Trek Nepal 2000: Down South
Contents
- To the Deepest Gorge
- More Temperate Climes
- The Great Snow Storm
- Aftermath
- Poon Hill and Beyond
- A Very Nepalese Day
- Not Quite to Pokara
- Return to Normality
To the Deepest Gorge
This day was remarkable for the fact that in a few hours we walked from arid alpine to lush forest, while later in the day sub-tropical species were starting to show themselves. All in a matter of less than 20 kilometres.
The horse provided the option of respite from walking – in this case for Diana.
We set off walking into a mainly cloudy day at about 08:00, through the very clean and well ordered Marpha village, then along a combination of riverbed and hillside tracks to Tukuche, an old trading town that has seen greater prosperity. Crops in the cultivated land were showing considerably greater enthusiasm than further north, while the deciduous fruit trees added a further touch of green. A group of school kids were at play hopping and scotching opposite where we had morning tea. The big excitement was however that the lodge had a real western dunny! No squat for those who timed things right, no joy for the others.
After Tukuche we crossed to the east bank on one of the subsequently familiar suspension bridges.
The horse trailed along, giving rides to those in need or those who could be talked into needing it. From Tukuche the track found its way across to the east side of the riverbed for quite some distance, an unintended consequence of which was the bypassing of Larjung, located on the west bank, and its semi enclosed track. There were maybe a dozen mule trains one way or the other during the morning, with several visible at one time in the open river bed section.
Line of walkers and porters across the last of the wide river bed of the Kali Gandaki.
In the wide alluvial plain very simple bridges sufficed – not so later down the gorge.
By now we were walking into a blustery cold wind and it was with some relief that we eventually found ourselves in the midst of a forest of large pine, yew and cypress trees at a constricted part of the river. A series of cascades running off the flanks of the hidden Dhaulagiri were frozen almost to the confluence with the Kali Gandaki, the lowest ice we met up with.
Ice streams from Dhaulagiri almost reached down to where we were.
Lunch was just around the corner, and the shelter was as welcome as the food, particularly when it started to hail quite heavily. Lunch finished and suitably rugged up we headed on, noticing the rapid changes that took place from here on.
The river finally lost its wide alluvial bed and started cascading down gorges instead, forests took over with a range of plants from daphne and other understory to large cypress and occasional rhododendron trees, timber and thatch became common building materials with gable roofs largely supplanting flat roofs.
The dark and moody afternoon atmosphere in the narrow forested gorge we now had to follow.
Rather less obviously there was a change from Buddhism to Hinduism as the predominant belief system as we headed south.
At Dhampu a side by side pair of suspension bridges took us to the west bank and the more or less contiguous towns of Kalopani and Lete.
Crossing back to the west bank at Kalopani and some more adventurous walking.
A Swiss funded school for adult education in hospitality, agriculture and construction was prominent in Kalopani, along with electricity wires lying all over the place in anticipation of connection to the local grid in a few months time. The track through both towns was paved with the typical slate like stone, providing a relatively clean and ordered touch.
At the far end of Lete the track dropped suddenly down a zig zag track to a 110 metre suspension bridge over a side stream, then sidled the face of an immense landslip that was still dropping a few stones as we traversed it.
Traversing the still mobile landslide at the southern end of Lete.
Some idea of what landslide can mean in Nepal – fortunately on the far side of the gorge.
The track then dropped down through dense forest, clinging to the steep side of the narrow valley. As fast as we descended so did the mainly unseen river. A dwelling or two and a guest house found solace in the only places where building was possible. A couple of distant flowering rhododendrons in true diplomatic style went deliberately unrecognised by Bill (there was a wager or two involved in that). Intermittent rain, added to the forest cover, made the light so poor that photography was more or less abandoned for the afternoon.
Eventually we arrived at Ghasa, or at least the north end, and found ourselves walking through a village archery match. Another kilometre and we arrived at our camping place, the Laxmi Lodge. It was about 17:00, which made this the longest day so far. I was extremely tired, as were most others, and dinner was hurriedly finished to allow an early retirement. The rain continued into the night.
More Temperate Climes
Dawn came slowly, being preceded by a mule train that clonked it’s way past in the dark. Although it was cloudy the rain had gone which gave us a pleasant walking day. The valley and track changed in character rapidly during the day, making for quite some interest. Initially we were on the west side of a very steep forested valley until descending to a crossing to the east side and a difficult sidling route along the now extremely rugged gorge.
