Finally Doing What People Usually Do When They Visit Nepal

As the equivalent of the Nepali Christmas break came upon us Kristen and I set out on our first trek. We did not have a lot of time, as other commitments restricted us, typical of any holiday season. My complaints of too much bus time were put to the side and the extra rides proved to be far above average. While an actual bus ride would have been a terrifying nightmare, due to the road and excessive crowding, we stumbled into a jeep ride on the way up and an empty micro van on the way back. Both were at a reasonable price I may add. The only bad part about the ride to our trekking departure town was the crushing pain in my hand as we went over a massive landslide. Wondering what was going on, I looked down to realize that it Kristen clutching it like a freshman girl whose boyfriend snuck her into a midnight showing of Saw. Despite the momentary feeling of impending doom, we arrived safely in Syabrubesi (don’t worry we can never say it right either).

Kristen and I kept a joint journal each day on the trail, and from here I will simply share those. First here are some things to keep in mind while reading.

-It is long don’t hurt yourself trying to finish in one sitting!

-Kristen and I both wrote in this, so the perspective changes a lot, sometimes in the middle of an entry. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure but be forewarned.

-I typed most of it straight out of our journal and did very little proofreading so don’t be appalled at the spelling and punctuation mistakes.

Anyway here you go:

Monday, Oct 7

Pre-trek- After the news that all busses were full that go to Syabrubesi, wer were solicited to share a jeep with some Chezks and Germans. The 117km ride took 8 hours, including a tense 20 minutes across an active landslide. We arrived in Syabrubesi and got a room at one of the smaller hotels in town. The owner/operator was a sweet elderly Tibetan woman. Talking to her she asked if we had ever been to Tibet, or were going.  Kristen did no more than say “It’s difficult to get a Chinese visa.”, to make the otherwise smiling cheerful face to turn to a sour glare. She said she evacuated Tibet when she was 6 years old during the Chinese invasion in 1959.

Tuesday, Oct 8

Day one- We set out on the trail at about 8AM and quickly passed any groups that had started ahead of us. Our first rest gave the shocking realization that dal baht was going to be 400rs and that we were going to have to re-budget. At the advice of a guide we went an hour and a half past where the travel book recommends, and where the rest of the parade of trekkers behind us would stay. Woodland Lodge was nice and saved us a little money as we managed to get a free room with the agreement we would by our overpriced food for the duration from their kitchen. The only other guest at the lodge was a smiley traveler from Seattle named J.P. with whom we discussed the subtleties of what success and happiness means in life.

Wednesday, Oct 9

 We left Woodland at about 7:30 with no specific destination in mind. Langtang village was about 2 hours and 400 meters vertical above Woodland. Leaving early and ahead of the mass behind us made us the only white people heading in our direction. 30 min into the hike, after a question about our last 3 vice Presidents in a cage match to the death, we broke out of timber into alpine country at about 9,500 feet. Peaks without snow towered on both sides of us. The highest forest bore a striking resemblance to the Pacific Northwest and in the alpine country immediately after, I could have convinced myself that I was hiking in East Rosebud or Glacier National Park. Before reaching Langtang we passed an army check post and various shops, where we received our education on the business model of the Langtang Valley. The name of the game is to funnel tourists from your tea shop to the family shop further on the trail. This was used to our advantage as a recommendation came with a free room and food discounts.

Rather than pushing up to Kyangin Gumba like we felt capable of, we stayed in Langtang. We had received a recommendation and a bundle of vegetables from a man at a teashop down the hill to take to Happy Home Guest House in Langtang and receive 250rs dal bhat in exchange. The promise of cheap khanna was not realized in full; we settled for 300rs dal bhat and a free room. After filling our bellies under a blue sky of sunshine our motivation to continue the journey to the Gumba quickly dissolved. We napped and stayed the night in Langtang. Being the only guests that night at Happy Home and arriving earlier than all the rest of the trekkers, we enjoyed some privacy and conversation. Because we are not often in proximity to others, when confronted with the possibility of conversation with Westerners, both Thor and I find difficulty passing up a chat session. But on this day, we relaxed in the courtyard alone together.

After a very satisfying nap we made for the local cheese factory. To our surprise and delight we found not only fresh yak cheese but also freshly baked bread (and it wasn’t white bread), and French press organic coffee. By the end of the trek we would stop there 3 times.

We also enjoyed watching the hordes of tourists struggling into the village hours after our arrival and congratulation ourselves on our foresight to pack lightly.

