We are here! OH YA!
Nairobi is sweetly cool, about 20C and overcast, occasional drizzle.
We leave for our safari in a few days, then trek Mt Kenya and booked our gorilla tracking for Aug 28th...how cool is that?
Updates after safari!
xox
dayna
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
more cheesy self portraits for the moms!
Me taking photos of Shilo taking photos (as always).
Patan's, a small city next to Kathmandu, amazing Durbar Square.
Sitting in an intricately carved alcove in a temple in Durbar Square, Patan.
This Stupa (buddhist memorial/shrine) was built by the Indian emperor, Ashoka, 2500 years ago.
Temples, temples, everywhere!
From 1 0f 2 balconies in our fabulous hotel room (400 rupees, about six dollars), with Kathmandu spreading out behind us.
Shilo getting sick of me trying to get self portraits even BEFORE breakfast.
Who's cool?
The Jaw Droppers
Back when I was 17 and working at a golf course restaurant we used to sneak out into the loading dock for a 'rem'...a cigarette. We called them 'rems' because during our smoke break shit-talk we would inevitably reminisce about the 'good old days' when we were 15.
Well, it's time for a rem.
This is a list (we all love lists, no?) of the draw-dropping moments experienced during our last seven months of travel through the Subcontinent. These are times when I actually had to physically push my jaw shut. As we shall see, more often than not it's the unplanned, unexpected moments of infinite strangeness one encounters while travelling that stay with you.
1) Climbing barefoot (out of respect) in terrible heat to the top of a 1000m hill in South India. The hill itself is considered a giant shiva-lingam, a phallus. The mountaintop was coated in two inches of greasy-slick black oil -ghee- the fuel used for sacred offerings in Hindu ritual. We waited for nightfall, when a 30 foot tall pillar of ghee-soaked rag was lit aflame, and watched as the devout chanted and danced around a giant, flaming cock. You're not in Kansas...
2) Being drawn into an Indian crowd (with emphasis: an Indian crowd) on a Maduraii street to find a tiny girl, four years at most and dressed in a filthy pink dress, balancing along a length of wire suspended 15 feet off the shit-splattered pavement. The drums clamoured a sad yet unrepentant rhythm; her eyes were flat grey cardboard.
3) Six in the morning, sweating to drink hot chai on an even hotter anonymous industrial Indian streetcorner, and watching a boy of six or seven sink onto his knees in a two-foot deep gutter of stinking raw sewage to clean out a blocked pipe with his bare hands.
4) Morning puja (worship) at the Sri Meenakshi Temple, Maduraii. Smoke of flame and incense. Manic chanting of a thousand devotees, drums and ancient gongs, coconut and flower offerings, giant stone phallus (and yoni), runes carved in the floor obscured by twenty centuries of sweat, oil, and blood. Paganism in all it's majesty.
5) The apparition of a Kathikali dancer hovering above the stage. It's just too bizarre: a vicious conjuration of love and fever.
6) The all-male baccanalia that is the New Year's Day parade in Cochin, Kerala. All-male because, well, Hindi women aren't permitted to dance, sing, party or otherwise socialize publicly with strangers. So the parade was a sort of retrograde frat party...but also a chance for the male half of the population to escape the self-made boundaries of their own sexual repression. In short, very conflicted: burning Santa effigies; preening cross-dressers being cheered and jeered by hoards of desperately horny adolescents; zoned blue-painted raver kids high on gas; floats rolling by (being pulled by that class of Indians not fortunate enough to celebrate much) with folks posing in elaborate costumes sourced from the sacred text the Ramayana, the Christian nativity, E.T., Ghandi's Salt March, the Scream movie series, etc. There is more in heaven and earth...
7) Rattling along at 60km/hour on a train into Mumbaii and passing through two hours of burlap-sack and ragged-tarp roofed slum.
8) Rage, shame and powerlessness while watching a young Muslim man beat the shit out of his wife on the crowded Saturday steps of the 'floating Mosque' in Mumbaii. To be sure, not an accurate representation of the tenets of Mohammad (I've since read Karen Armstrong's biography of Mohammad; she is the most accessible and insightful theological historian I've come across, and this book should be read by everyone with an interest in Trying To Figure Out What The Fuck Is Going On.)
9) The first time I saw a camel, complete with cart and driver, trolloping through the stinging red dust on a typically insane Rajasthani street.
10) Excited to finally burst out of a sweltering bus in Jaipur and nearly knocking over a wailing beggar-lady thrusting a rag-wrapped, horrendously still, pale-blue baby in the air.
11) The Taj Mahal. It's worth flying to Delhi and hopping on a direct (air-conditioned!) bus to Agra just to spend two days with the Taj.
12) The cremation ceremonies of Varanasi. The sublime and the profane coincide...in the West we would call it Satanic: divinity confused with the stench of crude matter. But we are wrong.
