Walking Home

reveries of an amateur long-distance hiker

March 7

March 10th, 2016

March 7 Day 7 Tilicho Base Camp up to Tilicho Lake then to Blue Sheep Hotel

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The room in the Hotel Moonlight was very cold, but they had huge blankets which, along with my down bag, kept everything but my nose warm. When I went to bed, it was fully misted over and the snow was coming down. In the middle of the night, I went outside to piss. The weather had cleared and the stars were innumerable. In the morning, I got up with Kyle and Will, had “rice pudding” for breakfast (rice, milk, sugar), and off we set, going from 4150 m to 5200 m on our way up to Tilicho Lake (one of the highest lakes in the world). Down where we started there was about an inch of snow and the flowing stream was partially frozen. Right away we were climbing hard– it was one of those crystalline days much like I had in the Richmond Range in New Zealand. The snow had cleared all the dust and moisture from the air, so the ridges, rocks, glaciers all stood out with stark shadows. It took almost three hours to reach the lake even though it was only about 5 km. We were walking slowly because of altitude gain but also because we were trekking into high mountains with blue-green glaciers — more blue than green– and occasionally a piece would break off and the avalanche would start. Near the top, a large chunk rumbled and soon a river of snow flowed and spread down the mountainside, hitting the valley and bursting into a cloud which swept across the trail. Some people in front of us started running back. Even though there was a large valley between us, it seemed as if it would come all the way to our ridge. The last kilometer was through a flat area with the snow about 8 inches, though the trail was packed tight. The avalanche cloud crossed and recrossed the valley, so when we got to the lake turning point, a sudden rush of snow and mist enveloped and soaked us (it melted on contact). I was glad I had on my wind shell–quickly pulled up my hood and ducked against the wind. It soon settled, and I took in the view, remembering Maurice Herzog’s description of leading the 1950 expedition across this frozen lake on their way to the summit of Annapurna. The hike down was fast, and by lunchtime we were back at base camp having Dal Bhat. The camp is an odd spot as it is completely isolated– no roads in–and, unlike the previous villages, there is no indigenous economy–no gardens or animals. In many ways, it resembles an outpost in a Star Wars movie. Isolated but full of people. After lunch we made our way across many scree fields back the trail to the Blue Sheep Hotel which put us in a good position to get back onto the Annapurna circuit in prep for the Thorung Pass. Another cold evening huddled around the wood stove with the hotel dining area and an early night to sleep.

T. Hugh Crawford

March 6

March 10th, 2016

March 6 Day 6 Manang to Lake Tilicho Base Camp

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At 7:15 the chocolate pastries came out of the oven and I was there for the first one, along with a cappuccino which made for a decidedly cosmopolitan breakfast. It also led to an early start. Had 15 km with a fair amount of altitude gain, so thought I better head out early, but while lingering over my coffee I watched as the Manang locals going off to work, many carrying the now familiar back baskets equipped with shoulder straps and the tump (forehead) band. They carry everything in them– firewood, tools, compost–wonderfully utilitarian objects in a place where everyone must always be involved with moving goods from here to there. The woodcutters could bring a load in with a truck, but often there are no trucks, so they each shoulder a large log (not in the basket) and carry them where they need to be. I found my way out of the town through a series of gates and twisting alleys. Everyone I passed was praying, some fingering prayer beads. Soon I was on my way climbing to a path that leads up the river eventually to the lake. Parts were narrow and steep, some were on a narrow dirt road. Just outside Khangsar a man was driving cattle down the path and greeted me with a loud “namaste.” He had a smile missing some teeth but full of affection and asked if I was walking to the base camp. I replied yes. He pointed toward the village and said “tea,” then pointed to his red coat. I looked at the town and could see a red hotel building. We both laughed at our effective communication, and I walked on, disappointed to find the hotel closed. My march continued up some steep slopes then past an old closed gompa. Most of it was corrugated steel, but it was strangely beautiful, fading yellow and red paint. Just past were two large closed hotels near a cliff and two magnificent birds. Too big for hawks, at first I thought they were vultures, but one swooped down and I could see clearly its feathered head and hooked bill. When one landed I saw its feathered legs– they were eagles. The latter part of the trail crossed a series of scree fields which reminded me of trekking on New Zealand’s South Island. Much of it was narrow and loose but I was still confident from my long trek. Nearing base camp I hiked with Kyle and Will, an American and an Englishman, for the last stretch. There were two hotels. I had lunch in one and tried to get a room, but because there was a large influx of trekkers the proprietor wanted to overcharge me for a bad room. When I protested he just laughed. I ended up joining Kyle and Will in their three bunk room and spent the afternoon in the dining room talking with them as the temperature dropped and it started to snow. We wondered if the trail will be open tomorrow but the locals say it should not be a problem. My plan is to hike up to the lake then head back to the one hotel that was open back past the scree fields which should put me in a good position to make it to Yak Karka the following day. Finally they made a fire in the wood stove to heat the dining room. In went some rotten chunks squirted with kerosene which did not really catch. He reached into a large bag for dried cow dung which soon warmed the room, a circle of people around the stove: seven Nepalis, one Chinese, three Americans, one Belgian, two Brits, and a Dutchman– a veritable UN.

