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Share it now!We’re still climbing and crawling through the Himalayas, but for our 10th and last day, we travel by bus, not by foot. First Kesha was playing then Taylor Swift. Eminem was on for a few tracks too, but now classic Nepalese music is playing on the bus stereo as we wind, bump after curve after cliff, through the mountains. Winding around these parts of town, especially when you’re coming around a blind edge, honks blare to signal someone possibly coming from the other direction that you’re there too. Sometimes, when there is that other jeep or bus, you have to share a “lane” the width of a queen size mattress. A few times today, we sat parallel with another bus, during which the drivers seemed to have been yelling to each other, “okay, you scoot an inch”, “got it, now your turn”, then repeat, and all the while I could just pull the hair of the next-door passengers. We also passed waterfalls that had just a few planks built over their pool for us to cross. In those instances too, I felt like I could have reached my hand out to touch the water. Things along the road
Share it now!Whiter than the clouds they dare to puncture, the snow-capped mountains of the Himalayas stand intimidating bold and seemingly impenetrable. Today, however, a soft and sun-blessed exhale of wind breaches such strength and sends a parade of warmth through Nepal’s sincerely antiquated Manang village. We are here to rest from the five days we’ve already spent hiking and to regain fuel for the four days to come that will be spent in the same gruelingly magnificent manner. I’m unashamed to admit this, hiking has been quite demanding on my novice bones. Squatting over a hole in the ground and showering with water that seems to pour straight from the snows’ melt has been too. But the unimaginable views, even through cracks in wooden-framed and shaky outhouses, have magically eased my overworked, shivering and now firmly in spring-break-shape body, and I feel warmed by all the overwhelming beauty these mountains have revealed. Starting from the top, where needle-point peaks and tight-rope-thin ridges cut through a never bluer sky, the glow of the sun hitting the stark white is radiating, to say the least. Just further down, when the thick, uninterrupted snow begins to taper and the deeper shade of
Share it now!“Here comes the bus!” Kumar said, as a pack of mules rounded the corner. Two days into our trek, we were sitting under a sheltered, family-style table waiting for the rain to pass, and these mules looked like wet puppies, trudging through the mess. We had stopped for lunch a convenient 20 minutes before the pour came, joining a few others- a Slovenian woman and her two porter/guides- at the tea-house restaurant. All three were charming and energetic, a perfect trio with whom to pass the raining time. Kumar and Gunnis were the names of the two Nepalese- Kumar speaking almost fluent English, and Gunnis not so far behind. The restaurant owner, who also joined our half-time party, had a comprehensive grasop on our language as well, being able to explain the housing loan market (16-22% interest) and the price of a college education (12 bucks a month for tuition, room and board in Nepal’s capitol city, Kathmandu). Wow on both parenthesis. After Greg and I finished our fried noodles and chicken curry, respectively, Kumar pulled out a volleyball he’d packed for the trek. We played a semi-game at the table, tipping the ball from one upright-sitting player
Share it now!We’ve been in Nepal, mostly just hanging around a small touristy town called Pokhora. Quietly set beside a soft green lake, the town has given us room for recuperation after an energy-stripping tour of northern India. We especially needed to the recoup because our next plans take us trekking through the Himalayas for the next 10-12 days. We were originally thinking of hiking to Everest base camp, but have come to find the Annapurna circuit, a route that encompasses the world’s deadliest mountain (50% death rate), is much more extensive in its scenery and terrain coverage, and is highly known- especially in the mountain man realm- as the greatest trek of the world. So Greg will just save Everest base camp for a stop on his way to the actual summit, and I will just read a picture book on it… One day in this lakeside town, Pokhora, we rented bicycles and road out of town towards a waterfall. I got a silly cruiser-type bike with a basket on the front and Greg got whatever form of a mountain bike the street renter had. Mine fared fine, but Greg’s first bike gave out on him halfway to our
Share it now!Under our guesthouse lobby’s refuge, I am guarded from a Nepalese rain shower. Habitually striking in the afternoon, the rain today has hardened to hail and leaves a gushing mote in place of the encompassing street. Thankfully, the crashing lightning held its temper until a few hours after we’d descended from being 10,000 feet in the plain air. Before this morning, I’d never been paragliding, or done anything of the sky-sport sort, so my expectations had no direction as we wound up a crunchy dirt road. Opposite to my experience, adventurous-since-birth Greg had already been skydiving, hand-gliding, taken pilots lessons and flown an acrobatic plane. He pretty clearly knew what was in store as I blindly prepared for an exhilarating first-time rush. Twenty minutes up the mountain, we arrived at the launch site. My Russian tandem guide, Victor, strapped me into the seemingly measly harness while reciting seemingly simple instructions. “Everything will be okay,” he also added. “You’re with me.” Nice to meet you, Vic, I think I trust that. I actually did surprised myself at how little my nerves were acting up as I ran off the side of a Himalayan mountain- my fate in the hands