Nepal Travelog: On friendship on the trail...

On the trail the other day as I climbed toward the high pass of Thorung La, the path was just challenging enough to give me a steady stream of endorphines without making me plain exhausted. It was another bright, blue day at 4000 metres with amazing views of Annapurna 3 high above me, while down below in the canyon, a steady stream of vultures glided in on thermals to feed on the carcass of a blue sheep. 

It was a hypnotic rhythm, a dreamy headspace conducive to contentment, and the first time I had felt fully relaxed in months. Like a virtuous circle, I saw myself through my mood and picked out only my proud achievements, the excitement of further grand plans and other times I had been deliriously happy. Soon I was lifted up higher into the thinning air.

Whenever I feel such happiness, I look others in the eye and smile. Freed somehow from all those false urgencies that would shut me off from the world, I am released fully to acknowledge the presence of others in a selfless gesture that simply opens up and gives.

Later, as I sat in the glass-walled dining room of my guesthouse, gazing out into a sudden snow storm, I saw some familiar faces beating their way against the wind-whipped and thickening flakes of snow. It was a couple of girls I had met the previous day in Manang and who had so thoroughly distracted me with a warm and welcome exchange conversation that I almost forgot to pay for my pain-aux-chocolat. Instinctively I rapped on the window to get their attention and beam out a huge smile of welcome. Ten minutes later we were discussing our Myers-Briggs profiles over hot tea and a menu. 

Three days have passed since I fell in with their company, days in which I have hardly had a moment to myself. Normally, I would resent such an intense obligation, especially in my beloved mountains where I have always sought a zen-like flatline of simplicity. But this trip is different.     

After sleep-walking through my life for too long, this year for me is all about abandoning the patterns of habit. It is about opening my eyes to the vastness of the world, its possibilities and personalities before moving forward with purpose. When we are lucky enough to spend time with those who have reflected on their experience with honesty care and courage, we are reminded that we all have the same demons and desires. What separates us and gives us real reason to listen are the different lessons that each of us has gained along the way. Whether it be a life-changing decision, or something as simple as an attitude, by seeking out and truly listening to those who have earned wisdom, we too may find new tools and strategies for getting the most out of life. 

And all it really takes to step into this world is to break your routine and go see something new and full of wonder. There, on top of your own mountain, you will find the pettiness of your own urgencies and the eyes of others to receive your smile.

Nepal Travelog: Annapurna impressions

This morning I woke up in my own little cabin in the courtyard of a mountain village 'hotel'. From outside I could hear next door's occupants gushing about the glorious weather as they brushed their teeth around the communal tap and stone basin. My curiosity piqued, I popped my head above the warmth of the heavy duvet to peer through the gap in the curtains. Sure enough, there was a streak of that primary, elemental blue that could only mean that this day in the mountains was going to be bright and hot and still. So what better plan to make than to ascend another kilometre into yet thinner air to visit a lake, sacred to the buddhist faith and encased eternally in ice and snow?

I've just finished my 4th day on the Annapurna circuit, a day I should be spending 'resting and acclimatising' at 3,600 m in Manang before making the final push for the Thorung Pass, itself situated at a height of 5,400m. As it turned out, I simply could not bring myself to spend such a perfect day sedentary in the teahouses and bakeries of this charming and surprisingly well-equipped village. This is a walk I have wanted to do for a very long time. In fact, when it comes to thru-hiking or trekking, the Annapurna Circuit must be one of the best in the world, and so far, it has delivered; but not perhaps for the reasons I expected.

The mountains, of course, are the most awesome on earth, and all you need is good weather to appreciate them. Autumn they say is the absolute best time for clear skies and good views. And sure enough, the first couple of days were a little hazy, with views of the higher peaks totally occluded by midday. But as I have gained altitude, the air has become clearer and fresher, with the result that you can make out all the twisted folds in the glaciers which hang on the higher slopes of the Annapurna massif.

The landscape too has changed. Four days ago at Besisahar, I started the circuit surrounded by subtropical flora, which has steadily given way to heady scented pines, scrub and what looks very much like volcanic tuffeta in the badlands surrounding Manang. And of course, it has got colder. Not that you notice when the sun is out, but as soon as it slips behind a cloud or sets behind the range, you understand why all the books say you need to pack such hefty thermal bulk.

But what I have found most warming and most pleasantly surprisingly about this whole trip has been the gentle sensibility of these mountain people.

