Annapurna Base Camp, ABC trek, Nepal
Day 4 of the trek
“Next ten minutes, you walk very fast. No breaks.” Tulasi said looking up from his phone and taking out one of his earbuds. He pointed to the sign at the fence we were about to walk through that read, ‘Avalanche area.’ “Here many avalanches. No breaks.”
He put his ear buds back in, slipped through the gate and began to walk quickly down the narrow dirt path. I looked up to my left at the mountains (the ones he had called hills earlier this morning “Not mountains – no snow, just hill mountains) that reached thousands of feet above my head and the to the right at the river that rushed below me and sent up a quick prayer to the gods and goddesses that look over me and an apology to my father who I can always here in the back of my head warning me against high risk behavior.
Surely this couldn’t be too high risk with the quantity of Trekkers walking up to the Annapurna Base Camp. This was one of those warnings like the one on the top of the to go coffee lids “Caution – coffee is hot and may scald if spilled.” The one they began putting on the lids after that woman sued McDonalds after she burnt herself while drinking their coffee and spilling it on herself. Surely, this wasn’t a common occurrence. Nevertheless as I stepped through the threshold to the other side, my heart quickened a few beats and I stored my phone in my pocket.
Up ahead I could see my guide still walking and messing with his phone and I wondered if he could hear an impending Avalanche with his earbuds in. I shook my head betting that the agency that contracted him didn’t expect him to walk way ahead of me or way behind me taking selfies with girls from Thailand, looking for his friends on the trail, or messing with his phone as he walked. Or pressuring me to hurry up and do the trekking in six days instead of seven, not because I am so fast of a trekker but because he has an appointment for his masters degree on Sunday in Kathmandu. I told him I was willing to do the descent in two. But that's only if the weather is clear at the Base Camp and I can see what I came to see. Otherwise I am staying the extra day and he can decide what he wants to do.
I pull the cap around my ears as the wind picks up. Today is the first day I have been legitimately cold, with temperature at or below freezing when we set out from Deurali this morning at 8:30 and I realized that my sports bra and t shirt and even my pants had never fully dried as I donned the cold, sweaty clothes followed by my base layer and my north face jacket, gloves, two pairs of socks, cap and gloves.
He had said ten minutes, so I quickened my pace as we went up the trail ascending for a few minutes in silence. Tulasi paused and pointed out a big Boulder about 20 feet in length and easily that tall as well in the river (had we left the danger area yet?) “See this one? This rock? It come from there.” He pointed above us at the mountains and laughed. I wasn’t totally sure what was funny about that statement and wondered why we had stopped when he had clearly stated that we needed to go quickly. Was he just messing with me? We climbed over a bamboo fence with no sign a few minutes later which I assumed meant we were now out of the danger zone and continued walking. The thunderstorm and heavy rains of the night before had subsided leaving us with a clear view of the mountain range – all around me snow covered peaks jutted up in the distance – Fishtail, Ghanapurna and at times Annapurna. The “Hill mountains” in the forefront of their great white faces framing the river that rushed from the snow peaks above.
We climbed and climbed from 3200 at Deurali to Machhapuchre Base camp elevation 3700m (11,100 feet) breathing in the thin air, passing the Trekkers coming down from Annapurna Base Camp who had arisen early that morning to witness the unveiling of the peaks at sunrise. I threw up a small request for good weather the next day and continued huffing up the trail. Twenty minutes before MBC, I met Christine, an Australian woman who had passed me on the way up. She looked to be in her late 40s or early 50s and she had two Nepali men with her – one looked to be a porter and possibly the other her guide. I wondered what she could possibly be bringing with her, but didn’t dare to ask. Instead I inquired what she was tipping them so I could get an idea about what to finally give my pushy, ungrateful, distracted guide.
We had tea together at MBC and it turned out she had been on the trail for over 30 days on the Annapurna circuit. She had come first a few years ago, done ABC and loved and left knowing she needed to spend more time out I the wilderness among the big peaks. Hence the big bag. Now it made more sense. As a contract nurse in Sydney – she could take 3 week or 3 month jobs, then take a month or so off to satiate her pull to walk among the majestic Himalayan peaks. “I am planning to come back again in October for Everest Base Camp. That’s even colder than the -20 degrees Celsius it will be at ABC. October is a better time to do it weather wise.” I wondered if I had a 30 day trek in my or for that matter a 15 day one and how one prepared for such a trek. She explained to me that she only hiked four to five hours a day to allow her body to acclimatize to the elevation change from Sydney’s sea level to Thralang Pass at over 5000 meters. People are so amazing.
