Leaving the lodge in Besisahar, they told us that the buses
to Bhulbhule ran every 30min. The plan was to take the 30min bus and skip the
2hr/ 9km road walk and start our trek in Bhulbhule. At the bus ‘stage’,
basically a big flat area beside the road with a few shacks, they said that the
next bus to Bhulbhule was leading in 1.5 hrs and the bus to Syange (2hr/ 25km
ride) was leaving in 30min. Luckily we passed on both options and started our
trek there, because not a single bus passed us that day!
I saw an animal on the trail that I first thought was a
monkey because of its bushy tail, but when I saw it again I thought it looked
more like a fox crosses with a mongoose. It had a black hind end and big bushy
tail, with a red/orange front half and a small head & eyes. It turns out
that I spotted the rare red panda! Unfortunately, Wendy did not get a glimpse.
A porter coming back down the trail carrying a guy on his
back passed us without a namaste. His passenger had a big head wound wrapped in
gauze. We later guessed that the guy was one of the laborers working on the
road, but who knows. It just reinforced to us how every single thing gets in or
out of the mountain range on someone’s back.
We had a nice but unremarkable lunch at the ‘Peace Love
Café’ in Ngadi Bazaar, where marijuana was growing decoratively in the gardens
and in pots around the picnic tables.
The trek from lunch at Ngadi Bazaar to Bahundanda gave us
our first taste of climbing, as we climbed 420m (1400ft) in only 4km
(2.5miles). It was tough with our heavy packs and it started drizzling about
45min outside of Bahundanda. We wanted to push on to Ghermu, but were talked
out of it by locals due to the steep & slippery decent leading out of Bahundanda.
We stayed in a guesthouse Wendy picked out (we took turns
picking our stopover points/ teahouses, with varying amounts of success). It
had super narrow spiral stairs leading up to the bedroom & dungeon steps
leading down to the basement where the toilet and shower were. The basement
reminded us of my basement in Conshohocken, both in ceiling height and odor, although
the lighting was worse… The power went out about 20min after the lodge owner
turned on the hot water heater, so we had ice cold showers in the basement. We
wandered around a bit before dinner so I could buy a pair of Nepalese sandals
to air out my tired feet.
 |
| That's not ALL coriander! |
Today we mostly walked
on the road. It rained on us the last hour. We stopped for lunch at a place
next to the river with a garden. We were herded into it by a lady who seemed a
little looney-toons. As we left, we noticed some pot seedlings in the garden.
Maybe not looney toonies, rather high as a kite. Called Peace Love Guest
House.
We passed an old man
who had a wooden seat hanging down his back strapped around his forehead. He
was carrying a man sitting on this seat and draped over his shoulders. The man
was unconscious and had a terrible head wound.
The trail follows a
river and there are many steel cable suspension bridges that connect villages
on opposite sides of the river. The trail goes across 2 or 3 times each day.
The bridges sway and ripple, but seem safe. Looking down at the river 100 ft
below makes me a bit dizzy. What is so interesting is that every bridge has yak
poo sprinkled across it. Given that this is basically a 200ft cattle grate,
this amazes me. I hope to see a yak crossing one. |
| 200ft cattle grate |
Since it was raining
and our packs were way too heavy, we threw in the towel one town before our
planned destination. In Bahundanda, we landed in our guesthouse by accident.
All of a sudden, the rain got more serious and we dashed under the nearest overhang.
This happened to be a small establishment with rooms. The room was nicer than
where we stayed in Besisahar, but the staircase leading to the rooms on the
second floor was the narrowest set of spiral stairs I have ever seen. It was so
narrow that we couldn’t walk up them with our packs on. We had to take the
packs off and pass them sideways up the stairs to someone leaning dangerously
downhill to haul it up. This was made more difficult by the fact that every
step was a different depth.
The proprietress
assured us that we could have a hot shower, but our hopes were dashed when the
power was cut and the water in the electric hot water heater barely registered
lukewarm. We took very cursory showers then sat on the tiny balcony and watched
the rain while we sipped whiskey and coke.
After dinner, I purged
my pack of anything that I thought I might not need. My hip bones were bruised
and tender to the touch – I couldn’t face strapping the pack on again the next
day. I was ruthless—my purse, cotton tees, khaki pants, shawl, Afrin, Patrick’s
deodorant, nail clippers – all tossed. I even ripped my 1000 page novel right
down the spine – 200 pages came with me and 800 pages stayed in Bahundanda.
Patrick refused to get
rid of anything from his pack. He just couldn’t toss it. It goes against his
very genetics. I reminded him that it would be easier to replace any item
in that pack than replace his knees.
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