Endless steps down to the next gorge crossing – back to the east side.
In places the track was cut into the side of the cliff; a sort of open sided tunnel. The old track on the opposite side looked even more difficult where it still existed, but since it had been swept away by landslides in several places it was no longer of much use.
Kopchepani village here was notable for three things, the boundary between the Mustang and Myagdi districts, a group of kids playing their own version of hop scotch on the track and a rough twisting descent toward the river and a 120 metre long suspension bridge.
The bridge back to the east bank and subsequent track were of a fairly basic standard.
As luck would have it just as we arrived at the bridge a 35 animal mule train started from the other side. It made for quite an interesting photo while waiting for this lot to cross, particularly as there was a substantial waterfall in the background.
Mule train suspended in space in front of the Rukse Chhahara waterfall.
Some considerable clops, clonks, yells, whistles and creaks later we were able to take our turn and continue on the short way to a tea house located right at the foot of the Rukse Chhahara falls. It was then but a short, although still quite rugged, walk until we arrived at Dana and lunch.
Teahouse at the waterfall with a couple of our sherpas enjoying a break.
Lunch, in a busy hotel courtyard, was the usual elaborate affair enhanced by half sun, warm air and surrounding bougainvillea, banana palms and citrus trees. A rather extrovert rooster kept giving voice from the courtyard wall, I suspect rather shortening the odds of it surviving for long. During lunch several runners galloped down the track, all suitably decorated with numbers and the like. Running in Nepal would not seem to be a bright idea, but these turned out to be front-runners of about 25 men of iron competing in a mad dash around the Annapurna Circuit – a mountain man competition.
The track continued on a slightly easier profile after lunch, although at one place a short tunnel took us through an outlying rock buttress.
Bill about to head through the trekking tunnel.
A corn mill driven by a horizontal waterwheel sat idle beside the track waiting for the new harvest. Porters with enormous bales on their backs were traveling our way while loads of chooks in multi-tiered cages were heading the up valley. Several women passed with sleeping children poking out of their burdens, while one had a chook gracefully capping her load.
Tatopani was not far away and appeared as a linear village with the first real shops (in Nepalese terms) that we had seen since Pokhara. We were domiciled at the Namaste Lodge, camped on the low level next to the river. In deference to the relative remoteness of the site we used the mess tent for the first and as it turned out the only time on the trek. A few beers were consumed in the lodge garden where a sign exhorted us to ‘Help keep our beauty rooted, please refrain from picking’; a delightfully ambivalent bit of instruction.
Our camp on the lower terrace at Tatopani.
Most of the party at one stage or another plunged into the hot springs down by the river. The chance to get hair washed and a good body soak along with some clothing cleaning as well (you have to wear something, even in the hot springs!) was too good to miss. A real league of nations was there; a Canadian girl, a very twee English rose with a wool costume, a couple of Frauleins, and several of the French, Japanese and other men of iron.
Diana and I had a curious but amiable conversation with some of the French iron men, each in our native language with the other making what they could of it. Several Japanese in particular seemed to like downing a beer or two while in the pool despite it being almost too hot to remain in for more than a few minutes. We also met our Japanese biking friends here again for the last time; they were heading out to Beni while we were heading uphill to Ghorepani on the morrow.
The Great Snow Storm
A sudden thunderstorm was the morning wakeup call, followed by steady rain which continued for some time, the first really poor weather on the whole trip. Our usual early mug of tea followed the thunder by a few minutes. Despite the rain we got away about 07:50, heading out past the enormous landslide that threatened to flood the town a year or so earlier. This took us to two suspension bridges; one over the Kali Gandaki for the last time and a much less stable one over the Ghar Khola at its confluence.
At this point we turned left and headed uphill … and uphill … and uphill all day. We were facing a 1,200 metre climb today, no mean effort even in Nepal. The track initially ascended steeply through ripening terraces of grain, and flowering rhododendron trees, to a gap in the skyline then continued in great sweeping climbs to successive villages nested between outlying ridges. Jenny, Bill, Ian and I were somewhat ahead of the rest and stopped for tea at a funny little tea house at lower Ghara with views across the now deep valley to a village and its terraces just visible below the cloud line some 500 metres or more above our position.
