Trekking the Annapurna Region

Our Tibetan Settlement project complete, we're off to explore the mountains of Nepal. This, my second trek in the Himalayas, is different than the two-week trek to the base camp of Mount Everest because we stay in teahouses along the way rather than camp. The rooms are very basic, but it's much more relaxing to arrive at a teahouse, sit on chairs, perhaps by a warm pot belly stove, rather than huddle inside a dining tent, or sit on the ground in a two person tent.

Our trek is only four days--from Nayapul to Poon Hill. The trail itself is also different. While we're only going up to 3210 meters, around 10,000 feet, it seems as if it is mainly steps. I've heard there are 3,800 steps, but it seems like 38,000. The steps never seem to end. Some have been here from decades, others are more recent additions--pacing new trails, or to rebuild those destroyed by avalanches. Either way, they are masterfully laid.

We have one guide, Thapa, and two porters, Som and Karne, for four trekkers. The Nepalese all speak English, and are not surprised we are an all female group. Corinne and Carol set a faster pace, Diane stops to enjoy the scenery and adjust to the altitude. I keep my pace slow and steady in the middle. When we don't look at our feet to keep from tripping, we see snow covered Annapurna I, II, III, IV, & South, Machhapchhure and Fishtail. The sky is clear blue each day. Wispy clouds sometimes hover at eye level.

I recall the Everest Highway of trekkers, porters, cooks, stubborn donkeys, horses, goats and village kiosks along the way. I miss the naks and the yaks, monasteries, prayer flags and stupas. Are there fewer religious symbols because this is Moaist territory? We traverse streams, sometimes tiptoing over water along the paths, and listen to the roaring waterfalls. We appreciate them now, but know they can be devastating during the monsoon season. We pass through communities of grasshoppers, never sure why they reside in certain areas, but know their whereabouts by the sounds.

The steps are endless, but after two days of trekking, we reach our halfway point, Ghorepani. We drink Everest beer with our guide and porters and listen as Thapa plays the drum and sings traditional songs long into the night. Eden and Pat in newly purchased knit hats, on an 8 or 9-day trek, find us and we compare notes. They've come up the way we're going down. There are many steps either way.

5:30 a.m. we're up to climb our way up more steps to Poon Hill for sunrise. Looking up and down the hill, headlamps light the way. In 45 minutes, we're at the top. We join again with Pat and Eden and hundreds of others as the rays of the sun alight the mountains one streak at a time. These mountains truly are majestic. After the last pictures are taken of our two groups, we say good-bye to Pat and Eden and head down for breakfast and our good-byes to Carol and Corinne, who will speed their way down the mountain and back to Pokhara, while Diane and I meander back at a leisurely pace over two days.

We stop at a stone patio for lunch overlooking a massive valley of green, and continue down the hill. We end our day early to just sit and enjoy the environment. We marvel at the goings on around us as nine Nepali's prepare for a 21-day trek to Mustang, near the China/Tibetan border. Bags are being packed, animals are inspected, tables are tied together. The dining tent is pitched. This is the entourage of a lone grey-haired trekker from Sweden. We know this is costly as the permit alone is $500, but never hear the thoughts that have motivated this adventure.

We have dinner and afterwards teach Thapa and Som to play 10,000, a dice game. We entice two young sisters (age 9 and 13) who work at the teahouse to play with us. They do for a bit, until called back to work. We see them the next day, two hours walk down the mountain, where they've been pulling potatoes out of the field. They're working while going to school, miles from their home and parents.

Our last day of trekking is again leisurely. We stop to observe baby goats munchings on dried rice stalks, a woman weaving the simple yet efficient backpacks long worn by a caste of mountain people here, a man and woman peeling popcorn off cobs, woman sweeping the stone paths, and others working in their shops. Too soon, the number of shops increases, the dust is elevated, we hear horns honking and we know our trek is ending. It's back to Pokhara and Kathmandu, our last meal as a GCN group, and as others depart, I remain in Kathmandu for two weeks with a photojournalist.