This entry has literally taken me two years to finish. I had indicated in an earlier post that I was willing to share this, in its entirety, with those who expressed interest. I was surprised to hear from so many, and intended to then post it in early July of 2010. What can I say...some places in India drew me so far in that time sitting at a computer felt wasted. Once I returned to the West, my head and heart became so completely involved in (not so) simply trying to be HERE. This draft just sat quietly waiting for me to come back around to it. I can't say why it wants to be shared now...but it does. So...though it is painfully overdue...here ya go. It's really lengthy (15 days is a lot to cover and I've left nothing out!)...soooo ya may want to grab a cup of tea or a glass of wine and hunker down for a bit. Don't say I didn't warn ya...
*hint: the curious, click-happy among you may find this a more gratifying experience. ;)
In May of 2010, I set off into the Annapurna Himalayan Range with two lovely souls ...Xavi, from Spain, and Mathias, from Sweden... all three of us entering into unknown territory, learning from and challenging each other all the way...becoming friends in the most unlikely of places and unexpected ways. I love them both...
My journal saw much action as I looked back over kilometers crossed...as I marveled at each day's unfolding and watched the geology change around me...as I felt a similar shifting within. I managed to sling my camera awkwardly as I trekked, which certainly made it more challenging (but how could I NOT have it always at the ready?!) I also took a few moments here and there to sketch what I beheld and to allow the beauty around me to swirl itself into colorful mandalas. I've done my best to represent those various facets here to really give you the broadest sense of my experience.
26 May: The view that unfolds before me is so beautiful I scarcely believe it is real. The sound of the river below...winding gently...terraced hillsides...lush, vibrant green...the mountains looming quietly behind. We began our trek yesterday, though the real challenge began today as we walked from Bhulbhule to Bahundanda...only 9 km...but parts of that were difficult...steep...tough for me for myriad reasons. I know this trek will push me to my limits and beyond...on just about every level. Still...I am determined. One step at a time...one day at a time...just keep moving...in gratitude...with faith. Only day one and I am already learning so much...seeing clearly how this reflects my choices in general. How present can I be? How burdensome are the things I choose to carry? When will I be willing to put down all the heavy baggage and step lightly? Tomorrow, I begin anew...
27 May: Day 2...14 km...feeling spent and unsure. Sore feet...back complaining...sore everything, really. This is no walk in the park...no leisurely stroll along some shanti stream. No...this is strenuous hiking. We began the day with a 200 metre descent from Bahundanda to Ghermu...5 km...followed by an ascent of another 200 metres to Jagat...3 tough km...and another 4 km, another 85 metres up to Chamche, where we decided to push on to a modest guesthouse a bit further on. After another rather challenging climb of what we think was about 2 km, we arrived at this quiet, remote little place, the Thorang Peak Hotel. Cold buckets to cleanse a sweat so malodorous I'm scaring myself revived me somewhat. But I was a grumpy sourpuss when we first arrived. Dhal Bhat is on its way, after which I'll be wrapping myself in layers, curling up without a blanket and doing my best to sleep in a room with open, shutterless windows. I am so unbelievably exhausted...but tomorrow will be no less grueling. We will climb another 400 metres, approximately. We're not sure how many metres we ascended after Chamche, but it felt like quite a few. Though it hasn't been easy, it has felt like walking through some idyllic painting or meandering through scenes from Lord of The Rings. So pristine...magical...raging river and waterfalls...rice and corn fields...quaint villages and quiet, tiny people...and everywhere...EVERYWHERE...marijuana growing wild. The last push from Chamche was amazing...fields upon fields of cannabis...happy horses grazing upon it. Yes, this is difficult, but also the experience of a lifetime...and, I suspect, life changing...
