SECOND BREAKFAST
Made famous by the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings, second breakfast became a way of life for us on the Annapurna Trek. On many occasions we started the day with porridge which got us through the first few hours but by mid-morning we were usually looking for something more - a second breakfast. Second breakfast was usually taken at a more leisurely pace than first breakfast mainly because we were a little weary from the early morning walk. The food choices were a little thin but it was usually the time to try some soup or fried macaroni - anything to provide the energy for the next few hours.
PORTERS
The porters who carry supplies up and down the Annapurna circuit work tirelessly. Many of them carry enormous loads in their large woven baskets that they call Doko. The shoulder straps are usually made from twine and dig into the shoulders but the majority of the weight is taken on the head. Leather or cloth strips are placed on top of the head and another length of twine called a Tumpline is used to support the load on the back. Strong neck muscles are needed to do this for any length of time. Two to three minutes was my limit. These guys do it for hours a day, day after day.
PRAYER WHEELS
During the trek Travis got addicted to prayer wheels. Higher in the Annapurna circuit the villages show more Tibetan influence, not least by the scores of prayer wheels at the entrance points and the many Tibetan Monasteries (Gompas). Passing each cluster of prayer wheels Travis made sure to turn each one ensuring that the mantra inscribed on each one was 'said' as the wheel spins. I enjoyed spinning the wheels as well but a few of the rows contained close to a hundred wheels and I didn't always bother to do them all. Trav took it very seriously ensuring he recited his own mantra as well - Happiness, Good Fortune, Love and Peace. He must of missed one because war broke out in Iraq while we were away.
DAL BHAT
Dal Bhat is the national dish of Nepal and consists of rice, lentil soup and curried vegetables, usually potatoes. Occasionally you can get a non-vegetarian Dal Bhat with some chewy Yak meat but the vegetarian option is the most popular. The best thing about ordering Dal for dinner is that it just keeps on coming until you say stop - more rice, more soup, more vegetables. Another good option are the Buff Momos. Momos are parcels meat or vegetable wrapped in dough and steamed, similar to Chinese dim sum or American pot stickers. Buff is short for water buffalo, the obvious alternative for beef since the cow is sacred and cannot (in theory) be eaten.
LITTLE ISRAEL
I didn't pay much attention to it at the time but I noticed that there were a lot of Koreans in Calcutta, especially around Sudder Street where I was staying. One night at the guesthouse I shared half a bottle of Bagpiper Whiskey with a young Korean man celebrating his 20th birthday. It was possibly the worst whiskey I have ever tasted but it didn't help that he used Pepsi Blue as the mixer. I should have taken it straight.
There were many Koreans in Calcutta but it's nothing compared to the masses of Israelis in Pokhara. They are everywhere, complaining about this and that with their big hair and angry faces. Many of the shops have signs in Hebrew to cater just to them, but many other shops and guesthouses prefer not to deal with them. One shopkeeper explained to me that he deliberately charges outrageous prices for Israelis in the hope that they will stay away. "My life is very simple." He said, "I don't need Israeli people making it difficult for me." When I asked him why he told me that many of them are abusive and argumentative to the point where he refuses to do business with them.
THE LAUGHING BUDDHA
D'Arcy had been in Pokhara last October and, knowing that I was there, he sent me an e-mail telling me to go and see Tej and Isore, the owners of the laughing Buddha Restaurant at the north end of town. I went along and said that I was a friend of someone they might remember and described John in the usual way but without using his name - tall man, red hair, he's from Wales, very funny. They didn't recognise who I was describing so I produced my digital camera and showed them a photo of John and I together in Burma last month. They both looked for a while at the photo and then at each other, "John?" they said in unison pointing at the camera, and then collapsed into the nearest chair in laughter. "Oh, we remember John", said Isore. Over the next few days I ate every meal at the Laughing Buddha. One day I spent four hours there for breakfast, reading the newspapers and talking with Tej and Ross, then took Tej's boat out on the lake for a few hours, returning in time to spend another three hours at dinner.
POKHARA
After a week in Pokhara enjoying the simple pleasures of life and recovering from the trek and the associated illnesses that came along with it, Ross and myself made a move towards Kathmandu. It was sad leaving Pokhara behind and bidding farewell to the people who had kept me company during my stay. There was the 'something' women next to the guesthouse, who tirelessly suggested I buy 'something' from their stalls every time I passed. Something, anything - they didn't care. "Business is slow, I need lucky money", they would say. There was Mann at the guesthouse who timidly suggested that I get my haircut at his friends' salon each time I came to the reception. The Tibetan women who paraded up and down the main street selling bracelets and necklaces - "Just look okay?" they would say. I would look but I rarely bought. Mostly I just wanted to talk to them to pass the time of day. There was Garrick the Dutch explorer with badly cracked feet who we met on the Annapurna circuit and Mike from Calgary who carried ten bottles of Apple Brandy from Marpha for six days because he was convinced you couldn't buy any in Pokhara. He was wrong but his wonderful eccentricity and naivety was a welcome relief. He would sometimes come up with the most absurd facts like "Did you know you can starve to death by eating just celery?" It's because the body uses more energy breaking it down than it receives in nutritional value. One night at dinner Ross and I were talking over the draw for the upcoming Rugby World Cup and looking at the teams in each group. For the first time Georgia has qualified for the finals and seeing this Mike said "How did Georgia get into the World Cup? It's not a country"
"Oh it is now. Georgia ceded from the Union when war broke out." I lied.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Georgia and Texas. But Georgia was the only one with a good rugby team."
"Boy. I've been in the mountains for too long."
"You sure have." I said with a wry smile.
At 6.30am Ross and I bundled our way out of the guesthouse and into a taxi headed for the tourist bus park. Before we left I looked over at the stall next to the guesthouse. "Something?" said a bright voice. "No, nothing, thank you. See you next time." And with that we were gone.
Sunday, March 30, 2003
Friday, March 28, 2003
The Annapurna Circuit
FIVE AND A HALF KILOMETERS IN THE SKY - THE ANNAPURNA CIRCUIT
The Annapurna circuit is one of the most popular treks in Nepal, more popular even than the Everest Base Camp trek. I have put my experiences down in words but most of them don't do it justice. The scenery and the range of emotions is very hard to put into words for me. It reads like a diary but I didn't know any better way to explain the feeling of trekking in the Nepali mountains.
THE CAST
DAY ONE - Pokhara (820m) to Ngadi (930m)
Ross and I got up before 6am and took our excess baggage to the storage room at the hotel. The tourist bus station was deserted when we arrived but it slowly filled up with people headed in various directions. The bus to Besisahar left with only three people on board - Me, Ross and Travis, a thritysomething ex-Star Bucks manager from Oregon. The bus ride was very long, over 5 hours, and included a stop to change a flat tire. By the end of the trip the bus was overcrowded with many people holding on to the railing while hanging out the door. Instead of starting the walk from Besisahar we walked to the bus station at the far end of town, after signing in at the local ACAP office, and caught a bus to Khudi. We could of walked to Khudi quicker than it took the bus to drive us there. We got stuck in sand after about 3 minutes and it too us an hour to get out and then refill the divot left behind. The weather was nice though and we got to ride on top of the bus and take in the fantastic views. At Khudi we asked the way to Bhulbhule, the next village, and headed off up the valley across the river. At 3.30pm after walking for about 90 minutes we came across some guesthouses on the outskirts of Ngadi and managed to negotiate Rs50 for the three of us to stay for the night - about 20c each. Apart from staying in my nephew's room in Harbour View, this is the cheapest accommodation of the entire trip so far.
DAY TWO - Ngadi (930m) to Shree Chour (1,100m)
We had breakfast at 7am and I was a little sick afterwards, nothing to do with the altitude as we were still below 1000m maybe caused by the food instead. At 8am we set out on a nice flat plain at first but then the trail climbed steeply to Bahundanda at 1100m. When we finally made it to the town we saw a sign that read '60 steps you won't regret' and an arrow pointing straight up further. Although we were jaded from the climb we went the extra distance and weren't disappointed. The gorge was littered with rice terraces and we could see the river snaking away from us towards Ghermu. The sun was hot as we set off after lunch but by the time we reached Ghermu the clouds closed in and it began to rain. We were close to Syange, which is where we wanted to stop for the night, so we pushed on through the rain and past Syange which didn't look like a good option to stay at. Another 30 minutes up the trail we found a guesthouse all on its own at a place called Shree Chour and decided to stay there. Just as we settled in for the evening the rain became much heavier and continued through much of the night. The guesthouse was great though and the proprietor let us watch India beat Sri Lanka in the world cup on television.
DAY THREE - Shree Chour (1,100m) to Karte (1,850m)
Breakfast of porridge again and out on the trail by 7.30am. We had a long day planned because we wanted to get past the recommended destination and push on further towards Chame, which we hoped to make by tomorrow night. It started with a short steep climb to Jagat and then a gradual climb up to Chamje, where we stopped for lunch and watched as a group of runners finished the first leg of the Around Annapurna race. The next portion of the trail went up steeply to Tal and took us close to 2 hours to complete. At Tal we checked in with the ACAP office and by that stage I think each of us wanted to stay there the night but as a group we decided to push on further in the hope of reaching Dharapani. Along the way we saw signs proudly advertising 'Rooms with attached roof' or menus with 'Hot and Shower Soup'. It was starting to become obvious that the further we walked up the valley the more simple the accommodation and the smaller the menu. At times we all cursed our packs and questioned why we bought what we did but every time we thought we had it bad we looked at some of the porters who tirelessly carry heavy loads everyday. One man we saw had a cane basket filled with various thing and two mountain bikes strapped to his back. Another was carrying a massive metal stove complete with flu and possibly firewood as well. Close to 5pm we crossed the river and arrived in Karte and all decided that we had done enough. Two Danes, Thea Carlsberg and Ebbe Tuborg, had arrived a few minutes before us so all five of us bargained for beds at the same guesthouse. Again it was only Rs20 each for the night.
