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.
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.
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.
The morning was pleasant at Namrung. Not just because the sun was out, but also a sense of relief prevailed. The day’s walk was just supposed to last for about five hours. We should reach Lho no later than 2 PM, probably even earlier. If weather stays fine, Lho should offer the first view of the coveted Mt Manaslu. At the breakfast table, we were having a chat with the owner of the tea house. They were inhabitants of a village from the lower reaches of the Gorkha district. Their stay at the tea house was entirely seasonal and coincided with the trekking season, i.e. from March to May & again from October to November. They were Buddhists by faith and had already visited the shrines of Bodh Gaya and the monasteries of Sikkim, the state of North Eastern India. When we reached Namrung, the previous evening, I somehow felt at home & was comfortable about reaching a shelter at the end of an arduous day of trekking. The fact that we had an entire evening to rest, gave me peace. I had the same feeling at Jagat. Probably, the neat & cosy rooms had a part to play. The fact that the comfort was only for one evening didn’t stop us from enjoying the warmth of our stay. It was business as usual the next morning. The same tea session, same diet at the breakfast table, a quick brain dump from our guide about the day’s itinerary, the group snap at the lawn of the tea house, strapping of our backpacks & off we went for our next destination.
The route beyond the village of Namrung led us to the barley fields where the villagers were at work. The winds sailed through the fields creating ripples along the crop ready for harvest. In one of the fields, ladies were at work. Big baskets lay beside them. Faces of their new born kids popped out from the basket. They were obedient enough to stick to the confines of the basket, casting their gaze towards just about anything. Their mothers were busy harvesting the crop, but simultaneously kept a strict vigil on them. Solitary houses stood upright amid the vast fields.
The sky started to get overcast as clouds closed in. The mountain peaks hid behind them but traces of snow in their lower reaches acted as reminders of their presence. Another group of trekkers crossed us and their guide struck a cord with Dhananjoy. They were headed to Syala, a village about two hours beyond Lho. That’s one of the beauties of Nepal. There’s no compulsion to halt at “well known” places. The presence of multiple villages along the route, all equipped with tea houses (though their numbers vary), allows for a customized itinerary according to your choice & energy. Children from local villages were roaming around and we obliged them with lozenges.
They had red cheeks with hands and legs smudged with mud. They kept looking at us with wonder. “Where do they come from and what are they doing in our villages?” – was written in their expressions. Their parents wished us “Tashi Delek” from window panes of nearby houses and we reciprocated back. The fields reached right up to the other end of the valley, beyond which lay the river and the hills rose from the other side of it with their slopes covered with coniferous forests. As we moved amid the fields, we saw some of the houses deserted, an indication that their inhabitants had already moved down the valley to the lower reaches, a typical migration at the onset of winters.
The sun came out and poured its golden rays on the seemingly never ending fields, adding a touch of gold. Strong winds created ripples among the ripe crop awaiting a harvest. The vegetation along the slopes of the hills on both sides started having tinges of brown and at times, red. The colors of the leaves were starting to change, a phenomenon that is commonly known as “fall colors” in some of the North American countries. These signs told us that we were gaining altitude while moving from lower sub tropical forests to upper temperate forests. The dense green canopy was gradually giving way to relatively sparse coniferous vegetation. After sometime we reached another milestone that read Bhanjam (2650 m).
We saw a lot of new tea houses coming up along the entire route, some even bore the smell of fresh wood and polish. That indicated growing popularity of the trail among trekkers, but also a potential of overcrowding as has been the fate of the more “famed” ones like Annapurna or Everest. One important difference was relatively low number of helicopter voyages and the sound of their rotors. We heard some of them near Jagat, which has a helipad but not beyond. They are much more prevalent on the routes to Annapurna or Everest base camps with the former having a full helicopter tour right up to its base camp. The snow capped mountains still hid behind the clouds, though the lower reaches of the valley had abundant sunshine. We had enough time at our disposal and kept scouting for photography subjects as we knew even with these delays, we’d be able to reach Lho by lunch time, a welcome change in the itinerary that would continue till Dharamsala. The trail was more or less level which we enjoyed walking through the fields and the valley.
The route meandered through the local villages. Sometimes beside the fields, the monasteries, the mani stones and of course besides the river. Colors of vegetation, in the meantime, increased in their variety. Gradually, we started to see the lower reaches of the glaciers of the snow peaks nearby, but their tops were still covered with clouds.
After a long time, we saw a few houses right at the top of a distant hill and our guide stated that it was the Lho monastery. It was at a considerable height and we had to look up to it. We started to prepare in our minds for a long and steep climb but our guide assured us, that the Lho village and all its tea houses lay at the base of that hill and hence, would require us to climb. However, we could still visit the monastery and have a bird’s eye view of the valley we just came across, if we wanted to, after a hike to that location after lunch. Dhananjoy, as usual, was excited about that prospect, but I preferred not to commit myself and take the decision after lunch, which was still a long way ahead as we’ve just “seen” from a distance and not yet “reached” the houses of Lho . The act of seeing and reaching a destination, especially in these mountains, has a lot of difference, especially to us, the mortals from plains.
Lho is a relatively large village and has a number of tea houses. It is the most common stop over before SamaGaun, though some trekkers prefer to continue ahead after lunch to stay ahead, in order to gain some ground before reaching Samagaun (as one of the other groups did, as I mentioned before). We preferred not to, as there’s no way we could skip the halt and an extra day of acclimatization at Samagaun, so there wasn’t any point to hurry. Furthermore, Lho offers the first views of Mt Manaslu on this trail. While clouds kept it at bay, but we were hopeful of having a glimpse of the famed peak, the next morning, before leaving for Samagaun. After crossing a few more bends, we finally arrived at our destined tea house “Majestic Manaslu”.
A first glance at the tea house elevated our spirits. It had a well decorated lawn with well maintained gardens that spread out in front as well as the back. It had its own fields where they grew some of the vegetables. The rooms too, looked good and most importantly, especially after our experience at Namrung, it had warm blankets.
By this time, the sun, once again hid behind the clouds and strong winds started to blow and with it, brought in a light drizzle. We were chilled to our bones and quickly entered the dining space which was covered with glass on all sides and had a fire place in the middle where dried yak dungs provided the fuel and the smoke got drifted out by a chimney strutting its head above the place. It reminded me of the tea houses on the route to Everest base camp. It was a good place to hang around after lunch and I lost my interest to hike to the Lho monastery, another 2 hours to go up and come down. Dhananjoy retained his energy and went ahead with Niladri, who primarily went to provide company. It was only 2 PM and we had the entire afternoon with us. Ranjan da preferred to have a nap and went to the room while I hanged around in the dining space watching the surroundings or the other groups sitting in other tables. Some played cards, some others kept swiping through their snaps in their cameras or mobile devices. We were almost half way through our trek as the next day would see us reaching Samagaun, which is approximately half way through the trail and takes one to almost the base of Mt Manaslu.
The hills in and around Lho were covered with coniferous forests and every third tree bore a brownish yellow color making the overall canvas wonderful. I spent some of the time shaving as the temperature of the flowing water was somewhat bearable. That gave a feeling of weight loss from my chin as the last of these acts were performed at Kathmandu. Dhananjoy and Niladri came down from their hike in the evening. They had some good views from the top but not as good as they hoped for, thanks to the clouds.
Soon after their arrival, darkness engulfed the valley. It appeared as if evening was waiting outside the door and the moment one opened it, it came rushing in and with it, the biting cold. Given the fire place was turned on, I went up to my room and brought down the wet clothes and hung them on chairs around the fire place. We started playing cards but one of my eyes was on my clothes and I kept checking their moistness which wasn’t keen to go. After somewhat of a consolation, I turned them around to give the other side a chance to get dry. However, it turned out that I’d have to rely on the next day’s sun (as I’d been doing so far) for rest of the process as the fuel in the fire place started dwindling and tea house owners weren’t keen to replenish. After Jagat, we also had another chance to call our homes using locally bought WiFi cards. Exchange of news brought some comfort at both the ends. We kept playing cards till dinner got served. The lecture from the guide about the plan for the next day revealed that the walk up to Samagaun would be similar – i.e. we’d be able to reach by lunch and hence, would have the the later half to visit Birendra tal, a small glacial lake which could be reached after a small hike from Samagaun. The next day at Samagan was still an open question. We had the options to visit Manaslu base camp or to visit Pungyen gompa, a decision we deferred till we reached there. After dinner, we loaded our bottles with warm water and headed to our rooms. We would be sleeping at 3180 m.
