Thorung La 5416 m. Day 18

Nope. Not getting out of bed yet. It was still dark out and cold. I had no idea what time it was. Could have still been the middle of the night and with Cujo on the loose I was staying put. No need to take unnecessary risks now.

Beep beep beep beep!!!

"Hey Kevin, it's time to wake up." It was our 5 AM alarm.
"How much time do we have?"
"30 minutes to breakfast."

In the dining hall we over heard people complaining about not having slept. This is known to happen at high altitude. I asked Kevin, "How'd you sleep?"
"Great, you?"
"Like a baby."
It was obvious we had acclimated just fine. Looking around, we noticed how tired, or worse, pissed everyone looked.

The trail offered us no warm up. It went up, up, up. The book said today would take 4 to 5 hours to reach the pass. Just shy of 18000 feet (5416 meters) that seemed accurate. There were switchbacks, snow and ice. In a short amount of time, the sun crested over the mountains to the east. There really is no way to describe the beauty of a Himalayan sunrise in full force; massive peaks silhouetted against a sky of cerulean blue. I guess we kept a brisk pace, passing people on the ascent who had left well before us. Yeah, now they know why we eat so much...

Before we knew it, the trail had leveled out. It rolled through snow past trail markers. We were sun warmed and sure of our success. Prayer flags on the horizon marked the high point...shortly enough, we were there. We made it in 2 hours 20 minutes...speedy to say the least. I wandered off to look around and take some photos and video. Off by myself I started thinking of what it took to get to that pass.

I'd love to say that it only took us a few weeks, but honestly it took me half my life. At 14 I fell in love with the mountains. I was at Mt Hood and an inversion was occurring. The clouds below me looked like a turbulent sea, fresh snow glistened in the sun like a field of diamonds. I had to be in the mountains from there on out. My parents, always supportive, helped me along the way. This path had me moving from state to state, climbing peaks, missing peaks, meeting people, illness, injury...but I never wanted to leave. Each positive outcome followed by, "if this is possible, what else is possible?" Success has the power to erase all memory of failure and pain. I've been shut down, bruised, scraped, broken, dislocated, terrified, fell down an icy face, concussed, furious, and downright insulted... but for the moments when things go correctly, it is all worth it. I stood there thinking about all this, looking around realizing there isn't any place that feels more like home. Hot shower aside, I wasn't in a rush to leave.

What lay on the other side of the pass? Muktinath, for one. Yak steak, sizzling pizza, fresh juice, cheap beer. Down below us are roads and vehicles (we haven't seen a car in weeks), western toilets and Internet. Thorung La is not just a high pass separating the Annapurna Circuit into two parts. It is a turning point. On one side (part 1) we found ourselves going back in time. The valley has yet to be marred by roads and disturbed by engine noises. Life moves only as quickly as one can move it by foot or mule. The other side (part two) shows what the future of Nepal holds. The feelings associated with the development is a mixed bag. Ease of life for locals but less long term travelers due to road travel. This equals less income for hotels, porters, businesses. For trekkers, the magic associated with part 1 dies the second you start down from the pass. Many people call it quits at or shortly after Muktinath. Roads will open up more day hike possibilities, but long term hiking is less appealing.

I can not say what is right for this country. Not my place to do so. I will return to climb here in the future, seems Kevin might too. When we return, this area will be vastly different. We are both happy to have been able to see it now before more blasting occurs. For now though, it is one small step at a time down the pass followed by the amenities of Muktinath.

Second Cheapest Room (Day 17)

It was another short day as we made our way from Yak Kharka to Thorung Phedi. The Lonely Planet guidebook claimed it would take three hours but Krissy and I finished it in a little over two. We've talked about this and we agreed that we're both built for going uphill. We seem to garner some astonished looks from people as we pass them uphill, only to have the same people breeze past us on the descent. I can admit that I'm certainly the slowest downhill since I have the knees of an 80 year old.

But, there being no downhill portions of today's walk, it was all glory. It was also a good thing we slept in and had a late breakfast. After checking into the Thorung Bas Camp Hotel and eating lunch, we didn't have much to do. We did marvel at the building and the food we were served. It all seemed better than most guest houses we'd stayed at before, which is strange, because many people assured us that that lodges above Manang were basic at best.

After marveling, we passed time reading, chatting with other hotel patrons, playing chess and eating. We've both been eating a lot. That's what people notice about us: how fast we walk uphill and how much we eat.

It was cold that night and our room was too. When we first showed up the hotel proprietor* asked us what kind of room we wanted. "Whatever's cheapest," was my response. So he put us in the room past the icy hallway, next to the kitchen and across from Cujo's holding pen. So, as we slid into our rooms for the night, we were able to hear all the clamour of the kitchen. Since it was so noisy in there, the kitchen staff would step outside to answer their phones (cell phone coverage is amazing in this country) and yell "HELLO?! HELLO???! HELLO!?!?" (but it has it's limits). This would of course disturb Cujo from his most likely tranquilizer assisted slumber. So what we heard was something like this: BARK!! HELLO!!?? SNARRRRL! HELLO?!?! (pots banging) HELLO?!?! BARK!! BARK!!! (more random kitchen clamour).

Next time I'll ask for the second cheapest room.

* I use this term loosely. You can never tell who runs the hotel or even who works there. Usually if you stand around looking confused long enough someone will offer a "namaste" and reveal themselves as someone who can help you.

Two American Bandits. Day 16

Ever get the feeling that someone is on the lookout for you?

Breakfast was ordered and in came the hotel manager/ATM man looking flustered... Then relieved. "Oh Kristen and Kevin. I've found you..." he went on to explain that through a mix up, or more like a missing zero or so, that he had ran Kevin's card for only 2,200 rupees instead of 22,000 rupees. He had called "all over" looking for "The Two Americans." He was even carrying around the photocopies of our passports. I imagined him asking, "have you seen them?" No one could assist him as to our whereabouts. Unaware that we were staying at his hotel, he was sure that he was now going to be about $250 USD in the hole. Much to Kevin's dismay (he almost accidentally made money on this trip) went along with him to remedy the problem.

I'd love to say that the day was action packed, but it wasn't. Officially, we were leaving Manang, and would not be returning again during his trip. There is no other way to put it, we were ear to ear grinning at the thought of our departure. Nothing against Manang, it is a great town, but both Kevin and I were more than ready to move our trip in a positive direction (towards the land of hot showers and cheap food).

Today would be a fairly short day. Due to altitude and the risks of AMS, HACE and HAPE (altitude illness, brain edema, lung edema respectively) today would only require a maximum of four hours, all uphill. During the hours of hiking - it only took us 3- we came along a trail character. Near Gunsang, we met an old man with a whip.

Allow me to describe the scene to you... We're in an area I would call "No Man's Land." The trail we are on is like a dead end highway through high alpine desert, taking travelers only to smaller and smaller towns and eventually a high pass. The feel is slightly cowboy-ish, locals sporting leather hats Crocodile Dundee would aspire to wearing. This old man looked to be about 100 years old, my height, heavily wrinkled, five teeth.

He stopped us in our quest to look at the goods he was selling. Actually, Kevin made it through scot free. I put out my hands while protesting, "Oh no, I don.."
"Oh look! LOOK! LOOK!" he exclaimed while grabbing my hands, placing them on his hat and planting his face firmly against my chest. I lost it, this was too funny. Laughing, I realized that to an outsider it would look like I had grabbed this old man's head and was pressing his face against my boobs.

Upon arrival at Yak Kharka a woman, and I'd expect owner of the first lodge in town, welcomed us and we were given a key to a little pink cottage. With a few clicks of the lock and a push of the double doors there it was... The honey moon suite? We laughed again, was much larger than my tent so we didn't mind, plus it was extremely cheap. "Yak chili rice," Kevin had spotted a sign with food items.
"More like yak danger rice. Think I'll wait till we are up and over the pass for that one."
"Me too," Kevin agreed.

