Coming up to 25th December...

24-12-2007

The clouds had ease away and the mountains were visible again today. So be it, a better day. I wanted to get a move on with getting the trek sorted. So far I had figured out I would need a guide. It was winter, and every trek place or person I spoke with all came to the same conclusion about the weather. Snow was either here, or on the way, and the paths could be blocked.

The other reason I decided for a guide was that no one else seemed to be doing the full Annapurna Circuit. If roads were blocked and the weather bad and you are in a group, at least you have company. I was resigned to going without a group. And being stuck up in a mountain alone in worsening weather was not a fun idea. There was another reason too. The Maoists were striking out at tourists for money and in one case violence.

It was with a brief chat with Chubby that he showed be a newspaper front page displaying the photograph of bloodied Swiss man who had stayed with him two weeks ago. Apparently he had run into some Maoists looking for a "Donation" at a bridge. Got a bit upset at having to essentially bribe them and pushed past. The push had been too strong and the Maoists saw it as aggressive and took some sticks to him.

Chubby wanted 530 Euro for a 3 week trek. That was not going to happen. I spent the whole day going into ever guide store in town. The average rate was $16 per day. Still a lot to me. I did meet a man on the street offering $10 per day, but I think that was mainly to fuel his alcohol breath.

I failed again at a fish lunch. I went for a slightly better Daal Bhat and also treated myself to some local wine. Although it tasted more like raw vodka, with similar effects too. That did not help when I got back to the Dharma Inn reception. The ultra cheap 500Rupee sleeping bag I had bought for the trek was still not back from cleaning. In fact as I peered past Chubby's brother Ruben I saw it still sitting there unwashed for two days.

I lost the plot. Ruben was one of those 'cool' middle aged guy's who always wore a baseball cap and really never brought their brains out of hibernation. I made quite the scene. Even managed a dramatic slamming of fist on the table type move. This in a reception with new guests around was quite interesting.

It did not stop Peter and tall young Irish guy from talking with me anyway. He had just arrived and was wondering if there was anything to do at night here. I racked my brains. I really wanted to get out and have a beer. I had yet to have a night out in Pokhara, and now this guy was asking for advice. I thought back to Bob's list from Varanasi. He'd mentioned a place called the Busy Bee. So we agreed to meet there later.

The Nepalese wine really went to my head. A shower later and I was off to the Busy Bee. True to his promise Peter showed up and we had some beers over a conversation involving my travel through Pakistan and Iran. Always a good conversation started. A giant sizzling steak later and we were joined my a Swiss couple Peter had just been trekking with to the Annapurna Base camp. I was back and passed out by 1am

25-12-07

Waking up on Christmas day with a hangover is not all that uncommon. Though I will admit that either Nepal Ice Beer or the Nepalese wine really is not good the day after. The weather was outside was changing and although the clouds were not that thick, the views were hazy.

Spending Christmas alone while travelling can be a non event, or a raucous party. This was going to be the latter. Pokhara was quite. Maybe everyone had a hangover? As usual when alone at Christmas I saw mainly couples walking together with bright rosy cheeks. An odd solo did appear, before scuffling off into hiding.

I ran into Peter and we agreed to meet with the Swiss couple at a fancy restaurant later for a big western style Christmas dinner.

I had been holding off on visiting the world peace stupa until today. It was a backup in case of a lack of excitement. It was already the afternoon as I hired the rowing boat and rower to take me across the lake. My late lunch was meant to give me an early evening mountain view from the stupa. Instead I looked up from the lake and saw a waft of dark cloud begin to hug around the mountain range. The rower seemed intent on pointing at the stupa and telling me of the bandits there in the evening.

I looked up at the dark swirl around the main mountain peeks, then looked over at the lower hazy peaks. For over a year I had planned to be in Nepal at this time of the year. The LP, and every other source had said that this was coldest, yet clearest time of the year to see and photograph the mountains. It wasn't this year. Was it climate change? Or bad luck?

All the locals told me was that the best time to see mountains was November. I began to think back on the short cuts I had taken just to get here on time. Olympus, North Pakistan, further into India. It was not worth dwelling on. I was about to head up to over 17,000 feet in the winter. It would be my consolation prize.

The little boat man pointed again at the stupa. Even that was dull and mist covered. As we reached the shore I told him to take me back to lakeside again. It wasn't worth the effort.