At the next village, Sikka, we met up with a young German fellow we had run into earlier, on his way out after a period working on a UN study of the impact that roads would have on village economies in remote areas such as where we had been. His conclusions seemed to be similar to mine, but he was quite despondent about the chances of anyone actually taking any notice of his work.
Lunch was at upper Sikka in an open sided thatch roof restaurant which in the rather bleak conditions was less than ideal. Ian had kept striding to keep warm, so much so he overshot the lunch stop and had to be chased by Min and brought back in a state that could best be described as steaming. During lunch we noted new fallen snow on nearby ridges down to a level not much above ours. Lunch over, Ian and Jenny, separately, decide to stride on rather than wait for a hot drink, being closely followed by Min as shepherd.
They left just as another considerably more powerful thunderstorm rolled in. Rain came down in torrents and was the cause of some concern during the early afternoon. In the rain and gloom the proliferation of flowering rhododendron trees did their best to add a bright touch. As we got higher, to the village of Phalate, the rain turned to snow and started to come down quite heavily. At the Nice View Restaurant we were called in to join a large multi-national group of trekkers and porters who were sheltering by a fire, Jenny being among them. This is when it transpired that Min had gone ahead to catch up with Ian who, unknowingly, had been overtaken at a tea house along the way and was now behind us. It wasn’t Ian’s day at all.
The temperature dropped alarmingly, and icicles formed, dangling from the corrugated iron roof as the snow kept coming down. Tea was distributed while waiting for the storm to abate, which it did after an hour or so. Groups slowly disengaged themselves from the warmth and headed off in their respective directions, with our group as a matter of prudence keeping close together to avoid any more losses.
Everything was drenched – track, trees, backpacks and trekkers – so it was with some relief we arrived at Chitre, at another Namaste Lodge, after a reasonably short walk. Residual snow and ice lay on the ground and decorated the trees, while the rapidly clearing cloud rolled away to the north to reveal fresh snow in all directions.
After the storm – the Dhaulagiri massif swept by clearing shrouds of cloud.
Dhaulagiri revealed itself, sunstruck on its western flank with an immense mane of cloud streaming from its summit, making one of the most spectacular sights of the trip. Lowering sun streamed in to highlight the red rhododendrons and white magnolias that dotted the foreground completing a dramatic view that drew me back more than once to just stand in awe. By sunset the sky was almost clear, just three hours after the height of the storm. Annapurna South, invisible up to now, slowly almost coyly came out from the residual cloud to be seen for the first time.
Annapurna South reveals itself for the first time, still wearing a feather of cloud.
In deference to the snow we were accommodated in rooms at the lodge; simple packing box rustic but quite comfortable. The dining room had a central wood heater and this did sterling service drying out wet gear and trekkers, while the trekkers themselves drowned themselves from the inside with copious doses of Baileys or whisky. The majority view seemed to be that it had been a bugger of a day, yet rather enjoyable which certainly set the stage for a couple of even more enjoyable days ahead.
Aftermath
The morning was brilliantly clear and bright, enhanced to no uncertain degree by the pristine post storm clarity all around. Bare rocky country down valley, dark sombre colours of the forests, cheerful brilliance of the red and white flowers, flawless white of new snow and the grand dome of piercingly blue sky overarching the lot; what a feast for the soul. The view to the north was made up of foreground trees in greens and yellows, starkly replicated in white on the next ridge. It was clearly a day that demanded more than normal quantities of film.
Dhaulagiri reveals itself at sun up in all its majesty.
The track had turned to hard ice overnight making conditions rather treacherous underfoot. Huge rhododendrons crowded the forests while smaller plants graciously displayed their snow capped blooms beside the track.
The rhododendron trees provided a bit of colour during the morning walk.
Mule trains clonked past in both directions, having a bit of difficulty keeping their feet on the ice.
Mule train in snow, treading carefully in the icy conditions.
Porters on the other hand ploughed on relentlessly in their sandshoes and thongs. Where the track widened the virgin snow at the side was far easier and safer than the compacted ice, although bombardment by snow cascading from trees as the temperature warmed left a bit to be desired.
A classic postcard snow scene with Annapurna South as the backdrop.
As we climbed the fairly steep track the grand arc of big mountains melded to become a whole horizon of pristine snowy peaks.