DAY FOUR - Karte (1,850m) to Chame (2,670m)
The Danes set out before us since we were messing around brushing our teeth and packing and repacking our gear. It was a quick easy walk to Dharapani and then through Bagarchhap to Danagyu where we stopped for an unmemorable lunch. By noon we moved on to Timang Besi but it started to rain, lightly at first but then very heavy. Before long we found ourselves in a small restaurant with the Danes again and one of the many groups of Israeli's attempting to make it over the pass by sheer weight of numbers. This was the group that Ross and I had met in Pokhara a week earlier but as is the norm with Israeli's they ignored us completely until they needed a light for a cigarette. The rain didn't last long and we pressed on towards Lata Marang and through pine forests to Thanchok and finally Koto Qupar where myself, Ross, Travis and the Danes signed the ACAP checkpoint book. Late in the afternoon we walked into Chame, spinning prayer wheels along the way. We had just completed three days of the circuit route in two days so we were all feeling tired but very satisfied with what we had done. It would make the next few days a lot easier and allow us an extra day to acclimatise when oxygen levels would become a factor. Unfortunately soon after reaching Chame I received the dreadful news that Australia had just beaten New Zealand in the cricket would cup which bought me down from any kind of high that I was experiencing.
Chame is a busy little place with many stores selling chocolate and warm clothes. You would of thought by the look in my face that I had just returned from two years in the wilderness. It had only been four days but in that time I had come to regret not bringing many things that I could buy here and bringing things that I really shouldn't of. I stocked up on Tang drink mix, Snickers and a pair of boots that could take me over the pass.
The hotel in Chame was the first to advertise hot showers so Travis, Ebbe, myself and Ross (in that order) all had a turn under what turned out to be an ever cooling stream of tepid water - but at least it wasn't cold, not when I had my turn anyway. A warmish shower is never good but the real test came after the shower was over. The air was freezing so it was all that we could do to dry and dress ourselves as quickly as possible before getting too cold. Ebbe got so cold that he began doing laps around the town to get his blood circulating again. Most of us just stood there wide-eyed and shivering, wearing just about everything we had. If the shower was disappointing then dinner made up for it. Thea and I stuck to the mainstream but Ebbe decided to have the Yak steak - which is cured and dried much like jerky - while Ross and Travis had the never ending Dal Bhat which we all tried at one stage during the meal. We had electricity and music which made for a fun evening. Tomorrow we planned for a light day to Pisang but like many plans they don't always go the way they should.
DAY FIVE - Chame (2,670m) to Upper Pisang (3,300m)
Today is the first day above 3,000m. Before leaving Chame we all stocked up with warm weather gear - waterproof pants, gators, gloves etc - and looked forward to a quick easy day. After a long morning walk we stopped in Bhratang for lunch and then climbed steeply up to Dhukure Pokhari stopping many times along the way. We took the time we had to take photographs and mess around as much as we could but the climb was hard work and we all felt hard done by since the map claimed it was pretty flat. After Dhukure a massive valley opened out in front of us and for the first time in many days we saw vast tracts of flat land. We joked with a few porters about the way to Pisang - left or right side of the river - they all said take the right side, although none of them did. We didn't plan on going to Upper Pisang but that's where we ended up late in the afternoon after a rapid fire 300m vertical rise in less than an hour from the bridge over the river. Lower Pisang was 100m below us so rather than give back some of that altitude back we thought it best to stay in Upper. The only option in the ghost-like Upper Pisang was the Bimala Lodge, a rustic mud brick contraption with a couple of dimly lit rooms connected by ladders to two very bright bedrooms both only slightly larger than the beds that occupied them. It was a very simple set up but if we wanted to stay up this high then we didn't have any other options.
Travis convinced everyone to stay after some early doubts and it ended up being a good choice. We had the hotel to ourselves and the five of us played word games all night as the old ladies cooked dinner for us around the indoor fireplace. As we sat around the fireplace I joked that for a short day it was a pretty long day.
I thought it strange that I should be the only one out of the five of us to have a headache. At the time I was worried that I would be the first to succumb to AMS and at a very low altitude but I would find out in the following days exactly what that headache was leading to.
DAY SIX - Upper Pisang (3,300m) to Lower Pisang (3,200m)
We all slept in but my headache persisted into the next day. Just to be safe Ross and I decided to stay in Lower Pisang the next night and meet back with everyone the following morning. Travis had planned to take an acclimatisation day around this height anyway so we had a day to mess around if we all wanted to stick together. We had loosely agreed a few days earlier that the five of us should all attempt the pass together but to do that we had to take care of ourselves going up to the launching point so that we could do it without any problems. Ross and I had an uneventful night with the grumpy hotel owner who claimed he had BBC on TV but never let us watch.
DAY SEVEN - Lower Pisang (3,200m) to Braga (3,360m)
I woke up unaware that it was my birthday. Oh how sad. Ross and I walked up 100m to Upper Pisang to join the others. Today we were going to take the high road to Braga - a route that would take us up to over 3,800m but leave us at Braga only 60m higher than the starting point. The reason for this is - great views, walking in the sunshine and a natural acclimatisation hike. The book says to walk high and sleep low so that's what we were doing today. Above 3,500m altitude begins to play a big part so we had to be careful to temper any lofty goals with that in mind.
By lunch we had reached Ghyaru with the most fantastic views of the Annapurna range. On the walk up we saw no fewer than three avalanches as the hot sun melted the snow on the other side of the river. It was about then that I realised it was my birthday so at one of the drink stops along the next stretch I told the others that today I turned 31. It was nice and low key and very much in contrast to the surprise party that Sara threw for my 30th birthday a year ago. Thoughts turned towards my friends and family more than they had before, and they kept me company over the next few hours as we headed for Braga.
We had a long traverse across to Ngawal, a small town clinging to the side of the hill, and then a long boring walk slowly down to Mungji. Travis drove the group from the front and just kept on going through barren charmless hillside for about two hours - it felt like four though. We didn't talk at all during that time and I don't think we stopped once.
Reaching Braga was another great milestone and a relief. The Dutch doctor we met on the way up recommended the New Yak Hotel and that was the first place we saw as we entered town. There was never any doubt that we would stay there but we bargained hard for the room rate and managed to get a bed for Rs20 each again. The rooms were very nice with a hot shower downstairs and a nice restaurant with a wood burning stove at one end to sit and congregate around. The stove was a nice place to dry wet clothes but before we would leave this place Travis would lose a pair of socks to the stove.
Travis and Ross surprised me with a birthday chocolate cake after dinner and we played a new game that I invented during the day called 'Danish, No Danish' in which the Danes gave us a word in Danish and we had to pick the meaning from three alternatives. Simple but quite hilarious. We scored a point if we guessed correctly, they scored a point if we didn't. The Danes won the five round match 3-2.
DAY EIGHT - ACCLIMATISATION DAY Braga (3,360m)
We planned on two nights in Braga so that we could spend a full day acclimatising to the altitude. In the morning we decided to walk up towards the Ice Lake which is directly up the mountain from Braga at around 4,600m. It would do our bodies good to walk up to that altitude and then sleep back down in Braga below. Thea and Travis walked about half way to the lake but Ross and I almost made it. By our rough estimates we stopped about 200m under the lake because we were both getting tired very easily and the snow was making it very tough to make quick progress. We sat at 4,400m for a little while and I made a few videos for friends and family. Before this trip I had never been above 3,000m and now I was sitting over four kilometres above sea level with still another kilometer to go before the trek would be over. It was heady stuff and I was on a high.
There was no electricity in Braga that night so we sat around the stove again to keep warm. Ebbe left his laundry outside during the night and in the morning he peeled it, frozen, from the washing line.
DAY NINE - Braga (3,360m) to Yak Kharka (4,018m)
Today was the start of a bad few days for me physically and emotionally. I can only thank Travis's optimism, Ross's common sense and the good humour of the Danes that kept me going through what seemed like a torturous few days of climbing.
During the night I woke with chronic diarrhoea and lost just about all the fluids in my body. By the morning I felt like a shell of a person with nothing inside. No energy, no expression on my face and everything around me was happening in slow motion. We had to get moving that day and I felt good enough to walk, albeit slowly, so I took what medication I had and replaced as much fluid as possible and set out towards the pass.
Just up the valley in Manang everyone took the chance to stock up on supplies for the next few days. By now they were pretty standard items- chewing gum, chocolate, powdered drinks. I tried wasting as much time as possible attempting to get some energy back inside me but by the time we left Manang I was even worse than when we first set out. For much of the morning I walked with a dull hum in my ears, my stomach churning and my jelly legs trying to pull my lead feet along the path. There was no way I could slow the pace of the group down from the front so I stayed way at the back and slowly followed from an ever increasing distance.
This was the day I first saw my nemesis, the one who would taunt me over the next few days and severely threaten a successful passage over the pass. Enter the German woman with two sticks. Now it must be said that I never actually met this woman face to face but our paths crossed many times over the next few days in varying circumstances. She had an unmistakable upright walking stance and an economy of movement that couldn't be matched. Her two massive sticks protruded in front of her and she used them more as feelers than for balance. Her posture resembled that of a praying mantis. Her face was always caked in sunscreen, her mouth usually covered by a scarf or the top of her jacket as she slowly negotiated her way around the circuit seemingly oblivious to everyone else around. I never once heard her speak to anyone even through she was travelling with three others.
