tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38052906890753542322024-03-08T08:52:59.131-08:00In The Land of LoCraig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-61279185474768490212014-05-30T18:38:00.000-07:002015-02-06T08:30:47.990-08:00Mustang Trek, Day 9...Reflections and Bargaining With A Master<div>
Mustang Trek, Day 9...Kagbeni to Jomson, 8 miles, 300 feet elevation gain. </div>
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For entire trek, 54 hours, 110 miles, 18,000 feet climbing. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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"<b><i>We stopped inside this magic circle, like guests in a holy place…There with my inscrutable companions I came to understand then, in some only vaguely defined way, that communication existed between people who did not know one another, that there was solicitude, pleasant answers to those pleas, even in the most far-flung and out-of-the-way places in the world."…</i>Pablo Naruda</b></div>
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Thursday morning I woke up to a beautiful view outside my window at the Nilgiri Hotel in Kagbeni. Green fields of barley were directly beneath me and high above towered the grand peaks of Nilgiri, Tilicho and Daulagiri. Straight ahead was the wide Kali Gandaki and just around the far bend lay our final destination of the trek, Jomson. It would only be a three hour hike today. Not a hike, really, just a stroll down the river valley. After what we had been through I think all of us would just be on autopilot, maybe even have time to search for an ammonite or two; those black, round stones that keep hidden inside them the fossilized remains of sea creatures dead 100 million years. </div>
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Having my coffee, Tibetan bread and eggs (sunny side up, thank you very much), I heard the unmistakeable sound of a goat herd. Stepping outside the inn, which is right on Kagbeni's main street, there were perhaps 100 goats strolling by, their goat herder whistling and making his little goat calls. Better appreciate this, I thought, you won't see it in Lucas Valley. </div>
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View from my hotel room window...</div>
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Kagbeni goat herd...</div>
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Nilgiri...</div>
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Our hike this morning was great. Too early for wind, the morning light glowing on the high peaks, I was able to really soak it in, knowing that I may never see it again. The Kali Gandaki valley is an incredible site and you cannot be in a deeper valley anywhere in the world. Geologists say that the river valley is older than the Himalayas themselves, the great mountains having grown around it. </div>
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Trina broke open a black, round stone and inside was revealed something, but it was hard to say whether it was a fossil or just some unusual mineral. Nirajan later gave me a rock in the shape of a heart. "Give this to Amy", he said, "a heart from the Kali Gandaki". </div>
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Although we were mostly on a footpath, occasionally we had to walk on the road. Many trucks and buses passed us, some on the road, some just driving up the dry river bed. Most of these were carrying pilgrims to Muktinah. Wherever they were going, we were back in civilization, or at least what passed for civilization here. To us, after 9 days in Upper Mustang, it was the sign that we were back in the real world...or at least close to it. </div>
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Trina, the rock carver...</div>
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This bridge is actually a lot more stable then it looks...</div>
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This looks s painful...</div>
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We soon rounded a bend and there was Jomson. We walked all the way through town, what seemed like miles and miles, passed the airport and were back at the Hotel Tilicho, where we had started our journey 9 days before. We all sat down in the "lobby" and collectively breathed a huge sigh of relief.</div>
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So now we were back in civilization. Or were we? We all went out for a little shopping expedition. Ron needed some cash, so across the street was an ATM. He walked up to the booth and was stopped by the security guard. One minute, said the man, we have no electricity so we have to start the generator. This generator was wired right to the ATM. The guard pulled the rope to start it. A little sputter. He pulled it again. Another sputter. He looked at it with quizzical eyes, called a friend over to help. Then another friend. And another. Soon, six men were pulling the rope and trying to get the generator started. After 30 minutes everyone gave up. Ron never got his money. </div>
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For dinner we sat down in the hotel's dining room, The great peak of Nilgiri looming above us. Spaghetti, French fries, popcorn...a major carb rest. Beer flowed like water and we raised our glasses in self congratulations. We had made it. All of us had accomplished something amazing. We were all there for different reasons; some for the adventure of being in a new culture, some to do another one of the world's great treks, some because...well, just because. We had all made it out alive, some more war-torn than others. I'm sure all of us will be reflecting on this journey for many years to come.<br />
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<b><i>"In a land with no central heating and few comforts, and after many exhausting weeks of few pleasures, I discovered that alcohol was truly made to 'warm' the hearts of me, that is, if used in moderation".</i>..Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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<b><i>"In the Land of Lo, distances are increased by the difficulties of climbing at such high altitude and by the ruggedness of the terrain. Although I never once got tired of investigating new villages, new buildings and monasteries, it was not without considerable effort that each day I set out again in the cold wind, or the scorching sun, to walk in my worn out boots, in my tired feet, along the stony tracks that, like little pale threads, linked together the small universe of the Lobas."</i>…Michel Peissel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div>