13) My first breathless glimpse of the South Face of Annapurna I. This mountain redefined my definition of climbing, and made me realize even further what a chickenshit rock-jock I am.
14) At 15,000 feet, watching a Nepali man, old enough to be my grandfather, climb meditatively up a massive series of rough stone steps carrying a basket of stone blocks supported by a strap across his forehead. Respect.
Cheers, all! We're off to Africa!!
Well, it's time for a rem.
This is a list (we all love lists, no?) of the draw-dropping moments experienced during our last seven months of travel through the Subcontinent. These are times when I actually had to physically push my jaw shut. As we shall see, more often than not it's the unplanned, unexpected moments of infinite strangeness one encounters while travelling that stay with you.
1) Climbing barefoot (out of respect) in terrible heat to the top of a 1000m hill in South India. The hill itself is considered a giant shiva-lingam, a phallus. The mountaintop was coated in two inches of greasy-slick black oil -ghee- the fuel used for sacred offerings in Hindu ritual. We waited for nightfall, when a 30 foot tall pillar of ghee-soaked rag was lit aflame, and watched as the devout chanted and danced around a giant, flaming cock. You're not in Kansas...
2) Being drawn into an Indian crowd (with emphasis: an Indian crowd) on a Maduraii street to find a tiny girl, four years at most and dressed in a filthy pink dress, balancing along a length of wire suspended 15 feet off the shit-splattered pavement. The drums clamoured a sad yet unrepentant rhythm; her eyes were flat grey cardboard.
3) Six in the morning, sweating to drink hot chai on an even hotter anonymous industrial Indian streetcorner, and watching a boy of six or seven sink onto his knees in a two-foot deep gutter of stinking raw sewage to clean out a blocked pipe with his bare hands.
4) Morning puja (worship) at the Sri Meenakshi Temple, Maduraii. Smoke of flame and incense. Manic chanting of a thousand devotees, drums and ancient gongs, coconut and flower offerings, giant stone phallus (and yoni), runes carved in the floor obscured by twenty centuries of sweat, oil, and blood. Paganism in all it's majesty.
5) The apparition of a Kathikali dancer hovering above the stage. It's just too bizarre: a vicious conjuration of love and fever.
6) The all-male baccanalia that is the New Year's Day parade in Cochin, Kerala. All-male because, well, Hindi women aren't permitted to dance, sing, party or otherwise socialize publicly with strangers. So the parade was a sort of retrograde frat party...but also a chance for the male half of the population to escape the self-made boundaries of their own sexual repression. In short, very conflicted: burning Santa effigies; preening cross-dressers being cheered and jeered by hoards of desperately horny adolescents; zoned blue-painted raver kids high on gas; floats rolling by (being pulled by that class of Indians not fortunate enough to celebrate much) with folks posing in elaborate costumes sourced from the sacred text the Ramayana, the Christian nativity, E.T., Ghandi's Salt March, the Scream movie series, etc. There is more in heaven and earth...
7) Rattling along at 60km/hour on a train into Mumbaii and passing through two hours of burlap-sack and ragged-tarp roofed slum.
8) Rage, shame and powerlessness while watching a young Muslim man beat the shit out of his wife on the crowded Saturday steps of the 'floating Mosque' in Mumbaii. To be sure, not an accurate representation of the tenets of Mohammad (I've since read Karen Armstrong's biography of Mohammad; she is the most accessible and insightful theological historian I've come across, and this book should be read by everyone with an interest in Trying To Figure Out What The Fuck Is Going On.)
9) The first time I saw a camel, complete with cart and driver, trolloping through the stinging red dust on a typically insane Rajasthani street.
10) Excited to finally burst out of a sweltering bus in Jaipur and nearly knocking over a wailing beggar-lady thrusting a rag-wrapped, horrendously still, pale-blue baby in the air.
11) The Taj Mahal. It's worth flying to Delhi and hopping on a direct (air-conditioned!) bus to Agra just to spend two days with the Taj.
12) The cremation ceremonies of Varanasi. The sublime and the profane coincide...in the West we would call it Satanic: divinity confused with the stench of crude matter. But we are wrong.
13) My first breathless glimpse of the South Face of Annapurna I. This mountain redefined my definition of climbing, and made me realize even further what a chickenshit rock-jock I am.
14) At 15,000 feet, watching a Nepali man, old enough to be my grandfather, climb meditatively up a massive series of rough stone steps carrying a basket of stone blocks supported by a strap across his forehead. Respect.
Cheers, all! We're off to Africa!!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
How to Look Like a Dipshit Tourist
From top to bottom:
1) Ragged straw cowboy hat, AKA "the Pendejo" (Spanish for asshole...or something like that.)
2) Fake turquoise necklace you paid way too much for because: "Old Tibetan ladies have such wonderful smiles."