28 May: Day 3, or 4, rather...if I count that first day and those less than lovely bus rides between Pokhara and Bhulbhule...3 times the haggling over prices...certainly tired us out before we'd even begun. Still...the toll on my body reminds me that it's only the 3rd day. Another 9 or 10 km, up and down...my body complaining more and more...yet, somehow, I'm falling into a sort of familiar rhythm. I'm slow, often lagging behind, but I'm making my way...observing my own process as the geology around me slowly changes...as the bamboo and fern become pine tree and shrub...as the raging river that we are hiking alongside tumbles over boulders, shaping stone as it falls...watching in awe as fog rolls over hills below us...sipping chia (the Nepali word for tea, like India's 'chai') and looking back over the terrain we've already covered...surprised that I've come this far...amazed that I will continue, trusting that my body and mind will grow accustomed to this movement between villages...over rocky steps and trickling streams...over mule dung and marijuana leaves...following in the footsteps of unknowable multitudes who've gone before me...watching the speck that is Mathias far, far ahead as he appears and disappears round bends and over hills...as Xavi pulls away and I, increasingly, fall behind, my short legs taking 2 or 3 steps for every one of their lanky strides. I don't mind...it often feels as though I'm trekking alone...keeping momentary company with the mules that come and go in both directions carrying loads far heavier than mine...stepping aside to let them pass, along with the many Nepalese who move so effortlessly along these paths wearing simple, rubber sandals...and little, strong men laden with sheets of corrugated metal and steel beams who slowly make their way to, I assume, villages further ahead. Seeing them fills my lungs, somehow...makes the burden of my pack seem less. Physically, I feel considerably strained and have considered hiring a porter. I'm stubborn, however, and want to give it another day or two. I'm getting the hang of it...doing my best to transform each step into a mantra so my walking becomes a steady meditation...'Thank You...Thank You...Thank You'...naming, from the heart, each thing I am grateful for. My lungs...feet...back...legs...neck...heart. My shoes...my shoulders ...my clothes. The Earth and stone beneath me...the air that sustains me. With each step...with every mile crossed...my exhaustion increases and so does my gratitude. All day I've found myself pondering the sweetness of Nepal, thinking over and over that it is, without question, the most beautiful place on Earth. I feel so incredibly blessed. Truly...deeply...
29 May: Day 5...16 km...810 metres up. From our lovely guesthouse in Dharapani we climbed over some of the steepest terrain yet, passing through 5 quiet villages before arriving finally, aching & thoroughly spent, in Chame, 2710 metres...or, about 8,800 feet. Somehow, though we covered more ground than previous days, I really feel like I'm getting better at this...like my body is slowly beginning to understand that it is absolutely capable...that I am far healthier than I think I am. Sure, every muscle aches....I can barely walk...but I feel like I've accomplished so much. I'm proud of us...our odd, little trio. We really are learning. And my confidence is growing stronger...my belief that I CAN do this after all. I had many moments today when I realized that I am actually enjoying this...that it's not just hours of positive self-talk to make it to the next village and, hopefully, a rejuvenating, hot shower. I simply cannot even begin to describe the beauty that I am stepping through. As we reached the top of one of our most difficult ascents yet, I looked back over the village of Danaqyu and my breath caught mid-inhale.The mountains that had previously lured me from afar with their snow-covered sweetness loomed large and crisp just behind the valley through which we'd just passed. It made the pain in my legs instantly vanish as my heart swelled nearly out of my chest. Shortly thereafter, Xavi and I stopped for chia, where we met four English trekkers with porters and...I fell instantly in love with a tiny, brown, baby cow...the most gentle creature. She kissed my nose! A bit further along, after crossing another suspension bridge and climbing yet another hill to the village of Koto, we encountered the English group again. One of them remarked that he thought Xavi and I were doing amazingly well, obviously impressed that we were carrying our own packs. It felt really good to hear that. Tired? Yes. Happy? Absolutely. *Ready for another day...