Lunch was at the top of a long climb with nice views back down the valley but all I could manage to eat was a couple of boiled eggs and some re-hydration salts. The afternoon walk is a blur to me. I only remember walking in some trance like state watching the ground immediately in front of me, all the time searching for a nice rock to sit on or shit behind. For much of the time I followed the German woman with two sticks but even she was putting distance on me easily. By mid afternoon we walked into Yak Town (Yak Kharka) but it was all I could manage to get out of my walking clothes and crawl into bed where I stayed (off and on) until 6.30am. I didn't have any dinner that night or breakfast the next morning and I began to doubt whether or not I could make over the pass in the state I was in. If the group wanted to cross the pass tomorrow I would probably have to sit out but luckily the pass was still two days away so I had time to recover.
DAY TEN - Yak Kharka (4,018m) to Thorong Phedi (4,450m)
It's recommended that once you get over 3,500m you shouldn't go up more than about 500m in one day so that your body can acclimatise to the lack of oxygen in the air. From Yak Kharka the only town that we could safely stay in was Thorong Phedi - no more than four hours away. Not far but in my condition it felt like the toughest day yet.
I walked at a snails pace, following the other four from a massive distance at times. I had a few small head spins as we rose above 4,100m and then 4,200m but nothing that would make me turn back. Because I knew I was struggling my strategy changed dramatically - I tried to walk for 15 minutes and then rest for 5 minutes. Walking so slowly it was hard to see the landscape changing but it was changing, just very subtly and without much of a sense of awe from me. The approach to Thorong Phedi is a slow treacherous climb over loose rock and shingle with some scary drops off to the right. I took many rests during that period counting my steps and hanging my head as more trekkers flew past me. Even the German woman with the two sticks glided slowly by without a word feeling her way as she did so.
Thorong Phedi is small but it didn't matter. For the past ten days the thought of going over the pass has been on my mind and now we had finally made it to the launching point. Now it was the only thing on my mind. I wasn't feeling great but I was healthy enough to eat again, pasta and porridge, and I wasn't about to hold up the group on account of me. None of us were feeling the effects of the altitude but Thea was concerned about her knee. Because of that, we decided to share a porter to Muktinath in the hope that it would speed both of us up. We packed almost all of our gear into my backpack to give to the porter and the rest we left in Thea's pack that I carried.
The night was perfectly still and clear with a massive bright moon gently lighting the mountains around us. It was a surreal evening with all of us nervous to some extent but the setting had a way of quietly calming us all.
DAY ELEVEN - Thorong Phedi (4,450m) to Muktinath (3,800m) OVER THE PASS
Ebbe's alarm clock woke everyone at exactly 4.50am. It was set for 5am but he bought it in Bangkok and you get what you pay for I guess. We wanted to leave as soon as possible but it was too dark to set out straight away. We threw down some porridge and then threw on warm and wet weather gear - anything that might help against the chill in the air. We waited around in the dining room for the right time to go and then right on 6am, just as the first rays of sun hit the Annapurna peaks to the south, we set out on the climb up to the Thorong La Pass. I knew I could make. I knew it, but I couldn't feel it yet.
We didn't know exactly what lay ahead but there was a High Camp about an hours climb away at around 4,800m - so that was the first goal. Even without the full weight of my pack I found it really hard to muster enough energy to keep up a steady pace. The German woman with two sticks passed me silently and easily. I fell behind the others quickly and felt a lot of frustration building inside. I was afraid this was going to take me all day. The last part of the climb was very steep and slippery but at least you could see the lodge up ahead. The early part of the climb was punctuated with many stops for water or a small piece of Snickers. The others made it comfortably within the hour and I was maybe 10 minutes behind them but noticeably exhausted by the effort it took. I perched myself on a chair in the lodge and collapsed face first in a heap on the table. I had assumed this pose many times in the past, but never at 4,800m.
Something happened during that first break that changed the day for me. When we set out after a quick cup of tea I felt so much better. For the first time in three days I was able to keep pace with the rest of the group without falling behind. I don't know what it was but all of a sudden I had my energy back and my body let me proceed at my normal pace.
The second section of the climb took us to a tea shop about an hour further up from High Camp. I wasn't sure of the altitude of the tea shop but it must have been over 5,000m. Thea and Travis lead the way with me in the middle. Ebbe and Ross bought up the rear but Ebbe was having issues with snow blindness but he may have just glanced at the sun. Unlike the first section where we were shielded from the sun by the shape of the mountains, now we were walking in bright sunshine on glistening snow. It was still bitterly cold but at least we had the sun on our backs and the reflection in our faces.
The third section led from the tea shop to the pass at 5,400m. It was the longest of the three sections but not as steep as either of the first two. The five of us stuck together for the first few minutes but then, anticipating a return to my former lethargy, I went out ahead to set the pace. Before long I was on my own and walking in a nice rhythm with the others a little way behind. I passed the German woman with two sticks without a word as she stopped for a break and continued towards the pass. I didn't have my Discman on me by I could hear Sting playing inside my head. He was singing 'Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot' - and I did.
My mind was racing with thoughts about what I would do when I reached the Pass. Would I sink to my knees and kiss the snow? Would there be a tape I could break like a marathon runner? Would I get a medal? A trophy? My name on a plaque in a tea house? Maybe I would hug everyone and give out candy. I could dance or sing. Maybe small children would want my autograph. I'd better blow my nose just in case. Before I knew it the terrain flattened but for the peaks off to each side and I could see the hut at the top of the pass. I walked up in silence to just before the hut and then looked over to my left at another group who had been there a while. 'Do you think you could give me a cheer?' I said. And they all did so that was nice, but there was no tape, no dancing and no small children looking for autographs. I sat and waited for my friends.
The rest of the group arrived together not long after me and I felt terrible that I had bolted up in front of them. In retrospect it would have been fitting to have reached the pass together since I couldn't of done it without them. This morning I wouldn't have thought it possible for us all to reach the top at the same time because I always imagined that I would be far behind the others. Now I felt silly for racing ahead and staying there.
After about an hour at the Pass and almost right on midday we started down the other side towards Muktinath. The map claimed the walk would take about three hours but it took all of us much longer. It's a long way down from the Pass to Muktinath at 3,800m and at times it seemed never ending. Ross and I stopped only a couple of times briefly and we made it to town by 3.30pm just before it started snowing, passing, being overtaken and re-passing the German woman with two sticks a few times, without a word. Travis, Ebbe and Thea arrived an hour later after Ross and I had showered.
That night at dinner we met an Israeli couple that had been travelling for the past year. At first I thought they were a decent pair but before long the woman went to great lengths to tell us how much they despised each of the countries they had been to. Every country had a fundamental problem that was too irritating to cope with; Americans are stupid, Vietnamese are too pushy, Nepali's are stupid, Australia is boring, the roads are too hilly in New Zealand and the people don't speak English. She really got my gander up because I have been to her hometown in northern Israel, Haifa, and found it to be the least interesting place I could imagine. I found myself arguing with her in my head as I went to bed that night, a far cry from the euphoria of crossing the path earlier that day. I closed my eyes and tried to let Sting play inside my head again. I had just walked over a Pass five and a half kilometres in the sky and I needed some sleep.
DAY TWELVE - Muktinath (3,800m) to Eklobhatti (2,740m)
The Israeli's were back at breakfast as we tried to get to know an Australian, Dutch, Irish group who crossed the Pass with us yesterday. The Australian girl was telling everyone that she was from Adelaide in South Australia. I was trying to listen when the Israeli girl next to me leaned in and whispered 'Adelaide is so boring.' and then screwed her face into a look of absolute disgust. 'Would you like me to tell her that?' I said motioning to the Australian. She just rolled her eyes and shot me a look that I'm still trying to recover from.
We took it slow in the morning a visited the local monastery where they have an everlasting flame. It looked more like a little pilot light but the setting was serine, sort of like a Japanese garden, and it was nice not to be walking with a purpose.
In the afternoon we struck a small crisis. We had planned to walk to Kagbeni and spend the night there. Travis and Thea took the lead and before long were well ahead of Ebbe, Ross and myself. They were sharp enough to spot the sign which took them the right way directly to Kagbeni but we missed it and ended up at Eklobhatti - a junction town on the riverbank 45 minutes past Kagbeni. It was an easy mistake to make as the landscape was desolated with little to hold the attention. We assumed the other two must of made the same mistake as us so we tried to guess what they would of done since they obviously didn't wait in Eklobhatti. We walked further south to the next town across the river in the gathering gloom but they weren't there. There wasn't much of anything there apart from some middle-aged men playing with bows and arrows. We quickly turned around and went back to the junction and decided to stay the night there at the Hilton Guesthouse, with Ebbe assuming that Travis and Thea would pass by early the next morning from Kagbeni.
The Hilton, like many other imitations around the world, ended up being a fine place to stay. We had the guesthouse to ourselves, the food was fantastic and we enjoyed a Tuborg beer with our very own Danish Viking. We also had electricity for the first time in many days so I took the chance to charge my camera and write some notes on the computer and the other two stayed up past 11pm with me. It was a nice relaxing evening.
DAY THIRTEEN - Eklobhatti (2,740m) to Marpha (2,670m)
As Ebbe predicted Thea and Travis walked by early in the morning. We spent some time explaining exactly what happened but basically it boiled down to the fact that we missed the sign and kept walking. Travis gave us the news that the US had began a campaign in Iraq but beyond that he didn't have many details.