3) Coke-bottle glasses, perpetually steamy.
4) A half-assed beard.
5) Hawaiian shirt, at least two sizes too big...because you've shrunk.
6) Backpack. Brand name: American Tourister
7) Shorts. Nobody except tourists and urban twenty-somethings wear shorts in Nepal; it's a sign of low class (so no conflict there).
8) An umbrella. Because it might rain. Also useful for stabbing rabid mongrels, poking leprous beggars, and slashing at thieving street urchins. Oh, and battering aggressive popsicle-stealing monkeys.
9) Fabulous Chaco sandals, the new Birkenstocks. (That one's for you, Markus.)
With Love,
The Dipshit Tourist
1) Ragged straw cowboy hat, AKA "the Pendejo" (Spanish for asshole...or something like that.)
2) Fake turquoise necklace you paid way too much for because: "Old Tibetan ladies have such wonderful smiles."
3) Coke-bottle glasses, perpetually steamy.
4) A half-assed beard.
5) Hawaiian shirt, at least two sizes too big...because you've shrunk.
6) Backpack. Brand name: American Tourister
7) Shorts. Nobody except tourists and urban twenty-somethings wear shorts in Nepal; it's a sign of low class (so no conflict there).
8) An umbrella. Because it might rain. Also useful for stabbing rabid mongrels, poking leprous beggars, and slashing at thieving street urchins. Oh, and battering aggressive popsicle-stealing monkeys.
9) Fabulous Chaco sandals, the new Birkenstocks. (That one's for you, Markus.)
With Love,
The Dipshit Tourist
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
it's been awhile....
I just scanned through the blog, it has been some time since I did a real post. I haven't put more than a few words and some pics since India.
Well, nothing more than my blatant kayak bragging ;-)
I cannot believe that it was more than 2 months since we first arrived in Nepal. First off, we entered Nepal as a trio, and we are back to a twosome. I think both Shilo and I were completely surprised at how instantaneously we missed my brother on his departure. Traveling with Dylan was a joy. The three of us happily (I hope Dyl agrees) spent 24/7 together for a month, without any major disputes. DESPITE the crazy heat, the crazy Indians, and very unfortunate transit luck. He, gallantly, even took on the moderator role between Shilo and I. I feel so blessed that we not only get along so well, but also are lucky enough to travel for an extensive time together. I am already dreaming of future travel trips with my amazing brother.
Secondly, Nepal is a dream after India. Cooler climate, warmer people, better variety in food, cheaper accommodation, and FANTASTIC outdoor activities. We have completely blown our budget. NOT counting our kayaking excursions we have gone from living on less than $20 CAD to over $40 CAD per day. We are stocking up on steak, pizza, falafel, beef burgers (REAL BEEF BURGERS), buffalo momos, and drinks before heading to Africa, where we hear the food is bland and repetitive.
Every day of our treks was overwhelmingly beautiful and grand. That's Nepal...GRAND, how can it not be with the Himalaya? But it is not only the scenery. The people, as a generalization, are warm, compassionate, and welcoming. Luckily for us, many have substantially better English than our Nepali and are happy to talk about their family histories, customs, current politics and their hopes/fears for Nepal's future.
We met three really interesting young Americans on our last trek. I was envious as the spoke fluent Nepali. Obviously, their discussions and everyday interactions with the locals had a much greater depth than ours, we learned a lot from speaking with them and their friend/guide. This reinforced a feeling that has been with me for awhile.
Although I am loving our trip and feel completely blessed that we are able to travel for such a long time, I have realized that this is not my ideal traveling style. You just skim the surface of the culture...constantly moving, not knowing the language, not involved in the local community.... In the future I want to go to one area of one country and stay for at least a few months. Either working or volunteering, hopefully staying with a local family and taking language courses. THAT said, I can also see myself repeating a trip similar to now in the future, because there is just too many places to see in the world. You just can't have it all ;-)
We head to Africa on the 20th of July. I know NOTHING. We left the guide book in Delhi, so I have dibs on reading it first...I feel a little out of sorts as I can't even say where we are going, let alone what we are doing once we get there. Shilo hasn't been able to do the background/history readings that he normal does, and I am feeling the lack of information via osmosis through him! In Delhi we hope to pick up a few books.
I am still feeling burnt out on sightseeing. In Africa, ahem- I think, more of our plans are outdoor related: gorillas, safaris, treks, kayaking. With a few sites thrown in. We are also hoping to do some volunteer work through World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. Basically a network of organic farmers who trade room and board for volunteer labour. In Africa they also frequently have other aid related work: school, medical, skills development etc.
I am also consistently homesick. I miss my family, friends and the sheer convenience and comfort of 'home'. I miss wearing clothes that are comfortable for the climate I am in. Not to mention fun and flirty clothes. I miss clean water out of the tap and quality newspapers. I miss my bed. I am even starting to miss work. When talking to the young Americans, I dominated the conversation for an hour--talking about my work up north. I realized afterwards that I missed my work, patients and peer relationships.