She set out a few minutes ahead of us from MBC up onto the snow pack for the next hour and a half up to 4130 meters (over 12,000 feet). We walked along the snow pack slowly watching the descending Trekkers slipping down the path. I wondered about my running shoe choice for the descent and decided to worry about it the next day.
“This mountain?” Tulasi pointed out a mountain behind us in the distance. “Holy mountain. No one can climb. Nepali law. May people try but fail so Nepali Government say it is holy mountain. So many mountains around. We need one to be holy.”
Clouds covered Annapurna in front of us and we began to see our first flakes of snow. “It never snows or rains before two o’clock” Tulasi assured me and I crossed my fingers. With my luck it would start snowing now, completely sock in the view and stop sometime next week. The silence was absolute as we walking on a muddy path, hugging the stream filled with snow and icicles. Just the sound of the wind in my ears. Behind me no one just Christine and her guide and porter , ahead of me, just mountains and clouds.
As we passed the welcome sign for ABC and I stopped to take a picture, a helicopter flew over head. “Rescue?” I asked the Nepalese man taking my picture.
“I think so.” He nodded gravely.
I sent up thanks to the powers that be to avoid my own helicopter rescued as the flurries picked up. The mountains disappeared behind the thick white cloud cover and I wished them “good night” at 12:30 in the afternoon.
Luckily, by then we had already arrived at the hotel at Base camp where tonight I would pay $1.50 to share a room with two guys from Thailand. I inquired about other female guests, but the man that seemed to be running the establishment shrugged and Tulasi said, “All beds are booked for tonight. They call ahead.” I looked at room after room of empty beds and wondered if he could possibly be right, but I was too cold to argue at this point and instead met Dan and Av, my roommates for the evening. Here I sit sipping tea in a lodge, 4,130 meters above the earth. Snow covered mountains all around me. Wearing every article of clothing I own. This is why people are drawn to these mountains.
Summit to Chomrong, ABC trek Nepal
Day 5 of the trek
I don't know what I was so worried about. Sure Tulasi didn't love the idea of me not going back to pokhara with him, but as long as I give him his tip and don't complain to Nevrim and he still gets paid for six days, he actually makes out on the deal. I was going to to tell him to forget it and give him all the feedback about him flirting with Anya and looking at his phone and asking for money and things, but I thought in the grand scheme of things, who cares. It's less than $100 for me and for him, it's his livelihood. So I swallowed my pride, thanked him for his service, assured him it had nothing to do with him and split a beer with him to celebrate our travels together.
And maybe to some extent, it wasn't about him. Maybe it was about me wanting that solo adventure. About having to figure it out. About also feeling like a badass. I think spending the day hiking with Anya gave me a whole new definition of just what baddass really is. Here's a kid – and I do mean kid- she's 18 years old- that really thrives on pushing herself. On living outside her comfort zone. She lives with her parents and sister in Singapore for the last two years. She’s from the US but her parents’ work landed them in Singapore. She graduated high school last year and was accepted to Mt Holyoke university, but deferred acceptance to travel and do an internship. In October, she hiked Everest base camp with her 56 year old mother and for the last 22 days she's been on the Annapurna circuit alone. True on day two she did meet up with a couple of guys and ended up hiking with them, but the fact remains, that she set out on this adventure alone. At eighteen.
I was not that bold or self confident or even self sufficient at that age. I am blown away and humbled. By her. By Christine at age 50 hiking 30 days on her own and already planning out her trek for October. By Phillip who I met in the lodge last night, a 20-Something Swiss guy who traveled overland by bus, train or motorcycle from Zurich to Nepal only flying once from Dubai to Nepal. By Rich, the English lawyer who quit his life at 29 and came to Nepal to hike and Sri Lanka to surf and rediscover what makes him tick. Just too many stories to share of people making bold choices, taking risks. This morning as I stood in the minus fifteen degree temperatures in the dawn, each mountain in the Annapurna mountain range revealing themselves to a bundled up group of Trekkers, I was lulled into an awestruck silence.
