NEPAL--The Dhaulagiri Trek Continues
The
Dhaulagiri Ordeal -- Day Fourteen
Back down, down and up, but mostly down, we passed where we had
washed our hair in a stream in the sunlight, but now there was
no sunlight, instead a light rain fell. Wongdee thought that
we were uncommonly lucky for rain at that elevation meant snow
in the
Base Camps. If we hadn't turned back when we did, we might have
been stuck at Dhaulagiri Base Camp, not able to make the pass,
but not able to turn around either due to the snow! We found
a suitable waterfall, before the bamboo ladders up the ridge,
and after a lunch with our German companions, we washed our hair,
a joyful thing. I poured tattopani, hot water, in a bowl, added
the glacial waters, and then gave the luke warm wash to Laura.
I went without the mix and froze, but with my healthy Colorado
constitution, I was none the worse.
Another long day of walking back, Dawa made a slight mistake, and in Bulgara, we stayed in another schoolyard, though this was cleaner somewhat, and far less populated. We were not happy living in this city of tents for the night, with other trekkers, porters, and strangers running about, but there was nothing we could do and it was only for the night. Dawa was so distressed he burned the popcorn that we had with soup, but we had had so many delightful camping spots, we forgave him immediately. And though we thought we had quit them earlier that morning, sorrowfully, the Germans turned up at the guest house near the tents, and we drank our first Fanta in weeks with them, though the Fanta was sold to us at an obscene price, and the innkeeper would not bargain at all, as the price was forged steel solid by the rules of supply and demand (remember, everything is carried into villages by pack animal).
We learned more about Thomas and David, and enjoyed their company until dark, and then as we left to our tents, we recognized Ram Krishna! His wound was worse, his walking slow, as it took him five days to walk what we had done in two. We consulted Wongdee, who told us that Ram Krishna had suffered from fever a few days before, and so we gave him, though unwisely, some of our general antibiotics. We reminded him he needed to wash his wound (looking more swollen and much worse) regularly or he might loose his foot. We also gave up our only tube of antibiotic cream, but Ram Krishna's needs were far more pressing than ours & we felt at such a loss to do anything for him. The unfortunate porter was trying to get to the medical clinic in Beni, but going was slow. We offered to pay for his visit at the clinic, and Wongdee agreed, but told us not to give him rupees until we saw the receipt when we were back in Beni. It seems Ram Krishna shared Babaram's love of the chang & his wages and tips from this trek were nearly all drank up. Wongdee told Ram Krishna, however, that if he drank while taking the medicine, he would certainly die! Crowded in the schoolyard, we slept fine. Laura was feeling better, and we were just three days walk from Beni.
Laura washing her hair, Nepalese style
Even Aaron needed Wongdee's help sometimes with the treacherous Nepalese bridges
The
Dhaulagiri Ordeal -- Day Fifteen
We repeated the "short day" on day fifteen, and going
down was far easier than coming up, to a certain extent. My knees
had ached so much going down the two days before, that I relented
my backpack up to Wongdee to carry, and Laura shouldered much
of our gear. We were in high spirits! The weather was pretty
again, the trail scenic and joyful, the waterfalls just as beautiful,
and we were making good time. The Germans came and went, but
turned up again for lunch, but we were happy to feed them, they
were such good company. I told Thomas that we would send him
a grocery list so he could have our favorite foods on hand when
we visited him in Europe, the following year.
But then Laura's knees, which had never bothered her in her life, began to hurt, and we slowed. Wongdee had decided on trying a trail that we had not taken on the way up because we had not known if it was open, and it proved much easier. The German's guide, the non-Sherpa, had taken it once he had gotten his bearings, and the way was clear. At one point I stopped to use the natural toilet, got a little lost in trying to catch up, nearly was eaten by a spider, and ended up walking down a river that I had mistaken for a trail. Wongdee and Laura missed me, and then in their ensuing race to find me, Laura slipped and fell, but the damage was only minor: to her elbow and to the backs of her already filthy travelling pants.
That night
we stopped to camp in a field that commanded a glorious view
of the valley, showing us the other side of the river where we
had walked on our first week up. I bathed in a nearby stream,
Laura put her knees in the cold water to ice them, and then we
had tea with the Germans. As camp was set up, a local woman was
still threshing millet, watching as the tents went up. Thomas
offered to buy a chicken for our meal, and a rooster was brought,
and we pet our dinner before eating it, and I thanked him for
giving up his life for our final night of camping. How sad we
were that we would all part company the next day, and we cried
out often, ke gar ne! Wongdee and the Germans would leave us
for Beni, speeding along so that the Germans could finally find
some comfort and
that Wongdee could meet his deadline. A local boy came and we
watched him, under flashlight, kneel down upon the rooster and
cut its throat, and all save me, thought that he had not done
it quick enough. On my part, killing is a bad business no matter
how it is done, but the chicken curry we later had was glorious.
Worth the pain of the unlucky rooster? Of course not, but it
was delicious nonetheless.
Our last meal was wonderful, we ate out under the night sky, and then much to our delight, local girls & boys came to sing and dance and drum for us in return for a few rupees. They said that it was for their school, but Wongdee had his suspicions, as the girls knew only every other word to their songs and were finally aided in their dancing and singing by the porters. "We don't give them very much" he said softly, smiling. We sang merrily along in words we didn't know, and even took our turn dancing as Dawa drummed! A cook, a porter, now our guide, and then he surprised us further by playing the drum deftly. The girls were as shy and giggly as girls could be, and they had numerous costume changes before each dance. Laura said that she felt like she was in a distant relative's parlor as their eleven year old daughters performed a play for us.
But again, I had the sensation that my mind was too dull a thing to capture that moment as full as I would have wanted it. It would all end, and my memory would soon fade. We went to bed in such high spirits, happy that our last evening was so special, sad that it was over except for two days of walking and a night in a Darbang teahouse. As we lay in the darkness, Laura admitted that we probably would not have had our local terrace field troupe on the Annapurna trail. They had said it was only a little harder than Annapurna, but they had said, of course, that it would be a lot better. And I think, they were right on that last part, but not, by any stretch of the imagination, on the first.
The amazing views from the trail
I'm lost, take me back to the Nepal home page!