The alarm kicked off at 4 AM. As soon as my eyes opened, the thoughts about the landslide area near Namrung came back to haunt me. I completed my morning duties and went inside the blanket once again. It was only after the second alarm at 5 AM, I’d get started to prepare myself. That was the norm I followed throughout the trail. Today’s walk was going to be the last of the long ones before crossing the pass. Apparently, the stretch after that would involve walking just 4-5 hours a day. That was to say, we’d only be walking during the pre-lunch session and would have the rest of the day at our disposal after reaching our destination. But for that to happen, we’d have to complete the long walk to Namrung, about 19.4 kms and of course, get over the landslide area just before the entrance of Namrung. Oh the landslide! It just refuses to get off my mind. After others got ready and we readied our bags for the porters, the morning tea session ensued. At the breakfast table, some of us stuck to muesli, some went for corn flakes. All of them accompanied by hot milk and slices of apple. It had already started to get boring, but given the circumstances, we couldn’t have asked for better. Dhananjoy didn’t prefer milk, so he had to opt for noodles (forcing muesli or corn flakes down the throat without an appropriate and hot solvent is impossible). Taste wasn’t as important as getting some stuff inside our bodies to generate energy for us to be able to sustain till lunch. After that, the staple “dal-bhat” would take care for the post-lunch session of walking. The plan was to have lunch at the village of Ghap.
Dhananjoy always insisted on having a group snap at the lodge before leaving. So we assembled along with our guide and porters for a snap and hit the trail. Clouds stayed away but the high mountains prevented sunshine from entering the valley. The weather had a chill and we put our jackets on. As usual, I had the sweat shirt from my previous day, hanging on my back for the sun to dry it up. The trail meandered through the homes and fields of the local village and we crossed the exit gate of Deng. Vegetation was still thick on both sides. That told us, we were still travelling through the lower sub-tropical zones.
We moved up along the banks of Budhi Gandaki, which made its way down through the lush green gorges. As I walked along, I kept thinking about the trail. Reaching Namrung would mark the end of the first phase of the trek. Beyond that, days of lengthy walk would get over, at least till Dharamshala. The successive days will take us to the higher reaches and importantly, Manaslu would oblige us with its appearance. We have left the villages inhabited by the Gurung behind and now, Tibetan settlements frequented the route. So did the Mani walls, entrance and exit gates created by stacking up stones. The concept of these gates which are often decorated by flags with Tibetan mantras inscribed on them, are meant to ward off the evils. Such gates are often decorated with paintings. The faintness in their colors are signs of the harsh winters they have to withstand every year.
As the valley widened, sunshine made its way into it and we had to peel off our jackets. We kept sipping water from our respective bottles, an important act to keep high altitude sickness at bay. One of the reasons of covering an average of 20 kms/day during the first 3/4 days was low altitude, a feat that can’t be repeated in the higher reaches of the trail.
We kept an eye on the signboards scattered along the trail to lookout for the time left to reach Ghap, our destination for lunch. The trail, meanwhile kept moving up and down. On the way down, the lungs get some rest, but the knees bear the weight. They’re the most unfortunate organs on such trails. Whether the trail moves up or down, there’s no respite for them. Whenever we moved down, my mind kept telling we were incurring a debt which we’d have to repay sooner or later. Moving down, often meant, going towards the banks of the river, only to cross over an embark on a steep hike on the other side. The mountain walls around us were covered with pine and bamboo forests with flowers showing up amid the greens.
Just before Ghap, the trail started moving down through the maze of local houses and fields till we entered the entrance gate. After another stretch of 1-1.5 km, we reached a tea house to have our lunch. As lunch was being prepared, we removed our backpacks and made ourselves comfortable in chairs amid bright sunshine. Some of us even dozed off with the pleasant warmth of the sun on our backs.
As we were settling in the tea house, other groups were moving out. I tried to utilize the sunshine to dry the clothes. As lunch got served, Ranjan da pulled out his bottle of pickle. The lentils, the boiled local vegetables, the green chilies added to the taste. After lunch, the rucksacks reclaimed their place on our backs and we moved on. The trail after Ghap led to the river and we crossed to the other side of it where the climb started again.
We entered a forest of big firs. The dense forest kept the sunshine out. At this time of the day, it was helpful as we could walk under shade. We continued to encounter herds of mules. On one occasion, we had to subside under a cave to make way for them. Just beyond the cave, there was a set of steps which had to be crossed. We kept hearing the bells of the mules coming from the opposite direction. We couldn’t see them until they reached the top of the steps. It was a large herd. We kept watching as the head of a mule made it’s appearance at the top. It spent sometime there trying to ascertain the steepness of the descent and then came hopping down followed by another one repeating the same steps. We had to wait for at least 15 to 20 minutes to allow the entire herd to cross over. We waited for some more time to ensure there were no further sounds of bells. Wild flowers adorned the forests.
We kept moving on the ground which was somewhat level. Our pace increased. Some of us kept focusing on objects of photography as there were plenty of subjects around. Wild flowers, dense forests, wild fruits. As I was moving ahead, I got a call from behind from our guide. I saw him looking at a tree with bunches of wild fruits, red in color. Others followed suit. He told us that they were wild litchis.
He asked us to try some. I popped one into my mouth, but wasn’t ecstatic about the taste. Others tried too, but their expressions didn’t exude much confidence either. The trail moved amid the forest till we reached another suspension bridge. We had to cross over a roaring torrent coming down the slopes to meet Budhi Gandaki. After reaching the middle point of the bridge, I tried to take some snaps, but it started to oscillate violently. I noticed that a herd of mules had started to cross over and were about to reach my place. I had to dump the idea of photography, move to the other side as quickly as possible to reach a place wide enough to grant passage to them.
The trail meandered through the forest till we reached a point where I saw some of the trekkers assembled at a point looking ahead as if to take stock of the route that lay ahead. It was the landslide area. I reached behind one of them and peeped over to have a look. As if the trail had been broken suddenly by sliding rocks that had come down the slopes. The entire slope on the left was bereft of any vegetation. As if someone pricked somewhere high above with enough strength and a huge swathe of land had shifted its base to move down in its entirety. The trail in that stretch meant nothing more than a pair of steps moving through the landmass which was still somewhat unstable with pebbles and gravels coming down the slope from high above. Porters and other trekkers moved swiftly through the area almost running over to the side beyond the stretch, which was again normal and secured by thick vegetation in the surrounding slopes. I thought of waiting for my guide for him to lend a hand, but decided against it. I stepped on to the stretch and tried to walk as normally as possible, i.e. to say by not putting extra stress on my feet which has contributed to circumspect steps and small avalanches of pebbles earlier. I crossed the distance of about 1.5 km as quickly as possible, giving just one glance towards the top on my left mid-way and as soon as I crossed over to safe grounds, I breathed a sigh of relief! The relief was also caused by the sight of the entrance gate of Namrung.
An old lady was selling home baked cakes, pastries and chocolates at the gate and many trekkers surrounded her to get a taste of the local bakery. We moved ahead towards our destined tea house. It was a pleasant relieved walk on level ground and we leisurely moved on. After we were allotted our rooms, we settled in. Dhananjoy went for a shower (yes, in cold waters). Our usual evening tea session ensued till the dinner time. The biting cold reminded us of the altitude we we had gained. We hoped to buy WiFi cards to talk to our respective homes, but it didn’t work. We submitted all our devices (phones, camera chargers, power banks etc.) to the tea house owner to get them charged at the dining place (the rooms didn’t have extra sockets, quite normal in these remote areas). Thankfully, he didn’t charge us for that (usually, an hour of charging costs 300-400 in Nepalese currency or even more depending on the altitude). When we saw the blankets, our hearts sank. They were just normal blankets which we use in places like Delhi. Apparently, the tea house was in its inaugural season and wasn’t equipped well enough as others. We kept all of our warm wares on as we went under the blankets, but it still proved to be futile and sleep eluded us through a large part of the night. We were sleeping at 2630 m. It suddenly struck me that Lukla, the starting point of the Everest Base Camp trek, was at 2860 m. So, after walking approximately 20 kms a day for four days we reached a height, which was only comparable (but still less than) the height of the starting point of the Everest Base Camp trek.
