The AST Part IV: MBC to Jinhu (By: Triston)

MBC to Bamboo J and I woke up before sunrise on June 16th. I actually didn’t really sleep, as I was too hot wearing my fleeces (as Justyna demanded I do) and when I tore them off in a fit or rage…. I became cold….. The altitude was also getting to me a bit and I kept having the same dream that we were in a cave. Justyna, with the patience of Job, kept reassuring me over and over with her practical-sounding British accent: “No darling….you we are not in a cave.” I though that the hike from the Manchupuchre Base Camp to the Annapurna Base Camp would be easy, as we left our bags at MBC in our room which we hadn’t checked out of yet. The idea was to hike out to see the sanctuary, hike back, have breakfast at MBC, and then descend. In fact, the hike up to see the sanctuary—even without a bag—may have been the hardest. At 4300 meters, I was really struggling to get air in my lungs and I had to keep asking J to stop so I could catch my breath every twenty steps or so. I felt like I was having an aneurism too, my head was pounding and I felt lightheaded. I told Justyna what I was experiencing, and she was concerned, but she ruled out diabetes and heart attack (my first two hunches). Her final diagnosis was simply altitude sickness…. As we slowly climbed, we gradually saw the white-capped Himalayas rising around us like a crown of ice circumscribing a lush green interior full of flowers and mountain ferns glistening in the pre-dawn haze. We knew we had reached the finale when we were completely surrounded by the daunting 8000 meter peaks which were 4000 meters above us on all sides. Both J and I got emotional and our lives flashed before our eyes as the sun rose over Fishtail peak the east. With tears in our eyes we stood in silence and took in the full meaning of the insane panorama we were witnessing. After a religious 30 minutes or so, J and I congratulated each other and then headed back to MBC for a breakfast or veggie omelets and chapatti (Nepali flat bread). JJ’s Not-So-Decent Descent After loading up on our food, we reluctantly packed our backpacks and loaded them onto our backs…mmmm…that old familiar feeling, like piggybacking a sweaty hobbit. The reason I say this is because I sweat so much every day that the entire contents of my massive backpack were completely soaked and had to be air-dried every night! I was extremely happy at this point, as the altitude issues were sure to dissipate the further down we got and the thought of hiking downhill for three days sounded so much better than hiking uphill for four as we had just done. We quickly ran in to some issues though. While traversing the small glacier below MBC, Justyna fell and scratched her “bum and leg.” I must say I was scared when I saw her go down because if she had kept sliding, she’d have ended up in the most rapid-strewn part of the rushing river below. After that, there was a slight freak-out session when we came to the wobbly bridge featured in the video below. Justyna’s legs were so tired from going downhill that she was afraid she’d fall off the thing. We tried looking for a place to cross on the many boulders in the river, but the space between them was just to much to safely cross. After about 30 minutes of coaxing, Justyna valiantly faced her fears and crossed the rickety old bastard of a bridge. After she was safe, she unleashed the fury of hell on me for trying to video tape her in her darkest hour on the mountain. Hence, there is no footage documenting this event. After a days hiking we reached Bamboo, a set of lodges tucked into the side of the mountains at a place where the river was unusually calm. I was fine, but Justyna’s legs were shot. Her knees get jarred when going downhill and her shoes did not have enough grip to handle the gravelly stretches of the steep path. At Bamboo, we met a nice Australian couple and we also happened to run into Shin, a Japanese guy who owns a restaurant in Cambodia—we had crossed paths with Shin numerous times and he took a liking to us because we could talk to him in Japanese. In the room next to us, there were two other Japanese guys who were acting kind of squirrelly and giggling in the mess hall (more on that later). We chatted with the Aussies, who were about 55 years old and had a Nepali guide with them. They were taking it really slow on the way up and J and I kind of freaked them out with our stories about crossing the “glacier” and the “shaky bridge.” The Aussie guy and I commiserated about not being able to get an ice-cold beer and we tried to figure out a contraption that could lower the beer cans into the ice-cold river and then retrieve them upon request. We were getting tired so we left the mess-hall and headed to bed. Just as we had turned off the light, the familiar smell of marijuana smoke trickled into the room. The walls were pieces of plywood, loosely hung, that did not fully span the room so there were massive cracks through which anything (including ganja smoke) could pass. After smelling the herbaceous cloud, we soon heard impish laughter and uncontrolled coughing from the next door. I guess that explains why those two Japanese guys were acting so weird. Bamboo to Jinhu I woke up on my birthday in Bamboo to find that Justyna was already in the mess-hall. When I put my glasses on and made it out to join her, I was greeted by a “birthday apple pancake”. I had almost forgotten it was my birthday! J also had a present wrapped and everything: a Nepali cookbook. That day is hazy in my mind because I feel like it may actually have been the most exhausting. Expecting only downhill hiking, I was stunned to realize that I had forgotten Chomrong, the Gurung village on the hill where we had spent the night earlier. After 2500 upward steps (counting them was the only way to stay sane) and a call to Dad telling the world that we had made it back down, we were at the top. We had a delicious lunch of chapatti sandwiched with yak cheese and Tibetan momo dumplings and felt rejuvenated. After this, we headed down the steepest part of the journey, basically straight down a ridge to the village of Jinhu. On this stretch we ran into Shin again. He was sitting with a Gurung lady looking at pictures of Japanese travelers she had met during the 80’s. She was in the middle of threshing corn and had her threshing basket and the dried cornels laid out on her yard which was somehow carved into the impossibly steep ridge. This lady was a character. I asked her if she spoke Japanese and she listed every dirty word, private part, and sexual position in the Japanese dictionary. Shin’s glasses started to fog up as he was getting embarrassed by this very “un-Japanese” use of his mother tongue. After drinking a luke-warm sprite that she rustled out of her hut for us, we continued down to Jinhu where, tired and exhausted again, we decided to spend the night. Two girls from England were staying there two, so we chatted to them and went to bed early after a few birthday beers, luke-warm of course. Shin made it down later and ended up staying further down the ridge at the other end of the village.