NOW, MOMS ---don't get your hopes up. I am homesick, but I am not ready to come home yet. I am still way too excited about what our next few months hold. But don't be surprised if I skype more often ;-0
That's all folks, more from AFRICA!!!!
xoxo
day
Well, nothing more than my blatant kayak bragging ;-)
I cannot believe that it was more than 2 months since we first arrived in Nepal. First off, we entered Nepal as a trio, and we are back to a twosome. I think both Shilo and I were completely surprised at how instantaneously we missed my brother on his departure. Traveling with Dylan was a joy. The three of us happily (I hope Dyl agrees) spent 24/7 together for a month, without any major disputes. DESPITE the crazy heat, the crazy Indians, and very unfortunate transit luck. He, gallantly, even took on the moderator role between Shilo and I. I feel so blessed that we not only get along so well, but also are lucky enough to travel for an extensive time together. I am already dreaming of future travel trips with my amazing brother.
Secondly, Nepal is a dream after India. Cooler climate, warmer people, better variety in food, cheaper accommodation, and FANTASTIC outdoor activities. We have completely blown our budget. NOT counting our kayaking excursions we have gone from living on less than $20 CAD to over $40 CAD per day. We are stocking up on steak, pizza, falafel, beef burgers (REAL BEEF BURGERS), buffalo momos, and drinks before heading to Africa, where we hear the food is bland and repetitive.
Every day of our treks was overwhelmingly beautiful and grand. That's Nepal...GRAND, how can it not be with the Himalaya? But it is not only the scenery. The people, as a generalization, are warm, compassionate, and welcoming. Luckily for us, many have substantially better English than our Nepali and are happy to talk about their family histories, customs, current politics and their hopes/fears for Nepal's future.
We met three really interesting young Americans on our last trek. I was envious as the spoke fluent Nepali. Obviously, their discussions and everyday interactions with the locals had a much greater depth than ours, we learned a lot from speaking with them and their friend/guide. This reinforced a feeling that has been with me for awhile.
Although I am loving our trip and feel completely blessed that we are able to travel for such a long time, I have realized that this is not my ideal traveling style. You just skim the surface of the culture...constantly moving, not knowing the language, not involved in the local community.... In the future I want to go to one area of one country and stay for at least a few months. Either working or volunteering, hopefully staying with a local family and taking language courses. THAT said, I can also see myself repeating a trip similar to now in the future, because there is just too many places to see in the world. You just can't have it all ;-)
We head to Africa on the 20th of July. I know NOTHING. We left the guide book in Delhi, so I have dibs on reading it first...I feel a little out of sorts as I can't even say where we are going, let alone what we are doing once we get there. Shilo hasn't been able to do the background/history readings that he normal does, and I am feeling the lack of information via osmosis through him! In Delhi we hope to pick up a few books.
I am still feeling burnt out on sightseeing. In Africa, ahem- I think, more of our plans are outdoor related: gorillas, safaris, treks, kayaking. With a few sites thrown in. We are also hoping to do some volunteer work through World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. Basically a network of organic farmers who trade room and board for volunteer labour. In Africa they also frequently have other aid related work: school, medical, skills development etc.
I am also consistently homesick. I miss my family, friends and the sheer convenience and comfort of 'home'. I miss wearing clothes that are comfortable for the climate I am in. Not to mention fun and flirty clothes. I miss clean water out of the tap and quality newspapers. I miss my bed. I am even starting to miss work. When talking to the young Americans, I dominated the conversation for an hour--talking about my work up north. I realized afterwards that I missed my work, patients and peer relationships.
NOW, MOMS ---don't get your hopes up. I am homesick, but I am not ready to come home yet. I am still way too excited about what our next few months hold. But don't be surprised if I skype more often ;-0
That's all folks, more from AFRICA!!!!
xoxo
day
The Annapurna Circuit Trek
Salt, according to Che Guevara's classic how-to manual Guerilla Warfare (an unintentionally parodic manifesto when viewed historically that I snatched from the limp and pallid hand of a Hampi pseudo-hippy) is the one thing a sweaty jungle warrior cannot live without. Women, booze, food, even Cuban tobacco - no problem, amigo. But according to Che life without salt is simply not a life worth raiding small villages for.
Salt is the reason the Annapurna Circuit trek exists; it follows a millennia-old trading route between the great salt lakes of the Tibetan Plateau and banana-growing lowlanders edging up to the Gangetic Basin. The trek is an absolute marvel: over 300km in length, it passes through at least six cultural zones (some still remarkably distinct, some heavily syncretized), two massive drainage basins and river systems, and three or four climactic zones to it's chilly climax, the Thorung La, a Himalayan mountain pass of just under 18,000 feet. We spent nearly three weeks on the trek; I can speak for both Day and I when I say it was one of the best times of our lives.
