One thing I never liked doing since my childhood was to see off someone at the railway station! I still don’t. As the carriages moved out of the platform with me helplessly waving my hands, I used to think that the traveler is the luckiest one on this planet. When my friends went back to their hostels after their vacations, I used to think they were very happy to ‘travel’ back to their places of study where it might well have been to the contrary.
Such views have evolved with age. Destination and purpose of travel does have a bearing now. For example, when I travel to my native place for a vacation, I’m all too excited but same can’t be said for the reverse.
Just like many other Bengali families, travel started in my childhood with trips to Puri (Odisha). Whenever there was scope and time, that was the only destination to aim for. My parents never wasted time to choose places as that was always settled. So was the itinerary. It almost got to a point where I started to prefer staying at home rather than going there.
That pattern changed in our first ever trip to Darjeeling after my class X exams. That was the time I was introduced to the misty bends of the mountain roads. For the first time, I came to know that clouds could hover around me and I could swim in and out of them. The first ever view of Kanchenjunga from the mall was to change the way I looked at travel forever.
The Kanchenjunga range
Then came the eventful trip to the Garhwal Himalayas in 1999. Events that occurred during the build up to that trip or even during it almost threatened to it, but we somehow managed to pull it off at the end. Nowhere in this world, you get to see a temple at the backdrop of the snow-capped Himalayas. I was thrilled to travel through places like Rudraprayag, the place where Corbett shot the man-eating leopard way back in 1925. I plan to share the details of this trip sometime in future on this site.
Then my profession brought me to the city of Delhi. Every year, when my company published the holiday calendar, our (me and my wife) first job was to look for long weekends. They were my windows to venture out to the corners of The Himalayas. Many such weekends took me to places of seclusion in Kumaon, Garhwal and Himachal Pradesh.
Naukuchiataal, Kumaon, Uttarakhand
Mountain roads have always fascinated me. In more than one ways, they resemble the journey of life. After every bend, you’re presented with a view that is different from the previous one. It’s like a play with its scenes unfolding. You never know what surprise awaits you at the next bend. Mountains are probably the only places which let you to be with yourself. When you walk the trails up or down the slopes, you’re always with yourself and no one else. You’re responsible for the decisions you take, the speed at which you travel and hence, how soon you reach your destination.
I wish to share these experiences with you with my posts about my voyages. If they interest you, I’ll be more than happy to answer any queries you may have about those trips. Looking forward to interact with you all.
Climb staircases, breath walks, stretches, a bit of jogging, leisure watching videos of Himalayan travel – all of that to keep you charged for your next mountain travel
Not sure if it was the quality of the room or the effect of beer or maybe because of both, I slept through the night and woke up at 6 AM. There wasn’t any hurry. We were the only boarders at the hotel last night. The day’s destination was only till Itahari. The American set breakfast was excellent in its presentation, taste as well as food values. When we strapped our backpacks and moved out to the lawn, the sun was shining bright. I asked Sonam to pay our regards to her father and bade goodbye to Singhi Namjong.
Gyabla, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
We tread the same path which brought us to Gyabla. The trail went through dense vegetation on level grounds for sometime and started descending. We had to take long steps to descend. A small stream of water trickled through them. The place was covered by forest canopy which caused less sunlight to reach. The moisture and shade were ripe for mosses to grow on the staircases. Though it put some stress on our knees, our lungs were spared. After a few turns, we emerged on the banks of the Ghunsa. Despite bright sunshine, the dense canopy of the forests prevented much of it. The Ghunsa roared along. The stream was much clearer than what we saw in the upper reaches. It was now running over a bed of stable rocks and not on pebbles and debris that mixes with the stream when a river emerges from the snout of a glacier. We reached Thangyam. Its lodges bathed in bright sunshine. Just as we passed by, someone called us out from the valley. He was the staff from Singhi Namjong who hailed from Darjeeling. They had another property at Thangyam and he was there, helping the boarders.
