If teahouse trekking was available in the United States, everything would change. Obesity would vanish as people of all ages, races and sizes raced up the hill to the new attraction. Organized sports would become obsolete as our finest athletes would be revered for their ability to run up mountains instead of putting balls through hops. World peace would prevail as our leaders reasonable compromised over black tea in the Himalayan shadows. Okay, I'm being a bit hyperbolic, but my first trek through only the third most popular trekking route was quite spectacular.
Interestingly enough, my first trek began with one of the most horrific moments of my life. My lonely planet guide wrote only a meager forewarning sentence about the bumpy, dangerous road to the starting point for the trek, but I mostly shrugged it off. If the Nepali people take it all the time, how bad could it be? After exiting the bus in a pouring rain so I could walk over a landslide and piling into an overstuffed cattle truck to clear the next stretch of land, I found how bad it could be. As we approached a narrow, boulder-laden stretch of road with a small waterfall crosing, I figured this was where we would get out and walk past the next landslide. Instead, the insane truck driver kept rolling along through the waterfall, boulder-field death trap. In the midle of the crossing, the truck teetered off the edge of the cliff and everone gasped in terror.
This is it I thought. Remembering the Earthquake fiasco a few days prior, I resolved to view my Death as an inevitable conclusion to my impermanent nature and decided I wanted my final thoughts to be calm and peaceful. Still, I hoped my body could be readily identified so my mother wouldn’t send my poor father on an endless and ultimately meaningless quest acros the Himalayas to find his lost son. Yet, to my surprise the truck landed back on four wheels and proceeded (somewhat) safely down the road. After walking another hour down slippery rocks in a drenching rain, my wet, carsick body found a peaceful lodge to rest at. Even better, after locating a friend from my Meditation retreat, I met another lone trekker who I invited to walk with me the next day. Now I had not only a guide named Gopal, but a friend named Luke.
On day two, Luke and I walked up 100 meters to Lama Hotel and discovered thestark differences between teahouse trekking and backpacking. The first difference for me at least was the scenery. I’ve hiked many places, but never a jungle like this. Throughout our hike we were accompanied by a raging, rocky river that only the truest mad man would consider rafting down. The greenery was the greenest green I’ve ever seen. The green-leafed trees have green mos on them that have different green plants growing off of them. The second main difference is the food. At around noon when I would normally be pulling out a crumbled up bagel sandwhich and a bag of trail mix, Luke, Gopal and I sat down at a riverside village café and were served endles heaps of rice, lentil soup, curried vegetables, and all the black and lemon tea we could drink. The third main difference is the sleeping arangements. After trekking up and down steep hills for a few hours in a light but consistent raind, I may dread the prospect of setting up a tent and the possibility of my stuff getting wet. Instead, at the end of the day I was shown into a simple but clean room, outfitted with a cozy bed and desk where I could lay my nighttime essentials. Finally, the most important difference is the company and culture at the end of the day. Packed comfortable into a comfy dining area, I could chat with trekkers about life on the road, and to locals about lives without roads.
Having quickly accustomed to life on a trekking trail, day 3 was another pleasant, albeit tiring, walk up another 1000 meters to Langtang valley. About halfway up the trail to Langtang the rainforest thinned out and high-alpine mountai valleys opened up. By the time views of the highest peaks were possible, we were stuck in a cloud and couldn’t see all that much. I didn’t mind at all though, because by early evening I found myself in a quiet lodge, consumed in conversation with Gopal. He told me all about the joys and struggles of living in Nepal, and I shared my perception of the successes and failures of the American lifestyle. More and more on my trip I’m learning how people amongst cultures are completely different yet so similar at the same time, and my discussions that evening only reinforced my viewpoint all the more.
The 4th and last day of trekking uphill was both the easiest and most spectacular. It took only a couple hours to climb the 500 meters to Kyanjin Gompa, and with a clear sky the majesty of the Himalayas were in cull force. Vocabulary could never do the beauty and power of these 20,000 ft plus peaks justic, so I won’t even try. Instead I’ll simply say this. They are huge, snowy and beautiful. Solitary confinement for life wouldn’t be all too bad if you had these peaks for company. Unfortunately, by mid-afternoon the clouds covered the peaks from view, so I allowed myself a well-deserved nap. That evening, Luke, Gopal, Gopal’s friend and I laughed about women, girlfriends, multiple girlfriends and sharing girlfriends with your brothers (not too uncommon in Nepal according to Gopal’s friend…)
On Day 5 Gopal and I awoke at 5:30 am, determined to tackle the daunting Tsergo Ri which lies at 4,900 meters. A cloudy morning changed our plans though, so we slept in and hiked to a glacier field instead. We admired the glaciers and the peaks we could see for a bit, then curiously interacted with the locals who were collecting yak milk that they churned and boiled into butter and cheese. Normally on hikes I enjoy watching nature untouched by human interference, but for once I considered that humans working in accordance with nature could be at least equally beautiful.
Later that evening with the clouds let up, I went behind the lodge and sat on a roack for some surprsingly rare alone time. I had one of those moments where my monkey mind stopped jumping from past memories and future concerns and simply sat still to fully observe the present moment. I noticed just how many boulders laid strewn acros the many hills and valleys. Just how yellow the alpine grass was. Just how contoured the mountains peaks were. Just how transient the clouds were. It was magical.
On day 6 Gopal and I walked steeply up to the 4,800 meter viewpoint at Gyanjin Ri. Some of the postcard views were covered in clouds, but I could care less. Lying next to a prayer flag and admiring the many powerful peaks I could see still easily ranks as one of the best sights I’ve ever had the privilage of viewing. After about 20 minutes of silence, normally mild-mannered Gopal blared Nepali pop music from his phone and started dancing around the stones and flags, providing me with some unexpected hardy laughter. Sure, the panoramas weren’t quite as spectacular as they would be in another few weeks when the monsoons fully ended, but I was perfectly content and happy in these moments.
During the afternoon of Day 6 and all of Day 7 we retraced our steps in a knee-busting trudge from 4800 meters at Kyanjin Ri to Sryabu Besi at 1400 meters. Gopal and I shifted the focus away from our knees by sharing famous American and Nepali songs with each other. Just when I thought my knees couldn’t take anymore, Gopal would randomly start singing Adele, renewing my jovial spirit and giving me the motivation to walk another hour or so. As always, the lodging company was suberb. At Lama Hotel I had a fun time trying to explain to a British family that actually very few Americans identify with the tea party, and on the final night I had a really interesting discussion with a Denmark couple about the development field. I went to bed that final night with firm thighs and a slew of new memories to cherish.
Normally when I have such a remarkable experience like this, I try to search for some grand truth or ultimate meaning. This time, I think the experience itself holds all the meaning it needs. I shared beautiful sights with beautiful people, and I was happy. I think that’s enough.
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