(below) J Crosses the "worst Bridge Ever"


(below) J walking by the mighty Modi Khola River

The AST Part III: Chomrong to the Top (By Justyna)

Waking up in the morning at Chomrong with the first proper view of Annapurna I (8078m) and II (7938m) as well as the Nepali favorite Macchapucchare (a measly 6997m) , T and I almost broke the bed jumping up and down with glee like two little kids. a hearty trekkers breakfast, drew us on our way down the Chomrong Khola (endless staircase occupied by water buffalo performing their morning toilet routine). En route, we met schoolchildren on their way up to the local high school in Chomrong form the surrounding villages. I cannot believe that whole groups of kids as young as 4 every day trek over 2hours one way at times, to get to school, especially on the maddening staircase up to Chomrong (all 2440 steps or so)! glad I am not one of them. From the bottom of the valley, we needed to go up again to Sinuwa. this is where I think I was most annoyed about trekking in the region - the 'fake' villages. According to our maps and guide-books, you pass certain villages along the way and there are approximate timings in between. From Chomrong to Sinuwa, the time was about 2hours. T and I reached Sinuwa after 1h30 which we were so pleased about and continued onto what we thought the next village to be. Another arduous climb and 40 minutes later, we reach Sinuwa. confused? Well, sometimes en route some of the lodges call themselves something in Sinuwa, or Chomrong, or whatever village you are supposed to reach, in order to lull tourists into a false hope of resting / buying food at a designated place / staying the night. We were rather annoyed as this was about the third time it happened to us and you get very worried if what you have reached at the end of the day is the real deal or not. Anyway, our target today was a steep climb from 2330m, down to 2000m (Kuli) up again to Bamboo (2300m) and finally Dovan (2540m) just before we reached Dovan, we met some American chubbies, who put the fear of God into us (see conversation below):