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The next morning broke clear and without wind...we would be able to fly. At dawn, the sun broke high above on Tilicho and Nilgiri, a beautiful site if I've ever seen one. By 7am, we were on the Twin Otter, engines reving at maximum power. The runway is quite short and drops precipitously, making me think what it must be like to fly off of an aircraft carrier. But we climbed quickly and were flying down the Kali Gandaki. Soon we went from the dry, barren landscape of the Himalayan rain shadow to the forested expanse of the south side of the mountain range. Over terraced fields we flew, seemingly only a few hundred feet up. Within 20 minutes we were flying over Lake Fewa and were soon down on the tarmac of Pokhara. </div>
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We spent two lovely days in this resort town. The lake is nice to walk by, there are good restaurants, great shopping and there are South Indian barbers! When I was in Penang last year, I had my first experience with a South Indian barber. Having a haircut with fast fingered scissors and a shave with a straight razor is one of the great lost arts in the western world. But here in Asia, it's taken for granted. So I found a little barber shop and sat down in an old wooden chair so the man could work his magic. After 10 days without shaving, I looked rather scruffy and a bit like an old bum. But after an hour here, I was a new man. </div>
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First came the haircut, the barber using his long metal scissors for everything; head, eyebrows and nose. You just can't think about the details here. Then he dabbed a little cream, combined it with water and a shaving brush, and soon my face was white with lather. The straight razor came out and was soon gliding over my face, the barber being ever so careful. Within a few minutes, the beard was gone. Next he asked me if I would like a facial scrub and I said sure, why not. He applied a white, smelly cream all over my face, stinging my eyes a bit. Then, he massaged the cream into my face, a facial massage of sorts. After this, he unrolled some thread and held it about 13 inches between his hands, he glided the string over my face, taking off the cream. He finished in spots with the razor and showed me the cream he had taken off my face...black with the dirt my pores had gathered all over Mustang!! </div>
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Feeling like a new man, I headed down to the lake to a restaurant named Jiva, which Trina had found on Trip Advisor. Fantastic food, very California cuisine. Trina and Nance had paninis, I had a cheeseburger which was really, really good. </div>
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After a quick nap, we all met in the garden of the hotel. It was about 5pm and Nirajan and KB wanted us to taste some homemade apple brandy they got in Jomson. It was quite tasty, but we each just had a small amount. Then Nirajan ordered some Tuborg beer and some peanut mix concoction that is very good. Then more beer arrived and then some fried chicken and popcorn. By the 8th beer, we were having conversations about Mormon underwear and how green potatoes can make you sick (no one believed us about Mormon underwear until we pulled it up on Wikipedia and it turns out that green potatoes are okay if you cook them). Soon it was raining and we went inside to the dining room. </div>
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In a few minutes, more Tuborgs were coming (these aren't your run of the mill American sizes, but the bottles are twice as big) and more tasty food. I lost the bottle count at around 12. We had cheese sandwiches, fried chicken, dahl bat, more peanut salsa and God knows what else. I finally headed to bed at 8, leaving the younger ones behind. When I got up the next morning I asked Trina, just exactly how many beers were consumed, maybe 15? 24, was her response. Oh my. </div>
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Ron, Nance and Trina...</div>
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My pal, KB, and me...</div>
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Ron and Sheila...</div>
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The Dynamic Duo, Nirajan and KB...</div>
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The next day we were up at 4:30am to see the sunrise over the Annapurnas. Unfortunately, our driver didn't get the memo and he didn't show up until 5am. But no matter, we made it to the viewpoint right when the sun came up. You are supposed to have an amazing view of the Annapurnas, but it was really hazy and was difficult to see anything. But it was fun watching the Indian families snap picture after picture of the sun coming up over the hidden Himalayas. </div>
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The rest of the morning was spent seeing the 'sights' of Pokhara; a waterfall, a cave and a Peace Pagoda. At one point, driving through the more gritty area of Pokhara, we came upon a camel...yes, a one humped camel, just standing in the middle of the road. No camel driver, he was just wandering around like he owned the place. Camels are not native to Nepal, so this one had come up from India somehow. </div>
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WTF?!?!</div>
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KB and his new hat. Look out, ladies!</div>
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A traveling knife sharpener...</div>
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Lake Fewa...</div>
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The day in Kathmandu was spent shopping with Nance and Trina. Let me just say here that if you are coming to this part of the world and plan to do some major shopping, bring Nance Rosencranz with you. She is a ruthless bargainer. Having lived for three years in Iran in her 20s, she learned not only some great Parsi phrases (when someone sneezes in the marketplace you say, "The donkey has farted, the bazaar is closed!"), but she also learned how to bargain without any emotion or caring for the merchant whatsoever. That's the secret, she told me, you cannot have emotion for the merchant or you will not be a good bargainer. </div>
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Our first stop of the day would be at Boudanath temple, the giant white stupa that we visited a couple of weeks before. I wanted to get something very special for Amy; a Medicine Buddha thanka. Thankas are the paintings, usually on a scroll, of a different form of Buddha or some other Buddhist deity. The medicine Buddha is the Buddha of healing. He is blue and is always holding healing herbs. I thought from the beginning of the trip that this would be the perfect gift for Amy, as she has always liked Medicine Buddhas anyway, being a doctor. </div>
