'This is not country that must be seen to be believed, but rather believed to be seen': (N Scott Momaday - writing on the American West, but still relevant)
But 2001 - that was going to be a good one...
The itinerary for the Annapurna Circuit October & November 2001
| My thought for 2001 was to
put a group together and trek into the Khumbu, but it didn't prove feasible
- flights were, in theory, fully booked very early on and it was unrealistic
to expect people to make the commitment that I was asking of them in the
time scale I had. Where to go? What to do? The Annapurna Circuit had been
in my mind for some time and since the time scale for this trek is much
the same as Khumbu I could use a ticket that I had. E-mails criss-crossed
the miles between Lincoln and Kathmandu and I was committed... The only
problem (apart from the Royal Family shootings and the Maoists) was that
Dendi had left Shiva Kailash and so wasn't available... 'But don't worry,
Tim, I have got my young nephew Tendi - he is very good - I will tell him
all about you' (!?). And so on Tuesday 30th October I appeared at Heathrow
Airport for the Qatar Airways flight to Doha and on Kathmandu. |
|
There are advantages
in travelling on your own, not least that, as a photographer, you can
go off and 'do your own thing' without worrying about other people. It
was fate that my arrival coincided with full moon. Walking to the Kathesymbhu
temple that first evening I found festivities in full swing, and the next
morning, in Durbar Square I found the same thing. Packing for the trek
was interrupted by photography, meeting Tendi and getting back into Nepal
mode. It was obvious from the start that there would be no problems with
young Tendi. I'm always a bit nervous with new people but the ice was
soon broken. The conversation began: 'Ah, Tendi, your Uncle Dendi has
told me all about you!'. 'Oh, yes, sir, he has told me all about You!'.
Oh, dear. 'How old are you Tendi?'. 'Twenty-one, sir'. 'I'm old enough
to be your father, aren't I? And stop calling me 'sir''. 'There are no
problems. I will call you 'Papa''. |
| On the Friday morning breakfast
was early, as Tendi arrived with the 'Land Cruiser' at 7.00am. The drive
to Dumre (1,444') was as gentle as it can be, once we were clear of the
Kathmandu valley: we were there by 11.30. My guide books (not all that old)
gave dire warnings about the drive to Besisahar (2,700'). I was to be pleasantly
surprised: instead of a dirt track the road was good 'blacktop' and by 2.00pm
we were there. (Sorry, 'we' means a fifty-something, overweight, balding,
photographer, a 21 year old guide [Tendi] and a 25 year old porter [Nuri],
who was having a 'holiday' from real portering and running his farm by carrying
for me). We started the trek properly the next morning, an early start taking
us up the new road along the Marsyangdi, before we crossed the river onto
a 'short cut' avoiding Khudi. Lunch was at Bhulbhule and we made Ngadi (3,051'),
our first nights stop, by 2.30pm. (A short day, OK, but the first days of
any trek always seems hard - and it was hot). Our next day took us up the
hill to Bahundanda, a pleasant climb without the morning sun, and then down
again, but now in the sun, and onwards to Syange, taking us into the first
of the Marsyangdi gorges. It was hot, and by Syange I was suffering. A proud
man might resist the offer to have his rucksack carried; I eventually gave
in and was glad to reach Jagat (4,311'). On day three was more (hot) up
and downs through the gorge, but the arrival in Tal, in its' silted up lake
bed, made up for the hardship. This is a strange place, the most southerly
in Manang district, and with clear Buddhist influences. Here you realize
that you are approaching the mountains. From Tal the trail finds a way through
canyons, crossing and re-crossing the river, and passing the famed 'Hotel
Dorchester' before arriving at Dharapani (6,375'). The afternoon walk was
spoilt by low cloud and drizzle - fortunately this cooled things down for
us, but the weather seemed to be changing. A little way on from Dharapani
the trail comes in from the Larkya La on the Manaslu circuit. We had met
a number of groups finishing this adventurous trek, but from now almost
all the travellers we would see would be going in our direction. On this
fourth day of walking we again would be making lots of little ascents and
descents as we passed through yet more of the gorge. The weather was threatening
and as we walked into Chame (8,901') the temperature was dropping noticeably
and snow seemed possible. Chame... I knew there was something about Chame
when I saw a lodge owner with a large rat trap. My lodge (no names, no pack
drill) was by the river and was upmarket - there was a large boulder in
my room with the beds built round it. There were gaps around it and I thought
I saw something scurrying... Oh well, leave some biscuit crumbs out for
it. (In case anybody is wondering, I can think of two other lodges that
I've stopped in that have had rats about). (A report on
nepalnews.com in December 2006 refers to the opening of a road
to Chame) |
|
The next morning
was overcast but reasonably fine - a little bit warmer than the previous
day, but there had been some snow and we wondered what the day would bring.
