Rumble in the Jungle

My lack of energy has to be from six straight weeks of getting after it with really no breaks. Same with Kevin. It's a mutual tiredness. I woke up wanting more sleep. My stomach also felt a tad bit irregular. This could really be from anything, but in my optimistically delusional Krissy mind, I decided it was nothing to worry about. I hoped to open the curtain to find dreary skies. We had previously discussed hiking up the valley to camp but honestly I wasn't too keen on going with that plan. If Kevin were still gung-ho on it I could be convinced. Luckily enough for me, he wasn't. Unfortunately his change in motivation was due to stomach irritability as well. Best to stay near working toilets for the day.

We quickly switched our plan to staying in and around Kyangjin Gumba. We'd eat breakfast then make our way to Tsona Lakes. The Czech guide insisted we check them out and a picnic and swim sounded much more our speed for the day. We headed back down the trail to find the side trail that would lead us to the lakes. After crossing a bridge the trail petered out. If we had read further in the directions we would have known we should have gone eastward. We went westward. I wouldn't call this lost, per se, but we were in the wrong general area.

We crossed beautiful streams and vibrant green bogs, each time aiming towards a depression that could contain a lake. Over and over again we found more green pastures or bogs. Eventually, we located the first of many lakes. This one was small and full of algae, so we continued on.

En route to a larger lake, we came across a large climbable chunk of rock. Being the first piece of good rock we've seen in Nepal, we had to climb around on it. We worked out a long traversing problem. It had a few trichy moves in the middle that took some working out. Once we both got it, we continued onto the lake. Of course, by now it was almost noon and the wind was whipping up the valley. Ruling out swimming and death by hypothermia, we cut straight to a lunch of curry tuna and crackers. Right, probably not the best choice of people with stomach issues. The lakes were gorgeous and a great place to spend a lazy afternoon. When we reached vitamin D overload, we headed back to town via the more direct route.

Our stomach conditions worsening, we played chess and hung around the hotel grounds. We've decided we probably got sick from food we had at lunch on the way to Kyangjin Gumba. Yet again, we tapped into our stash of Cipro and ate a bland dinner to try and tame the rumble in the jungle.

We were sharing the lodge with another large group. A man and woman, Greg and Tanya, are halfway through the Great Himalaya trail. It spans from the east to west borders of Nepal and is a five month epic hike through remote mountains. Others join them for short stints, but overall it's them and the Sherpa. At this point they still have a good ways to go, but having just camped for two nights they were ready to party. Despite stories, music and dancing we made an escape to our room shortly after dinner. Nothing sounded better than resting, especially since we were about to make a fast and furious descent back down the valley.

Ever Get The Feeling You're Being Watched?

A short day of walking today and boy was it ever welcome. As soon as we started walking I could feel every ounce of my pack bearing down on my legs and shoulders. I spent a long time adjusting pack straps to no avail, so I sucked it up and plodded along.

And there we were! We reached Kyanjin Gompa in just under two hours. Krissy and I were impressed with the pleasant setting of the village, which really only consists of a cluster of guest houses that are open seasonally to cater to tourists. However, it being at the foot of impressive snowy peaks in a grassy meadow, it is something to behold.

We dodged some locals who tried to wrangle us into their hotel. We found the one we wanted, the Yala Peak Guest House, dropped off our stuff and headed straight for a bakery that advertised "good coffee." I've certainly had worse.

We were disappointed to discover that the cheese factory is not yet open for the season. We tossed around the idea of visiting the alpine lakes that were only an hour away but neither of us felt like walking anymore. We even vetoed the idea to play hacky sack. Really, we just felt like being lazy. So for the entire afternoon we sat in the sunshine watching crows and chickens fight over morsels of food in discarded dishwater.

Clouds rolled in and stole the sunshine so we both headed up to the room. Krissy took a three hour nap and I read a dozen chapters of Anna Karenina. It was just a nice lazy day.

The only other thing that is worthwhile to note is yet another bizarre culinary experience. Krissy and I both ordered dal bhat which is dependably ordinary in the flavor department. However, as we finished our first helping, a woman came from the kitchen and filled our plate with more rice and our bowls with the soupy dal. She also asked if we would like pickle. I eagerly held out my plate and emphatically nodded and said "Yes please!"

