Ripples Following Ripples ~ FURTHER
TREKS
Back
in Malacca again, I prepared to fly out on September
28th. DV was unable to drive me to the airport, so
got a taxi to drop me there. The flight was on time,
and I changed planes in Bangkok, arriving in Kathmandu
after noon. It always takes quite a while to get through
Immigration there, as most people don’t bother
get-ting their visas in advance, and have to wait
in line to pay for them in foreign currency. Passport
duly endorsed, outside I was accosted by taxi-drivers
and hotel-touts, and spent some time haggling. Finally,
I got a taxi for Rs150, and on the way agreed to go
to Dolpo Guest House in Thamel for a room
at Rs200. Actu-ally, this was better than the Yeti
Guest House of my last visit.
One of the first things I did was set about buying
a bike, and went to see Dipendra, from one of the
bike-shops I’d had dealings with the year before,
thinking I could trust him. Alas, my trust was mis-placed.
He took me to a wholesaler, and I negotiated with
him about a new China-made bike, not knowing that
he was grossly overcharging me, but Dipendra must
have known and colluded with him. And not only had
I been overcharged and Dipendra must have got a cut
of it, but as I was soon to find out, I’d bought
a lemon; the bike was of poor quality, and it wasn’t
long before it began to give me trouble. I went to
Trisuli on it, stopping off to see Milan Lama ~ the
young boy who had helped Jivan after his spill ~ on
the way. By the time I got there, nuts had fallen
off, and the gear-levers needed replacing. Back in
Kathmandu, my com-plaints to Dipendra were to no avail,
and whenever I went to see the wholesaler, he was
conveniently not there. I fixed up the bike as best
I could and had some good rides on it even so.
I sent money through the post-office to Yam Bahadur
and Bishal, but it was two weeks before they acknowledged
receipt of it.
Then, I came down with a chest-infection, as I usually
did when I was in Kathmandu, where the air is so polluted.
I felt so ill at one point that I had to sleep for
14 hours; eventually, the antibiotics kicked in, and
I recovered. The weather at this time was also quite
bad, with lots of rain, so there was little I could
do but wait for it to clear before setting off trekking,
as such was my intention.
One day, I stopped by a small restaurant to ask if
they had dahl-baht, and when told yes, said I’d
return later. When I went back after some time, there
were a number of young girls lounging around, but
being the innocent, I didn’t realize it was
a whore-house. I ordered dahl-baht, but they asked
so many questions that I thought they either didn’t
know what dahl-baht was or were stupid; I left, and
went to look for dahl-baht elsewhere.
The weather cleared up, so, leaving some of my stuff
at the hotel, I set off to Syabrubesi. We
stopped at Trisuli for lunch, and this is probably
where my 35mm camera disappeared, as I left my bag
on a table while I went to the toilet ~ a mistake,
but I was glad it wasn’t my digital. The road
from thereon was rough, and we’d not gone far
when, at an army-checkpost, someone approached me
below the bus-window, and asked if I needed a porter
(I was the only Westerner on the bus at this point);
I asked him how much he wanted; he said Rs300 per
day ~ much less than I expected ~ out of which he
would pay for his own food. I agreed, and he climbed
on the roof. An hour or so later, halfway to Dunche,
there’d been a landslide, and we had to get
off the bus and walk for 30 minutes to get another
bus on the other side; Subha ~ my porter ~ carried
one of my bags.
At Dunche, I paid Rs1000 for a trekking-permit. It
soon became dark, and the road was the worst I’ve
ever been on. Half-an-hour out of Syabrubesi, one
of the double rear tires blew out; many people got
off and walked the rest of the way by a short-cut,
al-though how they saw in the dark I don’t know.
We continued, which was very risky, given the state
of the road. Arriving about 7:30, we checked into
Hotel Lhasa, and I got a room at Rs100, and
then discovered I’d not brought a sweater with
me. I’d had two concerns ~ unfounded, as it
turned out ~ about my bag on the roof of the bus:
1), that someone would sit on it and burst my water-bottles,
and 2), that my porter, who I knew nothing at all
about, would make off with it. At the hotel, discussing
payment, he said he would like Rs150 on a daily basis,
and the rest at the end of the trek; I felt good about
this, as it meant he wouldn’t gamble or drink
it away, as many porters do at the end of the day.
Nor did he smoke. At 26, he was the father of three
small children, and needed to save all he could.