After an absolutely delightful two hour walk we rather suddenly came across Ghorepani, and in typical style it was practically the first hostelry we arrived at that was our place for the night – at least for a short time. Snow lay all around, not particularly thickly but sufficient to make life outdoors cold and wet, so an executive decision was made to move into the lodge. Since it didn’t have rooms with views we then moved over the road to the Tukuche Peak View Lodge.
Enjoying outdoors at Ghorepani – until we found another lodge with better views.
Jenny and I went for a walk through town looking for a post office (there was none), to buy stamps (there were none) and to buy a spare film. The film was quoted as 200 Rs, but when I went back to get it some time later it the price had gone to up 250 Rs. C’est Nepal. I bought a pair of mule bells instead, from a stall near our lodge. The afternoon was spent primarily being lazy, writing diaries, talking, reading and similar pastimes.
Ghorepani from above, covered in snow. Whatever melted during that day was replaced late afternoon.
As time went by the sun disappeared, clouds and cold wind came up and it snowed quite heavily for half an hour or so, freshening up the otherwise rapidly melting fall from yesterday. In some ways it was typical of the weather patterns of all but the last few days. Later in the afternoon Min and Ran played ‘flick billiards’ below our tea room with some of the locals while helicopters started a regular commuter run up and down the valley, presumably to Jomosom replacing fixed wing aircraft in the aftermath of yesterday. It was Diana’s birthday today, so it was only appropriate that a birthday cake appeared with dinner, the second of three stove top cakes we had on the trek. An early night was in order since most of the group planned do the pre-dawn trek to Poon Hill for tomorrow’s sunrise.
Poon Hill and Beyond
The lodge was typical packing case construction, with single bulb electric lighting that wavered between a dull brown and reasonably bright as suited its moods. Dull brown was the output when we rose at 05:00 but as we came alive so did the lighting. Strange! Six of us set out in the dark with torches, although the waning moon and subsequent rising dawn made them almost superfluous. Streams of trekkers converged from all points of the compass and crocodile filed their way up the hill. Flashes of torch from up ahead gave some idea of where the track went as well as how many people were on it. By the time we summited there must have been 200 people there, some with their head torches alight until well after sunrise.
The sun was well up at 8,000 metres on Dhaulagiri but not down at 3,000 metres where we were.
Sunrise over the Annapurnas provided some interesting lighting.
Middle of the Annapurnas with (possibly) Annapurna 1, 10th highest point on the planet.
An impromptu tea stall did a good trade with those who didn’t have the advantage of an expedition cook. A bright glow to the east of the Annapurna massif slowly intensified to a sunburst just after 06:00. Clear air, minimal cloud and the oblique angle made for an ordinary looking sunrise, although the camera recorded a more subtle aspect to the event. The return downhill was notable for the tightly compacted line of walkers, with the smarties, some of us among them, taking short cuts and bounding cross country to extract themselves from the pedestrian traffic jam.
Some of the herd at Poon Hill after sunrise, about to return to Ghorepani and another day’s trekking.
Arrival back at Ghorepani was at 07:00, following which we packed up and had breakfast in time to get away for the second time at 08:30. Wending our way out past various lodges we then started to climb up the ridge, sometimes sidling, sometimes up gullies and sometimes on the ridge line. All sheltered sections of the track were quite treacherous with hard ice, but in more open areas it was a delight to bound along off track in crisp untouched snow. The track leveled out in time with great views to Dhaulagiri, Annapurna South and Machhapuchhre through scattered rhododendron trees.
Annapurna South and Machhapuchhre provided the horizon for much of the morning.
This section of track reminded me of some of the alpine tracks at home, provided that I ignored the vegetation and views! In time we came to Deurali Gap, and immediately there was a change to largely conifer forest. The track descended a bit but still within a snow covered landscape.
On one of the longer downhill sections I tobogganed on my posterior as an alternative to trying to walk, an exhilarating and rapid way to negotiate the track but with some potentially painful risks.
Trekking in the snow was not hard and rather picturesque.
Deurali (one of many places with that name) itself hove into view in time, a couple of tea house lodges and a bunch of traders stands. Droves of people were stopped here for morning tea, those heading in the opposite direction looking decidedly wan. It soon became apparent why when we left; the track descended steeply all the way to Banthani about 3 km away.
Our route was to where the people are straight down. They of course were headed up to where we are. No wonder they looked a bit wan!