Earth Day, Birthday, Easy Day (Day 15)

Today was a nice short day. Well deserved after our efforts yesterday. We began the morning by having a huge pot of tea because we were both feeling dehydrated and the water source was frozen. We must have had close to a dozen cups each. That much tea was completely necessary to both quench our thirst and wash down a pair of god-awful pancakes that we each ordered. Fried on the outside and pure dough in the middle. Scrumptious.

We were ready to hit the trail and get back to the metropolis of Manang after that unfortunate culinary fiasco. So we walked quickly, said little and had an uneventful trip back to Hotel Yeti where we had reserved a room for yet another night. It didn't take Krissy and I long to figure out that we were ready to leave this valley and head over Thorung La pass. We were thinking about doing another side trip in the area but things are expensive on this side (relative to Nepal) and honestly we were just ready to see something new. So tomorrow we would resume progress on the Annapurna Circuit after a week's hiatus with our destination being Yak Kharka*

Oh, and Krissy bought me a slice of cake and a slice of pie for my 29th birthday today. What a nice gal. That was really all the celebrating I did and really it was plenty. This trip is enough of a birthday present for me since there is little else on Earth** I would rather be doing.

* When Australians say the town's name it sounds like Yak ka-ka and it makes Krissy giggle uncontrollably.
** Happy Earth Day!

Highest lake and death drops. Day 14

We awoke to a sucker hole in the sky. It was seated directly above us. It was 530 AM, and it was still damn cold. We sprung to life, throwing on boots and puffy jackets and headed to breakfast. Fed and happy, donning our trekking poles and gaiters, we headed out. I must admit, I feel like a goof when I have gaiters on but they are an amazing piece of gear. We traversed while gaining altitude for an hour. From our hotel that resembled more of a prison camp to the World's Highest Lake would require gaining 900 meters of elevation. At the top we'd reach 5100 meters (just over 16500 feet). We hit switchbacks and snow in an hour. One more hour and we were on a ridge. We walked around on that ridge for a little while, putting in a bootpack and being pelted by increasing gusts of wind. To be honest, we never saw he lake. It lies frozen, covered in snow for almost the whole year. We saw where the lake would be, large icefall from the surrounding mountains touched the flat surface of the snow. Our sucker hole stuck with us almost entirely. We turned around. The HRA doctors were on the switchbacks as we descended. They were concerned about weather. We had timed it perfectly (I am learning that everything in life is about timing) and made it back to base camp, sun still shining, in time for lunch.

Not wishing to freeze for another night, we quickly paid our bill and headed down the valley. We passed through the infamous (and signed) landslide zone again, problem free and snowflakes started falling. Luckily enough, this was not meant to be an epic quest in a blizzard. It fell slowly and gracefully.

Mom: stop reading here (never works right?)

One interesting part of the day, (as if it wasn't good enough) included what I have been calling the death ledge. Coming back to Shree Kharka, we chose a high trail instead of the low trail we used to head up valley. We passed a couple who seemed very relieved (hindsight it all adds up, they just got passed what we were about to encounter). The trail quickly dropped from the ridge line, making a quick zig and a steep zag, ledging out above a sheer cliff. I said, "SHEER PRECIPICE!" to Kevin, before realizing how nuts this was going to get. A recent landslide had torn through this gully, ripping a suspension bridge from where it was built. Metal cable remnants hung down the cliff opposite us; a grim reminder of what Mother Nature is capable. We dipped down and both realized that the trail was about hip wide, cliff uphill and oblivion on the downhill side. Not only that, it was also covered in fine little pebbles that acted like ball bearings...like some cruel individual (rascally Mother Nature) had greased up the trail. When heading uphill, this isn't as difficult. Downhill is a different thing. You have to keep you weight over your hips or even a little more forward. If you are back at all, your feet will slip out from under you. It occurred to me, "if you mess up here, you could die." Of course at this point there is also no turning back, it is far too narrow a spot for that. Slow, decisive movements were our best friend. Erosion had removed two separate spots and the only option was to bear bug the uphill cliff while getting a foot to the next spot of ledge. Obviously, we both survived and afterwards looked up and remarked how f-ed up it was. Everywhere along this trail are signs, "beware of this," or "trichy that." Nowhere did we see a sign, "life threatening death cliff," or "outcome unknown, please turn back." May not have been able to check off being trapped by snow, but we can sure as hell check off Nepali cliffhanger.

Today was a long day. Total elevation gain 1100 meters, loss was 1400 meters. Topped out at 5100 meters. Hiked several, yet unknown kilometers/miles.

13,665 Feet (Day 13)

We left Khangsar fairly early with the hopes of reaching Tilicho Base Camp. After yesterday's snowstorm, it was nice to see some sunshine. Already, last night's accumulation was hardly noticeable.

The further from the village we traveled the more the landscape turned to wilderness. It was only Krissy and I, birds and the occasional yak herd for a long expanse of time.

After about 45 minutes of walking we came across Thare Gompa. It's a fairly large, brightly colored temple that has been around for centuries. Krissy and I spun the prayer wheels (including the six footer in the separate chorten) and left five rupee donations to help with the upkeep of the place (donations are also hinted to provide a safe journey to Tilicho Tal).

I really liked the place. It was quiet and sunny with spectacular mountain views. Melting snow pleasantly dripped off the roof. Junipers surrounded the site and gave it some welcoming shade. Despite not being very spiritual myself I could feel an overarching sense of peace. Whoever chose to build the gompa there picked a good spot.

We left and continued ascending up the trail. We passed a guest house where we recognized some HRA doctors (including Hazel) who were having a tea break. They were also headed to Tilicho. Past that, I spotted a small herd of musk deer. It was neat to see. They are somewhat rare because of extensive hunting. Apparently their namesake musk gland is worth a lot of money. They look fairly different than the deer I'm used to. They are a bit smaller, have short, single pronged antlers and the males have tusks that protrude from their mouths like fangs.

Following that excitement was pleasant but mundane trail walking for almost two hours before we reached the infamous scree slopes. To give a little perspective, there are two ways to Tilicho. The less frequently used "high route" is touted as being the safer of the two, but safety comes with a tiring cost. It gains nearly 600 meters of elevation over soul grinding switchbacks and then loses that same 600 meters of elevation descending down knee grinding switchbacks. It takes an hour longer than the scree slope route.

The scree slope route is of course more direct, but a Nepali sign warns that it can be "trichy." Lonely Planet goes even further to add a special warning about this section of trail:

WARNING - UNSTABLE SCREE SLOPES The narrow and scary trail to the Tilicho Base Camp Hotel crosses some extremely unstable scree slopes. It is easily the most dangerous section of trail on the Annapurna Circuit and we do not recommend this side trip for inexperienced trekkers. If there is snow or rain the route can be treacherous.

Wow, huh? So Krissy and I prepared for anything and when we start walking through it I'm as nervous as my first trip along a sidewalk-less street in Kathmandu. But then I think: "Is this it?" On many rock climbing and mountaineering trips I've traveled along scarier sections of trail (sorry Mom). I look down and see a nice safe, soft run-out. If I fell, I'd just be annoyed that I had to climb back up to the trail.

I say to Krissy, " Maybe it's just because I take more risks than the average trekker, but this doesn't seem very 'trichy' to me."

She felt the same. We still proceeded cautiously and would stop to watch the occasional pebble go whizzing past. Now more relaxed, we both really enjoyed this part of the hike. It wound around curious wind and water swept rock formations that crouched above and below us like gargoyles.