Walking through pine forest we came to Bhratang and shortly after this
we crossed the river and started a wearisome climb. The threat of snow
had receded, but the pine branches still carried some which tried to fall
down our necks. Eventually we came to a view of the Manang or Nyesyang
valley; a flat-bottomed, broad, arid valley, but with a covering of stunted
pines and low-growing juniper. To the north rose Pisang Peak (19,984').
The gentle downhill walk to Pisang (10,450') was a pleasure - there was
a feeling that, after the days of plodding up the tracks through the gorge,
we were getting somewhere. We arrived soon after lunch and, after the
obligatory mug (or two) of hot lemon I explored. Pisang (and its near
neighbour of Upper Pisang) were a delight - the photographs justified
the effort. Pisang is one of those places which I feel 'give the lie'
to the guidebooks. You can make lots of plans, or have lots of ideas,
looking at the guide at home, but when you get there the realities start
to take over. I had thought that, if I was going well I would take the
'upper route' from Pisang to Manang. Yes, I was going well, but suddenly
the desire to do it seemed to go - why waste energy when the lower route
was so delightful? The walk to Manang (11,650') was another short day,
with little altitude gain. We walked at first was through pine forests,
then the valley opened out, with the mountains of the Annapurna Himal
forming a great wall to the south. At Manang altitude starts to take effect
and you are advised to spend at least two nights here, to try and get
accustomed to it. And what to do whilst you acclimatize? You could sit
around drinking beer and eating apple pie, chatting up the girls with
stories of your past (or future) exploits in Phuket, but really you should
go for a walk. There are a number of walks, of varying length available
from Manang. On the north side of the valley are a number of gompa, and
you can also walk back to Braga to visit the gompa there. To the south
a sharp drop into the valley is followed by a sharper climb up to a pine
clad ridge with views back to the south east - there is a tea shop on
top. (Similar views can also be gained by walking up to Tengi, which you
walk through on the way to the Thorung La). Another walk is up towards
Tilicho lake. The lake is too far away to visit in a day, but the village
of Khangsar is worth visiting. I had hoped to get to Khangsar, but unfortunately
had to settle for 'Pine ridge'; but I did get involved in a local funeral
- a very moving experience. All trekkers heading for the Thorung La should
take the opportunity to visit one of the lectures held most afternoons
by the medical staff of the Himalayan
Rescue Association. These talks will probably scare the pants off
you, but they are important as they do reinforce the need to acclimatize
properly, and tell you of the symptoms of altitude sickness. (They may
also point out that older, larger trekkers may adapt better than younger,
slimmer ones; but we knew that already...). Incidentally there is an information
point at Manang. You would probably be as relieved as I was to see a large
sign saying 'Thorung La is Open: Enjoy!'. |
| As you leave Manang you are
psyched up for the climb to the Thorung La, and the sensible way is to do
it slowly, taking two days to reach Thorung Phedi. The walk takes you uphill
through Tengi, but in the morning, certainly, you look back at the fine
retrospective view over Manang, with the sun shining through the smoke rising
from the village. After the initial stiff climb the walking became easier,
on a well made track. The views in all directions were good; blue sheep
could be seen on the hillsides, and there were also yaks to be seen. There
are a number of tea houses and lodges along the way. People seem to take
Letdar as the overnight stop on this section, but we stopped at little short
at Yak Kharka (13,018')(Very cold, Yak Kharka). Depending on how you are
going you may push on to Letdar, but you won't save a lot by doing do, as
the next days' walk to Thorung Phedi is short: only three hours. (Incidentally
the walk to Yak Kharka is probably the last day when you'll feel you want
to walk in shorts - although I did see [New Zealand] trekkers wearing them
on the way to Thorung Phedi). This walk is easy, but altitude is taking
its effect. It is worth noting that the track divides some distance short
of Thorung Phedi, the old track dropping off to the river. This was the
path that Tendi and I followed and it is easy, except for one or two places
where there have been landslips. The new path keeps its height, but then
drops steeply to the river on zigzags and climbs to Thorung Phedi (14,534').
