Just completed the Around Annapurna trek, a 180km stroll around the Annapurna range of Nepal. An amazing experience, which, despite a nasty cold and a sore knee, I hope to do again one day. Some clippings from my daily journal, and some select pics from the hike...
11.1 Bagarchap, Manang District
The path follows the steep canyonsides north, meandering across foot bridges ands the stream remnants of powerful mountain waterfalls. There are so many waterfalls cutting jagged conyons that one grows numb to their thundering beauty. Brightly colored pony trains pass on the narrow trail, kicking up clouds of fine dust, their bells clanging in arrival and departure. After many hours, the path rises steeply, steadily, and I find myself in a fine rhythm, feeling my breath strongly, focused foward, legs burning. The stone chortons marking the newly Tibetan villages welcome me to my resting place for the evening. The night carries with it the first real chill that i have felt in a long time.
11.2 Chame, Manang District
Enormous hawks soaring on thermals, I am looking at them eye level. Bundles of maize and dried rice stalks stacked in ancient sheds, hidden behind crumbling stone walls, meandering through medevil villages. Crooked legged porters hauling huge wicker baskets laden down for the villages northward, the only trucks in these parts, walking the same paths that people have walked for thousands of years, these ancient trading routes, stones worn smooth underfoot. Drinking milk tea with new friends, the hulk of Manasulu, one of the tallest peaks in the world, as a quaint backdrop. A few words with a Sherpa guide over yet another cup of milk tea, eating dinner in this tiny smoke filled low roofed local meeting house, the lights went out in the village, and we all sat in silence around the wood burning stove for a long minute. Departing with a friendly namaste, a Sanskrit word for greeting and parting, that means, "I salute you."
"the meeting and parting of living things is as when clouds having come together drift apart again, or as when the leaves are parted from the trees. There is nothing we may call our own in a union that is but a dream."
William Blake
11.3 Pisang Village, Manang
Stumbling like a drunkard through this ancient fortress village. What surrounds me does not seem real. Towering white massifs, high dry plains, colorful pony caravans, a band of youths, only boys, carving an impossible road out of the cliffside, using only hand tools and a wagon with mishapen wooden wheels. Prayer flags fluttering furiously in the cool wind, coming from a long way, just as I.
I've felt a certain magic in the air this entire day. A high pine grove, wind whistling through the pine needles, my mind clear, nothing but surrounding bliss for company.
The landscape is hallucinatory.
11.11 Thorong Pedi Base Camp, Manang
Sitting in the partylike atmosphere of the solar heated dining room here in Thorong Pedi, literally, the foot of the pass, the 5460m pass that we will be climbing tomorrow, the highest in the world. Listening to such a variety of accents, a true global gathering, everyone buzzing with nervous energy. My knee hurts, but this was expected after injuring it 4 days ago. With no option other than backtracking (the only airstrip in Manang not operating until december), I have to cross this huge pass and tackle what will be an even harder decent, 1600meters down to the ancient village of Mukthinath. I look foward to the challenge.
the beauty of the mountains continues to amaze me, leaving me breathless, not a hard feet at 4600meters (about 14000ft). the brown stone cliffs framing a deep blue sky, the blinding whiteness of the tall peaks in the midday sun. the path cutting a ribbon up the glacier carved valleys, all the images, though ephemeral, make a lasting impression, I hope. We will set off in the dark tomorrow to not get stuck on the high pass in the heavy afternoon squalls.
11.14 Dana, Mustang district
The last golden rays of sunshine reflect off the high peaks rising above the near verdant, terraced hills. Water comes in irregular spurts from the village water tap onto the cold stones. My knee throbs, badly aches, 16 days now of daily workouts carrying my 40lb pack amidst the highest peaks in the world. We crossed the high pass in brilliant sunshine, deep snows reflecting, the altitude leaving me and my friend gasping for air, legs and minds pumping, arriving spent, yet emboldened in Mukthinath. Tibetan carpet sellers lining the dirt streets, local wine toasted by candlelight.
the snows on the peaks have taken an orange glow-a quick glance would mistake water for fire-and like that, it is gone, only shadows, as all moments.