Immediately following the scree slopes we saw the two pitiful structures of Tilicho Base Camp. After another fifteen minutes we were in "town" trying to decide which hovel to stay at. We looked at the Tilicho Base Camp Hotel first. Our choices for lodging was a dorm room or a room with three beds. Not wanting to get stuck with snorers and unsure if we would randomly get stuck with some stranger, we decided to look at the Hotel Khangsar Kang. It had a room with two beds and that made our decision for us.

We dropped our packs in the room and had a bite to eat for lunch. After all this walking my appetite finally returned! (It had been absent since I was ill). While eating, we chatted with some Israelis who told us that they had arrived yesterday during the heavy snowfall. They had a hard time staying on the trail and often described it is as scary.

The HRA doctors arrived and had also decided to stay at the Khangsar, so they joined us at our table. One of the Israeli guys moved over towards us and joined in on our conversation. For the next five hours neither Krissy nor I moved from our seat. That Israeli guy had us all in stitches with one crazy story after the other. He was a riot.

I lied. I got up from my seat to use the bathroom once and I was pretty surprised to see what was called a toilet. There was a loose framework of wooden beams that was even more loosely wrapped with sheet plastic. You could shut the "door" but really there was no point. Inside the stucture is best left vacant of a description.

The whole building was really representative of slap-dash technique. Stack some rocks here slather some mud there staple some plastic and loosely rest some glass in a grame and call it good. Flooring? No time. Throw some styrofoam over mud. Strangely, the doors had some nice ornate woodwork on them. Clearly the hotel owner has his priorities.

At 13,665 feet, the night got cold. The holes in the mud morter and the tears in the plastic allowed frequent drafts and the occasional snowflake to add to the ambiance of cold. I went to bed wearing all the clothes I had, in my sleeping bag and under two blankets. I was cursing myself for bringing my 15 degree bag instead of my 0 degree bag. But, since Nepal is a backwards place, the night got warmer as the hours ticked by. I was awakened by the sharp exhale of a yak that was right at my ear level on the other side of the "wall." I realized I was actually hot! I tore off my hat, puffy jacket and socks ans snuggled up in my sleeping bag for a relatively comfortable night of sleep.

Free to roam. En route to Tilicho Tal. Day 12

Manang to Khangsar.

We were definitely leaving Manang! Today we will be heading towards Tilicho Tal, currently known as the World's Highest Lake and a 3 1/2 day excursion from Manang. At 5100 meters, the lake is surrounded by The Great Barrier, a dramatic lineup of icefall and glacier extending down and around Tilicho peak. Views from the lake are said to be spectacular and this side trip would be a great way to acclimate and prepare for Thorung La.

After eating breakfast and packing away our gear (which after 5 days of downtime was decorating every square inch of the room), we gave a few unneeded items to be left at the hotel and attempted to pay the bill. Due to Kevin's mix up with losing his wallet, he wanted to pay with his card and me give him cash. No problem, except the proprietor of the Yeti was out of town. Calls were placed and, in one hour, the owner would be back. Now, we know Nepali time and one hour could really mean any time. Oddly, 55 minutes later, our man had arrived. Miracles do happen!

We hiked along a crumbly trail above the Marysandgi Khola. Winds gusted and clouds hung low, looking like they could unleash a fury at any minute. Luckily, they held off until we were 15 minutes from Khangsar. The precip fell in the form of snow, and it would continue to fall for the remainder of the day and night.

We aimed for a red brick building. The woman in the entrance, Laxmi, invited us in and gave us a room. We lunched in the dining hall meeting the only other guests, Frank and Jurgen (Germans). By the time dinner rolled around, Kevin and I were both frozen and decided that hanging by the fire in the kitchen was a great idea. We joined the Germans next to the stove where Laxmi did all of the cooking. We all chatted about jobs, life, trip endeavors. The guys got skunked on accessing Tilicho Tal due to snowy weather and had to back down. We watched as Laxmi, her friend, and the German's guide prepared food. This was our first Nepali kitchen experience and it was noteworthy. Stove heated by woodfire, one woman chopping, the guide rolling veggie momos, and Laxmi cooking it all up. At times, she has had to prepare enough food to feed 20 hungry trekkers on only two burners. I'd venture to bet she does it while smiling too.

As day turned to night, snow still falling outside, in the warmth of that kitchen I had managed to forget that we had hiked our way back into winter. Did I want to move on from here? Hell yes. Was it possible that we'd be snowed in, unable to walk 5 hours to base camp? Seemed very possible. At least I could then check one off my list:
Get snowed in, trapped in the Himalaya.
With Laxmi at the stove, working her magic, I could think of worse places to end up.

Paved With Shit (Day 11)

Nothing terribly eventful. Instead of reporting on another recovery day I'll post about something I've been thinking about.

In all likelihood Krissy and I got sick from contaminated water. But Dr. Hazel also suggested that maybe when I tied my boots one day there was a bit of poo on the laces and afterward touched my mouth or ate something. If that sounds like germaphobe talk or the advice of a quack one must understand that Nepal's thoroughfares are paved with shit. You'll see it on roads, paths, trails, sidewalks and especially alleyways (which may be streaming with it). I challenge anyone to take a walk in Nepal and for five minutes and not see shit. Yak, ox, goat, blue sheep, dog, horse, mule and human are all the varieties there are to behold.

As you're walking, it is unavoidable to step in no matter how careful you are with your foot placements. You would have to backtrack for miles if it was your number one concern to not walk in poop. Oh, and the mud? It's not mud. Needless to say, all of my gear is going to require a severe hosing and scrubbing and possibly some bleaching.

Becoming local. Day 10

Today was rest day three in Manang. Amazingly enough, I woke up to a whistling noise that I couldn't place: man or bird? I decided man because of the slight varying. Kevin woke up and asked, "is that a bird or a person?" Person. Would have loved to have continued sleeping but between the whistling, tingly body from Diamox, and the laborious plowing of the field outside the window, it was impossible. Good thing too. The moment my feet hit the floor, I thought I may pass out from hunger (something I hadn't felt in days). Kevin's appetite was back too so we scrambled upstairs to breakfast. It was DELICIOUS! So good in fact that I ate half of Kevin's plate too - no I didn't steal it, he was full. Sheesh!

Kevin tended to necessary duties in town and I ventured up to a chorten on a bluff above town. I took back alleyways to get there. The women here are so friendly and beautiful that I wish I could sit down and talk with them. They are almost always smiling, brightly dressed, decorated in bangles that glitter in the sun, shooing kids around and chatting in groups. Even though they were in frigid water washing clothes and dishes, they were all smiling. You can tell it is genuine when someone is smiling through their eyes. Sounds silly because i know how fortunate i am, even still I can't help but feel a slight pang of envy. I've never been so happy washing dishes, but I guess I've also never washed dishes in a group - I am going to need a bigger sink.

The chorten was a sight worthy of a brief stop on an incredibly windy day. Goats with spiraling horns grazed on hardy grasses all around. In the backdrop was a straight view of Gangapurna and it's maze of an icefall. I tried to capture the scene on top of that hill but my camera battery had died. Pity. The chorten, like all chorten, are a Buddist structure. The eyes on the top represent the eyes of Buddha. The question mark looking squiggly where a nose would be is the number one, meaning the one and only way. Above and between Buddha's eyes is the third eye. A way to look within oneself. Prayer flags usually adorn these buildings and they are to be walked around in a clockwise direction. If you find a chorten in your path, you swoop to the left of it, even if it creates a detour. Takes some getting used to...

The rest of the afternoon was fairly tame. Kevin lunched, we played chess, read books, I did laundry at the hotel water hole amidst German boys (the experience did not make my eyes smile), learned and got quizzed on some Nepali vocab, and witnessed a fantastic lightening and thunder storm.