After breakfast, we started to move. The trail initially went through the alleys between the lodges and after sometime, it came out in the open. The valley was wide with Budhi Gandaki making its way down through the center of its floor. After a gradual hike, we came upon a flat ground with a big “H” painted at the center against a backdrop of a colored circle. It was a helipad.
Our guide assembled us together to say something about the upcoming stretch. A very narrow rocky path lay ahead of us with just enough space for a single person to place his steps. Just beside it, the vertical wall went straight down to meet the roaring river. The entire stretch was approximately 1.5 – 2 kms. The floor too, was unstable with loosely placed rocks and gravels. Chances of skidding were ripe. It was our first encounter with one of the numerous rockfall zones of this trail. The guide advised rest of the group to move ahead one after another, but not in parallel and he stayed with me in the rear to provide support. I wasn’t necessary for him to say “I can take care of one and only one person, but not all. So, be careful with your steps and try to cross the zone as fast as possible. Please don’t waste time in photography here”. It was quite obvious as one look at the stretch said it all. Rest of the group moved ahead one by one and finally I stepped on the stretch with the guide keeping a tight vigil from behind. Every step triggered small to medium avalanches of pebbles and boulders down the vertical wall below. I became very conscious about my steps and a bit more than necessary. I tried to enforce grip by pressing my boots hard on the floor, which only made it riskier as with that extra pressure, the stones and pebbles got displaced even more. I kept praying that we don’t encounter herds of mules and kept my ear alert for the sound of bells that usually accompany them. After missing a step here and there, triggering small to medium avalanches of stones, I finally managed to cross the stretch to come down to the banks of the river.
After some photo sessions on the river bank, we kept plodding on. Our next target was to reach Philim. For a trail as long as this, I normally tend to divide it and set interim targets. That gives a sense of progress. After Jagat, Mani walls and Stupas started appearing. Every village had an entrance and exit gate that were decorated with carefully placed stones and their ceilings were adorned by paintings. A typical sign of Tibetan settlements.
Every village we crossed, invariably had a board displaying an arrow towards the direction of Larke Pass. We were passing through a gorge surrounded by high mountains on both sides. That was the reason sunshine eluded us although we could see the upper reaches illuminated. Mountain peaks started making their appearances for the first time in this trail as we were nearing Salleri.
Salleri was a village of considerable size considering its remoteness. It bore the signs of a Tibetan settlement in all its features. The dress of the women, the jewelry of stones wore by them, the Mani wheels cleverly placed among running torrents to make them turn continuously without human effort, technology making its way into the Spiritual world! Kids with round fair faces with red cheeks and running noses came running and we obliged them with lozenges. Our wishes of “Tashi Delek” were reciprocated by them with joviality. Since the village was placed in a wide section of the valley, it bathed in bright sunshine. We had to remove our jackets. Torrents came running down and were being channelized through the fields.
After Salleri, a suspension bridge took us to other side of the river where a moderate climb began towards Philim.
After reaching the other side of the bridge, as we started our ascent towards Philim, we came across a young woman who spoke fluent Hindi, making us think that she was an Indian. It turned out that she was from Pokhara and was an air hostess serving in an international airline. She’s embarking on this trail as a side excursion amidst her vacation. We exchanged pleasantries and she asked us whether India too, offered such Himalayan trails. Our answer was, it certainly did, but not with the kind of support that is available in Nepal. Moreover, the number of trails in Nepal is proportionately larger, given that it almost houses one-third of the entire Himalayas. The presence of a large number of 8000 m peaks, also adds to the glamour. The trail somewhat leveled out after Philim and it was a pleasant walk amidst sunshine. The Budhi Gandaki kept company making its way down through the valley below. Waterfalls kept coming down the walls in a rush to meet the river. We were awestruck by one of them which had a beautiful rainbow created in front of it by the refracting sunlight through its water crystals. We spent minutes watching this amazing creation of nature.
After crossing Philim, our next target was Eklabhatti, a place, where many people halt for lunch. Our guide and the porters insisted on that too. But, our plan was to have lunch at Nyak Phedi. The idea behind that was, it would just leave about 2 hours to walk after lunch before reaching the day’s destination, Deng. As a compromise, we allowed the porters some rest and to have some mild breakfast while we kept moving. But as it turned out later, it proved to be tough and we wished we had lunch earlier. It was painful, in particular, for our porters. People in Nepal are accustomed to having early lunch. They have frequent meals during the day and hence, for them, it is painful to have long spells without food, especially with wrenching loads on their back. It proved tough on us too as we felt the fatigue building up.
Eklabhatti too, had an entrance gate, carefully created by stacking up stones to welcome the entrants.
Waterfalls kept coming down the walls. We encountered a few more on our way from Eklabhatti to Nyak Phedi.
The vegetation along the mountain walls were lush green with the blue waters of Budhi Gandaki making its way through the valley. There were many angles at which we stopped to have views of this picturesque landscape.
After Eklabhatti, the trail started moving down towards the river. It’s a familiar sign. It implied that we would be crossing the river to encounter a steep slope on its other bank. We came across a junction with two directions pointing towards two different routes. The one on the right was the trail to Tsum valley. It is a picturesque valley and the trek towards it offers exciting views and experience with local culture. It takes an additional 2-3 days to cover Tsum valley as a side excursion. Some trekkers moved ahead towards it as did herds of mules. We kept to left and kept moving down towards the river. The slope after the suspension bridge was very steep. Dhananjoy was already ahead of us and was out of sight. We could see the zig-zag trail going up the slopes with steep jumps. We took some rest before embarking on the climb, gulped down a few sips of water and started. The trail moved steeply up through a bunch of switchbacks. While crossing one at its lower end, we could see people on its higher reaches. All seemed to move in a serpentine queue as one sees in an airport emigration desk. The only difference being the ground, which is flat at the airport. Fatigue started to tell on us but we kept dragging on. This wasn’t a very good sign. The reason behind this was the long gap we had between breakfast and lunch, something the porters tried to convince us about, back in Eklabhatti. After reaching the top of the switchback trail, we came across a board. An arrow pointed up towards Nyak (claiming to be 2.5 hours way). Another pointed horizontally, but had a different name. We were confused. We were supposed to have lunch an Nyak, but the distance was way beyond our expectation. Our guide was somewhere down in the rear. Our wrath fell on Dhananjoy. Why couldn’t he wait for the rest? At least he should have waited at a junction like this where misadventures on a wrong trail can prove costly. After sometime, the guide made his appearance from behind and cleared our confusion. Nyak village is indeed, up the slopes, but, fortunately, we were headed to Nyak Phedi, which lay in the horizontal direction. We breathed a sigh of relief and forgave Dhananjoy and moved along.
