Notes From The Trail

 (Seventy Six Twenty, Sixty-Five)

On the morning of the 28th of December I took a disorienting bus ride, sitting then standing, possibly overpaying, unsure when to disembark, to the cluster of shacks known in these parts as Phedi, where I was to begin my trek into the Annapurna Conservation Area.  I jumped off the bus when instructed, dragging my pack from underneath the woman who was sitting on it, looked around, saw only the standard wood-scrap constructed shops on one side of the road, and a sheer mountain wall rising up from the other side.  A shop owner offered to sell me some water.  I declined.  He then offered to sell me a walking stick, revealing to me that I was indeed in the right place.

"Annapurna Base Camp?"  I inquired.  He pointed to the mountain wall, on which I now noticed there were an approximation of stairs leading up into the forest that clung to the mountain.  I breathed deeply, shouldered my pack and started climbing, telling myself that I didn't really expect it to be easy.

My journey took seven days in total, four up and three down, covering around fifty miles and climbing to about 13,500 feet.   There are several options available as far as routs go, but they all essentially start on the edges of modernization and then retreat from it.  Nothing within the Conservation Area is accessible by road.  There tends to be a settlement every two hours or so, but as the trail progresses further from where motor vehicles have ever been they tend to become increasingly small and spartan.  It took about a day and a half before I was past the point of the last permanent settlement of Chomrong and on to little clusters of guest houses that survive only by serving the trekkers and their guides, along with a little bit of farming.  Everything that comes to these towns is either made there or brought in on the backs of porters.  It tends to put the price of your egg fried noodles in perspective once you've seen a sixty year old man straining under the weight of eight metal crates, each filled with live chickens and strapped to his back, walking slowly up the same hill that you're climbing for pleasure.

Most of the other tourists had guides.  Many had porters to carry their bags.  It's not all that expensive and there's nothing wrong with it, but I took a certain degree of pride in "covering my own sector".  If there was an unmarked fork in the trail I waited and asked for advice.  My pack was heavy, but I looked with a bit of contempt on those tourists shouldering mere "day packs" while their porters carried impossibly heavy loads.

The trail experience was one of quiet, working solitude, with periodic welcome bursts of human interaction.  Most times, without a guide or a companion, I was alone as I walked, pondering life, remembering, planning, thinking about the miles I've covered and the miles still left to go. In the evenings, if I was lucky, there was a friendly campfire or dining hall (with a gas heater blazing an open flame beneath the table) where I could share stories, play some cards, and pass the time with other trekkers.  If the trail had been particularly grueling that day, I found this was especially important.  More than any other, Day Five found me near breaking, on my way down but a long way from finished, heart racing at a disconcerting pace with every up hill step (because there's still plenty of up on your way down. Oh yes.) stumbling half dazed into Deorali, where I recognized to my delight The Hilarious Aussie Girls. They brought me tea and blankets and warmed me with their care and concern, all while telling me how very impressed they were at the distance I'd traveled.  God, I love those girls.

Views: Fantastic.  Mountains: Unimaginably Huge.  Weather: Cold.  Altitude:  A bit of an issue.

I'm back in Pokhara now.  I think I've lost about 20 pounds.  I'm sore in all sorts of places.  I never want to carry that pack again, but tomorrow I've got to catch the tourist bus to Kathmandu and renew my visa and check on a volunteer opportunity.  Today I plan to eat a lot of samosas and take it slow and easy.