From beyond Nepal

Trekking report to Annapurna Base Camp in October 2011.

A year ago, we listened to Kirill’s stories about the unusual Himalayas during our first experimental hike in Turkey. Nepal seemed to us something transcendental, very distant and almost unreal. The desire to see the highest mountains on Earth became stronger than the fears of unknown possible dangers, and we decided. For almost a whole year we lived in anticipation of this moment - the meeting of our group in Boryspil and the subsequent flight to that incredibly beautiful and diverse country, about which so many reviews of other travelers had already been read.

The training continued until the last day. And here we are with two backpacks, wary of what’s to come, standing at the Boryspil airport. The group was quite large and diverse, and not only getting to know each other, but simply remembering everyone’s names was not an easy task. Having packed our backpacks and taken the necessary belongings into hand luggage for spending the night at Sharjah airport, we said goodbye to rainy Kiev and took off skyward.

The United Arab Emirates was ablaze with bright lights at night, and an Arab Airlines plane was landing. We were presented with a modern airport, where the main passengers were anyone but pale-faced. Our group looked extremely unusual against the background of desert children and Indians. In their company, we spread an oilcloth on the floor and tried to fall asleep, in order to somehow pass the time. The long-awaited morning has arrived, and we are moving in the stream of Nepalese and Indians on the flight Sharjah - Kathmandu. The Nepalese greeted us warmly and asked where we were from and where we were going to go. Having heard that we were going to conquer the Annapurna base camp, they answered knowledgeably that this was a very good route and clicked their tongues with satisfaction.

Another 5 hours of somnambulistic sleep on the plane and, finally, we began to descend. The plane passed through layers of thick clouds, and we saw Nepal for the first time. The spectacle was stunning: the huge green hills were covered with cascades of rice fields, mountain rivers and roads that wound like serpentines, the hills were entirely dotted with dots of small blue and white houses. There were houses everywhere, and one got the impression that these were not villages, but separate settlements of people who settled wherever they wanted. Huge hills alternated with valleys, and mountain rivers flowed into gorges.

The plane landed and we ended up in Kathmandu. What can I say about Kathmandu - it simply stuns a stranger with its Hindu flavor, dirt, chaotic movement of all types of transport and people, and also on the streets, if you are not used to it, you can become deaf from the abundance of sounds of horns (but you get used to it over time).

Looking like shell-shocked American paratroopers, we, turning our heads and absorbing another world with all possible receptors, reached the bus. After loading up, we headed through the chaotic streets of Kathmandu to the tourist part of the city, the Thamel district. We were checked into a hotel and after that, not having come to a consensus on what to do next, the group ran off to do their own thing. Our small group first got used to Nepalese cuisine and then went in search of the missing equipment, haggling furiously with the sellers. After such a busy day and the understanding that tomorrow we would have to travel for more than 8 hours along the serpentines of the Kathmandu Valley, we happily passed out.

Pokhara

The morning started dark. And here we are standing with backpacks and the streets of pre-dawn Kathmandu are empty and mysterious, and only the shadows of huge fruit bats periodically flash at the height of the treetops. Finally a bus appears, we load our things and head out into the unknown. It was very difficult to determine exactly when the urban zone ended, because... small houses were everywhere along the entire road all the way to Pokhara. The bus was quite comfortable, and was equipped with an ultra-modern model of parking sensors in the form of a boy, who, when parking was needed, jumped out of the bus and began tapping the distance code to the nearest object from somewhere behind with his fingers.

The road... There’s a lot to write here, but I’ll describe just a few highlights. Many could not look through the windshield at the virtuoso skill of the bus driver, because the heart sank from his maneuvers in the oncoming lane. There are almost no traffic rules, traffic is on the right, and drivers are crazy confident that there is almost no point in slowing down on serpentine turns. And the most amazing thing is the communication between movement participants. What we took for the meaningless beeping of various types of pipes turned out to be a system of signals on the road. Almost all phrases are signaled by horns: “I’m behind, let me through”, “Why are you blocking the way”, “I’m moving”, “hello, how are you”, add to this a system of gestures from drivers from the windows. But what seemed most touching to me were the inscriptions in English See you (See you) and Please horn (Please honk!) on the back of the cars in front.