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A thanka artist at work...</div>
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Nirajan had promised to take me to the best thanka shop in Kathmandu. And boy, was he correct. Right on the circle that surrounds Boudanath, are many old shops. Nirajan took us to an old Thangka school, where artists learn the craft. There are 500 artists that are connected with this school. I told Nirajan that I wanted one done by a master, not a student. So we met the head guy, Mr. Anul Lama, and headed up to the third floor, passing hundreds of thangkas and a few artists painting mandalas. We sat down on comfy chairs and out came a huge roll of about 20 paintings, all Medicine Buddhas. We went through them one by one, liking some, rejecting most. We finally got down to the one I wanted, a master work in beautiful colors with two boudisatfas surrounding him. </div>
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Then the negotiation started. I just let Nance go at it, as she really knows what she's doing. I think she surprised Mr. Lama, maybe he hadn't seen an American with such a ruthless negotiating tactic. Nirajan was looking on, open mouthed in amazement, and I just sat back and enjoyed the show. Trina was totally ignoring everything, looking at small mandalas for herself. Mr Lama would state a price, showing it on his calculator. Nance would say something like, "No, not even close", and pound another price on the calculator. Back and forth it went, Mr Lama starting to look a little exasperated But after 20 minutes or so, a price was agreed upon and everyone was happy. Mr Lama smiled...laughed, really, and we all shook hands. We then had to choose the brocade, the silk backing that the painting goes on. More negotiation, although the price started at only $35. No matter, said Nance, you always negotiate. </div>
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We decide on a thanka...</div>
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The master bargainer in her element...</div>
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Nance, Trina and I were then on our own and went to Thamel, the tourist area of town. We had an Indian lunch and the just walked around, eventually ending up in a Kashmiri rug shop so Trina could buy some pillow cases. </div>
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But soon I noticed the Kashmiri rug merchant throwing rugs on the floor and Nance actually looking interested, in the rather uninterested way that Nance has when she wants to buy something. Before I knew it, there were 30 or more rugs on the floor; wool rugs, silk rugs, rugs with incredibly tight weaves, all handmade by little old ladies in Kashmir. When Mr Rug Merchant mentioned the price of a beautiful silk rug, I was also interested. Then Nance was off and running. Of course Mr. Rug Merchant starts off by telling us that he is offering us a special low price, the lowest he can possibly give us; special, just for us, his good friends. Well, anyone who has watched Casablanca, when Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart are ambling through the bazaar, knows that's a lot of bull ("Oh, special friend of Rick's, only 700 francs!"). By this time, tea had been ordered for us, a special tea guy goes around the different stores giving tea to the customers. Then, Nance mentioned a price for three rugs and two pillow cases and Mr Rug Merchant said, "oh that's way to low, I would lose money". Then Nance had the best line I have ever heard her say. In a straight face, she actually said, "My heart bleeds for you, but you are too high...not even close". At this point, I almost laughed so hard the tea would have come out my nose. I didn't dare look at Trina, as I knew we would just start cracking up. But soon, a price was agreed upon and all parties were happy. By this time, Mr Rug Merchant was bringing out the $200 cashmere sweaters and $500 handmade scarves, thinking he had a live one. We left with only the rugs and pillow cases. </div>
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The last evening the five us had dinner with Nirajan as he took us to his favorite restaurant, the New Orleans Cafe. I had a tasty chicken dish with peanuts and we shared a pitcher of margaritas. We all agreed that this was a most amazing experience and that we would promote Nirajan's company, Nepal Social Treks, in any way we could. </div>
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Our trek was arranged by our dear friend, Nirajan Chaulagain. Originally with Nepal Social Treks, he has moved on to form a new company, Rugged Trails Nepal. His website for the Mustang trek is<br />
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They are a great organization that does all sorts of treks all over Nepal. Over the last 9 months I must have sent him more than 30 emails with all sorts of questions. He answered all of them, always in a timely and polite manner. As you can tell by reading this blog, the trek was handled very well. We always got a room and every tea house was really nice. KB was a great guide who knew exactly what trails to go on and how long it would take to get to our destination. From the airport pickup to the airport drop off, 2 1/2 weeks later, they took care of all of us very, very well and I will use them again when I come back to this part of the world. I now consider Nirajan and KB true friends and, thanks to Facebook, we can keep in contact with each other. </div>
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Epilogue</div>
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<b><i>"The mule gun is on the yak."</i>...the phrase that started it all for Michel Peissel, from 'Bell's Grammar of Colloquial Tibetan'</b></div>
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After a 3 hour wait in the rather dilapidated Kathmandu airport, I got on the airport shuttle to Air China #408, headed to Chengdu, China. I sat down in the bus and soon two beautiful Tibetan women came in, a young woman in her 30s and her mother, maybe in her 70s. They were all bedecked with lovely Tibetan clothes and jewelry. The old lady had two long braids with a long, thin red cloth interwoven in them, much like the Chiapas women of southern Mexico. I gave them my seat, which they were very thankful for. The shuttle bus headed off and literally went 100 feet to our plane. I got in my seat and soon here came the two Tibetan women and they sat down right next to me. </div>