What she spooned onto my plate was a pale orange, creamy substance with unidentified objects in purgatory. The pickle I've grown accustomed to is a little more solid, closely resembles relish, has an oily texture and a spicy, vinegar flavor. Unhesitating to try some, I scooped up the goop with rice to give it a taste. I couldn't put my finger on the flavor at first: I was merely able to tell that it didn't taste good. I didn't want to show my disappointment by not finishing it because I had been so excited about it at first and this was obviously something the woman was proud of.

As I kept eating, I finally figured out what the mystery flavor was. "This tastes like fish," I announced to Krissy.

"That's what it is," she said. Then she started to stir around the pickle on her plate with her spoon.

She held something up in her spoon and, amidst laughter, said "Oh my God. Look at this!"

It was a dead little fish. No more than a half inch long, it was staring up at us with it's dead fish eyes. I dug through my own pickle and made the same discovery.

Oh well. It wasn't completely terrible and it was certainly much better than Mustang Coffee.*

*Refer to the post "Ill Fortunes."

Celebrate On!

I originally wrote this day as a nondescript trekking day. We hiked along he river on a rolling trail. Yadda yadda. It was beautiful. We rolled into Langtang just as a cold breeze blew in storm clouds. It was 4:00 PM when I wrote he original draft. I was laying in my sleeping bag somewhere between asleep and hungry. Kevin was reading Anna Karenina. Needless to say, it was a lackluster Friday the 13th. Then it happened.

Kevin said he was hungry so we devised a plan: get soup, hang out, eat dinner. We went to the dining hall and encountered a large climbing party. It consisted of six or seven Czech climbers and about fifteen porters and Sherpa. The Czech I was delighted! mountain guide offered us sliced salami and got everyone's attention. His speech made it obvious that they had failed at summiting, but he expressed how much the climbers appreciated everyone's help and effort. No one can be blamed for poor weather and bad conditions. The leader from the Sherpa side also said his thanks and apologized profusely for the unfortunate weather. Then he got the Nepali guys singing. This was the beginning of a group sing along by nationality. The Czech guide apologized to Kevin and me for the ruckus. They got high up on Naya Kanga before getting into waist deep snow, so they turned back. After tonight many Sherpa would return home. It was time to celebrate and show thanks to each other. "Celebrate on!" Kevin insisted. I nodded agreeably, why not celebrate?

Our new Czech buddy came back with homemade Czech gin. "Drink this," he poured us large shots, "it is delicious. Not at first but afterward." We did and it was damn strong, then delicious. The singing continued and people got up and were dancing to the beat of others drumming on table tops. This group was getting lively! Our newest best friend continued pouring us rum and coke (more like rum with a hint of coke) while we ate and chatted.

You never know what to expect here. One hour I was content in my sleeping bag; the next I was part of a rowdy party. Nepal never ceases to amaze me. We left the gathering to find an almost full moon and star filled skies. Seemed the storm had passed and the next day would be another gorgeous one.

Let's Go For A Walk Part 2

Nepal presented us with another fantastically sunny day. What a perfect way to commence the Langtang Valley Trek!

The trek begins where the bus dropped us off at Syabrubesi and actually ends in the same place. The midpoint of this out-and-back trip is Kyanjin Gompa where a buffet of high altitude side trips beckon. There are two peaks that top off around 15,000 feet that are easy scramble summits. Less strenuous options include a pair of easily accessible alpine lakes and a cheese factory! The option that Krissy and I chose is about a four to five hour walk further up the Langtang Valley to Langshisha Kharka (kharka means alpine pasture), where we plan to camp at the foot of the Langtang Glacier.

First, we had to get there.

We travelled up familiarly steep stairs alongside the Langtang Khola (river) through sunny and delightful forests. Everywhere we looked there was a waterfall. This would usually spark one of us to make a comment about canyoning: though both of us were thinking the same thing.

It was a very agreeable walk. Krissy and I were both very happy with the scenery. It took us six and a half hours to reach our destination, the village of Lama Hotel. It being oppressively hot, we were both dripping sweat and ready for a shower.

