Andrew VillalobosThe mountains of Nepal are immense. They can be seen almost at all times throughout the country and for me at least, were a kind of mental escape from the busy cities that can be found among the foothills and valleys of this great mountain range. I’d find myself among the dusty busy streets of Kathmandu or Pokhara watching for cars, motorbikes and tuk tuks and then between two buildings I’d catch a glimpse of a peaceful, ferocious mountain top. Some of the temples and structures we visited, like in Bhaktapur for example, date back to the 12th century but these mountains are timeless. There’s something comforting in recognizing and accepting geologic time and appreciating the miniscule moment at which we observe their existence.
For years I had wanted to see that mountain range and gaze up at some of the highest points on earth but I hadn’t given much thought to the experience as a whole. The food, the cities and villages, the people I’d be with. It’s amazing how things tend to come together much better than we could have planned them. Not only was I going to get to see the Himalayas but it worked out that I’d be hiking with my Dad, two of my brothers, my wife and our good friend Devi who was born and raised in Nepal! I don’t remember how the conversation started but I was speaking to my friend Ron back home who, as it turned out, had been twice to Nepal and he recommended his guide, Mingma, who was fantastic to spend time with and learn from.
We learned very quickly that we were on the mountain’s time, not our own, when we couldn’t get our flight into the Tenzing-Hillary airport due to weather conditions. Down at Manthali there were clear skies and sunshine but just up the valley it was raining and cloudy. The air strip is so short given its location on a mountain side at 9,337 feet that it has developed a reputation for being extremely dangerous to fly in and out of. This means unless the weather is great and predicted to stay that way, all flights get grounded. We didn’t have the luxury of time so after a few hours we changed plans and decided to hike on the west side of Nepal in the Annapurna region rather than the Everest region which was our original plan. I was glad we made that decision because on our bus ride back to Kathmandu I met an Israeli man that had just spent 3 days waiting for better weather only to be ultimately denied a chance to hike that valley. We spent the night back in Kathmandu, got an early flight to Pokhara and a van to Birethanti where we would begin our hike, Mingma arranged everything seamlessly and we were so glad to have him on our team.
Immediately it was apparent that this would be a different experience to what I was used to in California’s Eastern Sierra. The trek began by walking the stone streets of a small cluster of houses. This particular hike, known as Poon Hill, takes you through several valleys which are inhabited, sparsely, but inhabited none-the-less. As you walk through there are people herding buffalo, sorting and drying grains or carrying various plants and grains in hand woven baskets strapped to their foreheads and slung across their backs. It was amusing to me that we were there, all geared up with boots and various hiking supplies while these locals were doing it in flip-flops. One of my favorite aspects of the hike were the caravans of donkeys brightly dressed and carrying supplies up and down the mountain with their bells clanging like a pot being struck with a wooden spatula.
The environment at these lower elevations is green and lush. There are rice fields terraced through valleys and water all around you. Waterfalls spill from high above or leak steadily through cracks at your feet. The sound of rushing water is constant and the color is a rich turquoise blue. As we got further up the valley we passed through some rhododendron forest, or Lali Gurans in Nepali, and I learned from Mingma that the flower of this tree is the country’s national flower. These trees are amazing, their trunks are free flowing and move in all directions as if they danced into their current stance. They are draped in moss due to the moist environment and have the most amazing leaves sprouting from their trunks. These leaves are different from the ones displayed on their branches and are the texture of a bird’s feather, I’d never seen anything like it. I asked Mingma if it was ok to take one and he said it was so I pressed it in my current text, a book on the history of Sicily, and look forward to the day when I’ll frame it and hang it on my wall back home.
The weather would change from clear and sunny to cloudy and rainy but there was often a tree canopy to help keep us dry. We passed through village after village and every now and then would break for Chai Tea or lunch. The food options were fantastic and if I’m being honest I’d say we were completely spoiled. I was expecting nothing but dahl baht, cold showers and mattressless beds but instead we had four page menus of both Nepali and western food, hot showers and comfortable beds! I’d say this hike is at the perfect intersection between a local experience with tourist amenities. Less amenities would raise the challenge significantly while more would simply take from the experience of being in a wild place.
After two days we reached the summit of Poon Hill. Most people make it to Ghorepani, spend the night and leave early to watch the first light hit the peaks of Annapurna and Dhaulagiri but when we arrived at Ghorepani and Mingma said the peak was only about another 45 minutes there was no way I was waiting until morning. We dropped our packs at the lodge, took a small bag with the camera, a jacket and some water and got back on the trail. I was impressed with how well Mingma knew his mountains. At Ghorepani, you could only see the bottom portion of Dhaualgiri and the rest of the range, the clouds were beautiful in their own right but that’s not what we were there to see! Mingma felt confident that the current conditions would make for a great sunrise and even felt there was a chance they’d clear for sunset so we pressed on.
Just as we approached the final section I saw the sunrays burst through the trees and got excited for what we were about to see. The clouds had all cleared and we were blessed with an unbelievable view. Himalaya can be translated as “land of snow,” and for good reason. We stood in awe of these snow covered mountains, one after another all standing in unison. Dhaulagir was across a valley and little further out but we were close enough to Annapurna South to appreciate the many colors on the mountain, though the very summit was shrouded in clouds. At the lowest viewable elevation there was the dense and dark green of the forest. As you scanned upwards the green transitioned to a sort of emerald color, then mustard yellow and a reddish brown until it became completely blanketed in pure white. As the sun continued to set even the snow began to radiate in red and orange, we stood in awe, took photos and before we knew it were almost shivering from the dropping temperatures. It was an experience I’ll never forget and we began our descent back to the lodge feeling like we had seen something truly special.
I had set my alarm for 430am but woke up at 330 feeling wide awake. I figured I’d head up early and take some star photos before the sunrise but it seemed everyone was on the same page. My dad and brother were ready to go and didn’t take much for Sophie and Mingma to get moving as well. We walked in the dark for an hour or so before reaching the summit again. As Mingma predicted all the clouds had cleared and this time Annapurna and Machapuchare were completely visible. We watched the sky change color until the sun finally crested at the horizon. Light struck the tips of the peaks and I don’t know if the heat of the suns rays did it or whether it’s just part of the weather system but clouds began to form and drift in the invisible winds surrounding the mountains. It was a beautiful sunrise and like so many other times on this journey so far I was filled with gratefulness.
