NEPAL--The Dhaulagiri Trek Continues

The Dhaulagiri Ordeal -- Day Two
We awoke, dried our clothes which were soaked by the terrifying bus ride in the storm, and we waited for Dawa Sherpa, our cook, to bring the necessary materials one needs to trek. Wongdee spent the morning trying to find porters, but it was difficult, since it was during the Dashain festival. We had a lunch at the Hotel Yeti, a very nice hotel in Beni, waiting
for Wongdee and Dawa, and we thought we might have to stay another night. Laura played with the daughter of the hotel owner, a daughter he adopted when the unfortunate child's parents left her, one take by death, the other by meanness. I read a very old Time magazine that predicted the end of the world brought about by the tumble the stock market took in April of 2000. But at 2:00, with the world still ticking along despite the low NASDAQ numbers, Wongdee returned and we headed out!

The walk was serene, the path wide, and we were seldom set upon by children all asking to "give me your pen!" With no pens to give, we walked on, saw spiders the size of our fists, and after three hours stopped in Tattopani, which means "hot water" (they have natural hot springs in the village). We were following an Austrian group, a Swiss Italian group, and some others, and since the regular camping was full, we went down and camped by the river. It was wonderful! We bathed in the river as the porters set up our tents, and then we had a delicious dinner. Dawa was a magician, summoning forth the finest cuisine from the kerosene and supplies which the porters lugged up and down the mountains! Wongdee joined us for dinner in the dining tent (his tent he later used to sleep in), and we felt like royalty! After dinner, Wongdee would shout, "Dawa, shido!" which meant we were finished! After dessert, we each used the toilet tent that was set up for us, and we fell asleep, snug in our tent! Dhaulagiri, it seemed, might be like Annapurna after all, but better for Dawa's arts and Wongdee's kindness!

Our party included the following people:
Wongdee Sherpa -- Guide Extraordinaire!
Dawa Sherpa -- Cook (but then he also carried a basket, so he was cook and porter, later he guided us the rest of the way, so he was cook, porter, and guide!)
Priam Rye -- Of a different caste than the sherpas, he was porter and kitchen boy, and he brought us tea in the morning, promptly (on most days), at six a.m!
Chareen Sherpa -- Porter and kitchen boy (and Wongdee's brother-in-law!) He was young and full of smiles, but he found his basket heavy, and was uncertain whether or not he wanted to persue a career in trekking. He was a hit with the girls, however, and they stopped by our camp to flirt with him often. Wongdee protected Chareen's status by referring to him not as a relative as the result of marriage, but simply as his brother.
Mr. Double, a.ka. Babaram -- Babaram offered to carry double his normal weight if he were paid double his wage, and since porters were scarce, Wongdee agreed. However, it turned out Babaram could also drink more than twice as much as other porters, and problems ensued! We found other guides to help him with his load and so he lost his unique sobriquet.
Ram Krishna -- Porter (At the time, we did not see the huge wond on his foot until more than a week later, or else we might have saved him some pain and trouble)
Mr. Old -- Porter (he left us four days later)
Mr. Tall -- Porter (he left us six days later)

The foot, cow, donkey & goat traffic only streets on the beginings of our trek

The Dhaulagiri Ordeal -- Day Three
Our first day of real walking started out with a beautiful sunrise! We were in a river valley, camped on the flood plain, at at 6am, over tea, we watched the sun slowly redden the green mountains around us. After tea, we were given a big bowl of hot water to wash up our faces & hands in, and then we packed our backpacks, one for me to carry, the other for Babaram (Mr. Double at the time). After we were packed, a tarp was laid out on the grass, we were given hot chocolate, coffee, and more tea, and then breakfast! After that, around eight, we started walking. The path followed the river, but unlike Colorado and California, the canyons were quite sharp, and the trail was cut into the side of the mountain. At one point, we had to cling to the edge, and I thought to myself, "Good heavens, the trail is exciting." Little, how very little, did I know! Wet clothes we hung from my backpack, and so walked a living laundry line, until we stopped at 11:00 for lunch. We were still full from breakfast, but we stopped in front of a little house by the river, and the kids came out, asking for pens, money, sweets. I learned to say, Moi lai gollum china, a useful phrase which meant, "I do not have a pen with me." Followed by, ke gar ne, what can I do, it was effective in running the various guantlets of children. We ate lunch in their front yard, the children gathered to watch us, and it was rather uncomfortable. At the end of our meal, an old woman came to beg, but we were off and walking.

