We wake to a beautiful morning, clear sky, green everywhere , and our first site of snow capped peaks way, way off in the distance. AB has the biggest grin on his face and he says to me and Tony, “ Oh yeah, now I remember, this is what I came here for.” It feels good to be out of Kathmandu in the fresh open air, away from people hasseling us on the streets, away from the traffic, away from a way of life that we have grown up with and yet they are trying to become. It scares me to think how western the entire world is becoming and I wonder if in the future if anyone will value their traditions or will we all be eating at McDonalds and wearing jeans. I already hear that in certain parts of the world different languages are dying out and being replaced by what is more well known, like English. Is it evolution or is our modernization taking over, making everyone unacculturated, making them loose their own song or their own sense of being. I know that I wish I knew more about my ancestors, where they lived, what they believed in, and what was the song in their hearts before Christianity and their coming to America blended them in with everyone else.
We get to a late start, because we awoke the latest of all the other trekkers. They are all packed up and enjoying their last sips of black tea by the time we get a table. Jeremy left at six in the morning skipping breakfast altogether, probably because he didn’t want to spend anymore money than he absolutely had to. After breakfast we strap ourselves into our backpacks which we will carry everyday for the next fifteen to sixteen days through rain and shine. Walking onto a rocky trail which acts more like a small babbling brook we leave behind the pothole ridden road that ends at the base of the Annapurna foothills. From hear we will follow the Marsyangdi River until we reach the height of our journey the pass of Thorung La at 17,769 ft. I hope I can handle this journey, because there is no easy and comfortable way to get out of the mountains and if I have problems it will be a bitter experience for me. My pack is heavy and I have a liter of water swinging at my side, but I manage to glide over worn rocks in my brown hiking boots and long skirt. Skirt? Yes, I am wearing a skirt which for those who don’t know me is a rare occasion, but here in Nepal it is more respectful to wear a long dress or skirt than pants and especially shorts. People don’t show a lot of skin here, and in their culture a pair of pants actually shows way too much of a lady’s figure for their liking. Those who do choose to wear shorts, tank tops or tight clothes will be stared at by both men and women. I want to leave as little impression on these people as possible and I certainly want it to be a positive interaction so I will be as respectful of their beliefs as I possibly can.
AB walks ahead of us and it doesn’t take him long to be what seems miles ahead of us. After a couple of hours Tony and I are clumsy on the water filled trail, delicately trying to keep our feet dry and I mistake a patch of grass for solid ground and end up sliding off the side of the trail onto the a joining rice terrace which sits three feet lower than the actual trail. My pack makes the clumsiness worse because the slightest stumble pushes all my weight in it’s direction and as I am clinging onto this one rock trying to clamor back up on the trail the weight on my back is pushing me and the rock further backwards. I can already feel the burning of a scrape on my leg as a curse my way back onto the trail in the grasp of Tony’s hand. Tony gently rubs my shoulder and asks if I am okay and I reply yes even though I am really hating myself because I feel like a complete idiot. Here I am all concerned about the people and the respect of their environment and then I go and fall on their rice paddy, now how’s that for a tourist!
We bend forward as we cross a bamboo bridge which consists of a bundle of bamboo sticks tied together with wire and rope. The railing sits low almost on what you would call the floor of the bridge and each step you take you feel the bridge bouncing to your rhythm. Heavy loads are carried over this bridge everyday and I assume that the low railing supports the weight of the cargo being carried on a person’s back. I cross the bridge with no problems although I will admit that the rushing water beneath it makes me dizzy. Over a small ridge I can hear the rumbling of our true water source the Marsyangdi a grey river constantly rushing and churning its way out of the mountains. It is the late monsoon and the river is at it’s highest level and it’s performance heeds warning to those who would dare try to cross it; For this is a river that would surely break you and swallow you whole. People are busy at work all along the trail, transporting goods, controlling a herd of pack mules loaded with supplies, and building and repairing parts of the trail. Some people greet us with friendly smiles and shake our hands. They ask if we like Nepal with big shining smiles and when we say yes they put their hands together and say, “Oh, very good, Namaste!” Sometimes we pass women who will hide their faces from us, probably fearful that we will take their picture or shy and maybe even afraid of Tony and AB.