These zigzags look as if they could be treacherous after snow. There are
lodges at Thorung Phedi (quite good ones, too) but a thousand feet or so
up a scree slope are the huts of Thorung 'High Camp' - Tendi said that this
was a cold place, and we stopped at the lower. There are 'pro's' and 'cons'
over which one to stop at. High Camp is cold and and (I thought) rather
dirty - but it does save you a cold, dark climb up the scree in the early
morning. Thorung Phedi is nicer, probably warmer, but you have that climb
in the dark. (You can, if you like stop at Thorung Phedi and walk up to
'High Camp' for a drink, returning to the lower altitude to sleep). Having
been filled full of horror stories about acclimatization problems you may
find that evening rather stressful - will you get up? Will I have to ride
up? (Horror, horror). Will my companions be able to get up? The only thing
to do is sit back, drink your tea and try not to worry. (If this seems a
little flippant: no, I was worried too, and as much about the 5,000' descent
as the 3,000' climb, and I had seen altitude sickness at Gokyo in 1992).
When do you start? 3.00am, 4.00, 5.00? 10.00? You don't want to be too early
because of the dark and the cold, but you don't want to be too late, because
it is a long day. Nuri woke me with tea at 3.30am, when I was in the middle
of a dream in deep sleep. We got away from Thorung Phedi at 4.45 and joined
the long crocodile of trekkers and porters climbing up the scree. The climb
was not as long as it seemed, but it went on for long enough. Fortunately
'High Camp' arrived at the right time, and with it a welcome hot drink.
When we set off again (at 6.05am) it was in the half light of dawn - it
was cold, yes, but I've been colder in the English mountains in winter.
There was a little ice, and some snow. You plod on, going at your best,
steady speed. Eventually the sun's rays touch the first mountains and you
suddenly realise that day is coming. You realize too that, if there is snow,
you're going to be glad that you've got snow goggles. We found the track
easy to follow, but there was little snow. If there had been more, then
it would have been different, but there were so many people on the trail
that the trail would have been easily trodden down. The trail traverses
rocky slopes, crossing moraine ridges and all the time working a way upwards.
After an hour or so there is another welcome halt at a hut, serving tea,
coffee, hot lemon, rum and (hot) chocolate cake! (It is worth remembering
that this hut [in 2001, at least] did not offer beds - as some trekkers
found to their dismay: they ended up walking back to Thorung High Camp for
the night). (I have been asked to point out, for legal reasons,
that I did not actually taste the cake - a friend was once given chocolate
cake stuffed with garlic. TJH) As you walk on there are many false cols
to cross and you may wonder if you're ever going to get there. I found,
though, the entire walk a joy. I had acclimatized reasonably well and I
was well equipped against the cold. Around me there was the grandeur of
the high mountains, and there was the realization that we were higher than
the summit of Mont Blanc. It was good to be alive. Eventually the summit
col came into view, with a large, untidy cairn with many streamers of prayer
flags, and another tea hut. As we walked up Tendi spotted pug marks off
to the left - snow leopard? We reached the summit (17,732') at 8.32am. It
is traditional to leave prayer flags on high passes - the wind, touching
the prayers, is blessed, and goes on to bless everything that it touches.