T. Hugh Crawford

March 4

March 10th, 2016

March 4 Day 4 Upper Pisang to Ngawal

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In the middle of the night I heard a roar. My first thought was thunder, but the sky was clear. It was an avalanche in the glacier bowl on Annapurna II. It faces Upper Pisang across the river valley and so is a natural amplifier. I rolled over and slept until 6:00 when the whole crew started stomping around. Plain wood floors and walls make for noisy neighbors. Frost was on the deck on the way to the dining area. A pot of black tea and some oatmeal started the day and soon I was making my way down the trail. A cold morning– and they will become increasingly cold. A little concerned that my foul weather gear won’t be enough, but I’ll just put on everything I have when crossing Thorung La. No road walking today as the path is high above the river and the road is on the other side. It is a day to get serious about acclimatization, so on the steep grades I do a lot of short rest stops to get breath. Each day’s distance will be quite short until I get over the pass. There is a lot of anxiety amongst the trekkers here about altitude edema– pretty much a constant in conversation. All I can do is to inventory my physical state constantly, rest a lot, and be willing to turn back if necessary. Although much of Nepal is Buddhist, the deeper into the mountains I go, the more mani walls, shrines, stupas, and gompas I pass. Yesterday I saw trimmed ends of juniper drying on the hotel deck looking almost as if they were making wreaths. In the mornings they make a small fire on a pedestal, usually near a mani wall, with the smoky juniper twigs in order to wake up Buddha. Most of the morning was on a high path looking back at Annapurna II while looking toward Annapurna III. After crossing a long swinging bridge I began to make my way up a long incline, probably gaining about 400 meters of altitude in a short stretch. At about the third switchback I heard that same rumble and turned to see a wall of snow and ice crashing down the Annapurna glacier bowl. It turned into a cloud filling the whole area, then settled back down covering the rocks that had previously been exposed. The sun was shining brightly through it all– no words for that scene. Not long after I passed men driving two horses that were wearing brightly colored saddles, would love to have seen them riding across the countryside. The rest of the morning was a long climb involving a lot of stopping to breath. This is perhaps an obvious observation, but I understand better one of the reasons Buddhist meditation practices focus on the breath. Here where the religion began, focusing on your breathing is a away of life. Even the guides who walk these mountains constantly have to acclimatize. On the ascents, you can see their careful breathing patterns, something I’ve never been so aware of. Ngawal also is home to a large gompa though older than the one at Upper Pisang. The complex had several older buildings including one housing a large colorful prayer wheel, and a mani wall that had very old, cloth covered prayer wheels. You could see the handwritten script of the prayers on the tatters, beautiful. Later dined on yak Dal Bhat, then early to bed.

T. Hugh Crawford

March 3

March 10th, 2016

March 3 Day 3 Chame to Upper Pisang

 