We entered a tea house, totally tired with dreary steps with mice jumping up and down in our bellies. Dhananjoy was already there, enjoying some rest in the sunshine. We waited at the lunch table while our staple lunch of “dal bhat” was getting prepared. As soon as it was served, we jumped upon it. Vegetable curries and green chilies added to the appetite and we consumed in large quantities, probably a little more than desired, considering the length of the trail we had to cover after it. As we chatted around, our legs got some rest. After that, we hit the trail once again. This time around, with relatively fresh pair of legs. The route now moved through dense forests and we walked under canopy cover, which is always preferred after lunch. I kept an eye towards the sky to see any impending bad weather. Fortunately, clouds stayed clear and sunshine was abundant. As we walked along, herds of mules kept crossing us from both directions and we had to pave way for them. Reaching a safe place to be able to do that well before their arrival, proved to be a challenge for us at times. I was thinking what could be the last village on this route, beyond which, mules couldn’t reach. I hoped we don’t have to encounter them at the Larke Pass. My assessment was we were to encounter them till Dharamshala, the last destination before the pass on this side and we might encounter them again from the first village on our way down from the pass, all through the remaining part of the route. I kept thinking about different things as I moved along, till we reached a bend from where we could see the entrance gate of Deng. That gave some energy and I completed the last climb to cross the gate. Dhananjoy insisted on having a group snap and I agreed reluctantly, but my entire focus was to reach the tea house. After reaching Deng, we finally settled in our allotted rooms. Clothes, as usual were drenched and we hung them in the wires, just to console ourselves. After changing the warm-wears, the evening tea session ensued. The sequence of events at the tea houses were very predictable. Tea sessions took us to about 6.30 PM. 7 PM was the time for dinner. After dinner, there was the customary lecture of the guide about the plan for the morrow, followed by sips of warm water before we subsided to our beds. It wasn’t different at Deng too. The only prick in my mind was introduced by a statement from the guide, during his planning session. There was a land slide area just before entering Namrung, our next destination. That had to be negotiated carefully. He repeated the same set of instructions as he did in the morning before crossing the rockfall zone immediately after Jagat. That kept the niggle on in my mind and I started imagining ways to negotiate it. “Hold the stick hard, focus on your feet, do keep an eye up the hill to watch for falling rocks …” etc etc till sleep overpowered me. We were sleeping at 1800 m.
Previous night, our guide briefed us about the day’s plan at the dinner table. His English is difficult to follow and he doesn’t know Hindi. It proved challenging for us to follow his words, but as the trek went through, we got used to him. The plan for the day was to walk up to Machhakhola, the next destination on the route. This was the first day of trekking. I finished the breakfast with corn flakes and milk, while others had pancakes or muesli. It was time to stripe up our respective backpacks and get going. Everybody carried two bottles of lukewarm water with them. The bags were ready, accounts were squared up at the tea house, the sticks were in our hands and we were ready to hit the trail.
We strode past other lodges and the trail moved gradually upwards. Mist rose from the valley and surrounded us.
It was cold to start with and we had our jackets on. However, as the sun came out and slopes headed up, we felt the warmth and had to peel off. Niladri in fact stripped down to his half pant, a trend that would continue for the days we were on the lower reaches of the trail. The Budhi Gandaki roared down the gorge and kept its presence felt with the continuous sound of its torrents. The early morning mist gave way to bright sunshine with clear skies. Walking was a treat in such surroundings. The slope was gentle, the sunshine was bright. The lush green forests were soothing to our eyes. The trail was still wide enough and there were tracts of tyres clearly visible to us, indicating that Sotikhola was not the last destination accessible by vehicles. I recalled Tej Gurung’s words last year during our Annapurna trek. “Visit Manaslu before road construction erases the trail!”. Sings were now visible that over the years to come, days of walking will continue to get trimmed off with the advancement of road. We were told that a road was being constructed from Machhakhola to Larkya La (the highest point on this trail), meaning a large section of the circuit trail will become redundant in the coming years. The future of the tea houses will also be impacted. Similar fate has been witnessed on the Annapurna Circuit trail, which now requires just 2-3 days of walking. Tea houses at the lower reaches have been made largely redundant as trekkers can now directly reach Manang by road.
Villages were nestled amidst the high slopes of the mountains. Houses were surrounded by terraced fields. Villagers were at work in the fields. Some kids passed by on their way to local school. We carried lozenges with us and were generous about distributing them to the kids whom we met on our way.
Waterfalls kept coming down the slopes. Some even crossed our ways. We had to be careful while crossing them. Though the torrents were not fast, but they were deep and we had to cross them by placing our feet over the precariously placed rocks that dotted the streams.
The first four days of the trek were supposed to be long, approximately 18-19 kms a day. Today was the start of it. With the weather playing fine, people kept their camera shutters rolling, but we also had to keep an eye on the time. Our past experiences in the Himalayas told us that the fine weather may not last in the second half and it’s in our interest to get to the destination before that eventuality.
Budhi Gandaki kept company all along. On our way, we came across a local shop along the road side. Samosas were being fried. Immediately, we all flocked around the seller, who was a lady. The samosas were big. We got to see the raw materials stacked around which included fresh green peas, boiled vegetables and potatoes. These lured us. She fried the samosas and kept serving. The taste was heavenly. A pickle prepared by grinding green chilies, salt and some local spices added taste to the flavor. The price was nothing when compared to the size of the samosas, their taste and above all, the surroundings. After a few bends, we got to see the distant houses of the Machhakhola village.
Machhakhola would be the site for lunch. Initially, it was supposed to be the destination for the day, but en-route, our guide decided to carry on after lunch for another 1-2 hours. That should lead us to Khorla Besi and hence, curtail the distance for the morrow by the same amount. The plan sounded sensible and we agreed to it. After reaching Machhakhola, we ordered lunch, which was Nepalese thali that included rice, lentils, vegetables and green chilies. This is the staple food of Nepal across all regions and for most of our destinations along the route, we stuck to this diet. As we started off after lunch, a light drizzle started, which increased on our way and finally we had to pull out our raincoats. Dhananjoy was walking ahead of rest of us and soon moved out of sight. Clouds now moved in front and covered the hills surrounding us. With clouds coming on, the cold increased.
After walking for sometime, we saw Dhananjoy standing beside the road in a local shop. After reaching there, he dropped a bomb shell . He had left his water bottles at the tea house at Machhakhola. Our destination for the day was just ahead. The porters were reluctant to go back and fetch the bottles. After some deliberations, Dhananjoy himself went back. It was a tough ask at the end of the day, to go back the distance we just covered and repeat the same journey. It would take him at least two to three hours more. With all of us exhausted by the day’s walking, it was painful to even think of it, but he had no other option. We plodded ahead and reached Khorla Besi, a small village nestled amidst the hills with just a few tea houses. Our sweatshirts were drenched and we hung them on the wires, but with the moisture in the atmosphere, their chances of drying up were feeble. After arrival of Dhananjoy, Niladri pulled out the snacks and tea bags from his repertoire and we chatted along. Evening wore on and after dinner at 7 PM, we subsided to our rooms. We were sleeping at 1200 m.
5th November, 2019
I spent the previous evening sweating over how to get my clothes dried. Hanging them outside didn’t work, so I laid them under my blanket and slept over them (with the hope of my body warmth drying them up). However, they were still wet when I woke up the next morning. Getting clothes dried in time was crucial as we had to reuse them (may be not on successive days, but every alternate 2/3 days). Finally, Niladri gave the idea of hanging them on my back while walking. The days were usually bright and clear, so why not let the Sun do its job. 5th November, 2019 was the first day when I tried that option and it continued throughout the trek. Bags were packed and handed over to porters. Our morning tea session started with discussion about the day’s plan. It was a long one. To reach Jagat, our next destination, we’d have to walk about 20 kms and would take almost the entire day. We left Khorla Besi after breakfast at about 7 AM in the morning. The trail continued up along the banks of Budhi Gandaki amidst bright sunshine, traversing through the valleys, ravines and the gorges.
Sections of the trail were broken by land slides and the route was riddled with boulders, pebbles and loose grounds. We skid frequently, especially when the trail moved down towards the river bank. The views were ecstatic, but we had to focus on our feet while moving over unsettled grounds. The frequency of landslides, narrow trails, rock fall zones on this route gave a feeling that we humans are not always welcome in these “internal” areas of nature. As if it was giving us signs to stay away. It doesn’t like these relentless intrusions in its interiors in the form of ever increasing tea houses, tourists and the accompanying road construction. The trail now descended to the banks of the river, which roared down the gorges.