I met Peter on the way back to the hotel. He was on his was to meet the Swiss couple at the Busy Bee. I said I would catch up with him at the restaurant at 7.30 after a shower. Unfortunately at 8pm they still weren't at the Busy Bee. I imagined they were still drinking. The thought of a second night of Alcohol did not interest me so I went back to the hotel.

Chubby was there, so I made an excuse of not being out on Christmas night by saying I had to call people on the phone. I also agreed to take one of his guides for the 29th. I was going to be on a mountain for New Year's and not in a town.

26-11-2007

There was breaking news in Nepal today as a bridge had collapse during a celebration with 50+ being killed. Pakistan was in riots again. Town was empty. I spent the day away from it all at the Greenpeace Restaurant that literally hangs above the shores of Lake Phewa. I read and listened to noisy Koreans slurp noodles. I took the chance to get in some more trek shop shopping in and I bought a couple of quick dry fake North Face shirts to replace my cotton t shirts. Cotton may be better, but quick dry travels better.

Peter was around town, and was disappointed at not seeing me last night. I was honest and said I did show up, but was not able for a Busy Bee night. He was hungover, I was feeling better. We laughed with some locals as they began sitting up roadside posters and banners for the annual festival starting on the 28th. The men were building wooden towers on either side of the road to hang the banners. Unfortunately some of the wooden beams were from last year, and were too full of holes to nail in banners. After many attempts the local workers agreed.

There was a different vibe in the air. I must have been looking forward to moving on. It's when I move into hyper mode. Things must get done. I met Myoko, a young Japanese lady back at the Dharma Inn over a coke. The night sky was clear, the stars were shining and we agreed to head off for the early morning trip to the Sarangkot look out point before taking a boat to the World Peace Stupa.

27-12-07

Being awake before the alarm, having the taxi's number already displayed on the phone and waking up Myoko five minutes before the arranged time were all sure fire indications I was back on track. I was awake again, feeling the surge that one feels just before a trip.

Even after 40 minutes in taxi only to discover that there were 70 plus Indians already at the look out view did not hamper my mood. Sarangkot was a traditional look out view for a small section of the Annapurna range. Famous for its brilliance of dawn colours.

It was nice, even with the crowd of noisy Indian families. After several minutes of pretty good Indian style queue skipping I had my tripod set up I captured some nice landscape shots of dark ice caps coming to life with orange flame. The hustle of the crowd and Myoko's enjoyment of standing at the sceptical meant I would disappear to the rear of the crowd and wait. The sunset was not as spectacular as everyone had said, nice, but not great. An over exaggeration on the part of tourism again.

In two days it would be the start of a new adventure. And later today I would be interviewing the guy to guide me up into my first experience of a mountain trek. Strangely I was more concerned about the guide, and the Maoists than the actual terrain and the possibilities of being stranded up there due to bad weather. Many people had completed the trek, and I had never heard of any bad reports other than Maoists and bad guides. Then again, not many people would publish the fact they failed.

The sky was changing colour. From a now dull flaming orange the ice capped peaks began to flash dazzling pinks. The sky was lighting up and putting on a spectacular new display. Bollox! It had only just begun when I had left my clear vantage point to some young bored and wingeingIndian child.

The crowd had grown thick and full, as if sensing a past participant had not been patient enough to wait and now wanted re-entry. An opportunity presented itself beside a small group on Japanese as they made a fuss by a narrow ledge. Taking the tripod I goat like jumped down a few rock steps and landed on a narrow earthy terrace, alone and with a prime view of natures dawn light display.

Pinks, oranges and finally fiery reds illuminated the white peaks of the mountains. Almost deifying the fact that they were in displaying brilliant ice caps. It was a sceptical that reminded me not to leave a movie until the credits were well and truly running.

Myoko was good company. Quite yet interesting, with a gentle sort of humour. The solo Japanese lady was happy to see me take the paddles of our boat across the lake. And even happier to see us race an India family across, and win. We climbed the 45 minute mountain and saw why the world was at war. The World Peace Stupa was closed. Under renovation. The views of lake Phewa Tal were nice. Not the super reflective infamous double view on the Annapurna range displaying off its still water. More of a ripple effect.

I was tempted to hike out to another area to try and get some better photographs. But seeing a small village, and the tell tale sight of multi coloured prayer flags in the opposite direction meant a short trek to a local hill top café. Here the view had transformed into a milestone for me.

The tree tops were no longer obscuring the lakes view. The ice capped mountain range were visible both behind the lake and in the lakes still reflection. Orange blossomed flowers surrounded out little table as a small bird darted between the petals.