31 May: Day 7...Howling wind and the sound of hundreds of prayer flags remind me how far we've come. Yesterday we rested, choosing to spend the day rejuvenating in Chame at our comfortable guesthouse, The New Tibet. It put us a day behind, but I think we were wise to do so. Today we climbed another 600 metres, trekking 15 km in about 7 hours...with a lovely stop for breakfast at the Buddha Cafe & Bakery in Dhukur Pokkari. We're staying overnight in Upper Pisang, under the awe-inspiringly massive Annapurna II before climbing towards Ghyaru tomorrow morning. We've chosen to take the more arduous, high route to Manang as the promise of the most beautiful views of the trek lure us skyward. This morning we awoke to the most spectacular sight as the moon, bright and glowing, nearly rested atop Lamjung Himal and rapidly disappeared behind as the rising sun painted the snow beautiful, subtle shades of pink. All day, I've lost my words, so completely taken by this piece of Earth...so utterly in love with Nepal. And, though I increased my personal challenge today by unburdening Xavi and carrying my guitar myself, I feel amazing. Somehow, the mental reward of that decision far outweighs the added physical strain. There's just something indescribably gratifying about literally 'carrying my own weight'. I felt really good with it strapped to my pack. Yes...it pulled awkwardly on my shoulders and neck...but having her so close inspired me...lyrics traveling along with me...effortlessly revealing themselves as I walked. Now, as this goddess of a mountain looks down upon us, I feel closer to heaven than I've ever been. So alive...so strong and only growing stronger. This isn't just about this trek...it's about my life. I CAN do this alone, but I am so incredibly grateful that I don't have to. So...so...so very blessed.
1 June: Day 8...6th day of walking, excluding our one day of rest...by far, our most difficult day yet. From Upper Pisang we climbed a very steep 420 metres, hiking 4.5 km in 2 hours, leaving at 5:45am, our earliest departure thus far. We arrived in Ghyaru completely exhausted, physically, but feeling so accomplished and happy as we enjoyed breakfast, looking out over the most breathtaking backdrop...Annapurna II, Annapurna III, Annapurna IV, Lamjung Himal and Pisang Peak behind us. From Ghyaru, we trekked another 7 km to Ngawal, where we stopped for a much needed break. Xavi and I had stopped previously on the crest of a hill, building our own cairns of stones to join the many others. I was really struggling before that point, dragging myself forever upwards, it seemed, my pack pulling awkwardly on my neck and shoulders, causing incredible discomfort. I managed to carry my guitar as far as Ngawal, but I was beginning to break down by then...close to tears, feeling terribly over-exerted and overwhelmed as we entered the village and Xavi disappeared ahead of me, into the soft labyrinth of stone walkways. After our pit stop there, Xavi...my savior...once again strapped my guitar to his pack before we continued onward, down a steep descent...through the intense midday sun...towards Manang. At 2 pm, we finally entered the village of Braga, feeling barely human...sunburned and aching...hardly able to move another inch. Here we found Mathias, whom we'd last seen just past Ghyaru. He'd found us this lovely spot to stay for the night, himself feeling similarly spent and beyond tired. No surprise...after covering 17.5 km, with such an arduous beginning, it's a wonder we're functioning at all! After a meal that felt forced and a heavenly, hot shower, we all retired, sleeping a solid two hours. I awoke with a body that is complaining in every part, cramping and protesting with each movement. I'm walking like an elderly woman...wincing as I lift myself gingerly up and down steps! Wow...so I had a rough day. I felt a bit disappointed in myself for a while, but I realized that it's okay for me to have hard days. Of course I'll have tricky moments...I'm walking through the Himalayas carrying my own pack. I've never done anything like this and it is hard. We've already hiked 73 km and ascended 2,610 metres. I'd be superhuman if I didn't struggle at turns. Overall, I feel really good, physical exhaustion notwithstanding. My body is changing as I walk...muscles strengthening...any minute traces of fat dropping away. On some levels, I feel healthier than ever. I've had my difficulties, of course...sweating out some nasty smelling toxins and becoming a feast for hungry mosquitoes and spiders and who knows what other forms of bitey critters, resulting in no less than 30 welts all over my body. Other than these minor complaints, and, of course, my usual, back-related issues, I've been amazed by how well my body has tolerated this trek. Apparently, I'm far stronger than I've ever believed...in much better shape than I previously thought. This realization alone makes every discomfort tolerable. Still, I'm bracing myself for the crossing of the Thorung La Pass, 5416 metres. We're hoping to make a side trip to Tilicho Lake (said to be the highest lake in the world) before heading for the pass. Tomorrow, we'll have an easy day, rising when our bodies decide to rather than the ungodly predawn alarms we've awoken to every day since we began. At our leisure, we'll walk an easy 2 km to Manang where we'll remain for a day to help acclimate. Now...though it's early yet, I may just return to that semi-comfortable bed for the night. Though I'd like to draw...to play my guitar...to offer massages to my lovely companions...I have less than zero energy. We've many more kilometers to cover...many days to go...many meters yet to climb...smilingly.