Herds of ponies kept crossing us and we had to make way for them. They are the lifelines to the upper reaches of the region. One has to be careful while encountering these herds. The trails are narrow and there’s no luxury of space. The ponies are often burdened with loads and they don’t tolerate any obstruction on their way as it’s very difficult to contain their momentum with loaded backs. Hence, it’s the pedestrians who have the make way for them on the way up or down. Things can get tricky on narrow blind bends. Since you can’t see the other side (hidden from your vision by the mountain walls), you may come across them unexpectedly. But the good thing is they have bells hung in their necks which keep ringing and can be heard from a distance. The moment you hear them, keep an eye to judge how far they are at the back or in front and whether you can cross the upcoming narrow passage before they reach that point. Paving way for them isn’t easy always as space is a luxury on these trails at many places and at times, you have to slant your body along the rising walls to give them passage. The key here is to reach a convenient point of passage early enough where you can stand decently and wait for them to cross instead of clamoring for space which can be precarious and dangerous at times.
The river gave us ample opportunities to shoot and our shutters kept rolling. People posed by standing on the boulders with the river in the background.
Boulders studding the river bed, bore the signs of the flowing torrent over the years which carved its own sculpture and pattern over them. After walking down the banks, we came across a suspension bridge which carried us to the other bank and a steep hike followed. We passed along villages where people were engrossed in their daily work. That mainly involved working in the fields, taming the roaming herds of goats to guide them to the pastures or towards home. Kids continued to cross our ways and we obliged them by distributing lozenges. Greetings of “Namaste” (a standard Nepalese respectful greeting) were exchanged. This greeting would gradually change to “Tashi Delek” (the Tibetan word for welcome) in the upper reaches inhabited by Tibetan refugees who came across the high mountain passes from trans Himalayan regions to settle in those areas after Chinese occupation of Tibet.
We gave a halt for sometime to drink water. Our guide informed that we were nearing our place for lunch. Another half an hour should lead us there. He gave us corn grains to chew. Apparently, this gives oxygen which is helpful in the higher altitudes. When we reached there, we saw just a few tea houses on the edge of a wide valley. The river Budhi Gandaki flowed through many streams spread wide across the huge valley that formed an amphitheater surrounded by hills. It was an exquisite place to have lunch.
We sat around the table as lunch was being prepared. The standard dal bhaat, the staple food of Nepal. Ranjan da pulled out his bottle of pickle made of green chilies. Every item on the menu was repeated as many times as we wished. We could see the walkway along the vertical rocky walls that rose above the valley of Budhi Gandaki.
This walkway deserves some mention. The earthquake of 2015 and the changing courses of the rivers had devastating effects on the trail to Jagat. At times, these events eroded large sections of the old trail. For quite sometime, the access to Jagat was through steep rising trails followed by sharp and dangerous drops. People from the valleys of Tsum, Nubri and other remote areas are heavily dependent on supplies and aids from the lower regions which were difficult to reach since the trail between Machhakhola and Jagat got severely damaged by the aforesaid events. Then, a Swiss company was tasked to make the trail safe in this section. After a superb display of engineering and an arduous effort put in by the locals, they came up with what is now called the walkway. It is a level steel bridge supported by angular structures clamped into the vertical rocky walls that rose up from the valley. After lunch, we resumed our walk and crossed a stoned stair case to reach the newly built walkway.
It was a treat to walk on this and we thanked the efforts of the people who built this. It was almost like walking along a level footpath in the high mountainous regions. After the end of it, another stone staircase brought us down to the valley again and a gradual trail followed which led us to the base of another suspension bridge that carried us to the other bank of Budhi Gandaki. Helicopters were making trips to the other side of the valley indicating the presence of a helipad nearby. After sometime we could see the distant houses of the village of Jagat. As we entered its outskirts, we were welcomed by a board of Manaslu Conservation Area Project (MCAP).
A map of the trek route was also on display with the prominent places, mountain peaks and passes marked out. Jagat is also the place where our permits would get checked. Our guide went to the MCAP office to have our permits checked.
We headed to our tea house. A single four-bedded room was allocated to us. Our bags reached there before. After changing to homewears, we sat on the beds with our usual tea and snacks session. Conversations involved our experience during the day, the new walkway, some friendly banters, leg pulling and the plan for the morrow, which would take us to the next destination Deng. The tea house had WiFi available and we called our respective homes to inform about our safe journey and health. A sense of relief, completion and satisfaction prevailed. After dinner, we went under the blankets. We were sleeping at 1370 m.
The previous night went in discussing with other members about the luggage they were taking along. Speaking to different members led to different opinions about the number of items to be carried along. There was one problem to cope with. We won’t be coming back to the place where we start from. It was a circuit trekking. Unlike previous occasions, Kathmandu (neither Pokhara) won’t figure on our way of return. Pokhara won’t come at all, while Kathmandu was to figure on the route, only on our way to the Manaslu circuit. This did have a bearing on the luggage as we couldn’t have dropped some at a place to recollect on our way back. Given that, we had to go through varying altitudes, the clothes, particularly warm-wear would vary accordingly. The thermal inner-ware is useless in lower reaches. We also had to keep an eye on the weight of our luggage to be humane towards the porters who would carry them along for about eleven days. After many deliberations, each of us narrowed down to our respective luggage – leaving out what we thought to be unnecessary.
Just after breakfast, Ranjan da came down to my place with a cab and we both headed towards Terminal 3 of Indira Gandhi International Airport. Dhananjoy was in touch with us all throughout. He started from his quarters and boarded the Airport Express Metro to reach Terminal 3. The boarding queue was long but finally, we made it through the check ins to the departure gate. We were careful with our seat selection in order to get window seats to get glimpses of the Himalayas as soon as the aircraft took off. Before boarding the aircraft, we spoke to Niladri on phone. His train was running late by an hour. After that conversation, he went out of contact as he entered Nepal from the Raxaul border. We were deprived of the views during the initial part as clouds held a veil in front of The Himalayas. The ranges of Garhwal and Kumaon eluded us, but gradually the clouds cleared up and once we were passing the ranges of Central Nepal, we could clearly identify Dhaulagiri, the peaks of the Annapurna range and the “double-edged” summit of Manaslu, our destination.
Unlike their Indian counterparts, the Nepal Himalayas didn’t disappoint. We had our eyes glued to the range as the aircraft went past them and started it’s descent towards the Kathmandu valley. We could see the valley surrounded by distant mountains, dotted with houses and fields. Temples and Monasteries stood out among them with their golden tops.
Before the trip, I started reading about the Annapurna expedition by the first climbing French team led by Maurice Herzog. Back then, the Kathmandu valley or for that matter, Nepal was a land of mystery offering limited access to the Western world. In order to reach Kathmandu, people had to travel by rail, then by road to a point. From there, a trek to cross a pass and again by road. But even this mode of transport couldn’t deter the royals from purchasing the modern cars or riding them on the streets of Kathmandu. Cars were carried by huge teams of porters (or coolies as they were called) who devised innovative ways of creating a platform of logs. The car used to be placed and fastened on top of that structure. This entire setup got carried by coolies through the roads, across and beyond the passes to Kathmandu.
We landed at the Tribhuvan international airport at about 1 PM, local time. It appeared all so familiar this time. The sky was clear with a very comfortable warmth of a November sunshine. A taxi took us through the Kathmandu streets towards Thamel, the tourism district of the city. We went past the Pashupatinath shrine on our way and reached the hotel Tibet Peace Inn. It is located just a few steps away from our place of stay for the Annapurna trip. After the formalities, we were served a welcome drink and then a local staff led us to our rooms. A few moments later, we ventured out to the streets of Thamel for lunch. Our plan was to have lunch and walk down to the Royal palace, about 3 kms from our place. After visiting it, the plan was to go to Basantapur Durbar Square, a must visit on the list of local sight seeings in Kathmandu. Hot, steaming momo served good for our lunch and after that, we started walking towards the Royal palace but as luck would have it, it was already closed for the day (we missed it by an hour).
