Nepal 2: Pokhara to Low Camp

After eating and sleeping I woke up early in Pokhara, again ready to finally gaze upon snowy Himalayas.  I couldn’t see the Himalayan range but could see the foothills from our balcony and the air tasted so sweet particularly after Kathmandu.  It was warm but with a cool mountain breeze and sunny with a bit of haze.  There were butterflies and colorful birds and green grass with cows munching away.  The lake reflected bright green and brown hills.  I felt better right away as we ate our breakfast, drank our coffee and gazed out at the lake.

The hotel in Kathmandu had offered us a package tour and this fancy hotel was going to do the same but it was clear the tours cost twice what we would pay if we arranged ourselves with an independent guide.  The tour would cost twice as much yet the guides themselves would get less.  Looking back after our trip I would highly advise anyone to go to Nepal and see it for yourself, and to support the economy there.  Unless you are planning to go to very remote Tibetan areas there is no absolutely no reason to pay in advance for a package tour.  Our guide arranged everything that the tour company would have for half the cost, and the guides themselves got 3 or 4 times as much money.  These companies play on anxieties that the logistics of trekking in the Himalayas will be hard to arrange, but the trekking routes are set up so nicely to facilitate tourism and its incredibly easy to find a guide independently.

  We arranged for a taxi driver to take us to the city center where we could look for a guide.  We told the taxi driver we would trek and he said he could call his friend to be our guide.  He had a kind, sincere-looking face and we didn’t know what else to do so we trusted him to arrange it.

He took us to a little park by the lake and advised us to walk to the market while we waited for the tour guide and porter.  We didn’t find the market but did find a bench to sit on under a beautiful banyan tree by the lake.  There were butterflies and sacred Hindu cows and when we sat we were covered in ladybugs of many patterns and shades of red and black.

            We drove again for a bit then waited again, then drove to the permit office where we met our guide Krishna and our porter Sea pronounced “She.”  The driver was Krishna’s friend and named Hare, so together they were Hare Krishna, it was a shame we couldn’t take Hare with us. Krishna and Sea were smiling and looked like nice company as well as legitimate mountain men.  They said it was better if we went into the office alone and put on paperwork that we weren’t taking a guide.  It would be more complicated to arrange permits with a guide.  We were booking permits for the Mardi Himal trek, a newly opened trek that seemed to be one of the best options to get up above the treeline to higher elevation over the few days we had.

            Arranging the permit is one of the things that the package tours included to justify charging twice as much money, and it truly couldn’t have been easier to do ourselves; we filled out two little forms and gave them passport pictures.  We waited at two different desks for 10 minutes then got our permits.  It was unbelievable how well organized this was compared to everything else in the country, it is clear how much the government values the trekking industry and making it convenient and efficient.

            We got our guides and finally were headed up towards the Himalayas.  We wound through the foothills that grew bigger and bigger until we were looking down on green valleys, rice terraces and snaking rivers winding on as far as the eye could see in all directions.  We stopped at a tiny village where Tibetan refugees tried to sell us jewelry.  Sea bought some rope and took my bag and Monica’s as we agreed to trade off carrying Adriana’s.  Just like that we were off.

            I had mixed feelings about getting a porter as I’m not generally keen to make someone carry my stuff around all day, but it was clear it would make a difference particularly with it being Monica’s first high altitude trek.  We heard a lot of stories about porters who were overworked, whose pride wouldn’t allow them to admit they couldn’t carry loads that would break their backs, and we also heard about the caste system where porters were looked down upon, insulted and degraded as they struggled for years hoping to someday rise up to the position of guide.  In the Everest region they have a porter village where they must stay as they are not allowed into the normal basecamp area.  Yet our guide and porter were good friends and the two bags he carried seemed a reasonable load for someone so fit.  The 20 dollars we paid a day was 5 times what many workers made here and would clearly support not only Sea but a wide web of family members.

It was still hazy grey as we started up steep stone steps past little stone houses with grassy green lawns where kids sat out front and yelled “Hello, chocolate?”  Soon the weather deteriorated and lightning flashed and hail and rain came down.  It felt good at first but as we got pounded harder and harder by hail the flashes of lightning got more dramatic and the crashes of thunder threatened to shake us off the mountain.  A mountain wind blew in and the cold air slapped us in the face as we came over a ridge to Australian camp to have lunch.

