Nepal Trek

A Walk in the Clouds

Trekking the Himalayas of Nepal

by Avner Ofer

There I was in Kathmandu, trying without much success to buy bus tickets to Dhunche, the starting point for the Lantang trek. "Sorry, it is the Tika festival now, no busses to Dhunche," was the response I got. So, once again by fortune, fate or just pure necessity, my plans were changed. I decided to start the trek from a more accessible area, which turned out to be a smart choice. Eighteen days I spent in the Himalayan range and I yearn to return.

The first few days involved hiking up through the Halambu valley. This region is characterized by small villages involved in small-scale farming. The people I stayed with, usually in a small guesthouse, were friendly and hospitable. The valley was definitely beautiful, but the inciting white peaks in the distance were irresistible. With every step I got closer to those majestic menacing figures, my heart pounded harder (maybe it was the altitude).

Gosainkund was the next region. To reach these somewhat frozen lakes I climbed over the Laurebinayak pass at 15,200 feet. After the long, hard climb I was rewarded with spectacular views of the Himalayas spanning the horizon and deep blue lakes dotting the area. I spent a day at the lakes and continued to Laurebinayak. This tiny rest area had only a few small shacks to house trekkers, but offered the most spectacular sunset and sunrise I have ever witnessed.

From there I crossed over to the Lantang valley. Following the Lantang Khola (Lantang river) up the valley towards the Lantang range took me a few days. Along the way, small villages and guesthouses catered weary trekers, and where, for a few rupees, I spent the nights and enjoyed good food.

Highlighting the trek, though, was Kyangching Ghyang, the last village I reached in the valley. At a height of 10,000feet, it is far removed from everywhere. Farther up the valleys are limited and remote villages less frequented by trekkers. I spent three days up at Kyangching and it was remarkable.

I stayed in a lodge overlooking the village. There was one large room with huge windows in a semi circle where everyone stayed. The beds lined the semi circle wall, creating a large dormitory. In the middle of the room was a large fire place and scattered tables around it. The atmosphere of the place, with its decor and the surrounding snow-covered mountains, added to the enjoyment of my stay.

The following day I decided to go by myself to climb what seemed like a near-by mountain. The locals offered directions and some details. The mountain is known as Tserko Yala and stands at 16,500 feet above sea level.

I followed the trail up the valley, waded through blue cream colored streams created by melted glacier water, passed herds of yaks and saw several horses roaming free on the hills. Following the directions I was given at the village, I found myself on a narrow and very steep trail climbing up the mountain. For a few hours I climbed the trail breathing harder with the increase in elevation.

Howling winds accompanied me on the way up, as well as magnificent views of the glacier-covered mountains. I was anxious to sit atop the mountain and to stare at nature's creations. However, it took longer than expected and much effort to gain those views.

Apparently the directions I was given included a short cut. Rather than directing me to the trail that circles the mountain and gradually ascends it, I discovered what the locals call the direct route. A steep heap of boulders at the end of the trail had to be negotiated before reaching the near-by peak. This obstacle would be hard to maneuver at sea level, let alone at 16,000 feet. Thus, after every three steps and conquering only one or two boulders my legs would turn to jelly and give way. For almost an hour I took three steps, recuperated for a few minutes and took a few more steps. It seemed I entered into a trance state. All that went through my mind was the peak. All I wanted to do was reach the flat top of the mountain and rest. That kept me pushing.

Finally, quite exhausted I maneuvered over the last boulder and had reached the clouds. The peak was bare. There was no snow on the top, rather the peak was covered with alpine grass with protruding rocks. A pile of rocks at the center of the rounded peak held in place the traditional Buddhist prayer flags. Twenty-foot-tall poles covered with white flags stood proudly on the peak and from them multi-colored flags blew forcefully in the cold wind. I sat down to gain my breath and to absorb all the beauty around me.

The serenity of the place was extraordinary. I was surrounded by mountains covered with glaciers and snow. Billowing clouds, born from the mountain tops, grew bigger and brighter as the sun grew stronger. They seemed within reach of my extended arms. Waterfalls from the melting glaciers flowed off the steep mountain faces, joining the glittering streams meandering down in the valley floor. Peaks over 20,000 feet high loomed around me. The sight was awesome.

An hour or two passed as I immersed in this natural beauty and powerful sights. The only other visitor was a curious raven that came to examine who was invading its territory. Finally, as the sun crawled nearer to the western horizon, I tore myself from this mystical spot and headed back.

Instead of returning through the boulder obstacle course, I decided to find an easier way down. There was no apparent trail, so I started down the mountain in the direction of the trail I came up. The terrain became steeper and steeper until all I was able, or forced, to do was to slide down the mountain. After what seemed hours, I finally connected with the trail. I followed the trail to the river below and walked along-side its sparkling water all the way back to the village.

Just as the last rays made their way over the Himalayan peaks I reached the guesthouse exhausted.

A few days later I was back in the crowded, noisy and polluted city of Kathmandu, a world apart from the near-by peaks.

If ever I feel constrained by the civilized world I imagine myself up on Tserko Yala, with the wind blowing in my ears and the white shimmering mountains standing eternally in their awesome power.

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