The Annapurna circuit trek usually takes about 20 days. The trail circles six giants of more than 7000m elevation (Annapurna I-IV, Gangapurna and Annapurna South) and goes over one pass at 5416m (Thorong La). After about 10 days you reach a city called Jomsom. Unfortunately, the Nepali government built a road from Jomsom to the end of the trek a couple of years ago. This road, which replaces long stretches of the original hiking trail, is said to largely ruin the charm of the second part of what is considered one of the most beautiful treks in the world. My plan was to see how I felt when I reached Jomsom, and to decide there whether or not to continue. If I would still be enjoying myself towards the end of the circuit, I had the option of continuing to the Annapurna sanctuary, in the heart of the massif, which would take me an additional six days. The Annapurna region draws big crowds - about 80000 people visited the Annapurna Conservation Area last year. It is well known that in high season, which starts in October, there are just too many people to enjoy it. I started in mid-September, when the masses hadn't arrived yet. If I was lucky, monsoon would stop just in time so that I would have great views, without being part of one continuous procession of tourists. I was hoping that, for once, I would be at the right place at the right time. There is a lot of advertisement for guides and porters in Pokhara - every Nepali seems to be a trekking expert -, but many people had told me I needed neither.
It was ominously cloudy when I took the bus to Besi Sahar, the starting point of the Annapurna circuit trek. I was supposed to be excited about what was coming, but I was not. I had two major concerns: the weather, and company. Like I had done in Ladakh, I left alone, hoping I would meet some nice people right away, on the way to Besi Sahar. After my bad experience on my previous trek, I had promised myself I would never walk alone. Unfortunately, I was the only trekker on the bus. I had visions of me walking all alone, in the rain, with no views but gray clouds and misty valleys, for three weeks. Those weather gods - I just didn't trust them anymore. Just as I got out of the bus in Besi Sahar, rain started to pour. Even though I knew there was a bus to the next village, I had decided to go on foot. In spite of the rain, I stubbornly started walking. After not more than 50m, I already found myself having to cross a large river. That was more than I could bear; I went back and took the bus. As I sat there, staring at the raindrops rolling down the windows, I realized things were looking pretty grim. You can imagine my relief when I ran into some people at a checkpoint just after getting off the bus. I met two Finnish girls and four Australians, all with guides and porters. The rain had stopped, and we had a nice and short walk to the next village, where we spent the night. I was where I wanted to be, and I had some company - day one was a mild success.
For the next two days, I walked with the same people. They were pretty slow and stopped early, but I had promised myself I would take it easy and enjoy, and I was very happy to have company. The scenery on the Annapurna circuit trek is said to change continuously; this was true right from the start. We started below 1000m elevation. The earth had drunk greedily from the heavy monsoon rains, and everything was lush green. The hills in that area - as most of the Nepali hills - are almost entirely turned into rice terraces. Water was rushing down the slopes in big and small waterfalls. On day three (the second proper day of hiking), the hills became more rocky, and the rice terraces disappeared. There were many landslides, which we spent quite some time and energy avoiding. Some of us had leeches, but I was spared, although I did catch one in the act of penetrating my gore-tex boots.
On the morning of day four, we saw snow for the first time, on a distant mountain top. The hills were getting even more rocky, with large pine forests. I wanted to go a bit faster, and I decided that this time it was safe enough to walk alone. For the first time on the trek, I crossed picturesque villages with a relaxed, rural atmosphere, and Tibetan prayer flags were starting to make their appearance. After a pretty long day of walking mostly on my own, I was glad to meet a nice English couple, whose company I would enjoy that night and the next day.
Day five was the first one with clear weather. We had some magnificent views of the majestic Annapurna II (7937m), as well as Paungda Danda, a huge curved rock face of more than 1500m high. That night we stayed in Pisang, which I found the first truly special place. The village lies in a long valley, and is dominated by Annapurna II, towering 4700m higher. The upper part of Pisang, where we stayed, consists of old mud brick houses, surrounded by red buckwheat fields. There are plenty of mani stones (stone plates inscribed with Buddhist mantras), prayer wheels, and a beautiful little temple. We were now above 3000m, and it was starting to get really cold at night.
