Jomsom trek - Annapurna

"Yeti Airlines" swept us up safely from Pokhara and dumped us in Jomsom, a dusty town lying on the edge of the Mustang Valley. The Mustang region of Nepal is often referred to as 'The last forbidden Kingdom'. We might add here that the bus journey to Pokhara, and subsequent night of luxury at the Green Park Hotel, was nowt to write home about - we slept the entire six hours only to wake for the free lunch, a "all you can eat" buffet at some posh hotel. We filled our boots!

Flight in to Jomsom trumped the Kathmandu - Lukla effort by some way. The tiny 10-seater snaked its way through the Annapurna range in such a way that all on board, I'm sure, had to check the seat of their pants at least once! Though smaller than peaks dominating Everest National Park the Annapurna's are certainly more spectacular and endearing - a climber's wet dream.
This scenery and the vast array of landscapes have helped crown the Annapurna Circuit as Nepal's most popular trek. The full loop takes about 16 days, so given our previous trekking exploits, not to mention sudden heat wave, we opted for the shorter eight day Jomsom - Nayapul leg. After stuffing our faces with tea and toast in Jomsom (2710m) we set off east to Kagbeni (the opposite direction to that we should've gone) and the heart of Mustang Valley.

This stark and barren area of the middle Himalayas holds the last remnants of true Tibetan lifestyle untainted by foreign occupation. Whilst being annexed to Nepal, Mustang enjoys it's own autonomy and the residents live much the same as they have for centuries. To avoid this unique Kingdom being overrun by tourism the region has been gazetted as a restricted area with only small numbers of tourists given access every year.

Didn't see any Deliverence-esque scenarios unfolding, but the moon-like landscape was punctuated by the odd temporary settlement that Marit, rather worryingly, identified as Taliban training grounds! From Kagbeni we climbed to Jharkot (3550m) but turned back ahead of the world's largest pass, Thorung La, as demotivation began to set in. We rewarded ourselves, for five hours of feet dragging, with an over-sized slice of apple strudle at the outpost's rather aptly named"Yac Donalds".

In line with tradition, Marit managed to burn her nose so severely on this first day walking along the Annapurna trail, she decided to put all her desires to be fashionable aside and prevent further damage. The next few days of the trek, her nose would stay covered!

I suppose it would have been a good idea to weigh the packs before heading to Jomsom. Instead, we just headed out and we decided to carry it all ourselves. Or more to the point, Kris was carrying all the heavy stuff and Marit was just carrying the bag with food and drinks. This got lighter by the hour, forcing chocolate down our faces just to keep us going! The result, a cheery Marit and a puffed out, red faced Kris!

Where the Everest trail is packed with Yaks and their turds, the Annapurna trail has it's own variety of carriers, mules. And lots of them! In fact, there are so many of them we ended up in several "traffic jams". Mules are clearly an important part of the lives of people living along the Annapurna circuit. The animals can carry up to 50 kg each. It's a shame the herders don't take better care of their animals. The poor things are covered in sores and cuts and when not doing as requested they get showered by their owners with rocks. Nothing is more disturbing than watching innocent mules being abused like that by the people who fully rely on them. In fact, on more than one occassion we picked up a rock or two, tempted to throw them at the herders. See how they feel!

We set ourselves the target of reaching Ghasa on day two. Shame we forgot to look at the map's scale! No wonder people looked astonished whenever our destination popped up - it was more than 40 kilometers away! Still, never two to shy away from a challenge we pocketed the stupid map and trudged off west.

Paused in Marpha for more apple strudle - starting to realise where the "apple pie trek" nickname comes from - then onto Tukuche, Kalopani (getting tired now), Lete (really tired now) and finally Ghasa (2010m). The day took us along cliffs edges, through river beds and past ancient villages, and more villages, and more.... This never ending story of villages, river beds and cliffs got the better of us and just as we were about to collapse in a big heap there was Ghasa. Thank you so much! Beer, bucket shower, biriyani and bed was all we could motivate our tired bodies to do.