            Australian camp was what a typical lodge would look like throughout the trek; a square concrete building with long benches around tables and thick windows.  The storm got worse for a bit as we enjoyed our curry and tea.  Towards the end of the meal I went out to the bathroom and the door slammed open in the wind as I left.  As I got out of the bathroom I looked up and there, in a hole in the clouds, a triangle of bright white snow and brown rock winked at me.  I went in to tell the others where to look and then I got goosebumps as the haze formed into big poofy clouds that drifted upwards, and the higher they went the more ice and snow we could see until we were seeing glaciers and mountain faces that rose higher and higher as the clouds unveiled a greater and greater panorama.  I had missed out on the distant view of the mountains getting bigger and bigger, but by waiting to reveal themselves until we were 10 km or so away the Himalayas unveiled the curtain in the most dramatic fashion imaginable.

            The mountain-view brightened everyone’s mood as we followed a stone path across grassy fields and through patches of forest.  The sky was silver with patches of thick grey clouds throughout and the mountains were like a faint illusion, purple and blue and brown and pale white stabbing through the bright white poofy clouds of sky.  The sky began to clear until it was a patchwork of clouds and we saw green hills then lines of snow covered mountains leading up to the line where the earth turns vertical at the Himalayan range itself.  The path sparkled as the sun hit the wet grey stones.

            We got into camp around 4 pm.  We haven’t been able to find the name of the place we stayed that night but it was just two simple lodges and some farm land with goats and chickens around it.

            Another thing the package tours had advertised was reserving accommodation in advance.  Our guide went up to the people who owned the first of two guesthouses and said we needed a room for 3 people and we took our stuff in.  Again, logistics are not so hard to arrange independently, don’t book a package tour in Nepal.

            There was a row of simple rooms with beds and not much else.  There were picnic tables outside and a little room that served as a kitchen and common room.  We ordered tea and sat and we were staring now at Annarpurna south which had enormous masses of snow leading down it into a glacier.  To its left we saw more distant Himalayan mountains off to Manaslu, the 7^th tallest in the world.  Still mostly veiled in snow was Machapuchare to the right, the closest Himalayan peak at just under 7,000 feet.  Machapuchare is an incredibly steep, sharp peak that is also called fishtail; from certain angles it does look like one.  It has never been climbed to the peak which is off limits due to its sacredness to Shiva.  Hindu or not I think most of us would agree to not mess with the destroyer God on a steep snowy mountaintop.

            Sea and Krishna taught us some Nepali card games that were very similar to ones we knew like Blackjack but with slight variations.  We sat and played cards for an hour then around sunset I wandered up to a hill and the sun glared off the snow at the base of Annapurna as the top dimmed.  Te line of darkness descended until all turned blue, then purple and at last black.

            The guesthouses on the Himalayan trekking routes are regulated and basically have the same menu although it varies some and the prices go up as you go to higher elevations.  The most popular item by far is dal bhat, which they bring on a giant silver plate with smaller bowls around the side.  “We run on dal bhat power, 24/7” was a common rallying cry from Krishna and Sea that echoed throughout the Himalayas.  Even as a proud food shoveler myself I marveled through the trek at how much rice the young men put down in a single sitting.  

The dal bhat encompassed a lentil curry with onion, garlic, ginger, chili, tomatoes, cumin, coriander and other masala spices.  Its served with rice and a potato curry, a mixture of steamed vegetables, and crispy or roti bread.  When you order dal bhat you can ask for a refill on any of the items and often they came around with the curry and rice pressuring us to eat more.  Lentils and rice are such great trekking food and everything was prepared using local vegetables that grew up there on the mountain.  While eating this food and trekking for an extended period I imagined getting incredibly strong and fit.  Backpacking and eating packaged meals that taste good in extreme circumstances has its merits, but I could get used to trekking all day and arriving to freshly prepared vegetarian curry every evening.

            Beyond dhal bat most menus had a couple other types of curry available, as well as pizza, spaghetti, mo-mo (Nepalese dumplings) and potato dishes including a “potato rosti” that was like mashed potatoes in a big ball with cheese baked in. We typically ordered lots and lots of momo with our curry because really, when you’re trekking all day what does it matter how many dumplings you eat?!  I suppose this is my downfall in losing weight, working out but justifying unlimited portions…it doesn’t actually work out even trekking in Himalayas.

            I had a beer with the meal which ended up costing more then the entire meal otherwise, and being a bit up at elevation while drinking a beer hit me in the most excellent way: I got giggly and started doing somersaults around my bed and yelling silly nonsensical things.  It felt like the first time I ever tried a beer and rolled around my friends basement acting like a child.  At the higher elevations I did not drink anymore but would up feeling the same way off the high mountain air.