Day six was one of the most exhilarating hikes of the whole trip. I left alone, because my English companions were taking a shorter path. It was cloudy when I started, but soon enough the sun came through, and the most amazing views of Annapurna II and IV slowly emerged from the fog. After a steep climb I reached Ghyaru, one of the most picturesque villages I have seen. The mud brick houses are surrounded by a soft patchwork blanket of red buckwheat and yellow barley fields. When I walked a bit further, past a flock of hovering vultures, I reached a pass between the valley of Pisang and the next. I had a view on the entire valley, mostly populated by pine trees, with Pisang in the distance, the surreal Paungda Danda rock face shimmering behind, and Annapurna II and IV rising high above. On the other side, the valley was much dryer. The pine trees were much less densely scattered around the valley. The slopes were mostly rocks and some bushes. I went down to the next village and had lunch there. While I was waiting for my food, the clouds slowly revealed the impressive, massive, rough Annapurna III (7575m) at the other side of the valley. The rest of the afternoon was a beautiful walk between the pines in the valley. The clouds played with me, continuously changing the view, allowing me to see some peaks while covering others. Erosion had carved unlikely shapes out of some of the rocks, reminding me a bit of Cappadocia, in Turkey. After visiting the charming village of Braga, I arrived in Manang (3500m), the most common acclimatization spot before the Thorong-La pass. I was all alone in a big, overpriced hotel, and I thought that for the first time, I would have dinner alone. Fortunately, I ran into the friendly Dutch couple I had met a few times in the previous days. I was glad to find out that he wanted to do the same thing as me on our acclimatization day: climb up to Ice Lake. She was not too keen on the side trip, which involves climbing more than 1000m (from 3480m to 4620m), so she decided to stay in Manang.
On day six. The Pisang valley with Paungda Danda on the left and a part of Annapurna II on the right.
The weather the next day was not so good. It was more or less dry, but very cloudy. Still we enjoyed the steep climb, which turned out to be the most difficult one of the whole circuit. When we reached Ice Lake (which was not frozen at all), it was cold and drizzly. We had occasional glimpses of the snow-capped mountains on the other side of the valley - just enough to make us realize how amazing the spot must be in clear weather. The best moment was when we came across a big herd of majestic yaks, with their long hair and huge horns.
The next two days were short. We weren't supposed to climb too fast because of the altitude. When I reached the hostel after just a few hours, I was extremely frustrated. I wanted to go on, to the pass! But since it was foggy and drizzly, and my guidebook strongly advised to spend a night there, I decided to stay. I was rewarded with excellent company - the Dutch couple and three Israelis -, with whom I spent a cozy afternoon playing cards. The next morning, we reached the last stop before the pass, called Thorong Phedi (4450 m). There we did the same thing as the day before: playing cards, drinking tea and eating cake. The weather was still not so good. In the afternoon, the sky cleared up a bit, and we noticed how close by Gangapurna (7455 m) had been all the time. Unfortunately, the cloud curtains were closed again shortly after. I decided that I would wait for the weather to get better before going up to the pass. I went to bed with the secret hope of having a clear sky the next morning, although I knew that it was not very likely at all. When I woke up at 5 the next morning, the first thing I did was to look out the window. Stars, I saw stars! When I got out of my room, I saw Gangapurna, beautifully lit by moonlight. All of a sudden, I was bursting with impatience. I knew from my trek in Sikkim how quickly the clouds could roll in, so I wanted to get up there as soon as possible. I shoveled my breakfast down, hastily packed my bag, and left. I rushed up, only stopping every once in a while to take pictures. The first bit, a steep 500 m slope made up of scree, was the hardest one. A herd of animals - supposedly blue sheep - were causing fairly large rocks to roll down. The mild fear made me accelerate even more, even though I was a bit worried about those behind me. In the meantime, the sun was coming up, coloring Gangapurna beautifully orange. After the first climb, it