Food (day 9)

Nothing happened today. Still resting from the illness. Instead of reading about my boring day, here's something that I hope is more interesting:

Things to Know About Food in Nepali Guest Houses

• Food has some very liberal definitions here. Pizza, for instance, usually involves some bread and yak cheese and some kind of sauce (they do weird things with tomatoes here). Sometimes it will be bread with a kind of soup on top. Other times it will be served sizzling in a pan and it rivals any of the pizza I've ever had. It's really a gamble. And that goes for all the food you order, not just pizza.

• If you're really hungry, get the dal bhat. You'll get seconds.

• Prep time varies greatly so be prepared to be patient. If there doesn't appear to be any activity in the kitchen it's worth your while to check and make sure your order was not forgotten.

• If you're craving fried dough don't get the pancakes. Tibetan bread is much better and is much more consistent.

• If you sit down and nobody is around, poke your head into the kitchen, give your friendliest "namaste" and let someone know you want food.

• A Snickers roll is a Snickers bar covered in dough and deep fried. Delicious? Disgusting? Maybe a little of both...

• Don't get the Mustang Coffee. Really, don't do it.
  

What now FloJo? Day 8

Just relax and focus on your breathing. Just relax and it will be fine. I knew I was lying to myself but half heartedly believed these thoughts out of sheer hope. The ability of he mind to lie to itself is an incredible gift, and I have employed it several times. My stomach churned again. That was it. After witnessing Kevin suffer for over 4 hours the night before, then the local doctor telling us it was from a waterborne illness, I knew I was done for...it was only a matter of time. 

I could feel everything moving in the opposite direction: left to right, down then up. The body shakes were strong enough that I thought I would be possible to shake my faulty shoulder out of socket. It was just below my rib cage. More shaking and it was now just below my heart. I heard Kevin stir and told him, "I am about to join you."

The sprint to the bathroom on trembling legs would have put FloJo to shame. What followed doesn't need to be described in detail. Illness from water is similar to that of food poisoning. Varying from person to person. Afterwards, i didn't know what to do: hang in the bathroom or go lay down. Too exhausted to sit upright, I chose to lay down. Kevin's episode was far longer than mine. So who knows what would occur next. I laughed at myself. Each day here, being healthy, I'd scoff at the idea of becoming sick. Who the hell did I think I was? Too good for an illness that 90% of travelers suffer from to some degree?

The remainder of the day was spent napping, eating plain chapatti, and sipping juice or water. The events of last night after a day like we had was enough to knock us off our feet. Oh yeah, Happy New Year, everyone! Nepali new year starts today, April 15. On their calendar it is something like 1965. It does feel like we have stepped back in time, sometimes further back than that. I must say though, thank the Sweet Lord Shiva (or Ganesh, I am still subpar on my Gods here) for modern medicine!

Ill fortunes (Day 7)

The day started out with a choice: follow the easy road and be in Manang in four hours or take the Upper Pisang route which is three hours longer, more strenuous, more scenic and follows a trail instead of a road. Krissy and I had talked it over the night before and had agreed that if it was raining again, there was no point in the taking in the scenery of rain clouds. When we awoke the sun was shining brilliantly. However, the pleasant weather was a poor indicator of the ill times that lay ahead.

At first the trail wound it's way along a hillside through a pleasant screwpine and juniper forest. The views of the Annapurna range were astounding and only got better. We crossed a suspension bridge and began to climb a long series of very strenuous switchbacks. They seemed never ending and at 11,000 feet both of us were sweaty and breathing hard. At the top, we were awarded with a great view from a chorten (Buddhist monument). And no more switchbacks!

We pressed on and went through a couple villages before stopping for lunch. On the menu there was something called Mustang Coffee that piqued both our interest. A nice little coffee drink to help us finish the hike would be nice we thought. When Krissy put in our order, the guy apparently laughed when she said Mustang Coffee. Not a good sign.

A man brought the drinks and laughed as he set them down. "Why are you laughing? What's in this?" Krissy demanded.

He pauses from laughing long enough to tell us, "Milk, coffee and wine."

Oh shit. I knew what he meant when he said wine. He meant rakshi, which is a local rice wine that's strong enough to strip paint. Maybe the worst part was how it looked. It had a light tan color with a thick yellow layer of grease on top. Krissy and I exchanged worried looks.

I took a sip and it wasn't that bad. It tasted vaguely alcoholic, more like whiskey than wine, and appears to have no milk or coffee in it. By far the most disturbing part was having to wipe grease from my mouth after taking a drink.

Thankfully our food arrived. In between wolfing down bites of fried noodles I continued to sip n the "coffee." If I could turn back time, I would rather dump the rest of the drink on my head than finish it, but at that moment I thought "I don't want to be rude and not drink it all." With a Herculean effort I downed the rest in one big gulp. Krissy stared at me wide eyed and, shortly thereafter, followed suit.

We felt pretty light on our feet after that. From the restaurant we had about three hours to our destination, Manang. We practically ran the whole way. I was feeling great until we reached the village of Bragha, 20 minutes away from Manang.

I was unusually exhausted, thirsty and my stomach was slightly upset. I wanted to stop for a break but somehow I knew it was a bad idea. We approached a mani wall (a Buddhist shrine that had some particularly intricate carvings. Excited, Krissy paused to look and I gave her a stink eye you could smell (I later apologized).

We made it to Manang and at that point my stomach was doing backflips. We checked into Hotel Yeti and I had to chase a kindly gentleman out of our room who was listing all the wonderful amenities of the place. The only thing I cared about was that we had a private bathroom. I thank Lord Shiva for that!

I threw down my bag and began rooting through it for something that would help. I took an Immodium A-D and sat on the bed. It took me seconds to realize that was not going to do the trick. I ran to the bathroom and puked violently.

For the next four hours I vomited, puked, threw-up, ralphed, tossed my cookies, booted, spewed, blew chunks, hurled, yakked, up-chucked and barfed. After twelve times I lost count. I was delirious at that point and all I could do was moan and thrash on my bed until I threw-up again. I was convinced it was just the Mustang Coffee and I'd be fine once I got it out of my system. Krissy wasn't so sure. In between one of my bouts she found out that there was a 24 hour doctor at the Himalayan Rescue Association Nepal (HRA).

Tired, very thirsty, in pain and now convinced I had something worse than food poisoning I began, with Krissy's assistance, to stumble across the street to the clinic. The doctor, Hazel, immediately saw us in and began taking my vitals. Everything was normal so she checked my abdomen.

"It's a little rigid and distended," she said.

I thought, but didn't say, "Oh no, those are just my rock hard abs." At least my sense or humor remained undamaged.

Dr. Hazel said she had seen a lot of people for intestinal bacteria that week (trekkers and Nepali's alike) and was convinced that was the problem. She gave me two options. One, take a powerful anti-vomit shot and start slowly hydrating or, two, get hooked up to an IV.

I knew the shot route would be quicker. I've been hooked up to an IV for dehydration twice in my life before and I knew it would at least take all night and the whole time I would be thirsty. Plus, an IV drip in the Himalayas? That must cost a fortune!

I went with the shot and was soon very slowly sipping oral rehydration salts. It tasted like I imagine tepid, used bath water would tasted but I didn't care. It was a liquid and it was going down, not up. I took the antibiotic Ciproflaxin and was sent on my way.

The doctor was convinced I would crash at some point and get some sleep. But any time I tried to lay down my stomach would gurgle and heave. So I stopped that, sat upright and continued to sip on the bathwater.

