11 Bitter sweet around Annapurna - Occasional Climber › ... › 09 ›...

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It is May 2005, a little over four years since I returnedfrom my trek around Annapurna – my last visit to theHimalaya. The feelings of longing to return to thosehigh mountain trails have been back with me now formany months and I’m all too often aware that this fouryear gap between visits is the longestsince my first visit in May 1988.

During this time I’ve watched the disturb-ing political developments in Nepal, pon-dering on the impact this will have on thespirit of the Nepalise people and, there-fore, on the quality of the experience,until now, so enjoyed by trekkers in thatcountry. I hear about Maoist rebels de-manding “donations” from trekkers on thehigh mountain trails. I hear about the busstrikes, road blockades and riots beingendured down in the foothills. I hearabout the bloodshed by Maoist freedomfighters and Nepalise soldiers up in thehills. And I shudder at the thought of the massacre ofmembers of the Nepalise royal family by one of theirown. Further to the north the inexorable assimilation ofthe Tibetan people by mainland China continues. Tothe northwest, the bizarre high altitude war beingfought by India and Pakistan continues, unabated, inthe shadow of K2; and the terrorists residing in themountains of Afghanistan remain, despite the bestefforts of the mighty United States.Where will it all end? Does this mark the end of themagic I’ve been so transfixed by when in the Hi-malaya? I feel an urgency to return again now, beforeit’s too late!

But reading the diary of my visit to the Annapurna Circuit reminds me whythe time is still not right for me to return. I am now a father to three boys;three boys who are at an age where they particularly need their Dad; andthree boys who are at an age where their Mum needs Dad’s support toremain sane! My diary also reminds me how much I will miss my family if I

do head off into the clouds againjust now – probably so much thatit will overshadow the euphoriaof being back there. The balancebetween bitter and sweet isn’tright – at least for now. So, I waitand I relive past moments as Iwrite.

Sunday 1st April 2001Dear Lou, I’m killing two birdswith one stone – my diary is alsomy letter to you. I begin backagain in Kathmandu, sipping cof-fee at a rooftop café, people-watching. I see couples wander-

ing about. Inevitably it reminds me of you – a sweet remorse, as I know it’llbe just three weeks and I’ll be home again.

Nothing much has changed here, hustle, bustle, toot, honk, pong - samesmells and sounds. I’m starting to chill out now; little smiles bubble up atfamiliar things – the caw of those rascal ravens.

I’m booked on a 6.30am bumpy bus ride to Pokhara tomorrow. I wanted topay my park entry fee this afternoon but couldn’t because it’s a publicholiday, which might mean that I have to go all the way through to Pokharato pay it there, rather than hopping off at Dumre. We’ll see.

I’m off to the Swayambunath for the sunset soon, hopefully it’ll stop raining.

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Sunset at the Swayambunath


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Monday 2nd April (Day zero)A combination of getting used to the six hour time differencehere in Nepal and the anticipation of things to come meant I hada fitful sleep last night, so it was no trouble getting up beforesunrise at 5.40am to make my way to the bus depot.

On the bus one of my fellow passen-gers told me that I could pay my parkentry fee at the trail head at Bhulbule –4,000 Rps, which is double the normalfee, but worth it to save valuable time.So I did hop off at Dumre (440m) afterall. Instantly I was nabbed by two likelylads, who turned out to be trekkingguides. I wasn’t interested in hiring aguide but, for the purchase of a handfulof garlic cloves for the highly inflatedprice of 250 Rps, they gave me a greatrun-down on what my options were forgetting from Dumre to the trail head.

By mid-day I found myself sunbumping on the roof of a bus withseveral other trekkers, bound for Beshishahar (823m). Later, agroup of young local guys clambered up and proceeded tosmoke entire joints in a couple of gigantic tokes. Then they brokeinto a crate of tomatoes stowed up there with us and hurled themat groups of people and into shop doorways as we passed. Itwas bizarre – quite out of character with the humourous, buthighly respectful people I’m used to meeting in the Himalaya. Ihope this isn’t a sign of things to come on the busiest and mostWestern-exposed mountain trail in Nepal.

Upon arrival at Beshishahar I immediately crammed into a jeepwith a bunch of other trekkers for the last leg of the journey,

which is too rugged for a bus to negotiate, to the trail head atBhulbule. I managed to get a front seat, so it was a little lesscrowded and I could enjoy the views as we headed upwards. InBhulbule I made a beeline to the permit office, paid my 4,000Rps and took my first step onto the Annapurna Circuit. It felt

magic.

