artist in to do
the work and train locals to work with him. 1,000 Buddhas and 21 Taras.
Just exquisite. Again, for me, the sense of connectedness to this heritage.
Sakya Buddhism. Both Panuru and Sonam prostrated themselves three times,
clearly touched to be there. There is a deep heart of sacredness here.
Panuru thinks it's the biggest gompa in Nepal.
Tugchen , the second gompa, is even older, begun in 1387.
Just so very ancient. It is smaller, less impressive than Champa yet its
altar room is one 115 feet long, 65 feet wide, and 30 feet high, as large
as in all but a few Tibetan temples. The room is saturated with spirit
and the Dharma. Statues, paintings, a very old drum. The feeling goes
so far beyond words. Spirit, Buddha, connected, heart, Nature, mountains,
serenity, old. So very ancient.
Chodi, the third gompa is the monastic school with 62 student
monks. It is the smallest of the three, not restored, showing its age
much more. Very active with kids around, building new dormitory, lots
of activity. The young monks curious about us in an indirect way, peeking
around pillars to watch. About 10 of them sitting on the porch of the
main room, chanting prayers together, rocking forward and back as I have
seen so often, every now and then peeking up at us, the foreigners. I
do not feel like a foreigner here. All but 200 of the 1,400 resident of
Lo Monthang go to Pokhara or Kathmandu or India for the winter which is
so very harsh here. The students continue their schooling there.
And then the audience with the king. We bought katas for
50 rupees and tickets for 100 rupees (it's an interesting concept
to buy a ticket for an audience with a king), and Tsewang led us up a
typically very steep set of stairs, down several long corridors, arriving
promptly for our 4:00 audience. The king is an older man, very unassuming,
in tennis shoes and a navy watch cap, fingering his mala beads in a graceful,
rhythmic manner, thumb moving around each bead. His personal secretary
translated for us. We were served a lovely, sweet tea. Panuru and Sonam,
the only two of our crew who accompanied us, so obviously tickled pink
to meet the king.
We asked some questions about the road, his trip to San
Francisco several years ago, how we can help have Lo Monthang made a National
Heritage site by UNESCO. His answer regarding the road was what we've
heard from others: he doesn't like it and it helps the people.
When we had asked Tsewang about it, he was very much against it and clearly
believes that the Chinese have paid off the Nepalese king. Like us, he
believes the road will bring about the ruin of the local culture. It was
built in 2000, and he says that the chinese rakshi (a type of hard liquor)
is already having a big effect, much more drunkenness than when only the
local chang (a type of beer) was available. It sounds similar to the coming
of rum to the Sherpa people. It was a great experience. I felt nervous
like a little girl as we first entered the room. The others also, judging
by body language. Very cool to meet a king!
Vision and memories of Lo Monthang: there are 3 castes:
Bistas (the royal family, Gurungs (commoners), and outcasts (blacksmiths
and a few other professions). Images from yesterday: woman playing harmonica
beneath huge black water tank as we were on town roof, Bob dancing to
her music, as she played, eyeing us, aware we were watching, not wanting
us to know she knew. Karma's daughter, maybe 2, fat teeny little
fingers, like 2 starfishes, clapped together into a baby Namaste. Playing
peek-a-boo from behind the door frame and behind my hands. Tongues sticking
out, giggles.
And so the end of another wonderful day. The snow will prevent
us from walking down the east side of the valley as we had planned. I
am sorry about that, and it also means there's at least a chance
of seeing Looloo here. (Looloo is a dear friend from high school. We knew
we would be in Mustang at the same time, and originally on quite different
itineraries which meant we wouldn't see each other.) That would
be so fun! I hold that vision. And so to bed.