While we were driving, scenes of Nepalese rural life flashed outside the window: children riding on a huge bamboo swing, a girl combing the hair of an old grandmother in the yard, someone doing laundry, someone cleaning, someone feeding the children, someone washing. And noisy flocks of running children, as well as melancholic cows along the roads, were constant attributes of this landscape.

By the afternoon we were already approaching Pokhara. The landscape was filled with tropical colors and there was more greenery. Lake Phewa, along the shore of which we were moving towards our hotel, was shaded by the trunks of huge banyan trees, and their branches and roots stretched to the turquoise surface of the huge reservoir. Finally we arrived, checked into the hotel, came to our senses, and, without wasting a minute, set off to conquer Lake Phewa. We split into boats and rowed along the calm waters of the lake to a Hindu temple, which was located on an island in the middle of the river.

On this day, a celebration of some kind of holiday was taking place in this temple (as it turned out already at home, it was the Vijaya Dashami holiday, symbolizing the period of the beginning of the harvest), Hindus applied beauty to their foreheads, a huge line of people with offerings to the mother goddess Durga lined up at the entrance to the small temple. Armed police stood at the entrance and strictly monitored the appearance of parishioners, so as not to let non-believers through.

I was simply shocked by the reality of this action. It’s one thing to learn about Hinduism from books, but quite another to see how Hindus bring roosters and goats as sacrifices to the gods, read prayers and ring copper bells, how flower petals are burned and smoked incense, to see statues of gods splattered with red paint and ash. In our age, the morality of Western society denies this, but here it is like this.

After enjoying the introduction to Hindu beliefs, we swam to the other side of the lake, on the top of a cliff of which there was a Buddhist stupa of peace. To reach it, it was necessary to stretch the relaxed muscles of the legs and climb 500-600 meters along a path passing through the green tropical forest. Being unaccustomed to it, we, of course, got wet and reached the top with short stops.

The stupa was huge, and there was something harmonious and simple about it. At the very top of the hill, from there there was a beautiful view of the lake; you could see tiny boats scurrying along the water surface. People came with their families and sat in front of the stupa, as if they were coming for a picnic. Someone took off their sandals and climbed the steps to the face of the golden Buddha. After enjoying the views, we descended and paddled in the twilight to the opposite shore of the lake. This ended our acquaintance with Pokhara. The very next morning, a broken down bus, painted in Hindu style, was bouncing on the bumps, taking us to the beginning of the trek to the Annapurna Sanctuary...

Track

Dawn found us on the road, the crimson low sun was rising, and the light had not yet blinded his eyes, and at that time our bus was chugging and shaking on the dusty road to Nayapul. We arrived in Nayapul, a small village, a sort of transit route where the walking tracks begin and end. We checked in at the checkpoint and slowly crawled to the iron bridge over a stormy mountain river. We had breakfast at a restaurant near the bridge and began our journey with renewed vigor. At first the road began as a fairly wide path running along the edge of a hill along the river shoreline. The sun was hot, we were full of strength and walked forward cheerfully.

Along the way we came across small loggias where we could sit down and rest or buy water. A little further, the landscape began to change, cascading rice fields began to appear, there was more greenery, and the first bridges appeared. In fact, when we were going to Nepal, I was almost sure that most of the trek would look like a rocky landscape with rare red bushes of vegetation and strong winds, but as it turns out, 80 percent of this trek is jungle and rainforest. Simply breathtaking landscapes open up to you; the scale and grandeur of the Himalayas amazes you. Powerful rumbling mountain rivers and waterfalls that begin to flow from the clouds, and of course the gray tops of snow on the mountain peaks.