Nevertheless, a few snaps in front of the palace, gave us some consolation and we started off towards Durbar Square. There was a glassy mall right opposite to the Royal palace. This, to me, came across as a sign of declining stature of the royals in Nepal, who, till a decade ago, commanded a lot of respect from the general public. In those days, it was impossible to have a commercial building obstruct the clear views of Royal palace from distance. But those heydays are a thing of past in contemporary Nepal. The statue of the former king Mahendra continues to adore the crossing in front of the royal palace. So do metallic sculptures of the kings Mahendra and Birendra, in the courtyard of the Pashupatinath temple.Unlike what some people said earlier, the Durbar Square turned out to be quite far from the Royal palace. We kept walking and asking the locals till we finally reached there. It was a slice of ancient Nepal amidst the modern streets of Kathmandu.
The area was dotted with ancient temples and structures all around. Tourists from all around the world thronged the place. Shopkeepers were busy luring them with their “best deals”. Tourists enjoyed the local street food and the numerous monkeys kept constant vigil with the hope of confiscating them.
Another attraction of the Durbar Square was the idol of Kal Bhairav – a deity that gets worshiped by locals, in the hope of warding off the evils.
After the visit to the Durbar Square, we came back to the hotel to await the arrival of Niladri. We had to be present before his arrival as there was no way we could communicate with him on phone. Finally, when his figure entered through the door, it seemed to me, once again, a slice of Kolkata, my native place, with a freshness, arrived in my life after about six months (since my last visit during the summers)! We ordered tea as soon as he arrived and a tea conference ensued (first of the many that would follow throughout the trip). Niladri pulled out some snacks from his bag, in which he carried a load of items that included tea bags and a steel mug for each one of us. All of these were a part of a strategy to reduce cost (food costs go extremely high, especially at the higher altitudes). The hotel had WiFi, which allowed us to contact our homes to announce our safe arrival. I gave a call to Tej Bahadur Gurung of Nepal Alternative Treks to inquire about our permits. We also had to meet him in the evening to submit our passports and pay our advances for him to arrange for our permits. We met him in the evening at his hotel to hand over our documents. He would send his men to the permit office the next morning and it could take till noon to get them done. After that, he’d arrange for a vehicle to take us to Sotikhola, which is where our trek would start from. We arrived in Kathmandu on a Saturday, the weekly off day in Nepal. That’s the reason, the permits had to be done the following day. After meeting Tej, we had our dinner at a local restaurant in Thamel and returned to the hotel. Plans were drawn up for a visit to the Pashupatinath shrine in the early morning, the next day.
3rd November, 2019
We woke up next morning and after the morning bath and a small tea session, we headed for the Pashupatinath shrine as planned on the previous day. The taxi took us through the dark streets of Kathmandu to the shrine. We walked down the lanes, all familiar since our visit last year. The temple courtyard was bustling with devotees and monkeys alike. After a visit of the idol, we started a walk around the courtyard (a Parikrama). It was all the same as before. The temple, the morning tolls of it’s bells, the chants by the priests and also, the cremation ground at it’s backyard. We crossed over the Bagmati river to it’s other side to have a view of the temple complex from elevated banks on that side.
On our way back to the hotel, we boarded a bus which took a different route that wandered through the streets of Kathmandu and dropped us at a place, from where we had to take a walk towards Thamel. On our way, we had breakfast. Finally, at about 11.30 AM, Tej Gurung gave us a call that our permits were ready. We took our bags to the place where the vehicle awaited us. We met our guide and one of the porters. Bidding goodbye to Tej Gurung, we started off on our journey. Another porter, Naveen, joined us en-route. The vehicle headed out of the Kathmandu valley along the highway to Pokhara. From Benighat, it left the Pokhara highway towards the town Aarughat. The afternoon was bright and the sun showered its golden rays over the paddy fields we passed by. The road started meandering up the slopes till it reached a point where Asphalt gave way to mud and boulders. We knew earlier that the secion of the road from Aarughat to Sotikhola was totally made of boulders, but it turned out that the stretch started much earlier, even before Aarughat. Evening was bearing on and we had to reach Sotikhola before dark. The vehicle kept bumping up and down on our topsy turvy ride. The road moved along the banks of the river Budhi Gandaki which came down the slopes with it’s water frothing along the rapids formed by it’s uneven bed. When we finally reached Sotikhola, the last trace of daylight was leaving the lower reaches of the valley, while the upper slopes of the surrounding hills still bathed in sunshine, a common phenomenon in the mountains. Our guide found a tea house and we subsided into our rooms. A tea session followed soon. Let me describe these tea sessions as it merits some mention. It usually started with Niladri puling out some tea bags from his repertoire. All of us then followed by pulling out some snacks (biscuits, chocolates, dates etc.) from our respective bags. We ordered a jug of hot water from the tea house. Mugs came out and tea got prepared by dipping the bags. Dhananjoy preferred having his tea bag dipped for at least 5 minutes before consumption. Apparently, that yielded a much better flavor (a fact which served as a basis of immense leg-pulling throughout the trip). It was then followed by candid discussions, friendly banters, leg pulling and plans for the coming days. We responded to a call for dinner at 7 PM to come out in the lawn in the chilly evening. The sky was pitch dark, studded with some stars. The guide gave us a lecture about the morrow’s plan (a pattern that would follow throughout the route). It had a fixed agenda and was spoken in a unique accent (more about it later) which was difficult to decipher. As per the plan, our next destination was Machhakhola. Finally, the day arrived when we’d hit the trail, once again! We subsided under blankets for the night. We were sleeping at 700 m.
During the concluding phases of our visit to the Annapurna Base Camp, we were thinking about what could be our next venture. The target was obviously Nepal as it houses half of the highest mountains in the world. Though we are not a group of climbers, so the rankings of mountains by their heights shouldn’t mean much to us, but there’s no doubting the fact that they add to the aura. More often than not, it’s likely that they’d have a route to their base camps and they normally go through a wide range of altitudes and varying landscapes. The name of the mountain that came up this time was Manaslu, the eighth highest mountain of the world. The name Manaslu translates to the meaning “mountain of the spirit“. It is derived from the Sanskrit word manasa which means soul or spirit. Firstly, it belongs to the famed 8000-ers (the mountain peaks that reach 8000 m or more) and secondly, this trail is not about going to the base camp and returning via the same route. It is about encircling the Manaslu massif with the route likely to take us through the varied landscapes, flora, fauna and the culture of the people inhabiting the villages that are sprinkled densely (at the lower levels) and sparsely (at the higher levels) along the route. For the first time, we’d be taking a route that will not be the same on our way back. That is to say, one our way up and down, we’d be traversing “different” places.
Mt Manaslu is the eighth highest mountain in the world with a height of 8163 m. It is a part of the Mansiri Himal (Himal: Sections or ranges of The Himalayas typically including many mountain peaks) lying in the Gorkha district of West-central Nepal. It lies about 64 km east of the Annapurna range of Central Nepal. Starting from Arughat to Larkya La (the highest point in the trek), the Manaslu region covers different climatic zones ranging from tropical & sub-tropical zones in the lower reaches, to temperate, sub-alpine and alpine zones. The flora and fauna varies accordingly. The valleys in the lower reaches are covered with lush green forests, which gradually pave the way for arid trans-Himalayan pastures finally reaching the snow line at its highest elevation at Larkya La, which is the passage from the Gorkha district to the Manang district or in other words, from the Manaslu Conservation area to the Annapurna Conservation area. The Manaslu Conservation Area Project was started in 1997 with the aim of conservation of natural resources and culture of the region.
There are many ethnic groups inhabiting the area, Nubri and Tsum being the primary two divides. The Gurungs inhabit the hills of the central area, while the Bhotias of Tibetan ethnicity can be found in the higher reaches dotted with serene monasteries, stupas and mani walls.
They say Mt Everest is the mountain of the British, but Mt Manaslu belongs to the Japanese. This is mainly derived from the fact that the majority of the initiatives to climb the former was driven by the British and ultimately, the expedition that tasted success for the first time, was also organized by them. Similarly, for the latter, the same applies to the Japanese (be it the majority of failed attempts, the first successful climb and even the first successful team of women on the mountain).