Krissy was having some trouble sleeping too. Earlier, she had felt her stomach do a little tumble and she grew concerned for herself. After seeing what I went through, she wisely took a Ciproflaxin also. It must have helped because she didn't have the violent episode I did. She did have to make a sprint from her bed to the toilet around 2AM. Only once though. Wuss.

As a footnote to this day I would like to assert how lucky I was. If I had ignored my feeling during the hike and had paused for water, that may have been long enough for my body to lose control right there on the trail. If we had been in any of the smaller villages I likely would have been evacuated by helicopter. Manang is one of the only villages along the Annapurna Circuit that has English speaking doctors and a 24-hour clinic. Finally, it would have been much worse if I kept having to run to a communal pit toilet. I probably would have caught some other bacterial illness. In all reality, it could have been a lot worse.

Desert pirates. Day 6

Sleeping in is an amazing thing. Since the bank didn't open until ten, we had ample time to hang around and play card games after breakfast. Kevin whooped me at cards. It felt like a sleepy PNW morning. Gray clouds loomed overhead, threatening rain. Sure enough, just before leaving, the rain started. We donned our full rain gear and took off. I was unbelievably happy for a short day today given the weather.

We are officially in the high alpine. With the low lying clouds, and lack of mountain views, this terrain looked identical to any other high alpine environment either of us has visited. Incredibly happy to be out of the humid jungle, we hiked on through the rain.

Our hotel, The New Tibetan Guesthouse, feels more like a pirate ship than a hotel. No complaints here, the room is 100 rupees ($1.50), and we are perched next to a woodstove reading books, hot toddy in hand, and reruns of Wrestle Mania on the TV. Life is good, damn good.

An Unexpected Rest (Day 5)

I was nearly out of money so we had to wait for the Nepal Bank to open at 10AM. It was nice to wait, really. We slept in, had a leisurely breakfast and checked emails on expensive internet. All was going well until I climbed the stairs back to our room and started packing up my bag.

Krissy later joined me and stated that phrase nobody wants to hear: "Do you want the good news or the bad news?" I already knew what this meant.

"Oh no, the bank is closed isn't it?" I said, panic apparent in my voice.

Krissy nods her head. "Well, what's the good news then?" I ask.

"There is a bank in this village," she adds brightly.

It turns our Nepali holidays occur on an almost weekly basis causing all public facilities to shut down. Does it matter that today is a Tuesday? Not at all! This is because Nepali's have their very own calendar.

Krissy and I pooled our money together and we found out that we had around 3000 rupees. The bill for lodges has been around 1700. The next bank is a two day walk. I'll spare you all from doing math and just tell you: we didn't have enough $$$ to keep walking.

That means that we had to spend another night at the Hotel Shangri-La. Of all places to be stuck, Shangri-La was not so bad. Good food, nice people and soft mattresses. Just keep an eye out for centipedes. Yuck.

After the bank closure news I promptly went back to bed and took a nap while Krissy went out to explore the village and find a quiet place to read her book. It was good for both of us to have a rest day. Yesterday involved a lot of walking and getting right back on the trail may have been met with some undesirable results. Now that we're all relaxed we're very anxious to move on and see the next beautiful place.

Patience is a virtue. Day 4

Waking up early doesn't necessarily mean that you will get going early. It is clear to us that Kevin and I operate on a different clock than the rest of this country. At first we called it island time in the mountains, but now I have realized that life here just takes longer in general. Patience is a virtue. Eventually, things fell into place and we were fed and happy. We were both stoked and anxious to get out of Tal and on the trail. While packing up camp amidst our new Frenchy mountaineer friends and their Sherpa entourage, I couldn't help thinking, "this scene is weird."

It was a tremendously long day. As the hours ticked by, the valley seemed to close in around us. We were getting our first views of the snow covered beasts that surround the valley. Despite being somewhat near 8000 feet, these peaks tower over us somewhere between 20,000 to 25,000 feet. Seeing them has been a jaw dropping event for me and a constant reminder that no matter what I have or will accomplish, I am still so small.

Chame (our stopping point for the day) is a lovely mountainside town. People are out and about, dogs run up and down the streets barking incessantly. We retired early. Long days like this, one after the other take their toll on you. While preparing for bed, Kevin yelled my nname. I turned in time to see a HUGE centipede scamper across the wall above Kevin's bed. The sound it made was otherworldly. It's size was shocking! With a mighty blow of his book, Kevin defeated the 100 legged creature.

In the next few days, our trekking will be hindered by altitude and acclimatization, and quite possibly weather. The French expedition got shut down, groups of people have been headed the opposite direction (signs of pass crossing failure, injury or illness), and we have heard of inclement weather for a few days out. It is very possible that we get turned around also as Thorung La sits at 17,760 feet. World's Highest Pass! It will be what it will be, no reason to worry about those things which we can not change. For now, I will keep thinking of good weather while passing the prayer walls.

Ce La Vie

Today began as most days do on the trek. Krissy and I have really settled into a routine. We are both fanatical about drinking milk tea (it's like a mild chai tea) and usually have a small pot to share over breakfast. After breakfast we pack up our stuff and start walking.

During the walks the scenery keeps improving. Each day keeps getting better as we slowly gain elevation. We've left the rolling hills and have entered a canyon that is formed by the Marsyangdi Khola. The air has a chill bite. Mountains are just around the corner.

For the most part today was just routine, except for our encounter with the strange little town of Tal. This was the place we ended up stopping at for the night. It is right along the Marsyangdi and appears to have suffered from some recent flood damage. The roads through town are choked with river silt and some structures appear to have been washed away. Horses wander free down the single road through town. Dog fights are heard in the alleys. Mule trains with their jingling bells are driven at a quick pace through town. The whole thing has a very Western feel to it.

We stayed at the Dragon Guest House because they offered camping and we were interested in a change from sleeping inside. We set up the tent then went inside for a meal. An uncomfortable series of minutes passed before Krissy got up to get the menus. The second series of minutes wasn't any more comfortable. We watched people hustle past us as if we weren't there. As the only ones sitting in the restaurant we felt unsettled and tossed around the idea of leaving for another guest house. Then, like an ominous puncuation to our discomfort, we heard an explosion. It was from the roadwork that we passed on the way into town. But still...

Then Krissy took charge. She tracked someone down and gave them our order. Momentarily, we had Coke's sitting in front of us. We drank some and then poured in generous amounts of whiskey that we had brought from Pokhara. That helped to take the edge off.

Out of nowhere, a French climbing expedition shows up. Two dozen porters, sherpas and French people start setting up camp next to our little tent. It was like the circus had suddenly come to town. We talked to one of the climbers who tells us they got skunked off of their climb due to "shite weather." Ce la vie I guess.

Both a little buzzed, we settle in for the night in our tent amidst the clamour of the climbing party. It turned out to be an interesting day.

AC day 2... getting good

Life can't get much easier or better than this. It was our first day waking up in the Annapurnas. It was also the first day that this trip felt like it was really coming together. It isn't easy thinking for months and months about trekking through an area; reading a guide book over and over, imagining what it will be like. No guide book or photo did this any justice. It just couldn't.

For most of the day, we hiked on a trail from Bhulbhule (woah woah) to Ghermu. There was a brief period of road in there too, but it went by quickly. We leap frogged with a trio of hikers; one Israeli guy, Swiss girl, and a local porter. I am thrilled to say that we got to cross at least a half dozen suspension bridges. FUN! Also got to see a handful of waterfalls.

I am finding that all this walking makes you awfully hungry. We stopped to lunch in the beautiful little town of Bahundanda, taking in dramatic 270 degree views. True to it's name, Hotel Superb View has just that. We are not sure if the names here are meant to be funny or just concise, but they make us laugh.