Snow covered mountains towered 27,000 feet overhead (though technically only 15,000 feet above where we were standing). They had drawn us to their magic. My phone gave up due to extreme temperatures and I stowed it in my pocket- unable to take more pictures.
Forced to just to be. To stand and behold Annapurna south and Annapurna one and Fishter and Ghanapurna. Peaks reaching over 7,000 and in some cases, 8,000 meters. Colorful flags were strung up around the temple where we all huddled. The sun struggled to break out from behind the mountains to the east, with each passing minute, lighting up just a fraction more of the mountains to our west.
And despite the fact that soon I would be walking over eight hours to reach where I would lay my head this evening.
Up 3000 steps and at least down as many, despite the snow field I would slip and slide down in my sneakers, despite the Avalanche risk area and the sun beating down on us until we entered the bamboo forest, our sweat drying on our skin leaving us both hot and chilled at the same time.
Despite it all, I felt nothing but humbled to be in their presence. An inner peace filled me as the wind whipped at my face, as the light ignited the snow caps around us. As we stood united, across age, countries and language … Because we had come when the mountains had called us.
Day 6 of the trek
Tadapani, ABC trek, Nepal
Well I finally ditched the guide and struck out on my own today, and besides an hour or so detour when I accidentally missed a turn, I would say it went pretty well.
It was overcast and hazy in Chomrong when I left this morning at 7:15 and the first few hours went off without a hitch. I stayed right like Thulasi had told me to, asked the locals (like he had told me to do) and ran into many groups coming from the opposite direction. At one point, I passed an elderly man and three ox and he indicated I should pass them on the right. I got passed the first two, when the third chose that moment to go right himself. I stopped and the ox behind me crashed into me. The man yelled and as I stepped left, the front oxen did as well, leaving me trapped between the two ox. The man said something I didn’t understand in a loud voice, threw a rock in front of the first animal and miraculously, they moved away from me and I sped on past them, waving my thanks over my shoulder as I left.
The path wound up and down for the through Gurjung and Shurjung and for a while I couldn’t tell if it would have been easier to go the way most folks go from Tadapani to Chomrong instead of the reverse. I went down, down, down all the way to the river and crossed yet another suspension bridge at Siprong, holding my breath that the construction was sound as I walked across the swaying metal bridge suspended hundreds of feet above the raging river below.
I climbed for about 15 minutes when I reached the first tea house in Chuile. I had been walking almost three hours and felt like I could take an extended break. After all, Thulasi had said that at my pace, I’d make it to Tadapani in four hours and even the maps only had five hours listed as the time required from Chomrong to Tadapani.
The family running the tea house were a mom, her two kids ( a teenage girl and ten year old son) and a few visiting neighborhood children. Besides asking me for chocolate or chiclets, like every child has on these village paths, the kids were sweet and interested in my blister bandages, the pills to sterilize the water and where I was from. I had a coffee and granola bar, bought a snickers just in case and refilled my water before heading out. My map indicated about a mile left to Tadapani, but the mom at the tea house was sure it would take about two hours. I had time and felt good, so wasn’t that worried.
I walked up through the barely fields and and the next lodge and noticed again that the map indicated the two hour travel time. I passed a couple headed down hill and continued huffing and puffing my way up the mountain. I got to what looked like a split in the road and thought head right in my head. But when I looked at the road, it looked like the right path went up and then rejoined the path I was on, so I kept on the path without steps thinking I had saved myself a few seconds of exertion. That’s where I made my first mistake.
I walked down for a while on a narrow path overlooking the valley below and and then veered right onto what seemed to be a stream bed. I stepped over and sometimes in the mud, hopped from rock to rock and continued on. At that point I pulled out my phone and noticed that now the distance to Tadapani read 1.0 when the last time I looked, it was .9. I thought it might be the GPS acting funny without any wifi and continued on for the next few minutes until I came to the end of the path where it merged with one that headed both right and left. I sat on the stone bench along the trail and rebooked at the phone. The arrow now indicated my location decidedly off the path, but it still read 1.0. I thought maybe I could hook back up with the path to Tadapani and didn’t see anyone coming in either direction so took the right and kept walking for the next ten minutes. The mileage now indicated 1.1. I was definitely going the wrong way.