All along the way, the porters overtook us, loaded with the luggage of foreigners who were traveling light. After crossing the river, we found ourselves on the other side of the valley and the stone steps became more clearly visible, along which we began to cheerfully climb higher and higher. The first ascent was difficult, but my legs stubbornly pulled my body and backpack up. At the very top of the hill was the village of Uleri, where we stopped for the night in one of the loggias. During lunch we had time to get to know each other a little, and as soon as it got dark we saw for the first time the snowy peaks looming over the green hills.

The names of the loggias reflected exactly what is really true for a given loggia, i.e., if the loggia is called BestViewLodge, then it is the loggia with the best view, if it is TopOfTheHillLodge, then it is located on the top of the hill, if HungryEye, then you can have a hearty snack in this loggia.

The next morning we got up early and we started heading out to the track. The road from Uleri began to wind along the top of the hill, and we began to plunge into groves of rhododendrons and ferns. Our large group split into two smaller ones, the faster ones were in front, and the more curious ones were behind.

All day we slowly moved along the edge of the green hills, admiring the nature of the foothills of the Himalayas.

Our second day ended in the village of Ghorepani. Sitting at an altitude of 2860 meters, it was a stopover point to acclimatize and climb to an even higher point called Poon Hill, which is located at an altitude of 3200 meters above sea level. We stopped in a loggia, from where, according to Kirill, there was a magnificent view of the Annapurna mountain range and the eight-thousander Daulagiri mountain. Having come to our senses after the trek and having a snack, we moved to explore Pun Hill. The weather in the afternoon was cloudy as usual and nothing was visible from the observation tower at Pun Hill. In the morning it was decided that if there was visibility, we would climb Pun Hill again to see the entire mountain range in the rays of the rising sun. However, when we woke up in the morning, we discovered clouds in the sky, and only a group of brave people pulled themselves together and raced with a crowd of international tourists to try to see this spectacle. Fortunately, the weather cleared, the clouds cleared, and a blinding view of the snow-capped peaks of Daulagiri and Annapurna opened before our eyes. Having taken plenty of photographs of our sleepy faces against the backdrop of the snowy slopes, we collected our backpacks and began to climb up again.

The stone steps either turned into rhododendron roots under our feet, or again became stone slabs. The multi-tiered slopes of green hills seemed to be separated from the sparkling mountain peaks by layers of cirrus clouds. Somewhere in the distance a rumble was heard, a small airplane appeared against the backdrop of Daulagiri, like a tiny toy, it dived between the hills and flew along the river bed towards Pokhara.

On this day, the descents alternated with ascents, the landscape changed, we first climbed to the pass, and then from there we descended to the very bottom of the gorge. We walked along the mountain river almost to the end of the gorge and climbed up again, the waterfalls gave way to forest.

At the end of this day we had to walk through the rainforest and reach a loggia on the edge of a cliff. This forest was special, so dense, in the approaching evening twilight it seemed to breathe. Conversations in the group stopped on their own, and we walked in silence, listening to the breath of the Nepalese forest. In the end, the forest ended, and we found ourselves on a large area at the edge of the cliff, where our current shelter was located - a loggia with a lawn and a view of Mount Fishtail. That night, a huge stick insect was discovered and released from the web in the loggia toilet, and some participants were also bitten by land leeches.

Early in the morning we had a snack and moved down to the river, our path lay in the village of Chomrong. On the road to Chomrong we had probably the longest and steepest climb of all the sections where we had to go. Leaning on trekking poles, we walked up the steps higher and higher. And so, we are standing at the top of the pass, and a couple of vultures are diving into the gorge, and around there is a green wall of huge hills.

By the time we reached Chomrong, fog, mixed with clouds, covered the entire green passage, and the whitish sky followed us until the end of the day. Chomrong is not an ordinary village, it is unusual in that it is the last transit point before the direct road to the foot of Annapurna, then there is only one road for everyone, it clearly goes along the right bank of the gorge, along the mountain river and ends at the Annapurna base camp. Therefore, in Chomrong you can finally buy bottled drinking water (this is the last place on the trek where it is available), eat a delicious apple pie with cinnamon and wash it down with ginger tea, and then go down again, and the final climb up to the small village of Sinuwa completes everything.