Day 9 - Lo Monthang, 12,497 feet - Garphu, 12,785 - Lo Monthang
What a day! Again! And it almost didn't happen. Skip had mentioned
yesterday the possibility of riding horses up north. It was still cold
and very windy at 8, our first departure time. I had pretty much written
it off, and we went shopping for Tibetan artifacts. Back to our teahouse
about 9:45, and Panuru comes and says Johnny Ho, his version of Let's
Go. i was definitely worried about the cold and asked if we could turn
around earlier if we wanted. Six hours felt way too long. So we all put
on all the clothes we had, walked down the steep hill, across a stream,
up on the ponies, and off we went. My horse (definitely pony-sized) was
a little gray. The "saddle" was some kind of wooden or hard
leather base with several blankets tied on the top for padding and stirrups
that weren't quite even. Surprisingly comfortable. I'm not
sure about the ponies. I had a hard time not feeling sorry for them. It's
as hard a life for them as it is for the people.
We rode full on into the cold wind for a good while, and
I was glad to be wearing all the clothes I had with me. As the sun got
higher, the wind quieted, and I could more appreciate the barren beauty
of the high, dry river valley through which we walked. Panuru and Sonam,
both on horses for the first time, had a great time getting the horses
to trot or canter and hootin' and hollerin' and hangin'
on for dear life. We all laughed a great deal. The "villages"
this far north consist only of a few inhabitants, fewer primitive structures
and small herds of sheep barely surviving on the sparse fodder in this
dry, dry land. With the snow finally melting, the multitude of shades
of tan and beige and ochre and siennas of this part of the world somehow
embody the parched dryness of the land.
Almost a couple hours to Garphu. We are now less than 5
miles from the Tibetan border I think of my journey around Kailas in 1995,
of the genocide that is happening in Tibet, and my concern for the future
of this wonderful Kingdom is great.
Garphu has several fascinating cave monasteries and an incredible
network of cave dwellings, joined by narrow, low corridors and wooden
ladders. We walked up to the main monastery and had lunch in its main
hall, with marvelous views of the valley below. The gompa seems to grow
right out of the cliffs, its red-painted walls delineating it from the
pale cliffs. We walked through the village, with children running after
and around us in laughing curiosity, going from dusty trail to mud, the
last indication of the snow, either slick as ice or sticky as glue, out
to the cave dwellings and up into them. Fabulous. Some of them are simple
small caves, smooth walled, empty now. Others are larger with remnants
of clothing and personal effects still in them. God only knows how long
they have been here. Many centuries. We wandered, bent over under the
low ceilings, peering out the windows and waving at the villagers below
us, looking out over the valley, breathing in the sacredness that lives
in the walls. Here again, I felt an odd sense of connection, of belonging.
Perhaps I have lived in one of these caves in a past life. I don't
know. It is just, somehow, familiar.
The ride back to Lo Monthang seemed shorter, perhaps because
it was so much warmer. Again Panuru and Sonam laughingly trying to get
their horses to go faster. Bob joining is as well. They laugh with great
abandon, like a child does. It's a wonderful sound to hear. And
a great reminder of how much that kind of unbridled joy fills my heart.
Quite simply - another fabulous day.
Day 10 - Lo Monthang, 12,497 feet - Tsarang, 11,680 feet
- Lo Gekar, 12,200 (?)
6 pm. In my cozy tent outside Marang. It's cold! Dinner later than
usual because we're having "rack of goat!" A glorious
walk this morning. Lo Monthang to Tsarang in less than four hours, in
warm sunshine, not difficult conditions for the most part though some
good and slimy mud. I slipped while walking with Jill and Sonam. Almost
a great save and ended up on my butt, fortunately on a grassy spot so
avoided the worst of the mud butt. We all laughed. Again, the infectious
laugh of the Sherpa.
We walked right at Annapurna I, Tilicho and Nilgiri from
the top of the La outside of Lo Monthang. Just gloriously exquisitely
beautiful. All the scenery. Snow melting more each day. Walked by myself
most of the day, singing the Pacific Voices version of Om Mani Peme Hung
aloud and in my head for much of it. Also Great Trees and Prayer for the
Children. I like having that music in my head. Will play some on my Ipod
tonight.