I walked hoping for a tourist, a guide, a porter, a local or a house before I went too far out of my way. Finally up ahead I saw a house. I looked at my map on my phone and the one I had taken a picture of that Anya had had. There were no roads where I was. Yet, I was definitely on one. I walked up the stone steps and called out, “Namaste?”
A young man appeared from the field next to the house and returned my greeting. “Tadapani?” I tentatively asked. He pointed the direction I came from, just as I suspected. “Straight the whole time?” He nodded. “What if the road goes right and left?”
He motioned to the right and said, “Left.”
I thanked him and headed back the way I came. The road dipped to the right and I decided to follow the man’s physical directions since I wasn’t sure that he knew right and left in English and walked down rather than back up the stream. I was trying to remember where I could have made my mistake, but nothing came to mind.
I came to a house and saw a figure lying on the grass in front. “Namaste?” I called and a woman sat up from what seemed to be a mid day nap. “Sorry to bother you.” I clasped my hands in a prayer in front of my chest. “Tadapani.”
The woman pointed the way I was going. “Danyabad,” I thanked her and continued on over a stream and a fence that had a little ramp from plywood stacked so that people could get over it. All of a sudden, up ahead I saw a town. I looked at my phone and groaned. I was back in Chuile. It had been an hour. I asked the woman in the field picking barley and they pointed up the mountain.
So for the second time that day, I headed up the mountain from Chuile toward what I hoped was Tadapani. This time when I came to the road that I thought had led nowhere, I took the right and went up the stairs. The stairs switched back to the right and then the left and then the right again and I saw the blue and white trail marker painted on the rocks at my feet. Now I was headed in the right direction. One hour later and still a mile to go. Awesome.
The next hour and fifteen minutes seemed to be the slowest of my life. The trail seemed to go straight up into the forest with no town in sight. Monkeys swung from the trees above me. Cows stood in the path. Oxen grazed in the forest and not a soul passed me. I passed not a soul. I thought there is no way this GPS can be right when I looked at the clock and twenty minutes had passed, yet the mileage to Tadapani still read the same as it had the last time I looked.
At noon, I arrived at a tall wooden bench and hoisted myself onto it grateful I had filled water in Chuile. My stomach growled. I remembered the snickers and ate it slowly. Never had a food tasted so good. .5 to go. How long could that possibly take I thought. I usually walk two miles an hour when hiking – maybe a mile and a half when going up hill or a mile an hour with a pack. This couldn’t be long now.
I was covered in sweat, but at over 2000 meters, the air had a chill, and the breeze dried my sweat leaving my skin cold to the touch. I ignored the fact that the moleskin had long since fallen off my heels and I could see blood pooling on the low socks I had chosen in the morning because my long hiking socks had been wet.
“I can do this.” I said to no one in particular, grabbed my backpack and gritted my teeth against the long stretch of uphill in front of me.
I walked and walked. Stopping to catch my breath every five minutes. Time dragged on. The mileage stayed stagnant. I was grateful it was early and that I had decided not to go all the way to Ghorepani in one day, which was another five hours from Tadapani – also mostly uphill.
Finally the map indicated there was 800 feet left. I was close. I could taste it. And then there it was – Tadapani – an oasis in a desert – only real. I walked through the town and took refuge in a hotel on the top of the hill – Majestic hotel – it boasted views of the mountain range currently covered in fog or clouds or smog or something.
Both of my heels were bleeding as I eased off my sneakers, cleaned them with an antiseptic towel and covered them with moleskin to stop the blood. My hotel was empty save the family running the place and I decided to go back down the stairs to the “town” to see if I could find other Trekkers for my hike to Ghorepani the next day. I walked through the courtyards of two of the hotels, but could only see folks sitting with their backpacks. That indicated they were not stopped for the evening.
As I walked through the Fishtail hotel’s patio, an older woman sitting on the ground next to a blue tarp of meat drying, called to me. “Where you come from today?”
“Chomrong.” I replied.
“You so fast!” She exclaimed and asked where I was staying. I pointed up the hill and she motioned for me to sit. In the chair next to mine was her thirty year old daughter. Behind her was another grown daughter and a three year old girl, her head shaved, two small gold hoops in her ears. The little girl played with a piece of plywood as a sword. The older woman sewed a burlap sack.