Thursday Oct,10

We rose early Thursday morning in time to enjoy a French press at the cheese factory and still hit the trail before the masses. We met 2 rather effeminate Dutch guys at the factory sipped coffee and chatted. We started our short walk to Kyangin at about 7AM under bluebell skies. As we strolled gradually upwards and around the bend, towering snowcaps loomed spectacularly above us, their grandeur increasing with our every step. Mani stone walls divided the path, cutting a dashed line between the upward bound and the returners. We stayed on the left hand side, as per religious tradition and paused from time to time to admire the prayerful mantras etched into the ancient stones, many of which had been blanketed by white and orange lichen or had been there long enough that the prayer writing had worn away till the stone was nearly smooth.

A white stupa, sides painted with red, orange, yellow and blue mantras, welcomed us into the holy site and offered us picturesque views of Langtang II and Langtang Lirung draped in colorful prayer flags. We rounded a hill into the valley, which cupped a small village dotted with lodges and free range yaks. The valley is named after Kyangin Gumba a 400 year old Buddhist monastery that still operates in the imposing shadow of Lirung and Yubra Himal. A lodge hosts many visitors just adjacent to the Gumba, and due to its prime location unparalleled views and a discount I managed with the landlady. We settled there for the duration of our stay. Although we got the room free of charge the food was once again overpriced and subpar. It seems as though, every cook in the Langtang Valley works from the same recipe. Despite the bland dal baht, we eagerly devoured our lunch, dropped our gear in the room and hurriedly set off to a lookout point 500m above us, racing the foreboding cirrus to the top. After a grueling hour long climb over a well-worn trail with loose footing, we reached our destination just as a cloud bank poured over the Ganja La Pass on the far side of the valley. The exposure unnerved me, as my inner ears struggled to compensate for the lack of reassuring visual cues. The viewpoint, composed of a rocky precipice, magnified the ubiquitous 20,000ft+ peaks. Carefully stepping over fallen strands of prayer flags, we settled in a secure spot to snack snap photos gaze out at the majesty surrounding us. Four glaciers, three lakes and tumultuous plummeting streams 1,000 feet below multiplied one others beauty.

The way down took nearly as long as the ascent due to Kristen’s’ near vertigo. I had to ask very politely for her to stop skidding down the trail on her rump. Upon return to the gumba/hotel we were informed that I had forgotten to shut and lock the door to our room. Fortunately, the trustworthy Tibetan landlady had closed it for us and all our stuff was as it should be.

Crazy eyes somewhere along the trail.
Notice there is only one Chum strap, broken glasses.

After our brief adventure, I washed our smelly clothes while Thor practiced some yoga inside the monastery. We then departed once again for a stroll around the village. We paused for coffee and a game of chess at a bakery where we were tipped off on the next days activity by eavesdropping on a pair of very tall, middle –aged, persnickety German fellows. We hoped that our hike had prepared us for the following days climb up Chergo Ri. We returned to the gumba for supper, settling into the woodstove heated dining hall, filled with gin rummy playing scots, and excitable French women chattering about their future trekking plans. After another round of hum-drum dal bhat, we retired to our frigid room, blankets in hand.

Friday, Oct 11

Although the bed was very comfortable and we were plenty warm under the blanket and sleeping bag neither the cold air, or something in the room plugged our noses and turned us into mouth breathers. I had very strange dreams about challenging an autocratic principal when I was in high school. Despite our lethargy we dutifully rose to eat breakfast at 6:30. We lazily procrastinated, questioning the weather for a while but realized that if we were going to go it had to be now. Mustering our strength and will power we departed on our attempt at Chergo Ri 4,984m (roughly 16,300ft)

 We struck out at 8Am and as we progressed we became increasingly satisfied that we had made the decision to climb it, as the weather cleared and the low clouds were swept away by blue skies. We also quickly realized that we were making considerably faster progress than the poorly conditioned parties who left ahead of us. On the trail we passed a group of older Japanese men, to young French girls, and elderly lady lying in the grass with a guide, and a large group of middle aged French people decked out in all the best trekking gear. Only one group summited ahead of us, a worthy feat considering that we left 2 hours after some of the groups.

The view from the top was breathtaking (no pun intended). We rested at the top for 30-45 minutes and began the descent. This was tougher for us than the way up. We both swore that we would bring trekking poles back after Christmas in an effort to save our knees. Despite our grueling pace to the top we went the same speed downhill as the rest of the trekkers, who had poles for extra support.