We carried on walking down the valley using the dried up riverbed as a path for most of the way. The footing was uneven and awkward but slowly we moved as a group towards Jomosom, stopping there for lunch. The German woman with two sticks passed us again, in silence. All of us were disappointed by the town and couldn't wait to leave and we ended up staying a further 90 minutes down the valley in Marpha, a friendly town with plenty of options to stay and great food. On the way though we were faced with our first real river crossing which we all managed to negotiate without getting too wet. The views of the mountains are certainly not as spectacular from this side but still very good nonetheless.
DAY FOURTEEN - REST DAY Marpha (2,670m)
Had breakfast, lunch and dinner. Went to bed well rested after playing Gin and eating apple crumble with hot custard.
DAY FIFTEEN - Marpha (2,670m) to Ghasa (2,010m)
After the apple crumble we had for dessert last night we had to have the same again for breakfast to get us started. It was going to be a long day so we needed the extra sugar. The walk to Tukuche was uneventful, staying on the path most of the way but then we headed back into the flood plain to walk on the smooth stones once more past the next two towns - Khobang and Larjung. We crossed the river a few times before meeting back with the trail again just before we reached Kokhethanti, where we stopped for lunch after nearly four hours walking.
After lunch Ross and I peeled off from the others in Kalopani, hoping to find the cricket world cup final on television but we didn't have any luck. We met many helpful people, including one young man on a bicycle who was so intent on giving us a 'Namaste' with his hands in the prayer position that he almost fell off his bike. We carried on a little behind the others but it didn't take long for us to meet up again near the next town, Lete.
The path narrowed considerably as it hugged the slope high above the river below and we walked by pine trees and ferns all the way through Kaiku and finally to Ghasa where we pulled in for the night. We had walked for almost eight hours today, possibly because we all felt so rested after the rest day, but mainly because we were getting sick of the trail and we wanted out as soon as possible. We chose to stay at the National Guesthouse where the rooms were great but the food was very disappointing.
DAY SIXTEEN - Ghasa (2,010m) to Tatopani (1,190m)
Early in the morning I had one of those rare moments of severe déjà vu. A few minutes after setting off in the morning I saw a familiar face walking towards our group. It was Kim, a Canadian woman I had met in the Strawberry Milkshake bar in Maymyo, Burma about two months ago. We did the 'What a small world it is' routine and chatted for a little while but we had to press on.
Later that morning we met more familiar faces but these ones were from days earlier, not months. We joined up with the Australian girl again and her friends from Ireland and Germany. They had read that the best chocolate cake on the trail could be found at Dana near a waterfall, a few hours away so together we walked with a purpose and the promise of good food. We found Dana, the waterfall and the cake and all of us left with chocolate icing in the corner of our mouths. It was delicious.
Getting to Tatopani was slow going because we ran across many mule trains coming the other way. Some of them lasted 15 minutes and during that time we were pinned to the side of the trail as they ambled by with their massive cargo strapped to their sides. It's difficult to make much forward progress through a mule train, especially when the path is narrow and one side drops off steeply towards the river.
It was late in the afternoon by the time we reached Tatopani and it didn't take long for all of us to migrate down to the Hot Pools beside the river where we spent the best part of the next four hours drinking and eating popcorn. It was nice to soak away the aches and pains and with tonight being Ross's last night with us there was a celebratory atmosphere about the evening. He was heading to the Annapurna Base Camp (ABC) with the Australian, Irish, German group while the rest of us were taking the quickest route back to Pokhara.
DAY SEVENTEEN - Tatopani (1,190m) to Beni (830m)
Ross left early and turned off towards ABC while Travis, Thea, Ebbe and I made our way slowly down the valley towards Beni. It was a long slow walk and it times it seemed that Beni never got any closer. We walked for over eight hours before Ebbe and I stumbled into the Yeti Guesthouse in Beni at 5:56pm. Within minutes Ebbe had the Tuborg flowing while we waiting for Travis and Thea who arrived a half hour later.
The walking was over. From here the only way back to Pokhara was a bus so tonight we tried to celebrate but it had been a very tough day and we were all tired - mainly from the days walk but also from a big night in Tatopani. We wound down with another bland meal, some more Tuborg and a game of cards.
DAY EIGHTEEN - Beni (830m) to Pokhara (820m)
Ebbe woke up with food poisoning from the dodgy chicken dish he ate at dinner last night. He couldn't get out of bed and for the rest of us it meant we had to wait. Wait to see if he would get any better as we passed the time playing cards and walking around the grim town of Beni. Eventually we forced Ebbe out of bed and down to the bus station by the afternoon despite the fact that he really should have stayed in bed all day. The bus ride was bumpy and not particularly comfortable but he toughed it out and by 6pm we were back in Pokhara, back in my hotel, back to a hot shower, and clean underwear.
It was a fabulous walk. Over 250km in 18 days, up to and over a pass 5,400m above sea level staying in some charming little villages with breathtaking views of the Annapurna Mountains. I'm glad I did it.
The Annapurna circuit is one of the most popular treks in Nepal, more popular even than the Everest Base Camp trek. I have put my experiences down in words but most of them don't do it justice. The scenery and the range of emotions is very hard to put into words for me. It reads like a diary but I didn't know any better way to explain the feeling of trekking in the Nepali mountains.
THE CAST
Ebbe, Travis, Thea, Ross & Myself
DAY ONE - Pokhara (820m) to Ngadi (930m)
Ross and I got up before 6am and took our excess baggage to the storage room at the hotel. The tourist bus station was deserted when we arrived but it slowly filled up with people headed in various directions. The bus to Besisahar left with only three people on board - Me, Ross and Travis, a thritysomething ex-Star Bucks manager from Oregon. The bus ride was very long, over 5 hours, and included a stop to change a flat tire. By the end of the trip the bus was overcrowded with many people holding on to the railing while hanging out the door. Instead of starting the walk from Besisahar we walked to the bus station at the far end of town, after signing in at the local ACAP office, and caught a bus to Khudi. We could of walked to Khudi quicker than it took the bus to drive us there. We got stuck in sand after about 3 minutes and it too us an hour to get out and then refill the divot left behind. The weather was nice though and we got to ride on top of the bus and take in the fantastic views. At Khudi we asked the way to Bhulbhule, the next village, and headed off up the valley across the river. At 3.30pm after walking for about 90 minutes we came across some guesthouses on the outskirts of Ngadi and managed to negotiate Rs50 for the three of us to stay for the night - about 20c each. Apart from staying in my nephew's room in Harbour View, this is the cheapest accommodation of the entire trip so far.
Ross & I at the very first bridge
Difficult to ride a bike up these steps
DAY TWO - Ngadi (930m) to Shree Chour (1,100m)
We had breakfast at 7am and I was a little sick afterwards, nothing to do with the altitude as we were still below 1000m maybe caused by the food instead. At 8am we set out on a nice flat plain at first but then the trail climbed steeply to Bahundanda at 1100m. When we finally made it to the town we saw a sign that read '60 steps you won't regret' and an arrow pointing straight up further. Although we were jaded from the climb we went the extra distance and weren't disappointed. The gorge was littered with rice terraces and we could see the river snaking away from us towards Ghermu. The sun was hot as we set off after lunch but by the time we reached Ghermu the clouds closed in and it began to rain. We were close to Syange, which is where we wanted to stop for the night, so we pushed on through the rain and past Syange which didn't look like a good option to stay at. Another 30 minutes up the trail we found a guesthouse all on its own at a place called Shree Chour and decided to stay there. Just as we settled in for the evening the rain became much heavier and continued through much of the night. The guesthouse was great though and the proprietor let us watch India beat Sri Lanka in the world cup on television.
Rice terraces of Bahundanda
Taking a break near Bahundanda
DAY THREE - Shree Chour (1,100m) to Karte (1,850m)
Breakfast of porridge again and out on the trail by 7.30am. We had a long day planned because we wanted to get past the recommended destination and push on further towards Chame, which we hoped to make by tomorrow night. It started with a short steep climb to Jagat and then a gradual climb up to Chamje, where we stopped for lunch and watched as a group of runners finished the first leg of the Around Annapurna race. The next portion of the trail went up steeply to Tal and took us close to 2 hours to complete. At Tal we checked in with the ACAP office and by that stage I think each of us wanted to stay there the night but as a group we decided to push on further in the hope of reaching Dharapani. Along the way we saw signs proudly advertising 'Rooms with attached roof' or menus with 'Hot and Shower Soup'. It was starting to become obvious that the further we walked up the valley the more simple the accommodation and the smaller the menu. At times we all cursed our packs and questioned why we bought what we did but every time we thought we had it bad we looked at some of the porters who tirelessly carry heavy loads everyday. One man we saw had a cane basket filled with various thing and two mountain bikes strapped to his back. Another was carrying a massive metal stove complete with flu and possibly firewood as well. Close to 5pm we crossed the river and arrived in Karte and all decided that we had done enough. Two Danes, Thea Carlsberg and Ebbe Tuborg, had arrived a few minutes before us so all five of us bargained for beds at the same guesthouse. Again it was only Rs20 each for the night.
DAY FOUR - Karte (1,850m) to Chame (2,670m)
The Danes set out before us since we were messing around brushing our teeth and packing and repacking our gear. It was a quick easy walk to Dharapani and then through Bagarchhap to Danagyu where we stopped for an unmemorable lunch. By noon we moved on to Timang Besi but it started to rain, lightly at first but then very heavy. Before long we found ourselves in a small restaurant with the Danes again and one of the many groups of Israeli's attempting to make it over the pass by sheer weight of numbers. This was the group that Ross and I had met in Pokhara a week earlier but as is the norm with Israeli's they ignored us completely until they needed a light for a cigarette. The rain didn't last long and we pressed on towards Lata Marang and through pine forests to Thanchok and finally Koto Qupar where myself, Ross, Travis and the Danes signed the ACAP checkpoint book. Late in the afternoon we walked into Chame, spinning prayer wheels along the way. We had just completed three days of the circuit route in two days so we were all feeling tired but very satisfied with what we had done. It would make the next few days a lot easier and allow us an extra day to acclimatise when oxygen levels would become a factor. Unfortunately soon after reaching Chame I received the dreadful news that Australia had just beaten New Zealand in the cricket would cup which bought me down from any kind of high that I was experiencing.