Maybe because of the strong coffee I’d drunk
before going to bed, I couldn’t sleep much,
so got up to meditate, repair my bag and do odds and
ends. The sound of the river behind the hotel was
conducive to meditation; it was a nice place.
In the morning, when I went down, I met other trekkers,
one of whom ~ a guy from Perth named Michael, who
was on his way back ~ learning that I didn’t
have a sweater, immediately took off his fleecy jacket
and gave it to me, saying he didn’t need it
any more and would only have thrown it away. I gratefully
accepted.
Our first day was quite a walk, and Subha and I were
each to see what the other was made of! Up and down
over a rough track of many steps beside a raging river
through jungle we went. I kept my eyes open for bamboo,
but it was all too thin. At the first stop along the
trail ~ a place named Bamboo Lodge ~ a porter
assist-ing a Dutch guy on his way down found me a
sturdy bamboo, and I cut it to size; it was a great
help. I would not have been able to walk half as well
without it, but Subha eschewed one, and in-deed, for
the first two days, wore only flip-flops, like most
of the porters and guides; they are as sure-footed
at mountain-goats!
Not having slept much the night before, I was tired
when we reached Rimche, and decided to go
no further that day. A room there ~ very basic, of
course ~ was Rs50, and the dahl-baht (which in Kathmandu
I got for just Rs35), Rs125, but I should say that
most of the food and everything else had to be carried
up by porters from the lowlands, and before that,
brought from Kath-mandu by bus; consequently, the
prices increase the higher one gets. The lodge-keepers
earn their living that way, and perform a useful service;
without them, without porters, we would not get very
far into the mountains. The toilet here, of the squat-type,
was surprisingly clean, but I found it hard to squat
at my age!
The next day, we set off for Langtang, and
Subha was surprised at the pace I set. We overtook
everyone, trekkers and Nepalese, and got there in
less than four hours. The track had led upwards through
forests ~ or jungle ~ and then we rose above the tree-line,
where it was too cold for trees to grow. Entering
the village of about 500 people and perhaps 20 lodges,
one lodge-keeper called out to us to have a look at
his rooms. When I asked how much they were, he said
Rs10. asked again to make sure I had heard correctly,
but it was so, and indeed, many lodges charged nothing
at all for their rooms, making up for it in the food-prices.
I decided to stay there and avail myself of the solar-powered
hot-water for a shower and to wash some clothes.
Because I’d brought provisions like coffee,
milk-powder, oats and biscuits, I was able to make
coffee, tea and even porridge in my room with the
thermos of hot-water I got every evening; I would
also make a bottle of coffee, using cold water, for
the walk ahead; I did this every day, and it tasted
really good. Because I wasn’t able to boil water
myself, I added purification drops to the water, and
although it didn’t taste very nice, I didn’t
notice any ill-effects.
The next hike generally takes about 3.5 hours, but
we did it in 2; this place ~ Kyanjin Gompa,
was the furthest point we would reach before turning
back and retracing out steps to take another track
leading in a different direction. But at Kyanjin Gompa
(Gompa is Tibetan for monastery, of which
there was one there), was a peak overlooking the settlement,
with prayer-flags erected on it. Needless to say,
this beckoned me, and thinking it would af-ford some
great views, I set off to climb it; halfway up, however,
I took the wrong track, and climbed and climbed without
getting nearer to my goal. Eventually, after 2 hours
of hard-going, during which I halted every few steps
to get my breath, I reached a ridge above a glacier,
and far below me, was the 'peak' I’d originally
set out to reach. It took an hour to return to the
lodge, by a different path; this one was very steep
with few rocks in it to afford places for feet to
grip, and it was easy to slip and slide; fortunately,
I had no mishaps; my mishap of this trek was a few
days ahead.
That night in Kyanjin Gompa, I began to suffer from
sleepless-ness, as I'd done the year before on the
Solu Khumbu Trek, not knowing then that it was a symptom
of altitude-sickness, which can be dangerous and even
fatal. I could sleep no longer than 5 minutes at a
time, and would then wake up, unable to sleep again
for hours. As a result, I didn't sleep much at all,
but the surprising thing was, I didn't feel tired,
just like before.
The young keeper of the lodge we stayed in told me
that he'd been a monk for several years, but when
his mother fell ill, he felt he should disrobe to
care for her, and the next thing he knew he was married;
he expressed some regret for not having remained a
monk, saying the life of a monk was so much freer
than the family life; needless to say, I agreed with
him.