It's been well over a week since we last spent a day trekking but for my body it felt like it was yesterday. This was the biggest day of travel that was planned for the trip which no doubt accounted for some of the fatigue in my legs. More than likely I need a good two weeks of not walking for miles with a heavy pack. Preferably somewhere on a warm sunny beach. Anyone feel like donating a plane ticket???

Four's A Party - busing to Syabrubesi

As this was a travel day, I'd love to have nothing to write aside from telling how we got on a bus Syabrubesi. However...

We awoke at 4:45 AM, had to pack and catch a taxi to Gongabu Long Distance Bus Station. I grabbed seats and Kevin gave our bags to the man on top. This is a local bus so all baggage (and extra people) go up top. Nothing unusual.

Twenty minutes after we boarded, the bus was already crowding. We both thought, "come on already." The driver took his seat and I felt relief. Soon we'd depart on a 8-9 hour bus ride to Syabrubesi...the gateway to the Langtang Valley. My relief was quickly shattered as the bus driver turned on overly loud music. Kevin appeared perturbed as well. As it goes, the only functioning speaker on the entire bus was positioned directly above our heads. Either this is done out of kindness, the ticket sales man thinking, "Let's give these tourist the good seats with the speaker," or as a cruel joke, "Ha tourists! Give 'em those seats." Can't be coincidence. You can imagine how soothing Hindi music is at 6:15 AM. Combine nails on a chalkboard with a cat screeching. It's pure bliss.

A few more stops added more people to the already over peopled space. Kevin, in the aisle seat, now had a flamboyantly colorful woman in his lap. "Do you see this?" He asked me, unpleased with his new bus friend. I did. It was funny for a second because this always happens to Kevin. I squeezed my cheeks and offered Kevin some of my space. His scooting over spurred the woman to take a seat with us, three of us shared seat numbers three and four. We nearly had to spoon eachother to all fit into the small space. "Well, never thought I'd sit threesies on the bus," I said.

Music still blaring for everyone's listening enjoyment, our bus buddy departed. We sighed and moved back into our own seats. It was short lived. Next, a woman and her baby joined our duo. The four of us sat uncomfortably, trying not to bounce onto each our too firmly. Occasionally the music would switch to a more subdued sound, only to return to metallic sounding horns at a deafening volume. This didn't do much to drown out the occasionally crying baby we were now sharing our bench with.

I forgot to mention the leg space. There wasn't any. At 5'4" and with short legs for my height, I shouldn't have a problem in this department. I sat with my kneecaps crammed against the hard plastic backing of the seat ahead of me. Kevin suffered the same, although probably a tad bit worse. He is taller.

Four hours in and we were sweating profusely as the hot sun beat down upon our bus. Two different people had puked out the window in front of ours by now. We were nearing triple capacity by this point too. Double the people inside and the rest on top. Overweighted, we crawled so slowly a breeze barely entered my fully open window. Unbearable, I thought, and imagined the ways his could go worse.

"There are only four things that could happen to make his bus ride worse," my outlook was unusually grim.

"They are?" Kevin was curious.

"A flat, a mechanical breakdown, a head on collision with another vehicle, and rolling off a cliff," grim for sure.

"Oh, there are more ways," Kevin said, preparing to add a few on. "Someone could try to get on with a goat. Or a bee flies in and stings you. OH! What if you found ants living in your pants!"

Fair enough.

Then the rain started. This is the wettest pre-monsoon in years. "What are the chances they'll cover the bags with a tarp," I asked Kevin's opinion.

"Unlikely. I wouldn't count on it," he stated my exact thought. It was too late to worry about our packs at this point anyway. It was raining so hard, they'd already be soaked.

I looked forward. The street was a raging muddy river as the uphill ground eroded and slid onto it. Landslides have ripped buses off roads and over cliffs or into rivers. Kevin mentioned the rapidly moving surroundings and frowned. "It's not a good sign," I admitted (mentally adding landslides to that list of ways to make this ride worse). The rain eventually let up, but this wasn't until after the tourists on board had to get off to show our permits.