Upon returning to Kyangin Gumba we again took respite in the local coffee shop and enjoyed percolated coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a slice of cold apple pie. We then returned to the lodge and at long last rested. The afternoon and evening were pleasant and we chatted with a Swiss Buddhist, and some teacher trainers from Poland and Scotland. In preparation for the long day out the next day we retired early for another night of plugged noses.

Saturday, Oct 12

Our plan was to be in Kathmandu by the evening of the 13^th. In order to make that happen we needed to make it a considerable distance, one that took us all of 2 ½ days on the way up, today. We did everything within our power and rested not but 45 minutes all day. Our speed was very quick until we were about an hour’s walk from the intended, Bamboo where there are 3 lodges. Just as the steepest part of the descent began Kristen’s knees began to ache. I could not believe mine did not but I was spared achy knees until the next day. Our pace slowed but we were determined and we made Bamboo at around 5:30.

 This is where our plan deviated slightly. We intended to go to bed early again so that we could rise around 5:00 and make the 2 ½ hours to Syabrubesi by the time the last bus left at 8AM. A fine plan until we met Thomas. Thomas we found out grew up in Pennsyltucky, went to college in San Diego and now has a wife and 2 acupuncture practices in Kathmandu. Very intriguing fella. We chatted over dinner and decided that a pitcher of raksi was called for on the occasion of meeting such fine company. After 2 pitchers of raksi, 2 pitchers of chyang (another kind of rice brew), several Chinese medicine checkups of the locals and myself, and a local cultural dance by a drunken mountain guide we finally made our way to bed. The guide had been talking of the Ganja La Pass that we had seen from below at Kyanjin Gompa. He seemed to think that it was doable without ropes, at this time of year and the idea caught both Thomas’ and my attention. From Ganja La it is a 3 day walk to Kathmandu and we had already shared our dissatisfaction with the Nepali transportation system. Thomas had most of the necessary gear including a tent. I on the other hand would need to acquire some provisions. A plan was made that I would go down to Syabrubesi with Kristen and if I could acquire the appropriate supplies would hoof it back up the trail to catch up and we would make an attempt at the mysterious Ganja La. I went to sleep with dreams of an epic crossing of the storied pass dancing in my head.

Sunday Oct, 13

As is natural after a night of plans made on the sauce, some doubt had crept into my head by the time I awoke. Some soreness and a stomach ache had also turned up by morning. Before setting out Thomas and I, to Kristen’s satisfaction acknowledged that the plan would likely not work out, but if I could find the provisions and felt fresh enough I would call him to inform him that I was on his tail. Needless to say this did not happen. Syabrubesi is not exactly an outfitting town and the moment we arrived on the main drag rain began to fall.

All I wanted to do was sleep, but Kristen was insistent on trying to find a jeep and people to share it with back to Kathmandu, today. After about an hour of searching and explaining our situation to the locals, we gave up and retired to a room at the Cheerful Tibetan woman’s hotel. I fell asleep instantly and the next thing I knew it was 3 hours later and the woman was knocking at our door and saying something about a car she had arranged for us. It wasn’t a dream but close to it. We came outside to find a micro van completely empty waiting for us. The drivers wanted to get back to Kathmandu and their family for the holiday and agreed to take us the whole way for 2000 rupees, a steal. After pushing the van up a couple of muddy hills on the landslide we safely found ourselves in Kathmandu and checked into our hotel at 8PM.

Post trek

A lazy day of rest in the tourist district indulging in the few western amenities available there took up our Sunday. On Monday we went to Sapana’s house to stay the night and celebrate the holiday of Deshain with her family. We received our customary big red dots on our forehead (called tika) and I ate a lot of goat meat. Kristen later rued this fact as the aroma mysteriously kept returning the next day, nearly the same as when it had been cooked. We both held the month old baby for a while that day and the next. He pooped on Kristen twice and fell asleep in my arms.

Please comment and add a caption. Someone besides my mother.
(I love you mom, you can comment too)

The next morning we found our way back to Besisahar on four different bus legs. On the longest leg we got to ride on top of the bus, because the laws against it loosen during the holidays, the bus was full, and no Nepali will refuse a chance to take a few bucks off of a foreigner. It was not too scary and in fact did not feel any more dangerous than riding on the inside. We did get a rush when the conductor told us to lay flat while going through one of the regular police checkpoints. One more bus transfer and we arrived safely in Besisahar at around 7 with a feeling of finally being home. At least it is enough of a home for now.

Sorry that this has been a novel. Somewhere at altitude something went wrong with my I-pad that I am in the process of fixing, but I may not be able to post again for a while. The next couple weeks promise to be fairly boring however so it is ok. If anything truly exciting happens I will be sure to let you know