got much easier. The slopes were less steep, and regularly interrupted by flat parts. I could feel the altitude, but the many Kodak moments were enough to let me catch my breath. On and on I walked, through this landscape of rocks and snowy peaks. After 2:30 hrs, I reached a bunch of prayer flags, and a sign that said: "Thorong-La Pass. 5416 m. Congratulations for the success!!! Hope you enjoyed the trek in Manang. See you again!!!". I arrived in t-shirt, but quickly put on all my clothes because it was cold and windy. The first few minutes I felt a bit confused, undoubtedly because of the altitude. After taking some pictures (there was one other man up there at that moment), I started exploring the surroundings. There is a small hut where some brave people sold tea, and two mounds with prayer flags. The snowline was not much higher; there was snow on both sides of the saddle-shaped pass. The valley on the western side of Thorong-La is extremely barren - the same rugged landscape I knew from Ladakh. On the far side of the valley, which is deep and broad, I saw a series of snow-capped mountains. On the side I had come from, the peaks were very close by. I decided to stay and wait for my friends. It was cold, but not unbearably so. I spent some time walking around, taking pictures, and welcoming new arrivals. After two hours, there was still no sign of my friends, and I started to get a headache, so I started heading down. The way down was strenuous - a steep 1500 m descent over mostly scree. As it got hotter and hotter, a bright green patch started to appear in the valley. The village of Muktinath lay before us like an oasis, a promised land - that's how it felt after spending a couple of days without seeing any greenery. While I was having lunch, my friends caught up with me. That's when I met the Dutch guy and the Scottish girl with whom I would spent the rest of my trip.
The next day, I walked around the valley with my new companions. Muktinath is an important pilgrimage site for Hindus and Buddhists. We visited the big temple there, where fortunately there weren't too many people. The weather was still excellent, and the relaxed atmosphere was one of genuine worship . We also visited a smaller village with a Buddhist monastery, and walked on a ridge where we had astonishing views of the surroundings.
Muktinath
After a good night's sleep and a breathtaking sunrise, we continued or journey. I told you a road starts in Jomsom; in fact, a dirt road, suitable for jeeps, connects Muktinath and Jomsom. We took a detour to avoid the road, which proved to be an excellent idea. We crossed a small pass with the best views of the Muktinath valley. In the next valley, we needed to cross a river to reach the village of Lubra. When we got there, we found ourselves facing a violent torrent, with no bridge in sight. It wasn't so broad - less than 5 m, I think -, but it was turbulent, and the dark color of the water didn't help to make it inviting. Remembering my ordeal in Ladakh, I was quite reluctant to cross it. Okay, I confess, I was frankly scared. Luckily, the Scottish girl had experience in river crossing. She boldly threw off her backpack, took her shoes off, took my walking stick (a piece of bamboo I had found on some landslide), and crossed the river. Yes, but that's without backpack, I said. But my friend knew a special technique. We stood in a circle, facing each other, arms around each other's shoulders, and rotated while crossing the river. We reached the other side easily, and walked on to the village. We soon realized it had been worth the effort: Lubra is an extremely picturesque place, which obviously doesn't see many tourists. Another thing that makes it interesting is that it has two monasteries of Bön religion, the Tibetan spiritual tradition before Buddhism. We were starving, but there was no restaurant, so we ended up having delicious lunch in someone's home. After lunch, we continued walking towards the village of Kagbeni. This was a huge detour - more or less two sides of a triangle -, but we thought it might be worth it. Kagbeni is the closest you can get to the region of upper Mustang, a former kingdom with close ties to Tibet, which is now part of Nepal. To get further north than Kagbeni, you need to pay 500$ for a permit. On the way there, we walked across a small desert plateau, with nothing but rocks and dry bushes. It was worth the detour: Kagbeni is a lovely village with mud brick houses and narrow streets and tunnels, where the sound of playing children mingles with the bleating of sheep.