The tent is really cozy now. Sitting in my thermalounger
with feet and legs inside my bag, toasty and warm, Ipod charging, headlamp
lighting the way. I have not enough words to describe the beauty of the
morning. It fills my heart and soul to overflowing just to think about
it.
We had lunch at Tsewang's roof again, this time sunny
and warm rather than windy and cold. He gave us lots of information about
the Lo Gyalpo Jigme foundation and the project they're doing in
Mustang, supported by the American Himalayan Foundation: financing high
school kids, three kids from six different villages down to Jomosom; daycare
centers which provide a safe place for kids to be while moms are working
in the fields and much improved education and health resources; rebuilding
collapsing stupa roofs; smaller repairs in monasteries. Wonderful work.
It is a foundation I will give to.
Short walk up to Marang, maybe 1 1/2 hours, maybe 2, felt
very tired. Legs heavy, arms also, winded, tired. Felt like hard work.
Seems we all felt that way except Skip, of course, and King Bob who is
riding his bay pony, Chhongba, because of his lung infection. Chuck, especially,
struggled this afternoon after being pretty well done in by the big hill
into Tsarang. I have a wonderful photo of him taking a nap in the sun
at lunch. I haven't peed in almost 12 hours, so I imagine dehydration
is a good part of my tiredness. Coughing more today as well after several
days of not much. Drink more, Margo! But that means peeing more - twice
during the night last night, and it's f---ing cold! The price is
harder walking and more coughing and generally harder on the body. The
choice is mine. So drink! Now! Okay!!! I did, and I'll have tea
at dinner. I can pee next to the tent tonight instead of going all the
way to the blue tent. Just got cold again thinking about it! And I'll
be warm again. Hot water bottle will help. Pacific Voices on the Ipod
in a a fabulously beautiful and spiritual part of the world. What's
a little cold! No Looloo today. I think the odds decrease now as we are
on a less traveled track. Oh, well, it would have been fun. It's
in Spirit's hands.
Day 11 - Lo Gekar, 12,200 (?) - Ghar Gompa - Mui La, 13,681
- Takmar, 12,533 - Ghemi (Ghami), 11,548
Cold night last night. Woke with cold spots, several times and still slept
quite well. Able to walk just in cotton pants today. 1/2 hour up to Ghar
Gompa, the most amazing one yet: built in the late 700's. Small,
dark, mystical. Life sized statue of Guru Rinpoche, Padmasambhava, who
brought the Dharma from Tibet (check this), two other statues, "unimportant"
according to Sonam, on either side. Beautiful. In inner room all figures
on the walls are Makahala. So fierce. A big one on left hand wall, just
mesmerizing. It's almost as if Padmasambhava brought the dharma
here and shook his finger saying, "you better get it right."
Opening on right side where ancient lamas ashes are buried.
Also a very fierce Makahala along with two figures, one on a yak and one
on a horse. So beautiful and so ancient. Just amazing. Outer room walls
were all blue-haired Buddhas. A cylinder made of snow leopard skin hangs
to the right of the second door to ward off demons. And all with the mystical
feeling of centuries and generations of history. Just F---ing amazing.
Big up above the gompa. Steep only in places, just consistently
up. Skip and Elizabeth and others saw what they think were snow leopard
tracks on the way up. I believe I saw them, too. And dismissed them as
a dog. But what I saw were dog prints. They belonged to a cat of some
kind. I just didn't dare believe it was a snow leopard. Now I choose
to believe it was. Very steep down into Upper Takmar. Cut into a sort
of ravine in the rock which the trail followed. Understand why going up
it in the snow would have ben impossible. Part way down I stopped to look
back up and saw 1, then 2, then 3 lammergeiers soaring on the thermals.
So huge, and their wings never moved. Just riding the air and its thermals,
playing soaring, then sweeping over the la to disappear form my sight.
