Experience: Trekking in the Himalayas

The story of my trekking on the Nepali Himalayas, just like so many of the amazing things that have happened to me during my journey, starts with a dramatic twist in my travel plans. Initially, my trip to Nepal was supposed to be mainstream enough: go there, see some temples, check out Kathmandu and some beautiful stupas, visit Lumbini, Buddha’s birthplace, and that’s it. Nice and smooth. However, the goddess of indie travel had something else in mind for me, and her plans were in action even before I entered Nepal.

On February 11^th, my friend Giselle and I, the only survivors from the 10-peoplegroup that left Kolkata on Jan 24^th, took a train from New Delhi to Gorakhpur, meaning to cross the border into Nepal. On that train I have met a very friendly American couple, Sarah and David, and we have quickly warmed up to each other during the 16-hour ride. After crossing the border, we said our goodbyes to them, as we were headed to Kathmandu, and they were going to the Chitwa National Park elsewhere in Nepal.

After some days in Kathmandu, Giselle and I were walking on the street trying to find the correct bus stop to take a ride to Bhaktapur, a nearby city, when we heard a distinct “HEY!”. David and Sarah were having lunch in a restaurant we were passing in front of. It was a happy coincidence, and there I learned they were going trekking on some Himalayan trails in two days, and they kindly invited me in. Lucky me.

On the following day, I accompanied Sarah and David to a shop where they were going to buy some gear they needed, and right there on the spot I made up my mind to join them. I bought a synthetic T-shirt and a shirt, two trekking poles, a fleece jacket, cargo pants, rain jacket and pants, warm underpants, a hat, backpack cover, 3 pairs of socks, a Nalgene water bottle, all for a little over 115 dollars. I also rented a heavy jacket and a sleeping bag, and I was good to go.

The next sunrise found me and Giselle saying our goodbyes – after almost a month travelling together. I met David and Sarah and we took the bus to Shyafru Bensi, a little town at 1,500m high, just at the beginning of the Langtang Trail, our trekking route of choice. The bus ride was nightmarish: the only seats available were on the back of the bus, the bumpiest, least comfortable place in a non-comfortable-at-all bus. We thought we would die a thousand times: the Nepali drivers take no prisoners and the roads are narrow, bumpy, with endless abysses inviting us to a horrible death at every turn. I have made a little video , about it, though it does not convey the full atmosphere of the situation:

Luckily, the way was also beautiful, and the toilet breaks had an amazing scenery:

Do you have that view from your bus?

Pee-pee break

We reached a rainy Shyafru Bensi already battered up, and the trek had not even started! After dinner, we went over our trekking plans again at the hotel, and went to sleep hoping for clear skies and dreaming with the heights.

The War Room

On the next morning, we packed our things tight, stretched our trekking poles, and hit the trail. The Langtang Trail, named after the biggest village on the mountain, stretches all the way from Shyafru Bensi, at 1,500m, to Kianjin Gumba, at 4,000m, roughly following a big river, and combines spots of lush green and steep rocky stairways with large extents of snow trails and open plains surrounded by the beautiful snowy peaks of the Himalayas.

The first day was great: a perfect weather found us well-rested, energized and as excited as ever. We were greeted by a beautiful river and crossed some small villages and sturdy metal bridges covered with the ubiquitous multicolored prayer flags of the Tibetan Buddhists.

The beginning

The Langtang River

First village

After four hours trekking, we arrived at the first big teahouse, Bamboo Lodge, where we had lunch and some well-deserved rest.

And I thought I was tired by then...

First stop!

We were already very tired, and briefly considered spending the night there. However, as Bamboo Lodge was still halfway the distance we had intended to cover in the first day (first lesson learned: it is so much easier to plan for big treks from your hotel bed than with a 30kg backpack on your shoulders), we decided to put a little extra effort into it and go at least until the next teahouse, at Rimche. At Bamboo I also decided I was carrying too much weight (second lesson learned: your perception of what is essential to carry with you changes dramatically after having to carry those perceptions on your back uphill for six hours). I took off a good 5kg of trash from my luggage and the lodge’s owner kindly let me leave it all there to retrieve on my way back. After two more hours, we finally arrived at Rimche, where I almost immediately fell asleep.

