Journal Entry 14

Friday September 21

My menstrual cycle has started, it's a minor inconvenience but I still wished it would have waited until the hiking was completed. We are heading towards Ghasa today and I also noticed today that I missed a couple days worth of doses of malaria medicine. I feel fine but it's a little unnerving to know you were walking around unprotected. I might not feel symptoms until I'm back home if I was infected,but there's nothing I can do now but wait and see. 

Villagers on this side of the trek are a little more worn down by tourists. They don't smile as much or seem open to talking to us. I had a little boy walk by me after I greeted him, "Namaste!" and yell "Namaste Stupid!!!" 

It's dirtier and hotter too. AB is back to sweating profusely with the return of this sub tropical temperatures. The trail is constantly loaded with mule shit and puddles of piss and it takes great effort to keep your feet clean and dry. I'm missing the other side. We have made some new friends with three guys from Denmark. They crossed Thorang La with us but every evening since we end up in the same guesthouse. All three of them are blonde and extraordinarily tall especially next to me. 

Journal Entry 13

Thursday September 20

The morning in Muktinath brings another long walking day for the three of us, but the journey is relatively flat and goes down the valley of a new river we will follow called the Kali Gandaki. It should be easy which is a nice change from the constant climbing we've been doing. I fatten up on a Tibetan omelet with yak cheese and bread and we are out the door by eight o'clock. It would have been great to stay in Muktinath for a few days because there is a lot to see here but, we don't have many days left in our trip before returning home. We haven't really thought about the terrorist attacks back home, but now with seven days left in Nepal we are wondering if getting back to Kathmandu early will be safer in case we have trouble with our flight. None of us have talked to anyone who could clue us in to what it's like in the United States right now. What if all flights into the United States are canceled and we have to stay in Nepal longer. I wouldn't be upset to stay longer except for the fear of running out of money, but I imagine our families are probably very worried too.

The land around us is still dusty, brown and dry, but irrigated fields along the path bring beautiful pink flowers of buckwheat to life. It's a beautiful sight underneath the clear blue sky. We pass Indian pilgrims all dressed in white on their way to Muktinath. They stop us with excitement introducing themselves with palms together telling us about their pilgrimage. We also see many well groomed backpackers coming along who are hiking the trail the opposite way of us. Soon they will have to tackle the long climb to Thorung La, but oh what an incredible experience it is. As we round the bend and hike into the river bed I think about all the people we have met on this trip. The Israeli man who swam in any stream, lake or waterfall he came upon and almost killing himself in the glacier lake near Manang. The German team led by a bleachy haired and kitty-paw fleece wearing man whom AB affectionately named, Colonel Clink. The four of them conquered the trail always in a perfect straight line with walking sticks swinging in unison. There was a beautiful blonde girl in their group that we named, The Hot Nazi which I know is horrible to make a joke out of, but we mean nothing bad. Jack and Trisha who have by now summited Pisang Peak and will follow our footsteps in just a few days. There are many more faces of course, but time is flying by and especially now as we tread faster and faster to get to the end of our trip. So sad to see that the end is near and all the friendships we made are lost in our rush to get out. Couldn't we just say, "Screw it all" to those obligations back home? We could be free to take our time and be with friends in these beautiful mountains.



What a long day it's been for all of us. We walked for 8 hours today, Muktinath, Jomosom, to Tukche. I've not even recovered from crossing Thorung La so today's walk reopened all my sore spots. It was sunny and dry but the wind was fierce as it traveled through the mile wide river canyon. It kicked up all the sand and dust which pelted us so hard we were forced to turn our backs to the wind. We walked the canyon with many pilgrims, hikers and porters and each time the wind cut through I could see people turning away and bracing themselves while the scarves wrapped around their faces twirled violently in the wind. We stopped briefly to eat in the dry dusty village of Jomosom but did not take any time to explore. Jomosom is the capital of the Mustang region complete with it's own airport and it's the busiest town we've been to on the trek. This is the last spot to get supplies, permits and contact with the outside world before heading into more remote parts of the Mustang Kingdom. We mail a few postcards and then very quickly we are blazing the trail again. I fell like we were racing today so that we can reach Tukche before nightfall. There isn't much talking among ourselves as we were all just heavily focused on the walk. The soundtrack in my head is blaring The Doors, 5 to 1 and Riders On The Storm over and over again. I wonder how these songs just pop into my head. What is it in the air that I feel or the thing I see that makes a song play in my mind. Whatever it is I'm just glad they are songs I enjoy. Feeling tired and haggard I am a stranger again when we settle into our hotel for the night because I do not recognize any of the other hikers. I have sand in my teeth and sand in my hair but the water has no heat so I don't brave a shower. It feels good to collapse and I'm fast asleep in minutes. 