How much effort it took us to crawl to Sinuva! The strength left us, desperately rearranging sticks, we stubbornly crawled up. And finally, the long-awaited vacation. Sinuva was completely in a fog. While we were settling in, it became dark, and we saw a whole kaleidoscope of various moths occupying areas near the light sources.

The next morning, as usual, we got up early. After breakfast, we got ready and headed to the village of Bambu. The weather was sunny, but due to the nature of the trail we walked under the canopy of trees. It was not hot, but there were views of the neighboring green slope of the gorge, huge waterfalls flowed from the top and flowed into a lush mountain river. At this time, the view of Machapuchre Peak loomed above us, the snow-capped peak shone like the incisor of a huge tooth, blinding the eye.

Racing with us were several groups that competed with us from the very beginning of the track, the Poles in self-resetting pants and the Japanese, fully equipped with a crew of porters behind. After passing Bambu, Dovan, we reached a village called Himalaya. After this village, the altitude began to increase, and the road began to go into alpine meadows at the foot of the glaciers. The village was simply buzzing with the number of tourists who were in it at the same time. We looked with curiosity at the faces of people who had recently returned from ABC.

After having a snack, we went to the final destination of our journey for today - the village of Deurali. The road went up again, the steps almost lost their shape and turned into pieces of rock fragments, laid out so that the foot had at least some opportunity to find support. The usual traces of mules and buffaloes on the track have disappeared. And the familiar green landscape began to fade, sparse undergrowth and rare coniferous trees began to surround us.

At the end of the road, it was necessary to cross two small bridges over seething mountain streams, which rushed with the sound of a passing train from the glaciers into the mountain river. It took endurance and fearlessness to quickly run across a handmade fragile bridge made of sticks secured with earth and grass, without any hint of handrails, over tons of icy water rushing down. What’s amazing is that the landscape clearly changed to alpine meadows, just beyond the bridge over the first mountain stream.

Having crossed the bridges twice, we reached our place for the night. Deurali was covered with dense fog, for the first time it became cold, but the altitude of our overnight stay was already the same as the top of Pun Hill - 3200 m. There were few places to stay for the night, and we didn’t have to choose much, we all slept in one room.

The next morning we woke up earlier than usual; today we had to reach the final point of our journey to ABC. With flashlights, in the pre-dawn haze, we puffed and walked. Our next stop, dictated primarily by the need for acclimatization, was the Machapuchre base camp. The road almost leveled out and ran flush with the edge of the mountain river; we walked along it, trying to see the outlines of the base camp houses in the distance. We finally saw the hidden houses on the top of the hill and the sun began to rise.

When we approached our camp site, the morning haze disappeared, and a view of Machapuchre and South Annapurna opened up before us. I forgot to say, before the final climb, we decided by voting that the majority would spend the night at the highest point of the trek, and a few people would spend the night at the Machapuchre base camp, where, if anything, it would be possible for those who were overcome by altitude sickness to descend.

We had breakfast in the loggia, took a rest and went towards the smoking peak of South Annapurna. Even though we left extra things in the loggia room at MBS, it was still difficult to walk. Despite the absence of a serious rise, the speed of advance was extremely slow. Perhaps the landscapes around us were also to blame. Huge space and incredibly close and such monumental snowy mountain peaks, whose height exceeds 7 thousand meters. The colorful clothing of the tourists stood out brightly against the backdrop of the sparkling snows of Annapurna. Of the vegetation, only mountain red bushes remained around, growing everywhere. Between them, a narrow path wound next to black boulders and slowly led us to ABC.

In less than a couple of hours, the already familiar white haze enveloped the peaks, and everything was plunged into fog. And here we are on ABC.

During the rest of the day spent on ABC, we found a pyramid monument to the famous climber Boukreev, who repeatedly conquered Everest, but found eternal peace in the snows of Annapurna. The pyramid was shrouded in a web of prayer flags, and in the depths was a small stone tablet on which was engraved his famous phrase: “Mountains are not stadiums where I satisfy my ambitions, they are temples where I practice my religion.”