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There is a regular crew of trekkers on the circuit with many of the same target towns. Three young Spanish women who hike in tights, Jack from Taiwan, Marty from Los Angeles, three women from Australia who have hiked all over the world together, Patrice from Quebec, and Ville and Kristen–two fascinating PCT hikers, Ville is from Finland but they currently call Bend, Oregon home. Today and the next are planned short days to acclimatize, so I made the 13k to Upper Pisang by noon. A fair amount of elevation gain, but it was gradual and so an easy day. Tomorrow will be the same length but more elevation. A day of amazing views, making a slow sweep around the northern part of Annapurna II. At 7937m, it is not quite as tall as Annapurna, but a welcome sight across the trek. Much of the trail was on the road, though it did branch off up into a beautiful pine forest. The path was well-formed and the smell of sap was refreshing. This whole area is being logged off in small patches by hand. I walked through several abandoned logging camps with small huts and pit-saw platforms. At first I thought it was a base where they brought in a portable sawmill, but looking at the structure and at the saw marks on some leftover beams convinced me they were sawing out boards in the traditional way: a two-handled saw with a topsawyer guiding while the poor wretch beneath had to chuck the saw back up in a cloud of sawdust. I passed a number of foresters but heard no machinery, just men with axes and two-handled buck saws. Along the side of the trail were carefully stacked rough-sawn boards drying out. Later I passed a newly planted apple orchard with what looked to be a large processing house under construction, beautiful building. A couple of kilometers before the end the path passed through Dhukurpokhari, a pretty village, so I stopped for black tea. Learning to slow down and just let the day unfold. I was first to the Hill Top Guest House, but soon the place filled up with the crew, and we all had lunch out on a deck looking down at the village of Lower Pisang and up at Annapurna II which had the midday sun lighting up the glaciers, making them seemingly transparent in some places. Inside the guest house eating area there are the large color prints of family members tacked to the wall, but incongruously in their midst is a large poster of the boy band “One Direction.” I stole away from the crew and followed the winding paths up through the village. It is a very old town with no main street but instead winding paths between old but tall stone structures. The pedestrian traffic was more likely to be bovine than human. Eventually I got to the top and the probable reason for the village in the first place, the Pisang Gompa. They have just constructed a new Stupa with magnificent polished stone, and are building some other structures in the complex. Unfortunately the main monastery building was locked, so I sat in the sun on the large stone landing in front. Across the valley rose Annapurna II giving reason for it all. I sat for a long time, much with eyes closed emptying all concerns. Then for moments I would look at the massif in front of me. Crows were circling, floating on the thermals where I would expect hawks. Five defined peaks, each a different texture and all changing with the light. There were two razor-edged points to the left with shining columnar ice making reflective ripples, and just below the main peak were blue-green glaciers ready to disgorge blocks of ice in the early-spring, mid afternoon sun. To the right were other ridges, some with trees edging up to the ice and waterfalls that were actually ice falls. It was a place both peaceful and overwhelming–nothing else matters.

March 2

March 2nd, 2016

March 2 Tal to Chame

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I swore after yesterday that I wouldn’t do long days– I have plenty of time for this trek, but I found myself today pushing it to get to Chame, which is supposed to be one of the best towns on the circuit. A lot of road walking, though the roads are a lot like paths in many places. Coming out of Tal I passed a man and his children with a yoke of little oxen plowing a field. Small children walked behind with Pringles cans full of seeds sprinkling away. Later walking through a village, there were some men framing up a building. They had chisels and were cutting mortise and tenon joints while another man was truing up the beam with a small hand adze. Just down the way, I watched two women spinning yarn. They had a big bag of wool (I think goat wool) and they had a spindle that looked like an elongated children’s top which they spun with the point in a china bowl. Their fingers worked fast and the yarn was beautiful. Beside them in large flat drying baskets were chilies. The road I am following runs along the river all the way to Manang, which is the largest town in the area. The only vehicles besides tractors that run on it are Mahindra quad cab pickups– they are diesel four wheel drive trucks strong enough to make it over the rocks and through the streams. One was called the Manang Express, which made me laugh since I can walk almost a fast as they can drive on these roads. I did stop and watch a road crew work, laying out what we would probably call a Roman road, with cut or broken stone laid in a rough cobble pattern. The hike up and over the ridge to Timang was steep with lots of steps, which in a little altitude really winds me. Had to stop a bit just to breath. Stopped for lunch in Timang at a pleasant outside restaurant, had a Gorkha beer (which will surely slow me down) and watched the clouds come in over the ridge. Now to the south and west I can see parts of the Annapurna massif. Walking around the mountains is a way of paying them respect (rather than the Western climb and conquer mentality). What I have seen so far deserves something more than the word respect conveys. The rest of the afternoon was just a long dusty road walk, and found the Moonlight hotel for a well-deserved rest.