On this day, November 12th 2001, as the Northern Alliance entered Kabul,
it was perhaps apposite that I should offer a prayer that this blessing
be so, and that Peace should come to our tattered and divided world. (And,
revising this in January 2003, with more talk of wars, and rumours of wars,
I can think of no better reason to go back - to put some more flags in the
high places). |
| The descent to Muktinath
was easy but long, some 5,000' in total and for anyone who doesn't like
going downhill it could be a purgatory. Snow had fallen and thawed, but
a thin film of ice had formed on some of the ledges. (I have in front of
me an unused film cartridge - bent beyond salvage when I slipped on one
of these ledges and sat on it). I know some people got down a lot quicker,
but it took Tendi and myself five hours to drop down to Muktinath, although
this included a lunch stop, and also plenty of time for photography and
just looking at the views. It is a fact that the best views are often not
from the summit of the pass but from lower down. As we dropped so the views
opened up: the Kali Gandaki valley becomes visible, but it wasn't that that
drew my eye - it was the views across into lonely Mustang, and across to
the mountains of Dolpo, and even further towards Jumla. The valley of the
Dzong Khola becomes visible, and then on a ridge - Jharkot, and the realisation
that you will soon join onto what you trekked in 1997. And finally, Muktinath
is in sight, and that the day's journey will soon be over. Nuri appeared
from nowhere - he'd left at the same time as Tendi and myself but had reached
Muktinath by 9.00am, and looked disgustingly fresh ('But Tim, there is no
need for a rest day at Muktinath - Nuri will have rested' - 'Yes, Tendi,
but what about Papa ... he will need to rest' - 'Oh, yes. Sorry'). It was
a relief to be in Muktinath (12,500'). This had been our target in 1997
when we failed so narrowly and soon I would be joining familiar tracks.
There was a certain satisfaction to reaching it, both as a physical place,
but also in its spiritual sense as a place of pilgrimage. Many pilgrims
will come up the Kali Gandaki, of course, and their trail is a good one,
but our route, with its trials and tribulations was so much better. Tendi
did not, perhaps, appreciate how important it was to me to be here, and
to visit the sacred groves. The next morning, after one of those wonderful
spontaneous evenings of friendship and entertainment that can only 'happen'
and not be created, he walked with Nuri and myself the short distance up
the hill to Muktinath proper. I was happy that morning to let the experience
flow over me: to wander, to look, to listen to Narayan Dotta Suvedi, the
resident sadhu, and to receive his blessing, and to take photographs. No
more can be said - this is one of those places that must be believed in
order to be seen. |
| The descent to the valley
of the Kali Gandaki (or Thak Khola) was one of those downhill walks where
you lose height very quickly, but very gently, and where you keep looking
back. The moment when you round a spur and find you can no longer turn and
see Muktinath is a sad one. To me this land is magical. There was beauty
all around as we dropped into a land of contrasts. Jharkot on it's ridge
made a wonderful foreground, with the snow covered mountains to the west
of the Kali Gandaki as a backdrop. The hillsides seemed barren, but there
were apple orchards and peach trees. Irrigation streams fed the fields:
yaks could be seen hauling ploughs. The gorge of the Dzong Khola is deep
and narrow; former cave dwellings can be seen in it's cliffs. It would be
easy to think that you are on the Tibetan plateau as you look across at
the yellow ochre slopes, bare of vegetation. We reached Kagbeni (9,200')
by lunch time. I find Kagbeni a paradox - welcoming, but also threatening.