For the next 45 minutes, under an over-cast sky, I built up a sweat pluggingalong to the roar of the MarsyangdiKhola. No-one else followed so late inthe day, so I got a nice little space tosoak up the ambience, arriving in Ngadi(1,000m) in time to write before dinner.

Tuesday 3rd April (Day 1)Today I got going at 6am, throwing inthe towel about 2pm at a village calledChyamje (1,433m). I had intended togo on a further two hours or so, but

eight hours under my pack proved to be plenty on my first properday on the trail.

The early morning was lovely; trail to myself apart from thelocals; cool, but warm enough for shorts and a T shirt. Afterabout 10.30am it gets much hotter, before cooling off againmid-afternoon when clouds roll in.

Apparently those clouds mean snow higher up. I’ve had someconcerning accounts from trekkers coming down from where I’mheaded, that there is too much snow to cross Thorung La. AnAustralian family of three was recently killed by an avalanche inthe Annapurna Sanctuary and four Israelis died higher up on theeastern side of Thorung La. I’ll just have to play it by ear.


Air conditioning, Himalaya-style


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The walking was good, still low altitude, but beside and actually on thespectacular valley walls. Often the trail is a shelf hewn out of the cliffs, highabove the Marsyangdi Khola. Little villages pepper the hillsides above themain trail – it’s a vertical land.

As expected, there are lots oftrekkers about. Surprisingly, manyhave guides, which I think is anun-necessary cost and complication– the trail is impossible to miss.

Here in Chyamje I did the “sit snot-nosed urchin on lap and look atLonely Planet Guide pictures” rou-tine for the first time on this particulartrek. Urchin’s Mum and Grandmajoined in, which was just as well,because Grandma intervened whena boggie avalanche was about tounleash from urchin’s little nose;grabbing a handful, she wiped it un-ceremoniously on the wall.

It’s 3pm. I have nothing more taxingthan shaving to fill the time untildark.

Wednesday 4th April (Day 2)Today I write from a tea house similar to one where we stayed atGosainkund. It reminds me of you and I realize that I’m missing you and theboys already. Jingle jangle – there goes another donkey train. I’ve neverseen so many donkeys in one place. At this lower altitude I guess they arethe alternative to yaks. It’s not uncommon to be held up by a donkey jam –50 or more of the mangy beasts, all laden with wide loads to squeeze past.

I was on the trail at 5.45am this morning, arriving hereat Latamanang (2,400m) about 3.30pm. The routecontinued beside the Marsyangdi Khola, graduallyclimbing, sometimes through forest, with snow-cladpeaks coming in and out of view.

Only a short time after setting off I met Helge, a veryfit German the same age as me. Like me, he appreci-ates the solitude of the early hours up here and wasout enjoying the morning air when I passed his teahouse. We got talking as you do, then he caught upwith me when I stopped for breakfast further along thetrail. Since then we’ve walked together. He speaksexcellent English, so we have enjoyed some greatconversations as we walk.


Above, on the trail above Pisang, before the switch-backclimb to GhyaruLeft, a fine example of the narrowness of the route along theMarsyangdi Khola, before it widened out above Pisang


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Thursday 5th April (Day 3)As I write from the third floor of the Utse Hotel in Pisang(3,183m), snow fall is rapidly covering this little Tibetan-stylevillage beside the Marsyangdi Khola. It’s cold and I can’t helpworrying about the state of the Thorung La, 2,200 metres aboveus.

Helge and I set off from Lata-manang at 6am, arriving here atPisang nine and a half hours later –it was a big day and, one way or theother, tomorrow needs to be aneasy day for the sake of my legs.

But, once again, it was a great day,spent constantly ascending cliffpathways, in and out of yet to blos-som rhododendron forests. Duringthe day, the terrain changed dra-matically from a deep, narrowgorge to a broad open valley. It’shard to imagine how Bill Tilman andhis companions managed to pene-trate the lower reaches of theMarsyangdi gorge back in the 50s,when none of those precarious clifftrails we had just trodden even existed.