3 June: Day 10...Manang...quaint village, situated beneath Annapurna III...so close I can see the drifts of snow blowing off its peak. The massive Gangapurna glacier feeds a small lake just below the village, flanked by plots of land, separated by stones...yoked cattle turning soil in a way that I'm sure looked quite the same a century ago. Peaceful place. Unfortunately, the quietude of this village does not match my inner space. We made our way here yesterday morning. And, for me, the half hour walk was not so fun as I was wearing far too many layers, simply due to laziness, and the sun at this altitude is rather unforgiving. The environment feels harsh...dry...cold in the shade but quite hot in the sun. I was in a bad space as we entered the village....pack uncomfortable and body overheating. Finding affordable rooms wasn't easy, which only made me more grumpy...and then things broke down between Xavi and I. It's difficult to understand, let alone recount and explain, but the remainder of the day was quite awful. Traveling side by side is a tricky thing...our humanity revealing itself as we grow ever more exhausted. Mathias is often far ahead of us, but Xavi and I see quite a lot of each other each day. Today, it seems obvious to me that the altitude played a considerable role in our mutual sensitivities, but such factors were difficult to see as it was happening. Neither of us drank enough water...which can't be discounted. It's easy to forget, but we have to be wiser from here on out. This trek is no joke....we're about to cross over one of the highest passes in the world. We have to take care of ourselves. And, we realized yesterday that we didn't have enough money to get us to Jomsom, the only village with an ATM. We had erroneously believed there would be one here. So, though we had wanted to make the side trip to Tilicho Lake, we simply cannot afford to. Mathias, lured by phrases like 'Highest Lake in the World' left us this morning to brave it alone. He very sweetly loaned us 3000 rupees to help ensure that we make it to Jomsom. I feel a bit sad to have lost his company, but this must be how it was meant to unfold. I was so out of sorts and tired yesterday that I was considering backtracking to Humde and flying back to Pokhara. But...today...I feel anxious to continue...restless...impatient. I want to finish this thing. Though quitting sounds so much easier, we have to see it through. So...today I'll pay some ludicrous amount to transfer a couple memory cards to DVD and Xavi and I will make a day trip to visit the glacier up close. And tomorrow, we'll continue onward and upward towards the Thorung La. I think I'm ready...
4 June: Day 11...15km...910 meters. We had an easy morning, eating breakfast before setting off...a first for us. We left Manag at 8:15am, covering the fairly difficult ascent to Gunsang in about an hour and a half. There we stopped for tea before continuing on to Yak Kharka and beyond to Letdar, where we intended to rest for the night. Unfortunately, Letdar was a 'let down' as we arrived to discover all doors locked...no where to stay. We paused for more chia and I snapped some amazing shots of charmingly dirty, sweet children, but then our only option was to keep going...another 5km...to Thorung Phedi. I was concerned that we might be ascending too fast, but Xavi and I both seem to be handling the altitude fairly well. The terrain has dramatically changed and the temperature has dropped quite uncomfortably. All day we walked beneath clouds so close I felt I could reach right up and touch them...light drizzle followed us most of the way, turning into a substantial downpour shortly after we arrived in Thorung Phedi. Here, there is little vegetation and the view from our window is truly otherworldly...like, I imagine, lunar landscapes... craggy cliffs and shale...landslides everywhere...glacial runoff becoming the river below. The silence here is thick...enchanting...magical. I'm wrapped in two, heavy blankets and layered as much as possible...3 pairs of socks, long underwear, jeans, long shirt, t-shirt, hoodie, thick fleece jacket, fleece arm warmers and hat. I'm cozy enough, but my nose is still running from the cold and my fingers are cramping a bit. Soon, I'll curl up under these lovely blankets and take a well-deserved nap. *Once again, I find myself marvelling at our accomplishments. We have come so far...and, though the first part of today was tricky for me, I fell back into my rhythm, realizing during bizarre moments that my pack felt lighter, somehow...almost weightless. So strange! And I managed to carry my guitar again...all the way...without too much difficulty. I don't have words for how good that feels...for what it is doing to my confidence...'Ram rosa' (Nepali for...'Very good') *Tomorrow, we'll set out early. We've found two people to cross over with...thankfully, as it is apparently dangerous to do so with only 2 people. Five is ideal, but I think four will be fine. We're at 4450 meters now and the pass is 5416, so the risk of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) is real. My feeling is that we'll be fine, but we have to remain aware as AMS is no laughing matter. If all goes well, we should reach Muktinath by 3pm...leaving Thorung Phedi at 5:30am. I'm hoping for better weather...but we'll cross tomorrow, regardless. Tired now...sore and achey, but in good spirits...