After the two hour lunch, we strode through a larger town, nicer than Beni, with stones along the street and concrete drainage to the side of the road. Chickens (kukura), dogs (kukurr), buffalos (male: ranga, female: boyishi), cows (gai), bulls (barro), ducks, children and townspeople littered our path, but it was a joy to see such rustic sites. In the morning, the women had wetted the red clay of the floors and walls, and swept out the night's dust, and by the afternoon, people were busy with their rural duties, or taking pleasures in the Dashain festivals. We saw a wedding with drums and trumpets along the path, and before long, we stopped in Darbang for the night. We had walked a mere five hours! How much like Annapurna, we laughed and laughed!

Oh Darbang, you desolate, desolate place. Darbang of the barking dogs, Darbang of the stiking fields, Darbang of the midnight drummers, Darbang of "give me your pen!" We were not pleased with the village of Darbang and you'll soon read why! We spoke with the Austrians, a fresh faced, healthy group, who had arrived in Darbang hours before us, and had been preparing for Dhaulagiri for months. We marveled at the Swiss Italians who never stopped for lunch but marched ahead like fire ants, and we passed hellos to the French contingent who sat in chairs in their dining tent like Rajahs.

We then went to bathe in the river, but on our way to our bath, we passed the boulders on the other the side of the river the locals used as their toilet, but we were soon to get used to that. After our bath, we returned to the school yard where we were to camp. School yard indeed, for most of the time it was another local toilet, and I saw a small girl squat in front of us to urinate on the dirt. Good heavens! We sat on our tarp, I thought of writing in my journal, but then at the mere sight of a pen, I would have been mobbed! I hid our pens deep in the tent. When we were given our daily evening tea, which we soon changed into hot chocolate, Chareen came to chase the children away from us, and stood guard, a veritable sentry, against the ragamuffins. But it was their playground, and they clustered around the festival swing, a momumental structure made of tall bamboo struts and a coarse, thick rope, when they were not pestering Chareen in the attempt to pester us.

We did feel like royalty, but royalty brought low! The ground was littered with human excrement, and again, we were not pleased. We ate and voiced our misgivings to Wongdee, and we soon found out the treking company had not told him that we wanted freedom and flexibility with our trek: we wanted to camp outside of villages, and we wanted to walk our own pace. He had not known this, and he had not brought an extra tent for the porters, and so we had to stay near a village where they could use the local inn (not only for sleeping and their constant dreary meals of Dal Baht, but also to douse
themselves with Chang, Tongba, and Rakshi, [homemade alcohols of various types]). Wongdee allayed our fears by saying that he would do what he could, and what he
later did proved to be superhuman!

As we laid down in our tent, grateful when the wind changed, we were about to sleep when drumming and singing started! We lay there, trying to sleep, annoyed and exhausted, but then I figured I might was well see the local color, I would probably be in Nepal only once. So I left the tent, Laura joined me, and we watched a troupe of players sing, and Wongdee told us that they had come to collect money for the school, but they had come too late. Along with the other guides, Wongdee paid them into silence, and so again we laid down to sleep. At midnight the dogs of Darbang decided to raise up their canine voices into song, and that brought us wide awake, and two dogs, an hour later, continued
the song as a duet. Laura, unslept, went out to do battle but it was too dark to see anything. The dogs finally relented,and we slept fitfully until the morning, til our 6am wakeup call.

Just a few of the many adorable children we met along the way

The river we walked next to for most of the trek

The wedding, bride and groom sit in front of their many gifts

The wedding musicians

The swing used by the children during festival. This one is in Beni, but they all look the same

More, more, more, onto Day Four