We did the trek in the middle of monsoon...and had fantastic weather. The Annapurna Massive contains over 50 (!) 'minor' peaks which are over 15,000ft. This creates a massive rainshadow that blocks monsoonal rains moving North. We generally had clear skies in the morning, then it would cloud over in the afternoon, then open up again in the evening: perfect hiking weather and plenty of opportunity to see Himalayan giants floating in mist above. Clouds would ring a valley, and it would look remarkably like certain spots in BC. Then they would part to reveal the real mountains behind, adding at least twice as much vertical, and we would realize what we thought was valley-top were only minor foothills.
The Annapurna Circuit Trek is the most popular in Nepal, receiving over 75,000 visits annually. Most visitors come during peak season in Autumn. We've heard stories of trekkers sleeping on the floors and tables of trekking lodges because all accommodation is full, or racing with other groups to be the first into the village to get a room. We saw -get this- no more than 15 other trekkers during the entire three weeks. This meant we could barter for food and rooms (prices along the trek are fixed by committee to prevent cut-throat pricing, but when the every lodge in the village is deserted it gave us a certain...competitive leverage). It also meant that the villagers were less swamped with tourists, and we had plenty of opportunity for lengthy chats with locals.
NOTE: Blogger is stupid and posts photos in reverse; or I'm stupid and can't be fucked to figure out Blogger. Either way, the photos are posted bass-awkwards. To get to the start of the trek pretend your reading the Torah and go ALL the (long way) down and read upward.
The Kali Gandaki River. This is one of the rivers Day and I kayaked in May...at it's middle section and pre-monsoon!
First lowland villages were decimated by decline in the salt trade due to cheaper Indian exports and the occupation of Tibet. They moved into rice production, which was eventually made unprofitable due to the 'aid' of the UN's World Food Program. Next they set up businesses catering to trekkers, and were bankrupted by the new road, which was also around the time anyone under thirty said 'Fuck this digging and planting and shit, I'm moving to Kathmandu.' Result: some villages are essentially ghost-towns being overtaken by the invasive weed cannabis. Bong on, dude.
If you can't get a donkey to carry it, you carry it. Summer wheat harvest in Kagbeni. The wheat is hand-cut with a scythe, then threshed by laying it across paths for livestock and people to trample on.
Some villages are a creative mix of Buddhism, Hinduism, and Bon-Po (the pre-Buddhist anamist tradition of Tibet). This ten-foot tall protector diety guards a Medieval entrance way in Kagbeni.
It could be the Cental Interior of BC, but it's the village of Kagbeni, at around 13,000ft in the Kali Gandaki Valley; said to be the deepest valley in the world as it lies between two 8000m peaks, Annapurna and Daulagiri. Our route went South from here, but if you follow the river North you enter the sacred and restricted land of Mustang.
I worship goat skulls painted with silver runes. You got a problem?
A female protector diety, about six feet high, made of painted clay.
This woman chips stone ten hours a day, in 3o degree heat, while raising her child.
The first village one encounters after crossing the Thorung La Pass is Muktinath, a sacred village holy to both Buddhists and Hindus. We heard about a festival celebrating the arrival of a 'big Llama' (a high-ranking Buddhist monk), and decided to stay a few days. The entire village turned out: folks dressed in traditional Tibetan attire, burned incense in makeshift altars set along the stone path, danced and chanted. These are trumpeters announcing the Llamas arrival.
The procession heading toward the Buddhist monastery in Muktinath. The 'big Llama' (that's all anyone called him) is under the yellow parasol in the back. The monk with the bitchin' shades in the midground is a Chinese spy.
Village matriarchs line up to offer blessings and butter-sculpture offerings to the big Llama.
A Tibetan lady trying to keep a straight face for the goofy tourist. She is wearing a traditional head-dress of (giant) turquiose, and a necklace of turquoise and coral. I haven't figured out yet why a land-locked mountain region like Tibet would choose coral as a sacred semi-prcious stone, although it probably has something to do with its relative scarcity.
Waitin' for the big Llama.
This guy was in charge of keeping the juniper incense burning. He took his job pretty seriously.
Every village of Tibetan Buddhist influence has a series of prayer wheels at it's entrance gates. You spin the wheels and the prayer is released into the world. Nice, huh?
Dayna, my lovely wife, with a snotty worm. :)
A Buddhist nun.
Looking across the Kali Gandaki Vally toward Dhaulagiri.
Tibetan Buddhist interior decor: plastic flowers, stuffed swine and cuddly bears, a vessel containing rice blessed for good luck, a sacred chest of religious paraphenalia.
A chorten with prayer flags in Muktinath.
Windy prayer flags.
"I'm carrying 50lbs of wire by a strap on my head, at 15,000ft, at dusk...and some stupid tourist is in my way!"