            After a nice deep sleep I woke up just before sunrise.  I went outside and it was crystal clear and the outline of the mountains was becoming visible.  I climbed up the little hill behind our lodge and did some sun salutations and then sat and meditated a little bit.  I was doing the loving kindness Buddhist meditation I learned recently, it starts with “May I be peaceful, may I be happy, may I be filled with loving kindness” then radiates out into wishing the same onto loved ones and eventually all of mankind.  I was meditating on Monica and Adriana being happy while wondering why they were missing the sunset: may you be happy, may you be peaceful, may you be filled with loving kindless.  They appeared on the roof of the hotel just below me and were glaring at me which was strange as I was meditating on their happiness. They mocked me: “look at him just meditating over there.”  It turned out that I had locked them in the bedroom.  The doors locked from the outside and they had banged the door and screamed for 20 minutes as I enjoyed the sunrise before the guide finally let them out.  It was a great example of how actions can be stronger than intentions as I was meditating on their happiness while my actions of locking them in the room had a much stronger impact.

            The sunrise was gorgeous as little by little the mountains came into the light and began to glow a vibrant pink.  The sky turned from a pale blue into a pure rich dark hue.  There was not a cloud in sight.

            I struggle to explain the appeal of the mountains to those who’ve never been up at elevation.  At high elevation the world is larger.  Normally you can see perhaps half of a full 360 sphere in each direction; you can see the sky above your head and then in some directions, although trees or buildings may be blocking some directions.  When you are up in the mountains all of a sudden you can also see the sky and the ground below you, so the view comes closer and closer to a full 360 degrees which is achieved on top of the highest mountains.  In Nepal the spaces between the mountains were unfathomably big and the mountains themselves were unfathomably high, and we saw all the forests, canyons, rivers and waterfalls below us and snow and ice leading up towards the peaks far above our heads.  The world was truly bigger.  And something about the high altitude makes the sky, the sunshine, the leaves, the plants seem brighter.

            We had breakfast in the shadow of Annapurna and the warm masala was perfect against the morning chill; then the sunlight hit us and warmed us to the core.  The eggs were fresh from a mountain chicken with vegetables from the mountain garden.     

            We hiked into an enchanted forest.  Crooked trees were covered in beards of moss.  We went into a thick rhododendron forest and the fallen flowers and leaves formed a purple and green carpet.  There was silver in the rocks and when the sunlight hit them the forest floor literally glowed in the sunlight; a tapestry of purple flowers, brown dead leaves, fresh green leaves, and florescent green moss.

            The path wound uphill but for the most part it wasn’t steep and it was all soft.  We stopped at a little shrine that was built into the side of the mountain and gazed down on canyons and waterfalls far below.

We walked most of the morning until we got to forest camp where there was a big grassy field where we lay down and stretched out while waiting for lunch in the shadow of the bright white snow fields of Machapuchare.  There were ladybugs and colorful butterflies around and a cow on the edge of the field that said “curry, curry” repetitively in unison with the longings of my tummy.  There was a nice little garden filled with tasty herbs and veggies, including one fun herb in particular I recognized from my stint in Colorado...

  We had our dal bhat and then went back to lie on the grass some more and the sun was suddenly scorching and I felt like I could use a nap, so we stayed for awhile before it was time to counterintuitively head upwards to Low Camp.

            The path to Low Camp was more of the same, a glittering forest that started to get a bit more steep and rocky towards the end.  We hiked for 3 or 4 hours until we got to “low camp.”  There was still forest around but the trees were thinning a bit and there were big open pastures occupied by large groups of cows.  We got to a clear, closer view of Machapuchare that was covered up as the clouds raced in.

  There was a group of hippies playing ukuleles and didgeridoos. We met a woman from Colorado named Katie and she used to be a pilot who flew illegal immigrants back to Latin America from the USA.  One day she had the realization that borders are stupid arbitrary made up lines and anyone should have the right to go where they want and do what they please, and she quit the Department of Immigration hellhole to roam the Earth.  She was with her Nepalese boyfriend Sajit who was a guide and had done a lot of trekking in the Everest and Kashmir region.  Sadly but ironically the ex Immigration Department employee was struggling like so many others against impossible bureaucracy in dreams of getting Sajit a permit to visit her in the US.   Sajit had great stories as well as complaints about the big tour companies that make unbelievable profits and pay guides starvation wages.  For the last time, if you go to Nepal book your guide directly so the money goes into their pockets!

         We played more cards and sat and talked and went to sleep early in a freezing cold mist.  There was a clattering of cowbells and my subconscious mind traced the cows paths' up and down the hillside as they lulled me to sleep.