Thangyam, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
We went along and after Thangyam, the trail moved up again. The colorful foliage re-appeared. This uphill walk would lead us to Amjilosa. We spent significant time taking photographs and videos on this part of the trail. The bright sunshine amplified the colors. That made the forests appear more beautiful than what we witnessed on our way up. After hiking for sometime, the incline became adulating and we entered the open section of the ridge. The trees on this section reduced significantly and the slopes were covered with grasses. The flowing breeze caused ripples through the grassland.
Suddenly, Dhananjoy pointed towards the distant houses of Amjilosa, which appeared as tiny matchboxes. We still had a long way to reach there. Before entering the village premises, we went through a track lined by beautiful green ferns on both sides. The meandering trail went through the ferns, under the forest cover and we found ourselves amidst the houses of Amjilosa. When we started from Amjilosa on our way up, the skies were cloudy and it weighed on my mind. But today, it was different. With the sun shining bright, a sense of accomplishment in our minds and the prospects of reaching Itahari by afternoon, our spirits were high. I recalled our stay at Amjilosa with the rain falling hard on its roofs, the village dogs relentlessly barking through the night. The disturbed sleep I had was because of my skepticism about the weather. All that was past and now I could say, they proved to be futile. Kahngchenjunga was generous in allowing us to its premises, baring all it had in its repertoire. After crossing the alleys of Amjilosa, the trail entered the forests again and started to descend. The track now circumnavigated the entrenched roots of the trees via twists and turns and we descended fast towards Phedi. After crossing many switchbacks, we finally arrived there to rest ourselves on the armchairs of the only tea house. The time to prepare our dal bhats gave ample scope for rest and to enjoy the cool breeze under the shades of the canopy.
Courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
Phedi, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
After lunch, the descent was quicker. After crossing a bridge, there was a steep hike over some unstable grounds to finally regain the trail, which now went through the villages. The cardamom fields reappeared and Ghunsa came close to us. The sprinklers were at their task to spray water over the fields, which covered the entire slopes. We crossed the wooden ladder bridges over the Ghunsa to reach Jaubari.
The even trail followed through the fields to reach the suspension bridge. We crossed Ghunsa again and started to climb. This was the last stretch of the trail before Itahari. It ran on an elevated ground, much above the stream of Ghunsa. The bushes were shinining bright. I kept looking down to my left to spot the wooden bridge that joined the two banks of Ghunsa near Itahari. The sight of that bridge signalled our arrival to Itahari and almost immediately we started our steep descent towards the village. After a few switchbacks, the lodges appeared. We were alloted the same room. It was 14.30. Dhananjoy was ecstatic. There was ample time and he saw a great opportunity to take a bath. I thought I'd follow him too. He also enticed me to wash my clothes. My plan was to wear the same shirt at least till Taplejung, but he somehow convinced me otherwise. I fell into the trap with the hope of getting them dry enough to wear again. The bright sunshine and the remaining hours of the afternoon also played a part to that decision. Little did I know that the tall mountain walls were going to hide the sun pretty soon and the intensity of the sun would dramatically reduce. As that happened, chances drying my clothes went with it. I had no other option but to wrap them up into plastic covers and pack them in my bag. That left me with only one shirt to wear day and night from thereon, till I reached Kathmandu. Only then I'd get access to my cache of clothes left there (would I?). For the moment, I kept those thoughts at bay and we ordered for some chilli chicken and beer.
Courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
Itahari, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
As we sipped along, sitting in the lawn, munching at our snacks, afternoon descended to the valley. In the evening, it was time for a party with our guide and porter. Limbu settled with coke (the first time I saw a porter content with it). But for us and the guide, the taps opened wide and thick. Slowly, as the beer started replacing the blood in our brains, we recounted our experience of the travel, the world was dreamy. To be honest, I don't quite recall when we switched from snacks to dinner. Dhananjoy even had doubts whether dinner was served at all! With our dizzy heads, sleep was comfortable. The sounds of the roaring Ghunsa played like a lullaby.