Even knowing that the day three's hike to Tatopani - rewarded with a dip in the hot springs - was less than five hours walk, talk about "couldn't be arsed". We allowed ourselves a lie in, but even then, Marit was packed and ready to go by the time I'd finished playing dead - no rest for the wicked! The trail this time stuck close to the Kali Gandaki River, rising and falling at intervals as it weaved its way to the springs (1190m). Nothing much of note here except Marit's venemous retort to my suggestion that we hire ponnies to help us cover the distance quicker.

After a tiresome 4 1/2 hour walk weaving our way up and down, we finally made Tatopani. First things first, we enjoyed a late lunch consisting of momo's and beer. Fed and watered we nipped to the springs for a spot of limb loosening. Word of warning. Never venture into a public bathing area after dining on beer and momos. It's embarrassing to say the least! Fortunately the heat of the water masked my blushes, and the aches and pains washed slowly away. Toasted our revitalised muscles with a bucketful of Everest Beer, Cordon Blue and Moussaka. Who says Nepalis can only cook rice?!

Although it is very little known, there are quite a number of natural hot water springs scattered around the Himalayan Kingdom of Nepal. Mineralogists estimate of having at least 50 hot water springs in the land belt stretching between the Himalayan and mountain regions. These hot water springs are locally known as tatopani simply meaning ‘hot water’. The most famous one being in Tatopani near the Friendship Bridge across the border of Nepal and China at the end of Kodari (Arniko) Highway.

The next leg of the trek was to Ghorepani. The hotel manager said the leg to Ghorepani (2750m) was tough. Understatement! Steps. Steps. And more f**king steps! What's fun about that? We lost count after 20,000 so the number must have outnumbered Jacob's Ladder. Stopped for a quick pancake, in Sikha, to keep the body breathing. Mind you the views were....what views? Spent the entire six hours with our eyes fixed firmly on the next step. Apple pie was the savour of the day. And lots of it!

Now when you're off on the trip of a lifetime there comes a point when the strenuous outdoors stuff has to take a back seat to relaxation and libation. Day five was it! Given that we'd clocked up some two-and-a-half weeks of trail blazing in March we decided now was the time to cash in our "time out" card. Destination: Pokhara. Course,when you drag your tired legs up one side of an inconveniently placed mountain, you've got to drag them down the other side. Oh, and did I mention that our descent came in the form of steps. Yep thousands more bar steward steps!

But we started the day early for one last push. Rose at 5am on day five to flirt with dawn on Poon Hill (3193m). Poon Hill lies in the foothills of the Annapurnas in the Himilayas. Whilst it is below the snowline in Nepal year-round, it is a wonderful hill to walk up for sunrise. A ridiculous time to done walking boots agreed, the hour-long hike was more than worth the effort. The views across the range were, are, stunning with Machhapuchhre, or "fish tail", (6993m), Annapurna South(7219m) Baraha Shikhar (7647m) and Annapurna I (8091m) all dominant. Enjoying a cup of coffee whilst watching the sun rise above the mountains sure is a good way to start the day, as long as you don't have to do it every day!

From the delights of a sunrise from heaven to a descent into hell. Step after back-breaking step we edged closer to Nayapul (1400m) stopping just once, to cool our sweating bodies in the waterfalls and lagoons of Tikhedhunga. Ahhhh.

Jomolungma's magic

Shame we couldn't get a bigger slice of the Everest cake. She's such a beauty, even from the 20 or so kilometres we were from her summit. The surrounding landscape sort of resembled the moon. No vegetatation, just yaks and yaks' turds!

Of all the mountains, Ama Dablam was surely the most intoxicating. Her peak looks like a 60s quiff, almost impossible to climb. (Indeed, three Japs lost their lives two weeks earlier trying to straddle that very mount!) Then there's Lhotse (8501m) and Lhotse Shar (8393m) that form the back-drop, the Numptse (7861m) Lhotse ridge the shinning necklace that Everest wears.