Journal Entry 12

Part 2


"Clank, clank, scrape, clack, clink, scrape, scrape, clank!" It's like the sound of fingernails dragging across a chalkboard. I'm making my descent down a long wide path of pebbles and dust. Behind me at least sixty feet away a young man follows me sporting those industrial strength trekking poles and every step he makes I can hear as if he is walking right next to me. The serenity I'm trying to soak in is unfortunately being absorbed by those trekking poles needling their way through the broken rock. I stop for a rest and watch this man approach me. Looking at him it almost seems more cumbersome to walk with them versus without. For one thing he isn't a very tall person and the poles seem to be longer than he is. He stretches his arms far forward stabbing his sticks into the earth before moving his feet forward. Maybe that's how it's supposed to be, but regardless I'm annoyed and want him to get far ahead of me so I don't have to listen to that noise. He doesn't even have a big backpack like the forty pounds that I'm carrying. Somewhere on this mountain he has a nice porter lugging his pack for him and I bet his porter wanted to be as far away from him as possible too.

Moving on, my toes are bumping the front of my boots all the way down and I imagine when I take them off later I'll have a few black toenails. I no longer need all the clothing I put on to keep warm. I'm sporting 3 layers of pants, and about 4 tops with a hat and gloves on. I'm roasting so bad, but there isn't anywhere to hide so that I can remove clothing. I have to use the toilet also and I'd rather not show the world what I'm up to. It's times like these when I wish I were a guy, but maybe my problem is that I'm giving a shit about what someone might think. I'm only human right? Lucky for me I spot a small settlement that looks abandoned,,, perfect. I cannot believe I went from wearing layer upon layer of clothing to a t-shirt and pants in just under an hour.
When I catch up with Tony and AB they are resting on the first patch of grass we've seen since Manang Valley. I throw down my pack and stretch out on the grass along with them. We've been going non-stop for seven hours now without food or rest. I don't realize how worn out I am until I'm laying down. My eyelids are heavy and the warm sun and breeze make for a great lullaby. "Clink, clack, clack, scrape." "That sound!" There he is again, he must have taken a break and I passed him up. "That fucking dude." AB grumbles keeping his eyes closed. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that way." I chuckle as I cock my head back up the mountain to see where he is coming from. Mr. Pole decides to take a rest in almost the same spot we are. The peace and quiet is over when he digs in his day pack and crinkles open a chip bag. We lay there for a few moments listening to the bag crinkling and the chips crunching, but trying are best to hear beyond that and remember why we are here. It doesn't work, poor dude, everything about him is irritating but, I'm sure he means well.

Muktinath



We reach goat herds and fields of buckwheat before making our way into the village of Muktinath. I look back at the mountain pass, which now sits far off in the distance. Funny, it doesn't look so difficult from here. The valley isn't cut as steeply as it was from the Manang side. It's not as green and lush, but brown with a dusty wind blowing in from time to time. This is the gateway to Mustang, a remote kingdom that straddles the border of Nepal with Tibet. I would love to visit Mustang but you need special permits to go there and we just don't have the time.
Muktinath looks beautiful, with it's Hindu and Buddhist temples and oddly enough trees. This is an odd place for trees to grow because of it's elevation 12,460 feet and so it has become a sacred site for both Hindu's and Buddhists. Hindu's come here to worship Vishnu and among Hindu's, Muktinath is known as the "place of salvation." There are 108 fountains with cow head sculptures protruding from them and each shots water from it's mouth. People walk in the fountain letting the cow heads soak them in sacred water, even if it's freezing cold out. I don't have the energy to explore this place and I feel as if I'm dragging my feet through it's pathways. It's going on eight hours since we've had a decent meal. I stink,I'm covered in dust and I've burned my face and arms in the sun. Despite all that I'm in good spirits, but in a way I'm starting to feel sad. My journey is almost over.