I’m coming to appreciate that, although the Annapurna Circuit isthe most frequented of the tea house trails in Nepal, it is no smallundertaking. About 300 km long, it also involves some hugeascents and descents. The snowfall is getting heavier. I couldreally do with my little blonde to cuddle up to tonight. I hope thateveryone is well at home.

Friday 6th April (Day 4)This morning was still cloudy, but we were able to find the trailon the snow covered ground, so decided to make our way up aseemingly endless switch-back trail leading to a little Tibetanvillage called Ghyaru (3,670m). Ghyaru is off the main trekking

route, so most trekkinggroups never go there.This just adds to theappeal of this charm-ing place, perched onthe side of a huge hill-side, looking directlyacross to Annapurna2.

Perhaps because ofthe clear light; and be-cause we could lookback down to the veryfoot of the mountain onthe valley floor 500mbelow us, as well asup, up, up to the sum-mit some 4.4 verticalkms above us, it

seemed to me that I’venever seen a bigger moun-tain than Annapurna 2. Of

course I have seen bigger mountains but, viewed from Ghyaru,a single ridge seemed to climb unbroken from the valley floor allthe way to the summit of Annapurna 2. This emphasized thesheer scale of the mountain in a way I haven’t seen elsewhere.It was very, very impressive.


Under moonlight, two vast ridges snake up from the Marsyangdi Khola to thesummit of Annapurna 2. Between them, an old man’s face appears

to look out at the passing stars


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After settling in here at Ghyaru this morning, I realized that wewere located directly opposite Ghyaru school, commandingperhaps the best view of any school in the world – here is theschool, there is the whole massive face of Annapurna 2. Theentire school roll amounts to about fifteen or so kids, agedbetween about four and ten. They were outside in the littleschool courtyard practicing their reading, so I asked the teach-ers if it was okay to take some photographs. They agreed, so Iwent to photographers heaven for twenty minutes of so. Tofinish, I asked the teachers if they would like a formal schoolphoto taken, which I’ll send copies of back to them from NewZealand. I also got their postal address so that Ben and hisclassmates can send a letter to the Ghyaru kids (which we dida month or so after my return). I hope to one day bring Benback to Ghyaru to visit the school – that would be a wonderfulway to complete the circle.

Later, Helge and I found the old Abbot of Ghyaru Gompa – a realweather-beaten character. He opened up his old monastery andgave us a short tour. It was difficult to understand what the oldman was telling us, but easy to appreciate the ancient sanctity ofthe old gompa; and surprise, surprise, from the roof were morestupendous views, this time framed by strings of weather-beatenprayer flags reaching out at all angles.

It’s been yet another magic day, but as I write now at 2pm, thesnows have returned. Where mighty Annapurna 2 was, now thereis just impenetrable white; and it’s COLD. I have all my layers onapart from my Gortex outer and I could still be warmer. Just timeto kill now, until tomorrow’s adventures begin. I’ve already playedumpteen games of patience and am about to join the fray for theScrabble championship of the roof of the world. We have localcompetition so our low altitude brains will probably struggle.


At right, Ghyaru SchoolBelow, the Abbot of Ghyaru Gompa


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Saturday 7th April (Day 5)Before hitting the sack last night the weather had cleared toreveal a crystal clear, star studded sky and a near full moon.Despite the cold, I couldn’t resist taking the camera and tripodout onto the open balcony at about 4am. The scene was hard todo justice to with words alone. It encapsulated for me all thatdraws me into the mountains in one panorama – gigantic peaksbathed in silken silver; an even more gigantic sky, air-brushedwith constellations; breath-takingly fresh, crisp air; and a roaringsilence. I hope the time exposures capture the feeling better.

At 6am Helge and I climbed the hillside behind Ghyaru, gainingperhaps 200 metres, to a cluster of chortens and prayer flags,where we enjoyed a perfect blue sky dawn. I can’t think of abetter way to build a positive mindset and a major appetite forbreakfast than that.

After breakfast we were ready to resume our journey around thecircuit, heading in the direction of Manang, the largest town onthe eastern side of Thorung La. Both the scenery and theopportunities to interact with the locals continued to be outstand-ing throughout the day. Initially we skirted the northern side ofthe broad upper Marsyangdi valley, later rejoining the valleyfloor. We walked about seven hours, excluding stops, so wereready to put our feet up by the time we reached Manang.