I hope the others behind me saw them as well.
Down to lower Takmar where we expected to have lunch but
the kitchen crew had gone on to Ghami. So we trudged around and down and
up once again to Raju's roof. A 4 1/2 hour morning. And I still
felt pretty good. Very hungry. I heard Panuru tell Skip that it's
a 3-hour walk to tonight's camp, and Skip said, "Not possible."
I was not unhappy, and it will make for 3 long days if we are to get to
Muktinath. Chuck has decided to ride. Skip says my pace is fine to do
the long days, and I am proud of that. my only concerns are my sore hip
and the new neuroma pain in my left foot. I am coughing a fair amount
and feel fine. No sickness, just the respiratory irritation that is so
familiar at altitude and very manageable.
We're camped in a field only a few minutes outside
Ghami. Another beautiful spot, surrounded by mountains and red and gray
and beige hills. Wonderful to see the red cliffs of Takmar once again.
So different from when we left six days ago, then coated in white, walking
through more than a foot and a half of snow. Today that rich red, only
occasionally brushed with a veneer of white. About an hour to Ghami, not
so bad.
Partly cloudy today. Gloves on, then off, then on, then
off. Bandanna to keep the sweat out of my eyes for uphill, removing it
for downhill in an attempt to ge rid of the white stripe it leaves on
my forehead. Soup ready...
8:10 Not quite tucked in. I'll need to pee soon.
Nice camaraderie at dinner. I do enjoy listening to the stories, with
less need to tell my own. Sounds like it will be a long day tomorrow.
I can put one foot in front of the other for as long as I need to. What
an incredible gift this trip is. I love walking alone most of the time.
It's a meditation for me. The Go Mod Mantra, photos, breathing,
stopping to look around, connecting with Spirit, at my own pace. I am
blessed.
Day 12 - Ghami, 11,548 feet - Nya La, 13,156 - Tamagaon,
12,172 - Samar, 12,008
Looloo Day! It happened! And Leelee Bonney, Jill Uris and Mary Jo Kimbrough
were with her. Such fun to run into four folks I know way out here.
Gorgeous morning and cold til the sun hit. Frost on the
tents. I pretty much gave up seeing Looloo last night. Figured they'd
be above us by now. Then I dreamed about her. Still figured it couldn't
happen. We started walking early, about 7:30 because we knew we had a
big day. Clear blue sky, pony bells jingling as they are fed. Chuck and
bob both riding horses. Long up out of camp. About 500 meters to the Nya
La, then down 300 to lunch at Tamagaon.
Just past Chhunggar (or Chyunka), the last village before
Tamagaon, I had a chat with a Nepali who, like many, asked where I was
from. When I said America, he told me he was with a group of four women
from America. I asked what their names were, and he didn't know.
I asked if they were giving jackets to children, and he said yes so I
knew it was Leelee's gang. He was their cook and said they were
about 1/2 hour behind. I hooted loudly and raced down the trail. So excited
that I would see her. In this place that was so special to Jonathan. And
she'd finally meet Skip, after hearing about him for all these
years. I couldn't contain my joy and giggled out loud as I walked as fast
as my lungs would allow.
I saw Jill Uris and Mary Jo first. Totally didn't
recognize either one as I'd forgotten or didn't know they
were on the trip. Then Leelee Bonney. Then I spotted Looloo, and as I
had envisioned it so many times, I hollered "Looloo!!!"
and she hollered back, "Migger!" All 4 were excited to see
me, as was I them. We took a photo of me and the two Leelee's for
the Garrison Alumnae Bulletin (we all went to the same boarding school).
Then one of Looloo and me for posterity. Then Skip and Elizabeth introductions.
So very much joy to have these three people who have been so very important
in my life meet one another. My smile threatened to jump off my face,
and my heart was just having a party in my chest.