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The plane was taxiing down the runway and the old woman started chanting her Buddhist mantras. She was holding tight onto her prayer beads, eyes closed, deep in thought. My mind immediately went back to windy, cold Lo Monthang, high on the Tibetan Plateau, where for centuries Buddhists have worshipped, chanted and held tight onto their prayer beads in some of the most beautiful temples in the world. </div>
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As the plane started down the runway and the old woman quietly chanted, I knew I would be safe for the ride home. </div>
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Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-42692503219020813162014-05-25T15:13:00.000-07:002014-06-01T18:37:56.244-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 8...Old Customs Die Hard<div>
<b><i>"I would never think of smoking in a house or in a monastery, which is 'very sinful'. As for whistling in a house, this is also very shocking - as ghosts will come"</i>...Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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Mustang trek, Day 8...Samar to Kagbeni. 6 1/2 hours, 14 miles, 1000 feet climbing. 11,800 feet to 9,500. </div>
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Today ranks as one of the two windiest days I have ever experienced. The other was two days ago. But today didn't start out that way. </div>
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The morning broke with not a cloud in the sky and perfectly calm. From my room, the mountain climbed thousands of feet straight up into a dark blue sky, a small herd of horses going by with their bells ringing. Breakfast was early, 6:15. I had two fried eggs and Tibetan bread with honey. KB had carried two jars of honey all the way from Kathmandu and by the time the trek was over, the honey was gone. It tasted delicious on the Tibetan bread. Tibetan bread is like Indian fry bread and is tasty and hearty for your morning meal. </div>
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We were soon off from Samar. We have noticed that most animals; goats, horses, cows, have bells around their necks. But I have never seen a chicken with a bell until today in Samar. This was a big rooster and he had a bell bracelet around his leg and his little harem of hens was following him around. He seemed very proud of himself…until Nirajan chased him away.</div>
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This part of the trek has one of the most beautiful trails I have ever seen. We did it coming up, right out of the Kali Gandaki river valley. Now, we went down the same way. You really see how, at one point, you are high on the Tibetan Plateau, then you go right down the side of a deep gorge and the trail is cut right out of the side of the cliffside. You have a beautiful view of the entire Annapurna mountain range. You go down, down, down and in not too long you are at the bottom of the Kali Gandaki, in a totally different environment. Remember, these trails are hundreds and hundreds of years old and the engineering is pretty remarkable. It's a tough trail for one who suffers from any fear of heights, as one bad trip and you would go down 1500 feet to the river below. Small villages sparkle in the Himalayan sun below the giant peaks and there many hundreds of prayer flags wave in the morning breeze. By the afternoon, those prayer flags would be barely hanging onto their strings! </div>
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<b><i>"It was like a vision of the Grand Canyon, without cactus or water, painted in vivid colors. For miles around, as far as I could see, there was not a single blade of grass, a tree, or a bush. All was one bullied expanse of desolation combining the horrors of desert and high, arid mountains, of barrenness and cold"..</i>.Michel Piessel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b><br />
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Of course, there are many of these small towns along the way that never see a tourist, as like this one, they are on the other side of the gorge from the main trail. So life goes on in these villages, far removed from the modern world.<br />
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<b><i>"Polyandric marriages are always made with the consent of all involved. When a man marries, his younger brothers are consulted. If they like the same woman, and the girl agrees, they make a common marriage - all involved participating in the marriage ceremony. The elder brother, nevertheless, retains the privileges due to his rank, while in other matters everything is shared.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>"In Mustang, pygamas do not exist, and everyone goes to bed naked. This is an ancient custom, perhaps originating with the Drokpas, nomads of Tibet, who as a rule always live naked in their tents because the heat of their bodies warms the tent. When a woman has two or three husbands, I was surprised to learn that all three or four sleep together upon the same mattress which is set out before the fire at night. After this, it is anybody's choice, with no rules. A startling revelation!"</i>…Michel Peissel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div>
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Soon we were nearing the bottom of the Kali Gandaki valley, through the little town of Chele, over a bridge and then we were walking along the river. Although we were just passing through, you could observe everyday life in the village…one man was hanging a prayer flag on his roof, another group was making arrows by the trail. An old woman was walking down the prayer wheel wall, spinning them all.<br />
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When we got to the bottom of the Kali Gandaki valley, we crossed the modern, metal bridge (just behind a motorcycle, who had to be pushed up to the bridge) then along the new road. We all looked for those black rocks, many of which have hidden inside them ammonites, the 150 million year old sea creature fossils that are also sacred to the Hindus. Trina found one, but we really couldn't tell if the thing inside was a fossil or just a different kind of mineral. Often, you see groups of people out on the riverbed, which is 90% dry, loaded with millions of rocks, searching for ammonites to sell in the tourist stores. Back in Pokhara, you see them everywhere and in fact both Ron and I bought some beautiful ones.</div>