The Annapurna sees loads of tourists every year and at the height of the trekking season two hundred trekkers a day could pass through a single village. It is no wonder why these women would hide from us because I am sure there are people who come here with no respect for privacy and snap pictures without asking. However, you also have to be amazed with the friendliness of these people having to deal with this all of the time. I know if my front yard was a tourist attraction I would be very bitter and edgy all of the time. Perhaps they can live with this because they know that these treks bring in money which allows them to live high up in these mountains without having to move to a larger city for work. Sharecropping is income for some, but the majority here are working the tourist circuit, transporting goods, running inns, cooking food, keeping the trail cleared, checking permits, and selling those essential items like toothpaste or a dry pair of socks that we run out of on these sorts of trips.
We stop for lunch just after noon and our taste buds jump with enthusiasm when we find out they have ice cold coca-cola and sprite to drink. Apparently we can or we should be able to get soft drinks and beer at almost every village we stay in. AB calls it the Coca-Cola trail and I am amazed that people would carry these glass bottles in and out of the circuit just to make us feel more “at home”. It is nice to get that sugar fix after hiking in the hot tropical heat all day, but it does take away from that feeling of being in a far off place that time forgot. We run into the other trekkers who are just getting ready to hit the trail again. Jeremy is with them and he chats with us briefly asking us what village we are going to stay at for the night and how we are handling the trip so far. Other than sweating a rain storm, especially AB we are all doing fine, but my feet are soaked after walking in water for most of the day. Taking my boots off is great, but in about forty-five minutes I will have to put them back on again and that will feel worse. All three of us order a plate of fried potatoes glazed in curry sauce. During the course of our trip we will all order the same meal, not that it has to be potatoes, but whatever we pick to eat we each have to have the same thing. This is because it is easier for the people to cook, since they only work out of a small kitchen and there is usually only one or two people making the food. Full of carbohydrates we suit up for the trail which steadily climbs higher above the Marsyangdi.
6:00PM
The sun will sent in about another hour and we are still hiking looking for the village of Bahundanda where we are supposed to sleep. We keep passing people and have asked them how much further to Bahundanda and they say thirty minutes, but I can tell you we have passed thirty minutes over four hours ago. Nepalese walking time is measured on a different scale compared to out of shape western tourist hiking time. Worst of all is that the tropical heat and endless hours of hiking has taken its toll on AB who has slowed up a great deal behind me and Tony compared to when we started in the morning. Tony and me stop to take a rest near a small farm house and wait for AB and it takes him a good twenty minutes to come in site of us. I am worried that it will be dark before we reach the village so I go on ahead while Tony stays behind with AB. I am amazed by the great burst of energy I’ve received and I can suddenly skip over large rocks on a steep incline. I almost feel like I am running, perhaps my adrenaline has kicked in from being so worried about getting where we need to be. I’m getting pretty far ahead and I still don’t see any signs of a village, only a few small farms. I stop for another rest and wait on the boys and with in fifteen minutes I see Tony rushing up the trail.
“AB is in bad shape, his legs are cramping up and he is having trouble walking!”
“What should we do, I still don’t see a village.” I say.
“Give me the rest of your water, because AB is almost out and I’m afraid he will pass out from dehydration.” Tony explains.
“You go back with AB and I will try to find the village or the next house and get some help.”
Again I am back in my sprint up the mountain hoping that the next bend will bring me to a village. After another twenty minutes of speed hiking I come face to face with a hotel and two trekkers having dinner at a picnic table. I am out of breathe and the both look at me with concern. Out of the darkness of the kitchen a man comes towards me and he is glowing with joy from ear to ear. He claps his hands together and says, “Room, yes?” I barely make out a yes from my heavy panting and it takes great effort for me to explain that there are two more coming with me. He simply grins at me and says, “No problem, plenty of room for you and food too, yes.” He shows me to the rooms and without even really looking at them I say, “Great!” and throw down my pack. My only concern right now is finding AB and Tony but relieved that I have finally reached Bahundanda in the little light that is left outside. I tell the two trekkers my situation and they are immediately concerned offering to come down the trail with me and carry AB. Luckily I peak over the railing and I can see Tony and AB slowly making there way up. I rush down the trail after them and both of them look at me with distressed faces. “Did you find anything, yet?” asks Tony. “Yes, your almost there it is just around the bend I got rooms and everything.” Every step AB takes is followed by a moan of pain and he continues to grab at his calf muscles while sweat pores from his body. I feel bad because there is nothing I can do, but watch and urge them on. I offer to carry AB’s backpack, but he won’t let me, saying it is too heavy. I know he just wants to get there and stopping would just be more torture for him to endure. I am relieved that his journey will be over in just a few more steps.
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