Chame is a busy little place with many stores selling chocolate and warm clothes. You would of thought by the look in my face that I had just returned from two years in the wilderness. It had only been four days but in that time I had come to regret not bringing many things that I could buy here and bringing things that I really shouldn't of. I stocked up on Tang drink mix, Snickers and a pair of boots that could take me over the pass.
The hotel in Chame was the first to advertise hot showers so Travis, Ebbe, myself and Ross (in that order) all had a turn under what turned out to be an ever cooling stream of tepid water - but at least it wasn't cold, not when I had my turn anyway. A warmish shower is never good but the real test came after the shower was over. The air was freezing so it was all that we could do to dry and dress ourselves as quickly as possible before getting too cold. Ebbe got so cold that he began doing laps around the town to get his blood circulating again. Most of us just stood there wide-eyed and shivering, wearing just about everything we had. If the shower was disappointing then dinner made up for it. Thea and I stuck to the mainstream but Ebbe decided to have the Yak steak - which is cured and dried much like jerky - while Ross and Travis had the never ending Dal Bhat which we all tried at one stage during the meal. We had electricity and music which made for a fun evening. Tomorrow we planned for a light day to Pisang but like many plans they don't always go the way they should.
The Annapurnas from Chame
DAY FIVE - Chame (2,670m) to Upper Pisang (3,300m)
Today is the first day above 3,000m. Before leaving Chame we all stocked up with warm weather gear - waterproof pants, gators, gloves etc - and looked forward to a quick easy day. After a long morning walk we stopped in Bhratang for lunch and then climbed steeply up to Dhukure Pokhari stopping many times along the way. We took the time we had to take photographs and mess around as much as we could but the climb was hard work and we all felt hard done by since the map claimed it was pretty flat. After Dhukure a massive valley opened out in front of us and for the first time in many days we saw vast tracts of flat land. We joked with a few porters about the way to Pisang - left or right side of the river - they all said take the right side, although none of them did. We didn't plan on going to Upper Pisang but that's where we ended up late in the afternoon after a rapid fire 300m vertical rise in less than an hour from the bridge over the river. Lower Pisang was 100m below us so rather than give back some of that altitude back we thought it best to stay in Upper. The only option in the ghost-like Upper Pisang was the Bimala Lodge, a rustic mud brick contraption with a couple of dimly lit rooms connected by ladders to two very bright bedrooms both only slightly larger than the beds that occupied them. It was a very simple set up but if we wanted to stay up this high then we didn't have any other options.
One of the scree slopes we had to navigate
Upper Pisang
Travis convinced everyone to stay after some early doubts and it ended up being a good choice. We had the hotel to ourselves and the five of us played word games all night as the old ladies cooked dinner for us around the indoor fireplace. As we sat around the fireplace I joked that for a short day it was a pretty long day.
I thought it strange that I should be the only one out of the five of us to have a headache. At the time I was worried that I would be the first to succumb to AMS and at a very low altitude but I would find out in the following days exactly what that headache was leading to.
DAY SIX - Upper Pisang (3,300m) to Lower Pisang (3,200m)
We all slept in but my headache persisted into the next day. Just to be safe Ross and I decided to stay in Lower Pisang the next night and meet back with everyone the following morning. Travis had planned to take an acclimatisation day around this height anyway so we had a day to mess around if we all wanted to stick together. We had loosely agreed a few days earlier that the five of us should all attempt the pass together but to do that we had to take care of ourselves going up to the launching point so that we could do it without any problems. Ross and I had an uneventful night with the grumpy hotel owner who claimed he had BBC on TV but never let us watch.
DAY SEVEN - Lower Pisang (3,200m) to Braga (3,360m)
I woke up unaware that it was my birthday. Oh how sad. Ross and I walked up 100m to Upper Pisang to join the others. Today we were going to take the high road to Braga - a route that would take us up to over 3,800m but leave us at Braga only 60m higher than the starting point. The reason for this is - great views, walking in the sunshine and a natural acclimatisation hike. The book says to walk high and sleep low so that's what we were doing today. Above 3,500m altitude begins to play a big part so we had to be careful to temper any lofty goals with that in mind.
By lunch we had reached Ghyaru with the most fantastic views of the Annapurna range. On the walk up we saw no fewer than three avalanches as the hot sun melted the snow on the other side of the river. It was about then that I realised it was my birthday so at one of the drink stops along the next stretch I told the others that today I turned 31. It was nice and low key and very much in contrast to the surprise party that Sara threw for my 30th birthday a year ago. Thoughts turned towards my friends and family more than they had before, and they kept me company over the next few hours as we headed for Braga.
The view from lunch at Ghyaru
We had a long traverse across to Ngawal, a small town clinging to the side of the hill, and then a long boring walk slowly down to Mungji. Travis drove the group from the front and just kept on going through barren charmless hillside for about two hours - it felt like four though. We didn't talk at all during that time and I don't think we stopped once.
Reaching Braga was another great milestone and a relief. The Dutch doctor we met on the way up recommended the New Yak Hotel and that was the first place we saw as we entered town. There was never any doubt that we would stay there but we bargained hard for the room rate and managed to get a bed for Rs20 each again. The rooms were very nice with a hot shower downstairs and a nice restaurant with a wood burning stove at one end to sit and congregate around. The stove was a nice place to dry wet clothes but before we would leave this place Travis would lose a pair of socks to the stove.
Prayer wheels
Travis and Ross surprised me with a birthday chocolate cake after dinner and we played a new game that I invented during the day called 'Danish, No Danish' in which the Danes gave us a word in Danish and we had to pick the meaning from three alternatives. Simple but quite hilarious. We scored a point if we guessed correctly, they scored a point if we didn't. The Danes won the five round match 3-2.
DAY EIGHT - ACCLIMATISATION DAY Braga (3,360m)
We planned on two nights in Braga so that we could spend a full day acclimatising to the altitude. In the morning we decided to walk up towards the Ice Lake which is directly up the mountain from Braga at around 4,600m. It would do our bodies good to walk up to that altitude and then sleep back down in Braga below. Thea and Travis walked about half way to the lake but Ross and I almost made it. By our rough estimates we stopped about 200m under the lake because we were both getting tired very easily and the snow was making it very tough to make quick progress. We sat at 4,400m for a little while and I made a few videos for friends and family. Before this trip I had never been above 3,000m and now I was sitting over four kilometres above sea level with still another kilometer to go before the trek would be over. It was heady stuff and I was on a high.
Hanging out at 4,400m
Near the Ice Lake
DAY NINE - Braga (3,360m) to Yak Kharka (4,018m)
Today was the start of a bad few days for me physically and emotionally. I can only thank Travis's optimism, Ross's common sense and the good humour of the Danes that kept me going through what seemed like a torturous few days of climbing.
During the night I woke with chronic diarrhoea and lost just about all the fluids in my body. By the morning I felt like a shell of a person with nothing inside. No energy, no expression on my face and everything around me was happening in slow motion. We had to get moving that day and I felt good enough to walk, albeit slowly, so I took what medication I had and replaced as much fluid as possible and set out towards the pass.
Just up the valley in Manang everyone took the chance to stock up on supplies for the next few days. By now they were pretty standard items- chewing gum, chocolate, powdered drinks. I tried wasting as much time as possible attempting to get some energy back inside me but by the time we left Manang I was even worse than when we first set out. For much of the morning I walked with a dull hum in my ears, my stomach churning and my jelly legs trying to pull my lead feet along the path. There was no way I could slow the pace of the group down from the front so I stayed way at the back and slowly followed from an ever increasing distance.
Looking down on Braga
This was the day I first saw my nemesis, the one who would taunt me over the next few days and severely threaten a successful passage over the pass. Enter the German woman with two sticks. Now it must be said that I never actually met this woman face to face but our paths crossed many times over the next few days in varying circumstances. She had an unmistakable upright walking stance and an economy of movement that couldn't be matched. Her two massive sticks protruded in front of her and she used them more as feelers than for balance. Her posture resembled that of a praying mantis. Her face was always caked in sunscreen, her mouth usually covered by a scarf or the top of her jacket as she slowly negotiated her way around the circuit seemingly oblivious to everyone else around. I never once heard her speak to anyone even through she was travelling with three others.
Lunch was at the top of a long climb with nice views back down the valley but all I could manage to eat was a couple of boiled eggs and some re-hydration salts. The afternoon walk is a blur to me. I only remember walking in some trance like state watching the ground immediately in front of me, all the time searching for a nice rock to sit on or shit behind. For much of the time I followed the German woman with two sticks but even she was putting distance on me easily. By mid afternoon we walked into Yak Town (Yak Kharka) but it was all I could manage to get out of my walking clothes and crawl into bed where I stayed (off and on) until 6.30am. I didn't have any dinner that night or breakfast the next morning and I began to doubt whether or not I could make over the pass in the state I was in. If the group wanted to cross the pass tomorrow I would probably have to sit out but luckily the pass was still two days away so I had time to recover.