The next three days were all about trying to avoid the road. We tried as much as we could to stay on the other side of the river, and visit some villages there. The weather remained excellent. On the morning of day thirteen we walked to Jomsom - the town where the road starts - on the broad valley floor, made up mainly of loose rocks; no trees were to be seen. In the afternoon we crossed the river to avoid the road, and found ourselves back in a rocky scenery with pine tress, much like in the vicinity of Manang, on the other side of the pass. The views of mount Nilgiri (6140 m) were amazing. As would be the case in the next few days, there was no way to avoid the road on the last bit before the village where we spent the night. On day fourteen and fifteen, the vegetation got denser and denser. Day fifteen was not an easy day. We were determined to stay on the other side of the river for as long as we could. There were a couple of rivers to cross, and we were unsure about the existence or the state of bridges. After a couple of hours, we got to a broad valley with a river and no bridge. We applied the same trick as before, and I was glad we did because it was deeper and more violent than the previous one. When we got to the next village, some people kindly informed us that we couldn't go that way because some bridge had collapsed. There were several bridges on our map, so we stubbornly tried to find another one. We got lost in the forest, and tried to find our way pretty much on intuition. We understood that our sixth sense wasn't what we had hoped for when we found ourselves on top of a huge cliff. We wisely decided to go back to a village where we knew for a fact that there was a bridge, and walked the rest of the way on the road.
mount Nilgiri
On day sixteen, we walked to Tatopani, a village well known for its hot springs. The road was unavoidable, but in spite of that, the walk was very beautiful. We were below 2000 m, and everything was green again. Big waterfalls rushed down the hills. We saw orange and banana trees and colorful flowers, as well as lizards, butterflies and dragonflies. The valley was buzzing with life; I can barely imagine a bigger contrast with the barren scenery of the north part of the trek. We arrived early and spent a relaxing afternoon. I didn't expect much of the hot springs, but I was pleasantly surprised. I had never had a hot bath in such a beautiful setting.
The next day we walked to Ghorepani, also a famous place because of nearby Poon Hill (3200 m), which offers a great view of the Annapurnas. It was a long and monotonous day. It got cloudier and cloudier as the day went on, and we arrived in Ghorepani in the rain. Again, like before the pass, I went to bed with the secret hope that everything would be fine in the morning.
Again, we were lucky. When we woke up, before dawn, the clouds had cleared, and the sky was starry. It was the 3rd of October, and the tourist season had clearly begun. We had to overtake dozens of people on our way to the hilltop. Poon Hill deserves its success, though. The Annapurnas and surrounding mountains are so close that you feel like you could almost touch them. I had my first good view of the spectacular Machhapuchhre or mount Fishtail (6998 m), called like this because of its sharp double peak. After second breakfast, we started the long walk towards the Annapurna Sanctuary. I had decided by then that I wanted to go all the way to base camp, and so did my companions. We had worked out that we could probably reach it in three days, and it seemed silly not to do it. It was a long day, but the views were beautiful. We walked through a forest which, with its lianas and moss-covered trees, looked like something out of a fairy-tale. The next day, we walked up to Himalayan Hotel (3270 m). The big star on the way to Annapurna base camp is mount Fishtail. With its sharp, jagged form, I understand why this mountain is considered holy; I couldn't take my eyes of it.