Extremes of temperature and a diversity of flora you can find on almost any mountain walk in the world, but what is unique to the Annapurna Circuit is that you move from the Hindi villages of the lower valleys to the Buddhist ones of higher up. I must confess that I know very little about these religions, or the subtle differences between them. But already in Kathmandu I got a sense of just how mutually tolerant these systems are of each other. Strolling round the city on the day of a strike, I met the acquaintance of a group of friendly and knowledgable students who, as is the custom here, took me on a tour of the sights of their city in exchange for a few hundred roupees. Moving from one temple to the next, Hindi to Buddhist and back again, they undertook and embraced the rituals of each faith as if it were their only persuasion. Besides this admirable ability to coexist, in the raw environment of the mountains you really get a sense for how both religions continue to be influenced by ancient animistic beliefs. This is particularly true with the variation of Buddhism which is practised here in the higher valleys where the population hail originally from Tibet. Come here and you will see what I mean, for if you have any sense of wonder, I guarantee that after a couple of days you too will be unable to pass a bell without ringing it nor a set of prayer wheels without setting them spinning.

And I have been constantly amazed by the beauty of the children: little Asian Botticellis, happily clad bright plastic boots and dirty market clothes with incongruous western marketing slogans emblazoned on their tiny down jackets. Typically I come across the older ones eight, nine and ten years old, chasing iron hoops through the cobbled streets, while their little brothers and sisters sit cross legged on wooden benches, only their angelic face exposed to the bright sunshine and framed by a droopy-eared woollen hat. And only today there was the image of a young child idly toying with a prayer wheel as their playmate squatted down in the mud of the gutter to find out what exactly is glistening down there. Often there is a greeting when I pass, and sometimes a playful curiosity is taken in my trekking poles or my camera, or perhaps the chocloate that might lie concealed inside a zipped pocket. But always there are smiles, which in turn disarm you, break down all your barriers and open you up to the simple beauty of the world.

Smiles like this look best on the lips of children, but almost every Nepali I meet has such a smile for me. I love mountains, and mountain air and light that would make the very colours of the world vibrate. But what I love most about being here are in these mountains are such smiles. They colour the landscape of my experience more than the rose-gold peaks of the sunset ranges, morethan the ghostly porcelain of a hanging glacier, and more than the primary, elemental blue of my morning sky.

Nepal Travelog: beginnings

Sunday, 7 April 2013

I have been in Kathmandu for 2 whole days now and have achieved quite a lot in that short time. I've toured the city, got my TIMS permit and Annapurna entry cards, rented warmer clothes, booked a seat on a bus to the trailhead paid my room and stocked up with some high carb supplies for the first part of the trip. And so tomorrow starts a new chapter, or the Nepal adventure proper if you like, as I begin the Annapurna circuit.

But what I really want to put down here is just how difficult it is to shift gears from normal, work-a-day life to travelling mode. Maybe it is because I am at a watershed moment. One month ago I quit my job and since then, have been putting in 14 hour days and more writing articles for publication as part of an ambitious self-improvement exercise. And it has paid off: not only did I submit my articles, I also somehow found the time to secure summer work and enroll in a course for the autumn. But there have been casualties. Latterly, I could feel that I was losing it slightly, that old familiar feeling of being unable to switch off, like being addicted to solving problems and never quite happy unless you can find one to deal with. Not exactly a recipe for nirvana.

And so it goes with these days in Kathmandu. True I have had a lot to arrange, and I cannot really imagine signing up to a trekking party and being denied the opportunity to experience the Himalayas on my own terms. But with all this extra decision making and obligation it kind of feels like I have not yet arrived; or worse, that I have arrived but not in my own head.

All this was going through my mind the other night as I lay in bed, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, and it was then that I came up with a couple of strategies (note the language: strategies not solutions). 

1. Mindfulness. By which I mean, breaking the circle of living in your own head by any means you want. I used to meditate routinely, twice a day in my younger days. But these days it is enough for me to chant my mantra for a few minutes to break out of a vicious circle.

2. Others. Others are often a burden for us introverts. Sometimes they can drain our energy and prevent us from processing our experience to the extent that we would like. But only sometimes. We are all placed on a spectrum when it comes to the polar opposites that psychologists so love to play with. As much as they prevent us from processing when we need to, just as much do they force us out into the world when we are only navel-gazing.

3. Decisiveness. A difficult one for me. The other two I have down pat, but this one... The difficultly perhaps lies in this. Knowing what you want is one thing, but being prepared to shut the door and stop looking back when you make a decision is another. I just have one piece of advice on this one, mostly for myself. I saw this posted on an internet forum about hiking in Nepal:

Q. What is the best hike in Nepal?

A. The one you're doing.

For me, this simple answer speak volumes. It says: open your heart and suspend your judgement, of others and most importantly, of yourself.

Time out for travelling should be an opportunity to explore different selves as well as different others. Knowing what you like is presumably what you hate, and why you have come here in the first place. As such, you have to feel on your pulse the truth that learning new things about yourself can only happen if you let down your barriers and affirm what you see.