Journal Entry 12

Wednesday September 19

5:00AM the sky is just beginning to show hints of daylight. The mountains like great shadows towering around us and the stars are radiating with light. It wasn't easy waking up in the cold, my breath heavy with ice crystals and my face raw against the biting temperature. I'm scrambling in the dark with a small flashlight clenched in my teeth trying to get my gear all packed up. I'm wearing every layer I can but my backpack still feels as heavy as it did when I started this trek. Heavy,,, that is the word of the day for me. AB is excited to start the walk as he bounces up and down to keep warm in the dim light.
Bending our knees we take slow easy steps up the hill. The earth is brown and grey with not an ounce of green. At least there is not any snow or ice to contend with because the trails will worn edges don't leave much room for error. We are all silent focusing on our breaths and trying to keep good balance as our packs pull us backwards. The suns light is hitting the highest peaks now and on a distant mountain side I can see blue sheep grazing. Snow leopards also roam this area, but they are very difficult to see and with a powerful sense of smell would probably disappear long before any human could lay eyes on him. Even the blue sheep are hard to make out and it's only when they move that I know they are there.
We reach upper base camp and the sun hits our faces as we make it out of the steepest portion of the pass. It's low season for crossing the pass so the lodge is cold and empty. The air is thinner and it's not good to sit still for too long and people only take short breaks to drink water before marching on. I lean on one of the lodge posts and watch trekkers go by. I feel sleepy and it seems too early to feel this way but when I start to move my knees actually feel like they are refusing my commands to go onward. I have a dull headache that I know is only going to get worse so I've got to get moving. Tony isn't too far ahead of me, but among the group of trekkers that set off with us I cannot pinpoint where AB is on the trail. Almost everyone making the crossing is a guy, tall and lanky and they easily pass me with their great strides. I want to speed up but find myself exhausted with every extra push I try to give. I feel like I am the last person of the group, so slow that I finally see AB watching and waiting for me to see if I'm okay. He sits on a boulder and asks, "You alright?" I'm out of breath, but manage to belt out a, Yes. "You have to get moving, it's too cold to go slow." I tell him I have a headache and he says, "Even more reason to get to the top quickly, so that we can all go down." "My bag is digging into my back and rubbing my skin raw, it's painful to move." I try and defend myself. AB takes my pack and adjusts all my straps for me and says, "This is what we decided in the beginning that we would do this ourselves without the help of porters." "Robyn you can do this, just breathe and you'll be at the pass in no time. He holds my pack up for me to slip back into and nods with approval, "Better?" I give him a thumbs up and he moves on.

Up here everything you've suffered from increases and it's not something you can ignore. All those muscle aches, sores, blistered toes, stomach ailments and other less than pleasant things take on a new life. Humans are clearly not meant to live up here. The evidence of how dangerous this can be makes itself clear as we follow along a ridge dotted with memorial markers from those who died trying to cross Thorong La in years passed. Stones are etched with names and dates and rocks are stacked in small piles around the grave markers. The landscape opens more for us and it's as if we are in a giant bowl surround by jagged teeth. Arid and dry, the sun is blinding against the white snow-capped peaks and the wind picks up under a dark blue cloudless sky. "Just sleep." the wind whispers to me. "Lay down under this glorious sky and sleep for me." My companion the wind is getting stronger the further I go and she is just about the only thing I can hear with the exception of my heartbeat which seems to have moved from my chest to my eardrums. I can't quench that desire to breathe in deeply now, it's just not there. I stop to drink more water, "Am I the last human standing?" A few more steps and I can see that the gateway to the other side is near. Millions of prayer flags blowing violently are strung across a mass pile of stones. A tiny cabin with smoke coming from a chimney also comes into view and all the hikers pepper the brown landscape in all the shades of the latest camping outerwear. I feel like I am walking into some sort of outdoor party or festival. It's suddenly very crowded and everyone is smiling and talking. A few hours ago we were all keeping to ourselves not even acknowledging each other. My last few steps are greeted with applause and Tony rushes up to kiss me on the cheek, shouting, "We did it!" AB is at the cabin sipping tea and gives me a nod with a big smile. The wind is ripping through the pass with hurricane like force and it's absolutely frigid. Even at the mouth of the pass there isn't any snow which still only covers the highest peaks. Everyone is taking photographs and warming themselves in the small cabin where a Sherpa makes Tibetan tea for everyone. Tony, AB, and I take our turns posing by the elevation sign which reads, Thank You For Visiting Manang, Thorong La Pass Elevation, 5416 m (17769 ft) Congratulations On Your Success!!! As miserable as I was moments ago I am now smiling and laughing with everyone. We did it and I am standing on a patch of earth that is the highest I'll ever be. It's gorgeous!