24th April, 2026
It was time to bid goodbye to Itahari. A walk for another 30 minutes should take us to the point where we'd board a local jeep. The previous night, we met a local Nepalese who is a teacher at a school in Ghunsa. His home is in the Terai at a place bordering India. After vacations, he was now returning to the school, accompanied by a student. Just like us, jeep rides for two days brought them to Itahari. After a night's rest, they were about to embark on their journey in the morning, on foot. Their target was to reach Phale the same day and Ghunsa, on the next. This has been his routine for the last 12-15 years for which he has been serving as a school teacher. While they started their hike, we moved in the other direction towards the jeep point. After a breef walk, we reached the landslide area aka the jeep station. Our bags got loaded. Limbu hung by the door. Apparently, it'd be more convinient for him to get down at Ranipul, on our way. The jeep started its journey on the topsy turvy road. We bade goodbye to Limbu at Ranipul where he headed towards his village (a few hours walk). From here on, the Ghunsa emptied its waters into the much bigger Tamor river. The jeep headed towards Lelep, a local village, to pickup some passengers. It wound up the slopes amidst forests and came to a halt. Cultivation fields lay in front of us, interspersed by houses. The entire village was visible in a bird's eye view. The fields were surrounded by thickly wooded hills.
Lelep village, courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
Lelep village, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy DeyLelep village
The flow of the Tamor river was visible as a small glittering piece of ribbon amidst the deep wooded gorges. We waited for the locals to arrive. Once they came in, the jeep resumed its journey to Taplejung. Signs of work for a hydro electric project was visible along the stream of the Tamor river. It has been diverted at multiple places to allow work on the reservoir and the dam. The entire place was filled with pieces of blasted boulders with JCBs operating frantically to transfer the debris. We've seen the devastating effects of unrestricted hydro power projects in the Indian Himalayas. Is Nepal repeating the same mistake? Diverting river flows, blocking their beds is to deny the river of its legitimate territory and sooner or later, it takes its forfeit. The local inhabitants have lived peacefully for decades, reverring the forces of nature. It's now when "development" turns a blind eye towards the eco system, they suffer nature's wrath. The road widened. Though unpaved, traveling was relatively comfortable. Green fields whizzed past. After meeting the Mechi highway, we turned left. The winding roads led us though the gate which welcomed travelers to Taplejung. The jeep traveled through the alleys and markets to finally drop us at the "The Hotel Mountain". After a comfortable bath, we settled at the dining place to enjoy our dal bhat with mutton curry. After lunch, it was time for us to roam around leasurely in the markets of Taplejung. Dhananjoy resumed his search for a Kangchenjunga base camp trek T-shirt, which continued to elude us (as it did in Kathmandu). On our way bak towards the hotel, we encountered a sign-board pointing towards "Siddhi Danda pokhari". Locals said that it was just a km away. We started our walk through the cardamom fields and forests to reach there. There was a lake. A set of stairs went up by the side of the lake towards a temple. We sat there for sometime, enjoying the serene breeze flowing through the trees. Birds chirped along.
Siddhi Danda, Taplejung
I got a message from Tej Gurung to start early in an attempt to get a seat on an earlier flight from Bhadrapur on the next day. At times, flights in the evening get canceled, especially when weather turns bad. That revived some nightmares about our prior experiences at Lukla and Tumlingtar. For the moment, we returned to the hotel. A dinner with dal bhat and fish curry was followed by a good sleep.
25th April, 2026
We started at 6.30 in the morning. It rained last night and the skies looked dark. The jeep started on its way down. It sped through the serpentine highway, winding down the slopes. I recalled our arrival at Taplejung about a fornight back. As if the scenes were being played out in the reverse order. We stopped at a shop for breakfast with samosas and chana masala (both very famous in rural Nepal). Fog engulfed the road and visibility reduced to a few meters. It revived my memories of Kangchenjunga, a famous film by Satyajit Ray, shot at Darjeeling, where he used the hide and seek between mist and sunlight marvellously to portray the uncertainties in the lives of the characters. In the meantime, I kept looking at the flight history of my flight from Bhadrapur. It's normal to be late by upto an hour, but there haven't been any cancellations recently. After a lunch with mutton curry and dal bhat, our journey resumed and so did the rains.