I sat with the woman chatting for a while, answering their questions. “No I wasn’t married. No I didn’t have children. Yes I am actually 41 years old. Yes I am here alone, not in a group.” The woman on the ground offered me some meat and I declined hoping that once I explained I was a vegetarian, she would not be offended. She told me she was fifty eight years old and that her husband was in the army in Blight. I told her I didn’t know where that was and she nodded. She smiled and said something I didn’t understand and I nodded. She went back to sewing.
I sat for a while longer and then realized that I was likely not going to find another trekker sitting there. So I bid my farewells and headed back up the hill for a ginger tea and a bit of rest before my trek to Ghorepani. Maybe I will find someone in the morning.
I knew I could trek this on my own. I am glad that I told Thulasi to go on without me, convinced Nevrim they should not send another guide and have the next few days to navigate the Annupurna sanctuary on my own. Of course now in the back of my head, I wish I was out here longer than eight days. But how was I to know that I wouldn’t hate hiking day after day.
Yesterday while hiking down from ABC, we passed what seemed like the Swiss Family Robison. A dad in front, holding a four year old’s hand. Two sisters in their teens, a ten year old girl and another teen girl followed up by mom. It made me realized how traveled and popular this route really is. That’s not to say that it’s not special and sacred to each person who travels along the path. Each one of us on our own quest to either reach some height, or log a certain number of hours or miles or days or just be in awe at the majestic peaks and green valleys around us.
Ghorepani, ABC- Poon Hill Trek, Nepal
Day 7 of the trek
I probably should have kept hiking when I reached Ghorepani. It’s never a good idea to stop in the first tea house. Especially since I have a sunrise hike tomorrow and stopping early today means hiking more in the dark tomorrow. That’s probably why I am the only one in this hotel (again).
But I just couldn’t keep going. It was a combination of just feeling so tired and so run down and my stomach. I think the run down, tired part started yesterday. That last hour until Tadapani had felt like torture. But today was something else entirely.
It felt like every step was work. And of course since I was hiking from Tadapani to Ghorepani, instead of the other way around, almost all of it was uphill.
At first I couldn’t figure it out. Especially since I had gone to bed so early last night.
After all there was nothing much to do in the lodge as I was the only guest staying there. I had come back up to the lodge after my “jaunt” into town to buy the gloves and chat with the woman drying her beef and had some ginger tea to warm myself up. Down below I could see the other Trekkers gathered at the table of the lodge I had rejected for being too costly. Now the $1.50 more I refused to spend seemed foolish since I was sitting alone in the dining room of Hotel Magnificent, too far from the other hotels to even visit.
I wrote for a while, sipping my tea and ended up dancing with the three year old girl and four year old boy to pop Nepali songs by the heater. But then they ended up going outside with the three other kids to play some sort of chase one another around to get the cookies from the two older boys game and I didn’t feel invited to this game as I had to the dancing, the youngest girl alternately petting my head and leading me by the hand around the dining room to dance. That is until she saw that my blisters had dried blood on them.
Then she made me sit down and brought me napkins to clean my wounds. It was really quite adorable, but didn’t give me anyone to hike with today in the end. By 7:00, I had eaten my vegetable soup, danced with the kids, written for the day, finished a book and started another. And it was barely even dark. I got up the next day feeling rested at 6:30 and by 7:15, I was packed, dressed, fed and ready to head down the hill from Tadapani to the river. If I had known that that down hill was going to be the only one for the day until my descent into Ghorepani, I might have relished it more.
But I was just excited to be moving more quickly than the previous day. I noticed the same issue with the mileage, but finally figured out that the distance the map was telling me was merely a straight line – an as the crows fly figure - and so could sometimes say 2.3 for a long time, then go down to 2.2 and then back up to 2.3. Not because I was lost per say but rather because of the twists and turns of the trail.
Anyway, I had been warned that the trip from Tadapani to Ghorepani would be hard. That most people do it the other way for a reason. But I had also been told that the views of the Annapurna range from Tadapani were unbelievable – as good as those from Poon Hill. But all I saw was a white sky covering the majestic snow covered mountains all around us.
