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 noi
se 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 con
fident 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.
se 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 con
fident 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.
Krissy your sense of adventure scares the Bejeezus out of me...I love that about you- Must meet your friend Kevin soon. Glad you have each others backs. Much love and safe travels- xoxo Yagie
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