DAY TEN - Yak Kharka (4,018m) to Thorong Phedi (4,450m)
It's recommended that once you get over 3,500m you shouldn't go up more than about 500m in one day so that your body can acclimatise to the lack of oxygen in the air. From Yak Kharka the only town that we could safely stay in was Thorong Phedi - no more than four hours away. Not far but in my condition it felt like the toughest day yet.
I walked at a snails pace, following the other four from a massive distance at times. I had a few small head spins as we rose above 4,100m and then 4,200m but nothing that would make me turn back. Because I knew I was struggling my strategy changed dramatically - I tried to walk for 15 minutes and then rest for 5 minutes. Walking so slowly it was hard to see the landscape changing but it was changing, just very subtly and without much of a sense of awe from me. The approach to Thorong Phedi is a slow treacherous climb over loose rock and shingle with some scary drops off to the right. I took many rests during that period counting my steps and hanging my head as more trekkers flew past me. Even the German woman with the two sticks glided slowly by without a word feeling her way as she did so.
Thorong Phedi is small but it didn't matter. For the past ten days the thought of going over the pass has been on my mind and now we had finally made it to the launching point. Now it was the only thing on my mind. I wasn't feeling great but I was healthy enough to eat again, pasta and porridge, and I wasn't about to hold up the group on account of me. None of us were feeling the effects of the altitude but Thea was concerned about her knee. Because of that, we decided to share a porter to Muktinath in the hope that it would speed both of us up. We packed almost all of our gear into my backpack to give to the porter and the rest we left in Thea's pack that I carried.
The night was perfectly still and clear with a massive bright moon gently lighting the mountains around us. It was a surreal evening with all of us nervous to some extent but the setting had a way of quietly calming us all.
DAY ELEVEN - Thorong Phedi (4,450m) to Muktinath (3,800m) OVER THE PASS
Ebbe's alarm clock woke everyone at exactly 4.50am. It was set for 5am but he bought it in Bangkok and you get what you pay for I guess. We wanted to leave as soon as possible but it was too dark to set out straight away. We threw down some porridge and then threw on warm and wet weather gear - anything that might help against the chill in the air. We waited around in the dining room for the right time to go and then right on 6am, just as the first rays of sun hit the Annapurna peaks to the south, we set out on the climb up to the Thorong La Pass. I knew I could make. I knew it, but I couldn't feel it yet.
We didn't know exactly what lay ahead but there was a High Camp about an hours climb away at around 4,800m - so that was the first goal. Even without the full weight of my pack I found it really hard to muster enough energy to keep up a steady pace. The German woman with two sticks passed me silently and easily. I fell behind the others quickly and felt a lot of frustration building inside. I was afraid this was going to take me all day. The last part of the climb was very steep and slippery but at least you could see the lodge up ahead. The early part of the climb was punctuated with many stops for water or a small piece of Snickers. The others made it comfortably within the hour and I was maybe 10 minutes behind them but noticeably exhausted by the effort it took. I perched myself on a chair in the lodge and collapsed face first in a heap on the table. I had assumed this pose many times in the past, but never at 4,800m.
Something happened during that first break that changed the day for me. When we set out after a quick cup of tea I felt so much better. For the first time in three days I was able to keep pace with the rest of the group without falling behind. I don't know what it was but all of a sudden I had my energy back and my body let me proceed at my normal pace.
The second section of the climb took us to a tea shop about an hour further up from High Camp. I wasn't sure of the altitude of the tea shop but it must have been over 5,000m. Thea and Travis lead the way with me in the middle. Ebbe and Ross bought up the rear but Ebbe was having issues with snow blindness but he may have just glanced at the sun. Unlike the first section where we were shielded from the sun by the shape of the mountains, now we were walking in bright sunshine on glistening snow. It was still bitterly cold but at least we had the sun on our backs and the reflection in our faces.
The third section led from the tea shop to the pass at 5,400m. It was the longest of the three sections but not as steep as either of the first two. The five of us stuck together for the first few minutes but then, anticipating a return to my former lethargy, I went out ahead to set the pace. Before long I was on my own and walking in a nice rhythm with the others a little way behind. I passed the German woman with two sticks without a word as she stopped for a break and continued towards the pass. I didn't have my Discman on me by I could hear Sting playing inside my head. He was singing 'Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot' - and I did.
My mind was racing with thoughts about what I would do when I reached the Pass. Would I sink to my knees and kiss the snow? Would there be a tape I could break like a marathon runner? Would I get a medal? A trophy? My name on a plaque in a tea house? Maybe I would hug everyone and give out candy. I could dance or sing. Maybe small children would want my autograph. I'd better blow my nose just in case. Before I knew it the terrain flattened but for the peaks off to each side and I could see the hut at the top of the pass. I walked up in silence to just before the hut and then looked over to my left at another group who had been there a while. 'Do you think you could give me a cheer?' I said. And they all did so that was nice, but there was no tape, no dancing and no small children looking for autographs. I sat and waited for my friends.
The rest of the group arrived together not long after me and I felt terrible that I had bolted up in front of them. In retrospect it would have been fitting to have reached the pass together since I couldn't of done it without them. This morning I wouldn't have thought it possible for us all to reach the top at the same time because I always imagined that I would be far behind the others. Now I felt silly for racing ahead and staying there.
Me at the Tharong La pass (5,400m)
That night at dinner we met an Israeli couple that had been travelling for the past year. At first I thought they were a decent pair but before long the woman went to great lengths to tell us how much they despised each of the countries they had been to. Every country had a fundamental problem that was too irritating to cope with; Americans are stupid, Vietnamese are too pushy, Nepali's are stupid, Australia is boring, the roads are too hilly in New Zealand and the people don't speak English. She really got my gander up because I have been to her hometown in northern Israel, Haifa, and found it to be the least interesting place I could imagine. I found myself arguing with her in my head as I went to bed that night, a far cry from the euphoria of crossing the path earlier that day. I closed my eyes and tried to let Sting play inside my head again. I had just walked over a Pass five and a half kilometres in the sky and I needed some sleep.
DAY TWELVE - Muktinath (3,800m) to Eklobhatti (2,740m)
The Israeli's were back at breakfast as we tried to get to know an Australian, Dutch, Irish group who crossed the Pass with us yesterday. The Australian girl was telling everyone that she was from Adelaide in South Australia. I was trying to listen when the Israeli girl next to me leaned in and whispered 'Adelaide is so boring.' and then screwed her face into a look of absolute disgust. 'Would you like me to tell her that?' I said motioning to the Australian. She just rolled her eyes and shot me a look that I'm still trying to recover from.
We took it slow in the morning a visited the local monastery where they have an everlasting flame. It looked more like a little pilot light but the setting was serine, sort of like a Japanese garden, and it was nice not to be walking with a purpose.
In the afternoon we struck a small crisis. We had planned to walk to Kagbeni and spend the night there. Travis and Thea took the lead and before long were well ahead of Ebbe, Ross and myself. They were sharp enough to spot the sign which took them the right way directly to Kagbeni but we missed it and ended up at Eklobhatti - a junction town on the riverbank 45 minutes past Kagbeni. It was an easy mistake to make as the landscape was desolated with little to hold the attention. We assumed the other two must of made the same mistake as us so we tried to guess what they would of done since they obviously didn't wait in Eklobhatti. We walked further south to the next town across the river in the gathering gloom but they weren't there. There wasn't much of anything there apart from some middle-aged men playing with bows and arrows. We quickly turned around and went back to the junction and decided to stay the night there at the Hilton Guesthouse, with Ebbe assuming that Travis and Thea would pass by early the next morning from Kagbeni.
The Hilton, like many other imitations around the world, ended up being a fine place to stay. We had the guesthouse to ourselves, the food was fantastic and we enjoyed a Tuborg beer with our very own Danish Viking. We also had electricity for the first time in many days so I took the chance to charge my camera and write some notes on the computer and the other two stayed up past 11pm with me. It was a nice relaxing evening.
Mustang Valley - very close to Tibet
Looking down on Kagbeni
DAY THIRTEEN - Eklobhatti (2,740m) to Marpha (2,670m)
As Ebbe predicted Thea and Travis walked by early in the morning. We spent some time explaining exactly what happened but basically it boiled down to the fact that we missed the sign and kept walking. Travis gave us the news that the US had began a campaign in Iraq but beyond that he didn't have many details.
The Annapurnas near Jomosom
Marpha
DAY FOURTEEN - REST DAY Marpha (2,670m)
Had breakfast, lunch and dinner. Went to bed well rested after playing Gin and eating apple crumble with hot custard.
Eat dessert first, life is uncertain
DAY FIFTEEN - Marpha (2,670m) to Ghasa (2,010m)
After the apple crumble we had for dessert last night we had to have the same again for breakfast to get us started. It was going to be a long day so we needed the extra sugar. The walk to Tukuche was uneventful, staying on the path most of the way but then we headed back into the flood plain to walk on the smooth stones once more past the next two towns - Khobang and Larjung. We crossed the river a few times before meeting back with the trail again just before we reached Kokhethanti, where we stopped for lunch after nearly four hours walking.
After lunch Ross and I peeled off from the others in Kalopani, hoping to find the cricket world cup final on television but we didn't have any luck. We met many helpful people, including one young man on a bicycle who was so intent on giving us a 'Namaste' with his hands in the prayer position that he almost fell off his bike. We carried on a little behind the others but it didn't take long for us to meet up again near the next town, Lete.
The path narrowed considerably as it hugged the slope high above the river below and we walked by pine trees and ferns all the way through Kaiku and finally to Ghasa where we pulled in for the night. We had walked for almost eight hours today, possibly because we all felt so rested after the rest day, but mainly because we were getting sick of the trail and we wanted out as soon as possible. We chose to stay at the National Guesthouse where the rooms were great but the food was very disappointing.