Manang is a large, sprawling Tibetan style town at 3,535 metres,with plenty of comforts to be found. I bought 200 grams of yakcheese, a Mars Bar and packets of crackers. As I write now,from the tea house window I see Gangapurna being washed inorange as the sun goes down.


Dawn, above GhyaruA section on the main route below Manang


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Sunday 8th April (Day 6)Today I nick-named Helge. While I plodded along he powered forth,driving on resolutely, so he is now the Hell-guy. We left Manang atdawn, picking a route across the bolder strewn river flats of theMarsyangdi Khola and then ascending a big river wall to enter a sidevalley, which eventually lead us to Tilicho Base Camp (4,400m)where I now write.

The weather remained clear until mid-afternoon, about the time wearrived at our destination. Like the Ghyaru trail, the path up to TilichoBase Camp is seldom trodden by trekking groups, so we had it toourselves for the entire day. Aside from yet more magnificent vistas,especially those looking back towards Manang, which get progres-sively more spectacular as weascended, there was an interest-ing Tibetan style village calledKhangsar (approximately3,800m) ideally located for abreakfast stop (Tibetan breadand jam, omlette and sweet milktea). Further along the trail wasthe remote Khangsar Gompa, towhich I paid a visit. A lone Monkresides there, who seemed quitehappy for some company.

Although we ended up at 4,400metres at Tilicho Base Camp, weactually ascended higher thanthat, negotiating massive screeslopes, punctuated by strangeweather sculptured limestone for-mations not unlike those you seeat Goreme in Turkey.

Although the Hell-guy could have managed an alternativehigh trail, which avoided these treacherous slopes, myleaden legs and the pounding altitude induced headache Ihad developed as the day wore on meant that the moredirect route was my preferred option.

Crossing these slopes during the heat of early afternoon wasun-nerving to say the least. They were steep, perhaps 40degrees and yawned away, unbroken, all the way to the riverhundreds of metres below. They also carried on for severalhundred metres above us; we constantly had to watch out forhigh speed falling rocks, which whizzed by every now andthen.


Above, one of the huge scree slopes before Tilicho Base Camp

Left, the lone Abbot of Khangsar Gompa


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But we made it unscathed and now, beinghere at Tilicho Base Camp was certainlyworth the journey. The tea house is rustic,but well appointed. We’ve already eatenand will no doubt do so again beforeclimbing into our sleeping bags. All aroundare huge fluted ice walls that seem incred-ibly close, yet I know they are further offthan they appear on account of the fore-shorting effect you get in the mountains.To the west, further up the valley, snakesa tenuous trail leading up to Tilicho Lake(5,200m). We will take this route tomor-row, thankfully without our backpacks, foran acclimatization trip that should stand usin good stead for the main event, theThorung La three days hence.

I’m having a brilliant time up here Lou,especially having teamed up with Helge,who is proving to be a great hiking buddy.I’m certainly getting the “blow-out” Ineeded, but I miss you. I think about littleEdwin and imagine how he’s no doubtchanging day by day; and about Ben, leftbehind again by his Dad. It’s a high priceto pay for the privilege of being here andI’m thinking perhaps that my next visit tothe Himalaya won’t be for a few years. Ilove you all so much and realize how luckyI am to have you. Now I’m crying and needto get my act together with all theseNepalise hard men about.Composure Peter!

Monday 9th April (Day 7)Dawn saw us climbing up aribbon of gravel towards TilichoLake. We crossed more hugescree slopes, before a steep,switch-back section below thesnow line. About half way, inthe soft early morning light, asmall herd of Himalayan Tharappeared ahead of us. Theyactually crossed our trail andthen leisurely made their wayacross the slope above. It wasopen ground, so we got a won-derful opportunity to watchthem up close.

At the snow line we alsoentered my house of pain –the 5,000 metre altitudemark and, yes, I could feelthe onset of a familiar trio -head ache, nausea andlethargy. From there weplodded across a widesnow valley, rounding abend to find Tilicho Lake(5,200m), spread out be-fore us. It was frozen andsnow covered as well, sowe were encased in other-worldly white. We could see

a route around the eastern shore which locals sometimes take as an alternative to theThorung La.


Above, Thar on the trail to Tilicho Lake

Below, Tilicho Lake


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By 9am, sunlight reflecting off the huge snow faces all around ushad transformed the chilly terrain into a furnace. A combinationof the intense heat and my headache drove me off the snow andback down the trail to the tea house, where I now sit recoveringnicely.