Journal Entry 11

Tuesday September 18

The pebbles grind beneath our feet as we make our way out of Manang and on to the highest peaks of our journey. Loaded down with all our gear each foot fall feels uncomfortably heavy after our few days of relaxation. We climb up, up and over until we are on top of a ridge that overlooks Manang for the last time. Ahead of us are hills of green grass with a backdrop of snow white mountains. Villagers returning from their crops come down the ridge and wish us well on crossing the pass as this is our last huge settlement until we get to Muktinath on the other side of Thorung La. We round the bend and Manang is gone and the pebble filled path becomes dirt again. There are a lot of trekkers with us at this point, no Jeremy, but the people we've met in Manang the past couple days are making there way to the pass.
I get my first glimpse of yaks grazing along the path which are basically wooly cows. We follow a steep valley called Jargeng Khola, which has a river flowing through it but the valley is at such an incline that I can't even see it. At first we pass many prayer walls and huge stones with "Om Mani Padmi Hum" carved into them, but the further we walk from Manang the more the landscape empties of human influence. The beauty of the green hills against the white mountains and blue sky keeps us all silent. The scraping of our feet along the ground and the wind howling in our ears becomes our soundtrack. We stop for lunch at a settlement called Letar where most of the trekkers we left Manang with are staying for the night. We don't get this luxury because we are shorter on time and plan to push on to Phedi which is lower base camp and sits at 14,450 ft. When you look on a map the distance from Letar to Phedi does not seem so far, but you have to remember you are ascending through a valley at high altitude so it's not an easy stroll up the street.


3 hours later,,

The day is getting late and we are still climbing the path to lower base camp. The sun has now settled on the mountains and most of the valley is in shadow. The wind has also picked up and I am bundled up even wearing a hat and gloves. Every limb is aching perhaps the altitude is taking it's toll although I don't feel short of breath. We haven't seen another soul ahead of us or passing us since we left Letar and I'm wondering if anyone will be at base camp. I'm also wondering if we are going to be sleeping on this trail because the land ahead looks empty and dark. I'm falling behind in our little pack and Tony waits for me to catch up to him and asks if I'm alright. I've not realized that my voice is hoarse and all I can say is," Cold, tired and I want to die." I motion him forward and tell him not to worry about me. I'm not going to give up I'm just going to be frustrated, but no matter what I still have to keep walking. In my mind I'm thinking, we should have stayed at Letar with everyone else, but I don't dare complain about it. I know we are limited by our obligations back home. As of right now I want to tell those obligations to piss off!


...Finally there is a dead end and a lodge at the base of a steep mountain. Phedi means "foot of hill" and there is no mistake that what lies above it is nasty steep hill. If I am tired now then I'm in real big trouble tomorrow. It's literally straight up and the path is all switch backs around giant jagged boulders. I let a sigh and see Tony and AB have descended halfway down the path. They are talking to a group of Nepali porters while they wait for me to reach them. My feet are killing me and going down hill feels awkward after a long day of ascending. I almost feel dizzy traversing into the ravine. This section of trail suffered a landslide some time ago because it's steep and made up of a gathered mass of stones and each step causes rocks to roll off the side and tumble to the depths below. The porters pass me wearing flip flops and winter hats with carefree smiles on their faces even though they loaded down with gear and the air is frigid. How do they do it?!
Tony and AB are at a stream that churns and gurgles with fury down towards the valleys we just came from. It's not a huge stream but we are not able to jump it. There's a bridge running across it that consists of a sagging board with a puny tree branch for a railing. Again, these crossings would be easy if I wasn't loaded down with a backpack, but add the weight and I am terrified to try crossing it. Tony and AB know this and that is why they wait for me. AB goes first taking short steps but walks quickly without any trouble. He leans over the bridge and stretches his hand out as far as he can and motions for me to come on. I'm so damn tired and I don't want to do this right now, but I step onto the board. I lean forward and my backpack almost pushes me over making me step back onto the ground. I try again more slowly trying my hardest to take the biggest step I can so that I don't have to have both my feet on the bridge. My hand reaches and AB pushes forward and grabs my hand and pulls me quickly off to the other side with him. Tony walks across easily and in the dim light we head towards the warm glow of the lodges windows like a group of moths to a porch light.