March 1

March 2nd, 2016

March 1 first day of Annapurna Circuit

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First days of a trek are always filled with possibility but also hesitation. I left well fortified as my pancake breakfast was mountainous, as was the rest of the day’s hike. It was curious to see many small sheds in the village which had fires inside but no chimney. They tilt up an edge of the steel roof, and the smoke escapes that way. Would not want to spend too much time in one of those. After warm goodbyes I left the village-near-the-bridge and headed up river. For the next few days, the path will follow a tumultuous river, crossing regularly on pendulous and not always trust-inspiring swinging bridges. Most on this part are steel and feel more secure than those on Helambu, but they are very long and high. When crossing one I noticed animal dung on the treadway, wondering how anyone could convince an animal to cross such a machine. Moments later, a man leading a string of pack burros walked by, answering my question. In the morning, when I was still in the lower part of the river valley, I walked through fields and villages. Even though the terraces are narrow, up here they use teams of cattle (not quite oxen) in yokes to pull simple wooden plows. I sat and watched as two teams broke a narrow field. Later, as I was walking up a narrow path through a small cluster of buildings (not quite a village) I passed a man cutting a mortise in the top of an oddly shaped timber. I assumed it was for a rafter tie as the angle was sharp. Later I met another man doing similar work and realized he was fashioning a plow. They chisel a groove in the blade section to affix a thin strip of steel which serves and the plow edge. They pick the material to make the plows from stumps. I saw a pile next to a shed that were possible candidates for plowdom, the rest were firewood. Trees here are the usual lower altitude mix, though there are many tall spindly ones looking very much like our tulip poplars, though they are covered with bright red tulip-like blossoms. As I recall, our tulip poplars are not real poplars but instead a species of magnolia. I’d guess these red tulip trees are close relatives. As the day wore on, the river valley narrowed and the path got steep. Passing through one village on a narrow part of the path I saw two women working with large flat baskets and a heavy brass mortar and pestle. They were grinding and drying turmeric root. The baskets had the most beautiful yellow power. At a rest stop I met trekkers from Finland, South Africa, and Oregon. I guess we will cross paths in the days to come– nice folks– though I have much more time to make the circuit and will probably take it (you can live well on 15$ per day while trekking here) and I really have so much to learn from this, definitely not in a hurry. Near the end of the day, coming up over a rise in the late afternoon, I could see a wide bend of the river making a broad sand beach, and just up river, brightly colored, was Tal, the day’s end point. Walking down Main Street I was surprised at how many hotels there were which claimed lots of amenities, including hot showers and wifi. This is definitely not like the Helambu. I checked into the Mona Lisa hotel, cleaned up and had the signature Tal dish which is a potato, bean, pumpkin, corn bread curry. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Great first day, though I am sore!