My mind wandered back 8 years to another continent and I smiled in my own reflection. My old travel friend Johann had told me of this place. His description was so graphic it had formed an image in my mind that had settled on what was before me now. 8 years ago I was making him a promise that was genuine. A promise that I too wanted to see such closely guarded and privileged beauty. Now I was here. It was good.

The idea of sitting there for the rest of the day was one I could have lived with easily. Yet for once I was with someone, and she wanted to move on. It might have been to her loss though as soon I was acting like a school kid. We had made our way further along from the café and into an area surrounded by multicoloured prayer flags.

Little bright blue, yellow and white flags were draped in a mixed up tattered way in between and through the local foliage. Each tiny little triangular flag had minuscule black writing on it in Nepalese script. Some fluttered high between the spread out trees, others rustled thickly through denser brush. We stood in the middle, surrounded on all sides by colour. Enjoying the warm sun, the cool breeze and the feeling of life.

Between the trees and behind bright colours of the prayer flags hung the awesome mountains. It was a surreal feeling. As flags rustled, I thought of how I could again spend a day just sitting there. Myoko had little choice, and I think she was of similar mind as well. I sat on the grass. I took 300 photographs. I peaked out from as many vantage points as possible. I had found my own most spectacular view.

Having arrange to meet Myoko for dinner later, I now had the dubious task of interviewing for a guide. Chubby, in all his wisdom, had arranged for the interview in his office. It was not a disaster, but it did reek of the impeding disaster. The guide, who's name really cannot be scratched from memory, was tall, leather faced and aggressive sounding. Alarm bells rang all over my head. He was an obvious drinker. And he wanted the trek to stretch out over 3 weeks. Thus giving himself a higher salary. No.

Chubby was soon on the phone to me as I was preparing to head out and find my own guide. He was as apologetic as anyone could me. Normally this does not do much for me, a man can apologise all day and still repeated the mistake. But Chubby said something that told me the next attempt would be better.

"I could tell you were not happy, I am sorry. He was the wrong guide for you. Permit me to be bring the right one in one hour."

And it was one hour later that sure enough I was sitting opposite 'Narayan'. He was a well groomed chap in his mid 30's. Soft spoken yet strong in his convictions on the route. He unnerved me a little by not looking directly into my eyes when talking. I noticed he was cross eyed in one eye, and didn't know whether this was the reason or whether it was a trust issue.

The bottom line with Narayan was that he spoke knowingly about the trek. He also put up with my Nigerian tactic of saying I knew that a lot of guides took dumb trekkers to their 'Friends' lodges en route. Thus getting a little extra percentage. He took everything in his stride. Apart from the eye contact this I liked him.

Chubby asked Narayan to wait outside while we talked about the financial aspects. The matter of the eye contact was brought up. A bullshit shy Nepalese excuse was used, so I settled on the dodgy eye being the reason. Outside I signed the deal with a handshake as Chubby explained the dates. It seemed that was not all he said.

Narayan looked me squarely in the eyes, "It is good to be able to work with you. I see you again in a few days."

28-12-07

It was Myoko's last day today. She was leaving on a plane for Kathmandu in the evening. It was also the first day of the annual Pokhara new years festival and my last day before the trek.

As festivals go, this one was as disorganised as most Nepalese activities. Still, each restaurant had rented out double their indoor seat numbers worth of plastic chairs and tables to line out outside the restaurants. Prayer flags fluttered from every conceivable hanging points. And everyone was smiling. There were still not that many tourists around, so it had a good local feel to it.

Even a small parade involving a single large male elephant with quite the bowel disorder was amusing. Myoko was set upon by men dressed in a buffalo costume that brought about shrieks of laughter from the crowd. It was here I spotted Narayan. He was with his two year old son Narwin. It was a major relief for me to see that my guide had a family here in Pokhara and a good opportunity to see if there were any misguided feelings about the 'eye'. It all seemed fine.

Myoko joined me at the Pokhara Steak house for possibly my last taste of beef, or good meal, for quite sometime. I didn't know it yet, but I was enjoying Pokhara now. Maybe it was the company. Maybe it was the feeling of the upcoming trip. But something was changing. The place was growing on me.

Check out more on my website:
www.thelongestwayhome.com

I have uploaded a helpful resource on Nepal based on my own experience there here

I also published an article called How to Hire a Guide in Nepal that might help anyone wanting to how its done!