DAY SIXTEEN - Ghasa (2,010m) to Tatopani (1,190m)
Early in the morning I had one of those rare moments of severe déjà vu. A few minutes after setting off in the morning I saw a familiar face walking towards our group. It was Kim, a Canadian woman I had met in the Strawberry Milkshake bar in Maymyo, Burma about two months ago. We did the 'What a small world it is' routine and chatted for a little while but we had to press on.
Later that morning we met more familiar faces but these ones were from days earlier, not months. We joined up with the Australian girl again and her friends from Ireland and Germany. They had read that the best chocolate cake on the trail could be found at Dana near a waterfall, a few hours away so together we walked with a purpose and the promise of good food. We found Dana, the waterfall and the cake and all of us left with chocolate icing in the corner of our mouths. It was delicious.
Getting to Tatopani was slow going because we ran across many mule trains coming the other way. Some of them lasted 15 minutes and during that time we were pinned to the side of the trail as they ambled by with their massive cargo strapped to their sides. It's difficult to make much forward progress through a mule train, especially when the path is narrow and one side drops off steeply towards the river.
It was late in the afternoon by the time we reached Tatopani and it didn't take long for all of us to migrate down to the Hot Pools beside the river where we spent the best part of the next four hours drinking and eating popcorn. It was nice to soak away the aches and pains and with tonight being Ross's last night with us there was a celebratory atmosphere about the evening. He was heading to the Annapurna Base Camp (ABC) with the Australian, Irish, German group while the rest of us were taking the quickest route back to Pokhara.
One of the many mule trains
Some greenery after many days of barren landscape
DAY SEVENTEEN - Tatopani (1,190m) to Beni (830m)
Ross left early and turned off towards ABC while Travis, Thea, Ebbe and I made our way slowly down the valley towards Beni. It was a long slow walk and it times it seemed that Beni never got any closer. We walked for over eight hours before Ebbe and I stumbled into the Yeti Guesthouse in Beni at 5:56pm. Within minutes Ebbe had the Tuborg flowing while we waiting for Travis and Thea who arrived a half hour later.
The walking was over. From here the only way back to Pokhara was a bus so tonight we tried to celebrate but it had been a very tough day and we were all tired - mainly from the days walk but also from a big night in Tatopani. We wound down with another bland meal, some more Tuborg and a game of cards.
Ebbe & I at Yeti Guesthouse
DAY EIGHTEEN - Beni (830m) to Pokhara (820m)
Ebbe woke up with food poisoning from the dodgy chicken dish he ate at dinner last night. He couldn't get out of bed and for the rest of us it meant we had to wait. Wait to see if he would get any better as we passed the time playing cards and walking around the grim town of Beni. Eventually we forced Ebbe out of bed and down to the bus station by the afternoon despite the fact that he really should have stayed in bed all day. The bus ride was bumpy and not particularly comfortable but he toughed it out and by 6pm we were back in Pokhara, back in my hotel, back to a hot shower, and clean underwear.
It was a fabulous walk. Over 250km in 18 days, up to and over a pass 5,400m above sea level staying in some charming little villages with breathtaking views of the Annapurna Mountains. I'm glad I did it.
Saturday, March 8, 2003
The Mountain Kingdom
THE MOUNTAIN KINGDOM
I met a familiar face at the bus station in Varanasi - it was Ross, the Australian guy I shared a taxi with in Calcutta to Howrah Station. I knew he was going to Nepal and we had exchanged e-mail addresses but not yet written to each other. Now we didn't need to. We both wanted to walk the Annapurna track near Pokhara so we decided early on that we should do it together, not just because it's safer and probably more fun than doing it on your own but because we both shared a passion for cricket and planned the trip so that we could watch as much of it as possible.
The bus from Varanasi to the Nepali border took about eight hours and as expected the Nepali border crossing was quick and painless, even though we had to get our visas at the border. We were put up in a dorm room at the Nepal Guesthouse about 200m from the border and early the next morning the trip continued with another nine-hour journey through to Pokhara. To imagine Pokhara think quiet, lakeside town with the Himalayan mountain range as a backdrop. It's beautiful and very peaceful. Our accommodation in Pokhara was at a place called Motherland for RS75 - a typical dinner with drinks would cost twice that.
I met a familiar face at the bus station in Varanasi - it was Ross, the Australian guy I shared a taxi with in Calcutta to Howrah Station. I knew he was going to Nepal and we had exchanged e-mail addresses but not yet written to each other. Now we didn't need to. We both wanted to walk the Annapurna track near Pokhara so we decided early on that we should do it together, not just because it's safer and probably more fun than doing it on your own but because we both shared a passion for cricket and planned the trip so that we could watch as much of it as possible.
The bus from Varanasi to the Nepali border took about eight hours and as expected the Nepali border crossing was quick and painless, even though we had to get our visas at the border. We were put up in a dorm room at the Nepal Guesthouse about 200m from the border and early the next morning the trip continued with another nine-hour journey through to Pokhara. To imagine Pokhara think quiet, lakeside town with the Himalayan mountain range as a backdrop. It's beautiful and very peaceful. Our accommodation in Pokhara was at a place called Motherland for RS75 - a typical dinner with drinks would cost twice that.
JIMMY WOOD
You meet some very strange people when you travel and Jimmy Wood was no exception. Ross and I had gone out for dinner one evening and we found Jimmy sitting on his own in a prime location at one of the many restaurants on the main street. He offered us his table, explaining that he was about to leave anyway but we started talking about cricket and found that although Jimmy is Canadian, he's a big cricket fan and a big sports fan in general. He was 57 years old, wore a massive beard, easily six inches long and was very tall. After a while a few of Jimmy's seemingly far fetched stories started coming out. He had a massive beard because he had just spent 122 days walking from the Himalayas in Kashmir to Nepal but he claimed he had just given it a trim. He was a big sports fan because in his prime he was an NFL wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns, then a centre fielder for the New York Yankees, although he was to downplay his abilities and his overall success in both codes. Now, in his mid-fifties he's ranked in the top 100 players in Canadian tennis and hold ambitions of marrying Serena Williams. Since his retirement from professional sports in the mid-seventies he's been spending much of his time in the Himalayas researching the snow leopard and the blue sheep and living the simple life in the mountains. He gave us some good advice on what to expect when walking the Annapurna circuit and suggested a couple of side trips that might be worth the effort. He's been wandering around these parts for the past 25 years so we paid attention carefully.
Tomorrow Ross and I start off on our walk around the Annapurna Mountains and up to the base camp - a walk that should take us three weeks, weather permitting.
Tuesday, March 4, 2003
Varanasi to Sunauli, India
CRICKET
The Cricket World Cup is being played in South Africa right now and India is doing very well. Cricket is massive in India and I feel like I can confidently speak with the locals about the latest matches and India's hopes of lifting the title. In Burma I was concerned that my English was getting worse. Often when talking to people with a rudimentary knowledge of English John or I would talk child-like English and refrain from using complicated words and often missed out unnecessary words altogether; "I am New Zealand man", "You are well?", "How long train Hsipaw?". Occasionally we would talk to each other using simplified English before realising what we were doing. But India is different because I am fluent in the language of cricket and everybody loves to talk about it. The Indian players are revered as demigods and appear in numerous television commercials and city billboards. Cricket is big business here and much is expected of the Indian team each time they play. Along the Ghats in Varanasi scores of children play cricket throughout the day, fetching the ball out of the Ganges each time it gets hit into it. In the evening men play more organised games, often for money, always with a lot of passion.
I spent three days in Varanasi with Beppe wandering along the ghats and through the many alleyways. I got more accustomed to seeing burning bodies beside the river, although the ones that were not shrouded were always more gruesome to watch. I got more accustomed but I didn't ever feel very comfortable. I played a few games of cricket with kids on the wide ghat steps but each time I hit the ball it seemed to go in the river. By day we were offered boat rides, by night it was hash, always good hash. When I quipped that I only smoked bad hash one mans eyes lit up and he beamed a huge smile, "Oh, I have bad hash too sir. How much would you like?"
After Varanasi I had a few options but each would take me in vastly different directions. I could head south towards Goa and spend some time on the beach. I could go west towards Delhi and spend a month in Rajasthan. I had come from the east and decided to put off Bangladesh until later but I was pulled to the north, to Nepal, the mountain kingdom.
I bought a bus ticket to Sunauli for Rs250, and then another to Pokhara in Nepal for Rs200.
The Cricket World Cup is being played in South Africa right now and India is doing very well. Cricket is massive in India and I feel like I can confidently speak with the locals about the latest matches and India's hopes of lifting the title. In Burma I was concerned that my English was getting worse. Often when talking to people with a rudimentary knowledge of English John or I would talk child-like English and refrain from using complicated words and often missed out unnecessary words altogether; "I am New Zealand man", "You are well?", "How long train Hsipaw?". Occasionally we would talk to each other using simplified English before realising what we were doing. But India is different because I am fluent in the language of cricket and everybody loves to talk about it. The Indian players are revered as demigods and appear in numerous television commercials and city billboards. Cricket is big business here and much is expected of the Indian team each time they play. Along the Ghats in Varanasi scores of children play cricket throughout the day, fetching the ball out of the Ganges each time it gets hit into it. In the evening men play more organised games, often for money, always with a lot of passion.
