Section 6 – Days 121 -132 from Ringmo to Rara! The monsoon has arrived!
It is the second rest day in just four days, what luxury and lazy indulgence. It’s a cloudy, drizzly day. The gentle waves of Rara Lake are lulling me into memories of living on the shores of Lake Schwerin in Germany more than 15 years ago. Rara lake feels similar- clear water, some reeds on its edges, forest and some green meadows surrounding it. But the comparison falls short when I think of the 4000 meter green mountain ridges we walked along yesterday to get here- still in view from my perch here on the ragged viewing platform I made my home for this afternoon. Also, there is not a single boat on the water, in fact we are told no one is allowed in, not even to douse ones head – for me it is like being served a bowl of yummy vanilla ice cream with crispy dark chocolate sauce and fresh strawberries and then be told not to eat it, just to look at it!
It only took us three days from Jumla to Rara, three beautiful days through sheep and goat, water buffalo, cow and horse country! Deep valleys with old growth forests and green passes between 3600 and 4000m with makeshift sheep and goat herders’ tents. Wildflowers in all imaginable colours. Our camps lay in green herders’ valleys so different from all other parts of Nepal where each patch of arable land is cultivated and turned into terrace fields. The small villages we did pass were all busy with their harvest, thrashing their grains with long wooden beaters on top of the flat dried mud roofs of their houses, the sound of which echoed through the valleys.
On the descend down from Ringmo past the huge waterfall -where Phoksundo lake drains downwards into a beautiful roaring river- I stopped for a quick chat to two French women who had just been trekking through upper Dolpo. They were impressed and curious when they heard how long I had been crossing the Himalayas on my two feet. “Aren’t you tired yet?” she asked me and I cheerfully and confidently said: ”Not at all!” Tiredness of walking and being on the move, even tiredness in my body and legs really hadn’t crossed my mind yet. In fact, up until now every morning and every evening I have found myself deeply grateful and even excited about where I am and what I am privileged to be doing and seeing, hard and difficult days included. Not once did I not want to get out of my cozy sleeping bag in the morning and greet the new day, launch into the next adventure of steep paths or slippery slopes, seeing more beauty, encountering new villagers and trying out my rickety Nepali.
But as if the little chat en route had turned an inner switch within the next hour my throat started scratching and my legs got really heavy making each step feel like I am wearing an astronaut’s lead boots. By the time we reach camp having first dropped a thousand meters and then climbed a thousand again, I felt feverish, ready to lie down. The next morning I felt knackered, not sure how slowly I would need to walk to make it to high camp below our next 5115m Kagmara Pass. “Bistari, bistari ai pugio” – slowly slowly I arrived, in the pouring rain that chose to come more horizontally than vertically thus making shelter was difficult despite my umbrella. Not only I but Monsoon had arrived, too! My throat continued to be on fire for a few more days and the rains didn’t subside much in the next few days either. It was taxing. Had I met the French women now my response would have been different. I realized that maybe the 120something days have indeed left their traces in my body….
There were great highlights that came with the rain- the river we had followed coming down from Kagmara Pass had grown much bigger overnight. Our path that at times snaked along the river’s edge had disappeared. Shoes and socks off we waded through the edge of the roaring, knee deep and ice cold river for about 20 meters. River crossings are not my favourite (some unexplainable fear seems to get a hold of me every time) but this one was fun and not scary at all since we didn’t have to try and cross and enter the crazy roar of the river’s main current.
The next day however the rain really came down hard, we had only about one hour of walking in no rain but sticky hot humidity instead (at this point we were below 3000m for the first time in over two weeks). Here the land was lush and fertile, cannabis is a wildly growing ground covering weed and seems to be used as crop divider on most corn, bean and potato fields down here. Once we left the small path through the fields we walked on the newly dug out road for the rest of the day. Heavy rain turned it into a muddy volatile river with constant little (and not so little!) mudslides and rockfalls coming down on the carved out mountain side of the road. And then there were big cracks in the not yet settled surface of the brand new road and its muddy edge. Where to walk if the road is a muddy river, the valley facing edge has cracks too big for comfort and the mountain facing side keeps moving with mud and rocks…??? We were heading towards another small pass, rainforest both sides of the “river road” with witches’ hair and old man’s beard increasing the mystic, eerie feel of this wet day! Once we reached Nauli Ghot, our destination for the day, there were two local houses, host to 9 road builders who where waiting out the rain, their individually painted excavator tractors all parked outside. All offered “camping spots” were at a 35degree angle on soggy ground- we ended up pitching deep in the forest finding decent spots between big old pine trees. It was still pouring rain when we crawled into our tents! Oh, what bliss to get warm inside the sleeping bag that had stayed dry inside my packsack (not true of all my clothes!).
The night before we reached Jumla we stayed in an incredibly beautiful valley reminiscent of Bavaria, Switzerland and Austria all together, called Gothichaur. Here the weather cleared and we were gifted with a view into a green open valley with a meandering stream and hundreds of sheep on the gentle open slopes below the pines that crowned the hills all around. All government owned land accommodating a Sheep Research Station with sheep from China, Australia and Nepal as we learned from one of our hosts.
Once in Jumla we had to say goodbye to Nancy, Ann and Nigel – twice! Just as we arrived Satish had managed to get tickets on the last flight out for the three of them- and about an hour yafter they had grabbed a quickly cooked bag of packed lunch, said goodbyes and accepted the fact that they will fly out, but their bags which hadn’t yet arrived on the backs of our mules wouldn’t, and had run off to the airport, their flight was cancelled. We reunited, happy to have a proper final evening together and express our appreciation to all staff with cake, some beers and mini speeches! The next day they were lucky and got the flight out to Nepalgunj and on to Kathmandu the same evening! Brilliant, since the alternative would have been a minimum 13 hour Jeep ride to Nepalgunj and a further flight to KTM on the next day. Well done Satish! Getting onto a rare flight from a minor airport in monsoon season takes much more than buying the ticket. He has now got new friends in the town of Jumla – we had dinner in the beautiful Royal Garden Hotel that evening, owned by the manager of the airline our dear friends managed to fly out on!
It’s been 5 days since the three of them left and I miss them already! Ann, stubborn and strong and with a brilliant sense of humour – I wish we had had more time at low altitude and more of those famous rest days together! Nigel and his bird twitching, fabulous story telling, love of the mountains and cocky World Cup commentary (and now they even made it into the semi finals – you must be blissfully happy, Nigel) and Nancy with your heart of gold, head of wisdom and unbelievable never ending energy! You all are an inspiration for me and I can’t wait to cross paths again very soon!!!
Meet more of the team
Russan Tamang, 25 years old, is Dawa Tamang’s younger brother and the much shyer version of Dawa which mostly Iikely has to do with the fact that his English is almost non-existent. Russan was with us from Section 1 through to the end of Section 5. He is strong and committed, has the most beautiful smile and is always very polite. During the team building activity he showed incredible focus and thus helped his group succeed. I hope he isn’t afraid to dream big and aim high in his ambitions for the future.
Raju Tamang, aka the Hobbit (his reddish hair and fair skin, small stature yet strong body and mind and his big smile supported this internal secret nickname we had for him) – and his good nature, jokes and true ambition to make conversation, improve his English and my Nepali will have him etched in my memory for ever more.
Shere Gurung, 38 years old, joined us for Section 4 and the transition to Section 5! He was one of the “kitchen boys” – the one in charge of the stoves, the kerosene and thus one of the most important men in the crew! He was the only Gurung in our mostly Tamang team.