I am so worn down that I feel like I am dragging anvils by my arms and feet. Our room is a concrete cell, cold and windowless, but the dining hall is warm and cozy. We sit with three very tall, blonde guys from Belgium and order spaghetti with canned tuna. AB points out that we need to load up on carbs for the hike ahead of us tomorrow so, "Eat up!" I'm starving but my exhaustion is making me feel too tired to even attempt eating. I lay my head on the table falling in and out of sleep until our dinner arrives. AB and Tony are tired too but they are doing much better than I am, chatting with the Belgium's and keeping their heads off the table. I stare at my dinner and finally force myself to eat and once I've consumed a few bites I feel better and warm. I think the altitude is killing me and that is why I am so exhausted. It's strange because I don't feel like I am having trouble breathing but the weight that my body feels is dauntingly heavy. I practically can't even carry myself!
Back in the room I don't even bother changing my clothes or even brushing my teeth. It takes great effort to sift through my backpack and unroll my sleeping bag onto the mattress. It's way too cold to take off my layers and even when I crawl into my sleeping bag I am still shivering. My nose and cheeks feel raw from being in the wind all day and now my little face protrudes from my sleeping bag and becomes ice cold. I don't care about anything but sleeping and I believe that this night will be the heaviest sleep I've ever had in my entire life!

Journal Entry 10 part 2

There is something incredibly beautiful about the sky here. It's something I've never noticed at home or at the lower elevations of the hike, but the sky is a deeper shade of blue even though the sun is shining brightly. Perhaps it's the snowy white peaks against the sky or maybe it has something to do with how high we are above sea level. Whatever it might be it takes my breath away and I have no problem walking as slowly as possible just to take in the surroundings. We are surrounded by towering mountains but the valley is so wide you can see for miles. I no longer feel like I am trapped in a deep ravine, like we experienced at the beginning of our hike. There is so much beauty in the snowcapped peaks to the rolling green hills and down to the shimmering Marsyangdi River which is now no more than a babbling brook. I am convinced I want to stay here for the rest of my life.
We pass back through the stone walls and the great gate of the Manang village and make a brief stop at our guesthouse to pick up a few items like bottled water and money for snacks. AB catches up with us here and he is looking very thoughtful. We all have to acclimatize and it's important that we do a few climbs before we set off for the pass of Thorang La. Tony and I want to climb to Chongkar which is a huge glacier that basically makes up the beginning of the Marsyangdi River. It sits almost directly across from Manang, but it takes some 3 to 4 hours to climb. We invite AB with us but he smiles and says he has already visited the glacier while we went to Braga. He seems very much at peace up here in the mountains. I ask him what he thinks about this area and he says, "No rain, no sweating, and mountains all around, I'm in love." He tells us about his climb to the glacier and how he tried to actually walk on the glacier, but it was too steep and dangerous without clamp-ons. "I kept causing mini landslides and almost lost it a couple of times." After giving up on the glacier he found a nice quiet spot to sit and take in the view and thought about everything and everyone in his life. His grandmother fills his mind the most. She is getting old and he worries he isn't spending enough time with her. "It actually made me cry." he said. "I shouldn't be so far away all the time because I just don't know how long she has and she gets lonely."
On a lighter note AB smiles and says, "So I'm sitting up there doing all this thinking and then I see this tall skinny guy walking up to the shore of the glaciers ice lake." "The man strips down to his skivvies and steps up to a rocky outcrop just above the surface of the lake." "Without any hesitation the man boldly leaps feet first into the lake." "I could not believe he did that, I mean surely he knows that the lake is freezing cold!" AB shakes his head. "Fuck, there is ice floating in it." he laughs. "The man's yell echoed up the glacier wall as he burst back out of the water gasping." "I walked down to make sure he was okay, because, Man he could have had a heart attack in that water!" AB grasps his chest as he says this. "He ended up being fine, shaken and maybe a little humiliated because I witnessed it, but he was okay."
"I take it he was not from around these parts." Tony says. AB nods, "Yeah, it was actually that Israeli guy that we met when I was so dehydrated in Bahundanda."