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An ammonite...</div>
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The modern bridge...</div>
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By 10:30 we were at our lunch destination of Chhuksang. We got a nice room with a view of the valley and waited for our lunch. By 11:30, no lunch, so KB and Nirajan went to the kitchen and made a great meal of spaghetti and french fries. Yes, spaghetti and french fries for lunch! Hey, we have been using 4000 to 5000 calories every day, so I think it's okay. This whole trek has been a carb fest and I'm sure I've eaten more carbs in the last 9 days then I have in the last 9 months!! Spaghetti, noodle soup, popcorn, Tibetan bread, porridge…you name it. And it's all sooooooooo good!</div>
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By now the wind was up big time, sweeping through the valley as it does every day. Just in case I have not mentioned it, the famous wind of Mustang is caused by an unusual geographic phenomenon. On the south side of the deep Kali Gandaki valley, you have the low lands of the Himalayan foothills. As the valley goes north, it suddenly goes up to the Tibetan plateau, many thousands of feet higher in elevation. The air pressure is much lower on the Tibetan Plateau, so the air just moves up there, at amazing speeds. It is like clockwork…at around 9:30 am, a slight, very nice breeze starts up and you would normally say, oh, what a nice breeze on a hot day. But by 1pm, that breeze has turned into a gale of hurricane strength and can reach speeds of 80 mph or more. That lasts until well after dark, when it settles down and by the time you wake up it's perfectly calm.</div>
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We still had over 3 hours walk, with one or two steep uphills. The wind was so strong at times that it almost blew off my hat and if it wasn't for my improvised cashmere scarf hat holder I would have lost my favorite hat long ago. We all had our hats tied down and had some kind of scarf to cover our faces, because of so much dust.</div>
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We had to cross a small stream and then go up a very steep path, maybe 300 feet up. At the top of this was an abandoned tea house, where we were able to hide in its wind shadow and eat some chocolate (a treat I handed out to everyone, as I had brought 20 bars over from the US). Then it was back down to the road, winding up and down, in and out of the wind. I would have loved some kind of a wind speed measuring device, but there must have been gusts of 80 mph plus. All normal, said KB. Wow, how do people live in this? It's a great place for Buddhist prayer flags, however, as every time they flutter in he wind, a prayer goes out in the universe, carried by the Wind Horse, or Lungta. The breeze makes the prayer flags flutter and there, on one of the many prayer flags, is always Lungta and he carries the prayer out in the universe.</div>
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Finally, around 3:30, we reached our destination of Kagbeni. We walked all the way through town and got to our hotel. I had a nice room overlooking the Kali Gandaki with...I couldn't believe it...a private bath with shower and sit down toilet!! Well, the shower had no hot water, but by now I'm not picky.<br />
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<b><i>The fort -like appearance of Kagbeni spoke of a warlike race, expressing in the majesty of geometrical sturdiness a taste more robust and one less over-richly refined"…</i>Michel Peissel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div>
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A male "Kheni" greets you as you enter Kagbeni...</div>
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Do you want fries with your Big-Yac?</div>
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After a little rest, I headed up to the dining room. KB and Nirajan were there and soon Ron joined us. We were able to have some nice little "guy" talk with a few beers and popcorn and crispy Nepali cracker things. Before we knew it, it was dinner time. Sheila, who has been battling intestinal problems since Day 3, and who has somehow through her strength and with the help of KB and Nirajan made this trek with the rest of us, almost looked healed and ate pretty well. </div>
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Tomorrow, our last of the trek, will only be 3 hours to Jomson. I'm ready to get it all over with, as my toes have blisters, my eyes hurt from the dust and wind and every part of my body is ready for a rest. Plus, in Jomson, I may be able to contact Amy by email for the first time in 5 days and then a couple days after that I will be able to Skype her. I can't wait to hear her voice!</div>
Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-67941485374353676292014-05-25T07:59:00.000-07:002014-06-01T18:37:27.814-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 7...Eets NAH-ting!<div>
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<b><i>"For those who develop high blood pressure rushing about Paris or New York, in and out of planes, taxis and buses, it would be a marvelous therapy to purchase a yak and follow it around on errands. Its frustratingly slow pace would be the best possible antidote to our modern age of rush. "</i>...Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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Mustang trek, Day 7; Ghemi to Samar. 7 1/2 hours, 15 miles, 3600 feet of climbing. High point, 13,000 feet. </div>
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As I write this in my little wood paneled room in Samar, right next to Nance and Trina on one side and Ron and Sheila on the other (where I can hear them breathing, the walls are so thin). I have a view of the high, snow capped mountains and a goat herd is moving by under my window, their bells ringing away and the goat herder is yelling and whistling some kind of goat language to keep them moving. We just finished another hard day, but were here by 3:30, as we left earlier than normal. We just finished off three big bowls of fresh popcorn and now can rest for a couple of hours before dinner, when I will have the Nepali national dish of dahl bat. </div>