En-route Bhadrapur
Dhananjoy left us at Kanyam. The trail moved down to the plains. We crossed Charali, where the road on the left led towards Kakarbhita (the Indian border). We headed straight through the dense forests of the Terai and reached Bhadrapur at 15.00. On efforts of Dilal, we got seats in an earlier flight at 15.30 of Budhha Air. The prospects of reaching Kathmandu earlier elated me and I informed Dhananjoy as well as my home. But I celebrated a bit too early. We checked in and moved to the boarding area. By that time, the skies went dark. There was an aircraft of the Yeti Airlines standing on the runway. The time of departure for our flight went past, but I wasn't worried yet. As long as I reached Kathmandu on the same day, I was fine. Boarding started for the Yeti Airlines flight. When that aircraft was airborne, I envied the passengers as till then, there was no sign of the Budhha Air aircraft. People started tracking status of the flight from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur. That's the one which would take us back. It was yet to depart from there. The rains increased in strength and with it, the chances of the flight dwindled. After sometime, we were informed that our flight has been cancelled. At the checkin desk, where we recollected our luggage, we were told that we'd be allocated seats on the first departing flight tomorrow. We exited the airport with heavy legs and dropped shoulders to reach a hotel just outside the gate of the airport. Me and Dilal settled in a double room, which was clumsy, but one could manage for a night. Weather forecasts weren't great for the next few days. While sleeping at night, I went through the different possibilities. What if the same story repeats tomorrow? I must reach Kathmandu, as my flight to Delhi was booked for the next day from there. Just then, the clattering sounds of rain started outside. I went to the balcony and was dismayed by the sights of heavy rain lashing the grounds. I started to think about an alternative plan. I checked prices for flights from Bagdogra (an airport in the adjoining areas of Bengal) to Delhi. When I enquired at the hotel counter earlier, they informed it takes about 1.5 hours to reach there from Bhadrapur. The prices started from 13,000 INR. Opting for that would mean leaving my left-over cache of luggage at Kathmandu, forfeiting my hotel stay as well as flight cost of Kathmandu-Delhi flight (which I booked as non-cancellable). I messaged to the hotel about this possibility. They assured of not charging any cancellation and dispatching my luggage via courier. Sleep didn't go well as I lept out multiple times to the balcony to check the status of the rain. Towards early morning, rain stopped, but the skies looked ominous. We reached the airport but by that time, rain resumed. We checked in once again. Passengers, as usual, continued to check the status of the flight from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur. Once it was known that it started off from there (after a delay of 1.5 hours), they switched to tracking the online route of the flight. Rains kept lashing at the runway of Bhadrapur airport. The online trail of the aircraft was steadily moving towards Bhadrapur, but then it started circling multiple times. It wasn't able to advance further due to turbulence. After somtime, it broke through and resumed its advance towards Bhadrapur. Just about when we thought that it would land, it was diverted towards Janakpur, another city in the Terai. I decided to return via Bagdogra. By that time, prices shot up to 17,000 INR. Dilal helped me to reclaim my baggage and I boarded an auto after bidding goodbye to him. The driver hailed from an Indian family, but now was settled in Nepal. We went through the local roads amidst aggricultural fields. Multiple pillars marked the border between Bengal and Nepal. I reached Kakarbhita, had my breakfast, exchanged my remaining Nepalese currency and then crossed over to India. A cab from there carried me to the Bagdogra airport. Reaching there, I felt relieved. I spent the rest of my time, waiting for my afternoon flight, which took off after a minor delay of 30 minutes. A trip that was so rich in natural views, ended in a fashion where I almost fled from Nepal. But for this minor glitch (yes, I'd still call it minor), the Himalayas were ever generous and so was Mt Kangchenjunga - "the five treasures of the high snow". Till we meet again in the mountains, goodbye friends.
I wondered whether I should wrap up the descent in a single episode, given that all excitement of getting to the close quarters of Kahgchenjunga and its colleagues was now over. But that wouldn’t have been fair for multiple reasons. One obviously being the natural display along the descent, which was quite different than while going up. I also wanted to share my experience of staying at the Singhi Namjong hotel at Gyabla, its hospitality and a sense of cosiness in these remote corners of the world. I also had the fortune of learning about how mountaineering expeditions are conducted and its operational challenges. For my case, the surprises weren’t over till the last day of my departure. My plans for the return journey went for a toss. That’s a story of its own.