I feel like this is the first time I've had a chance to socialize with both AB and Tony since the hike started. The three of us have been together, but when your hiking all day you kinda enter your own little world. Your focused on the obstacles on the ground, or on your thoughts and sometimes you find yourself humming a song to the rhythm of your walking. Most of the time when we would settle in at the guesthouse we would be so exhausted that all we wanted to do is eat and then sleep. It's been nice to have time in Manang. We can take our surroundings in and also enjoy each others company. We have time to breath and we better enjoy it now because we are about to hike the hardest part of the trail yet.

Journal Entry 10

September 17 Monday

It’s a calm sunny morning and Tony and I take a walk to Braga village in hopes of getting to visit the monastery. On our way to the village we stop at a gift shop and purchase prayer flags and I find a beautiful mala necklace made out of yak bone. A mala is basically what we would call a rosary, only it’s for Buddhists. We will hang the prayer flags later today as we had promised, to honor the victims of the terrorists attacks back home.


Braga is quiet and seems like a ghost town. We climb through a maze of alley ways without seeing a single soul and make it to the top where the monastery sits. The doors are shut and it doesn’t seem like anyone will welcome us. We climb onto the roof and look out over the mountains across the dwindling Marsyangdi River. I tell Tony that maybe we should just sit and wait for a bit. Maybe we are just too early. I sketch the mountain scene into my journal while Tony quietly watches me. The lama appears on the neighboring rooftop and makes a puja of burning sage. A puja is an offering. The sage smokes and crackles in the wind while the lama quietly chants with hands clasped together in prayer. I am hoping he will notice us and let us into the monastery, but it doesn’t look like it is going to happen. He does approach us, but only to observe what I am doing in my journal. He pauses over us for a moment and studies my drawing, but does not say a word to either of us. Then he is gone and that is the last we see of him. If only we could speak Tibetan, then perhaps we could have made some progress, but maybe it was not a good time to visit the monastery. So, we head back to Manang and as we exit Braga we hear children singing behind us. It is two girls and a little boy holding each others hands on their way to school. They meet up with us full of giggles and brimming with curiosity. Tony’s watch fascinates them and they press every button on it. I tease Tony telling him he will never get his watch to work right again. The tattoo on my arm also gets attention and they talk excitedly about it as they trace each line with their fingertips. Surprisingly they grab us by the hands forcing us to skip along to school with them while they sing a playful tune. Tony and I take the boy by the hands and swing him up in the air. He laughs with excitement and now everyone wants a turn. One of the little girls sees the mala necklace I had purchased and starts rubbing her fingers together saying, “Mani, mani, mani, mani.” At first I misunderstand what she is saying and think she is asking me for money. I keep saying to her, “No, I don’t have any money.” Tony laughs at me and says, “No Robyn, your necklace!” She is saying, “Mani, like to pray!” I forgot that Buddhists chant mantras with their malas by counting each bead as a chant. That is what the little girl was doing with her fingers. When we reach the gates of the school the children say goodbye to us waving all the way until they go inside the classroom. It is little moments like those that stay in your heart forever, even if they don’t have any meaning at all. It was a nice moment that made up for not getting to go inside the monastery. I think it was meant to happen on purpose.