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This morning we immediately went straight up a mountain, 1200 feet in one hour. Sheila, who has been feeling awful, got a horse for the first half of the day, which they rented from our tea house in Ghemi. Once we got to the top of the pass, at 13,000 feet, the view was tremendous of the Annapurna range. We were able to see all the way down towards Jomson, 20 miles away, where it looked like it was raining. The Kali Gandaki runs between Nilgiri and Daulagiri peaks and this we saw well from the pass. Behind us, where we had just come from, was the town of Ghemi, way below, and the long mani wall that we passed on the way up. </div>
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Sheila rides a Tibetan pony...</div>
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After the first pass, it was down 500 feet then up another 1000 feet to the second pass of the day. Of course, there was the rock pile (make sure you go around to the left!!), and by this time, Sheila had caught up to us and passed us (she started a 1/2 hour after we did). We went through another beautiful valley with a small village with prayer wheels and a very nice chorten. Up another small pass, then it was down to our lunch village of Syanboche, where we spent the night 5 days before. This is where our old pal Toto had left us, but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had hitched onto another group of Trekkers for the walk back to Kagbeni. </div>
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Then it was up another mountain, about 800 feet, where there were more beautiful views. When Sheila, who by this time was, remarkably, walking and doing an amazing job, asked KB if there were many hills to go, he said, "Yes, but eets NAH-ting!" This is what he always says when we have done the hard part and the rest is "relatively" easy. </div>
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<b><i>"We have met no man, nor seen his trace, only the dried dung of goats and horses and the old campfire at the ghost by Ghelling Khola"...</i>Peter Mattiessen, East of Lo Monthang", 1995</b></div>
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The saddle...</div>
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Beautiful scenery along the way...</div>
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Nance, laid out to rest...but it's only lunch time!</div>
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We hiked along a mountain ridge and through a very small village. In fact, you couldn't call this a village, really, as there were only two buildings, one being a tea house. What I imagine was the entire population, 4 adults and two kids, was playing a local form of dice, where the chips are small sea shells. There was the dice box in the middle, which one person would plop down on a small leather square. There would be much laughing and talking, but I really couldn't figure out what they were doing. On the side of the tea house, where we were sitting and watching, was a big straw basket which had a baby goat underneath. One of the locals was a 1 year old girl, who was crawling around, looking up at us foreigners and saying, "Namaste!".<br />
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<b><i>"Gambling for money is an affliction of the Himalayan peoples, and there is nothing a Loba will not bet on, whether it be how many donkeys will pass the city gate in the evening before a yak appears, or a Tibetan game of dice played with little bone sticks and beans."…</i>Michel Peissel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b><br />
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An old, twisted juniper, growing in unbelievable conditions, 12,000 feet above sea level. A nice bonsai, if a little smaller...<br />
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Well, we still had another big hill, then down a VERY steep and rocky cliff with the trail cut out of it, cross a creek, then up another few hundred feet until we reached our lovely little town of Samar. </div>
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The tea house here has two things that we all love...#1 is an instant hot water shower with unlimited hot water (best $1.50 I ever spent) and #2 is fresh popped popcorn, which three of us (Trina, Ron and me with a little help from our guides and porters) devoured in record time. </div>
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Trina on a steep descent...<br />
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Samar's town gate...</div>
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Small chortens in the village of Samar...<br />
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Dinner was dahl bat, especially good because they will give you seconds of both the dahl (lentils) and the bat (rice). This is what Niragan, KB and our porters ate twice a day, every day. They also use this chili sauce, bright, bright red in a white bowl. I said I'd like to try it and Nirajan and KB looked at each other in horror. Then I said, no problem, I'm from California, we have spicy food all the time. They said to try just a little bit, so I put what I would call a microscopic amount at the end of a tine on my fork and put it up to my nose to smell. Somehow, my aim wasn't too good and the tine went right in my nose. Not too bad, but then I tasted it. Well, needless to say, I have never tasted anything so spicy in my life, just this tiny amount! I had to drink half my beer just to quench the heat in my mouth! Let me just say, I'll never say "I'm from California, I'm used to spicy food" again! Everyone got a good laugh at that one.</div>
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We washed it all down with Everest beers then we were all snug in our sleeping bags by our normal bedtime of 8pm. </div>
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The spicy concoction</div>
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Dahl bat</div>
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My boots and hat after a week of trekking...</div>
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Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-54831205782210111252014-05-23T16:22:00.001-07:002014-10-19T10:37:05.608-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 6...High Passes and Flying Tigers<div>
"<b><i>Going up a gentle rise, we reached a path where stood a pile of stones, each of them thrown there by a grateful traveler to thank and glorify the gods of war who haunt such high and lonely places. In thanksgiving, with my own prayers, I tossed another stone onto the heap."</i>...Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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Mustang Trek Day 6...Lo Monthang to Ghemi, 16 miles, 3000 feet climbing, high point of trek, 14,000 feet. </div>