5 June: Day 12...16 difficult kilometers...just under 100 meters up, followed by a knee-breaking descent of 1,616 meters...bringing us to Muktinath at 1pm. Arriving here I felt incredibly strange and trying to find words to describe this day is beyond difficult...by far the hardest of our trek. The intial climb from Thorung Phedi to High Camp was really steep and rather quickly I was struggling...moving far too slow and finding it hard to breathe. Hari, the Nepali guide who was accompanying a kind brit named Andy, insisted on taking my pack...'Just for the steeps'...he said. Accepting his help was surprisingly difficult for me, but I didn't have much choice. Without my pack and guitar I bounded up that rocky path rather easily, realizing what a vastly different experience this would've been had I hired a porter! Though I'm glad that I have carried my own weight...for the most part...I was beyond grateful for the break. At High Camp I reclaimed my pack, feeling quite good and happy...relieved that my body seemed to be handling the altitude so well. On we went, continuously up, through snow and rock. I was falling behind, as usual, slowly making my way, finding it hard to breathe and being aware of the headache I was increasingly feeling. But I wasn't too concerned, suspecting my difficulties were primarily related to the heaviness and awkward fit of my pack. But about an hour and a half past High Camp, Hari came running back down and took my pack again. He didn't really ask...he just took it, obviously recognizing something from his 15 years of experience as a guide. I would've thought that no longer having the strain of my pack would make me feel light and strong...but my breathing didn't improve...nor did my pace. By this point, we were quite high up and the wind ripping over the pass was bitterly cold. I trudged on, doing my best to maintain awareness of my breath...to breathe deeply and only through my freezing, dripping nose. That last hour and a half to the top felt like days as I walked on, snow crunching underfoot, Hari following close behind repeating gently and often...'Shant, Shanti'...reminding me to breathe 'long'...or was he saying 'lung'?...encouragingly patting my back as I periodically bent over to try and pull more oxygen into what felt like a far too heavy body. I felt increasingly strange...wanting, at points, to simply lay down in the fluffy, sparkling snow. One foot in front of the other...felt like such an unbelievable chore. I began to feel a bit like I'd had a stiff drink...off balance...slightly nauseous...a touch confused. I was feeling a simple, underlaying joy...fascinated by the landscape beneath and around me. In some ways, I was simply present with each step and subsequent breath...not really aware of 'why' I was walking, nor where. These moments always bled into their precise opposite as I looked ahead to see Xavi and Andy ascending yet another false summit. My heart kept breaking a little bit. But Hari was always right there on my heels, repeating that peaceful mantra. And, somehow, I reached that elusive summit. There is simply no way I could've done so without Hari...my guardian angel. Once at the top, I again reclaimed my pack, still feeling odd but confident, suddenly emboldened by reaching that spot. What followed was hard in other ways, though one might assume the descent would be easier. The wind on that side was insane, continuously grabbing my guitar, like an awkward sail, pushing me backward and sideways. At some point, Hari unstrapped my guitar, resting it upon his shoulder like a soldier's rifle, carrying it for me a little while before he and Andy bid us adieu to make a more rapid descent than I was capable of. I didn't even begin to know how to thank Hari. It felt odd, but I gave him 200 rupees, which seemed both cheap and not enough and, somehow, to devalue what he'd done for me. But I had nothing to offer besides that small amount of cash. After we parted ways, it took us another couple hours to make our way down seemingly endless switchbacks to Charabu, where we briefly saw them again and stopped for chia before walking that last 4 km to Muktinath. *From that highest point , each meter down made a marked difference...the odd feelings up top falling away as gravity pulled me downward. I looked beyond the valley below to the peaks across...disbelieving the perfect beauty before me...pausing at frequent intervals to marvel at the silence. I thought about home...about my family...and was overcome by the strangest, strongest feeling that everything had changed, somehow. Like, the