Leelee's team had been stuck in Pokhara for 3 1/2
days with no flights to Jomosom because of the weather that had produced
all the snow up here. Finally got out on an old Russian helicopter. They're
pushing hard to get to Lo Monthang at all and will most likely have only
half a day there. Such fun to make the connection. It added a shining
spot to a day already filled with brightness. I practically ran all the
way to Tamagaon. I was very jazzed. Perfect timing, perfect weather, perfect
time of the day, Skip and Elizabeth not far behind. Thank you God!!!
The remainder of the day was about up and down, up and down,
up and down: Syangboche La, 12,631, Yamda La, 12,554, Baga La, 13,123,
Bhena La, 12,592. Even more so than usual. Not giant ones like the morning.
We stayed fairly high, weaving in and out and up and down with the terrain
the kholas. Some very steep downs to rivers, usually less steep ups. The
Baga La, the highest of the four passes we crossed in the afternoon, was
festooned with many, many khatas (prayer scarves) as well as prayer flags.
Just wonderful. The down to the river just before Samar was long and steep.
I was glad I had spotted the tents before I hit the main part of it. Camp
is in fields just below Samar, and some disgruntled locals came to tell
us to move into town They were not very nice about it, and there was a
great hubbub. All worked out in the end but Elizabeth said that one of
the local men peed right next to their tent, not interrupting even when
she shined her headlamp on him. I heard the story after the fact and am
glad I was in my tent with my Ipod on during most of it. It's the
first locals we've come across who haven't been friendly.
Another spectacular day! Coughing hard at times and still
feeling really good. I am hugely grateful!
Day 13 - Samar, 12,008 feet - Tangbe, 10,039 - Kagbeni,
9,219
Long day. Certainly the most miles we've done in a day. Huge down
from Samar to the bridge below Chele. Around 2,100 feet, much of it on
a trail with a drop-off of many hundreds of feet to the river below. There
were places that were washed out or had slides through the trail from
the storm that made it uneasy walking. Narrow, slippery. It was somehow
like walking forward in time, from ancient to present, to cross the blue
bridge. A marking of passage from Upper to Lower Mustang. Just as walking
up it on our way in had been a walk back in time. Less dangerous then,
though, without the mud and snow.
About 3 1/2 hours to Tangbe then another 3 3/4 of the steep
and big ups and downs of the trail above the Khali Gandaki into Kagbeni.
We had hoped to walk much of the way in the river bed but the high water
from the storm made it impossible. So big ups and downs, and ups and downs,
and ups and downs. The nature of so much of Nepal! Even bigger than I
had remembered form the way up. I think Jill was not far off the mark
with her guess of a couple thousand feet up and as much down when you
added it all together. And many miles. Maybe 15 kilometers, which would
be nine miles, a lot with all the vertical. Such a different perspective
here. 9 miles on the flat is a reasonably short day, here it is quite
different!
Places in the trail below Tangbe that were badly washed
out making very, very narrow or very, very steep passages. Some I couldn't
imagine the ponies navigating. And they did. Very hot at lunch so the
headwind of the afternoon, not strong, just enough to soften the heat,
was welcome. Arrived about 4:15 after the final very steep drop. Help
from a Nepali with route finding toward the end of the day as Jill and
I had lost sight of the others and weren't sure which routes were
passable and which weren't because of the high water. He saved
us about a thousand feet of up and down!
We are sharing a courtyard with stack of freshly harvested
barley. They were threshing when we arrived, four men with long sticks
beating a pile in a rhythmical, circular pattern. Trekkers in the lodge
where we ate dinner telling stories of 6 feet of snow in Manang, on the
other side of Thorong La. 14 people, French trekkers and porters, killed
in an avalanche just east of Manage. We were very fortunate with our 18
inches.
Up to Muktinath tomorrow. Not steep, I hear, and close to
3,000 feet. I have little memory of walking down the same path in 1989
on the Annapurna Circuit. Panuru estimates four hours. We shall see. Lunch
there. Big day in a different way. My legs are much stronger with some
definition returning. I like that. Another wonderful day, despite its
length and my negative thinking for a bit below Tangbe. I'm so
grateful to not get stuck in those places. Thank you Spirit!