The track followed a deep and steep valley which included a high lacy waterfall part way along. Overhanging cliffs were a feature. Progressively we dropped below the snow line and back onto normal but sometimes muddy tracks. By the time we reached our lunch stop at Banthani the snows had been left well behind and the sun was strikingly hot. Dal baht was turned on for lunch by special request and was received with great acclaim.
Now below the snow but still very up and down.
After lunch the track sidled on a more or less level alignment through great groves of rhododendrons (populated with troops of rather agile monkeys) until it swung around a very steep cleared hillside to a face on view of Machhapuchhre at relatively close range. The view was short-lived however as the track dropped steeply into the valley immediately in front of us before climbing back up the other side to a similar elevation.
At the end of the ascent was Tadapani, a small guest house village with such stunning views straight onto Annapurna South and Machhapuchhre that I continued straight on when Ran veered off to the camp site. The others soon arrived, and it wasn’t long before we were imbibing tea, beer and the view all at one time. Tent setting up time followed, and I was surprised when I relaxed for a moment only to doze off for an hour or so. The Lodge dining room was heated by an open fire in an old kerosene tin, amplified by a second as the evening wore on. An early night ensued.
A Very Nepalese Day
Inspired by Poon Hill, some of us rose early to watch the sunrise at Tadapani, but the mountains were mostly back lit and not particularly spectacular.
Sunrise on Machhapuchhre, one of the most distinctive mountains in Nepal.
There is always an anti-climactic feeling toward the end of a long trek, but in this case it was unfounded. Setting out at 07:30 we were immediately in a dense forest of rhododendron trees draped with mosses and backdropped by distant snowscapes. In places the flowers were close enough to get the intimate close ups we had been looking for.
The Rhododendron trees were in full flower. They were also home to agile but shy monkeys.
By degrees the track dropped into a double ended gully which led us past the Phisi Kharka tea house then down a long descent into a side gully.
From there the track sidled through thinning forest to the Sitkyu tea house, a place whose self proclaimed niche in life is ‘avalanche viewing’. We didn’t get to view any. However, it was where terraces reappeared after having left them three days earlier at Chitre.
The tea house at Sitkyu was a popular place for both trekkers and locals.
A number of groups of young local women arrived while we were there, all carrying long lengths of bamboo for some unexplained purpose, robustly refusing all attempts to photograph them.
Only a short walk along an increasingly well paved track brought us to lunch in upper Ghandruk, out on the grass, picnic style, looking straight at the ‘Fish Tail’. Jenny and I spent a fruitless half hour or so looking for the post office, although in this case we knew it did exist even if it remained hidden.
From where we were, Landruk could be seen perhaps two kilometres away in a straight line, but around 400 metres lower. The difficulty was that the Modi Khola was in between and 800 metres lower. An everlasting never ending series of stone steps took us an hour to negotiate to reach the bottom and stop for a reviving tea. On the way we ran into a flock of school kids, released for the day, who seemed to have a magnetic attraction to our pens and safety pins. A bit lower a collection box was in place to help pay for a third teacher for the school and its five classes, an indication perhaps of the poverty stricken state of education in rural areas. Just before the tea house a water driven mill was grinding corn a grain at a time.
We descended 800 metres to cross Modi Kola, after which we only had 400 metres ascent to our camp location.
Even stringing out the tea stop down in the gorge couldn’t postpone the remainder of the day for ever, and eventually we somewhat reluctantly headed off up the steep and exposed track to Landruk. There was no shade, and the sun beat down relentlessly as we slowly plodded uphill. Bill, in his almost regal way, went into slow cruise mode and just kept on going when all about him were dying on the track. Or so it seemed.
Our home for the night was at Green View Lodge which was up at the high end of the village, a frustrating location for those like me who rather ran out of puff on the home stretch. The Green View was in a commanding location with views across and both up and down the Modi Khola valley.
Landruk village looking down to where we had come from.
It had an unusual circular dining room which looked out onto a far more improbable structure next door; a four tiered wedding cake sort of place with very little apparent structural integrity. Still, as the locals would probably observe, it hasn’t fallen over – yet.
Our camp at Landruk.
The news that there was to be a transport strike on the morrow did not seem to concern anyone unduly even though it would almost certainly delay our arrival at Pokhara (and hot showers) by one night. In fact, I realised at this point that we had two days in Pokhara and not the one I mistakenly expected.