22nd April, 2026
It was time to bid goodbye to Khambachhen. Our plan was to descend to Ghunsa as quickly as possible. From there, it’d take about 1 hr 45 mins to reach Phale. We’d have lunch there. Another 2 hours of descent should take us to Gyabla. The descent from Khambachhen to Ghunsa shouldn’t take more than 3.5 hours. While we were a bit sad to leave Khambachhen, but there was some joy and relief too, at the prospects of reaching under tree line and more importantly, reaching Gyabla. Staying at our favorite hotel Singhi Namjong was exciting. Because of the comfort, added with the feeling of having completed our mission, it was expected to be an enjoyable stay at Gyabla. The reason we were a bit sad to leave Khambachhen was the cordial behavior of the hosts. We had most of our conversations with Didi (Nupu’s wife). On our way up, we asked why they didn’t have bread toasts on their breakfast menu, while it was available at Ghunsa (a lodge owned by Nupu’s brother). She jokingly replied that her sister in law didn’t share the recipe with her! When we asked the reason, she was prompt in her reply, “jealousy!”. Everyone at the dining space burst into laughter, including her father in law. We’d miss that warmth. The mountains blessed us with the sunrise views once again. We started off at 6.30 after breakfast, bidding goodbye to Nupu and Didi. After crossing the lawn, we crossed over the flowing streams over a small wooden bridge. To our left, yaks were grazing. Though vegetation is scarce in Khambachhen, patches of fresh green grass are there, beside the flowing streams. The yaks dipped their mouths in them and devoured the grass. A baby yak followed its mother wherever she went.
Khambachhen
We started moving up a gradual incline to move out of the valley. After reaching the sign board which welcomes people to Khambachhen, I turned around to have a final look at the lodges. Staying more than one night at a place is rare on treks. It only happens at the place where one goes through acclimatization. We spent 3 nights here. Hence it stayed on my mind a bit more than others. I also turned around towards the north. The trail towards Lhonak and further on to Pangpema appeared like a string lying along the left slopes of the Ghunsa river. On turning right, an easy stroll followed by a minor hike led us to the start of the suspension bridge. Mt Jannu dominated the skies on the left. The winding trail to its base camp was also visible. It revived the memories of our journey to its interiors. As we started crossing the Ghunsa, the morning breeze swept our faces. After reaching the other side, we turned right from the sign-board showing directions to two diverging paths. One going left towards the "Phaktanglung base camp" of Mt Jannu and the other we just came along. The trail on the right moved upwards in its winding ways. When I turned back, the lodges of Khambachhen were already out of sight. I had my windcheater on. We slowly climbed the staircases. The slope was gradual and then, as anticipated, the trail reached a broken end and the landslide area started. On our way up, this caused nervousness, but now it seemed manageable. I navigated carefully through the narrow track of pebbles and dust. On the further end, I could see the trail reaching a bend, which had an iron pole. Beyond that, the normal trail would resume. Some careful steps led us to that point. We stood there and cast a look back at the landslide. I stopped for sometime to take off my windcheater as the sun was fully up and was weighing down on our bodies. We took the opportunity to gulp down some sips of water and pop lozenges into our mouths. The staircases resumed. As the slopes were gentle, the length of the stairs were long. Unlike while going up, breathing was easier as we kept losing height, moving into areas with increasing oxygen levels. We could now see the woods in the lower areas. Somewhere down the line, there's Labuk, beyond which, the trail becomes more or less gradual. The poles reappeared with prayer flags. Then came the sign-board for the viewpoint where we saw Mt Jannu for the first time (on our way up) - the Phaktanglung view point. We bade goodbye to the mountain. The vast expanse of boulders was gradually coming to an end as trees started reappearing. Their heights were smaller but the canopy started to form above our heads. After sometime, we reached the place of worship, Hajare. We passed by the birch trees. Their skins hung around, which exposed the interiors of their barks. The Ghunsa kept flowing in leaps and bounds beside the trail. The day was still bright and the vegetation was shining. After Hazare, the density of the forests increased. It was refreshing to move under the tree line. The landscape in the Himalayas are distinct in lower and upper regions. They almost seem like two different climes. The dense greenery, flowing torrents and flowers in the lower regions transform into monochrome ruggedness of boulders, snow and glacial moraines in the upper regions. While the close ups of awe inspiring mountains, their ice falls and the glaciers overwhelm us, but the eyes get their relaxation once greenery appears. That's what was happening with us on our way down. After sometime, we came out in the opening of Labuk. Labuk lay almost at the border between the lower and upper landscapes of the trail. One could roughly say, it marked the transition between sub-alpine and alpine zones of the Himalayas in this region. The trail now moved gradually along the banks of the Ghunsa. One or two rhododendron trees started appearing.
