Now, where was I? Right at about the 4:30am wake up call point so I could climb Poon Hill in the dark and catch the sun rising over the Annapurna Ranges. Oh it sounds so impressive and hard core, doesn’t it? Well, it did to me, which is why I wanted to get plenty of sleep in me. After the couple of days I’d just had, I admit to being a bit nervous at the state my body would wake up in, and I was pretty certain it would be highly unimpressed at my intentions to climb up again. But this time there would be no pack involved, so I had high hopes.
Which brings me to the point in the tale where I would insert a great quote I read in Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marissa Pessl if I could, but I can’t. Instead I’ll have to rely on the gist of the quote, which says something about how when two people travel together the potential for it to go pear shaped is high. Cue moment for potential pear-shaped ness in this little traveling tale because… The aforementioned stomach cramps Chris experienced at the end of our day’s trekking didn’t settle down. We were sharing a small cabin with a teensy little bathroom about half a foot away from my bed, and perhaps three feet away from his. Let’s just say that during the night Chris probably walked another kilometre or so without ever leaving the cabin, while I was left cursing the fact that I’m a very light sleeper.
Neither of us was very happy when 4:30am came around. Nor were we happy that we’d run out of both toilet paper and tissues. Nor were our bodies happy (especially his) that we were soon climbing up a rather steep hill, trying not to turn an ankle on the unsteady rocks in the dark. I moaned. I complained. I sighed. I swore. I stopped. I started. I sniffled. I coughed. I moaned. I complained. I sighed. I swore….
Until we made it to the top and my legs rejoiced at how flat it was up there and my nose rejoiced at other people’s willingness to share much-coveted Kleenex and my freezing cold body rejoiced at the hot tea stand just to the left of me. Oh, what was that? Am I supposed to be looking at the mountains or something? I look up, I look around, I try and peer through the mist, but to no avail. It appears I’ve been sucked in to the biggest dupe of all and I’ve done all of this feeling like utter shite for absolutely no reason because it seems the Annapurna Ranges packed up and left some time during the night. They must have, because damn me if I couldn’t see even a hint of them through all this cloud.
Pfft. Sunrise over Poon Hill indeed. Whose great idea was this?
But then this happened:
I suspect the mountains detected how bad my mood had become, felt guilty, and snuck back into place while I was hiding from the biting wind in the tea shack. I’m very glad they did because otherwise I’d be left trying to crow about the quality of the most expensive cup of tea I’ve ever had that came straight from a tea bag to impress you. At the very least it’s the highest I’ve ever drank a cup of tea, so maybe I would spin the story that way. This is a moot point now, though, as I’ve got the mountains to talk about, and wow, they were preetttyyy. At least they were when the clouds parted long enough for me to catch a glimpse, which they dutifully did every now and then.
So the climb up wasn’t a total waste and I got to see the sun and the mountains do their thing at dawn and I got to climb back down the mountain and sit in front of a wood fire and order a carb-fuelled stodge-fest for breakfast and more tea which all combined to give me my smile back. Until I remembered that according to our plan we needed to hit the trail again in a couple of hours. Cue the point where I look at Chris, who at least outwardly appears to be as shattered as I feel, and voice my concerns at the pathetic state we were both in. I never should have worried though, because we were in Nepal! And Nepal had already proven more than once that it was the kind of country I could count on to come through for me right when I need it most.
Our lovely guesthouse operator chose this moment to wander on over and offer the suggestion that we take a rest day here, because the descent could be tackled in a day if your knees were up to it. I did a quick body assessment and decided my knees were completely unrelated to all my other current problems and leapt at the suggestion. A whole day staring out at mountains? A whole day of not wearing my pack? A whole day of sipping tea for my sore throat and sitting by the campfire? What does Renee say to Tom in that movie, “you had me at hello” or something? Well, that was me right then. Hello indeed.
And so it was that I spent the day lazily lounging around Ghorepani, taking a long hot shower, eating and sipping tea and wandering around town and writing postcards and reading by the fire and generally enjoying the splendidness of not moving very far - all with the mountains as a backdrop in case I got bored doing absolutely nothing. Nepal even threw in the added bonus of rain and hail in the afternoon to absolve me of any (unlikely) guilt I may have felt at not moving very far. By the end of the day I felt like an entirely new person, and I capped it all off with a great night’s sleep which is exactly what the doctor ordered for our day of descent.
Day Four – Ghorepani to Nayapul
I’m awake and fumbling around through my layers of clothing, sleeping bag and blankets to find a tissue and my phone to check the time when I catch a glimpse of something blue through the slit of the curtains. Crystal clear blue. My interest sparked, I brave the cold morning air and sit up and move the curtain aside to get a better look. 6am has never, ever been so delightful:
Nepal, full kudos to you – for my last day in the hills you pulled out an absolute stunner, instantly rendering every step up, every ache, every snotty tissue, and the litany of every other pathetic complaint completely and utterly worth it.
Just for those of you who may never get to admire the Annapurna Ranges up close, I made sure I took 1,759,547 photos of them so you don’t have to miss out. I promise to include only a small selection of them here, but for interested parties a public screening of every photo can be arranged once I am firmly back in the land girt by sea (girt, what a stupid word when you say it aloud. So glad it’s in the national anthem).
To say I was in an exceptional mood would be an understatement. I was pretty ecstatic. The weather was perfect, the views even better, and my body felt wonderful compared to twenty-four hours ago. I even put on my pack without too much of a grimace, and while not looking forward to finishing the trek and heading back to reality, I was excited by the fact that today would involve going downhill, and anticipating the spectacular views to continue as we headed into the valley.
I was not disappointed (of course, since this is Nepal) and Chris and I happily chatted away as we made our way down the mountain, stopping every now and then to slip slop slap, chat with other trekkers, and take photos of the snow capped mountain views which kept us company for most of the day. As we wound our way down through small villages and past pack horses carrying food and bags of cement and other supplies I marveled at how easy it was to climb down compared to climbing up. I could do this all day, I thought, which was lucky since that was exactly what I would be doing all day. My contentedness with the world continued through our lunch stop (mmm, vegetable momos) right up until the point where I stood up from my chair and tried to take a step forward.
What? What was going on? My calf muscles were refusing to follow the order I sent them from my brain telling them to move. And they hurt! A lot! So much that when I bent down to touch them, my fingers snapped back at the shooting pain they caused with a mere touch. Uh oh. We still had half the day ahead of us. Uh oh. This hurt. Uh oh, I could see more steps. And indeed it was a painful few hours for me that followed as we finished the trek and finally collapsed into the back of a 1923 model Corolla (yes, exaggerating), but I didn’t care really because I still had the film of snow capped mountains playing out in my head, which made me happy.
The happiness continued as our driver herded a group of local guys to push the car to get it started, and as he paused to conduct a drug deal with two very shady looking thirteen-year-old boys, and as we cheated death on the windy road back into Pokhara (possibly not helped by our driver's now obvious drug habit), and as I hobbled into our guesthouse eager for a shower and a lie down before … finding a bar. I know, you’re shocked.
And that brings me to the end of my (insert excessive superlatives) trip to Nepal. I hereby swear not to mention it again on this blog. (www.communicationsjobsinnepal.com??? Is there such a thing?)
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