I spent three days in Varanasi with Beppe wandering along the ghats and through the many alleyways. I got more accustomed to seeing burning bodies beside the river, although the ones that were not shrouded were always more gruesome to watch. I got more accustomed but I didn't ever feel very comfortable. I played a few games of cricket with kids on the wide ghat steps but each time I hit the ball it seemed to go in the river. By day we were offered boat rides, by night it was hash, always good hash. When I quipped that I only smoked bad hash one mans eyes lit up and he beamed a huge smile, "Oh, I have bad hash too sir. How much would you like?"
After Varanasi I had a few options but each would take me in vastly different directions. I could head south towards Goa and spend some time on the beach. I could go west towards Delhi and spend a month in Rajasthan. I had come from the east and decided to put off Bangladesh until later but I was pulled to the north, to Nepal, the mountain kingdom.
I bought a bus ticket to Sunauli for Rs250, and then another to Pokhara in Nepal for Rs200.
Saturday, March 1, 2003
My Life as a Train
MY LIFE AS A TRAIN
Before leaving Calcutta I stocked up on some essentials - razor blades, biscuits endorsed by Sachin Tendulkar and 110m of toilet paper called the 'high hurdle' roll - and made for Howrah train station with an Australian bloke heading the same way. This was going to be my first experience on an Indian train so I was a little apprehensive. The Amritsar Mail train takes about 40 hours to reach Amritsar in the northwest but I was getting off at Varanasi, about 15 hours from Calcutta. Just as well because I worked out that so far on this trip I have spent 288 hours on trains, or twelve full days watching the world change slowly outside the window. Some trains have been better than others. As far as sleepers go this one wasn't too bad but I was awoken at 5:30am to find four people sitting on my bed reading the newspaper and drinking tea. They weren't there when I went to sleep the previous night and must of got on at the last stop. "Where the hell did you all come from?" I said. They just laughed and offered me some tea so I accepted and asked them if they knew the cricket result from the night before. They didn't.
I arranged to meet Beppe in Varanasi so trusting his directions I caught a rickshaw to the Assi Ghat and looked around for the temple overlooking the Ghat. There I was to find a Pizzeria and ask the manager for a message left by an Italian man in a dodgy cap. Sure enough I found the Pizzeria and the manager produced a note from Beppe with the name of his guesthouse and directions on how to get there. When I say directions the note said, "It's not far from here, just ask some people." I found the Anami Guesthouse relatively quickly (it was literally right next door) but Beppe himself was entirely unwell and did not want to get out of bed. Beppe had done some good work and the room only cost us Rs125 each. He didn't look his usual chipper self but after a couple of days in bed he was back to normal again.
Beppe & I beside the Ganges - Varanasi is only on one side of the river, the other side is deserted.
BED OF FLAMES
[This next bit is slightly disturbing. Reader discretion is advised]
I walked north from the guesthouse along the waterfront through different ghats and past numerous alleys leading back into the city. I wanted to get to one of the burning ghats to witness a public cremation but as with many things in this trip, what I saw was very different to what I expected. Or maybe it was that I wasn't prepared to see what I did and didn't know how to react.
I reached Harishchandra Ghat and noticed smoke coming from the riverbank. There were maybe twenty people milling around what looked like a very large pile of smoking wood, two people prodding the pile with large bamboo sticks, a few dogs hanging back a safe distance. Inside the woodpile I saw what was unmistakably a human body covered in a white shroud. Jutting out from the end was a pair of feet loosely covered with cloth. Within a few minutes the cloth around the feet burns away and the flesh can be seen clearly.
Closer to the ghat another man builds a bed of logs on which the next body is to be placed. He carefully places the logs so as to allow air circulation and easy access to the bottom so that the fire could be started. Beside the river two people gently lower a shrouded body into the Ganges and set it back on the riverbank. Prior to cremation each corpse is dipped in the Ganges and left to dry for a few minutes. The river is fetid with all kinds of rubbish, but it is the holy Ganges.
Further away another man tends to a smaller pile of burnt wood and ash. He probes it with a stick and pulls something aside. I can't make out what is it at first. He moves the logs around and tries to encourage the flames to lick up again. Then he places the thing back on the flames. It's a partially charred head and torso. No one is paying attention to this cremation anymore and the man is going about his business with the bamboo pole with scant regard to what is happening elsewhere. A cow is lying beside him and a few dogs look on with interest.
The first body is almost completely incinerated after twenty minutes but for the head and torso. Maybe this is common but it could be that the wind is coming from the north, which is the same way the head is pointing, taking the flames away towards the feet. There are no tears. There is very little in the way of ceremony, just a few sprinkles of river water every now and then and people look on, as you would watch a television show.
The body by the river is brought to the newly created woodpile, lifted from the bamboo stretcher and placed on top. The shroud is thin and I can tell that this is the body of a young man; he still wears his gold watch. They pour some kind of liquid over the shroud and sprinkle a fine brown powder that acts as an accelerant. Half a dozen more logs are placed on the corpse. A man lights some straw with hot embers from a prior cremation and walks around the body three or four times before pushing the straw underneath the logs. Slowly the flames begin to build around the corpse but I can't watch this one. The shroud burns away too quickly, well before the skin is even charred. It's awful. It stinks.
The smaller pile burns down and thankfully the head and torso are gone. But the dogs hang around and begin to sniff around the smoldering remains. Within the hour the first body is completely incinerated too. A man starts to build another bed of logs in its place. More shrouded bodies are being dipped in the river.
Before leaving Calcutta I stocked up on some essentials - razor blades, biscuits endorsed by Sachin Tendulkar and 110m of toilet paper called the 'high hurdle' roll - and made for Howrah train station with an Australian bloke heading the same way. This was going to be my first experience on an Indian train so I was a little apprehensive. The Amritsar Mail train takes about 40 hours to reach Amritsar in the northwest but I was getting off at Varanasi, about 15 hours from Calcutta. Just as well because I worked out that so far on this trip I have spent 288 hours on trains, or twelve full days watching the world change slowly outside the window. Some trains have been better than others. As far as sleepers go this one wasn't too bad but I was awoken at 5:30am to find four people sitting on my bed reading the newspaper and drinking tea. They weren't there when I went to sleep the previous night and must of got on at the last stop. "Where the hell did you all come from?" I said. They just laughed and offered me some tea so I accepted and asked them if they knew the cricket result from the night before. They didn't.
I arranged to meet Beppe in Varanasi so trusting his directions I caught a rickshaw to the Assi Ghat and looked around for the temple overlooking the Ghat. There I was to find a Pizzeria and ask the manager for a message left by an Italian man in a dodgy cap. Sure enough I found the Pizzeria and the manager produced a note from Beppe with the name of his guesthouse and directions on how to get there. When I say directions the note said, "It's not far from here, just ask some people." I found the Anami Guesthouse relatively quickly (it was literally right next door) but Beppe himself was entirely unwell and did not want to get out of bed. Beppe had done some good work and the room only cost us Rs125 each. He didn't look his usual chipper self but after a couple of days in bed he was back to normal again.
Varanasi (Banares) on the shores of the Ganges
BED OF FLAMES
[This next bit is slightly disturbing. Reader discretion is advised]
I walked north from the guesthouse along the waterfront through different ghats and past numerous alleys leading back into the city. I wanted to get to one of the burning ghats to witness a public cremation but as with many things in this trip, what I saw was very different to what I expected. Or maybe it was that I wasn't prepared to see what I did and didn't know how to react.
I reached Harishchandra Ghat and noticed smoke coming from the riverbank. There were maybe twenty people milling around what looked like a very large pile of smoking wood, two people prodding the pile with large bamboo sticks, a few dogs hanging back a safe distance. Inside the woodpile I saw what was unmistakably a human body covered in a white shroud. Jutting out from the end was a pair of feet loosely covered with cloth. Within a few minutes the cloth around the feet burns away and the flesh can be seen clearly.
Closer to the ghat another man builds a bed of logs on which the next body is to be placed. He carefully places the logs so as to allow air circulation and easy access to the bottom so that the fire could be started. Beside the river two people gently lower a shrouded body into the Ganges and set it back on the riverbank. Prior to cremation each corpse is dipped in the Ganges and left to dry for a few minutes. The river is fetid with all kinds of rubbish, but it is the holy Ganges.
Further away another man tends to a smaller pile of burnt wood and ash. He probes it with a stick and pulls something aside. I can't make out what is it at first. He moves the logs around and tries to encourage the flames to lick up again. Then he places the thing back on the flames. It's a partially charred head and torso. No one is paying attention to this cremation anymore and the man is going about his business with the bamboo pole with scant regard to what is happening elsewhere. A cow is lying beside him and a few dogs look on with interest.
One of the cremations beside the Ganges
The first body is almost completely incinerated after twenty minutes but for the head and torso. Maybe this is common but it could be that the wind is coming from the north, which is the same way the head is pointing, taking the flames away towards the feet. There are no tears. There is very little in the way of ceremony, just a few sprinkles of river water every now and then and people look on, as you would watch a television show.
The body by the river is brought to the newly created woodpile, lifted from the bamboo stretcher and placed on top. The shroud is thin and I can tell that this is the body of a young man; he still wears his gold watch. They pour some kind of liquid over the shroud and sprinkle a fine brown powder that acts as an accelerant. Half a dozen more logs are placed on the corpse. A man lights some straw with hot embers from a prior cremation and walks around the body three or four times before pushing the straw underneath the logs. Slowly the flames begin to build around the corpse but I can't watch this one. The shroud burns away too quickly, well before the skin is even charred. It's awful. It stinks.
The smaller pile burns down and thankfully the head and torso are gone. But the dogs hang around and begin to sniff around the smoldering remains. Within the hour the first body is completely incinerated too. A man starts to build another bed of logs in its place. More shrouded bodies are being dipped in the river.
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