Leaving Kyanjin Gompa, we descended in four hours
to Rimche. I was even prepared to go further, but
Subha wasn't enthusiastic about this, so I told him
that if he could negotiate a free hot shower for me,
I would spend the night there. I mentioned earlier
that porters are not charged for accommodation, and
the food they eat is at a greatly-reduced price than
the tourists are charged; I had yet to ascertain how
much reduced.
The descent of the peak the previous day had hurt
my heels, and, upon checking, I discovered they had
cracked. I had to put up with the pain until returning
to Kathmandu, as I had no ointment with me. Every
morning, it was hard to start because of the pain,
but after a while, when I got into my customary swing,
the pain re-ceded. I also discovered that I'd had
blisters that had burst. My trusty sandals served
me well, and wearing a couple of pairs of socks with
them, my feet weren't cold.
We followed the river down, then took a track that
led upwards through the forest away from it, until
we arrived at a village strad-dling a long ridge,
and found rooms in one of the numerous lodges there
~ lodges that have sprung up over the less-than 20
years that people have been trekking in these parts.
There are really too many lodges, which is why some
of them don't charge for rooms, trying to attract
people to stay. Bedding is usually pro-vided without
extra charge ~ though not always ~ and sometimes it
is reasonably clean, and sometimes not; sometimes,
it smells musty, or of vomit, but if it has been hung
out in the sun as soon as the guests of the previous
night have left, it smells fresh. Whatever, one has
to put up with what one can get; in my case, I do
not carry a sleeping-bag with me, as do most trekkers.
Day Six was a hard uphill slog, and we took what was
supposed to be a short-cut. Now, Subha had never been
this way before, but I told him we would probably
be able to ask directions from people we met; however,
four hours passed without us meeting anyone on the
way. Luckily, the trail led us to a ridge where there
were some tea-shops and small lodges, and we stopped
there for some minutes to rest before going on to
the next settlement an hour further on. This was a
place called Laurebina, and in the lodge
we chose to stay in, we met a Japanese couple and
their 12-year-old daughter ~ the Sakai family
~ with their guide and porter. Below us, as far as
we could see, was a sea of clouds. It was very cold
that night, and there was no hot-water for washing
when we got up ~ or indeed, even cold water! There
was ice a foot thick in the water-tank outside. Solar-panels
were not an op-tion; they would not work there as
they did in other places; the water in the pipes would
freeze at night and burst them.
By this time, I had somehow come down with dysentery,
perhaps because of the unhygienic conditions of the
kitchens and people preparing the food in the lodges;
cleanliness is not really one of their virtues. This
was quite inconvenient and embarrassing, and painful,
too. Generally, I was able to control myself long
enough to get to the toilet (whether in the lodges
or somewhere outside), but there was only a watery
issue, and lots of gas. I had no medi-cation for this,
but Mrs. Sakai kindly gave me some herbal pills which
seemed to help somewhat; however, the condition contin-ued.
(I got dysentery when I was in Kathmandu in '74, and
lost 35 pounds because of it, and I was only 155 pounds
to begin with).
The next day was the shortest walk of the entire trek
~ two hours brought us to a series of small lakes
in the mountains at a place called Gosainkund,
just short of the snow-covered pass we would have
to cross. There was a peak overlooking the small settle-ment,
as at Kyanjin Gompa, and again, I felt the urge to
climb it; this one, however, took only 45 minutes,
and I had lunch upon re-turn. The Sakais later caught
up with us and stayed in the same place. It was even
colder here than the previous day, but I got two blankets
for my bed and passed a reasonably warm night
In the morning, the water in the cup in which I’d
put my dentures had ice in it, but fortunately was
not frozen solid. After breakfast, we set out for
the pass, but contrary to my expectations, it wasn’t
so difficult, as the snow was firm and not slippery;
it took us an hour-and-a-half to reach the top, then
we began our descent, but this was the hardest and
longest day of all, down ~ for the most part ~ rock-strewn
paths. We halted for a while, and I shared a Snickers-bar
and some biscuits with Subha, and sat in meditation
for 20 minutes. We made it to the next settlement
two hours later, but the lodge-people weren’t
very friendly, so I decided to press on to the next
place, another two-and-half-hours on. Needless to
say, we were very tired when we got there, almost
nine hours af-ter starting in the morning. After checking
into one of the lodges, I sat a while waiting for
some food and then went to bed, unaware until the
morning, that the Sakais had arrived in the same lodge
three hours after we did. This was Subha's record-day
as well as mine; previously, the longest he'd done
was seven hours.