Back aboard and drenched, we vroomed onwards. A few of our fellow soaked passengers started causing a commotion in the back. Apparently someone had been left behind at the check post. The man's name was called without a response. "Chhaina, chhaina," a local yelled to the driver indicating that, true enough, we left someone behind. Unconcerned, our driver continued on to the next bus stop. The man caught us there and everyone calmed down.

We rolled into Syabrubesi in just over eight hours. Music still bumping, a slow drizzle falling. We retrieved our bags. It was obvious someone went through mine, top opened and water throughout. "Eh, whatever," I thought. It'll all dry. Plus I keep my valuables on me so nothing went missing. Poor wannabe thief, rifling through one of the few tourist packs with nothing worth stealing. Some of Kevin's stuff got damp, but overall things were in good condition.

We picked Hotel Peaceful for our lodging. Anything peaceful would be a god send after that ride. We unpacked and hung everything up to dry. I'd love to say that this is where it ended, but no.

I went to the bathroom hoping to relieve myself after holding it for the whole ride. Since electricity seemed to be working, I went to flip the switch. As I pressed it, some water came out. Instantly my right arm started shaking uncontrollably. It didn't hurt, but it took a few seconds to be able to remove my finger. When I did, I realized I had just gotten shocked! I left without using the facilities to notify Kevin. "You won't believe it!" I said wide eyed and told him the details.
"You need to not do anything else today," Kevin instructed.

As I write this entry, the ride is already becoming funny. We made it, so it wasn't all that bad. Our stuff will dry and we've already downed some milk tea and hot soup. A pretty classic start to our last Nepali adventure.

Canyons to Kathmandu, GTA style.

Mornings at The Borderlands are incredible. Peaceful, vibrant tropical forest, calming sound of the river. Our guides were lounging around so we did the same. Then, like the flip of a switch, "Ok, ready let's go!" Vijay was lively and suddenly seemed rushed. The three of us jumped up and made a break for our gear.

The car ride to our hike was quick and easy. Soon enough, the five of us were hiking uphill through someone's terraced corn fields. Our briefing was informative and done by Bobby. He gave us the run down on each of the five pitches (sections). Pitch 1: rappel then slide. Two to three meters above the water, let go and drop into the pool. Swim out. Pitch 2: cliff jump, swim. Rock slide, swim again. So on and so forth. He asked us if we knew the five steps of canyoning. We got the first four: rappelling, jumping, sliding, swimming.

"And five?" Bobby asked. We all paused.
"Fun?" I guessed. No.
"Safety," Kevin tried. No.
Arik offered no help here.
"Walking," Bobby said. Oh yeah, walking.

We started off, again Kevin taking the guinea pig lead. He rappelled, got on his butt and proceeded to slide out of view. I could hear Vijay saying something. Next came a large splash and hooting. My turn. From where Kevin disappeared, the chute narrowed and went vertical. I lowered down towards the small pool. Vijay instructed me to let go of the rope so I did. After the freefall into the pool below, I emerged and swam. Kevin was laughing and Vijay was hooting some more. I felt like I was made for this silly sport. Arik followed suit and we all cheered. Bobby stopped part way down to pull the ropes. He was stationed on a ledge. From there, he cannonballed into the small pool. Kevin and I sported ear to ear grins from here on out. This was too good to be true!

Next came the jump pitch. Vijay demonstrated as Bobby spoke. There was little room for error here. At five meters (about 15 or 16 feet) height was not the issue. We'd jump from a nice platform into an area about four feet wide. Both sides were rock cliff that needed to be avoided. We also had to jump a good way out to avoid the rocks directly below us. Don't jump too far or it will be shallow. Sheesh, you can imagine how many different ways this could go poorly. Kevin pulled it off. I did too. It was great! Incredible actually. We both touched bottom but it was silty and soft, so no worries there. Arik decided to lower on a rope, which I thought was wise.

The rest of the day was full of rock sliding, a rappel to zip line transfer, and a very long rappel. This last one was 45 meters. The chute narrowed quickly and you were immediately put into the waterfall. Your face got blasted by the water as you lowered half way down. From there, you had to swing right to the next anchors. Vijay assisted with a rope transfer. More rappelling led down to the last, long pool. From there we swam to the end. We agreed that canyoning is incredibly fun and will need to be done again...hopefully something we can do in Washington.