So far my health is pretty good – aslight cough up at higher altitudes,which is common. No diarrhea yet –fingers crossed! I must confess tohaving had a bit of help climbing thehill this morning – I ate a little 1,000calorie pack of energy gel given tome by a 65 year old German, namedHerman – fancy that! Herman is aclassic – he treks along at oursprightly 38 year old pace, havingdone a series of Thai boxing coursesas training before coming to Nepal.He is a retired doctor, with impecca-ble manners and charm, who has setup a school for Tibetan refugee kidsdown at Manang. He also providesfree medical help when here. An impressive individual is Hermanthe German, so I look forward to sharing dinner conversationswith him this evening.

Tuesday 10th April (Day 8)Dawn found me stopped in my tracks, gazing admiringly acrossto a white wall of ice that changed to soft pink, then firey redbefore my eyes. We got away before sunrise in order to re-crossthose monstrous scree slopes we tentatively traversed on theway in to Tilicho Base Camp, before the sun unleashed morehigh speed missiles down them.

So, for much of the morning we retraced our steps down towardsKhangsar, but branching upwards before that village on what wethought would be a short-cut back to the main circuit. Wethought wrong, but it didn’t matter, because the views from our

high route were worth theextra effort. The trail took usto upper Khangsar, which isa summer settlement. Weended up with a stupendousview overlooking the mainroute of the Annapurna Cir-cuit, with Manang far belowus. Then there was a kneecrunching descent down tothe Marsyangdi Khola and aslog up the far side of theriver in order to rejoin themain trail; or should I say“highway”.

Until now, on account of ourearly starts and diversions

off the main route, we’ve enjoyed light trekker traffic. But as wenear the Thorung La the situation has become increasinglybottle-necked. As we rejoined the main trail we had our firstclose encounter with a dreaded trekking group – all decked outin white Benny Hill sun hats and plastered in sun cream. I knowthat these groups have as much right as anyone else to be onthe trail and they cop all kinds of flack in anything written aboutHimalayan trekking, but this line of “sheep” being led along by acouple of young local lads with highly inflated egos measured upto the stereo-type. It wasn’t possible to get a “hello” or “namaste”from anyone, including the guides. They all plugged on reso-lutely with gazes fixed to the front.


Above Khangsar on our short-cut


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Never-the-less, we continue to meet plenty of nice peopletoo. As I sit writing in a tea house at Letdar (4,250m) thedinner places are filling with Dutch, French, Germans, Irish,Australians and of course, a kiwi. Helge and I are sharing ourroom with a young Frenchman, Laurent, tonight.

Wednesday 11th April (Day 9)It was cold before dawn as we shouldered our packs anddeparted for High Camp. I had no trouble rousing though; arodent tried to eat my Mars Bar stash, definitely a kickingoffence.

Today was short – only about three and half hours of walking,but an altitude gain of over 500 metres to position us at 4,775metres, in striking distance of Thorung La tomorrow. Early inthe morning it was quite treacherous under foot. On a steepdown-hill section it was all iced up and I certainly would haveappreciated a pair of crampons. The edges of my boots got agood work out.

The weather has been clear all day. We climbed to a lookout about100 metres above High Camp for more glorious views, but thehighlight was the arrival of a huge Himalayan Condor. Its wing-spanmust have been a couple of metres across, allowing it to glideeffortlessly on the updrafts. It appeared at first below us, spiralingupwards high above us, before gliding off into the distance – magnifi-cent.

Back down at High Camp it’s surreal. Trekkers are pouring in, includ-ing several large trekking groups. The mood is impersonal. As I write,sitting across from me is a young man wearing mirror glasses inside.His face is stony and he seems to stare right through me, as if I don’texist. I think he’s trying a tad too hard to emulate the Terminator; butfor why in such an uplifting place?


Ascending a frozen stream, below High CampLooking back down the eastern side of the main route, from above High Camp


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I must confess to feeling a little dauntedabout the crossing tomorrow. Since thoserumours I heard back on Day 1 about snowrendering Thorung La impassable, it’s hadquite a build up in my mind. I have imagesof unpleasant trekker jams, a throbbingheadache and hacking cough all the way tothe pass. I’m now just looking forward toputting it behind me so that we can alldisperse and fan out on the far side. Cross-ing the pass will also remove any uncer-tainty about getting out in time to make myflight out from Kathmandu.