(Male Chubby) - Hey dudes, Whass'up?
(T) - Nothing man, just on our way up to Dovan and then ABC tomorrow . You been?
(Male Chubby) - Hate to tell you this man, but you got a long way ahead to Dovan. At least another hour and a half And it is vertical at times. Really hard!
(Female Chubby) - Yeah, and there are glaciers you need to cross. He (pointing to male chubby) slipped and slid. You guys look like you have real heavy packs. It will be really hard.
(Justyna swallows hard)
(T) - Any avalanches?
(Male Chubby) - No man, but I tell ya, it is tough going. We almost did not make it. You still have a ways. Good luck man!
(Justyna and Triston shakily wave the chubbies goodbye)

10 minutes later as we have a little rest and prepare ourselves for the worse and at least another hour and a bit of climbing to reach our night time destination, we arrive at Dovan (no hard climb in site). Is this the real Dovan? Were we wickedly tricked by the chubbies? Or were they just real chubbies?

It was the real Dovan thankfully and we spent the night, again being the only guests, feasting on Triston's favourite Dal Bhat and my favorite, Yak Cheese chapatis. The two guys who ran the lodge were far more interested in their DVD player than us, but we still had a nice evening, playing poker, doing crosswords, and reading. Next morning, we set off early at 7am up towards Himalayan hotel (2840m). en route we met Diego, a southern Californian who was with us the day before our Trek registering at ACAP. He was however on his way down (for us day 4) putting us to shame (though looking at his incredibly chiseled rock-hard body, he obviously participates in the Sahara Desert marathon on a regular basis) who told us there was nothing to fear ahead, only the most spectacular scenery. He did say there was one wobbly bridge but we would be fine. A mountaineers handshake later, we continue our climb past the most gorgeous valley, full of the most amazing flora and fauna I think I had ever seen. We spent over an hour just taking pictures of flowers, trying to capture the most amazing birds including massive hummingbirds (too fast for us though). Apart from this we did reach the glacier that the chubbies were talking about (the end of an ice trail about 10metres across and if you trod carefully and not on the really steep bits, you were fine). We also reached the wobbly bridge, which I vowed never to cross again, as out of all the bamboo - log bridges en route, that one was really nasty. However, we finally reached Macchapucchare Base Camp 4130m, ran by an ex Gurka called Ram, which had the most disgusting rancid toilet ever. It is very difficult squatting to do your business when your thighs are screaming from the amount of exercise they have been getting at the best of times. Doing that in an environment which promotes projectile vomit, is really tough. So both T and I suppressed any toilet urges that night, and for the first time, really really cold, tried to sleep through a huge storm during the night, in a very cold room. I must say though that even in these conditions, I tried to remain civilized and forced Triston to take a hot water bucket wash with me before we went to bed. Splashing boiling water on our bodies, in a freezing room, and trying to wash our private parts, certainly brings two people even closer together! Today, MBC - tomorrow, the top of the world!



Justyna Crosses the "Glacier"

The Annapurna Sanctuary Trek Part II (By: Justyna)

Day 2: New Bridge to Chomrong

After the incredibly hellish, taxing, gruelling first day of almost 9 hours of trekking, we both got up with renewed fervor in New Bridge, otherwise known as the 'Rat-hole' (due to the rat droppings everywhere). This morning we discovered a wonderful delicacy called Gurung Bread. The ethnic group of people that predominantly lived in the Annapurna region in the mountains, are the Gurung people. The main gurung hub is in Gandruk (which we were supposed to be going towards on our first day, but got lost instead). They farm corn, rice, vegetables and produce lots of dairy products; have their own dialect and are often recognised by the distinctive clothes they wear, especially this wrap-around shawl which forms two pouches and is used to carry things on their backs. Gurung bread makes for a very tasty breakfast, served with honey and is a cross between a very flat doughnut and 'elephant ear'. Yummy!

