Walking with Giants — Lowlands
Posted Saturday 13th November 2021
Contents
- A Not Easy Day
- The Last Pass
- Into Thick Air
- Amble to The Arun
- Tumlingtar at Last
- Side Trek to Chainpur
- An All Day Fifty Minute Flight
Having been through ice and snow, thin air, insurgents, raksi and other novel experiences, we were now heading to something rather more familiar to us low landers.
A Not Easy Day
Another Sunday. We had a 06·30 start in view of the easy day ahead. I assume that descriptor was tongue in cheek. Having had breakfast in the open air we set out initially to visit a Rai Elder (the local cultural leader) and his collection of artefacts, during which we were followed by another gathering of local children pursuing their ‘circus’. When we actually left, Glenda stayed behind to visit the local school, and presumably again meet the gathering that had just surrounded us.
We followed a series of terraces out of Guidel on what later turned out to be the low track. Ninety minutes out we reached, and diverted on to, a faint track that speared straight up a ridge line passing through forests and open cultivated land to eventually arrive at the very bottom of a small village. Our lunch was located at the Gompa which was at the very top of the village, so we were not there yet.
We were still in view of snow capped peaks, heading up to Linchala Gompa.
The combined ridge climb, in full sun, and unaccustomed humidity just about did everyone in. Lunch was very pleasant and we even had a visit from a woman with the key to the Gompa during the absence of the Lama (away on spiritual matters), who took us on a tour of the interior.
Linchala Gompa, lunch and inspection, after an un-easy morning.
There was no sign of Glenda, even though we waited some time, so we set off on the last two hours walking to our destination for the day, at Sanam. There we were given access to a lodge dining room but the tents were crowded into a barely adequate level patch of ground beside the building. Glenda arrived just on dark. The after-dinner card game was shut down by the old woman lodge owner who was apparently used to an early night. It turned out we ascended 1150 metres today which was not what the concept of an easy day suggested.
The Last Pass
Morning wake up and tea, arrived early, more or less in the dark. Breakfast was egg free, there apparently being no, or no spare, eggs available in Sanam. As we departed, we noticed a power line and a micro hydro set up in the nearby creek, a very small village for such a system. We walked out around 07·30 on a track that undulated through to what I noted as a two horse location, from where it started a climb, initially gently but then steepening up stone steps to our final pass at Salpa La.
After all our previous ascents this one seemed to be something of a doddle, although our ascent for the day was still around 800 metres This was our last high summit (3349 m / 10,990 ft), so to celebrate we had morning tea in the tea house that was operating there. It took us three hours in total to get to Salpa La and in that time, we saw just two other people, one of whom was a local out getting fit for a mountaineering expedition.
Ascent to Salpa La.
Lunch was at Garuntze, around 45 minutes down from the pass. From there the track continued, mostly gently for some time until it took to a long steep ridge line heading down toward the distant river. In fact, from Salpa La the track fell consistently for around 2600 metres with hardly a break. We were finally done with high elevation! On our descent we met several young, well dressed, groups heading uphill, apparently to a Maoist gathering of some sort.
In time we came to Jaubari, a small place that was little more than a lodge perched on the open hillside beside the track, with a barely adequate camp site adjacent. Following persistent requests, we finally were given nettle soup tonight — something we took to with relish much to the surprise of the cook who wasn’t sure we would. He had made a backup soup just in case, although the Sherpas et al were happy to have that as an unexpected addition to their evening.
Today was a typical Nepalese day — we dropped 500 metres from our start to our finish, but to do that we had to ascend 800 metres over Salpa La, then descend 1300 metres to get to where we now were. We were about to descend into familiar elevations.
Into Thick Air
Something of a notable day. Almost as soon as we started, we dropped below the altitude of Kosciuszko (for the first time apart from a very short period at Bung) and stayed there for the rest of the trek. As well this was the start of the fifth week since we set out in the middle of November.
Such was the speed at which the expedition was packed up, my tent and contents, other than day pack, departed even before we had breakfast. We set off down a steep but open track toward the junction of two arms of the Irkhura Khola, which we would follow down to the Arun River. At the junction we came across beer supplies so topped up the drink larder for later before continuing on.
The track wandering along the Irkhura Khola not long after we joined it.
A small but interesting monastery and a water driven millet mill were welcome diversions at the river junction, before continuing down the north bank of the now combined river for a km or so. At this point we came across our first bamboo bowstring bridge — half a dozen long bamboo poles lashed together to make a ‘deck’ with a couple of longer bamboos arched beside them to make a not very substantial handrail. These were fairly common in this region and not all were in a condition to give confidence about staying out of the torrent below.