I walked up from the river to the first village of Banthani in a little over an hour and decided not to stop for more coffee. It was only 8:30 and seemed early to take a break. So despite the warning from the man at the least tea house that it was an hour and a half up hill to Deurali, I continued on, figuring that would put me at 10 am – a good time for tea or more coffee.
It was around 9:15 that I first felt my stomach begin to churn. So I stopped, rested, drank more water and continued on. But it wasn’t till 9:45 when the churn became a cramp as I put one foot in front of the other, up stair after stair toward Deurali. I was at least 15-30 minutes away still. I sat down on a log to gather my thoughts. My stomach felt like it was in a vice grip. And then it hit me. There was no way I could wait the next three seconds, let alone fifteen minutes to use the bathroom. I looked right and left down the path and saw no one for a change, grabbed my tissue paper, left my pack and climbed up the embankment on the side of the trail.
As I slid down the embankment afterwards toward my backpack, I heard a “Namaste” as an older man, a porter and guide walked by. I nodded and returned the greeting grateful that they hadn’t walked by three seconds earlier.
I made it to Deurali and ordered a tea and wondered what food or water was causing this malaise. I felt cold and clammy all over and pulled out my navy blue, North Face jacket, even though the sun was shining and the hikers walking by were wearing short sleeves and shorts.
Still another two hours to go before Ghorepani and at least ¾ of it uphill. I didn’t know if I could make it. I walked slowly from the tea house at the entrance to town through the other lodge and wondered if I should just stay the night, but decided to push on. I just had to get to the top of the ridge and then it would be smooth sailing to Ghorepani.
So as you can imagine, when I started heading down the hill, I was elated. That was until I hit a fork in the road. I tried to remember Thulasi’s advice about the entrance to town, but could not.
The map indicated that forward was Ghorepani and to the right was Ghorepani Deurali. I wasn’t sure which would put me closer to Poon Hill for the sunrise hike. I sat on the stone bench and watched a white horse graze in the grass. A gray bird with a peacock type tail flew by. Bees buzzed near a fragrant tree. But no one came up or down either path.
Finally I chose the path in front of me and headed down, down, down into Ghorepani. Which is how I ended up here. I needed a shower desperately. I wanted to see if soup would be good for my stomach and frankly, I was over walking for the day.
So here I am once again alone in the lodge, most Trekkers continuing up the hill another half an hour to smartly cut time off their sunrise hike. Today, I just didn’t have it in me.
Poon Hill, ABC trek
Day 8 of the trek
It was 3:45 am when my alarm went off on the last day of my journey. It was dark outside, but it looked like there were stars. Maybe I would get a view on this last day of my extended trek. I certainly hadn’t seen what they told me I would in Tadapani or on the pass on the way down to Ghorepani. But even so, I was grateful for the time on the trail, the time alone and the time without any connection to the outside world.
I layered on the clothes. I imagined that at 3120 meters, it would be cold, regardless of how many steps I had to climb to get to the top. I set out of the hotel and wished once again that I was closer to the poon hill trail. The GPS wasn’t working on my phone and I wasn’t sure I would know in the pitch dark where the left turn to get on the trail would be.
I sent up a small prayer to the universe to find my way, to not get hurt or assaulted or lost and put the headlamp on my head.
I needn’t have worried. I walked no more than fifteen minutes up the stairs, past the police and into town when I saw a big group of Chinese tourists heading down the path toward me. Their guide indicated that they should make a right to head toward Poon Hill and I jumped in front of them so I could walk my own pace, now feeling relieved that I knew the way.
I walked quickly in the dark morning and before long I was sweating and taking off the jacket, the hat and the gloves I had put on in the hotel. I would be glad to have them at the top once again. I passed a couple walking and then another group and soon there were only two people in front of me.
I reached the top in a little over 40 minutes and looked around. The sky was still dark, but there was some lightening of the horizon.
The two people that beat me to the top began to open the coffee and tea post and I realized that I was the first tourist at the top of Poon Hill. Two dogs that belonged to the employees at the coffee post chased each other around, a wind whistled across the empty summit and I was essentially alone. I could see the shadows of the mountains in the distance and sat down on the bench facing east to await the sunrise (and the masses).
Within twenty minutes, the place was packed of solo travelers and groups that met in the hostel and single Trekkers with guides and big groups with guides from all around the world. All there to see the Annapurna mountain range revealed inch by inch by the arriving daylight of the sun.
