THE TRIP (Trekking in Nepal- Post 2)

We were finally on the trail!  After years of planning for this moment, months of preparing (plane tickets, backpacking gear, etc.), weeks of training (trail running, push ups, etc.), days of traveling to the other side of the world, and hours of riding in the fetal position on overcrowded buses... man oh man were we ready to GO!!!!  When we hit the trail things were surprisingly flat which I tried to appreciate knowing that once we started to climb we wouldn't stop for the next week and a half.  When we came to the first rise in the trail I strode up it leaving my brother in the dust.

You readers may or may not understand the competitiveness that men instinctively feel when put in the wilderness with another male.  Bears, Moose, Boys and Men feel they need to prove to themselves, their women, and those around them that they are tough enough to overcome the challenges that face them.  This was particularly true for Dave and I not only because we were two males in the wilderness but also, I think, because we were brothers and.... well, I beat him up a lot when he was little.  I clearly remember the fateful day when my little brother kicked me across my bedroom and sent me hurtling headfirst into the hamper.  No need to go into the details of that incident but I still have the chipped tooth to remind me of the fact that my little brother is now tougher than me.  That said, I was feeling pretty good to be out in front on the trail... at least for the moment.

Waterfalls and terraced rice fields continued to cascade from the ridges a kilometer above our heads down to the raging river below.  Then we came to what would be the first of many suspension bridges.  It swayed a bit as we crossed it and was surprisingly steep at both ends.  Because we were on a 'tea house trek' we passed numerous donkey trains coming down off the mountain with empty loads.  They were the main mode for importing food and products to the remote villages at lower elevations.  At higher elevations the donkey trains would give way to yaks.  Nepali men and women also carried anything from metal roofing to live chickens on their backs.

Adorned with bells and bright colors we usually heard the donkeys before we saw them.  The cow bells and sleigh bells weren't solely for decoration however.  I had read that the number one cause of death on the Manaslu Circuit was from being knocked off the trail by donkey trains.  Dave and I were diligent to get on the uphill side of the path whenever we heard those bells- 'killed by a donkey train' was not how we wanted to go down.

Indeed, we were almost always walking along the edge of a precipice that dropped hundreds of feet down to the Budhi Gandaki river.  But we were not alone.  In order to get back country permits we had to have a guide accompanying us.  At first Dave and I were a little nervous about what kind of person we would have to share this trip with.  That person turned out to be Logan and we couldn't have asked for a better guide on the sometimes treacherous trail.

Logan was not intrusive and often hung back allowing Dave and I to set the pace.  But whenever we came to a fork in the trail or a slightly technical section of trail he was right there with us and in his gracious way led us through it.  During the course of our trip we had many great conversations with Logan and early on learned that he was a brother in Christ.  Though at first skeptical about this, by the end of our trip together I had no doubts about our guide's faith.

Logan's son was sick and nothing was helping him get better.  It wasn't until after a missionary had prayed over their son that he was healed and Logan and his wife came to Christ.  Logan's mere presence with us on the trail was one of the most powerful testimonies I encountered in Nepal that Christ is indeed changing families and lives on the other side of the world.

At least once a day we ate a Nepali dish called Dal Bhat.  It is a lentil soup poured over rice with steamed vegetables and a spicy achar.  Amazingly this dish never got old and always gave us enough 'dal bhat power' to finish out a day of hiking.  Though the days were often hard we could always count on eating and sleeping well in the tea houses.

Since the Manaslu Circuit only recently opened to the public as a tea house trek along an ancient salt-trading route through the Himalayas, most of the accommodations we encountered were newly built.  Beautifully rustic hotels, wooden beds and dining rooms were all constructed by hand from freshly cut lumber.  Not a single power tool was used.  It was strange to encounter the new and old intermixed so high up in the mountains.

At lower elevations our days were hot, even tropical.  The vegetation was lush and water seemed to be pouring from every rock crevice.  Logan didn't even carry a water bottle.  He simply stopped for a drink whenever we passed a stream or a spring.  Though Dave and I filtered our drinking water, we often drenched our heads in a waterfall and even went swimming.  At days end a cold shower was always in order.

But as we continued to gain elevation we found the days were cooler and the semi-tropical eco system was changing into alpine forest.  Because all the showers were being fed by mountain streams they too were getting colder.  Eventually Dave and I couldn't bear the cold showers nor did we need them as badly.  We weren't sweating as much during the days, the nights were brisk and we began to see snow on the mountain tops.

We also began to see some wildlife.  At one point my brother stopped in the trail and said in a low voice, 'Monkey.'  Sure enough, when I looked up not far ahead a large monkey (about the size of my three year old) was sitting upon a rock in the trail.  He was watching us and seemed to wave, though I suspect he was signaling his friends in the tree tops.  As Dave got his camera ready I quietly got his long lens out of his pack.  All the while the monkey sat on his rock patiently waiting.  Dave slowly raised the camera and prepared to take the shot just when the primate jumped into the woods and out of sight.  I'm sure he understood what we were doing- smart monkey.

Now hiking through alpine forests we continued to go higher passing too many waterfalls to count.  The especially steep sections of the trail seemed to be getting harder to climb.  The air was a bit thinner.  Then one day, after an especially long climb we passed under a stupa and entered into a town with a beautiful monastery.  Boys in red robes could be seen running up hill to class.  Then, beyond the monastery our eyes met Mount Manaslu for the first time- the eighth highest mountain in the world.  That's where we were headed and the only road back home led around it climbing ever higher.