We had heard about a lama living in a cave above the village of Manang and decided to make the uncertain journey to see him. We were going on word of mouth as nothing was said about him in our guidebooks. The village had painted a sign of different hikes to do while staying in Manang and the only thing it had in the direction of the lama was some hand painted yellow letters spelling, Praken Gompa. Gompa is another word for a Buddhist monastery, but I was under the impression that we were going to a very small cave to visit a lone hermit. So we followed little yellow painted arrows through the narrow alleys of the town until we ended up on top of a ridge overlooking the rooftops of the village. Satellite dishes sprinkled with blowing prayer flags and cooking fires sprung up all around us. There was still a wall of mountains ahead of us but it looked like we would be crossing through a few hilly fields before we reached the steep wall of rock. The yellow arrows became few and far between, but a well worn path guided us to somewhere so we carried on. We came upon a mare and her colt munching on grasses. They took notice of us for a few moments and then the mother returned to her grazing. Tony cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a very loud, "Naaaay!" The colt took a few steps forward and nayed right back at Tony bobbing it's little head. I told Tony he was officially a horse whisperer now. We debated for a moment on going closer to the horses, but decided that it might not be wise to interfere with some ones property. There wasn't anyone we could see watching the horses, but we could have been being watched and I also didn't want to scare the horses if we went to them. Not all horses are happy to be approached by people as it usually means they have to do some work.
We crossed the small field and reached a set of large stones stacked up a hill with overgrown grasses bending and blowing in the breeze all around. The stones acted as steps for us to clammer on and millions of little wolf spiders scattered on each step we took. At the top we saw a weather worn stupa and there a man and a woman stood waiting for us. They were on a small ledge that overlooked the entire Manang valley. Manang was almost invisible from where we stood as it blended in so well with the land. Had it not been for the prayer flags we would probably not even know a village was there. The woman was very old and little but she was very excited to see us and quickly waved at us to come with her. The old man disappeared into an opening in the rock which actually had a few openings one of which, I could see a cooking fire billowing out of. The woman lead us to where the old man had went and as we passed where the food was cooking 3 children of various ages peered out at us curious and smiling. Inside the cave the man was seated on the floor behind a small alter. Behind him hung a large thangka painting of the Buddha that was very dirty and weather worn. To the man's right he had a cabinet with a huge display of photographs from the many different travelers that had visited him with a mix of buddhist relics and pictures of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. He sat behind the alter smiling at us wearing a red and gold pointed hat and a red robe with mala beads around his neck. On the alter a small candle was burning with an ornate little brass watering pitcher sitting to his right. The woman sat beside us and for a moment we all looked at each other not quite knowing how to speak to each other. It was clear we had somewhat of a language barrier, but we started out by telling them our names and then where we were from. The lama understood USA and they both shook their heads up and down excitedly when we said it. I took out the photographs I had stored in my money pouch that showed images of family and home. The woman was very happy to look at these pictures and especially liked the photograph of me with my mother. She called to the children in the kitchen to come and look at the photographs and they chattered amongst themselves at each picture they looked at. I wondered what they were saying, but they seemed to be really interested and nodding in approval over what they saw. We took one of our photos of the two of us with AB when we visited him in Yellowstone and gave it to the lama to add to his collection of photographs on the cabinet. We did our best to explain to them that AB was also on the trip with us, but I'm not sure if they understood. The lama then pointed out the entrance and said, "Thorang La?" and made a motion of walking with his fingers. We said, Yes, tomorrow Thorang La. He nodded in approval and then asked me to come and sit in front of him at the alter. He took my right hand and with the brass watering can he poured a small amount of saffron oil into my palm and made the motion for me to drink it and rub some of it on my forehead. He gently took his hands and held my head at the sides and began to chant. He then took a colorful band of braided string and tied it around my neck, touched my forehead and then took a book bound with sacred text and gently set it on top of my head still continuing to chant. He lowered the book and said, "Good." He motioned for Tony to take my place at the alter and repeated the blessing. He was sending us off with blessings for a safe climb through the Thorang La pass. I didn't know what to expect in coming here, but luckily he was very used to having visitor request this service from him. It was a very unique experience and it's something I will never forget even if it's something that everyone does when they pass through Manang.
We took a few photographs with the lama, who I later learned is known as Lama Geshe and the woman was happy to pose in pictures as well. She was very cute when we were taking pictures, putting her thumbs up and smiling brightly with missing teeth saying, "Okay, okay!!" as the camera flashed. We gave them rupees for the blessings and returned back down the hill. They stood at the cliff's edge for a moment watching us walk down and then we rounded the bend to where the horses were and they disappeared.
This was at best the highlight of our journey so far. We walked back down to Manang with the sunshine and wind blowing over the valley, turning the grasses in all different directions, We talked about organized religions and why I have problems committing to one set of beliefs. The words and actions of people like Jesus or Buddha are incredible and beautiful, but when people start making temples and organizations in honor of these people they have a tendency to loose the compassion that made the people their following who they are. I see nothing but greed, wealth, and narrow-mindedness when churches and temples are made. My idea of compassion is simple, you just love and respect all beings and treat them as you would treat yourself. Mistakes are part of life and it's not hard to understand the difference between what is wrong and what is right as we grow.


Lama Geshe lives a simple life, opening his home to all visitors without needing too much. It makes me want to follow in his lead and change how I live my life. I want a simple life of happiness.