Interesting to note, for all you book worms out there, that Everest goes by three names. Everest, of course, the name given the mountain by "westerners". But in Tibetan she goes by Chomo Lungma, "Goddess Mother of Earth". And in Nepali, Jomolungma, which roughly translates into the aforementioned.

What with all the mythology and spiritualism that belies the mountain, and its neighbouring range, you'd have thought people would give it the respect it deserves. Apparently not. Never before have we seen so many ill-prepared inadequates attempting to achieve the unachievable. The agents and companies that sell the "treks" should be ashamed!

Roof of the world - Namche to Dingboche

Thanks to the dreaded altitude sickness it was up for me and down for Marit the dawn of day four. Though her condition had improved Marit decided, sensibly, that she would head south, very south, with a descending Indian and Nepali duo. I on the other hand saw an opportunity to improve on Dzongri and clock up more metres of altitude.

Along with "feckin hell" Dave, Caroline, Younis and, a Diamox-ised up to the eyeballs, Heather I managed Pangboche (3930m) and Tsuro Og (4190m) before lunch. Clocked up 4410m with Dingboche by 1pm, so it was with great confidence I embarked on a 600m vertical jig up the side of Nangkar Tshang (fuelled by the guesthouse's "Royal Dhalbatt" (rice and dhal)) to smash the 5000m barrier!

While I was toiling away for the "sake of blog", Marit was toasting her toes over a clay hearth quenching her thirst with Tuborg! (It's quite amazing what the porters drag up the mountain-side!) Her three-person party had made a successful mid-afternoon landing in Namche and Marit was keen to celebrate her new-found enthusiasm!

From what I understand, Marit savoured the chilled taste of "several" Tuborgs and feasted on spaghetti before recoiling to bed. I had to contain with Younis' digestive jitters - apparently Marit and I are not the only ones to suffer from Momo moments - and a cold south easterly that ripped through me sleeping bag like a......

Roof of the world - Namche to Tengboche

Even porridge couldn't breath strength into our aching legs the morning of day three. To be honest, this despite almost a week fag and drink free, we were probably wrong to set off early in the morning when every other trekker was using Nache as a base for acclimatisation or rest. Tell tale signs came early. Loss of appetite, puffy cheeks. Marit was fading fast and we both knew, only a Snickers would do!


Destination on day three was Tengboche. Situated at 3860m, not only is this monastery home to 50 Tawas (pupils) under the Dali Abbot's rule but also some of the finest vistas to be seen in the Himalaya! Tengboche has been heart of the Sherpa culture since the early 1900s and is home to a beautiful Buddhist gompa - almost, and I stress almost, worth the day's efforts alone.

The trouble really started after the uphill push from Phunki Tenga. Marit's energy just deserted her, the confidence shattered, as she dragged herself up some naughty bastard climbs. As all gentlemen should, I made a point of bearing my struggling girlfriend's load. Though I must admit, it was the constant slander and bickering that carried us, like a Momo-induced cloud, to the top and our bed for the night!

Roof of the world - Bengkar to Namche Bazar

Billed as a strenuous section of the trek, the four-hour climb toNamche Bazar left us clawing for air. Gentle in the offset, the path courts Dudh Koshi for about an hour before shooting right and rising about 100m where a swaying suspension bridge - the sort disaster movies are based on - awaits.

Safely across - it's amazing that, aged 28, we still manage to amuse ourselves by spitting into the void below - we munched enough chocolate to keep the average Swiss canton ticking over for weeks before casting our eyes heaven-wards in search of Namche Bazar, the Khumbu Valley's key trading post.

This stretch was hard, really hard, elevating us from a height of 3000m to 3440m as the track wove its way first through Larja Dobhanand then Choi Gang. Meter after monotonous metre of muddy trail was broken up only by "yak jams" or the sight of pupil-popping porters, sporting plimsolls, wrestling with their back-crushing loads.

We did, however, saviour our first glimpse of Jomolungma, or Everest, during a necessary break for water. Though shrouded in cloud (only early in the morning can one spot the peaks of the mighty +8000m gang) and some 70km away the sight was just the kick up the arse we needed to motivate our weary limbs for one final push up to Namche.