In 1950, H. W. Tilman led an expedition that trekked from the Kathmandu valley to Manang, which they used as a base camp to explore the valleys and mountains in and around the Annapurna massif. It was the same time when a French expedition team led by Maurice Herzog was exploring the regions between the Annapurna massif and the Dhaulagiri massif looking for options to climb any of the two who would lower their defenses first. While Maurice’s team tasted success on Annapurna Main, Tilman’s team made an unsuccessful attempt on Annapurna IV. During these efforts, when Tilman’s team was exploring the higher reaches of the river Dudhkhola, they were able to get a clear view of Mt Manaslu from Bimthang (now used as a stopover on the way down from Larkya La in the Manaslu Circuit Trek). Three months after that aborted attempt, Tilman, along with J. O. M. Roberts trekked to Larkya La and from there, had a clear view of Manaslu and its slopes. They concluded that there is a direct route to the summit, but they didn’t attempt it.
Between 1950-54, there were as many as four Japanese expeditions to the mountain. In 1952, a Japanese reconnaissance team visited the area after monsoons. The following year saw a Japanese team of fifteen attempting to climb the mountain via the east side by setting their base camp at Samagaun. But the expedition failed with four members of the team having to turn back after reaching 7750 m. The 1954 team had to face a group of hostile villagers at Samagaun who thought that the Japanese expeditions of the previous years have displeased the God, resulting in avalanches that destroyed the Pung-gyen monastery, killing 18 people in the process (now a side trek destination from Samagaun that gives exquisite views of Himalayan peaks including Manaslu). The team had to make a hasty retreat Ganesh Himal. They made generous donations towards rebuilding the monastery, but that failed to please the local inhabitants. Finally, in the year 1956, on May, the 9th, Toshio Imanishi of Japan and Sherpa Gyaltsen Norbu made the first successful ascent of Manaslu. This team too, had to face the wrath of local population (a leftover of previous expeditions). The next successful climb was only in 1971, again by a Japanese team, lending weight behind the term “Japanese mountain”. The next year, 1972, saw the first climb via the South-West face by Reinhold Messner. The same year saw one of the deadliest accidents on the slopes of Manaslu. Fifteen members of a Korean expedition were killed when an avalanche buried their camp at the height of 6500 m. In this topsy turvy history, if there were some lows, certainly there were some highs too. The year 1974 saw the first team of women succeed on the mountain. An expedition led by by Kyoko Sato, a team comprising of the climbers Naoko Nakaseko, Masako Uchida and Mieko Mori successfully climbed Manaslu on 4th May along with Jambu Sherpa. They were also the first team of women to climb any 8000 m peak.
A trek that now spans for 163 km, starts from Sotikhola and ends at Dharapani, on the Annapurna circuit route. The trek follows an ancient salt-trading route along the gorges of the Budhi Gandaki river. The slopes are steep in the lower regions till one reaches the village of Deng. The lower reaches go through dense forests amidst the river gorges and offers ample views of gorgeous waterfalls.
The slopes start becoming more gradual after Deng, after which, views of snow-capped Himalayan peaks start to appear. The village of Lho offers the first view of the double edged summit of Mt Manaslu.
After that, the route travels through the forests of the Syala village (that offers a 360 degree view of Himalayan peaks) to a slight descent to Samagaun, lying on the eastern base of Manaslu. After Samagaun, a flat trail with a steep rise at the end takes one to Samdo, the highest village in the Budhi Gandaki valley. The trail after that is along another valley bordering Tibet taking one to Dharamsala, the base for night halt before attempting to cross Larkya La, the next day. After crossing the pass, the trail enters the Annapurna Conservation area to descend to BimThang and then moving further down to Dharapani following the banks of Dudhkhola. From Dharapani, one can take a jeep ride to Besisahar. The trek takes you from an altitude of 600 m to a maximum height of 5106 m (Larkya La).
We returned from Nepal after completing the Annapurna Base Camp trek making a pledge to return to the Manaslu region next year. At the turn of 2019, I reached out to my regular companions Dhananjoy De, Niladri Sekhar Guha and Ranjan da (Ranjan Ghosh). They are the ones who have accompanied me in all my earlier ventures to Nepal. This time around, we were cautious about reaching out to others. We did reach out to other members of the erstwhile Annapurna team, but they were not able to make it for different reasons. But, unlike on last occasion, we didn’t try to convince many people and were content to limit ourselves to the “core four”. Our usual queries started flowing in different directions. Some to the tour operator, others to internet. People started watching videos about the trek. The views on the offering made us exited even more and plans were drawn out. Initially, we wanted to include Tsum valley, but had to drop the idea because of time constraints. According to the final plan, Niladri was to start from Kolkata on 1st November (a Friday) on a train to reach Raxaul on 2nd. He was to reach Kathmandu, the same day in the evening. The rest of us were to take a morning flight to Kathmandu on 2nd November. One the 3rd, we were to travel by a jeep to Sotikhola. The trek was to start on 4th. Successive days were to see us scaling heights and 13th was supposed to be the D-Day, i.e. the day to cross Larkya La. The bugle calls were on and so was our journey to the Himalayan nation Nepal for a third time on a trekking adventure! In my upcoming posts, I intend to take you through the journey through the gorges of Budhi Gandaki and Dudhkhola.
As I heard the birds chirp in the surroundings, I pulled myself out of the sleeping bag, juggled along to make some way and unzipped the front of the tent to peep outside. A mild brightness spread across the sky just enough to mark the outlines of the mountains. I gradually came out of the tent. The chill was strong but enjoyable. After putting a quick glance around, I headed towards the nearby bushes with a bottle of water in my hand. After brushing my teeth as soon as I splashed water on my face, it felt like prickles from a thousand needles. After that, I went to the tent to wake up others. They cuddled in their sleeping bags enjoying their sleep that came very late last night due to unaccustomed surroundings. I let them continue with their sleep for some more time as the day’s walk was not supposed to be long (as per our guide Arvind, it was only about 1.5-2 hours). I took my camera and ventured around for some photography. The sky started to light up with the bright sun rays falling on the Mountain peaks of the Bhagirathi range. But these places don’t offer golden views of sunrise as the sun rises from behind the mountains. Finally, the entire meadow bathed in bright sunshine. So was Mt Bandarpoonch.
I woke up my wife and daughter. I had to push them to come out, but once they did, they felt much better in the bright sunshine. They got themselves prepared, which basically meant brushing the teeth and answering nature’s calls. Bathing was out of question. We went inside the shepherd hut behind the tent, which acted as the kitchen and breakfast was served. A couple of parathas with hot tea provided the much needed warmth.
After breakfast, it was time to strap the backpacks and hit the trail. The route moved through the meadow to ascend gradually into the forests along the higher slopes. We entered the woods and once again we were walking under the canopy. The slope was gradual and walking was easy. Now that she got used to it, my daughter too, wasn’t complaining. The bright sun rays of the morning trickled through the canopy and played hide and seek along the tracks which traversed through the woods. A breeze kept flowing with a mild chill (which is normal in the autumn season in these parts of the Himalayas). Winters were knocking at the doors.
I had a look at the trail ahead. Our guide Arvind pointed towards the top of the hill we were ascending. There, just beyond the tree line, lay our destination. It didn’t seem very far. The plan was to reach there by noon, have our lunch and spend sometime settling in our tents and then head off towards the adulating meadows of Dayara Bugyal.
As the trail moved up the slope, the forest started thinning out. The intensity of solar rays increased with reduction of the canopy cover and so did the heat, though it wasn’t at the levels as felt the day before during the afternoon. Partly because it was morning and partly because we got used to the trail, the members felt better.
During the trek, I kept comparing the facilities available in Nepal with the Himalayas in India. There, in Nepal, one can expect to find a well managed tea house throughout the route, even in places as high as Gorakshep, which is just shy of the Everest Base Camp. At the Annapurna Base Camp trekking route, one can even stay at a tea house. But here, in Garhwal Himalayas, even in routes like Dayara Bugyal which fare nowhere in terms of remoteness or altitude, one has to be content with staying at tents. In a way, it is good as it doesn’t impact nature or its resources as much as it does in well frequented routes of Nepal. Proximity and accessibility brings its own set of drawbacks to quiet abodes of nature. The route, by now was devoid of any forest as we crossed the tree line. The peaks of the Bhagirathi range was visible on the horizon and so was Mt Bandarpoonch.