Our plan is to be away by 5am, before alarge English trekking group reaches usfrom an encampment further down the hillat Thorung Phedi. The French Benny Hillsare up here at High Camp and are planningto depart at 4am, so we reckon an hourshould give them plenty of time to spreadout along the snowy trail before we catchthem up. I guess time will tell.

Thursday 12th April (Day 10)As I write it’s 4.30pm I find myself in an-other world – both good and bad. Our planworked better than expected. We set offunder moonlight, climbing steadily. I set thepace, being slower than the Hell-guy, butat this higher altitude he is quite happyletting me moderate and thereby conservehis boundless energy.

Once clear of High Camp, we enjoyed anopen trail bathed in mauve pre-dawn light.Powered by more of Herman the Ger-man’s energy bars, we soon got into arhythm and found getting up to the passless difficult than I had expected. It onlytook us two hours and, aside from someof the rugged porters who had goneahead of their trekking groups, Helge andI were the first to arrive on Thorung Lafrom the eastern side that morning. Thepass was bathed in sunlight. A bewilder-ing array of prayer flag tendrils contrastedboldly with the white of the snow and thecobalt sky.

On the pass was what must be the high-est tea house in the world. We purchasedlittle cups of milk tea, each for 100 Rps.The price tag reflected the altitude – 5,416metres.

As trekkers started to arrive from bothsides of the pass, we decided to maketracks for Muktinath, some 1,600 metresbelow us to the west. The descent wastruly impressive – what a mother of a hill!I certainly didn’t envy those coming upfrom the Muktinath side – that would be avery long haul, especially as the sun cameup and things warmed up.


Top and centre, views as we ascendedthe snowy trail to Thorung LaBottom, at the pass


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But we were heading down and mak-ing quite rapid progress. As we de-scended, our view, framed by twohuge hillsides, gradually broadenedout. The contrast to what we hadbecome accustomed to on the east-ern side was dramatic. The landscapewas much more arid and Tibet-like.As the day wore on, it also becameovercast, creating quite a forebodingatmosphere.

Muktinath is a pilgrim’s town, wherethe gompa provides the central pointof interest. I found it to be ratherunder-whelming and characterless.We walked down a wide dusty mainstreet resembling something out of awild-west movie, but in place of thecow-boys were not particularlyfriendly locals, mostly of Tibetan ori-gin so it seemed. I suppose thisshouldn’t have surprised me given thehigh exposure these people have totourists; and not just trekkers either.The airport at nearby Jomson bringsall shapes and sizes into the area. Allit takes to reach Muktinath is a fewbutt bruises on the back of a donkey.

I found this quite deflating. Althoughwe had at least five more days ofwalking to get out to the trail-head, Ifelt like my trek was over. I could have

almost been back in Kathmandu insome respects. Fresh clean west-erners strolled about, making mefeel like some unkempt wild man.There were internet cafes, bars,lurid signage all over the place. Allthis and, only that morning, we hadbeen hiking through snow above5,400 metres. At least we could seean intriguing fortress-like village,Jharkot (3,500m), in the distance.We decided to carry on to there forthe night.

Jharkot is a medieval fortress town.The fort is derelict now, but its ram-parts still tower over the town. Belowthe fort, little narrow alley ways me-ander between uneven rows oftightly packed mud-brick and plas-tered houses. They are very basic,yet they have electricity and modernplumbing and hordes of grimy kidskick about in western clothes. It’s astrange mish-mash, where it feelslike a feeling of adventure is slowlybut surely being supplanted by tackymass tourism.

So, as I write, now safely acrossThorung La, showered, shaved andwell fed on mousaka and apple pie,I’m not feeling quite as contented asI might.


Above, our first view of the barren, wind-swept landsof the Kali Gandaki valley

Below, Jharkot, as seen from Muktinath


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Friday 13th April (Day 11)All day has been overcast; and it deterio-rated to drizzle in the afternoon. If I wassuperstitious I could put it down to beingFriday the 13th. But having been able to talkto you on the phone from Jomson meantthat it’s been a bright sunny day all day inmy heart. When I left the pokey little postoffice I had a renewed spring in my step,knowing that everything was fine back athome. I caught up with Helge and wemarked my good fortune by locating thecafé selling the largest cake portions intown. Being German, it’s no surprise thatHelge is a cake fiend (like me), so we werein good company pigging our way throughour mighty calorie packed slabs of saucecovered chocolate brownie and yak cheesecake.