Described as the "gateway to the high Himalaya", Namche is a stunningly located town carved into the side of a mountain. The surrounding views are breath-taking, with peaks such as Khumbi Yul Lha(5761m), Phuletate (5597m), Malanphulan (6573m), Thamserku (6623m) and Ombigaichan (6340m) ensuring it's one hell of a show.

Roof of the world - Lukla to Bengkar

Given the limited time we had to explore the national park we didn't hang about in Lukla. Sure it's an inviting enough little town, but we had countless hours of hard work ahead and the sooner we got started the better.

Meandering out of Lukla (2840m) the path quickly drops several hundred metres making the opening few hours of the trek easy on the feet and enjoyable - a bonus when you've shunned the idea of a guide and porter and are thus charged with carrying your own load! Small Sherpa communities, such as Chheplung, Nurning and Phakding, help break up the journey, each catering for weary trekkers by way of tea shops, eateries and guest houses.

Though still Spring, the mighty Dudh Koshi river roared below. Vertical drops did their best to unnerve us as we tackled the first of countless lung-busting climbs, this time to 3000m, while rickety wooden bridges provided the only way of crossing the deep gorges decorated with Rhododendrons, Magnolias and Giant Firs.

Day one ended in Bengkar, a small village minutes away from the entry point to the national park. Pasang Nuru Sherpa was our host for the night - charging 80p for a bed and about double that for a bellyful off food. And our first day in the Himalaya ended as it had began, with the sun sprinkling its rays on those magical snowy peaks.

Roof of the world - Kathmandu to Lukla

Typical. We come all this way to straddle the "roof of the world" and the friggin plane won't take off! Mind you, the fog was rather dense! Yet, while rival airlines - with rather befitting names like Yeti and Buddah Air - remained stranded on the Tarmac (and the number of cancellations mounting) we were somewhat relieved to find ourselves being ushered onto the runway where we were greeted by one of Agni Air's rusty 12-seaters. On spotting our winged chariot for the first time, I must admit, we both muttered a small prayer before clambering aboard.

But even a two hour delay (we'd been at the airport since 5.30am) and rumbling bellies couldn't mask our excitement at heading into the mighty Himalaya. Once the twin-propellers finally got us air born we settled back and admired the views. And what views. The way the mountain range suddenly juts up from the valley floor is mesmerizing - luscious green hills transformed into towering white peaks that stretch as far as the eye can see.

It's said that the Himalaya is shifting north east at a rate of 2.5 inches a year, while the fault system responsible for this mountainous mass continues to eat India at a similar rate (what a shame we can't somehow speed this up). Just what exactly is going on below Terra firma to create this geographical marvel I'm not sure - despite a degree in physical geography - but it sure makes for a great view!

The only downside to our little foray into the mountains is Lukla, the airport and jump-off point for the Everest, or Sagarmatha, National Park. Just imagine a 200m stretch of concrete dangling precariously from the mountain-side. That's Lukla airport and it makes for one scary mother of a landing!

Kathmandu

Mounting death tolls and Maoist extremists aside, Nepal's a wonderful place. Difficult to describe how good it felt to spend several days leisurely exploring the delights of Kathmandu.

On first impressions (ie, trudging two kilometres into the city centre after a day and a half aboard the Pigmy Express) Nepal's capital is worthy of its tag as "Asia's most polluted city". Dilapidated buildings teeter on the point of collapse, beggars and rickshaw drivers mob unwitting crowds and diesel fumes give the air a metallic taste. But all the negativity stops there coz Kathmandu is a fabled city of convivial pilgrims and carved rose-brick temples. It reeks of history and culture and can be bewitching to all who visit.

Given the arduous few days travel we endured to get here, you would forgive us the luxury of a hotel room complete with piping hot shower and, wait for it, bath! Tucked away near the city's famous Durbar Square - a complex of palaces, courtyards and temples dating back to the 12th and 18th centuries - our six quid a night home was perfectly placed on the outskirts of Thamel, a mecca for travellers in search of a good drink and decent feed!