On day twenty, we walked to Annapurna base camp (ABC). It was beautifully clear, and mount Fishtail was looking stunning. I got impatient again, and left my friends behind. I didn't want to stop, I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to drink - I just wanted to get to the Sanctuary. Just like on my way to Thorong-La, I had to force myself to stop to enjoy the view and take some pictures. Mountains appeared everywhere: Gangapurna and Annapurna III at the end of the valley (to the north), and later on, as I reached Machhapuchhre base camp (MBC), Annapurna South to the west. I understood how the Annapurna Sanctuary got its name. They are all standing there, these white giants with their unlikely shapes, as if they are guarding the entrance to some mysterious paradise. At MBC, the trail makes a 90° turn to the west to go up to ABC. Since the last bit is fairly flat, base camp is visible from a distance. Still, it has a big surprise in store. Just as you reach ABC, you discover Annapurna I (8091 m), the biggest one of all, was hiding right around the corner (to the north). The base of the massive mountain is clad with three glaciers. Left of Annapurna I stands Annapurna South, which also ends in glaciers. All this forms a surreal arena of snow, rocks and ice. Between base camp and Annapurna I lies a huge plain of sand and gravel - as my Scottish friend put it, a cat wouldn't have any problem to find a place to relieve itself here. Just when I reached base camp, clouds rolled in fast. We spent the afternoon in a dense fog, which, helped by the occasional crashing sounds when gigantic blocks of ice detached from the glaciers, gave an apocalyptic dimension to the place. It seemed like a dead end, the end of the world. And then, in the late afternoon, something unexpected happened: the sky completely cleared up. We witnessed possibly the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen, which colored mount Fishtail orange, and then red. This was followed by an amazing starry sky, which we could enjoy only briefly because of the cold - after all, we were at 4130 m. The next morning, we woke up before sunrise, which was just as beautiful as sunset. The sky was perfectly clear, and we spent some time walking around there, drinking with our eyes.
Sunset on mount Fishtail
With my friends, in front of Annapurna I
And then, it was time to go back down. I had seen everything I wanted to see, and was looking forward to the continuation of my trip, hopefully to Tibet. When we stopped relatively early that afternoon, I got a bit angry. My companions clearly didn't share my impatience, so I decided I would walk on my own pace the next day, and try to reach the end of the trek. In spite of my hurry, I did enjoy day twenty-two, the last day of walking. I saw a deer and monkeys, and was back in the land of rice terraces and typical Hindu villages. A thunderstorm caught up with me, so I walked the last hour in the pouring rain. That night I had dinner alone. I smiled at the thought that the two things I had been afraid of - rain and being alone - didn't occur once until the very last day.
When I left the Annapurna area the next day, I felt strange. For three weeks, all I had done was walking - and I had enjoyed it intensely. I had to go back to the so-called civilized world, with its cars and its crowds and its hurry. I had one final surprise: I spent the two-hour journey back to Pokhara on top of the bus. From there, I had some last incredible views of the snow-capped mountains, including mount Fishtail. I returned to Pokhara extremely satisfied with my trek, but a bit nervous about all the arrangements I had to make for my trip to Tibet.
Day six was one of the most exhilarating hikes of the whole trip. I left alone, because my English companions were taking a shorter path. It was cloudy when I started, but soon enough the sun came through, and the most amazing views of Annapurna II and IV slowly emerged from the fog. After a steep climb I reached Ghyaru, one of the most picturesque villages I have seen. The mud brick houses are surrounded by a soft patchwork blanket of red buckwheat and yellow barley fields. When I walked a bit further, past a flock of hovering vultures, I reached a pass between the valley of Pisang and the next. I had a view on the entire valley, mostly populated by pine trees, with Pisang in the distance, the surreal Paungda Danda rock face shimmering behind, and Annapurna II and IV rising high above. On the other side, the valley was much dryer. The pine trees were much less densely scattered around the valley. The slopes were mostly rocks and some bushes. I went down to the next village and had lunch there. While I was waiting for my food, the clouds slowly revealed the impressive, massive, rough Annapurna III (7575m) at the other side of the valley. The rest of the afternoon was a beautiful walk between the pines in the valley. The clouds played with me, continuously changing the view, allowing me to see some peaks while covering others. Erosion had carved unlikely shapes out of some of the rocks, reminding me a bit of Cappadocia, in Turkey. After visiting the charming village of Braga, I arrived in Manang (3500m), the most common acclimatization spot before the Thorong-La pass. I was all alone in a big, overpriced hotel, and I thought that for the first time, I would have dinner alone. Fortunately, I ran into the friendly Dutch couple I had met a few times in the previous days. I was glad to find out that he wanted to do the same thing as me on our acclimatization day: climb up to Ice Lake. She was not too keen on the side trip, which involves climbing more than 1000m (from 3480m to 4620m), so she decided to stay in Manang.