crossing I had just made was over more than just a Himalayan pass...almost as though I'd passed into some new realm...another dimension. Arriving in Muktinath, the strangeness only became more acute. I saw myself in a mirror for the first time in days and didn't recognize my own face. So bizarre. Xavi felt the same, indescribable thing. We both looked back at this morning amazed, feeling as though weeks had passed since then...both knowing something profound occurred on that mountain, though neither of us can explain it. *Laying down for a nap my entire body felt as though it was on fire. I felt feverish, but it was simply the residual effects of our day's arduous journey. I feel no less strange now. Sore everywhere ...so very exhausted...already missing the silence that embraced me up there. Muktinath is loud and busy compared to all the villages we've passed through, signifying a change in our venture. From here, the path moves consistently downward...the hardest part of our trekking is now behind us. Tomorrow, we'll walk an easy 19 km to Jomsom. After today...that's nothing....
7 June: Day 13...Tatopani...no strenuous activities...no more walking than is required to reach the hot springs. SO good for my unbelievably sore calve muscles. We arrived last night after a rather exhausting, bizarre day of travel by jeep and bus, cutting about 60km out of our walking...but stressful and tiring in its own way. We left Muktinath on foot at 7:30am, intending to walk the 19 km to Jomsom, where I had hoped to gain access to my money at the only ATM on the trek. We made it to Jarkhot in no time, but just past the village we encountered diverging paths. We asked a young Nepali Boy...'Khinga?'...gesturing in both directions. 'Khinga.', he indicated with a directional nod and we followed as he made his way down the steeper of the two options. Part of the way down, we found ourselves having difficulty proceeding. We'd lost sight of the boy and weren't sure where the correct path was, but, rather than backtracking at our first sign of confusion, we continued on...making guesses...following paths that felt all wrong until we, once again, could go no further. With no other choice, we turned around, retracing our steps back up that hill...back to the road we should've taken to begin with. This made me a bit grumpy, as our day was going to be long without silly mishaps like taking the wrong path. And rather disappointed, as I have repeatedly found that in both Nepal and India, people say 'yes' or point you in the wrong direction out of false politeness, simply not wanting to say 'no'. Trudging back up that fairly steep hill did nothing for my already sputtering energy level. As we'd set off that morning, I was already tired and feeling the ramifications of our previous day's crossing. Though I had stretched the evening before on advice from another trekker, I'd awoken with severely cramping calves and considerable pain in both knees. Still, I was determined to walk to Jomsom, so I tried to push beyond the discomfort. The rather gentle descent to Jharkot was surprisingly painful, revealing just how overworked my legs were. Yet, still I pressed on, knowing I'd soon fall back into that meditative walking rhythm where the pain becomes less prominent. However, after our unfortunate wrong turn, I wasn't feeling so keen. Every muscle seemed to be begging for relief. Xavi must have been experiencing a similar frustration as he flagged a passing jeep, without much discussion. And, just like that, our journey changed. With no protest from me, we gratefully climbed in for 400 rupees each...bouncing and bumping over the next 18km...covering a distance that would've taken at least 5 hours in about an hour and a half. As I did my best to hold on, giggling as my body bumbled and bobbed along with the jeep, I felt contemplative...reflective...aware that our biggest challenges now lay behind us...that the nature of our trek had shifted as soon as we flagged that jeep. I watched villages appear and disappear, feeling as though we were moving far too fast. I watched beautiful photos vanishing as quickly as they appeared and couldn't shake the sense that I was missing so much. But I also watched the landscape, knowing how difficult it would've been. My body, quite simply, needed a break. *Jomsom was strange...or, perhaps it was us...but we felt no inclination to stay any longer than was necessary. A disappointing visit to the only ATM in town left me empty handed (wouldn't accept my card) but a friend of Xavi's had thankfully wired him some money, so