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We got an early start at 7:15, with just Ron, Nance, me, KB and one of the porters, Norbin. Sheila is quite sick with nausea and Trina's knee is sore, so they, along with Nirajan and the other porter took a jeep to our next town, Ghemi. We would be on a foot path all day today, so no trucks!</div>
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Leaving Lo, we went out of town and I saw a large two story structure under construction. Oh nice, I thought, a new school. But no, said KB, this is to be a 5 star hotel!! Well, bye bye Mustang. This place will never be the same with hordes of 5 star type tourists coming up here in their jeeps and helicopters. I'm so glad I came when I did.</div>
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We continued up the long, wide valley full of large boulders and the occasional goat herd, their bells ringing quietly throughout the valley. A large vulture, much like our turkey vultures back home, circled overhead. Don't look at us, I told him, we're tired, but not that tired. The trail wound around the hill until we reached our first pass of the day, 13,400 feet. But looking across the valley, we saw another pass, even higher. So on we marched, higher and higher. The beautiful mountains rose to our right, dark clouds looming. I saw a couple of snow flakes, but soon the clouds receded and we had sunshine again. Up, up, up we went until we finally got to the pass. Of course there was the ubiquitous stone pile on top and we all added one. My altimeter read 14,000 feet. KB said this would be our highest point. What's the name of this pass, I asked him. "I dunno", he said. Okay then, IDunno pass. Or in Tibetan, "Idunno-La". </div>
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<b><i>"It was like a vision of the Grand Canyon, without cactus or water, painted in vivid colors. For miles around, as far as I could see, there was not a single blade of grass, a tree, or a bush. All was one bullied expanse of desolation combining the horrors of desert and high, arid mountains, of barrenness and cold"...</i>Michel Piessel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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We leave Lo Monthang...</div>
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We hiked through a wide valley, strewn with large boulders, which, thousands of years ago, had tumbled down from the high peaks. </div>
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First pass of the day, Panga-La, 13,400 feet...</div>
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It was here we saw a caravan of horses, maybe 7 of them, carrying provisions for trekkers who are camping. Wow, must be one large group. Then, behind we saw three very tired and none-to-happy looking trekkers walking up with their two guides. Amazing how much stuff they needed for camping!</div>
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Highest point of the trek, 14,000 feet...</div>
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So now we went down into another valley, then up again to another pass. Then it was down a very steep path, around 1000 feet, which was a very difficult descent. Rocks were everywhere and it was easy to slip. Thank goodness for trekking poles! We got to the bottom, crossed an old wooden bridge, and then hiked up to the ancient monastery of Ghar Gompa. Here we met our friends Sheila, Trina and Nirajin, traveling by jeep. </div>
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Ghar Gompa is by far the oldest monastery in the region, over 1300 years old. In fact, it is the oldest active monastery in all of Nepal. It is dedicated to Guru Rimpoche, who, legend says, rode his tiger all over Mustang, establishing monasteries where he had defeated various demons. There are several rooms, some with three dimensional paintings of the all the Tibetan Buddhist iconography. In the lower room are beautiful statues, one of Guru Rimpoche that legend says he made himself. I lit a butter lamp for Amy in this old and very beautiful place. </div>
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Our porter, Norbin, by some very old mani wheels, worn down from centuries of turning. </div>
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Now we were off again, straight up another large mountain. By now the wind was up and would be with us the rest of the day. As opposed to the way up here, with the wind at our backs (which was bad enough), now we were headed right into it. By the time we got to the top, it was blowing a good 50 or 60 miles an hour. At times it was hard just to stand up!!</div>
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Ron and KB...</div>
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Now it was down another steep path to our lunch destination, the small town of Dahkmar. This valley was incredible. It seems that each time we would go over a pass into the next valley, the landscape would totally change. The prior valley had looked like the Eastern Sierra, fields of large boulders, mountains rising steeply to the sky. Now, we were in a totally different place, just the other side of a pass! Here, it was more like Bryce Canyon, with amazing rock formations in vivid red, orange and grey. But there were also many man made caves dotting the cliffs. </div>
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We walked through the small village and found a little tea house. By now it was 2 in the afternoon and we were exhausted, wind worn and famished! We had a quick lunch of noodle soup and were off again, trudging through the amazing landscape with towering cliffs, fields of horses and the occasional chorten. At one point we saw a woman with a big basket on her back, picking up horse manure for the fire. Much of the cooking fire here is made with manure as there is so little wood. </div>
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<b><i>"I would never think of smoking in a house or in a monastery, which is 'very sinful'. As for whistling in a house, this is also very shocking - as ghosts will come".</i>..Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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Up another pass we went and there it was, down in the valley, our beautiful destination of Ghemi. Just one more quick descent to the river, over an old bridge, then up to the town and we had made it. I went to my room, laid down, and was quickly out like a light! </div>