On day six. The Pisang valley with Paungda Danda on the left and a part of Annapurna II on the right.The weather the next day was not so good. It was more or less dry, but very cloudy. Still we enjoyed the steep climb, which turned out to be the most difficult one of the whole circuit. When we reached Ice Lake (which was not frozen at all), it was cold and drizzly. We had occasional glimpses of the snow-capped mountains on the other side of the valley - just enough to make us realize how amazing the spot must be in clear weather. The best moment was when we came across a big herd of majestic yaks, with their long hair and huge horns.
The next two days were short. We weren't supposed to climb too fast because of the altitude. When I reached the hostel after just a few hours, I was extremely frustrated. I wanted to go on, to the pass! But since it was foggy and drizzly, and my guidebook strongly advised to spend a night there, I decided to stay. I was rewarded with excellent company - the Dutch couple and three Israelis -, with whom I spent a cozy afternoon playing cards. The next morning, we reached the last stop before the pass, called Thorong Phedi (4450 m). There we did the same thing as the day before: playing cards, drinking tea and eating cake. The weather was still not so good. In the afternoon, the sky cleared up a bit, and we noticed how close by Gangapurna (7455 m) had been all the time. Unfortunately, the cloud curtains were closed again shortly after. I decided that I would wait for the weather to get better before going up to the pass. I went to bed with the secret hope of having a clear sky the next morning, although I knew that it was not very likely at all. When I woke up at 5 the next morning, the first thing I did was to look out the window. Stars, I saw stars! When I got out of my room, I saw Gangapurna, beautifully lit by moonlight. All of a sudden, I was bursting with impatience. I knew from my trek in Sikkim how quickly the clouds could roll in, so I wanted to get up there as soon as possible. I shoveled my breakfast down, hastily packed my bag, and left. I rushed up, only stopping every once in a while to take pictures. The first bit, a steep 500 m slope made up of scree, was the hardest one. A herd of animals - supposedly blue sheep - were causing fairly large rocks to roll down. The mild fear made me accelerate even more, even though I was a bit worried about those behind me. In the meantime, the sun was coming up, coloring Gangapurna beautifully orange. After the first climb, it got much easier. The slopes were less steep, and regularly interrupted by flat parts. I could feel the altitude, but the many Kodak moments were enough to let me catch my breath. On and on I walked, through this landscape of rocks and snowy peaks. After 2:30 hrs, I reached a bunch of prayer flags, and a sign that said: "Thorong-La Pass. 5416 m. Congratulations for the success!!! Hope you enjoyed the trek in Manang. See you again!!!". I arrived in t-shirt, but quickly put on all my clothes because it was cold and windy. The first few minutes I felt a bit confused, undoubtedly because of the altitude. After taking some pictures (there was one other man up there at that moment), I started exploring the surroundings. There is a small hut where some brave people sold tea, and two mounds with prayer flags. The snowline was not much higher; there was snow on both sides of the saddle-shaped pass. The valley on the western side of Thorong-La is extremely barren - the same rugged landscape I knew from Ladakh. On the far side of the valley, which is deep and broad, I saw a series of snow-capped mountains. On the side I had come from, the peaks were very close by. I decided to stay and wait for my friends. It was cold, but not unbearably so. I spent some time walking around, taking pictures, and welcoming new arrivals. After two hours, there was still no sign of my friends, and I started to get a headache, so I started heading down. The way down was strenuous - a steep 1500 m descent over mostly scree. As it got hotter and hotter, a bright green patch started to appear in the valley. The village of Muktinath lay before us like an oasis, a promised land - that's how it felt after spending a couple of days without seeing any greenery. While I was having lunch, my friends caught up with me. That's when I met the Dutch guy and the Scottish girl with whom I would spent the rest of my trip.
The next day, I walked around the valley with my new companions. Muktinath is an important pilgrimage site for Hindus and Buddhists. We visited the big temple there, where fortunately there weren't too many people. The weather was still excellent, and the relaxed atmosphere was one of genuine worship . We also visited a smaller village with a Buddhist monastery, and walked on a ridge where we had astonishing views of the surroundings.