A cultural event was offered by the locals, but despite filling in time until 20:30 with a bit of home made jollity, their non arrival encouraged us to head to bed at that hour instead.
Not Quite to Pokara
Sometime during the night a strange series of animistic horn blasts rent the night air, starting from somewhere to the north, passing on uphill then returning via a different route back from where it came. From time to time some sort of chanting could be heard in a bizarre form of accompaniment. The explanation in the morning was that it was the local holy man out on an auspicious occasion.
On the way out this morning we returned to terrace country that stretches from the bottom of gorges to way up there.
Breakfast was done and we were off and walking by 07:30 along a well graded track featuring orchids in quantity, terraces without number, rice and barley aplenty, interspersed with fascinating little side gullies. Bill provided an interesting and erudite commentary along the way, based on his 1950’s experience in Nepal.
Terraces remain well within the domain of grand mountains draped in ice and snow.
Morning tea was at a place in Tolka, with the now habitual lemon tea providing a refreshing break. From here the track wended its way into a quite substantial side gully before starting the last real ascent of the trek, about 400 metres up a soaring rock staircase to yet another Deurali. I made it almost non stop to the top, having finally got the ‘cruise’ system working, and also catching sight of Bill behind me a number of times! Predictably there was a tea house settlement at the top, and it was noticeable that few if any travellers bypassed the opportunity.
The final ascent (of the trek) up to another Deurali and a welcome tea house.
The remainder of our group straggled in over the next twenty minutes.
We left soon afterwards for a delightful ridge top stroll through prolific rhododendron gardens liberally laced with branches of orchids on the way to our lunch stop in a garden setting at Pothana. Several other large groups were heading the same way as we were; Dutch, Danish and a Sierra Club group who were picking up rubbish along the track. Our only mule train for the day clonged by during lunch.
The track from here followed a fairly obvious route down the ridge to Dhampus, passing a hotel with a kidney swimming pool devoted to keeping drinks cold, buffalo wallowing in the remains of a mud hole, school children playing volleyball (it must be the national pastime) and a number of fairly ordinary tea houses before stopping at one that overlooked our final destination at Phedi.
Buffalos and a wallow – we had been in Zopke / Yak territory up to this time.
The zig zag road visible below was a forceful reminder that we were returning to a world somewhat removed from that of the last 11 days – that the trek was ending.
The zig zag road was the first time in 12 days that we had seen a road, let alone motorized vehicles. Culture shock!
Martin and Min made use of the time to confirm our altered arrangements for the night. The weather had turned dull, although not particularly cold, to perhaps mirror my feelings as we followed the sherpa (Ran in this case) down a series of sometimes steep rock steps and paths to our destination. Nearing the bottom there were impressive chestnut groves, while the final section was a twining zig zag almost vertically down into Phedi and our camp for the night. Jenny and I were the first two to arrive, and it was with mixed feelings that I acknowledged that the trek had now ended. Everyone had safely arrived by 16:15. The Sierra Club took up residence in the adjacent rooms while we set up camp on the front grassed area. We all had to share one fairly charmless toilet. A group photo of all of us, trekkers and staff, was a mandatory event that took a bit of organising. Dinner that night was dal baht to great acclaim, followed by a cake inscribed “Thanks for Visit 2000”, a rather thoughtful finale. The porters were paid off that night, although most actually returned as a group to Kathmandu next day.
The fractious dogs of Phedi must be related to those of Jomosom, while the occasional passing bus or truck after midnight sounded like the end of life as we know it.
Return to Normality
We started our re-induction into western life today. We dressed in our now well used walking gear, and were all packed up by the time our wake up tea arrived. I presented Jenny and Diana with a memento of the trip (or was it home?) – one of the elusive bottle brush (callistemon) flowers that were growing in the grounds at Phedi.
Even as we ate breakfast the kitchen, tents and baggage were being loaded aboard a waiting Tata bus, ready for our final 25 minute headlong dash to Pokhara. The layback seats did just that without any concessions to upright at all. We lumbered into life just before 08:00 and with increasing amounts of ‘horn please’ made our way into greater Pokhara and the Hungry Eye Hotel. We bade our staff a somewhat emotional farewell – they were all headed back to Kathmandu that day – following by some serious showering and washing. And so ended the trek, a wonderful event that was among the most memorable events of my life.