Day 14 - Kagbeni, 9,219 feet - Muktinath (Chumig Gyatsa),
12,300 feet
Dead asleep when bed tea came this morning after a night of much coughing.
Good sleep in between. Probably 8 times waking myself up with coughing
or the funny, wheezy sound I get when I exhale. Pretty good walking and
active cough again when I stop. It's just what I do up here. I
have no sense that I am ill.
Woke up tired and not tired enough to get a horse. Just
bistari, bistari - poli, poli - slowly, slowly, with absolutely no need
to hurry. By myself the first hour or so, shooting a few photographs,
then just putting one heavy-legged foot in front of the other. Many Europeans
coming down, finishing up their Annapurna Circuit trek, most not very
friendly. Gorgeous sunny day. Close to hot and not quite. Very, very muddy
in places. Chatting with Elizabeth for a while, both of us disappointed
in the power lines and the many people - almost no Americans - walking
down, many of them not even answering our Good Morning's. Such
different energy from Upper Mustang, as we knew it would be. Still somewhat
disheartening.
Followed the ponies for a bit, then had a chat with a woman
named Sarah from outside Sacramento. She said she'd seen very few
Americans on the Circuit. We seem to have been scared away by the State
Department's cautions about the Maoists. There seems to have been
little trouble with them on the Circuit. I've heard some talk about
some Army presence, and it's all rumor. At any rate, after Sarah,
just slowly onward. Romeo and Juliet Hotel about 1/2 way. Brought a smile
to my face. I don't know where the names of teahouses come from!
Several villages, lots and lots of mud, just plugging away bistari. Just
a tad over 4 hours, even with the chat with Sarah. More than 3,000 vertical
feet, a good sign that although tired, I am fit. It didn't seem
like that much vertical.
We are camped in a field high in the town. The Sherpa cleared spots of
snow away for sleeping and dining tents as there is still much melting
snow on the ground. It's a great spot, with exquisite views up
to the Thorong La and down toward the river. So much better than being
in a teahouse. Lunch al fresco, with a visit from a sweet female dog who
we coaxed closer with Spam and cheese. So thin and clearly beaten. It
took her a while to get that my putting my hand out did not mean I would
hit her. Ate everything I gave her and looked for more. When we came down
from the eternal flame, walking slowly through town, she recognized me
and trotted over, tail wagging gaily in a circle. Today may be the only
real kindness she gets in her life. The hard life for both animals and
people.
Lovely nap after lunch in my tent, open to the sun. Body
decidedly tired. Up to the Gompa/Temple/Eternal Flame around 2:30. The
uphill of it was just hard. My legs are sore tonight. The site, a very
holy Hindu place, is now "managed" by Buddhist nuns "to
promote spiritual harmony." It's a wonderful example of
how two great religions can share a very holy place with mutual respect
and support. A lesson for all of our planet!
They've done a good job with it. 108 fountains, bulls
heads, many bells and prayers wheels, prayer flags. And the eternal flame:
Sale Mebar (burning soil) which has burned for centuries from a somewhat
mysterious source of natural gas. We saw only one flame, and I am told
that there are two others: Do Mebar (burning stone) and Kla Mebar (burning
water). There are many trees growing around the shrine, most unusual at
this 12,300 elevation, which is said to be another sign of the holiness
of this place. It is a fascinating place which I will read more about
when I get home. The trip up here was well worthwhile.
Got called to dinner, and the propane fumes were really
bad. Panuru "fixed" it and said it would be fine. It wasn't,
and I have been well and truly zapped. Coughing worse but also in the
emotional way that happens with many chemicals. I stayed longer than was
in my best interest cuz I didn't want to be different than. I'm
paying the price now. And getting better as I breathe the fresh air. Tears
come. Harder to say in my Higher Self. Not how I wanted tonight to be.
