Come on team; it's easy for us!
MON 13 July MEETING.
OBJECTIVES:
*to find out what is happening
*What will we do now
*where we are all at.
Disclosures/concerns
Mum
*It is the end of the trail
* How is KD to go on
* She’ll have to go soon to be in time for the plane
*Time to walk if necessary
* We have to go and get our stored things from Pokhara.
Dhurba:
* Feeling OK.
* Wishing for leg. (ie KD’s sore foot,)
* Feeling sad because Mum is sad.
Nadashree:
*Feeling heavy, something is down
* It is not the end
*Waiting for foot, but Thorung La is castle in the sky
*Reality Mum going back
*No big goal Thorung La
*Wants to go with Kdsa
* Wants Kathy to be happy.
Krishnadas: (recorded by Nadashree)
*Sometimes depress because foot
*Heavy atmosphere
*Thorung La no possible ?? 1 week
* More things to do
*Muktinath to see
* The foot is better.
WHAT GOALS.
Kathy:
Get to Kathmandu before 18th
*Walk from Nagarkot give stick and photos to Deva Kumari
* Take photos to Dhurba’s adopted family at Pokhara
*Spend a day at Pokhara…bikes and boats
* Buy some gifts at Pokhara,
*Send emails, photos etc
* get blackboard, pens and clothes for Dhurba’s pupils
Dhurba:
* Leave Nagarkot 23rd
* That Krishnadas, Nadashree and Kathy is happy.
Nadashree:
* Not to say bye from here
* Be in Nature more
*Spend time everybody happiness
*Chocolate and cheese
*Riding and boating in Pokhara
*Vipassana?
*Motorbike riding.
KD:
* See the mountains more
*Walk up some big hills
*Motorbike
* Spend time with Kathy and she’s happy
*See Muktinath.
PLAN OF ACTION.
To Pokhara ASAP
KD on horse to Jomsom -- others walk
KD booking plane.
1 Try to walk to Muktinath
2 Go Jomsom
3 Pokhara
4 Kathmandu
5 Go Nagarkot
6 Walk to Kathmandu again and take stick back.
~~~~~~~~~~~
14 to Jomsom
15 to Pokhara.
Two of these Yak were killed. We tried not to look, but I found the butching process fascinating. It seemed to be a communal project, with several men doing the work of dividing the carcass after carefully removing the skin. Actually, the killed beast was turned on its back, its own skin peeled off like a tent.
We didn't hear a sound from the beasts, and think they must have been bled. Certainly among the many villagers who passed by with tin containers full of meat, there were several with cups of blood.
It took all day, and at the end there was nothing left at the site. Hopeful dogs came and sniffed around but there were only a few chips.
But dogs barked all night, not only in this village but in neighbouring ones.
two yaks
slaughtered on the stones
by Muktinath
where pilgrims pray --
dogs bark all night
WEDNESDAY 13 JULY. From the town below Muktinath,( RANIPAUWA) to JHARKOT, along the desert above KAGBENI, across the riverbed and many stones to JOMSOM.
Below Ranipauwa, people are bringing in the wheat, stacking the hay on rooftops.
Jharkot. The Gompa (where we went to get help for Matt's foot,) sticks up at the highest point.
JOMSOM.
A thinner me. Sometimes Nepalese spelling has me in stitches... Click on the picture to see why.
Thurs 14 July 0630
Back in our room (R6 Kaligandiki The River View,) the day after a long slog with more adventures.
Said river churns past, contrary to the wind as always, the willows beside it waving their long branches in the other current.
We have bookings: by helicopter to Pokhara today - which was to have been confirmed by 2000hrs yesterday, and wasn’t, or by aircraft tomorrow, weather permitting.
Nadashree and Krishnadas announced last night that they were going to head out early to see the lake.
There was some consternation looking for the muesli, which we have carried around for the entire trek, (1kg) and which can not now be located. Dhurba is upset. I tell him don’t worry. We are all tired and not being very realistic.
It’s 0700 now and the ‘JIMI HENDRIX Oct 1967’ door is shut but with no padlock. So the intrepid adventurers are still inside.
Retrospective in italics, interspersed with present time.
So. Ten hours of struggle yesterday, especially for my son, who decided at 0730 yesterday, (while awaiting the horse-man,) that he would walk. The foot was much better.
The horseman took the news well:
Matt: "One problem. I'm walking."
HM: "No problem."
Later though, when Matthew tried to apologize, he was unsmiling and said, "You drive me crazy."
Yep, me too, Horseman.
Matt went to the ‘real Muktinath’ the day before, after our meeting. Quite an accomplishment. He used two sticks, and went slowly.
Here he is, putting on the agony.
But coming towards me with those sticks I had a flashback of his father doggedly continuing on crutches when he had deep vein thromboses. Matt is like him, especially as he was then. I see him so often in Matthew’s expressions and body movements.
It was a happy time for him, Nadashree and Dhurba though.
The journey to Jomsom began at 0730. Slowly. (Bet the horseman wished he’d been on time! 0700 was the allotted hour.) Nadashree and Durba went on ahead to order food for us.
My sunny son on the way to Jomsom.
They had omelets and chapattis waiting at the Peace House in Jharkot, when we popped in, grabbed our take-aways and left. At first, walking again through the oasis-town, I was looking forward to meeting N and D again and sharing a picnic, but 20 mins before we stopped, nausea and dizziness overtook me. It was hot. We rested by a wall next to a stream. I couldn’t eat.
Shortly after we resumed our journey I again got nauseous and had to sit beneath a tree. I noticed that I was trembling, hot then goosebump cold. Dizzy too.