Eventually the bench I was on got too crowded and I went to dangle my legs over the edge of the cement platform. I sat next to a girl named Annapurna. At first I thought she was kidding, but she later told me that her parents were avid Trekkers and mountain lovers and that her sisters were named Helena and Holeokolah. She was 18 years old – also a solo Trekker on the circuit for more than 20 days. She had been living in India at a children’s home. I tried to remember if I was that brave at 18, but I know I was not. But it’s not a competition. It's a shared, personal experience and as the sun came up over the mountains, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had hiked alone. In the mountains, through the forest. I had gotten lost. I had gotten sick. I had been too tired to continue. But I did continue.
It was 7:00 when I headed down the thousands of steps back to Ghorepani before starting on my seven hour, 11 miles hike from Ghorepani back to where I had started the week before in Naypol – this time to catch a bus back to Pokahara.
I was tired and sore and dirty and as I walked down the three thousand steps to get to Birinthiina and along the road to Naypol, I could not stop smiling. I was happy.
Lessons Learned
1. Trekking and Backpacking Are Not the Same Thing
When I started the trek from Naypol over a week ago, I expected that this multi-day trek would be similar to backpacking in Yosemite. I knew that I was bringing significantly less, so that would be easier, but many people had large packs – maybe I was missing something. The thing is that the paths and trails that link the Annapurna Base Camp lodges to one another seem to be village walking paths that the Nepali people use to carry their wares, transport wool and wood and chickens from town to town. The towns vary in size from population 4 to population 400 or maybe more. But each town is similar with a few lodges dedicated to the wary Trekker complete with an identical menu of soups, Dahl baat, eggs and pizzas. You have a craving for a food? You likely can get it. You don’t need to suffer through the dehydrated food from a bag for a week. You don’t need to sleep on the floor. Actually you don’t even need to forgo a shower. There are hot showers for free or sometimes for about $1.50 in every lodge. In some, there is even functioning wifi. So while backpacking for five days can often start to wear on your body and your emotional well being, trekking the ABC route in the Himalayas does not feel as hard. Despite the fact that you begin your trek at 1600 feet and end it at over 14,000 or more if you go to the circuit.
2. You Need Less than You Think
I saw people with huge backpacks. Both people that carried their own and those that hired the porter to carry the backpack for them. My question over and over and over again is what they possibly could have had in the backpacks. I took my small green day pack. I carried a sleeping bag, a change of clothes for the night time and some clothes to keep me warm as we went up in altitude (hat, scarf, gloves, base layer and jacket). I brought a change of underwear and socks. I wore the same hiking clothes every day and perhaps had I been going for 18 days instead of 8, I would have liked to have had an extra pair of socks and clothes. But still. These people’s backpacks had to have weighed 30 pounds and be 3 feet tall. Just remember you need less than you think on the mountain and the less you bring, the less you (or that poor porter) has to carry. Just leave the laptop and the iPad and the extra clothes at home. It’s not a fashion show and you are trying to get close to nature. You’ll be ok if you don’t check your email for a few days or weeks.
3. You Will Meet Others Like You
There’s a narcissistic tendency that many of us have – those of us that travel for long periods of time to think that we are special. That we are doing something unique. Likely this is not the case. You will meet many others as you trek. Many of them will be like you. Some will be alone.
Some will be with guides. Some with have guides and porters. Some will be in large groups. Some will be doing this for a long time and others for less than a week. Some will be in Nepal as part of a a longer travel. Others on holidays. But they will be like you in the sense that the mountains called to them and they came to that call. Say “Namaste” as you walk by them or as they walk by you. Smile. Try not to judge and remember that you are not alone.
4. You May Get Lost
If you have decided to go the journey alone. With no guide or with no one else. If you have decided that this is a solo venture, expect to get lost. The path is clear for the most part. Except when it’s not. Despite your map. Despite your asking of other Trekkers. Despite the directions from locals, at some point, you may get lost. This too is part of the journey. When you figure it out, make sure you’ll be able to get somewhere before dark, ask for advice and then stop and look around. You didn’t know you were going to this place on the trek. It’s new and unique. Enjoy the journey.
