this is a second full blog on an experience in the Nepalese low mountains with one of the big ranges in view occasionally, but only when the clouds 'play ball' or float really high.
The clouds are busy at the western side of Phewa Lake.
We've lost the clouds.
Not so fast.
Bay watch, night and day.
A lesser peak of Annapurna and a reflection...doesn't get much better.
Each sighting of the mountains, partially dressed with clouds, was gorgeous. (The white building in the centre is one we pass on a hike to Methlang.)
Homeward bound, after passing Shanti Stupa with Shiva Temple in the far distance.
A perspective of a room with a view, but only one of many. The views are equally good whether from balcony or inside the room. Part of the City of Pokhara in view on a dull day.
For health reasons, mine, I refuse to comment about the expression or state of mind of such person reaching a high vantage point. I will add that I refuse to carry benches up in future so Madam might eat brunch in comfort.
Most of us require hope in our thinking, in our path through life. It makes sense. It’s a concept that makes life palatable but also dangerous. The former allows a person to believe, to think, that an uncertain or difficult outcome is possible. Should one pursue a strategy, it’s implied there must be a chance of success and thus hope that it might be achieved. Cease the effort, abandon the pursuit, and there cannot be hope. For some, even unreasonable hope, such as expecting an unrealistic outcome, provides even a modicum of comfort. (Not to be confused with wishful thinking).
On the other hand, (said the economist) it’s dangerous when one puts one’s faith and bases one’s plans, on the unrealistic. For, in these circumstances, the chance of failure and disappointment are extremely high. Nevertheless, as long as there’s hope, albeit a glimmer, one can still believe in a positive outcome. The upside of no or little hope is that the negative is predetermined and as such, an outcome of failure is a given and therefore, pre-accepted. One will likely be sad or worse, but as it’s no surprise, it cannot catch the person unaware.
At this stage, it probably is a good question to inquire where this is going. I agree. However, whether it's a memory issue or some hardwiring problem, I’m not sure. Suffice to say, I think my mind was involved in the possibility of a hike to the peak of Sarangkot, the tower on the mountaintop. We are currently in Nepal during the monsoon season which has been surprising in a positive manner. Actually, the opening premise makes sense in this context. In preparation for the trip, Jen was a frequent reader of weather reports. It appeared that rain should be expected each day. Clearly, this took away hope of hiking, exploring and adventures in general should one wish to remain dry, sweat excepted. Added to this, we knew it would be the quiet season in the country, further attesting to the wisdom of people not wishing to be bound to the indoors rather than exploring mountains. Landslides are an expected outcome of torrential rain, too. However, we had hope because our enquiries led us to believe that despite the almost full days of rain predicted, Buddhi, our landlord, explained the previous year following our enquiry that wet weather is usually contained to limited parts of the day. It gave us hope. On the downside, it set us up for failure and thus disappointment.
We were intending to hike up to Sarangkot, a formidable looking climb with steps, paths, grass and stones forming a route to the summit. (We've hiked it a number of times though). In typical Nepal style, there is usually some path everywhere because the villages are linked. Sure, there are roads on occasions but much of the populace moves on foot when outside the cities. It’s another unique aspect of the country that makes life extremely challenging, but in a way, also fulfilling. It’s not unusual to set out on a climb up a mountain and come across elderly people making tracks, children on their way to-and-from school or others heading for town. Another fascinating concept is that no matter where one is, should there be a structure or two dotting the landscape, a person knows that one can purchase provisions. It’s not unusual, in fact, its standard to walk for miles and come across a café, a vegetable store or souvenir vendor. Furthermore, it’s not surprising to find competition nearby or even accommodation.
While in most of the wilderness of the United States, it’s forests, deserts, and mountains—no services of any kind—while Europe tends to have hotels and restaurants way up in the mountains. South America tends to follow the European model while Nepal doesn’t distinguish between rural and city.
The photograph below provides perspective of the Sarangkot Village and Tower. (The tower is middle of the picture on the peak of front mountain. Part of the Annapurna range behind, Phewa Lake below and heavenly all around. (The reflection in the lake shows the pinnacle.)
Once again, I do believe I got a little lost on the verbal trail, or at best, distracted. Getting back to Sarangkot will bring me back on the path. We had undertaken a number of hikes, most of them superb, while we prepared for this one. While it was likely to be only a little tougher than say the adventure to Shiva Temple, there were some unknowns. The first one is something that’s tough to admit and even tougher to accept. We are definitely aging, funnily enough. The second aspect facing us is that the jungle seems awfully overgrown, (all that rain), the mountain seems to have gotten steeper during our absence, and now with the summer growth, the hike looks even longer and to top it all, the season’s leeches are visiting. Perhaps what’s really different, we keep using this as an excuse, is the temperatures are at least 30 degrees Fahrenheit higher than early spring and the worst of all, humidity is off the charts. Should you think we are making excuses, behaving like pansies or acting our ages, you might be correct. However, we are in fact analyzing the situation by lowering our expectations and thus further decreasing imminent deflation of our egos and possible disappointment. (A career in politics?...heaven forbid). A hundred excuses or just a single reason to do it.
We set out for the commencement point which is below the Annapurna Cable Station. Our intention was to hike to the top and retrace our footsteps back. Most take the cable car allowing them great visuals of the Annapurna Range, including Machhapuchhare (Fishtail). The idea is to get there by 8 or 9am, before clouds cover the magnificent sights. That morning, we had caught glimpses of the mountains from 5:30am which were delightful. We did our research and found out about taking a bus to our commencement point. It’s impossible for us to make sense of the transport system for a number of reasons, one being language. We waited one of our longest periods, all of 5 minutes, hopped on the bus, held our breath as it arrived at a junction in which it had to make a right-turn for our sake and then halted at our destination. We love using the bus for the very short duration rides. As mentioned in an earlier text, it’s a real pickup being with the other passengers and observing the conductor in action.
From the commencement point, it’s an incline the whole way to the top. Most of the time, it is steep to very steep. The path takes one through the jungle for the first 1,000 yards of elevation gain (see earlier blog), then crosses a road, and continues up through villages and open fields. It is possible to take different routes, including walking along the side of the road in places. Should you wish to drink much Coke, eat snacks and dodge cars, busses and motorbikes, the road is the suggested route. Should you wish to be alone, avoid noise but the sound of crickets rubbing their legs together and birds singing, take the steps, rocks, stones, sand and grass paths the whole way. It’s fascinating how one will come to a road, wide path or village and wonder what happened to the main “trail” we were following. Open the eyes, apply a little logic, a little luck certainly helps, and lo and behold, the path resumes over some rocks and along a grassy worn stretch somewhere ahead and to the side.
One will come across locals at many stages, except in the jungle parts. One must be prepared to answer the standard question from the locals: “Where are you from?” Last week we were asked by a very elderly looking man who appeared to be in his 80's, “How old are you?” That was a first. I thought I’d play the same game to which he replied, “62”. One for the Lazarow's.
The really good news for us: We repeated the hike 8 days later which was fabulous and intend at least one more go.
From our second Sarangkot hike, Jen is now standing on the opposite mountain to those in the pictures above but still has much to climb. (Note the Shanti Stupa on the lower mountain across the lake. We spent a couple of nights to the right of the temple.)
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