High above the Marsyangdi Khola, the trail skirted a cliff band. Years ago, a hiker fell from the trail, landing precariously on a ledge below. To my amazement, he survived and was rescued three full days later. Afterwards, he donated money to fund building a handrail along that section of trail. It is impressive to see where people, long ago, made trails to get to neighboring villages.

We made it through that section without any mishaps only for me to realize that I had stowaways in my pack. As usual, there is never a dull day here. At a rest stop, I noticed ants on the waistband of my pack. I brushed them off and then saw some more realizing, "UM, Kevin, I have ants living in the waist belt of my pack!"

He started responding and interrupted himself with, "wait, WHAT?"

It was true. After several minutes of pouring insect killer into a small slot, I believe we won the fight.

Annapurna Circuit Commencement

Today was mostly a travel day. Krissy and I woke up at 5AM so we could catch a 6:30AM bus from Pokhara to Besi Sahar: the village where the Annapurna Circuit begins. The bus ride turned out to be quite an ordeal.

First off, the tourist bus station is no fun. Vendors, hustlers and beggars hounded us while we just tried to figure out which bus to get on. Turns out ours was the one that looked like an explosion had occurred in the engine compartment. We had some help getting our bags on the roof and then sat in our seats. We then were amused by the spectacle of three Australian kayakers trying to cram all their gear aboard.

It took us five hours to get to Besi Sahar. Along the way local passengers were picked up and crammed aboard with the tourists. Some got off off but most stayed for a significant amount of time. Usually there was someone sitting on a little stool in the aisle next to me. One of these people was an old man who for some reason faced me and put his arm on my seat with his hand firmly resting on my butt. He also began to nod off and I was worried he was going to fall asleep in my lap. I may be easy going but I would have protested at that point. At any rate, that was an uncomfortable 45 minutes.

Towards the end of the journey we were still adding and dropping pasengers but whenever we stopped the bus would stall. Krissy and I were not amused.

"Do you think we'd get our money back if the bus broke down?" Krissy asked.

I told her I didn't think so.

We did make it. The town was very unappealing and looked like the Nepali version of a strip mall town. So we booked it out of there and had a pleasant walk. We stopped in the village of Bhulebule and had a late (3PM) lunch at the Thorung Guest House. Lunch was good and we wanted to check out the Marsyangdi Khola (River) that flowed past the town so we also booked a room.

Huge boulders line the river banks. We spent the rest of the afternoon boulder hopping and taking a quick cold dip. After that we had dinner and went back to the room to read. It was a fairly uneventful day as far as days can go in Nepal. I can say that both Krissy and I are really stoked about this trek. We agree that, already, it's much better than the Royal Trek.

Beta and tips for The Royal Trek

1. Don't hire a guide if you don't want to. You are road walking the whole time.
2. Ask what town you are in when you get to one. This will keep you on track. 
3. Ask, for reassurance, which way to the next town. Maybe ask a few people to make sure. Nepalese people are people pleasers and will respond even if they aren't sure.
4. Don't trust that the map is to scale and drawn correctly. We went over twisting roads when the map said they'd be straight.
5. Get water any time you can. That sun gets hot and there isn't much shade.
6. Not all roads are on the map. There are dozens of unmarked roads that will lead you astray.
7. It is possible to do as a tea shop/guest house trek (no tent) as basic guest houses have popped up in several towns listed below. 
8. Perhaps carry some spare food if you plan on guest house lodging.

We got the Nepa Maps 1:25000 scale Royal Trek map. It works but is misleading due to said oddities above. Also, it makes the area look less populated than it really is.
Kalikasthan comes quickly. It has stores and a guest house.
Thulakot is good sized as well. 
Okhle has a store, a well, and a nice camp spot in a three walled building.
Sagre has a tea shop, guest house, store and water.
There wasn't much happening between Sagre and Lipani so stock up on water.
Lipani has stores and definitely a spot to stay for camping. Could probably work a spot in someone's house too, if need be.
Take the right fork in Lipani and then the first left fork after a single house on the right. There is a water source here. Following this path up and over will take you to Syaklung.
Syaklung has water and a store. Great views!
Ask directions in Ramkot. It has a few stores and Internet.
Sarka Bhanjyang is a pass where two ridges intersect. You descend to it so don't let the map confuse you.
Chisapani is large and has camping on the hilltop near the tower.
Bhirchowk has stores as well. Stock up on water because the downhill from there on is hit and brutal.

Last things to know so you don't sound like a goon:
Pani - water
Tal - lake
Khola - river
Bhanjyang - mountain pass
Moi - milk probably from a yak. It is sour!
Didi and daai - sister and brother
Chowk - intersection
Okhle pronounced oakley
Lipani is sometimes spelled Lipeyani. Say li-pani.
Bhirchowk pronounced beer-shock

Not Magellan

I would like to firmly shoulder the responsibility for the upcoming inconvenience you are all about to read about. Having an extra days food, plenty of people to help us if we got into trouble and full of confidence from our jungle hill summit last night I was feeling bold. Picking out our way solely on instincts and assumptions I lead us in the complete opposite direction we needed to go.

After nine hours of walking the day before, we both slept well. Slowly, we crawled out of our sleeping bags shortly after dawn and began to prepare for the day. Krissy and I were looking forward to finishing the trek and enjoying the amenities of Pokhara (shower, beer, hot food and no tigers). Getting to Pokhara would end up taking a lot longer than either of us expected.

There was a wide footpath next to the shelter that we began to walk in an Easterly direction. Stupidly, I assumed that the closest village was Chisopani (the one we spent all day yesterday looking for and would spend half the day today looking for). I wrongly assumed this, despite knowing that all the villages we came across were not labeled in English. The only way to know where we were was to ask somebody.

We didn't see anybody. So we kept walking and came to a vista where we saw two things that, to me, indicated good signs. One, there was a road at the bottom of the hill that led in the direction we were going (the trekking route followed main roads). Two, there appeared to be a body of water that I was certain could only be Rupa Tal (A major landmark. Tal means lake).

We were on a narrow footpath at that point and we both concluded that eventually it would connect to the road. We marched forth along a ridgeline for a while before we started descending into the jungle. Still unaware of the upcoming snafu, we were both enjoying the shady footpath that was much more pleasant to walk than the road.

After a long while, the footpath met up at the road. We followed the rutted, dusty road downhill until we reached, unknowingly, our turn around point. What we saw there was very disconcerting. Far, far down in the valley below was a river on our left hand side. According to our map, the river should be on the right side. We looked at the map and confirmed our suspicions. We were a whole two valleys away from where we should have been. A sickening wave of dread washed over me.

I cannot begin to explain how miserable the backtrack walk was. The sun had become fierce and it punished us with it's burning rays. We were completely out of water. Even worse, this was all my fault.

Very, very thirsty, we stopped at a small village. A family was standing outside their house. We namaste'd each other and discovered they didn't have water but they would sell us some Fanta (Krissy had been raving about wanting one for the past two days). We each bought an orange flavored fizzy sugar water.

A man who carried himself as the head of the household spoke English well, so we asked where Chisopani was. He pointed to a village on the distant hillside. He told us it would take a half hour.* It was grim but also welcome news. We had a long way to go but at least we were finally back on the map.

The Fanta cheered us up a bit and helped to stave off our thirst long enough for us to reach a well in the middle of a small village. While we filled up Nalgene's I took the opportunity to look at the map. I figured that from Chisopani (still roughly 45 minutes away) we had another three hours of walking until we reached our destination: Begnas Tal.

It was mostly misery after that. The sun was at it's hottest and the temperature had to have been in the mid 80's. When we got back on the trekking route we were heckled and laughed at by younger villagers. At one point a pack of small boys saw us and came racing down a hill they had been perched upon. They waited by the side of the road for us to reach them and, when we did, they begged for chocolate and pens. We told them no, but they trotted along side of us repeating "Give me chocolate." "Give me pen."