5. You Will Be Too
There will be a moment while you are trekking when you will be too. . . You will be too hot to continue, you will be too cold to keep watching, too tired to keep climbing, too shaky to keep walking down the thousands of stairs, too hungry to make it to the top or too sick to wait to go to the bathroom in the next town. You will be too tired to climb up to down any more of the stairs that are placed at awkward intervals throughout the whole journey. You will be too . . .
Just stop for a moment where you are – put on some more clothes or take some off. Take a rest and eat a cookie or just sit and sip water and enjoy the scenery. Or use the bathroom when you need and hope that someone doesn’t saunter by.
You will be too . . .but you will also be too late in the adventure to turn around and give up. So you will keep walking and climbing or descending regardless of whether you are too. . .
6. First Time in Nepal
“First time in Nepal?” The shop owner will ask when you buy the pack of cookies. “First time in Nepal?” The old man will ask when you greet him with a “Namaste” as you pass him on the trail. “First time in Nepal?” The women will ask that are sitting on the stoop in the village as you walk through. People will want to know if this is your first time in Nepal. Over and Over and Over again. Tell them the truth. They want you to love their country. They want to be proud of their heritage, culture and natural beauty. They want you to feel welcome whether or not it is your first or your fortieth time in Nepal.
7. This Journey is About You
Try not to compete. This journey is about you. You and the mountain. The mountains are calling – so go to them – be it for 4 or 40 days. Be it alone or with the help of a guide, a porter or some friends.
Try not to judge the others and the way they have decided to respond to the mountain’s call to them.
Their journey is about them. This journey is about you and what you make of it.
8. You Should Take Local Transport
If someone were to have told me what the local bus was going to be like, I might have taken that offer to drive in the cab from Naypol to Pokhara for the $5.00. The local bus cost $1.50 and I loathe being the idea of being ripped off. But then again, I loathe the idea of dying as well. The guy said to me that there were 100 people on the bus. But of course I thought he was exaggerating. If anything, he underestimated how many people could be shoved into the death box on wheels.
I have travelled in many countries. I have taken public transport in Peru, Vietnam, Cambodia, Guatemala, El Salvador, Morocco and Tanzania. I have ridden the bus with roosters. I have trains with goats. I have lain on a bus bed that didn’t allow me to sit up for 13 hours and shared sleeping trains with people who snores so loudly, it sounded like they were sawing wood. I have ridden helmet-less on a motorcycle through the crazy traffic in Kathmandu, Cartagena and Nicaragua.
But nothing I have done for date, could have prepared me for the insanity that was the local bus from Naypol to Pokahara.
The bus pulled onto the side of the road and called those standing on the side of the road. The guy who offered me the taxi, indicated that I should shove my way into the crowd. The bus was slightly smaller than a school bus with a large cage on top holding bags and four or five passengers. There were 10-12 rows of seats inside designed to seat two passengers on each side, for a totally capacity of 30 some odd people max.
I stepped up onto the steps and the money collector indicated I should take off my backpack and shove into the crowd. People stood virtually on top of one another in the aisle. Eight people were packed into the seat next to the driver. People sat on the railings. People stood in every available space like you would on the NYC subway during the early morning commute, the only thing keeping you from pitching to the floor, the sheer quantity of people around you.
The thing is if you have ever ridden the subway during commute time, the quantity of people wasn’t actually the issue. Sure it’s uncomfortable to be pushed up against someone on a bus or train for a long period of time.
But what was scary was the way the bus sped down the road – sometimes paved, sometimes patched, sometimes full of holes or rocks or just suddenly unpaved.
The bus careened around the corners – no guard rails on either side, the edge of the road leading to a cliff that fell hundreds and hundreds of feet to the valley below.
The bus played chicken with other busses, waiting till the last minute before swerving left to avoid the oncoming bus, tractor or motorcycle approaching. Every time getting dangerously close to the edge.
The bus took turns like we were in a NASCAR race, pitching the passengers all to the left and then all to the right. The cliff just inches away.
The Nepali music blared from a speaker above my head. A dog licked my calf. A man stood on my right foot.
I asked the man behind me how far it was to Pokhara. He told me an hour. The two young men next to me told me two hours and the money collector thought it would take 25 minutes.
I took a deep breath in and faced the road and relaxed into the ride. This too was part of the journey.