a trip to Western Union solved our financial worries for the time being. After a simple breakfast and the sorting out of money, we caught a local bus to Ghasa...30km...3 hours...no less bumpy and jarring than the jeep, driving over rocks...through rivers...on roads that barely hugged cliffsides...decorative tassels swaying and dancing along to the cheerful Nepali music...'WOW!' escaping my lips at frequent intervals as I sat at the very front filming short clips...as the bus rounded frighteningly tight bends and seemed to drive down stairways of stone cut from hillsides. Arriving in Ghasa we learned that our only option for transport to Tatopani was another jeep, which wouldn't depart until it was full...12 passengers needed. As only 3...myself, Xavi and a Russian girl named Svieta whom we'd met on the bus, our wait was substantial. But, within a couple hours the jeep was sufficiently overstuffed with humans and, at long last, off we went, jostling onwards. Not so far along, we came upon a back up of buses and jeeps, all waiting for a back-hoe that was removing, shifting, stamping down piles of earth and stone that were blocking the road. I still don't know if it was planned construction or a landslide, but we weren't moving until it was done! Eventually, the way was clear and...again...we drove on. Then, like some perfectly orchestrated universal joke, we came upon a fresh landslide just before Dana. We were the first on the scene and it occurred to me that our previous hold-up may very well have saved lives as these displaced boulders fell away from their source, bringing ample soil and big rocks down with them. Now...one might think this scenario would've upset us as we were quite tired of traveling at this point. But, contrary to feeling annoyed...I found myself fascinated by the ensuing events. Never before have I witnessed such a thing. Right away, our driver set to work, joined shortly by every subsequent driver and many able-bodied passengers. With bare hands they shoveled dirt...pooling their strength with little more than muscle and sweat and a feeble looking crowbar...rolling boulders into better positions and packing the soil over and around them...making a safely passable route over the landslide. It was truly amazing to observe! No one pulled out their mobile to call someone else to fix it...no complaining about the inconvenience of it. No...unlike Western cultures, they simply figured it out on their own. And, as our jeep drove over it empty and we all jumped back in, I felt giddy...oddly grateful for the strange gift of such an experience. We could've taken our packs and walked that last 4km, but we were simply too intrigued! We made it to Tatopani during a downpour and ran up the rain-soaked stairs to find a room with hot shower, just for the night. Now, after a lovely soak in the spring and last night's deep sleep, I'm considering strapping the pack on again to walk the final 20km or so to Nayapul, but we shall see how I feel tomorrow. My right knee is causing much discomfort...difficulty bearing weight...not really conducive to making the 2000 metre ascent to Poon Hill. Hopefully more hot spring healing will set me right again, or I'll be spending another day boarding bumpy busses and jeeps. Either way, my return to Pokhara is sure to be adventurous!
8 June: Day 14...more relaxation...feeling lazy...napping...visiting the hot springs...coloring a mandala...sipping chia. Body recovering...aches and pains slowly subsiding...but still quite tired. Planning to leave tomorrow...likely via bus. Though we'd both love to walk the remainder of the way, our uncertain finances seem to demand that we get to Pokhara sooner than later, and walking would take at least two more days...two more expensive villages...several more expensive meals. So...though it saddens me somewhat...it would seem that our trekking is over. We've finished walking. Feels...quite strange. We hiked about 115 kilometers...what an incredible accomplishment!
11 June: Back in Pokhara...processing...marveling. The trek may be over...but the learning continues. *Watching the sun bounce off ripples...showing the last of its face before slipping behind clouds. *Saying goodbye to the lake...to Pokhara...to the Annapurnas...to the myriad memories I've woven here...beside this lake...between those peaks. This place has been so transformative...amazingly difficult and unbelievably beautiful. I find it strangely hard to leave. *Tomorrow...I'm headed back to Kathmandu. It's anyone's guess where I'll go from there.
Onward and upward...in gratitude...