We set off at about 7 up towards Jinhu and Chomrong. It was another incredibly hot and humid day, but we had learnt our lesson from yesterday, to take it easy, take small sips of water rather than massive gulps (Triston) and also not to take out frustrations on each other (Justyna). The road up to Jinhu was through woodland, rice paddies and then down into a valley, on some very steep stone stairs. We met again lots of children along the way who would be very cute and ask for sweets or just plain simple rupees (heavily discouraged by us) and some other interesting locals who offered us everything from photos with them (for money) to selling us some ganja (widely practiced as medicine in these here parts). Although we flatly refused the medicine, Triston did on occasion agree to take photos for a small donation, saying it was at least better than plain begging. From Jihnu (1750m) we took the most impossibly steep, stone staircase up to Chomrong, which is the second biggest Gurung hub at 2300m. During this ominous climb, Triston had varying symptoms of heart-attacks, brain aneurysms, asthma, heat and sun stroke, and by the end of it was again convinced he is suffering from diabetes. I stayed pretty quiet as I knew full well how I would cope in a few days time when we would be going down the same route, which I always find incredibly hard.
Chomrong could not come soon enough for us and we were elated and then perplexed to reach the top, only to find the ACAP office permanently closed. It was at Chomrong that we were supposed to have our last check-in for safety, and enquire about the route ahead. To be honest, I really was not worried as although we were now entering 'avalanche territory', I knew this was not avalanche season (no snow apart from the very peaks) but Triston as ever the gentleman, was massively concerned for our safety and still asked every passer by about the dangers of avalanches. We decided to stop at one of the three lodges we saw at the top of Chomrong for lunch and here discovered a new gurung delicacy - garlic soup! this little bowl-full of heaven is sipped by locals to help thin the blood and prevent any types of altitude sickness.

Although we only did about 5 hours of trekking, we still felt like we accomplished a huge amount and decided we would stay the night in chomrong. T felt a bit dead after the arduous climb, so as he was recovering I went a bit further down the chomrong valley to see other potential guest-houses (as the three at the very top looked like they were close cousins of the 'rat-hole'). I was very happy I did climb quite a bit further down as we realised that Chomrong is actually quite big and has a fresh bakery, doctors, the local high school and many lovely lodges to choose from. One such lodge was Chomrong Cottage, run by a lovely lady called Sushila and her husband, which was clean, had a hot shower, a sit down toilet (though still with the nasty basket for the 'used loo paper') and delicious food. Sushila even lent us soap to pound some of our dirty clothes for a wash, and even dried them in the kitchen for us overnight during the rain storm. this was much more civilised and after a lovely dinner of garlic soup and a tomato and yak-cheese chapati, we both snuggled into our sleeping bags on a double bed, ready to face the Annapuna massif tomorrow.

(below) The Many Terraced Fileds along the way.


(below) The Adventurers with Sushila in Chomrong

The Annapurna Sanctuary Trek Part I (By: Triston)

J and I were naively gungho about hiking up around the Himalayas. What we didn't realize was that what we were about to do would push us to the limits of our physical strength and sanity! OK, so it wasn't exactly that tough, but we were exhausted on a daily basis and occasionally terrified (see video of Justyna crossing a river on a very shaky bridge above) The first day we woke up bright and early and got in the taxi which we had ordered the night before. Expecting a nice, relaxing drive up to the start of the trek from Pokhara, we were mortified to learn that the guy who runs the Hotel we were staying at was coming with us and was going to use the deserted, winding, extremely dangerous mountain roads leading up to the starting point as his "driving lesson." Suraj (the hotel guy) was a very very bad driver and he did not reassure us when he told us (between stalling and jerking the car on the edges of cliffs) that he was "really really bad at turning!" After the two-hour terror ride, the real taxi driver finally took over and we ended up in Nayapul, at the bottom of the path up to the "Sanctuary." We had a little bight to eat with Suraj and the taxi driver and then headed out on the hot, dusty path.

After the first hour, we realized we had started hiking up the wrong valley (a detour that would've have added five hours to our trek) and had to return all the way down to the starting point again! After that mishap, we were constantly asking the men and women we passed (men and women who were usually carrying ridiculously heavy loads of corrugated steal and wood up and down the mountain) if we were going the right way, as the numerous meandering paths were not marked. There were also numerous "fake towns" which were designed to make you think you had reached your destination for the day, only to find that the real town you were looking for was much higher up the mountain! Well, we got lost again, accidentally choosing a path that followed the river instead of going straight up the mountain (duh....). So we had to make a choice: completely change our plan and follow the river to this mysterious town known as "New Bridge" or backtrack and go straight up the mountain to the mythical (and Tolkien-esque) "Gandruk" high above in the clouds. We chose to stay the course and hopefully hit "New Bridge" before dark.