Ready for more!

We woke up before the sun was up the next day and set out for the next leg in our journey.  The trail started getting more and more rough, but the scenery also grew more beautiful, with us getting closer and closer to the beautiful mountains ahead.

Halfway up!

At some points the trail was little more than a narrow strip separating as steep rock from the abyss at our side, and sometimes the teahouses on the way were little more than a single building defiantly sitting in the middle of the immensity of the valley. For me, all these impressions added up to create a surreal sense of reality, as if all of that was a particularly long dream.

At that point I was already sufficiently awe-struck to make this video (my ramblings are in Portuguese, sorry).

Up we went, uneventfully reaching our next goal: the teahouse called Hotel Peaceful in Chianki, where our friend Norbuk, the owner, was more than happy to provide us with his hospitality and 100-rupee tea cups.

In the mountain, especially at high altitudes, resources are scarce, and almost nothing gets wasted. The mountain people usually have Yaks (a beast resembling a small, hairy cow) for milk and fur – not for meat, though, because Tibetan Buddhists are not allowed to kill animals (if a Yak dies of an accident, however, it’s barbecue time!). The Yak dung is collected, dried, and then used as fuel, along with firewood, for the stoves that warm the chilling nights. We had never been so happy to see a big pile of dung before.

Yak dung for everybody!

On the third day of ascent, the world turned white. The trail became snow-ridden, the ground slippery, and the snowy peaks we used to admire from a distance now surrounded us from all sides.

And then, after some more hours of battling the knee-deep snow, we finally reached Kianjin Gumba, at 4000m high, our last inhabited stop.

Mighty Kianjin Gumba

In Kianjin Gumba, the rest of the day was devoted to resting, warming up, and being beautiful.

Please don't make me move...

In the morning of the fourth day we set out to climb the Kiang Ri, a “small” (at 4,500m, more than half an Everest, it was the smallest and most accessible peak around, just behind the village) friendly ice-covered rock. The climb was not very difficult, but it was tiresome. Personally, as I had never seen snow before this trip, I had a lot of trouble with the white crap: I would slip uncountable times, relying on my trekking poles to avoid falling and rolling down the slope to a horrible death.

Showing the mountain who's boss

And then, three hours later, we finally reached the top, finding an exhilarating view of the valley around us, the glacier, and the surrounding peaks and mountains.

King of the hill

A bit of national pride

Lookin' good.

The valley of Kianjin Gumba

See the village down there?

We spent some time there, and I was surprised to know, on our way back, thar David had proposed to Sarah, at the very top of the mountain. How sweet is that??

The happy couple

So we started our way down. The next three hours were the only part of the trek in which I felt genuinely afraid for my safety. The morning sun had half-melted the snow, making it ten times more slippery, and giving up more easily to our weight. To a greenhorn in both climbing AND dealing with snow such as me, that was serious trouble. Early into the descent, I slipped, fell to my butt and started sliding down the slope uncontrollably. Luckily I was able to reflexively stick my trekking poles in the ice and coming to a halt, but one of my trekking poles paid the price with its life: it was broken for good.

Ouch!

After that, without the trekking poles to rely upon, I started a careful descent on my own hands and legs. I took off my gloves for an extra grip, even though it was freezing cold, and decided to avoid the snow altogether, trying instead to go from rock to rock, bush to bush, even if that meant going a longer way. To the hell with my palms (which were really scratched) and my boots (which suffered their lot in silent agreement) – at the moment, I just cared about reaching the village alive and in one piece. Shaky and relieved, and in no mood for pictures, I finally arrived at our lodge, celebrating my success with a big belly-slide on the snow. Afterwards, I quickly found my way to food and bed, and slept as a rock.

On the next morning, it was time to say goodbye to our host, Kianjin Gumba, and start our long descent.