The track more or less contoured above the river through subtropical forest, terraces and occasional villages, crossing side streams on logs apart from one 88m metre suspension bridge (which was immediately followed by a single log crossing in any case). Lunch was in an open paddock along the way.
A suspension bridge back to the north bank was ignored but then we found we still had to cross, only this time on a rather frail bamboo structure followed by yet another a single log. The track then followed closer to the river in the widening valley, meeting several stalls selling mandarins and bananas and yet another even more challenging bamboo bridge before arriving at our destination at Gothe Bazaar.
A relatively robust bamboo bridge at an early crossing of the Irkhura Khola.
We camped on a nearby dry rice paddy which had a ‘raksi speakeasy’ close by. Glenda was 48 today, so we had a celebratory dinner of dahl baht, chicken curry and vegetable curry washed down with beer, a cheery remote area way of recognising the event.
By general agreement we declared tomorrow to be a rest day (we were a day ahead of ourselves at this point) — well deserved after our high mountain exploits. Today had been almost all downhill (1680m / 5510ft) with barely 130 m ascent over the whole distance. We were now at 689m elevation, more or less the same as Canberra, which was home to half the group, and not much above where I then lived at Cherryville.
Next morning we woke to a dewy but not frosty morning which boded well for a good day. Most of the day was spent washing clothes, reading, wandering around the area to the open fronted stalls and the like. Children, who had been fairly prominent during the morning, disappeared and later were seen herding cattle off down river. Mostly the day was spent relaxing and to some extent recovering.
Amble to The Arun
Another dewy morning heralded a fine but humid day. Once packed up we set out along the north bank of the river until we came to a three log (sequentially, not side by side) crossing of the river, one of which was entirely free of handrailing of any sort. From there we contoured and then climbed over a knoll which marked the place where our river joined the Arun, sourced high in the Himalayas.
Lunch was at a high point overlooking the junction of the two. On the way we met a troop of rather athletic monkeys while at lunch a larger and somewhat more assertive monkey made its views known. There were quite reasonable numbers of people on the track but mainly Chetris, the Rais having been left behind in the previous valley.
Out first view of the Arun was at our lunch stop.
After lunch we descended in stages to the Arun at Dingla, a small village straddling a side stream, and soon after made camp on a grassy terrace between rice paddies and the river at a place known as Kartike Ghat, although there was no settlement of any sort there. We were followed by herds of little children who were rather more up front about demanding things.
We were now back on schedule which meant we had another rest day tomorrow. It was quite a pleasant place to while away a bit of time. The night was quite mild and in fact I had to shed a lot of clothing to get comfortable.
Next morning found a layer of ground mist covering the river valley, but that burned off fairly early. Since we were now back at around 400 m elevation we felt entirely comfortable and normal, all the odd effects of high elevation now having been left behind. After breakfast we were free to do as we pleased so, among other things I wandered down to watch the unwilling passage of cattle over the high-level suspension bridge, and investigate a number of fish traps in the river bed.
An unwilling animal being coaxed over the suspension bridge at Kartike Ghat.
The inevitable children reappeared early, disappeared during the middle of the day and reappeared in the afternoon, but a persistent no seemed in the end to wear them down. Glenda was inspired to make a lemon delicious pudding in the evening which turned out not quite as intended but well ahead of the perennial custard and fruit.
Tumlingtar at Last
Our departure route from camp was up and over the suspension bridge then along the east side of the river. We set off fairly early, just after sunrise but in ground mist, which until it burned off, provided a delightfully ethereal atmosphere. An hour or so down the track we found a stall selling mandarins so feasted on them instead of tea for our first morning stop. Walking was easy, on gravel and sand washes and through forest, but with virtually nothing in the way of vertical challenges.
Later we came to a section that was relatively rugged (relative to today, not last week) which ended after around one km at a tea stall, so we stopped for tea. A few hundred metres further on we came to our lunch spot and were able to enjoy another bit of a rest. After lunch we traversed a number of rice paddies before ascending two 50 metre ascents up to the Tumlingtar plateau.
Tumlingtar is a long stretched out town where, for the first time in five weeks, we came across motor vehicles — trucks, utilities and motor bikes which are largely isolated from the world at large and have their own road, separated from the long established walking tracks, at the back of the town. It has a reasonable electricity system capable of running serious stuff like arc welders and refrigerators, although in appearance it is a typically scruffy depot town with a lot of the unkempt look that typifies the less salubrious parts of our cities.