Eventually they gave up and we continued on. Our feet hurt from the rough road and the sun continued to cook us. We had to frequently take rest breaks in the shade and remove our boots to take the pressure off our feet.

A welcome sight was Begnas Tal. We were still high above it but at least we could see the journey's end. And before we knew it, we were in Nepali civilization. Buses and motorcycles zoomed past. People walked by and some of them didn't stare at us.

We walked for a little while before a bus stopped in front of us and a Nepali youth called out to us. "Where you going?" he asked. We told him Pokhara. "This bus go to Pokhara!" he shouted back. That was all it took for us. Sweaty and smelly, we hopped on board the "chicken bus" as Krissy calls them.

We ended up waiting on the bus for fifteen minutes before we rode back into town. We didn't care. We were done walking and were out of the sun. Plus, catching a bus there saved us an extra hour of walking.

When the bus got moving we cooled off quickly from the wind rushing through open windows. We were happy. We also had much to look at. The young, mustachioed, purple G-Unit t-shirt wearing bus driver honked his horn in an effort to convince people to climb aboard. Other passengers would flag the bus down and he would slam on the brakes to let them in. He had a very hard time keeping his eyes on the road. He would either be leaning out the window to yell at rival bus drivers or would turn his head owl-like to stare at any women that walked by.

Soon enough, we were back at the Holy Lodge, showered and starving. We hit the town and had some excellent Chinese food and Everest beer. We stayed out for another drink but the events of the day, the food and the alcohol had us yawning. We walked back to our room and slept when our heads hit our pillows, dreaming about anything but the Royal Trek.

*If you remember from the last post, a half hour in Nepal is the minimum estimate. This half hour ended up taking an hour and a half.

Photos from Day 1.

Terraced hillsides; our host and oxen en route; hilltop (jharta) house we slept in; little Sundicha; Altam, Sungam, Sundicha and Kevin goofing off.

Not On The Map

We awoke at 5AM to Nepali music that crackled loudly through cell phone speakers. We laid in our beds for a while and chatted. Krissy slept well but I kept waking up to the noise of pigeons flapping and rodents chewing. I was paranoid that they would move away from the walls and into our gear. Thankfully this never happened.

Our host made us a delicious breakfast of fried eggs and tea biscuits (complete with tea). Afterwards he insisted on taking us up a hill that had good views of Machapuchchre and the rest of the Annapurna Himal despite our protests that we really wanted to hit the trail.

"It will only take 30 minutes," he promised.

Before we left he made sure to ask us if we liked dal bhat (a traditional Nepalese lentil and rice dish). We both nodded our heads emphatically.

Two things to note here. One, Nepali's say something takes a half hour if they really don't know how long it will be. You can bet that it will take longer than that. Sometimes significantly longer. Two, if Nepali's ask you if you like something they aren't asking because they're curious. Ever the gracious hosts, they are trying to find another way to make you content even if they have to go to extreme measures to obtain the item you told them you like. Onwards.

The views were certainly impressive and I'm glad we were dragged to them. However, it took a significant amount of prodding from Krissy and I to have him lead us back to his home. When there, we packed our stuff and were about to leave when, crestfallen, our host asks "Are you not going to have dal bhat?"

Nepali's don't take no for an answer. While I was flattered to be dotted on so extensively, I couldn't help but feel that we were being held against our will. All I really wanted to do was start walking!

Dal bhat took an hour to prepare. During that time I found out that the dude wanted 1500 rupees for our stay there. That's only $20, but I was still irked that we'd been "rescued" from our free campsite and then billed by our saviors.

VERY eager to be on our way, we wolfed down our second breakfast and said quick goodbyes. We were both happy to be walking again, but in our haste had forgotten to fill up on water. We cruised through some smaller villages, issuing our round of namaste's, without any sign of water. Ojhagaon didn't appear to have any either. At Lipeyani we were very thirsty. We asked locals for pani (water) and they motioned us to continue up the road.

A fork in the road appeared and still no water. One way went up, the other, down. We were trying to figure out which way to go when I saw an old woman walking the road above us with large water containers. After her!

At the oasis, we spent a significant amount of time filling up water, washing our faces, quenching our thirst, soaking our hats and scarves and amusing the old woman with the steri pen. We left hydrated and confident we were heading in the right direction.

Little did we know, but this would be the last time we would be so confident. Krissy later told me she felt we were off route even as we passed Syaklung and Ramkot (landmark villages on our map). I have to agree that the route we took didn't match the contours of the map.

As far as I can tell everything went wrong in Ramkot. We asked the villagers which way to go and they sent us on the road ahead. My feeling is that they inadvertently sent us off course.

We asked everyone we saw "Chisopani?" (the name of the next significant village) and they would motion that we were heading in the right direction. We continued downhill along switchbacks and I began to doubt we were going the right way despite the assurance of the locals. Something didn't feel right but I kept my mouth shut since it was just a feeling.

Further up the road we asked a man "Chisopani?" and he looked at us strangely in response.

"You have map?" he asked.

Of course we did, so I pulled it out and to my bafflement he started pointing at villages and saying their names. He pointed at villages that were obviously far away from where we were. This went on for some time.

Eventually he came to some conclusion and asked us which way we wanted to go. Starting to get a little annoyed, I answered "Chisopani. But where is this village on the map?" So he grabs the map and again starts pointing at random villages.

I gave Krissy a look that I think summed up my frustration better than words could. I interrupted the geography lesson by repeating my question. Thankfully, his soft-spoken son who had been watching the episode, says in perfect English "I think you've come the wrong way."

Krissy, right on the money, retorts "Yeah, we think we did too."

The son speaks up again and defines our trip by saying "This village is not on your map."

At this point we were presented with two options: backtrack or continue into the unknown. Faced with these options my heart sank. Backtracking is demoralizing but continuing up a road towards an unknown destination? We might never be heard from again.

As I'm coming to the sobering conclusion that we will have to backtrack over 3 hours worth of walking the man again asks me which way I'm going. I look at him, sigh, and say Chisopani.

Miraculously, he points to a steep set of stairs right next to me and says "Chisopani that way. On top (of the ridge). Very steep. Dangerous."

I follow his finger to a monstrous, 1000 foot plus bump that erupts from the valley floor. I'm flooded with an unnatural amount of confidence that this is the right way to go. I look at Krissy and she mirrors the hope I feel. "Let's do this," I say.

We follow some twisting paths through villagers' back yards and have every dog within earshot barking at us. After some confusion, a couple villagers point us in the right direction. As we scramble up a ridgeline, dogs still barking, we look back to see dozens or people stopped where they are, staring at the lost, idiot-tourists with huge backpacks climb up a vertical swath of jungle.

Our fatigue and foot-aches have been replaced with giddiness. We laugh at how ridiculous and righteous the whole situation feels. Breathing hard and sweating profusely, we move at a laborious pace along the foot wide, leaf covered path with a sheer drop to one side. It's obvious the path is used infrequently.

After only an hour we make it to the top. At our convenience, a three sided, turquoise, tin-roofed shelter is at the top of the steep footpath. We drop our bags and check out the view. Despite the setting sun and growing storm clouds, we can see the very spot where we were staring in futile at our worthless map. It was a long way down!

Triumphant and tired, we ate a quick dinner and settled into our sleeping bags. The storm clouds reached us and we fell asleep to thunderclaps and lightning flashes. Tigers be damned.

Royal Trek... mostly.