After lunch and packing up, we got into the car that would take us back to Kathmandu. What the driver lacked in personality, he made up for with his driving gusto. This was the most terrifying part of the two days, oddly enough. Kevin and I exchanged worried glances as we passed trucks, motos, sheep, you name it around blind corners at unmentionable speeds. Our car started sliding into a ditch at one point, front right tire fully in, but our driver saved it. Holy Crap! In 3 hours, the braying of sheep as they jumped from our path turned into school children screaming as they did the same. Good thing they moved too. This man braked for no one. He ran over someone's tomatoes and shortly after, a bunch of hay that was in the road. It was becoming funny at this point. What else could we run over? More sketchy passing in corners preceeded high speed GTA style traffic dodging. How could jumping off a bridge be less scary, I have no idea. We made it, by some miraculous act we arrived at our destination shook, but unscathed.

Tri-cycle 5/8/11

Sometimes I wonder how I get myself into certain situations. This happens most often when I'm rock climbing and I have a moment to think, "Wow, i'm attached to a rock face by only a few strands of webbing and rope. What am I doing here?" Today, I had a full five minutes to think, "Wow, I'm one of three people riding on a motorcycle. What am I doing here?"

Today started out normal enough. Krissy and I left our hotel in Kathmandu to catch a ride in a van that took us to the Borderlands Resort. The resort is a hub of adrenaline charged sports such as rafting, mountain biking, kayaking and, what we were headed out to do, canyoning. The ride was three and a half hour long and the driver was unusually cautious for a Nepali. It was a welcome change to watch all the buses and dump trucks manically pass us on narrow roads around blind corners.

The resort is really nice. Set along the banks of the Bhoti Khosi (river), it has the typical style of any tropical resort. Thatched roofs, winding stone paths, bright blooming flowers, expansive green lawns and a rough-hewn, heavily lacquered bar. The only thing missing is the tiki torches.

Since the canyoning group for the next two days only consisted of Krissy, me and an awkward, quiet Israeli named Aric, we would be finishing our two canyoning excursions way ahead of schedule. This was good news for Krissy, because 3km up the road at another adventure resort was a bungee jump that she was very excited about doing. At 160 meters, it is the second highest bungee jump in the world.

Wasting no time, we geared up in wetsuits, helmets, harnesses and hardware and started walking up the road to the canyoning spot. We had two guides that were showing us the ropes today. Our main guide, Prem, and in support, Vijay. Prem gave us a brief safety talk and lightly explained rappelling to us. Then he set to work anchoring the rope. Krissy and I watched intently since we both are highly interested in doing some canyoning on our own.

He got everything set up and I volunteered to be first. I stepped up and Prem hooked me into the rope via a figure eight belay device. He told me to go so I sat down in rappel stance, leaned back over the edge and off I went. Vijay down below had a fireman's belay on me so it was a very slow descent. It was good though since the rock was slick where the waterfall ran it's course. Twenty feet later I was down on the ground and Vijay unclipped me from the rope. I'm definitely not used to having people clip and unclip me as well as control the speed of my descent.

That was pretty much how the first day of canyoning went. We did three more rappels that increased in difficulty. By the end the guides trusted my technique enough to let me control my descent speed. Vijay was impressed that I was "running."

At the bottom of the last waterfall I was waiting for Arik and Krissy to finish their rappels when I felt something squishy between my toes. I bent down to look and there it was. Another thing to check off the life list. I had a leech that was fat with blood stuck between my toes. I pulled it off, threw it away and a stream of blood began to flow.

We went back to the resort and ate a hurried lunch. It was almost time for Krissy to jump off a bridge! As we started to leave Vijay told us "there was no time." So he flagged down a motorcycle driven by his friend and told us to hop on and pay him 50 rupees. Krissy and I exchanged worried looks.

"Both of us?" I inquired.

"Yes, yes! No time! Give him 25 rupees," Vijay said excitedly.

"It's only 3km isn't it?" Then I turned to Krissy. "You go ahead, I'll just walk."

But Vijay was insistent. He said it was a long hot walk. Krissy was already on the bike. "Are you coming?" she asked.

