outdoors – Break shackles

The Barun valley – spirits chased us out?

29th October

When I woke up, rain was falling hard on the roof. As I made my way to the toilet via the dining space to venture into the backyard, I found it filled to the brim. Members from other groups sneaked in every corner of it to find space to sleep. As we readied ourselves, rain kept falling incessantly. It was still falling thick and hard when we went for breakfast. Fortunately, our clothes were dried up to wear them on. We covered us with our ponchos, took up our sticks and ventured out into the rain. By now it had reduced in intensity. The track went down through stair cases towards Tashigaon, which wasn’t visible today, thanks to the dense clouds. Just as we went down a bend, I realized we missed the payment for a dish. We had it the previous evening. The lodge was still visible and so was its owner. I shouted out to her mentioning that. She replied that she waved that as a complimentary offer to us.

With that jovial mood, we almost ran down the stairs to reach Tashigaon as fast as possible. We were eager to reach there as fast as possible. We haven’t seen Raju since he left the lodge at Shipton La. Kunal jokingly said that he’d meet us straight at Kathmandu, not before that. Nevertheless, he was there to greet us when we finally reached Tashigaon! We had plans to spend a day here to bask in the sunshine. But now our focus was to get out of the area as fast as we could to get beyond the reach of the clouds. Last evening, at the lodge, we heard many members speaking about abandoning their treks looking at the weather conditions. We heard that the weather forecast wasn’t great for next few days. More rain and snow was in store. We wondered, what would be the fate of the Sherpani Col expedition.

Lunch at Tashigaon was cosy & comfortable. While having lunch, Raju shared his experience. He didn’t stop at Danda Kharka as the “spirits were still with him”. He felt so suffocated that a Lama from the local Tashigaon monastery had to be summoned. He pronounced that spirits inhabited his body and had to be extracted out. Apparently it was the Lama’s magic which made them leave his body. Only that made him feel better. Raju vowed never to embark on such treks again! The rain by now turned into a drizzle and then stopped. We saw the room where we stayed on our way up. Memories came back. The lodge owner informed us about their relative who owned a lodge at Seduwa. It had charging facilities as well as hot showers. Her younger daughter Dzangmu was going back to her hostel. She went along with us on our way down. She was to guide us to the lodge at Seduwa. Our trail went through the alleys and fields of Tashigaon.

We watched along while the villagers went about their daily cores. The trail moved up & down and finally joined the main trail to Seduwa. Afternoon wore in as we walked past the villages on the route. We came upon a bunch of sheep & goats who were scattered in the surrounding forests, feasting on the leaves. Their shepherd was trying to herd them together to take them to their shed before darkness set in. We stopped for photography. They were scattered in the bushes. Some were even atop the branches. The whole place buzzed with their bleats. Clouds hung over the fields. They looked ominous with their darkened looks but also provided a spectacular background for the ripened millet. These millet swayed in the flowing breeze.

On our way down, we met a traveler. He was one of the members of the group we met at Khongma, the day before. We were taken aback to see him turn his back. Looking at the weather, anticipating heavy snow at the higher altitudes, he took his decision to turn around. While the rest of his friends kept going. From him, we came to know about other groups who dropped their plans.

We took the same shortcuts, passed by that volleyball field and the familiar alleys of Seduwa. That’s when suddenly my right knee got a cramp! Thereafter, the rest of the trail I kept limping along. A walk that should have taken hardly 30 minutes, took me 1.5 hrs. Kunal, Raju & Anil kept company with me. When we reached the lodge, a disappointed Dhananjoy declared that none of what was told at Tashigaon held true. But the good thing is he had already discovered another one which was much better. Though it meant walking down another 20 minutes, it also meant a comfortable stay closer to the road head. We finally entered into the lodge. Thus our walk came to an end for this trek. My legs almost gave up. After changing into room wears, cleaning our faces & applying moisturizers, energy returned. I made calls to my home & some friends. They were eager to hear about our experience & I was happy to oblige them. The evening just flew by partying & dancing. Beer kept flowing like the Arun river & we finally went to our rooms.

We called Raju & the porters to hand out tips. They happily accepted them & went away. The story wasn’t over though. After sometime Raju knocked at our door. Apparently, porters weren’t happy with the tips and requested some more. I had every reason to believe that it was Raju, rather than porters, who caused this. We didn’t complain and he got what he wanted. We brushed it away & went under the blankets.

