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.