We missed these flowers in upper valleys. It was pleasant to see them reappear. Their densities kept increasing. The buds which we saw on our way up, we're now in full bloom. The color shades in the flowers in this area ranged from light pink, pink with colored spots to dark pink. The latter variety were much less when compared to the other two. Suddenly, I found myself walking through an area where small yellow flowers dotted the floors. These were small shrubs with dense light green foliage with yellow flowers. With these bright display of flowers, the entire place basked with brightness. We crossed the lonely huts of Chermalung and Tartang to reach the dry bed of the Thango river.
After regaining the trail on the other side of the riverbed, we walked for sometime and then could see the lodges of Ghunsa from a distance. The village wore a bright look. Prayer flags decorated every top. We saw these on our way up too, but their numbers have increased and so did their brightness. It turned out that these decorations have been done on the occassion of some Tibetan festival. Dilal had to complete some formalities at the conservation area office. Just as they record entries on the way up, they tally again on the way down to ensure nobody is missing. We've seen such checks in Annapurna and Manaslu circuit trails. We took some time for photographs in the backdrop of the village houses and then followed the trail. Dilal would join us en-route after completing the formalities. Limbu dropped down to slippers and half sleeves. After crossing the river, we continued our walk towards Phale. Trees became taller and more rhododendrons started appearing. Along with the lighter shades, the scarlet and deep red varieties increased.
Ghunsa
The lodges of Ghunsa faded away as we moved along. We came to the junction where another sign-board declared an arrow towards Nango La. That's the route towards Olangchung Gola. Carole was to take that route on her way towards that valley and potentially onwards to the Makalu region. We came across a resting place. Cool breeze caressed our faces as we gulped down sips of water. After some rest, we resumed our walk towards Phale. The trail was broken at some places where they bridged the gaps with logs. One could gauge the fury of nature by these scars left by past monsoons. Small ups and downs, a few staircases and a gradual trail led us to the open valley of Phale. We went through the familiar network of streams and rhododendron bushes to reach the tea houses.
Phale
We spread our legs and sat in the dining space of one of these, while our dal bhat lunches got prepared. We devoured our lunch as hunger was at its peak and the preparation was good. After lunch, we resumed our walk through the meadows of Phale. By now, the sky got cloudy. That reduced the heat but the darkness of the clouds raised some concerns of rain. So far, we've been able to avoid it. Gyabla was still about 2 hours away. The wide meadows of Phale spread out on both sides. A light breeze swept through the meadows. The valley narrowed towards the end where the trail entered the forests and we reached the gate.
PhalePhale, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
Beyond the gate, the trail descended sharply through rocky and winding staircases. It put some stress on our knees but we lost altitude very fast. After multiple switchbacks we came down to a trail running on elevated banks of the Ghunsa. We were walking along an open ridge. The Ghunsa flowed down to the lower valleys in leaps and bounds. By this time the clouds dominated the skies. A felt a few drops on my body. On asking, Dilal assured that it wasn't likely to rain. We continued our walk and reached a tea house on the banks of the Ghunsa.