Kianjin Gumba from our doorstep

The way down was way faster and less tiresome, but it was no easier than the way up: our bodies were already tired from the exertion of the last four days, and going down is much harder on your knees and shoulders. Despite that, we made our way to Shyafru Bensi in only two days (as opposite to the three it took us to go up), in two 6-hour hikes. The last two hours were particularly tiresome: on top of being exhausted from all the trekking, the extra weight I had left at Bamboo Lodge really made me miserable until reaching our hotel room in Shyafru. Miserable, but happy as a little kid with a new Lego set. On his birthday. With cake. And a puppy.

Trekking on the Himalayas was an once-in-a-lifetime experience, one that will be engraved in mind for the rest of my life. It is as much a journey into oneself as it is a physical feat, as it gives you plenty of time to think and reflect on your life, combined with trance-like periods of intense concentration on the task at hand, as there are times in which a simple mistake can be fatal. I really feel like I have emerged as new being after this experience, and I will be forever grateful to Sarah and David for taking me along and offering me guidance, advice, and friendship.

Namaste!

Destination: Varanasi

On January 24th, after almost two months living in Kolkata, I finally set foot to begin my wandering journey throughout India, and beyond. My initial plan was to go south from Kolkata following the eastern coast towards Chennai , spend some time in South India exploring Kerala and visiting Bangalore, Hyderabad and other cities, and the go north through the western coast to get to know Goa, Mumbai (Bombay), up to the state of Rajasthan and the major attractions of North India. However, since some of my dear friends were going west through some of the major spots in the country, I decided to join them and do my intended route backwards.

The gang at the Varanasi station

So, our first stop was Varanasi. This has a unique appeal to it: Varanasi is the most sacred city to Hinduism, as Hindus believe that dying there liberates the soul from the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. This is also one of the oldest continually inhabited spots on Earth, with people living here since well into the 3rd millennium BC. As such, most of the city’s life revolves around the ghats, which are really nothing more than certain locations to access the river Ganges, the holy river of India. In Varanasi they are mostly stone stairways that descend into the river proper, allowing people to take their baths or do whatever holy thing they want to.

At first, only me and Ana were planning to go there, but as word of our upcoming trip got around in the vibrant foreigners’ circle of Kolkata, a lot of our friends decided to join us, and nothing less than 10 people got into the 16-hour train ride to the holy city. Here you can see part of the gang doing what travelers in India invariably do lots of: waiting for the train.

We arrived at Varanasi in the morning, and went directly to Alka Hotel, where Ana had made reservations for us. Thumbs up for her:  the hotel was literally at the margin of the Ganges, on top of a high hill, so we had an astonishing view of the river, the ghats and their surroundings from there.

The view from our hotel balcony

The view from our hotel balcony

Thief? Who? Me?

While we were settling on our room, we had an unexpected visitor: this monkey unceremoniously entered our room and started looking for whatever-monkeys-are-fond-of within our things! We had to shoo him away, but not before taking some pictures of the audacious thing. While non-existent in Kolkata, huge populations of monkeys inhabit many cities in India, and they have been a more than common sight everywhere I have been to.

After eating something, we took a walk on the ghats, just following the river and looking around. The ghats are all named – some of them are simple and used just for ritual baths, such as the one you can see in the picture- Hindus believe that taking a bath in the Ganges cleans all the bad karma accumulated over the person’s life, so a lot of people do that despite the stink and heavy pollution of the waters. Other ghats are elaborate, with huge platforms where religious ceremonies, weddings and other gatherings can be held. In one of these a wedding was happening, with a lot of music, cheering and dancing.

Ritual bath at the Ganges

Normal life at the ghats

The Mamandir Ghat

Ana and Giselle, two of the Brazilians (who else?) in the group started dancing like crazy in the middle of the crowd, being led by a kind old lady who afterwards even more kindly demanded some rupees for her trouble.

Dance, dance, dance!

A wedding party

You can see mostly anything along the ghats: people bathing, praying, chanting, dancing, washing clothes and dishes, offering flowers and floating candles, taking boat rides, and selling every little thing you might need to do any of the above. You can even find clothed goats.