There are irrigation streams feeding orchards and fields, and the place
is clean and (at first glance) reasonably rich. The old village is different
though, narrow passages run between the houses and little side alleys, with
snarling dogs, lead you away from the main route. There are threatening
statues of guardian deities, whilst some of the houses, and the old fort
('dzong') are starting to crumble, and you wonder what it must be like to
live here. Probably OK if you've got the money, but if you're poor... I
made my way through the village until a view opened out to the north, up
the valley of the Kali Gandaki, towards Mustang. There is a long mani wall
and at the end an open platform; to the right is the police 'check post'.
This is the entry to Mustang proper: unless you have a permit you may go
no further. I had no permit. (It is worth saying though, that if you can't
get to Mustang, this area may probably do just as well. Very few trekkers
stray from the main trail: there are the villages around Muktinath and on
the West side of the Kali Gandaki to look at, and there are other ways up
the Kali Gandaki from Kalopani. Think about it, go, but don't spoil it for
the rest of us, please. Incidentally, if there is a road into Mustang from
the Tibetan side, things are going to change there anyway.) |
| That afternoon passed quickly
and the next morning brought the realisation that I would, in effect, be
on the homeward lap, even through there were nine days trekking left. We
left Kagbeni and turned towards the lowlands. There then came the dreadful
discovery that I had half a reel of film left in the camera and no spare
on me, for a day that would offer good photography. (Fortunately I was able
to buy more in Jomosom where, incidentally, it was possible to send e-mails
home). I was in no mood to hurry. The walk from Kagbeni to Jomosom (or vice
versa) is easy and spectacular, constantly changing and with side valleys
and villages that must be worth going back to, to explore properly. The
feeling as I left the gravel beds and started to walk across the flats to
Jomosom was one of sorrow and regret. (As an aside, there is no road from
Kagbeni down the Kali Gandaki - this was just wishful thinking on the part
of some novice trekkers who thought that once they'd crossed the Thorung
La they'd done the Annapurna Circuit , and could get a bus back to Pokhara
from Kagbeni. My good friend Les Peel assures me that when he trekked here
in Spring 1983, [what must it have been like to have trekked here then?],
some people in the party thought they'd finished when they walked south
from Marpha). Jomosom had changed. I remembered it as dirty, with a rutted
path through the centre. Money has been invested here: the path is now paved
and buildings spread along both sides of it for much further than they did
in 1997. The airport had been rebuilt and the runway resurfaced. To my surprise
there were at least six agricultural tractors to be seen, together with
a 'JCB' excavator - all presumably brought in in bits, slung below helicopters.
What had not changed though was the wind, and the three of us walked to
Marpha in the face of a very strong wind; possibly the worst weather conditions
that we experienced on the circuit. Once we reached Marpha though, the wind
disappeared as we walked into the narrow streets of the village. |
| Marpha has changed, and possibly
not for the better. The place still has the narrow paved streets which can
be roofed over in winter, and the place was clean and the hotels were good.
Signs like 'Marpha Shopping Complex' jarred rather, and the 'Night Club'
with the sheep's' head (with cigarette) went a little too far. (Although
Tendi & Nuri enjoyed the pool table). What I had forgotten was that
the light would go quickly here, and photography was not really possible.