30th October

We woke up to a misty morning. Fog engulfed the entire landscape. The good news was that our vehicle was ready to ply. We could hear its sound. After loading it with our luggage, we embarked on our journey through the bumpy roads on a misty morning. The driver carefully negotiated the rough terrain. He made stops along the way. He asked the locals if they needed anything to be fetched from the lower regions of Khandbari or Tumlingtar. Connectivity is challenging for these remote areas and many items of daily needs have to fetched from lower regions. So, if anyone traveled, its an unspoken rule that he/she would fetch items needed by others. On this time though, multiple call outs fell on deaf ears. We moved on. After sometime, the horrendous stretch of the road ended and we entered a relatively less bumpy (though still rough) section. We started moving down the slopes. We reached the section where we got our first glimpse of the mighty Arun river. A wide and mad stream of torrent made its way through the gorge with a ferocious sound. Dangerous beauty as they call it. It has swollen further due to the incessant rains for the past few days. We stopped the vehicle and moved out to soak in this awe-inspiring beauty!

After sometime, we stopped at Num to have breakfast. Then came Khandbari and our bumpy road ended. The smooth serpentine road now moved through the green fields, freshly bathed in the rains. The anticipation of reaching Tumlingtar, the sole airstrip in the area, lifted our spirits. As we neared Tumlingtar, cultivation fields gave way to forests. The trees appeared rejuvenated with greener foliage. The vehicle finally reached the town of Tumlingtar. There lies the little building near the airstrip! As it turned out, our place of stay was right behind the wired boundary of the runway. But with that came the bad news. No flight has landed at Tumlingtar today. Though we suspected this, but this was the first confirmation. If flights haven’t landed today, they won’t do tomorrow either, given the weather forecast. That led us to look for other transport. We canceled the air tickets and booked tickets for a bus instead. It would start at 2 PM tomorrow. After an entire night’s travel, it would take us to Kathmandu at around noon, the next day. A travel for about 15 hours. But this would allow us to have a comfortable sleep at the Kathmandu hotel. We would get the much needed rest before boarding the international flight on 2nd November. After almost 2 weeks, we got a chance to take showers and we utilized the opportunity to the fullest. Decent washrooms, warm showers and a good lunch cheered us up. After lunch, we ventured out to roam around Tumlingtar, its local shops, the market and of course, the airstrip. Nowhere else in the world, one can see such an airstrip. With no flights expected, the airport staff locked up their offices. They walked out of the premises to head for their homes. Compare that to airports at Delhi or any other Indian city or even to that of Kathmandu. We had ice creams. It was great to taste such “delicacies”. It started raining in the evening and the drizzle converted into a heavy shower. News came from other groups about abandonment of their attempt for Makalu base camp. My worries increased. Thunders and lightning also joined the forces of the rain at night. With flights abandoned, roads were our last resort. Such rains could derail our plans. We were at the end of our leaves. We had to resume our work from the 3rd (a Monday). There was absolutely no room left. After a good night’s sleep (at 401 m), we woke up to another gloomy morning. The drizzle was still on. The room next to ours’ was occupied by two Chinese persons. They accumulated a huge dump of Rudraksh beads (seeds from the Elaeocarpus Ganitrus tree). These beads are strung into a garland and are then used as prayer flags among Hindus and Buddhists. They fetch a high price as they’re considered sacred by the devoted. The Chinese were here to tap into that business.

We resumed our journey at 4 PM (instead of 2, as stated earlier). We were told that seats were reserved for us in the front. However, we soon found out that it had no meaning. The bus stopped at multiple places in Tumlingtar and people started pouring in. We had to rebuff requests to make way for others. Since we stood our grounds, we sat with “relative” comfort, while others were stashed in like poultry. The bus made its way through the streets of Tumlingtar and entered the highway. It winded down the serpentine roads amid the cloudy afternoon. As we moved along the bends, a wide valley opened beside us. The Arun river made its way through the valley to the lower regions. The Arun river’s flow amid the valley under the cloud cover created a picture that still stays on. We’ve never visited this Eastern part of Nepal, which was very different from its other parts. Gradually, evening wore on. The bus kept moving. We halted at multiple places for tea, fuel and dinner. The night went by in half-sleep. When we hit the familiar streets of Kathmandu, relief set in.

1st November

It was at 9 AM, we reached our hotel. It was so pleasing to see the same staff. We were in a different world for the last fortnight and were now returning among our friends! The mutton curry at lunch was so delicious, that we ordered extra quantities. All of that vanished in no time! The balance settlement of payment with Raju turned unpleasant. Apparently, he estimated and quoted less. We expected to get some returns. This was especially true when our return by flight got converted into a bus ride. However, he had none for us. We let it go to avoid further unpleasantness, but the incident didn’t leave a good taste. We brushed aside and went for a temple visit near the Pasupatinath shrine.

We finally bade goodbye to Raju over a table of beers. I had a mixed feeling towards him. Was it the same Raju who accompanied us to the Everest and Annapurna base camps? But things do change and not always for good. He may have had his share of troubles. Nevertheless, a long awaited trail was completed and we must thank him at least for that. News started trickling in. Weather conditions have forced a shut down at the Makalu base camp. At least one trekker went missing. Did we offend Makalu in some ways that it let its agents behind us. It may not have been the spirits as Raju thought, but at least the clouds, the incessant rain and the heavy deposits of snow. It felt as if it was saying, “You’re the last ones I’ve tolerated. You better move out fast. I want some tranquility in my premises.”. We bowed respectfully and followed its orders. We bade goodbye and hoped to receive a call again in some other parts of the Himalayas.