Gangapurna (7000-and-something) materializes through dawn cloud.
As above.
Ram skulls are cool...especially when they're mounted on the hood of a Cadillac.
A Tibetan yak-herder settlement.
Dayna blazing through the 'scary deathtrap' section of the trail to Tilicho Tal, claimed to be the highest lake in the world. The guidebook was full of doom and gloom about this section, and we met a (British) trekker who had turned back, terrified at the prospect of crossing a loose gravel landslide with a 1000ft fall into the river. But like many Canadian kids we both grew up playing in gravel pits and had absolutely no problem.
Hi everybody!
Tilicho Tal, the 'Great Ice Lake' that Herzog crossed on a scouting trip during the first ascent of Annapurna in the 50's. Claimed to be the highest lake in the world at 5200m, or around 17,000ft. Maybe, maybe not: there's a whole website devoted to this debate. Regardless, it was stunning. Look close and you'll see little tiny Dayna in the bottom right.
A 200ft wall of ice feeds into Tilicho Tal. I hiked down next to the fucker to put my hand in the lake, and felt the mass creaking and straining above.
Monsoon is also alpine wildflower season!
Dayna crushing.
Looking up valley toward Tilicho Tal and the 'Great Barrier'; named by the French mountaineer Maurice Herzog because he found a 6500m wall of rock and ice between him and his goal, Annapurna I. Bummer.
Manang Valley, looking East.
Dayna recieves the Llama's blessing and a charm to see us safely over the Thorung La Pass. She didn't need it: the guidebook recommends five hours up from the last lodge to the 18,000ft pass; we did it in three.
The '100 Llama'. All the locals would point way, way up a steep hillside to a tiny monastery gripping a cliff. We thought:" 100 Llamas live there?! Cool!" So up we go. An hour later we find this little guy living in a cave at around 13,000ft with his daughter, who is 57. Turns out he's 93 years old and has been living and meditating in that cave for 36 years. So we think "Oh! He's called the 100 Llama because he's close to 100 years old." Nope. He's called the 100 Llama because that's the minimum donation expected for a blessing (it's about a dollar-fifty). So we get our blessing and hang with the Llama while his daughter brought us tea and hearty Tibetan bread. Magic.
The 100 Llama's daughter cooking up Tibetan (deep-fried) bread on a traditional wood stove.
Grinding flour, Nepali-style. This is a little hut beside a swift stream. Water is channeled beneath the hut and over a small wooden turbine. The turbine spins the lower carved stone disk, and rough barley or wheat is hand-fed into the grinder. There were two young Nepali women working here; it was the end of their workday and they invited me in for tea.
Turn a corner in a Manang village, and you get a view like this.
An 800 year old Buddhist Monastery: perched, as always.
Terraced pastures, village, valley, mountains.
I was waking up around 5:00 every morning to take photos. Dayna took these two pictures, some of the best mountain shots of the trip, on the one morning I slept in.
Cool but concerned.
Typical Tibetan home construction: cross-cut wood logs, stacked stone, and flat roofs covered in clay. Note the beautifully carved window frame on the left.
Along the trails one finds stacked Mani stones, carved with various Buddhist prayers.
A Buddhist monk attends to business at sunrise.
Above and below: inside a Buddhist monastery.
Green onions and a yak-wool blanket drying in the chilly morning sun.
Trekkers-eye view of a Tibetan village.
If you're carrying a tripod, you may as well use it.
Road construction in the mountains of Nepal proceeds like this: first, you get two guys (wearing flip-flops) to pick-axe a tiny path along a sheer cliff. Then, blow the shit out of the cliff with dynamite. Send in a gang of fourteen or fifty year olds to shovel and widen the 'road', and hope it doesn't rain too hard during the monsoon.
"Oh look, it's a stupid tourist playing at ploughing a rice paddy the old-fashioned way: two oxen (or are those water buffalo?), a wooden plough, and knee-deep in muck.
"Hey, what's everyone laughing at??!" (See above)
Lowland villages planting the second crop of rice for the season. The trek started out at only 2000m...that is, it was sweaty, muggy and hot.
The Nepali government is obsessed with pushing roads into the mountains. In doing so, they've managed to pretty much destroy the first few days of this otherwise brilliant trek. Dayna discovering that singletrack trail is much more pleasant to hike on than fresh roadcut.
Porters resting at a chaatura along the trail. These resting spots are built under huge shade trees such as Banyan or Peepul. The porter's baskets are supported by a leather or cloth strap worn over the head called a tumpline. I tried it and thought my neck would snap.