Phale, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy Dey
I remembered this tea house because of its location amidst rhododendron trees with full bloom. We stopped for a few minutes to rest our backs. But the increasing darkness of the clouds prompted us to resume quickly. We now walked right beside the Ghunsa. They've tried to tame the landslides by caging the rocks using barbed iron wires. It is a technique used in the mountains to avoid having to use concrete. Concrete prevents growing of vegetation but increases weight which often gives away during inevitable landslides. Caging rocks in this way tries to keep them together but still allows vegetation to grow over time which solidifies the ground. The number of drops increased and finally, even Dilal advised to put on our rain covers. The drizzle increased and darkness set on. Very soon it converted to incessant rains. Despite rain covers, I got drenched. Seeing through the spectacles proved challenging. We made our way through the forests and reached the base of the final hike towards Gyabla. Streams of rainwater flowed down the rocky staircases. The rains lashed at us while we made our way up the staircases. After reaching the top, level ground awaited us. We walked briskly through the bushes till we could see the roofs of Gyabla tea houses. Above all, stood the double storeyed premises of the Singhi Namjong hotel. We reached there at 16.30.
The Singhi Namjong
We entered the premises of the Singhi Namjong hotel (we can't call it just a tea house) through its ground floor entrance. After hanging up our rain soaked clothes, we entered the room alloted to us. It was on the 1st floor, a three bedded room with an almirah at one of its corners. Reaching the premises of this hotel gave us a feeling of home coming. Gyabla didn't have WiFi, but had everything else. A large dining space that could swallow three other dining spaces of usual dimensions. A kitchen of a similar scale. Its rooms can accommodate at least 6 people with decent living space for each, but they're alloted just for two. Add to it, a huge lawn adjoined the premises with enough wires to dry up your clothes. Beyond the lawn, went up the slopes towards the monastery of upper Gyabla. On clear days, one could either take a small hike to the upper village or just relax in the lawn looking at the distant hills beyond the valley. Our bodies were tired. We were eager to reach the dining space to start our evening session of beer. But why not have a hot shower before it. The presence of good and large bathrooms prompted that decision. Dhananjoy has had showers at different places (not hot though) before, but I couldn't muster the courage. But hot shower was a different thing altogether. They gave a bucket full of hot water to each of us and we enjoyed our baths to the fullest. Sitting on our beds after the showers made all the accumulated stress go away. Though our muscles still retained some of the fatigue, but it was fulfulling. By this time, the rains ceased and the sky became clearer. The fading sunlight painted the surroundings with a shade of yellow that tells that the sun was about to call it a day.
Hotel Singhi Namjong, Gyabla
We occupied a corner at the dining space. Beer got served. A lady served a bowl of popcorns. Looking at her, we were amazed, it was Sonam! We looked for her immediately after reaching the hotel, but she was alseep. But now she was back in the kitchen, performing her regular duties to serve the boarders. A wrap of scarf around her head didn't allow us to recognize her initially, but the smile was unmistakable. Sonam came from a Sherpa family. Her father was a climbing sirdar (the leading sherpa of a mountaineering expedition) for many years and has been to all the major mountains of the world, being part of summit parties to many of them. Years of experience prompted him to start a business of conducting professional expeditions to the Nepal Himalayas. Being a sherpa, I asked him the same question I asked Nupu, which was, whether he hailed from the Solu Khumbu region. His reply was a No. Moreover, he corrected my understanding that while most of the sherpas belong to that region, but not all. At least not all who are mountaineers. Over successive years, many developments have reached that region with schools and hospitals (a large part of it is due to the untiring efforts of Sir Edmond Hillary and his Himalayan trust). With development coming in, many sherpas have moved out of the region to other parts of Nepal or even the world. Many of them don't consider taking up the job of a porter or guide in an expedition (which comes with its disproportionate share of risks) like their previous generations. His organization is still actively involved in conducting expeditions. The majority of them go to Mt Everest, but others fare as well. Time kept moving along, and then it was time for our dinner. We were served with delicious yak curries along with chapatis. This time we didn't have to instruct for "churum churum". We were back sleeping at the height of 2730 m.