We camped in an open area between the main walking track and road, but because of our proximity to the airport and its army camp we were warned to be careful after curfew at 19·00. Jackals periodically called in the dark, providing a rather eerie backdrop to our evening.
Side Trek to Chainpur
During the night a squabble of jackals ran through our encampment, creating a lot of nocturnal excitement to those who were not heavy sleepers. Two of our group stayed behind and one of the Sherpas set off back home to Guidel so it was a somewhat smaller party that set out for the five hour trek to Chainpur — the actual trek taking eight and a half hours and involving the longest distance (20·9 km) and almost the greatest one day ascent (1267m, 4160 ft) of the whole expedition.
The initial walk involved a fairly straightforward track well above a river before crossing it on a high level bridge where a second river joined, and then climbing steadily for much of the rest of the day. Lunch was part way up, while even when we reached a ridge top it seems we still had a considerable way to go although without the same degree of uphill.
Distant views of Makalu highlighted how far we had walked in the last week or two.
Most of us were knackered by the time we stopped to camp at the top of Chainpur village, on a small secluded plateau with views of hills and valleys off into the distance to the south. At night the odd electric lights over on distant hillsides looked more like glow worms or a scattering of stars than of human habitation.
Next morning was notable in that it was the last trekking day, albeit with quite a bit of work to do to finish. It also brought an end to the fifth week out on the track.
We had an early start and almost immediately had to circumnavigate a buffalo being butchered on the path, a somewhat disturbing experience. Having descended the short distance to Chainpur town, a narrow place strung out along a ridge top, we spent quite a while acquiring lost wax brass castings. After we had exchanged much of our remaining Nepalese money for brassware, we set out back toward Tumlingtar, a bit happier that in this direction we at least we largely going downhill.
We found a shorter contour track which made the ridge traverse much quicker and easier than yesterday, and were able to enjoy morning tea at an establishment along the way. Lunch was at the same spot as yesterday while we took another short cut lower down that involved wading the twin rivers but saved nearly three km of walking. Although the rivers were only around knee deep (by my measure) they were fairly wide and had a hard pebble bottom. I zipped off my longs (making them shorts), parked my socks in my hat and carried my boots while the rest of the group resorted to all sorts of other strategies to get across without getting unduly wet.
Twin rivers, where we waded across on a short cut back to Tumlingtar.
Apart from a short steep climb back up to the track the rest of the day involved a relative doddle of around 2·5 km back to camp. By the time we got there, Poon had the tents all up and everything shipshape so we adjourned to the Arun Hotel for congratulatory drinks. Inevitably when we returned to camp sometime later afternoon tea was waiting. Dinner was chicken curry and a “Come Back Again” cake, providing a pleasant if not somewhat emotional end to the expedition proper. The jackals did not return.
An All Day Fifty Minute Flight
Walking this day was limited to around five minutes or so required to get to the airport terminal. If it all went to plan this description would be one paragraph long, but it didn’t so it won’t be. Our flight was supposed to be around midday, but technical difficulties back in Kathmandu rather delayed things. Then sometime in the afternoon our plane, a Cosmic Airways Dornier 228 this time, was reported to be on the way, but when it did arrive it was declared a failure and taken away to the naughty corner nearby.
We were rebooked onto a later RNAC Twin Otter which created all sort of problems since our expedition baggage and support team would consequently have to wait for the next flight, whenever that might be.
We were told that our baggage would be overweight so Glenda gallantly offered to leave her bag for a later flight (saving 15 kg), only to be told later it couldn’t go in the hold but could be taken in the cabin — not a big place at any time. As we approached the entry ladder the crew suggested they couldn’t put the bag in the hold but if we did it would be OK, so we did and we all survived to tell this tale.
The Nepalese on board all had bags of mandarins in the cabin so I suspect any concept of managing weight was rather loose and fast, regardless of us. As we lifted off from Tumlingtar the wreck of a plane could be seen below, a rather typical reminder of the hazards of flying in and out of remote third world airstrips.
We arrived in Kathmandu at around 17·00 after a 50 minute flight that took all day, more or less repeating experience of our first day when a similarly short flight finished up hours late. By the time we got to the Harate Hotel, our regular Kathmandu accommodation, we were all tired and hungry so ate in and then had a relatively early night.
And thus ended the longest and hardest trek I have ever done or am ever likely to do. We spent five weeks to cover just on 240 km across the landscape of northern Nepal, ascending 16,330 metres in total, reach a high at almost 5400 m on two occasions while, in the same expedition, finishing up at an altitude of just under 400 m. But numbers, words or even pictures cannot really tell the story — it was an experience, and that will endure for a lifetime.