Salt is the reason the Annapurna Circuit trek exists; it follows a millennia-old trading route between the great salt lakes of the Tibetan Plateau and banana-growing lowlanders edging up to the Gangetic Basin. The trek is an absolute marvel: over 300km in length, it passes through at least six cultural zones (some still remarkably distinct, some heavily syncretized), two massive drainage basins and river systems, and three or four climactic zones to it's chilly climax, the Thorung La, a Himalayan mountain pass of just under 18,000 feet. We spent nearly three weeks on the trek; I can speak for both Day and I when I say it was one of the best times of our lives.
We did the trek in the middle of monsoon...and had fantastic weather. The Annapurna Massive contains over 50 (!) 'minor' peaks which are over 15,000ft. This creates a massive rainshadow that blocks monsoonal rains moving North. We generally had clear skies in the morning, then it would cloud over in the afternoon, then open up again in the evening: perfect hiking weather and plenty of opportunity to see Himalayan giants floating in mist above. Clouds would ring a valley, and it would look remarkably like certain spots in BC. Then they would part to reveal the real mountains behind, adding at least twice as much vertical, and we would realize what we thought was valley-top were only minor foothills.
The Annapurna Circuit Trek is the most popular in Nepal, receiving over 75,000 visits annually. Most visitors come during peak season in Autumn. We've heard stories of trekkers sleeping on the floors and tables of trekking lodges because all accommodation is full, or racing with other groups to be the first into the village to get a room. We saw -get this- no more than 15 other trekkers during the entire three weeks. This meant we could barter for food and rooms (prices along the trek are fixed by committee to prevent cut-throat pricing, but when the every lodge in the village is deserted it gave us a certain...competitive leverage). It also meant that the villagers were less swamped with tourists, and we had plenty of opportunity for lengthy chats with locals.
NOTE: Blogger is stupid and posts photos in reverse; or I'm stupid and can't be fucked to figure out Blogger. Either way, the photos are posted bass-awkwards. To get to the start of the trek pretend your reading the Torah and go ALL the (long way) down and read upward.
The Kali Gandaki River. This is one of the rivers Day and I kayaked in May...at it's middle section and pre-monsoon!
First lowland villages were decimated by decline in the salt trade due to cheaper Indian exports and the occupation of Tibet. They moved into rice production, which was eventually made unprofitable due to the 'aid' of the UN's World Food Program. Next they set up businesses catering to trekkers, and were bankrupted by the new road, which was also around the time anyone under thirty said 'Fuck this digging and planting and shit, I'm moving to Kathmandu.' Result: some villages are essentially ghost-towns being overtaken by the invasive weed cannabis. Bong on, dude.
If you can't get a donkey to carry it, you carry it. Summer wheat harvest in Kagbeni. The wheat is hand-cut with a scythe, then threshed by laying it across paths for livestock and people to trample on.
Some villages are a creative mix of Buddhism, Hinduism, and Bon-Po (the pre-Buddhist anamist tradition of Tibet). This ten-foot tall protector diety guards a Medieval entrance way in Kagbeni.
It could be the Cental Interior of BC, but it's the village of Kagbeni, at around 13,000ft in the Kali Gandaki Valley; said to be the deepest valley in the world as it lies between two 8000m peaks, Annapurna and Daulagiri. Our route went South from here, but if you follow the river North you enter the sacred and restricted land of Mustang.
I worship goat skulls painted with silver runes. You got a problem?
A female protector diety, about six feet high, made of painted clay.
This woman chips stone ten hours a day, in 3o degree heat, while raising her child.
The first village one encounters after crossing the Thorung La Pass is Muktinath, a sacred village holy to both Buddhists and Hindus. We heard about a festival celebrating the arrival of a 'big Llama' (a high-ranking Buddhist monk), and decided to stay a few days. The entire village turned out: folks dressed in traditional Tibetan attire, burned incense in makeshift altars set along the stone path, danced and chanted. These are trumpeters announcing the Llamas arrival.
The procession heading toward the Buddhist monastery in Muktinath. The 'big Llama' (that's all anyone called him) is under the yellow parasol in the back. The monk with the bitchin' shades in the midground is a Chinese spy.
Village matriarchs line up to offer blessings and butter-sculpture offerings to the big Llama.
A Tibetan lady trying to keep a straight face for the goofy tourist. She is wearing a traditional head-dress of (giant) turquiose, and a necklace of turquoise and coral. I haven't figured out yet why a land-locked mountain region like Tibet would choose coral as a sacred semi-prcious stone, although it probably has something to do with its relative scarcity.
Waitin' for the big Llama.
This guy was in charge of keeping the juniper incense burning. He took his job pretty seriously.
Every village of Tibetan Buddhist influence has a series of prayer wheels at it's entrance gates. You spin the wheels and the prayer is released into the world. Nice, huh?
Dayna, my lovely wife, with a snotty worm. :)
A Buddhist nun.
Looking across the Kali Gandaki Vally toward Dhaulagiri.