This morning we left Jharkot later than ournormal dawn departure, mainly because theweather was dull, but also because, withthe pass behind us, there isn’t quite thesame imperative to keep forging ahead.About an hour’s downhill walking saw us inKagbeni (2,810m). This is the gateway toMustang. I went to the little permit checkpost at the Northern end of the town andgazed wistfully up the Kali Gandaki rivervalley in the direction of Mustang. The townitself is full of character too, situated on thehillside overlooking the river, so it had akind of mystique about it.

It took a further couple of hourswalking beside the dusty,stony river flats of the KaliGandaki to reach Jomson(2,713m), which sprawls outover a large flat area, sportingan airstrip and a five star Hotel.Although it was great to find aphone that worked and ourcake stop was memorable, wedidn’t fancy hanging aboutthere for long. So we walkedon to Marpha in the drizzle. Bythis point Laurent, our Frenchroom mate back at High Campon the far side of Thorung La,had joined us, so we made amerry little band.

Marpha (2,665m) is a lovely,picturesque Tibetan-style vil-lage with a difference. Thelocal Council identified someyears ago that the best way tocapitalise on the tourist tradewas to really look after theirlittle village. They stipulatedthat a traditional white-washedstyle of architecture must pre-vail and that maintaining goodhygiene is crucial. The result isa rather unique little Tibetangem without all the normalgrime and pong.


Above, wide open river flats of the Kali Gandaki before MarphaBelow left, a Himalayan bill board below Jharkot

Below right, one of Marpha’s little alley-ways


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The Gompa, situated atop a steep stone staircase above thetown, is the perfect place to admire the overall effect, but Iparticularly liked exploring the spotless narrow paved pathways,enclosed by white-washed walls.

We headed for our sleeping bags about 9pm this evening, thelatest night I’ve had on this trek sofar.

Saturday 14th April (Day 12)We awoke to more rain andNepalise new-year this morning.While eating cake and coffee wewatched a chicken being slaugh-tered for the days festivities. Later,strolling down the tidy paved mainpathway of Marpha, we watched agroup hold down a sheep whileone of them sawed through itsthroat with a knife. Helge and I feltthe need to slaughter somethingtoo, so we dismembered and con-sumed a ceremonial Mars bar.

By mid-morning it was still raining,so we donned our coats andpacks and trudged out into the murk, walking hard for about fourand half hours beside the Kali Gandaki before arriving atKalopani (2,560m). I was disappointed by the weather becauseit prevented us from seeing even a glimpse of Dhaulagiri. Wehad also missed Manaslu when back up at Kagbeni. At one pointwe passed a side trail that leads up to and around Dhaulagiri. Iwould like to take that trail one day, perhaps with Ben when he isolder and stronger.

I only took two photos today – one of a small gompa at Tuckucheand the other of a swarm of group trekkers and porters, pouringdown a muddy incline, looking for all the world like we weresuddenly in the Lake District in high season. The weather hasn’thelped, but I think this section of the Circuit is the least enjoy-able.

That said, we enjoyed some hu-mour at dinner time when wedined at a government hotelused for training new recruits toNepal’s hospitality industry. Wewere guinea-pigs for the bow-tieand dinner jacketed trainees,who were all charmingly nervousand over attentive. Best of allwas the maitre-d; a NepaliseBasil Faulty to a tee. He hov-ered, he apologised, he cajoledthe trainees. The food was greatand the restaurant was kepttoasty warm by buckets of hotcoals placed underneath our ta-bles – very pleasant.

Sunday 15th April (Day 13)The Hell-guy lived up to his name today. He was a man with amission, Laurent and I followed. I was so knackered by the endof the day that I had no energy to write, catching up a day later.We walked for about ten hours, descending some 1,400 metresand then, from the river below Tatopani (1,189m), we climbedwhat felt like an endless stone staircase, back up to a villagecalled Ghara at about 1,700 metres.


