A Merry Descent

Krissy and I left Kyanjin Gompa with mixed feelings. It was hard to leave this pretty place but we were both looking forward to returning to Kathmandu. When we return to the big city we'll have a little under a week to lounge around sipping (real) coffee and fruit lassis. I'll miss the pine and rhododendron forests, the towering white mountain peaks, the frothy, swiftly moving rivers and the colorful, darting songbirds. I'll miss the day's simple goal of reaching the next village with a sweaty back and tired legs. It'll take some time but it's doubtless that I'll also miss the weird, rustic guest houses, the farm animals on the trail, the bizarre concoctions called pizza, yak cheese, milk tea, all the people I've met, Coca-Cola, ketchup, the steep stone staircases, the scary suspension bridges with an alarming amount of bolts missing, the nice little kids who say namaste and don't want a chocolate or a pen, the multiple names for the same village, the prayer flags, the gompas, the reliable afternoon rain and the merciless mid-day sun. In essence, I'm going to miss trekking in Nepal.

Yet, we still had a couple long days of trekking in front of us. The Lonely Planet guide book told us it would take six to seven hours to reach the village of Lama Hotel on the way up. However, going back down would prove to be much easier. The descent was gentle and we made quick time. Both of our stomach issues had been resolved and a day's rest let us move at our usual quick pace.

As a personal side-note, I'm thankful to report that the knee issues that have been an ongoing problem for five years seem to have been completely resolved. Just last year if I had tried to descend as quickly as I did today I would have acquired sharp pains in the my knees that would last for at least two weeks. I certainly took notice of the change and merrily bounded down steep sets of stairs without a hint of discomfort. I attribute this wonderful change to all the bike riding I did this winter that helped build the support muscles that I was lacking.

We reached Lama Hotel with no incident in just around five hours. We had also descended an impressive 2000 meters: yet another big trekking day in the bag.

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.