Feb 29 transportation day

March 2nd, 2016

Feb 29 a day of road transportation

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Today was a day of transport. To begin the Annapurna circuit, I needed to get to a village just north of Besishahar. Everyone warned of the road to Pokhara from Kathmandu, with good reason. It is paved and two lanes, but just barely, and it winds through narrow mountain edges with an unbelievable amount of heavy traffic, everyone passing each other on sharp narrow turns. The road is dominated by huge Tata trucks with massive chrome fronts which are wonderfully decorated with paint, ribbons, images of shiva, nicknames, one even had the images of the starting lineup for Real Madrid. I opted to take a tour bus as they are larger, less crowded, and are reputed to have good maintenance– read: the brakes work. Definitely was not going to fly as the local airlines have had two major crashes in as many days. The Green Line is maybe the most expensive, but it left from a point just across from my hotel (saved taxi fare) and included lunch at a riverside resort which was pretty much the fanciest place I’ve been in since arriving. Still, the trip to Dumre (my transfer point) took six hours. My seat partner was a man from Spain on his way to work seasonal labor in New Zealand, and the guy behind me was from London on his way to start a new job in Hong Kong. Nice folks. Even though it was a highway, the bus did have to stop several times while people herded goats across. At one of those points, I could see a man slaughtering a goat on the side of the raid. I was the only one to get off in Dumre where I was taken in hand by Chris, one of those people who offer to help out and generally at some point get a decent tip. We sat in a cool restaurant for the hour between buses, me drinking a beer and he telling stories of being a guide on the circuit. Out the window in the back I could see people doing their laundry in the river. Particularly interesting was a couple– she worked on the clothes while he washed two large incredibly beautiful wool patterned rugs. One was a blue I’d never really seen, which he scrubbed carefully in the current of the river. The minibus I got from Dumre to Besishahar was a standard 15 passenger van with 26 people (including baggage) in it. The road was still paved, but was increasingly narrow which did nothing to dampen the driver’s enthusiasm for acceleration and horn blowing. Besishahar was the last large town, and I finally got the bus Nadi — a classic Nepal bus with loud music, lots of tassels, and people crammed in every possible spot. Lots of stuff ends up on the roof with the ticket taker climbing up while the bus is moving. We passed one bus that I thought had a person riding up there, but it was two goats. No idea how they got up there or why they stayed. The surface of the road gave out and the third bus did not go much faster than I can walk. Techincally that section was part of the circuit, but it is an industrial area where a large Chinese company is building a hydro electric plant. All the guides say not to walk it and I’m glad I took the bus to a point just about the project. A man on the bus recommended I stay in a guest house just north of Nadi at the foot of a huge steel swinging bridge. A really great guest house run by Hari who is studying Korean language. Sat by the river for a while, then had a beer and curry. As I ate I could see lights in some of the buildings with people gathered around, then someone began playing a flute that was so plaintive it was almost like listening bagpipes. Then someone played one of those small fiddle/guitars they have. The music echoed around while I finished dinner, getting me ready for a good night’s sleep.

Feb 25-27

February 27th, 2016

Feb 25 – 27

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Daily life in Kathmandu: I have taken off my trekking shoes for a few days to take care of some trek planning, catch up on correspondence, and get some writing done. Daily life in Kathmandu is now an exercise in familiarity, in part because my habits are so regular: waking early, checking the news or sometimes even watching it, if the hotel electricity happens to be on (there is no clear pattern to the daily outages that I can discern, and the only Internet site that I have found which lists it is written in Nepali). Morning coffee and writing at the Himalaya Java–2$ omelette, 1$ coffee, take that Starbucks– followed by midday running errands, a quiet late afternoon and dinner, usually at the New Orleans cafe.

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I am a familiar face in those haunts and so am greeted warmly. Also I’ve met a number of expats who follow a similar pattern– interesting folks all. It is a narrow form of living, but for now, comfortable and productive. Soon enough I’ll be back in the wilds of the Himalayas.

 

Feb 24

February 25th, 2016

Feb 24

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Woke in my favorite hotel with no electricity which is of course a regular occurrence in Kathmandu–power is only on about half the time. That is as much as I am roughing it back here in the city after my warm-up trek in Helambu. Technological differences tend to be what we first notice when visiting other places. The deeper into the mountains, the fewer conveniences, the simpler the life. Many writers, including some I highly respect, will often describe this as stepping “back in time.” I understand what they mean. In isolated rural areas, the daily practices of the people living there are often quite similar to those of their ancestors. A farmer tilling narrow terraced fields with a short-handled heavy hoe is a scene that has been repeated for centuries if not millennia, so for visitors, it is of an antique simplicity. However the “back in time” attitude is the result of a parochial sense of modernity. Yes, without doubt, the people living in, say, Melamchigaon are not working in sanitized, hermetically-sealed, climate-controlled environments staring at computer screens all day, but they are living in the 21st century, surrounded by artifacts of that era including the ubiquitous steel and aluminum sheathing, cell phones, quallofil polyester jackets, airplanes and helicopters circling, soldiers patrolling with automatic weapons. While they may not be in a high-tech envelope, they, like the vast majority of the world’s population, are in the true or larger modern world. The place where they live and work is a hybrid of high tech and traditional practices that a narrow, hyper-modern view overlooks. What the “back in time” trope brings is a sense of distance from and a concomitant blindness to the hybrid nature of all our modernities. Silicon Valley daily life is also full of activities long practiced by humans but overlooked in pursuit of a digital totality. Ezra Pound’s plea to “make it new” starts with an “it” that is modernized, but the “it” and all its deep history is sedimented in that “new.” Stepping into Melamchigaon is not a temporal disjunction. It is spatial. It is stepping into a different modern world.

 

T. Hugh Crawford