So this is how I found myself as the third passenger on the back of a motorcycle.

Krissy turns her head and says, "Do you see all the unnecessary risks you have to take when you hang out with me?"

"Hmm," I said.

Actually, it wasn't at all bad. The driver was really talented and had obviously ridden with two passengers before. He took corners slow, expertly dodged potholes and accelerated and braked smoothly. Even still, I kept a white-knuckle grip onto the rear handholds. It was a short ride but when I got off my hands ached from the effort.

We payed the guy 50 rupees and headed up the bridge in time to watch someone jump off. We heard him yell in fear: "Ah! Ahhhhh...." His voice trailed off as he disappeared into the gorge below. Krissy looked at me wide eyed with a maniacal look of terror and nervous anticipation.

We had to pass all the jumpers on the bridge to pay for her jump. Some were quiet and looked pensive while the rest chatted excitedly. When we showed up to the counter to pay Krissy was presented with some disappointed news.

The guy at the counter shouted to a chubby old white guy with grey, balding dreadlocks. "Any more jumps today?"

"No. No more jumps," was his plain answer.

It turns out dready was one of the owners of the resort. Krissy pleaded her case with dready saying that she had been told there was a spot reserved for her.

"Yeah, at two o'clock," he stated with what appeared to be his trademark surly/emotionless voice. "You showed up too late."

"Are there are anymore jumps tomorrow?" Krissy asked hopefully.

"No. The next day."

"So if I stayed here for two nights I could jump?" I looked at Krissy in horror. It's $40 a night to there. Plus, what would we do for an entire day? And the time in between the jump?

"I'll go check," said surly dready.

I began to protest to Krissy about staying at a resort for two extra nights.

"Relax," she interrupted. "I have no intention of staying here. I just want to make the bastard work."

We sat outside in a lounge area while we watched surly dready walk out to the bridge to talk to someone. A while late he waddled over to us and said, "If you can wait 45 minutes you can jump. You'll have to go at the end because we need to change out the weight."

Krissy was ecstatic. She paid for the jump and then went out to the bridge to wait. Since I wasn't crazy or rich enough to jump I had to wait at the viewing platform where I planned to take a video of Krissy's jump. It provided a decent view of the loonies as they all lined up and hopped off one by one like lemmings. For the next hour and a half I didn't do much but wait, so I'll let Krissy describe her experience:

I've always been fascinated with jumping off things. When I saw there was a chance to bungee in Nepal I figured I had to do it. I stood on that bridge for a lifetime... felt like it at least. Everyone was chatting nervously. When some would be called over - this was by weight- we'd hoot at him or her. You could see most people talking to themselves, like they were giving themselves a pep-talk. It made me laugh. Honestly, there is no risk involved here. Killing clients is bad for business so I knew it would be safe. Only human error would cause a mishap but these guys ran a tight ship. After about 15 people, one French girl and I remained. I was called over and harnessed up.

"When you jump, keep your eyes open. Experience every moment," I was told by the boy suiting me up.

"Oh no worries, I didn't spend 6000 rupees to close my eyes." He liked my response.

I wondered if the wind would affect my falling as I walked out on the plank. "Feet on the line," I was told. I shuffled out, toes hanging over. Well, no turning back now. I took a breath and thought that if I can't jump off a bridge I'll never be able to jump off a cliff. Baby steps, really. Putting my arms out, I leaned forward and jumped. The few seconds of freefall can't be put into words. You see the walls and trees moving past you, the river coming at you. There isn't even time to think about anything going wrong before your bungee catches you and bounces you around a few times. It was exhilarating! More so than skydiving! I squealed and giggled like a lunatic. As soon as I was lowered and unhooked, I logged up the trail to go meet Kevin. Others wanted to talk but I was ready to get going I figured Kevin was too. The 45 minute wait turned into a two and a half to three hour ordeal. I'd very much appreciated Kevin being there and his patience.

Breathless, Krissy met me at the top of the gorge by the bridge. She was very happy that she got to jump. She thanked me for waiting and for filming the whole thing. We hurried across the bridge and began our, thankfully, uneventful 3km downhill walk back to Borderlands Resort.