Earlier

The Barun valley – Langmale

Earlier

24th October

We entered Phemathang under darkness amid the roaring sound of the Barun river. I was the first to wake up at 4 AM. The dark sky was littered with numerous stars. But the bitter cold air, laden with moisture from the river, didn’t allow to enjoy it. I almost ran for the toilet. I was pleased to be back in bed to enjoy the rest of my sleep. These early alarms pose a challenge to wake up. After completing my morning duties, I get an additional hour of sleep. I enjoy this extra rest while others go about their activities. Brushing the teeth proved challenging as it meant applying ice cold water to my face. The soft light started to make inroads into the valley.

On the northern horizon, the sky was acquiring brightness. There, beyond the left edge of the hills, the crown of Makalu was visible. It was our next meeting with that mountain after the Khongma La. The surrounding was serene except for the roaring sound of the Barun river’s torrent. We went down towards the gorge. The river came down in leaps and bounds creating massive rapids. The vibration against the walls amplified the roar as the river forged it’s way down through the valley. A long way down somewhere it meets the Arun river which has it’s source in Tibet. The entire stream of the Barun river freezes in winter. After the Barun river submits all its discharge into the Arun, Arun takes over the baton. It then carries the combined discharge through the lower valleys of Sankhuasabha.

*The Barun river, Phemathang*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

We followed our plan and had breakfast. Afterward, we wrapped some packed lunches (of rolled chapati and jam) in our day packs. Then we started the journey. That is because, beyond Yangle Kharka (the next place of halt), there aren’t any other lodges before Langmale. Actually, there is a lodge after Yangle but it is closed now. We saw a sick lady at Phemathang who was the owner of that lodge. She was going down to her village in the lower valley to recuperate. After the usual ceremony of a group photograph, we started our journey. The trail went gradually ahead along the banks of the river. We couldn’t see it because of the elevated height of the gorge. However, we kept hearing its sound getting louder. After some more walking, we reached a bridge over the river. The bridge transported us to the right side of the Barun river and the trail started moving up.

*En-route Yangle Kharka*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

Given that we were in the valley, the route moved through the forests. This was at contrast to the trail yesterday which was above the tree line, over the passes. As we moved along, the Barun river kept company. The depth between the trail and the flowing river kept decreasing and after sometime Barun was flowing by our side. The valley started to open up. The Barun now appeared to flow along flat ground, distributed in multiple small and large streams. Just then, at the corner of a bend, a writing on a wooden board declared “Yangle Kharka”. There was a check post of the Makalu Barun National Park. A single official sat in the small room. I wondered how he must feel to spend his entire day in this room. It is far away from the rat race of life in the middle of nowhere. His only companions would be the surrounding mountains. The distant stream of Shivadhara falling almost from heaven and the streaming Barun river. Kharka means a meadow in the Nepalese language. Yangle was indeed one.

*Yangle Kharka, picture courtesy, Dhananjoy De*

The lodge was on the right with a set of rooms. One of the rooms advertised the facility of a hot shower, the first of it’s kind on this trail. Shivadhara is a sacred waterfall in this region. The legend says that Lord Shiva created this waterfall with a stroke of his trishul. It falls from a height of about 500 m from a hole in a cave. The route towards it diverts from a place beyond Yangle and that trail is challenging. There’s a section where one has to step over wooden planks fixed on a vertical wall. I’ve watched videos about it and kept it out of our syllabus. It also required more days. We saw many local groups heading for that place. It’s considered a sacred pilgrimage in this part of Nepal.

We spent sometime in the wide meadow. The sun was shining bright. We had to cross the meadow to reach it’s corner. While doing so, we crossed many small streams. These were some of the numerous tributaries of the main stream of the Barun river. It flowed along the remote edge of the valley. We moved amid many small rocks spread among white sand. The surface of the ground indicated that they were part of the river bed in the past. It flowed through these areas. There’s no reason why it should not change its course again. The rocks had brown and red pigments making the sight beautiful. We saw it acquire shades of gold and crimson when we crossed this area on our way back. After sometime we entered the forest once again. The trail now had a consistent tree cover. It came in and out of the forest to kiss the banks of the Barun river.

Then came a set of staircases. After ascending them, we walked along flat ground under the shadows of tall trees. We saw clouds coming along and the sun soon started playing hide and seek. Just as the clouds started to take control, we moved out of the forest into another meadow. The trail was lined by rocks. It went through the meadow that was dotted with small bushes and trees. The diverted into two parts from a junction. A huge red cross was marked among the rocks in one direction. Hence we took the other direction.

