Volume 2

A Good Walk

Just back from a very good walk. It was the type of walk that starts where the road ends and just keeps going. We have no idea how far we actually walked (because distances along the route are all measured in time), but it effectively took the entire month of November. Essentially, we walked around the Annapurna Mountains (one of the highest mountain ranges in the Himalayas). Despite in-depth research (we asked some questions & bought a map) and intense physical training (light stretching) we probably weren't fully prepared for the event. We had no guide, no porters, no detailed guide book or high-tech walking sticks. All of these deprivations cost the economy of Nepal hundreds of dollars but set us free to do our own thing. Boy were we jealous to learn that the people in organized groups that were camping out in tents next to our guesthouses had paid thousands for that privilege.

The walking itself got kind of monotonous as sheer cliffs, raging rivers, soaring eagles, beautiful mountains and amazing waterfalls were so prevalent that it was almost comical. The vastness and enormity of the beauty could never be captured on film (though we tried) and better yet, it kept changing. We effectively walked through all four seasons and numerous eco-cultures. We started in a sub-tropical forest with banana bushes and mosquitoes (elevation 1,500 feet) progressed to high mountain pine forests then to sparsely vegetated high mountains and finally to wind-swept barren rock of the high Himalayas (The highest peak of the range is 8,000 meters high or approximately 24,000 feet), then back down again (through a different canyon).

On a typical day, we woke up with the sun (maybe a rooster or screaming yak), had a hot breakfast in our guest house kitchen (tea, fried potatoes, porridge &/or pancakes), stuffed our packs, paid our bill (a double room was usually $0.50 to $2.00 per night) and hit the trail around 8:00. The trail was often the only path to/through a village, so we shared it with locals, other trekkers, mule trains, livestock, and super-porters. Porters (not Sherpas which are an ethnic group, not a vocation) carried everything up and down the trail that would have been transported by car or truck if there were roads. Their loads consisted either of trekker baggage (usually 2 or 3 packs in addition to their own stuff) or supplies of unbelievable size and weight (4 cases of beer was not an unusual base for a load; one porter was actually carrying a full-sized couch and 2 matching stuffed chairs tied to the couch).

We would stop for lunch when our hunger coincided with a convenient path-side establishment. Dal Bhat (the national meal) was always a good bet because it was good basic food (rice with multiple toppings of lentil soup and vegetable curry) and it was all you could eat (which had a much greater appeal to me than Carrie). We started looking for our evening destination some time between 2:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon because it got cold fast when the sun set behind one of the huge mountains or canyon walls. Choosing a guest house was more an art than a science. Our inquiry process usually included desires such as hot showers (more common than anticipated), a heated table in the dining room (a huge plus at higher altitudes), reasonably clean bedrooms and whatever intangibles seemed important that day (i.e., waterfall view, proximity to bathroom). By the time we had showered, put on warm clothes and finished miscellaneous chores such as purifying water it was usually time for dinner. Dinners varied from hectic social events with many trekkers to very personal evenings where we were the only guests and got to spend time together or with the innkeepers who proved to be extremely interesting and entertaining. Some nights we went wild and stayed up past 9:00, but that was an exception (or a very good card game).

Of course, not all days fit in a typical format. One night about a week in, I woke with a stomachache that I knew was going to be trouble. Sure enough, by morning, I had purged my stomach contents (efficiently using all paths in and out) and half-jokingly pleaded with Carrie to shoot me and go on. Sadly she did not listen to me or even accept the notion that movement was physically impossible. Instead, she hired a porter to carry my pack and convinced me I must get to the next town where there was supposedly medicine for my ailment, which we had diagnosed as Giardia. The fact that the "death march" took about 5 hours was bad enough, but considering that it was uphill and that we started at 11,000 feet made it by far the hardest thing that I have ever done. None the less, I survived with the help of a doctor from New Mexico and a drug that isn't approved in the US (I didn't ask why) and was basically back to normal in 48 hours.

A strange thing happened after conquering the pass. We had no more daunting goal to accomplish. It was downhill from there so we let our slow pace get even slower and really enjoyed ourselves all the way down. We spent two nights in some amazing little towns that many trekkers skipped over altogether. Two to three hours of walking a day now seemed like enough. We managed to make it to Tatopani in time for an impromptu Thanksgiving celebration that included our core group of not-in-a-hurry traveling companions and other miscellaneous friends we had met along the way. It wasn't turkey (Tibetan Goat Steak for me), but the positive feeling was very strong among the 14 multinational attendees, each of whom recognized that he/she had great deal to be thankful for (including the wonderful hot spring pools just down the hill from our hotel). We toasted to our health and to our friends and family back home. We were thankful that we had been able to experience the amazing trek that was almost at an end. We knew it had been special, but we did not know there were more great things ahead.