A little background. This is also known as the Annapurna Skyline Trek. In 1980, Prince Charles hiked this loop and hence it is now known as The Royal Trek. The locals are incredibly proud of this fact and you will hear it several times if you come to the area. This trek winds through the jungle foothills, just south of the Annapurnas.

To begin with, I'd like to say that we got lost. Terribly lost. "Off the map," kind of lost. That will come much later though, you are excited for it, eh? We chose this trek as a warm up before the Annapurna Circuit. Being 4 days long and low elevation, we could figure out what problems we needed to change before a much longer trek. Also, we could get used to carrying heavy packs without also dealing with altitude illnesses. Good thinking...

I (Krissy) will be writing up day 1 and Kevin will do days 2/3. Then a technical notes write up will come after for people needing beta only. Alright then,

Day 1:
We woke up earlier than expected allowing us to hit up a local bakery for breakfast. After eggs, toast, potatoes and milk tea, we got our bags from Holy Lodge (our kick ass hotel) and hopped in a taxi headed for the start. I had heard about the crazy buses in Asian countries but this car ride put those stories to shame. Kevin and I sat in the back with my bag, Kevin's bag was on top, we had a driver and sitting shotgun, the driver's son. Once we hit the highway, our driver started making phonecalls. No problem? He was swerving in and out; using the opposite lane of traffic to pass buses, motos and other slower moving vehicles. For a while we were in fourth gear. Kevin mentioned not liking fourth and although I was amused, agreed. Can't say I like traveling quickly towards the flat front of an oncoming bus. The driver now, speeding along, hung up his phone and pulled out a hanky. "Babu," he said, meaning son in Nepali, and proceeded to blow his son's nose. What multitasking!

At the drop off (8 AM) we were told to follow a man to Kalikasthan. Instead we grabbed our bags and took off at a furious pace, leaving that man behind. We specifically didn't hire a guide for a reason. The initial hike involved road climbing out of the rice flats and high up into terraced hillsides. We agreed that the area reminded us of Hawaii's steep, vibrant hills. It was gorgeous and amazing to see what people can make possible on those hills. Each person we passed offered a "namaste" which we repeated back. On occasion, people who knew English would say more. It was friendly, inviting and fun. Then children started saying, "namaste chocolate." I was flattered by the offer of chocolate but refused. I couldn't take chocolate from a child! Later, Kevin said they were asking FOR chocolate. The nerve! I don't even know them! No you are not getting my chocolate!

The first large town we arrived at had signs reading Kalika. It was only 10 AM and we hadn't seen a campsite anywhere. Were we in Kalikasthan? Technically speaking, the name means "town of Kalika," we continued on. With no one to ask and tons of time, we strolled on through. We walked and walked. Getting namaste'd everywhere and seeing camping nowhere until we were about 4 hours out. Was this Kalikasthan? Two little boys, Shuman and Subot, told us that people sleep there. Next thing we knew, Shuman was yelling something about just having seen a tiger go into he woods. What? Tiger? Hand signals and grr-ing noises confirmed what he said. We didn't believe him but decided to press on anyway. With so much daylight left, why not? A man spotted us looking at the map confused. He informed us that we were in fact in Ohkle (pronounced Oakley)...much furher than Kalikasthan. Awesome! The next town was Sagre, known to have tea shops. We continued on with milk tea in mind.

The shop owner in Sagre spoke broken English and told us about his brother who lived in Washington DC for 5 years. I could not imagine taking anyone from this remote corner and putting them in any US city. The tea was delicious and sweet. Milk tea is like a toned down chai tea. He also told us of guest houses up ahead and so we continued on, once again.

At this point, the afternoon sun cooked us. The road got rockier, literally, and steeper. We were exhausted, thirsty, and ready to set up camp. The spot we selected was in an old terraced hillside, away from the road and overlooking the Madi Nadi Khola (kohla means river). It was shady and in the morning would have views of the Annapurnas and Machhapucchrre (pronounced machapootray). We were relieved and happy despite having about 1.5 liters of water between us. We got in the tent then there were noises from the brush. Phew just a few ox. "If I didn't see another person today, I'd be so excited," Kevin said. I agreed, "yeah, don't think anyone is going to find us out here!" Then there was more bush rustling. "What is this," I asked, "safari camping?" two boys emerged. The oldest of the two, I can't remember his name for the life of me, told us we couldn't camp there. Tigers come up to hunt ox and would maul us in our sleep. Safari indeed! He insisted we come home with him. Wide eyed, we quickly broke down the tent and packed away our stuff. Who are they and can they be trusted? I was skeptical on the tiger comment but that was the second time tigers had been mentioned in one day. We followed the two boys and their 6 ox over road and footpath to a mountain top oasis.

His family and community members were amazing. He spoke English the best and did all of the communicating. We were surrounded by children who were so curious. His niece, Sundicha, was three and adorable. She and I quickly became buddies. We played chase and I shared my sunglasses and water with her. Neighbor boys Sungam and Altam and several others directed questions to be translated. It felt like the best family atmosphere. The community grew food for eachother and helped eachother. They had ox, goats and chickens near by. I was told that everyone there liked my name because Krissy in Nepali means very happy. Fitting. Soon enough, we were being referred to as didi and daai - older sister and brother. We were given a delicious meal of dal bhat, chicken and potatoes, prepared by Chisnumaya - our host's mother. If you are offered milk, say no. We said yes to be polite and were given yak milk. Sour and tangy at best. We chugged it to expedite the suffering. We also drank the water. Didn't want to insult anyone with our Steri-pen. After dinner, Chisnumaya seemed upset and asked why we didn't eat all the food. We felt bad but there was so much it wasn't possible. We went to the guest room and were shown goofy Nepali videos. Our host spoke about World Vision, an organization helping to provide water and toilets to people in the area. He hoped that in bringing guests to his home, people could help eachother. He helps guests be safe, and in turn guests help bring modern changes to the area. It was incredible that this 20 year old boy could see the world like this, I help you and you help me. Simple and right. Given, we ended up paying for our stay, but in that one evening (tigers or no tigers) we were safe. We learned a bit of Nepali and taught a bit of English. Everyone benefitted from the situation. It was random and wonderfully strange.

Day stats: hiked 7 hrs. Saw zero tigers. Drank lots of tea. Handed out no chocolate.

Kathman-doozie

The things you see in Kathmandu can be startling and horrifying. For one, the construction here would crumble with a moderate reading on the Richter scale. You thought the wreckage in Haiti was bad? On a more serious note is the begging. At first there wasn't anything too, hmm, disturbing. Then I got us sidetracked and into a large bazaar. At one busy intersection, I saw people stepping over an old woman. Through the moving crowd we could catch glimpses. Her one leg, badly mangled. Disease? Accident? We walked by. Her other leg had been amputated, skin stretched over a jagged bone that was trying to break free. It had not been handled by anyone with medical schooling. She had been set there on a blanket and left to beg. On the same corner laid a man with serious skin problems on his feet and legs. Gangrene. It hadn't bothered me that they were there. What bothered me was that someone, probably family, carried that woman out of her home and left her on the street. Not only that but no body noticed or cared. Those people can't move for themselves. Even if they had wheelchairs, there is no possible way they could maneuver over the uneven sidewalks or cross any traffic to return home. I wished I could pick her up and take her back to her bed. In a city with such poverty, people don't get close to the care they need. This was just one corner. What tragedies lay on other corners, or under those tarped rooves? It would be wonderful to be able to help these people but where would you begin? We forget how lucky we are because we have to pay for healthcare, college, taxes. Until now, I was forgetting how luck i am to be able to spend 700 rupees for a bus upgrade. For many of these people, that is a dream that will never happen. One misstep in traffic could land them on a corner, begging at the dusty shoes of strangers.

Happily, we are out of Kathmandu. We will return there in about 40 days.