At first the day was pleasant. We saw local village boys attacking monkeys with rocks. We had to step to the side of the path as numerous water buffalo and mules made their way down the path at full speed carrying goods from the upper villages. We saw gorgeous waterfalls and terraced fields of corn and rice that seemed to defy gravity. But then the sun started getting low in the sky and, after 8 hours of hiking up painfully steep mountains, we started to become exhausted and panicky. It got to the point where every time we took a step we yelped in pain. I have never dropped the "f-bomb" more times in my life. Every time we made it up another ridge, it seemed there was another, even steeper ridge to climb. "F--k!!!" Just when we were about to give up, I spotted a tiny bridge over the river which seemed like about a mile below us. Could this be "New Bridge"?.... After 30 minutes more hiking, we found that our dreams had come true. That night, as we snuggled in to our bed in New Bridge village, were so thankful to be safe and with shelter that we ignored the fact that the sheets were riddled with rat droppings and the floor and walls looked like a barn. We were safe, and we had learned some valuable trekking lessons about time management and map-reading. We were on the beginning of a new and amazing adventure.


(below) T on a typical trail near the bottom

Bartering and Barfing Amongst Buddhist Temples (By Justyna)

Well, as you all know I am the one who got ill pretty much straight
away - 4 days into our trip. Though I am fine now, it was not pleasant
so thought would share my first two days in Kathmandu from my point of
view.

Started to feel very queasy in the middle of the night and ran to the
loo where the inevitable projectile vomiting occurred. Triston, being
the gallant gentleman that he is, rushed to my side to hold back my
hair, pass me tissues and rub my back (of course this has nothing to
do with the fact that I have thus cared for him on many an occasion).
Anyway, in the morning I thought I was better, so we went out for a
walk in Kathmandu to do some shopping. Saw an amazing temple, the
biggest / smallest traffic jam ever and made our way to Durbar
Square, which is where the 'Living Goddess' lives. In the middle as
with any good square worth its name, were some sellers, selling their
wares.

the usual sob stories come out - 'please ma’am, you are my first
customer in 3 weeks, bring me good luck, buy something' or 'I give you
best price, it is off season, no business, you tell me your price, I
tell you my price. Almost free'. As I was at this point not beginning
to feel so good, I was unfortunately accosted by one of these sellers,
and as I was on one hand keeping an eye on T (who was at the next
seller, talking excitedly about something he had found) this lady
gave me one of her sob stories and I was very weak and caved in buying
a 'singing-prayer bowl' from Tibet. Then this other guy came up and
desperately tried to get me to change his 'loonies' for him (3 Canadian
dollars) I was polite, then less polite, and then I knew I was going
to vomit so pushed him aside and ran across the road so as not to
projectile vomit all over the square, but in a corner of a building
instead. Unfortunately I happened to be vomiting on a sacred temple,
but never mind. At this point, 'loonie man' was bothering Triston, who
also pushed him away (although at this point 'loonie man' was telling
T his lady was very sick and needed help) so both of them rushed over
to me, again T being the gallant lad, 'loonie man' telling us that the
tourist toilet is just there, yet still asking us to change his
dollars. I stopped barfing and shakily thought it would be it fine as
I felt very empty so we both rushed off as I had desecrated a holy
place.

sitting, recovering in a restaurant (I didn’t eat) T then excitedly
told me about his amazing finds from his lady. An amazing smooth oval
rock which was cracked open to reveal a trilobite inside! And a heard
of elephants carved into real whale bone! All for just #### rupees!
Well within a second of inspecting his amazing finds we both realized
T had been had and his smooth rock was a mold and his heard of
elephants - resin. So we were both 'lighter' by the end of the
afternoon.