And I don't want to add feeling miserable to not feeling well.
No, it's not what I wanted. And it is what is. The internal kids
are afraid they'll forget all about me. They won't. They're
kind people. I am liked on this trip. I can rock the little ones and let
them know they are loved, completely and unconditionally. We all are.
Again, thank you Spirit for my knowing I don't have to choose the
drama. All it is is a chemical allergy. It doesn't make me weird
or separate from. It just is. I have jerky and M&M's. I am
fabulous!
Day 15 - Muktinath, 12,300 feet - Eklobhatti, 8,990 - Jomosom,
8,900
About 3 hours down;, leisurely. Cold, cold this morning. Coldest night
of tent camping;coldest night except for Lo Monthang when we were inside.
Cold enough that my feet ached in the damp boots when I started walking.
Last night Jill brought me dinner - very kind of her. I ate maybe 1/3
of it and put the plate outside. She'd also brought me a Fanta
so I did get my wish of Fanta in bed. About 20 minutes later I heard the
rattle of silverware on a plate and called out Donyabhat (thank you),
thinking a cook boy had come to take it. But I heard it again about 30
seconds later. Peeked out, and there was our black and tan 4-legged friend
cleaning my plate. I was delighted. Such a sweetie. I'm glad to
give her a bit of happiness and nourishment.
The walk down to Eklobhatti was quite pleasant. Chatted
with Phurba, our cook, for a while. He's 40, with 4 kids, lives
in Solu Khumbu. He's done a fabulous job for us, producing astoundingly
tasty and varied meals cooking in a tent with propane stoves or in strange
kitchens, sometimes in very challenging conditions. Pizza, really good
cole slaw, potatoes cooked in a number of yummy ways, popcorn, always
soup for dinner that warmed hands and insides chilled from the walk from
tents to kitchen. His cook boys have been great as well. Smiling, in the
worst of conditions, as they brought us food, walking in the snow in sneakers;
getting us up with the always cheerful, "Good morning, tea, coffee?"
Ah, the smell of Nescafe in the morning!
I celebrated with a little dance when I hit the warmth of
the sun this morning. Phurba laughed behind me. Missed most of the bad
mud cuz the cold temps had frozen it. Made the walk much less sloppy than
yesterday.
Off into the wind of the Kali Gandaki after lunch. This
I do remember from 1989! Here's a description from then, "
Stiff wind - 30-40. On a river bed for what seemed like days. Lawrence
of Arabia music playing in my head. Looooong. Sand blowing, rocky footing,
I was not having a good time." Not so hard today, just one foot
at a time on the river bed, against the wind, blowing dirt sticking to
the sunscreen as it had on the way up. (When I read the 1989 journal entry
when I returned home, I was aware of the difference in how I experienced
what, in essence, were the same conditions. Much more tolerant and positive
now, 17 years later, than then. I am grateful for that.)
We had heard blasting at lunch and been told they are building
a road. One that will meet up with the Chinese road eventually so there
will be a "road" - and it is a road only in a very loose
sense - all the way from Pokhara to Tibet. Yuck. As we were walking, a
Nepali guy sort of ran by us waving his arms around. We wondered what
all his excitement was about, and then Panuru came by and waved us out
further into the river bed, away from the cliff face above it. Turned
out they were getting ready to blast again. So we hurried along and about
a half mile later, heard a blast, turned around and watched a whole set
of charges go off like dusty fireworks high above the river floor. 15
or 20 of them. I hated it!!! I hate that they're building a road.
Sonam is in favor of it, saying it will improve trade. When I voiced my
concern about the Chinese taking over the way they have in Tibet, he said
that will not happen here in Nepal. I pray he is right, and I fear he
is not. The remainder of the walk, less than 2 hours after lunch was gustily
uneventful. Consistent wind in the face, just head down and go until we
reached Kagbeni.
