Trampoosing in India: A million stone staircases and pashmina for days

The mosquitos are out and they're out in numbers. I'm talking squadrons. Platoons. Real organization. That said, this post might end abrubtly and at a really strange time if I decide that the blood loss is too great. I may not make it through. Pray for me.

I slipped out of the mountains yesterday and hopped on a bus to Lumbini, the birthplace of the Buddha, where I'm writing from now. The other computers are all being operated by crimson-robed monks. I have thoughts and a couple bizarre photos that I want to share, but I'm going to hold my tongue for now and talk a minute about the most recent trampoose, to the Annapurna massif.

After a lot of trying to find trekking companions in Pokhara (read, muddling about), I decided to try and set off on the so-called 'Annapurna Sanctuary' trek, passing by both the Annapurna and Machapuchhre base camps, alone and just turn back if things got dicey or if I decided that I do actually need a guide to do this. You never know, but experience has told me that if you take your time, and talk a lot, you rarely need a guide for anything. Then you don't have to stop and listen to tedious lectures. Or, better, you _can_ stop. Even when there's no lecture prepared.

I indulged in a ripoff Leki hiking pole with all the money I imagined I was saving by employing neither guide nor porter and didn't even feel like an old man when I used it. Walking sticks are great. You can go forever with that tap, tap, tap. This one was named "Best Friend," on Rachel's suggestion. Tied to the handle was one of my cat finger puppets, the pink one named Guide. And so Guide, Best Friend and I set off early in the morning and climbed the first (massive) staircase into the hills above Phedi to the first of a series of wonderful mountain cottages.

The trekking in this area is known as tea-house trekking because you're actually walking through tiny, remote mountain villages the entire way. I don't know why it never occured to me before but, of course, people live in the Himalaya. In the Annapurna Conservation Area, I mostly met Gurung, Sherpa and Tibetans. Most of the economy has to do with catering to the steady traffic of foreign trekkers passing through all year long. You can buy apple pies and sleep in guest houses every night, all the way to the Annapurna Sanctuary (usually a 10 day trek in all). That, however, does not mean that this is just a little light walking. These are serious trails. Doable, yes. But beefy. I thought the hike around Macchu Picchu was bad... I thought climbing up a couple Aztec temples was bad. Oh, god. This was a walk up a million stone staircases to the roof of the world. A billion stone staircases. The stairway to heaven. And, holy shit, is heaven high.

It's hard to decide what aspect of the trek to write about so I'll just try and explain the story alluded to in the first photo below.

Like I said, I began the trek alone. This was great. I like spending time alone anyway. People, noise, pollution, &c. are a little too much for me to deal with all at once sometimes. Here I am, wobbling my way over the first in a series of passes, excited and full of energy. The cherry trees are exploding with pink and with life and the sky is perfect (eat your heart out, Cloud Appreciation Society). I part ways with this guy I had met as he arrives at the village where he lives. I had been carrying his axe for him while he gathered cow patties for fertilizer and we both speculated on the origin of my walking stick. Obvious ripoff, but from where? He said he liked Americans because he once owned a maglite flashlight and it was great quality. He attributed this to California. Good man.

So. We parted ways and I arrived soonafter at the ACAP checkpoint where they assure that you've paid for the privilage to trek around the Annapurna Reserve. I had paid and was waiting for the guy in front of me to be processed so I could sign the log book and be on my way but it became clear really quickly that, this time, it wouldn't be a quick formality. The guard was howling and laughing. The foreigner, draped in a huge red fleece and a huge, bright yellow backpack with no stomache strap, was embarassed by the unexpected attention. I was summoned forward.

"I'm going to make him wait, so you go first," the guard announced, "because he's been giving me a headache for four days now!" Hey? Brandon, dude in question, had just been found. He didn't realize it until then, but he was official lost. Had been for four days. His friends ,who had been panicking all week, were now anticipating his arrival at Landruk, a hill station a long day's walk from where we now stood. He had fallen ill and was unable to meet them where they had arranged that night. Or the next, or the next. He was reported missing. Finally healthy enough to walk again, he was back on the trail. By the simple fact of my being there, the guard announced that I had "found" him and asked me to escort him to Landruk. I wasn't sure if he was joking, so I agreed. What the hell. Not that this guy needed an escort, but I could use the company. And so I fell in with the reunited group of four with the same trekking plans as myself for the rest of the trampoose.

I could go on for ages if I tried since everything is still so fresh in my mind. But I won't. Just one last, quick description of the Annapurna Base Camp/Sanctuary. Imagine being in a grove of enormous redwood trees, or mahogany or some really big tree. Totally surrounding you. Now turn those trees into some of the tallest and some of the steepest mountains in the world. A narrow valley of giants with a tear right through the middle of it where a glacier passed through ages ago, leaving the ground there just a river of sand and pebbles, totally barren to this day. The cloudline, when it's not snowing, is in the lower part of the valley, so you can watch the clouds pour in and out of the mouth of the pass in a single afternoon like waves creeping ever so slowly onto the beach and receding into the ocean. Cairns everywhere. One, at the snowline, of a giant A, which I think stands for "Andy."

It's always really hard to choose which photos to put on the internet and this time I'm not even posting a good closeup of the snowy mountains. So if you want to see them you'll either have to ask me for one or look it up online.. Fair warning: everything looks fake, anyway, like a gargantuan movie backdrop strung up over a really long distance.

Shortly after being reunited, near the beginning of the trampoose in question.

View from a hill. Poon Hill at sunrise, last day of walking. And what a day it was. Massive decent from the ceiling of the world in one day makes for some seriously sore legs - and knees.