After a few more steps, we could see the shepherd huts and we knew we had reached our destination. We sat there to have some rest. Arvind gave us mugs of steaming hot tea, which was so refreshing for our tired bodies. The porters already started to erect our tents. They were being erected on a lower ground, just where the slope from the huts descended to. The hut was to act as kitchen and the place of stay for the porters and guide Arvind. They wasted no time and got started with preparing the lunch.
The place where we our tents were put up, was just before the start of the seemingly endless adulating meadows of the Dayara Bugyal. They chose this place because of proximity to streams of water, which is a crucial factor in determining places of halt. Lunch got served quite early. After that we settled in our tents for sometime to have some rest but Arvind reminded us to head for the bugyal in the afternoon with enough sunlight to enjoy. So, despite our desire to rest for some more time, we heeded to his calls and went out for the meadows. Beyond the huts, the path moved up gradually and took a turn around the bend. As we turned around the corner, endless slopes of adulating fields greeted us. As if the surrounding forests were making their advances from lower hills to cover these tops, but came to a halt suddenly to give way to endless grasslands which form the favorite pastures for herds of sheep and goats of the villagers.
These high altitude meadows of the Himalayas often are self-contained ecosystems and are homes to many endemic species (i.e. species that are found only in specific meadows and nowhere else). Right after winters and before the monsoon, these meadows get covered with numerous flowers with varied colors. One cannot move around in these fields without stepping on the floral beds. Hence, the forest departments take care to protect these species and their habitat. Increasing number of tourists and camping on these grounds often cause danger to the survival of these species, which, if not protected, will become extinct. Ever increasing human activities and related deforestation and cultivation have cut out the connection between these meadows and most of the species housed by them are not found elsewhere.
We roamed around the fields aimlessly, taking a look at the surroundings. This wasn’t the time of flowers, but the meadows, nevertheless, were picturesque. The afternoon rays of sun glorified the fields. The slopes went down on one side leading to the forests, beyond which, lay the gorge of The Ganges. The hills on the other side of the river moved up till they gave way to the snow peaks of the Bhagirathi range.
The entire meadow was devoid of any sound, beyond the reach of any modern civilization and its allied fallacies. I climbed up the slopes of some of the hillocks to get views from different angles. Though it wasn’t the time of the year when flowers bloom in these meadows, I could still see some remnants with some peeping out from the grasses.
The solar rays changed their angles and so did their colors, which started to play their part on the distant snow peaks. Gradually, shadows started to move along the long distant fields of the Dayara Bugyal giving an indication that the sun was about to exit the sky.
Arvind showed me the trail that moved up towards Bakharia top, our destination for the next morning before we head down towards Barnala. The extent of the meadows seemed endless. He talked about a trekking route wherein one can traverse the Bugyal and descend towards Yamnotri. Another variation of that route can take one to Dodi taal and further ahead, to Yamunotri. There are numerous trekking routes in these parts of the Himalayas, some of them even cut across the watershed between the Ganges and the Baspa river to descend into Chitkul of the Sangla valley in the neighboring state of Himachal Pradesh. While I was chatting with Arvind, my wife and daughter started feeling the chill of the evening winds as the sun was fading out fast. I urged them to move ahead towards the huts. As they moved along, I trained my lenses on the peaks to capture sunset views.
Herds of sheep started to come down one of the slopes towards the huts. They were returning after enjoying a full day of grazing on the distant meadows. As they crammed to move into the huts, their bleats of different pitches coming from animals of varying age groups filled the skies. They hopped around and over the rocks and uneven slopes to move ahead. Two strong dogs kept a strict vigil on the group ensuring the herd sticks together.
The peaks acquired a tinge of yellow, which successively turned golden, crimson and finally all white after the sun bowed down.
As I came back to the huts, I saw my wife and daughter enjoying the bonfire that had been lit up by the porters. I was welcomed with a steaming mug of tea. The chill in the air was significant which prompted all of us to subside into the huts. One has to bend the back considerably to be able to get a passage inside. The cooks were already into their act preparing for the night’s dinner. Some lentils were being prepared over a burning earthen oven. We sat beside it. The warmth from the oven gave us comfort. After dinner, we headed to our tents. On this second night in the tents, it felt less uncomfortable as we got used to it. Since it was only 7 PM, we spent sometime playing ludo using our headlight torches. Sleep was peaceful as there wasn’t any dog to move around.
As I ventured out of the tent, next morning, a dazzling Mt Bandarpoonch gave a hearty welcome. After breakfast, I headed towards the meadows once again while rest of the family moved down along with the support staff towards Barnala, an hour and a half of walk down the slopes. We took the turn around the same bend and then started moving up the slopes. It was a different route that moved up and down the hillocks. The meadows were bathing in bright sunshine and the lush green fields resembled a freshly laid carpet.
The bugyal was at its best in the bright sunny morning. As we moved ahead, my walk got increasingly interspersed by small flowers that peeped out of the lush green fields and I took time to focus my lenses on them.
The flowers were so small yet so beautiful. It was a tough time to get still snaps as they continued to shiver in the chilling morning breeze.
After going a long way, I realized that the Bakharia top was still far away. A quick look at my watch prompted me to turn around. The further we go, the more we’d have to traverse on our way back and the day’s target was to descend to Barnala. So we headed back.
As we started our descent beyond Dayara Bugyal, forests made their reappearance and once again, we were walking under canopy cover. After walking for about an hour, we came to a small lake with a temple beside it. By the looks of it, I recognized it to be Barnala (thanks to the pictures from the internet). But I couldn’t see any trace of either the porters or my family. Arvind walked up the nearby hillock to have a look at the valley below and he recognized their location at once. I glanced a look beyond his shoulders down into the valley and I could see them too. The mules grazed around and the porters got engaged with work. My daughter was roaming around freely in the small patch of ground. But all of that was a silent film that was being played out at a distant place down in the valley with no sounds reaching us. We continued our descent and finally reached there. Our tent was already erected. It was picturesque setup with tent almost lying in the middle of no where. Dense forests surrounded the entire place.
After lunch, we roamed around the place. Fresh breeze running through the pine forests carried their fragrance to us. It was leisure that was written all around. But that was for us as the porters and cooks were constantly engaged. After lunch, they got started with preparations of evening tea and snacks. They promised to treat us with fried onions and potatoes along with the evening tea. While it lifted our spirits immediately, it wasn’t an easy task to provide such comforts at these places. Materials and rations for all that gets served at these altitudes, have to be carried all along from the towns below. They either need to be carried on backs of mules or by porters all the way up.
We roamed around freely and enjoyed the views at our disposal. The peaks of the Bhagirathi range were visible through the gaps between the otherwise thick pine forests. Another herd of sheep and goats made their way down the slopes from the meadows above. They raised the same symphony of bleats of different pitches. The rusty shepherds and their sturdy dogs kept tight vigil on the herd.
As the herd made their way through the forests into the lower villages, evening wore on with the familiar shades of color being played out on the distant snow peaks resulting in yet another colorful sunset.
We couldn’t remove our eyes from the colorful play on the distant peaks. Darkness covered the forests nearby but the sun was still lightening up the peaks on the northern horizon.
After darkness came upon, we moved towards our tents. Bonfire was already setup and our cooks handed out cups of hot teas accompanied by fried onions and potatoes. We enjoyed the treat thoroughly in the chilling atmosphere. While they went back to prepare the dinner, we went inside our tent. The tent had almost transformed into our small home away from home. We had worked out how to sit and arrange ourselves in the small space available. While we were playing ludo, I heard sounds of water droplets on the roof of the tent. Before long, it started raining intensely. Just as we were thinking about how we could go to the kitchen tent for our dinner amidst heavy rains, we heard sounds outside our tent and saw lights. The cooks and the porters came up to our tent with our dinner. I was simply spellbound by their hospitality in these harsh conditions. They braved the downpour in the chilling night to serve our dinner right at our doorstep. That night we went to sleep with not just peace, but respect for the large hearts that these poor and simple people possess.