I am tucked into bed in Room 102 at the German Bakery in
Jomosom. Will sleep under my bag tonight rather than in it. My knees can
go where they want. Yippee! The timing is perfect. I am ready to go. It
has been a very special trip, even with all the traveling I've
done. The sense of being in a different century or even millennium was
extraordinary. Spiritual, ancient wisdom and footprints and gompas and
stupas. So many spirits about me. The Crew. Much to sink in and settle.
Part of what travel time is for. We fly to Pokhara then Kathmandu, leaving
very early tomorrow morning.
Day 16 - Jomosom - Pokhara - Kathmandu
Up at 5 to catch an early flight to Pokhara which turned out to be not
so early. Hurry up and wait, a favorite Nepal sport. Then a flight to
Kathmandu only an hour after arriving. Showers, reorganizing, unpacking,
repacking in the afternoon and a final dinner together. Everyone looks
so different than when we arrived. Tanner, thinner, a bit more haggard
perhaps, definitely tired. And content, filled up in some way, eyes mirroring
the extraordinary experience we have shared.
Tuesday, 11/1 - Kathmandu - Bangkok
Somehow it's fitting that the month changes today, as the journey
home begins. It is the last morning. Walking the streets once again with
Chuck, this time without my camera. Watching, listening, breathing in
the sounds and smells, strange words. Sweeping, pouring water, cleaning
the stores, the stoops. Festival day to celebrate Lakshmi, goddess of
wealth, part of a 5-day festival.
Yesterday was the one day of the year that dogs are honored
rather than kicked around. They had red spots and marigolds. Today they
are ignored and kicked once again. The city fascinates me. With all that
it also makes me uncomfortable, it has a magnetism and familiarity for
me as well. There is something about Nepal that still feels like home.
The Saddhus wanting to bless us with red flour and marigolds - for baksheesh
(money). The bargaining, the begging, the saying no, keeping beggars hands
off me - that is the part that's the hardest for me. Dealing with
aggressive beggars, people who grab hold of me, follow me. And I'm
getting better, holding my own space more strongly. I so remember how
completely uncomfortable I was in India in 1989, the first time I encountered
this kind of behavior.
It is bittersweet to leave. I am ready to go, and also sad.
It's exactly perfect. Beautiful, crisp morning light on the streets
this morning, much of the stoops shiny with water, broomswept. Glad to
end as I began, walking with Chuck. Thank you, God, Goddess, Spirit, Grandfather,
Grandmother. I am blessed.
8 pm Amari Hotel, Bangkok It's getting more "normal."
Closer to home. Closer to western, to the familiar. Had a nice conversation
with Pascal, owner of a small adventure travel company out of Montreal.
He just led a kora around Kailas, going up from Simikot like we did in
1995. He gets the spiritual part of it and has been to Mustang. We spoke
about the ancient energy. He gets it. It's always great to talk
with people who get it.
The goodbyes were only a bit teary. More about the experience
than the people in a way. I'm ready to be done with the people,
not these people in particular, just people in general. Ready to have
a meal by myself, spend time without being "on." It was
the perfect length trip. Such fondness for these delightful interesting
and somewhat quirky folks. Each of us with our own story and history and
interests and strength and challenges. Bob is bright and interesting,
keeper of fascinating facts and stories. Chuck is bright, eclectic, has
lived an extraordinarily diverse life and is a great story teller. Jill
is a gutsy woman, also bright, determined, and a warrior woman like me.
Skip and Elizabeth, as always, are quite simply delightful. I share so
much history with them now that it is simply being with good friends.
In very exotic places!
Home tomorrow. It feels good to write that. I am looking
forward to being home. Much more so than I used to when I was traveling
in the past. I love Santa Cruz, love my home, love my cat, love my life.
This kind of adventure travel is something I adore and will do as long
as I am able. And at 57, home holds much more appeal than in the past.
That is a good thing.
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