"the absurdity of a life that may well end before one understands it does not relieve one of the duty to live it through as bravely and as generously as possible"
P. Mattheisson
11.1 Bagarchap, Manang District
The path follows the steep canyonsides north, meandering across foot bridges ands the stream remnants of powerful mountain waterfalls. There are so many waterfalls cutting jagged conyons that one grows numb to their thundering beauty. Brightly colored pony trains pass on the narrow trail, kicking up clouds of fine dust, their bells clanging in arrival and departure. After many hours, the path rises steeply, steadily, and I find myself in a fine rhythm, feeling my breath strongly, focused foward, legs burning. The stone chortons marking the newly Tibetan villages welcome me to my resting place for the evening. The night carries with it the first real chill that i have felt in a long time.
11.2 Chame, Manang District
Enormous hawks soaring on thermals, I am looking at them eye level. Bundles of maize and dried rice stalks stacked in ancient sheds, hidden behind crumbling stone walls, meandering through medevil villages. Crooked legged porters hauling huge wicker baskets laden down for the villages northward, the only trucks in these parts, walking the same paths that people have walked for thousands of years, these ancient trading routes, stones worn smooth underfoot. Drinking milk tea with new friends, the hulk of Manasulu, one of the tallest peaks in the world, as a quaint backdrop. A few words with a Sherpa guide over yet another cup of milk tea, eating dinner in this tiny smoke filled low roofed local meeting house, the lights went out in the village, and we all sat in silence around the wood burning stove for a long minute. Departing with a friendly namaste, a Sanskrit word for greeting and parting, that means, "I salute you."
"the meeting and parting of living things is as when clouds having come together drift apart again, or as when the leaves are parted from the trees. There is nothing we may call our own in a union that is but a dream."
William Blake
11.3 Pisang Village, Manang
Stumbling like a drunkard through this ancient fortress village. What surrounds me does not seem real. Towering white massifs, high dry plains, colorful pony caravans, a band of youths, only boys, carving an impossible road out of the cliffside, using only hand tools and a wagon with mishapen wooden wheels. Prayer flags fluttering furiously in the cool wind, coming from a long way, just as I.
I've felt a certain magic in the air this entire day. A high pine grove, wind whistling through the pine needles, my mind clear, nothing but surrounding bliss for company.
The landscape is hallucinatory.
11.11 Thorong Pedi Base Camp, Manang
Sitting in the partylike atmosphere of the solar heated dining room here in Thorong Pedi, literally, the foot of the pass, the 5460m pass that we will be climbing tomorrow, the highest in the world. Listening to such a variety of accents, a true global gathering, everyone buzzing with nervous energy. My knee hurts, but this was expected after injuring it 4 days ago. With no option other than backtracking (the only airstrip in Manang not operating until december), I have to cross this huge pass and tackle what will be an even harder decent, 1600meters down to the ancient village of Mukthinath. I look foward to the challenge.
the beauty of the mountains continues to amaze me, leaving me breathless, not a hard feet at 4600meters (about 14000ft). the brown stone cliffs framing a deep blue sky, the blinding whiteness of the tall peaks in the midday sun. the path cutting a ribbon up the glacier carved valleys, all the images, though ephemeral, make a lasting impression, I hope. We will set off in the dark tomorrow to not get stuck on the high pass in the heavy afternoon squalls.
11.14 Dana, Mustang district
The last golden rays of sunshine reflect off the high peaks rising above the near verdant, terraced hills. Water comes in irregular spurts from the village water tap onto the cold stones. My knee throbs, badly aches, 16 days now of daily workouts carrying my 40lb pack amidst the highest peaks in the world. We crossed the high pass in brilliant sunshine, deep snows reflecting, the altitude leaving me and my friend gasping for air, legs and minds pumping, arriving spent, yet emboldened in Mukthinath. Tibetan carpet sellers lining the dirt streets, local wine toasted by candlelight.
the snows on the peaks have taken an orange glow-a quick glance would mistake water for fire-and like that, it is gone, only shadows, as all moments.
"the absurdity of a life that may well end before one understands it does not relieve one of the duty to live it through as bravely and as generously as possible"
P. Mattheisson