A little later, down the track, it occurred to me that I may be hypoglycaemic since I hadn’t eaten for two days prior to this morn. Dhurba had two sweets in his pocket. Viola! Nausea faded. Dizziness went.
We stopped again at ‘Romeo and Juliet’ guesthouse where we’d got the scarves on the way up. I forced down a couple of biscuits but had to lie down on the couch. Fanta fixed me. The lady bahini gave me roasted/fried wheat and gentle touches as she passed.
Matt brought some things from her, spending his horse-money, intending to set up a stall in the West sometime.
The old dreadlocked dog moved from the sun to the shade.
We set out strongly, stopping again at a stone shelter in the middle of a high rocky desert plain, joined by other travellers. A Frenchman and his woman, their guide, three nepali and a horseman.
Also a troupe of schoolchildren with their teacher! He recognised us from Jimi Hendrix and greeted us warmly. Just an ordinary excursion for them -urk-
Our gang ate biscuits, drank water, sang and laughed. D smoked, hidden inside.
0730
Noises from the Jimi Hendrix room! They are waking up. Donkeys pass by dongdongdongdong
….Over a high pass, the wind whipping our clothes and stinging our legs with small stones! We take photos, balanced on the wind.
Danger on the narrow path, the wind knocking us, stones falling away from underfoot, sliding in rattles away.
Donkeys passed, laden with tourists. I stopped by the land side of the pass rather than the drop side, and just as well, for one donkey came too close, knocked me with a saddlebag and sent me a-topple onto my bum.
(“Sorry, sorry,” said the guide as he went by on his donkey.) Matt gave the errant donkey a smack on its rear.
Next stop, Hotel Hillton, Eklebahati (or Little Kagbeni.) Nad and Dhurba have gone on ahead again: there is lemon tea waiting and food ordered. We are tired, though Dhurba has been surfing loose rocks. M and I inspect the fossills we‘ve collected from the highlands, and decide which to keep, size and weight being a big factor.
0750
Aha! Nadashree! She comes in. I kiss her. “Thee beeg one es sore,” so he sleeps.
…We came to the floodplain, M and I, D and N having gone ahead. The plain has changed; the river is more focussed, deeper, wilder.
0800. Nadashree comes in again - “There is a call - there will be more planes - maybe today is good time - on the second plane we have seats.”
“YAAAAAAAAAAA!” goes Dhurba. He jumps up, runs out, comes back subdued: “IF plane come. Bastards.” Oh well. It got him out of bed.
He’s been lying there, eyes sparkling, at Nadashree’s comments re no trek for her and KD today. “What did I tell you last night?” I say when she has gone. He turns his laughing face away.
He’s back in bed now, talking to the proprietress outside the door.
“Namaste Sukmaya bahini,” I call.
‘Namaste didi,” she replies, looking in, then talking to Dhurba in Nepalese.
“What did she say about the plane?” I ask when she has gone.
“If the helicopter come, possible flight. If Ghurka airlines come, possible flight. Any airlines come, possible flight for tourist.
I go Airlines! I have chance to fly. Why bother sleeping in beds,” he says, putting his shoes on. “I wash my face after plane ride,” he says, his face one big smile.
“You may have to wash your pants,” I tell him, smiling back.
The wind busies the prayer flags and the trees. Flights? We’ll see.
D is off to the booking office. I ask, “Which are we going on? Airplane or helicopter?”
“Oooo I want to go sky! Many times I book airplane -- I work travel agent. I go airplane! I want to go seat!”
He has never flown. Matt and I have been describing take-off to him, the magic of flight. He gets soooo excited, wants his picture taken getting on the plane.
…The river yesterday. We cross a ricketty wooden bridge, the wind catching our backpacks, rocking us sideways as the bridge sways. We hold the wire and our sticks, our feet clomping on uneven boards, stumbling with the wind and the slope; a slab of stone replaces a board and tips the bridge askew.
Shortly after we cross smaller torrents, on logs laid across. They move as we tread them. One by one, we pass.
Stones, stones, stones. All kinds, mixed together. Unlikely conglomerates fall back to the river bed, some stones already river-rounded, some sharp slabs. Towering cliffs dwarf us. Again, all kinds; some great spectacular faults, folded or at angles, some vertical.
0930.
Donkeys pass by dongdongdongdong… They have yellow sacks bulging on their backs.
“Whaaa a ah!” says the donkey man.
A man goes by loaded with a huge white sack that rises above his head and reaches below his buttocks.Matthew goes “Owerowerowower,” waking in his bed across the way.
…… Stones wait to fall from all heights, of all sizes, colours and shapes. We hurry past as best we can, over stones of all colours…. as far from the cliff as we can.
Dhurba and Nadashree wait, far away. We catch up. D has gone ahead; we can see Jomsom, perched on a headland to the right of the plain, stretching away and away.
I trudge towards a block; a wire basketful of stones intending to lean, backpack first, there. Black sandy soil parts, slurps, grabs my feet. Mud. I go down, knees first, then hands, feet crossed.
“Nadashri!” I call to her, departing.
She and matt come, Nad exclaiming, “ Oh dear! Are you hhurt?”
I push myself up using my stick and there is much hilarity re the perfect imprint.
“Hollywood!” says Nadashree, and she prints my name, KATHY EARSMAN, 2005, there, in case it turns into a fossil. She doubs mud on Matt’s nose. He daubs hers.
My legs from knees down are caked as are my now heavy boots. Nadashree puts mud on my nose. I use my hand as a pallette, paint streaks on her laughing cheeks, her forehead, and she mine.
“Wish I had the camera to get that,” I say to Matt after she’d gone.
“I got it,” he says, smiling. The camera is with Dhurba, a dot in the distance..