MuktinathAfter a good night's sleep and a breathtaking sunrise, we continued or journey. I told you a road starts in Jomsom; in fact, a dirt road, suitable for jeeps, connects Muktinath and Jomsom. We took a detour to avoid the road, which proved to be an excellent idea. We crossed a small pass with the best views of the Muktinath valley. In the next valley, we needed to cross a river to reach the village of Lubra. When we got there, we found ourselves facing a violent torrent, with no bridge in sight. It wasn't so broad - less than 5 m, I think -, but it was turbulent, and the dark color of the water didn't help to make it inviting. Remembering my ordeal in Ladakh, I was quite reluctant to cross it. Okay, I confess, I was frankly scared. Luckily, the Scottish girl had experience in river crossing. She boldly threw off her backpack, took her shoes off, took my walking stick (a piece of bamboo I had found on some landslide), and crossed the river. Yes, but that's without backpack, I said. But my friend knew a special technique. We stood in a circle, facing each other, arms around each other's shoulders, and rotated while crossing the river. We reached the other side easily, and walked on to the village. We soon realized it had been worth the effort: Lubra is an extremely picturesque place, which obviously doesn't see many tourists. Another thing that makes it interesting is that it has two monasteries of Bön religion, the Tibetan spiritual tradition before Buddhism. We were starving, but there was no restaurant, so we ended up having delicious lunch in someone's home. After lunch, we continued walking towards the village of Kagbeni. This was a huge detour - more or less two sides of a triangle -, but we thought it might be worth it. Kagbeni is the closest you can get to the region of upper Mustang, a former kingdom with close ties to Tibet, which is now part of Nepal. To get further north than Kagbeni, you need to pay 500$ for a permit. On the way there, we walked across a small desert plateau, with nothing but rocks and dry bushes. It was worth the detour: Kagbeni is a lovely village with mud brick houses and narrow streets and tunnels, where the sound of playing children mingles with the bleating of sheep.
The next three days were all about trying to avoid the road. We tried as much as we could to stay on the other side of the river, and visit some villages there. The weather remained excellent. On the morning of day thirteen we walked to Jomsom - the town where the road starts - on the broad valley floor, made up mainly of loose rocks; no trees were to be seen. In the afternoon we crossed the river to avoid the road, and found ourselves back in a rocky scenery with pine tress, much like in the vicinity of Manang, on the other side of the pass. The views of mount Nilgiri (6140 m) were amazing. As would be the case in the next few days, there was no way to avoid the road on the last bit before the village where we spent the night. On day fourteen and fifteen, the vegetation got denser and denser. Day fifteen was not an easy day. We were determined to stay on the other side of the river for as long as we could. There were a couple of rivers to cross, and we were unsure about the existence or the state of bridges. After a couple of hours, we got to a broad valley with a river and no bridge. We applied the same trick as before, and I was glad we did because it was deeper and more violent than the previous one. When we got to the next village, some people kindly informed us that we couldn't go that way because some bridge had collapsed. There were several bridges on our map, so we stubbornly tried to find another one. We got lost in the forest, and tried to find our way pretty much on intuition. We understood that our sixth sense wasn't what we had hoped for when we found ourselves on top of a huge cliff. We wisely decided to go back to a village where we knew for a fact that there was a bridge, and walked the rest of the way on the road.
mount NilgiriThe next day we walked to Ghorepani, also a famous place because of nearby Poon Hill (3200 m), which offers a great view of the Annapurnas. It was a long and monotonous day. It got cloudier and cloudier as the day went on, and we arrived in Ghorepani in the rain. Again, like before the pass, I went to bed with the secret hope that everything would be fine in the morning.