Thamel would rival Bangkok's Kao San Road for colour and life. It's mazy network of narrow streets offer everything from cheap travel agents to Pashmiri silks and yak wool, from cut-price outdoor gear to German bakeries. It's easy to get lost, and we did, in this hot pot of bars, restaurants and shops. Institutions such as the Kathmandu Guest House, Everest Steak House and K-Too Bar provide ample opportunity to quaff cheap chilled beer and over-indulge on red meat! And for the gamblers out there, well Kathmandu is home to numerous casinos, all of which welcome tourists with open arms and ply them, to their downfall, with free booze. Fortunately for us Marit knows when to say "enough"and we pocketed more than 5000 Rupees during one drunken night amidst the black jack tables!

Meanwhile, the surrounding valley is punctuated with countless shrines, temples, palaces and charming old bazaars. And the city deserves a special mention for its very own "live in" goddess, Kumari, who, though seldom seen, is venerated by all. (Interested parties note, the said Kumari is selected at age five and remains "goddess"until her period starts when she rejoins the real world).

Bye Bye India

The best thing about visiting India, as far as we're concerned, is you get to leave! After three months of side-stepping turds, random people pissing in streets, begging kids, temples (what is the lure of oddly shaped buildings, I don't get it) and rickshaw drivers (they are the Anti-Christ) it was such a good feeling to know we were off to pastures new.

But not without a right royal send off! Three days of relaxation, not to mention constant over indulging on the food front, in Sikkim's current capital (it changed to Gangtok in the aftermath of independence) was the perfect way to say "goodbye" to a country with which we'd forged a real love/hate relationship. And it was great to share Gangtok's delights with our trekking chums from Dzongri and to team up with a pair of Israel's finest in Yanir and Carmel.

Actually, other than the brand-spanking new cable car that hangs above Gangtok like a recently polished halo, Sikkim's capital was a little dull and disappointing. When a city shuts it's pub doors at 8pm you know something's wrong! India, oh India!

So, 6am on the 11th (and once again out-numbered by the cheese-hoarding Dutch) Marit, Roland and I jumped aboard another"share jeep". Destination Nepal! Yee Ha! Only, when an Indian says"share jeep" what they really mean is a four-wheeled sardine tin! Money-grabbing bar stewards! Still the four hour trip to the border town of Kakarbitta wasn't too bad by Indian standards, even though one spent the entire trip emptying her innards on the roadside.

And then ch ch change! The difference is amazing. I mean amazing. The anger and frustration that follows the act of doing something in India banished. Replaced by politeness and efficiency! Here it took two Nepalese officials less than five minutes to process our visas - a task that would've taken a dozen Indians several hours, if not days, to perform! To celebrate our new home we dined on Tibetan Momos - not a good thing for the other two dozen bus passengers - and slurped a few icy beers. (Everest Beer is particularly good!)

Unfortunately, our renewed optimism at crossing the border (I'm sorry but three months in India is too much for any sane person) proved a little too premature! Our salvation came crashing down around us, this time in the form of a Nepali bus! I shit you not, these things are made for Pigmys! Now I'm only 5ft 9, but even I smashed my head several times climbing aboard. So just think how poor ol' Marit and Roland must've felt.....for 23 hours!

That's right, what was sold as a trouble-free 14 hour bus trip was in fact 23 hours punctuated by road blocks and police escorts courtesy of those friendly Maoist activists! Even the beautiful, if rugged, scenery couldn't detract from this infuriating inconvenience. Add to that toilet breaks in the middle of veg markets (apparently we'd been carrying chickens on the roof) and the driver's liking for loud Indian music (it's really really shit) you can imagine how we felt when the Pigmy Express came to a sudden halt two miles short of Kathmandu! We walked!

Nevertheless, we're in Nepal! Of course we'll miss the spicy curries and cheap beer. But aside from that.....Marit? Nope, didn't think so.