Fashion goats

A man saying his morning prayers at riverside

Bear hug

After our long walk, we returned to the hotel to rest for a while and have some beers (thanks God – or Gods – that beer is vegetarian), while waiting for our anxiously anticipated evening boat ride on the Ganges.

Beers at the hotel's restaurant

We took our boat, and were promptly approached by some little girls selling flower-like floating candles for us to offer the river – 30 rupees, sir! Ok, ok, 20 rupees. No? Okaaaay, 10-rupees for you, sir! – these girls simply hop from boat to boat in the middle of the river charming the tourists into buying their flowers. They are very successful in doing that.

Us the the little floating candle girl

Taking the evening boat ride into the Ganges is really some sort of magical experience. The whole atmosphere of the city imbues mysticism into everything.  There is a distinct fog that makes everything looks a little hazy and unreal, and the floating candles and colorful ceremonies at the ghats all add up to that effect. You can find a little video I’ve made about that moment below:

Evening time at the Ganges

Our boat took us to two different places along the river: one was a ghat devoted to burning corpses (more on them later), to which we could neither take pictures nor get too close to, and a ceremonial ghat where a sort of purification ritual was happening. It is quite a sight – hundreds of boats cuddling together near the margins, hundreds of people on the ghat watching the ceremony, and an assault of colors and sounds to your senses. We could almost forget the swarm of mosquitoes enveloping us. Almost.

Purification ceremony

A thousand boats and a billion mosquitoes

Tired and overwhelmed, we came back to the hotel, and after resting a bit we went through the crazy maze of dark alleys the surround Varanasi’s ghats to find something to eat. After some bad service and worse food, we came back to the hotel around 11.pm. Then, a wild idea occurred to us.

Two of the many ghats in Varanasi are devoted solely for the ritual cremation of bodies, one of which is much bigger and more traditional. Somebody in our groups said: “what if we went there RIGHT NOW?”. Since not many sensible people even get to India in the first place, there we were – almost midnight, walking through the deserted ghats towards the main cremation place, in an hour when no tourists are around.

So we finally got to see the real thing up close. It’s kind of hard to describe exactly what was it like to be there in the middle of the cremation ghat. At first, it was pretty clear that a lot of people didn’t want us around there – these are the last rites for their loved ones, after all, and nobody wants nosy tourists fussing around that. However, since it became clear that we were demonstrating proper respect and were not taking pictures, people (especially those interested in a generous tip) warmed up to us and showed us around.

A lot of old and sick people from all around India take a last trip to Varanasi, in the hopes of dying in the sacred city. These people stay at common houses, just waiting for death to come and surviving on the donations of pilgrims. We were offered to visit one of those, but declined out of the fear of unknown diseases there and to avoid intruding too much.

The smoke and smell of the cremation ghat is overwhelming:  burnt wood, burnt bodies and more than a few notes of putrefaction from bodies taken from too far away to be burned here. The pyres (which are just big bonfires open to view, nothing like the clean aseptic procedure of western cremations) at that ghat have been continually lit up and cremating bodies for 3,500 years, day or night, rain or clear, warm or cold. After cremation, the ashes are thrown on the Ganges. Everybody is cremated, except for pregnant women, children and holy men, who are considered to be already pure and do not need purification through fire. In these cases, the whole body is thrown into the river. There are a lot of stories of many a tourist that bumped into floating bodies during their boat rides.

Of course, we did not take any photos, but we have been able to record a very short video of some of the pyres while concealing the camera:

After that we just went straight back to the hotel, where we had to clap and shout for people to open up the doors for us (most hotels close at 10 p.m. in Varanasi). On the morning after, after doing some not-really-worthwhile walking tour around some city temples, we took our train towards our next stop, Agra, and its worldwide famous jewel – the Taj Mahal.

Varanasi is one of the places where you can really feel all the exuberance of Hinduism as a living religion, and really take a glimpse of the pulsing heart of India’s mysticism. An unforgettable experience.