A bank of prayer wheels at the base of the staircaseleading to the Marpha Gompa


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The day started well. A clear dawnfinally revealed Dhaulagiri to me.From the foreshortened perspectiveat Kalopani she didn’t look like an8,000er, but was still impressive.The rain returned about mid morningand became torrential for a while inthe early afternoon. We sheltered ina farmer’s porch for the worst of itbefore hitting the big hill. I slept fornine hours solid that night, mylongest unbroken sleep of the trek.

Monday 16th April (Day 14)As I write from my room on the sec-ond floor of the Perfect View Hotel in Ghorapani (2,835m), I gazeout my open window at a huge mountain, shrouded in severallayers of clouds, but still towering over all the other peaks inview. It is Dhaulagiri, now looking like an 8,000er. Indeed, aperfect view.

Today required one almost continuous 1,100 metre climb, mostlythrough now red, pink and white flowering rhododendron forest.Ghorapani is a bit like a highvillage in the Swiss Alps – verytouristy, but still lovely on ac-count of the fabulous locationon a knife-edge ridge. Thou-sands of trekkers and touristsalike come here every year toenjoy the magnificentpanoramic vista from Poon Hill(3,000m), a short scrambleabove Ghorapani.

That’s mainly why we were there too, but itwas also an important stop for us becausethis was where Laurent and I were tofarewell Helge. He still had energy to burn,so was heading across to the AnnapurnaSanctuary, following mostly the same routeI had done a decade before. And, added tothis, it was his birthday. There was reallyonly one thing for it, I ordered him a Snick-ers bar encrusted, mega chocolatenkucken, which the house manager ceremo-niously presented to him after dinner. TheHell-guy and long time kucken jaeger was

suitably impressed by thechocolate smothered blobwith a big candle stickingout of it, finally cleaning upthe last of it for breakfastnext morning.


Above, Dhaulagiri, seen from Kalopani

Flowering Rhododendron, below GhorapaniLeft, Dhaulagiri, seenfrom Ghorapani


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Tuesday 17th April (Day 15)We joined the madding crowd for a quickpre-dawn dash up to Poon Hill this morn-ing, arriving on top about 5.45am in timeto see the sun paint us a celebration ofnature. It started with a blood red andfirey orange sky silhouetting Machha-puchhare and other beautiful peaks tothe east. Then sun light tinged the high-est peaks with molten orange, transform-ing to warm yellow, then bright white assun rays moved from the summits, slowlydown their massive icy faces. Dhaulagiri,Niligiri, Annapurna South, Hiunchuli; somany peaks to behold. Then I looked atthe foreground – a multitude of brightlycoloured jackets. Hmmm.

Back down at Ghorapani we bid farewellto Helge. Having spent 14 days with, untilthen, a total stranger from the oppositeside of the world, I now shook the stronghand of a new friend. We had much incommon and I’m sure we’ll enjoy themountains together again some day.

He headed west and up, we headedsouth and down, down, down, about1,500 metres, all the way to Narapul, adusty bus stop village marking the end ofmy journey around Annapurna. Anothertwo hour roof-top bone-rattler bus ridesaw me down in Pokhara (915m) by 4pm.


Dawn panoramas from Poon Hill


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Once again, I have that feeling of deep satisfaction at completing aworthy goal; of reconnecting with basic but important truths and gainingnew insights; of making new friends. Now, my excitement at the prospectof seeing you and the boys again is nearly bursting out of my chest.

Getting around Annapurna has been both bitter and sweet, but forreasons that are different than I had expected. Whereas I feared that thetrekking experience could be tacky and commercialized on account ofthe numbers who trek the Circuit each year, I was very pleasantlysurprised to find the variety and quality of the scenery and the range ofoptions to get off the main route along the way. The warmth andirresistible appeal of the local people still shone through. This wasespecially the case on the eastern side of Thorung La. There are goodreasons why the Annapurna Circuit has proved to be so popular.

What proved to be the downside for me wasn’t over-crowding and commercialization, but the longing I felt foryou and the kids. I can’t imagine how the seriousmountaineer can leave their family for months on end totake on life threatening objectives, knowing full well thatthere is a chance that they might never see their loveones again. For me that cost is too high, no matter howsweet success may feel.

Bitter and sweet, yes, but I’ll be back to the abodeof snows, sooner or later. That I do know for sure.


Dhaulagiri commanding another transfixed audience on Poon Hill


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11 Bitter sweet around Annapurna - Occasional Climber › ... › 09 ›...

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