Day 2-3

Ngadi-Srichaur-Dharapani

It rained during the night – a gentle noise that softened the roar of the river below our ramshackle little inn and also put an end to the regular small animal expeditions across my ceiling. We downed a hearty breakfast and then set off in a light drizzle.

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The day was spent mostly climbing. The way was rocky, steep at times and slippery with the rain, but we exceeded our guide Bhagawati’s expectations, taking our late morning tea perched above the terraced rice fields surrounding Bahundanda which had been our projected lunch stop. Instead, we later lunched beside a lovely waterfall after climbing further on. Our previous jaunty pace allowed for a leisurely meal and extended tea break, so I took the opportunity to begin a short sketch. Perched on the steps overlooking the trail, taking in the view and the myriad passersby – trekkers and lines of ponies carrying goods to neighbouring villages – strains of music washed over me. Although I was wrapped up in my drawing and missed the lead-in, I recall it began with singing and then Vishnu, a porter, brought out his flute. Someone else – Patrick? – tried the flute too, I think. In any case, there was a great exchange of laughter and song and the beginnings of how music was to knit our disparate group together. The next day would find Vishnu engaged in a Nepali ‘dance-off’ with a young traveler during one of our rest stops.

We had entered the predominantly Buddhist area of Nepal, and from here the architecture became increasingly Tibetan in influence. We passed through the first of many stone gateways housing prayer wheels.

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Our afternoon hike was a gentle rise and fall ending with a rickety suspension bridge which took us directly onto the flag-stoned main street of Syange and then on to Srichaur and the Hiker’s Guest House: a tiny enclave painted in a jumble of unlikely hues. We were barely settled in before the rain began in earnest. We huddled in the dining hall over hot drinks and spent the afternoon pouring over the map, catching up on journals, showers and laundry.

The next day dawned overcast but was soon gloriously sunny. The Marsyangdi valley had closed to a narrow canyon from the sides of which our route was carved. Another day of climbing; I was surprised how quickly we gained height, leaving the valley floor and soon hiking near the crest of the surrounding hills. We’d start each day dressed for the early morning weather and by the time we’d warmed up and stopped to take our jackets off, our previous night’s lodging would already seem far below.

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We passed through numerous villages, walking sometimes on the road, sometimes on the trail, although the two were hard to tell apart at times. We criss-crossed the gorge on the now familiar suspension bridges, at one point stopping in disbelief to watch a bus and a transport truck pass each other on the alarmingly narrow road across from us. Not surprisingly, all the passengers got off the bus before the maneuver.

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Look closely…yes, that is a road winding around that outcrop! The tiny orange spot to right of centre is a vehicle and there’s a white one coming around the curve at the left…

Lunchtime found us at Tal and another gaily painted establishment. Here the valley opened and the river snaked through a gravelly flat plain. We were again ahead of schedule and Bhagawati decided we would carry on to Dharapani for the night. The clouds closed over once more and we walked in a light drizzle, but the afternoon’s trail was easier and we were soon at our night’s accommodation at the Heaven Guest Hotel. That laryngitis I’d started out with had developed into a full-on cold, so it was heaven indeed when the promised hot shower actually hit the lovely temperature of 42C!

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A last thought to ponder: throughout the day we occasionally glimpsed snow-covered peaks above us. Each time the clouds parted to reveal a snowy face we would eagerly enquire: which mountain were we seeing? Our guides patiently explained that the clouds were still concealing the mountains, and that we were only seeing “hills.” At 3000 metres a Himalayan hill earns status as a “peak.” At 5000 metres, it is considered a “mountain.” The Annapurna mountains are between 6000 and 8000 metres high. Everest tops out at 8,848.

For perspective: the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies is Mount Robson at 3,954 metres and the highest in the Alps, Mont Blanc, is 4,808: mere “peaks” by Himalayan standards.

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