Tibetan Buddhist interior decor: plastic flowers, stuffed swine and cuddly bears, a vessel containing rice blessed for good luck, a sacred chest of religious paraphenalia.
A chorten with prayer flags in Muktinath.
Windy prayer flags.
"I'm carrying 50lbs of wire by a strap on my head, at 15,000ft, at dusk...and some stupid tourist is in my way!"
Gangapurna (7000-and-something) materializes through dawn cloud.
As above.
Ram skulls are cool...especially when they're mounted on the hood of a Cadillac.
A Tibetan yak-herder settlement.
Dayna blazing through the 'scary deathtrap' section of the trail to Tilicho Tal, claimed to be the highest lake in the world. The guidebook was full of doom and gloom about this section, and we met a (British) trekker who had turned back, terrified at the prospect of crossing a loose gravel landslide with a 1000ft fall into the river. But like many Canadian kids we both grew up playing in gravel pits and had absolutely no problem.
Hi everybody!
Tilicho Tal, the 'Great Ice Lake' that Herzog crossed on a scouting trip during the first ascent of Annapurna in the 50's. Claimed to be the highest lake in the world at 5200m, or around 17,000ft. Maybe, maybe not: there's a whole website devoted to this debate. Regardless, it was stunning. Look close and you'll see little tiny Dayna in the bottom right.
A 200ft wall of ice feeds into Tilicho Tal. I hiked down next to the fucker to put my hand in the lake, and felt the mass creaking and straining above.
Monsoon is also alpine wildflower season!
Dayna crushing.
Looking up valley toward Tilicho Tal and the 'Great Barrier'; named by the French mountaineer Maurice Herzog because he found a 6500m wall of rock and ice between him and his goal, Annapurna I. Bummer.
Manang Valley, looking East.
Dayna recieves the Llama's blessing and a charm to see us safely over the Thorung La Pass. She didn't need it: the guidebook recommends five hours up from the last lodge to the 18,000ft pass; we did it in three.
The '100 Llama'. All the locals would point way, way up a steep hillside to a tiny monastery gripping a cliff. We thought:" 100 Llamas live there?! Cool!" So up we go. An hour later we find this little guy living in a cave at around 13,000ft with his daughter, who is 57. Turns out he's 93 years old and has been living and meditating in that cave for 36 years. So we think "Oh! He's called the 100 Llama because he's close to 100 years old." Nope. He's called the 100 Llama because that's the minimum donation expected for a blessing (it's about a dollar-fifty). So we get our blessing and hang with the Llama while his daughter brought us tea and hearty Tibetan bread. Magic.
The 100 Llama's daughter cooking up Tibetan (deep-fried) bread on a traditional wood stove.
Grinding flour, Nepali-style. This is a little hut beside a swift stream. Water is channeled beneath the hut and over a small wooden turbine. The turbine spins the lower carved stone disk, and rough barley or wheat is hand-fed into the grinder. There were two young Nepali women working here; it was the end of their workday and they invited me in for tea.
Turn a corner in a Manang village, and you get a view like this.
An 800 year old Buddhist Monastery: perched, as always.
Terraced pastures, village, valley, mountains.
I was waking up around 5:00 every morning to take photos. Dayna took these two pictures, some of the best mountain shots of the trip, on the one morning I slept in.
Cool but concerned.
Typical Tibetan home construction: cross-cut wood logs, stacked stone, and flat roofs covered in clay. Note the beautifully carved window frame on the left.
Along the trails one finds stacked Mani stones, carved with various Buddhist prayers.
A Buddhist monk attends to business at sunrise.
Above and below: inside a Buddhist monastery.
Green onions and a yak-wool blanket drying in the chilly morning sun.
Trekkers-eye view of a Tibetan village.
If you're carrying a tripod, you may as well use it.
Road construction in the mountains of Nepal proceeds like this: first, you get two guys (wearing flip-flops) to pick-axe a tiny path along a sheer cliff. Then, blow the shit out of the cliff with dynamite. Send in a gang of fourteen or fifty year olds to shovel and widen the 'road', and hope it doesn't rain too hard during the monsoon.
"Oh look, it's a stupid tourist playing at ploughing a rice paddy the old-fashioned way: two oxen (or are those water buffalo?), a wooden plough, and knee-deep in muck.
"Hey, what's everyone laughing at??!" (See above)
Lowland villages planting the second crop of rice for the season. The trek started out at only 2000m...that is, it was sweaty, muggy and hot.
The Nepali government is obsessed with pushing roads into the mountains. In doing so, they've managed to pretty much destroy the first few days of this otherwise brilliant trek. Dayna discovering that singletrack trail is much more pleasant to hike on than fresh roadcut.
Porters resting at a chaatura along the trail. These resting spots are built under huge shade trees such as Banyan or Peepul. The porter's baskets are supported by a leather or cloth strap worn over the head called a tumpline. I tried it and thought my neck would snap.
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