That day, we had reached the tree-line again, and
because of the frequent cloud-layer, many trees were
heavily draped in moss and lichens; the forest was
dank due to lack of sunshine. We had two very cloudy
days, and it tried to rain several times.
Misfortune lay just ahead of us. The next day, I set
an energetic pace for two hours uphill, leaving Subha
behind. Then we started to descend, and I was doing
alright when suddenly, I tripped on a rock on a very
steep part and fell forward and down, unable to save
myself. A group of teenagers were directly behind
me, but they never as much as asked if I were alright
or offered to help in any way; they simply continued
on their way. I was amazed and somewhat annoyed at
this, and later explained to Subha that such indifference
towards others is one of the causes of poverty (the
day before, I’d stepped on a stone that moved
beneath my foot, and, seeing this, he moved the stone
and set it so it wouldn't rock anymore, out of consideration
for others). Anyway, I picked myself up, fortunately
not much hurt ~ only a scraped shin and a slightly
bleeding nose and bruised hand; one of the lenses
of my specs was scratched ~ and Subha caught up with
me; he hadn’t seen me fall. I was a bit more
cautious after this for a while, but then resumed
my regular pace. Actually, though, I was very lucky,
as there were thousands of times on this trek where
disas-ter lurked, but then, this is life in general,
is it not? One must be careful, and cannot plan in
advance the next step; each step must be taken without
thinking about it, without hesitation, and it was
very interesting to observe how the feet seemed to
have an intelligence of their own and knew how to
act very quickly ~ rather like a dance somehow; all
this, you see, was unknown ground, and you could have
no plans for it.
Pressing on, we reached Chisopani, having
been caught in rain the last 20 minutes; it had been
trying to rain for the past three days, and we had
quite a shower. It wasn’t easy to find a lodge,
either they were fully booked or were asking Rs200.
I was on the verge of pressing on to Kathmandu, but
decided to back-track and try the first lodge we had
passed as we came into the village. This one was empty,
but at first the boy was asking Rs200, which I refused
to pay. He then asked how much I was prepared to pay,
and although it was the best lodge we’d stayed
in so far, I said Rs50, and surprisingly enough, he
accepted, with bedding and hot shower included. I
was happy to get cleaned up, even though the water
wasn’t very warm, and put on clean clothes.
Two hours after this, the Sakais arrived, and hadn’t
got too wet in the rain.
And so, we came to our final day on the trail. Having
shared the trail with the Sakais, and stayed at the
same lodges, a friendship had developed, and before
parting with them, we arranged to keep in touch and
perhaps even visit (the husband was working in Kathmandu
as a physical-education instructor under the aus-pices
of the government of Japan). Subha and I went on ahead,
and the first hour or so was uphill, and then we settled
into the descent to a small town on the outskirts
of Kathmandu Valley, where there are buses to the
capital. Going down was pretty hard, especially the
last 1½ hours, as concrete steps had been constructed
up to the villages, and these were harder on the feet
than the rough tracks. Eventually, however, we got
down, quite worn out, and had to wait an hour for
a bus. It was already full when it started, and gathered
more people as it went along. But did you think those
standing inside paid half-fare, or those on the roof
traveled for free, or those hanging perilously off
the sides paid less? Not at all! The bus-companies
are only concerned with the maximizing of profits,
and care nothing at all about the com-fort or safety
of their passengers, or of their own employees.
Reaching Kathmandu an hour or so later, I paid Subha
off, and he seemed happy with the bonus I gave him.
I was satisfied with him as he was honest and not
greedy. He then went to get a bus back to his home-village,
and agreed to return to Kathmandu early the next week
in order to accompany me on my second trek, in the
Annapurna region; I dared not leave it too late, as
it would involve crossing a 5,500 m pass, and before
long, deep snow would fall there. My shin was very
sore; there must have been a battle going on inside.
My cracked heels responded to the ointment I bought.
I also had my specs repaired.
Sakai called and came to pick me up; I stayed overnight
in their nice home and enjoyed it, even though their
English wasn’t too good. They dropped me off
where I needed to go the next day.
I got my trekking-permit, at a cost of Rs2000, and
Subha turned up, so we got tickets for the next day’s
bus to Besisahar. He brought me a bamboo
staff to replace the one I’d given away. My
bags were stuffed because of the extra food I was
taking.
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