Although I had been quite ill, the wrath of dysentery did not escape
Triston, who kept on having to go to the loo for other purposes, where
I would hear from him "Baby, I got problems!" (so?! What’s new?) "No,
but you don’t understand, I have REAL problems!", which made me feel a
little better especially as later on that night, as we were bartering
(far more successfully) for some Mandalas, I thought I too had
PROBLEMS and needed a toilet really fast. We got very quickly to the
restaurant where we were going to have dinner, only to find that there
was no electricity, no working toilet, and the one they directed me
to, had no loo paper. Not a happy Justyna. thankfully, I did not have
PROBLEMS and after a good nights sleep we left for Pokhara on a bumpy
bus ride from Kathmandu at 7 in the morning. And I feel very ready to
climb to Annapurna Base Camp!

K-K-K-Kathmandu (By Triston)

Kathmandu is a breath of fresh clean air compared to Delhi, although I personally enjoy the rough-and-tumble, crazy atmosphere of India. Kathmandu is about 10 degrees cooler and it is also full of people who are much more courteous than our neighbors in Paharganj. There are hundreds of brilliantly-colored shops selling statues of Hindu gods and Nepalese furniture. There are also shrines to Ganesh, Vishnu, Buddha, etc. around every corner and the market women sit on the sides of them and sell fresh greens and mangos in their fluorescent saris. The whole scene is pervaded by wafting clouds of incense which smells like a sandalwood /jasmine match made in heaven. Justyna is sick as a dog back at the hotel right now, but we are hoping for a recovery by tomorrow when we are scheduled to head to Pokara to start our trek up to the Anapurna base camp. Today we will be checking trek prices and loading up on supplies for the big hike. I now know why my friend Heather loved it so much here. It is a peaceful paradise and each alley brings a new adventure.(See previous blogs for recently uploaded pics)

Death Defying Delhi (By Justyna)

Well, what can I say about today, especially following our very eventful first day and flight! Neither of us slept particularly well at the hotel Vivek - the heat is stifling and incredibly uncomfortable and even though our room has AC of sorts, it is very third world. But we wanted to make the most of our day here, so got up and went out at about 7AM. Triston needed a haircut so we decided to kill two birds and had breakfast next to a barber shop. Breakfast was great - chapatis with cauliflower and potato on the street, and as I sat and watched Triston being pummelled by the hairdressers, who with each new 'treatment' seemed to be raking in the cash (price of original haircut 50 rupees, price of haircut, blackhead removing face mask, rose water treatment, massage, creaming - 450 rupees - but how can you say no?!) We had decided to see Humayun's tomb which is the predecessor to the Taj Mahal and had to take a Tuk-Tuk there. Our driver pretty much as soon as we got in, started to tell us what we ought to see and that he would show us the 'creme de la creme' of Delhi. Politely we were able to decline everything bar from his insistence on taking us the the most prominent Sikh temple en route. We felt a bit weird, like VIP's but slightly out of place as we were taken by our guide through all the rituals in this beautiful, white marble building. No tourists ever go there but actually it was pretty cool - best of which was the visit to the voluntary kitchen which feeds about 20'000 people per day for free. I even got to roll a couple of chapatis with the locals. Following this diversion, the tomb was stunning, well worth the trip and it will be interesting comparing it to the Taj in afew weeks time. From here we took another death defying drive by Tuk-tuk to Chadni Chowk - the main bazaar area of Delhi, and having navigated 1000's of stalls, people, beggars, dogs in the intense 45 degree heat, we were both losing our cool. Thankfully our efforts were yet again rewarded by stumbling at the 11hour (prior to my biting off someone's, probably Triston's, head) upon a really lovely restauarant which had a very good punjabi menu. The frozen daiquiri and gin and tonic worked a treat as well, and even though on the way home we were witness to our 7th prodding beggar, a naked man with balls the size of a football, yet another impertinent indian man who somehow bumped into my breast, and a bag full of skinned rats, we got back to the hotel full of joie de vivre, though very very tired and in need of some calm. Delhi is mad: certainly the most manic, smelly, dodgy, weird city I have ever been to and I won't lie to say I am really looking forward to flying out to nepal tomorrow to a much more cool and calm environment. But it has been a huge adventure and I am truly blessed with the most perfect travelling companion, who is my protector when i need protection and my sense of humour, when i have none.