Although we still had over a week of trekking left it is easy to get complacent
and to think that the journey is almost over. The long, easy walk down the
valley of the Kali Gandaki does lull one into a false sense of security. |
| From Marpha the walk, at
least for the next day, was simple - just following the river valley and
gradually losing height. There were many more trekkers and, of course, the
continual pony trains moving up and down the valley. Lunch was at Larjung
- more developed now than I remembered from 1997, and then we made our way
across the river and down to Kalopani. Kalopani again was 'developed', but
the only problem was that there were no (or few) trekkers. The money invested
in the tourist infrastructure was producing a poor return. For personal
reasons I wanted to avoid stopping at Tatopani, and so the next day we finished
our walk at Dana. A strange walk, this one, where having been lulled into
a false sense of security by the gentleness of the days in the upper valley,
you suddenly find yourself going up and down again. First the comparatively
gentle stretch of trail down to Ghasa, and then on a trail high above the
river before a dusty drop down to Kopchepani (Made worse by ponies in the
thousands coming up). It was along here that I noticed graffiti supporting
the Maoist movement - the first of the trek. Further along the trail had
been washed away and so there was a scramble over boulders before arriving
at Dana. I was very tired that evening, and had problems sleeping, despite
the beer and fresh apple pie. Is it a coincidence that this was the one
place where the sleeping mat was inadequate and I had to use my own? |
| Tatopani is a dump. Well,
that's my opinion, and if you don't like it, tough. (In 1985 I was told:
Namche is a dump - it still is). My plan was to walk through Tatopani and
press on up the hill towards Sikha and Chitre. It didn't quite work out
like that as we couldn't find anywhere decent for lunch below Sikha (but
there is, because I've stopped there - but lodges alter from year to year,
don't forget). So it was a late lunch and then a short walk up towards Phalante
for a lodge for the night. This was the third time I've walked up this hill
- it doesn't get any less steep. The photographs are still there, and with
good light there are good shots everywhere. The villages here are not as
sophisticated as might be expected. Is it now that they are ignored to a
degree with many people trekking out from Tatopani along the Kali Gandaki
to Beni? And so next morning up the hill to Ghorapani for lunch. I suppose
it must be a sign of my natural contrariness that I did not bother to climb
to the summit of Poon Hill that afternoon or the next morning, preferring
to do my photography from the lower slopes. It was good to be back, though,
and to see the snow mountains, missing from the dusty country around Muktinath,
and to see trees and fields. |
|
It would be nice to say that the next (last) three and a bit days were a superb end to a superb trek. They weren't. I had caught a cold and was suffering, but more and more I was aware that this is an overtrekked area. My memories take me back to 1985 when we were one of the first groups to trek from Ghorapani to Tadapani and Ghandrung. It is still a good walk, through good hill scenery, but it is not trekking. Go if you must, enjoy it you will, but it is not trekking. (Possibly it would have been better to have gone 'down the hill' from Ghorepani to Birethanti, or taken the low level route from Tatopani to Beni, after spending more time in the Muktinath area). And so, a last night at Dhampus with a 'party' and 'baksheesh' and raksi and singing, and then, next morning, that last packing of the kitbag, which seems to close a lot easier than it had at Besisahar three weeks before. There's a road to Besisahar now, but the old trail is still there, steeply down the hill side and after 21 days on the trail you can feel slightly superior to those struggling up. There will be sadness, too, because you know that the trek is ending and soon you will be saying 'Good-bye' to Tendi and Nuri. Tendi, you know, has no more work until January, and Nuri will be returning to his wife and children on the farm. At Suikhet Phedi you hear the sound of motor horns and find yourself fighting back tears, and then there's just time for a quick drink before we squeeze into a taxi for the ride into Pokhara and 'Good-bye's' and a room with a bed and a hot (sorry, lukewarm) shower and a beer and tea and a walk through strangely deserted streets. Strangely deserted, because there are very few visitors there and, frighteningly, the Maoists have called an end to the ceasefire and all hell is about to break loose. But you don't know that then, and you're content to walk about town with a strange expression on your face, and go into an internet cafe and send 'I made it', and sit and drink beer and think about the next time ... |
The itinerary for the Annapurna Circuit October & November 2001
return to Photrek Main Index: return to 'Trek Reports'
'The Wonder of the World, the Beauty and the Power, the Shapes of Things, their Colours, Lights and Shades; these I saw. Look Ye also, while Life Lasts'. ('BB': Denys Watkins-Pitchford)
Revised TJH 22/02/2007