Along the edge of the South Annapurna glacier, we rose to an unprecedented height - 4300 m. We tried to see the glacier through a dense curtain of fog, but the milky veil swirled and did not give us such an opportunity. Finally, the gods of Annapurna had mercy on us, and the fog cleared a little. Part of the glacier was exposed, from where water flowed in streams into the canyon, at the bottom of which there was a mixture of rock remains and melted ice. The glacier cracked, and periodically, blocks of ice broke off somewhere, and the sounds of shifting ice sheets echoed throughout the gorge. After such a feat, our small group went down and completely exhausted went to bed.

The night was restless and cold. In the morning, all the insulating materials went into use. As it turned out, during the night the temperature dropped below zero degrees and when we went out in the dark, putting on everything possible, in the moonlight it was visible that a thick layer of frost covered all the objects around. The sun had not yet risen, and only the moon illuminated the amphitheater of snowy peaks that surrounded us. The stars burned like a diamond necklace over the peaks of Annapurna. It was beginning to get light, the moon darkened, and pastel shades began to appear in the colors of the peaks. At the same time, several avalanches descended from Annapurna I before our eyes. Despite the sufficient distance from the source of the avalanche, the roar of falling snow echoed in the silence of the frosty air.

Sunlight inexorably continued to fill the entire space, and we moved to the ridge rising higher above the level of the base camp to see how the sun's rays would touch the peaks of the icy peaks and for a while color them the color of molten gold.

Puffing and stopping, we walked along a narrow path along the ridge. Then the path disappeared completely, and was replaced by huge boulders. The boulders also turned out to be gigantic powder, the stones began to move down with us. Having overcome this section, we found ourselves at an altitude of more than 4400 m above sea level. From here, the loggia houses at the base camp looked like matchboxes, and there was open space and mountains all around. And then the dawn rays touched the peaks and the peaks sparkled with red-golden light.

The sun rose higher and higher and soon the mountains began to shine with a snow-white cover. We started going down. The ascent turned out to be nothing compared to the descent. The boulders moved underfoot, the legs had difficulty obeying, and the frost on the stones, which had previously been an ice crust, made the stones wet and slippery. After some time, we went down and immediately rushed to replenish our energy reserves by eating breakfast.

Today we had a long descent ahead of us. According to the plans, we had to cover the distance that we covered in 2 days, going up. According to preliminary estimates, we should have approached Sinuva already in the dark. Not to waste time, we packed up and hit the road again.

Our legs were already in good shape, and we quickly covered the route from ABC to the Himalaya village. But there was still a path ahead from the Himalayas to Sinuva, approximately the same distance as the section of the path that we had already covered. It was decided to stop for lunch in Dovan. The anticipation of lunch spurred everyone on and we got there at a wild pace. After lunch, we went out to the Dovan – Bambu section of the road.

The weather deteriorated right before our eyes, a light rain began to fall, but we got the hang of it, jumping on trekking poles over the roots of trees, like a group of parkour lovers, we rushed along the wet path through the jungle, racing with the weather. Having reached the village of Bambu, we realized that there was still quite a long section of the road ahead and with cries of “Namasteee!” ran forward. Who would have thought that Bambu is located lower than the Sinuwa village. The forces were leaving the detachment, the rain was falling steadily, and then steps appeared leading into the heavens. The rise was simply fantastic, but this milestone was also overcome.

And so our group with two flashlights makes its way along a winding path in the night tropical forest. The first sign of the near end of today's journey was the guide Sasha with a flashlight, who came out to meet the second part of the group to provide all possible assistance. Following his appearance, the lights of the Sinuva village began to appear in the darkness...

The next day was a continuation of yesterday in terms of mileage and speed of descent. The last common point with the route along which we walked to the ABC was the village of Chomrong. After it, our path went sharply down to the hot springs. Jets of hot water flowed from the pipes and filled a small pool, and a mountain river roared next to it.