*En-route Langmale Kharka*, *picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

It was about 12 when we stopped by a hut to have our lunch. The rolled chapatis hardened and we had a tough time to tear them into pieces. Once done, the pieces had to be forced down our throats, often with the help of water. Taste was unimportant, filling the stomach was. As soon we stopped walking, the cold winds started. This often causes a dilemma. Walking causes you to sweat, forcing to take off your jacket or hat, but halting brings the cold back. I repeated the spells of taking warm wears off and on, causing much inconvenience for the guide. Raju was walking with me and always helped me with these interchanges by holding my day pack. Beyond the bushes, the trail moved into a landslide area. Before that, we went past a closed house. We met the owner of this house in Phemathang in the morning. I stopped for a moment to have a look at the route ahead. It went through multiple landslide areas to reach at a base. There was huge jump in elevation at that point. Beyond that, the terrain wasn’t visible from where I stood. Beyond the horizon, huge massifs of the Himalayan peaks formed the skyline. We recognized Mt Nepo, Mt Chamlang and other peaks.

But Makalu wasn’t visible. Langmale lay somewhere on that elevated plateau. For us, the immediate milestone was to reach the top of that plateau. This was our second traverse of landslide zones after the one we crossed before reaching Phemathang. It didn’t appear that scary on this occasion despite being at a higher altitude. The daylight had a role to play and so did our state of mind. They kept coming one after another. For each, we had to cross a stream of debris. Boulders of different size & shape stood as obstacles and we circumvented or tiptoed over them. Some of them didn’t like our presence and threatened to topple us, but we finally managed to reach the base of the elevated plateau. It was a sight of wreckage and destruction. The trail rose through an ensemble of boulders and pebbles in leaps and bounds. We followed along with careful steps. On our way we came across a group of trekkers from Bengal on their way down. All of them were above 60 years in age. They shared their experience at the base camp. Their description of the route and the views lifted our spirits. They bade good luck and we moved in our respective directions. One part of my mind envied them as their milestone was fulfilled. Another part pitied them since their joy was over.

Barun hid from our view as we embarked on our upward journey. It was a series of steps trying to reach the zenith. Weather was cloudy and winds started blowing. I also felt a few drops on my body. That’s something I dreaded as no one wants to get wet. Fortunately, the precipitation remained constrained to a few drops here and there. The area was totally devoid of any vegetation. We moved through heaps of boulders whose appearance bore proof of instability. A quick glance around tells that nothing is permanent in this landscape. The slopes became gentler. That told us that we were reaching the top. The sights of roof tops of the first lodge gave us relief. As we started going towards it, Raju screamed from behind to urge us to move ahead. There was another lodge at a higher altitude. We saw our porters, Anil and Manoj coming down the slopes to greet us. After starting at 7:45, we reached Langmale at 15:00. We were allotted a room that could host six persons. It had 6 beds and we used some of them to spread our luggage. It was good, cosy and a luxury under the circumstances.

*Langmale Kharka, picture courtesy, Kunal Kishor*

After settling in and changing clothes, we headed for the dining area. This was the first lodge on this route. It could match with their counterparts in the famed trails of Nepal in terms of comforts. Like other routes in Nepal, this lodge’s dining area was bustling. It was filled with trekkers, their guides, and porters. We somehow could lay our hands on a pack of cards and games were underway. Tea was served after sometime and it was accompanied with fried potatoes. They were spiced up to our taste. We enjoyed the taste thoroughly. That prompted me to order for it at dinner time as well. We were engrossed in the warmth of the dining space. A chimney was constantly being fed with dried yak dung cakes and fire. Suddenly, we realized that the windows of our room were open. By that time, it was late evening. When I entered the room, most of our clothes were moistened. The mist had made its way through the open windows. I cursed myself as I found the surfaces of the beds were also moist. Losing calm over what has already happened was of no use and I closed the windows to prevent further damage. Back at the dining area, the card games were fully on. We met the owner of the lodge. He was a skilled Sherpa mountaineer. His summit credits include Mt Everest. They also include other peaks over 8000 m in altitude. We were relieved to know that he also owns one of the lodges at the base camp. That’s where we were slated to stay. We were served dinner and that’s when I realized my mistake. I ordered a full plate of fried potatoes which was way beyond my capacity. In the evening, three of us shared a plate, but Dhananjoy opted for Yak soup and Kunal, something else. I kept coaxing them into sharing my dinner and they partially obliged. I managed to delegate some of the rest to our guide and porters. These efforts brought the remaining quantity within my limits. After a brief planning for the next day, we headed to our rooms. My worries about moist clothes vanished quickly as our body warmth was enough to overcome it. We were sleeping at 4410 m.

Earlier