Again, we were lucky. When we woke up, before dawn, the clouds had cleared, and the sky was starry. It was the 3rd of October, and the tourist season had clearly begun. We had to overtake dozens of people on our way to the hilltop. Poon Hill deserves its success, though. The Annapurnas and surrounding mountains are so close that you feel like you could almost touch them. I had my first good view of the spectacular Machhapuchhre or mount Fishtail (6998 m), called like this because of its sharp double peak. After second breakfast, we started the long walk towards the Annapurna Sanctuary. I had decided by then that I wanted to go all the way to base camp, and so did my companions. We had worked out that we could probably reach it in three days, and it seemed silly not to do it. It was a long day, but the views were beautiful. We walked through a forest which, with its lianas and moss-covered trees, looked like something out of a fairy-tale. The next day, we walked up to Himalayan Hotel (3270 m). The big star on the way to Annapurna base camp is mount Fishtail. With its sharp, jagged form, I understand why this mountain is considered holy; I couldn't take my eyes of it.
On day twenty, we walked to Annapurna base camp (ABC). It was beautifully clear, and mount Fishtail was looking stunning. I got impatient again, and left my friends behind. I didn't want to stop, I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to drink - I just wanted to get to the Sanctuary. Just like on my way to Thorong-La, I had to force myself to stop to enjoy the view and take some pictures. Mountains appeared everywhere: Gangapurna and Annapurna III at the end of the valley (to the north), and later on, as I reached Machhapuchhre base camp (MBC), Annapurna South to the west. I understood how the Annapurna Sanctuary got its name. They are all standing there, these white giants with their unlikely shapes, as if they are guarding the entrance to some mysterious paradise. At MBC, the trail makes a 90° turn to the west to go up to ABC. Since the last bit is fairly flat, base camp is visible from a distance. Still, it has a big surprise in store. Just as you reach ABC, you discover Annapurna I (8091 m), the biggest one of all, was hiding right around the corner (to the north). The base of the massive mountain is clad with three glaciers. Left of Annapurna I stands Annapurna South, which also ends in glaciers. All this forms a surreal arena of snow, rocks and ice. Between base camp and Annapurna I lies a huge plain of sand and gravel - as my Scottish friend put it, a cat wouldn't have any problem to find a place to relieve itself here. Just when I reached base camp, clouds rolled in fast. We spent the afternoon in a dense fog, which, helped by the occasional crashing sounds when gigantic blocks of ice detached from the glaciers, gave an apocalyptic dimension to the place. It seemed like a dead end, the end of the world. And then, in the late afternoon, something unexpected happened: the sky completely cleared up. We witnessed possibly the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen, which colored mount Fishtail orange, and then red. This was followed by an amazing starry sky, which we could enjoy only briefly because of the cold - after all, we were at 4130 m. The next morning, we woke up before sunrise, which was just as beautiful as sunset. The sky was perfectly clear, and we spent some time walking around there, drinking with our eyes.
Sunset on mount Fishtail
With my friends, in front of Annapurna IAnd then, it was time to go back down. I had seen everything I wanted to see, and was looking forward to the continuation of my trip, hopefully to Tibet. When we stopped relatively early that afternoon, I got a bit angry. My companions clearly didn't share my impatience, so I decided I would walk on my own pace the next day, and try to reach the end of the trek. In spite of my hurry, I did enjoy day twenty-two, the last day of walking. I saw a deer and monkeys, and was back in the land of rice terraces and typical Hindu villages. A thunderstorm caught up with me, so I walked the last hour in the pouring rain. That night I had dinner alone. I smiled at the thought that the two things I had been afraid of - rain and being alone - didn't occur once until the very last day.
When I left the Annapurna area the next day, I felt strange. For three weeks, all I had done was walking - and I had enjoyed it intensely. I had to go back to the so-called civilized world, with its cars and its crowds and its hurry. I had one final surprise: I spent the two-hour journey back to Pokhara on top of the bus. From there, I had some last incredible views of the snow-capped mountains, including mount Fishtail. I returned to Pokhara extremely satisfied with my trek, but a bit nervous about all the arrangements I had to make for my trip to Tibet.
Sorry to be a stalker, but I was wondering if you made it home for Christmas.
ReplyDelete--Katie (the American Girl from Riga)