After swimming and lunch, the descent continued. As a result, we came to a long suspension bridge called NewBridge. Having crossed it, the road ceased to be full of sharp descents and ascents, and we safely reached the village of Landruk.

Our lodge belonged to a family of the Gurung hill people, and in the evening they gave us a show. The village children performed folk dances, and at the end of the evening the children dragged almost all of us onto the impromptu dance floor.

The next day we moved at a fast pace to the final destination of our journey, the village of Nayapul. We walked quite quickly and came to the end of the track even a little earlier than the planned time. I couldn’t even believe that our walking journey ended so quickly.

We loaded onto the bus and headed to Pokhara. In Pokhara, part of the group remained for further rafting along the river. The rest were in Kathmandu 8 hours later.

The next day we visited four attractions in Kathmandu. The Hindu shrine is the Pashupatinah Temple, a holy place for Hindus, because once upon a time the god Shiva in the form of a deer jumped over the hills and broke off his divine horn, on the site of which a Hindu temple dedicated to Shiva was built.

Ancient Hindu tombs, sadhus, aggressive monkeys, cripples and incredible wood and stone paintings on the themes of Hindu gods - all this is there. In addition, on the banks of the river flowing through the territory of the temple complex, cremation of Hindus takes place, since the close proximity to the holy place is considered important by the local population. The location of the nursing home on the territory of this complex is very indicative. The courtyard of this establishment was littered with wooden logs on which the dead wrapped in a white shroud were being burned around the corner. In a word, this place leaves a unique feeling.

The next attraction was the Buddhanath stupa. Buddhanath Stupa is the main center of Tibetan Buddhism in Nepal, as well as the most peaceful and harmonious place in Kathmandu. There are active Buddhist monasteries in a circle around the stupa. The smell of incense and the sounds of chanting mantras transport you to another world of contrast in Nepal. Into a world of harmony, peace and contemplation. This place is so inviting that while you are there, time begins to flow by unnoticed. The wind sways the flags, people spin prayer wheels - life is filled with simplicity and freedom. We brought some of this mood with us.

Further our path lay to the Swayabudhnath stupa, also known as the Monkey Temple. A place where the religions of Hinduism and Buddhism coexist in peace and harmony. Hindu altars stand next to Buddhist stupas. The monkeys feel like real masters here. And besides, this is the highest point in Kathmandu, from where a magnificent view of the city districts opens.

After a short walk, we moved to the last attraction - Durbar Square. The living goddess Kumari, the incarnation of Shiva’s wife Parvati (aka Kali), lives here. We were taken into the courtyard and, by coincidence, the goddess appeared to us. A little girl dressed in red and black clothes looked at the multi-colored crowd of tourists with an unblinking gaze for a couple of minutes, and then silently disappeared behind the carved shutters. The tourists responded by rewarding her with a storm of applause. Despite the beautiful pagodas and the statue of Shiva in the form of a deity with sabers in his hands, the square was crowded with people, the movement did not stop for a minute.

The next day there was a freestyle program and, breaking away in a small group, we decided to once again visit the Buddhanath stupa and go to Patan Dubrar Square. Patan Durbar Square is a more beautiful and traffic-free alternative to Kathmandu Durbar Square. A large square with ancient Hindu-style buildings and black and red pagodas. This completed the excursion program in Kathmandu.

So imperceptibly, the last day in Nepal has come to an end, things are collected, souvenirs are bought and we are going to the airport. Five hours of sleep, and we are already in Sharjah, and Kyiv is already there.

Now, the fact that we went there seems so irrational. In our gray cities, under the patter of autumn rains, the uniform hum of public transport and the quiet, barely audible rustle of falling snow, it is so difficult to imagine that somewhere there life is not crammed into a tight framework, but continues to be the same as it was a hundred and even a thousand years ago. We dreamed about our trek for a long time; the Himalayas did not want to let their pilgrims go, even after we had already become accustomed to the rituals of city life. But we know that we will return there to once again become part of something that is so difficult to explain in words.