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After a couple hour snooze, we all met in the kitchen for drinks and dinner. We started with three orders of popcorn (a wonderful surprise snack here) and beer. The lady of the house was churning yak butter the Tibetan way; in a tall, narrow wooden churner. We all got to try it, most of us getting yak milk on the floor and on our clothes. Even the lady spilled a bunch on her dress, mostly because she kept staring at our handsome guide, Nirajan, and lost concentration. Tonight would be dahl bat night, the ubiquitous meal loved by all Nepalis. We all loved it, except for poor Sheila, who took one bite and headed for the bathroom. Sheila is still quite sick, but bless her heart, she's trying as hard as she can and won't give up. </div>
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Churning the yak butter...</div>
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Our guides and porters. </div>
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A word about our new friends, Ron and Sheila Burgess. When you go on a trek like this and there are other people coming, you just hope you will get along with each other. Well, we really lucked out with Ron and Sheila. Ron is an orthopedic surgeon (hand doctor, actually) in Lexington, Kentucky. He's of Dutch stock and originally from Michigan. He's 62 years old, a great guy and in really good shape. When he wasn't ill on the trek, he would often be the first up the pass. When he was sick for a few days, you would hardly know it, as he never complained. I mostly knew it because he was very quiet and when we had lunch in Ghemi on Day 3, he ran out in the middle of lunch to the inn's garden and barfed. But within 1/2 hour of this, he was up and trekking to a 13,000 foot pass. Now that's something. </div>
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Ron trying on a Nepali hat...</div>
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Then there is Ron's wife, Sheila. Sheila is originally from Alabama, wears a big "A" on her hat and at first she kept saying, "Roll Tide!" all the time. She was aghast that I had absolutely no idea what that meant, but she soon filled me in. At home, Sheila is a housewife who has raised four children, all now grown and off on their own. She is a member of the Junior League and once when talking at dinner, mentioned about going out in her "ball gown". When I just looked at her and said, "Ball gown?" in my rather snarky, sarcastic way, she said, "Yes, you know, when you go to your charity events". Oh yeah, those, Nance mentioned, when we party with George Schultz and Walter Shorenstein (San Francisco elite, for those of you who don't know). But although Sheila is comfortable with Junior Leaguers and in ball gowns, she is just as comfortable trudging up 13,000foot mountain passes in a place as remote as Mustang. The most amazing thing was that she was sick from Day 3 to Day 8 and only one of those days did she skip the trek and take a jeep. It was amazing seeing her so determined to do the trek and not quit. </div>
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Ron and Sheila...</div>
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We were all in bed by 8:00, as tomorrow we would leave at 7:00. I went to sleep with the full moon lighting the mountains outside my window and a goat herd walking by, their bells echoing through the valley. I dreamt of high, snow covered mountains, riding my tiger over them, as Guru Rimpoche had done over 1500 years ago. </div>
Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-20949691835668488302014-05-21T23:08:00.001-07:002014-05-23T21:11:41.985-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 5...Life in Lo Monthang<div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><b><i>"...magnificent desolation."</i>....Colonel Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin, Tranquility Base, July, 1969</b></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Mustang Trek, Day 5. Lo Monthang and Surrounding Area</div><div><br></div><div>Today was our day of "rest". We are all so tired, this was a day we were all looking forward to. We decided to take a horse ride 1 1/2 hours north of here to a complex of caves called Johng. Caves dot the landscape here and most were made 1500 years ago or more. I always thought it would be fun to go into one of them and now would be our chance. KB arranged for us to ride some of the local horses and they were waiting outside our hotel this morning at 8am. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7Myq6tTXaLI/U32UZRleKPI/AAAAAAAAjeU/lgZQW_jx5vU/s640/blogger-image-2021994187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7Myq6tTXaLI/U32UZRleKPI/AAAAAAAAjeU/lgZQW_jx5vU/s640/blogger-image-2021994187.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-eJuS_8PW_Pg/U32UUdkCA-I/AAAAAAAAjeE/-ZaziZ0v59o/s640/blogger-image--1107822798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-eJuS_8PW_Pg/U32UUdkCA-I/AAAAAAAAjeE/-ZaziZ0v59o/s640/blogger-image--1107822798.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>We headed down the ravine on he north side of town, the huge monastery above us. At the bottom of the ravine, along the creek, were several houses. These were the houses of the Gara tribe, the outcasts of Lo Monthang. </div><div><br></div><div><b><i> "I discovered that there were about twenty families of the Gara tribe outside the city. The members of this tribe, although ethnically Tibetan in physical appearance, are treated as outcasts. The Garas are the blacksmiths of Tibet and while all other classes in Tibet benefit from a remarkable democratic status, the Garas have since time immemorial been regarded as pariahs, and are not allowed to live within the city walls. Besides being blacksmiths, they also operate water mills for grinding grain. Each of their houses, built beside the torrent, incorporate a water mill. Apart from these Garas, the inhabitants of Mustang vivid a very close knit life."...</i>Michel Prisell, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div><div><br></div><div>Once on the Tibetan horses, we were off to the north along an old dirt road. We passed old, dilapidated monasteries and on the top of a hill, Ame Pal's original fortress. Ame Pal was the founder of the Mustang kingdom and its first king. The current king is a direct descendant. There were several small villages along the way, a surprising number considering how few we saw on our trek up here. The landscape was like the moon; barren and totally desolate except in the river valley where there were villages and fields. Looking north, we saw a series of small mountain ranges. The furthest, maybe 15 miles away, was in Tibet. We were very near the border. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HVhdKR4WQWg/U3_MNB6GcAI/AAAAAAAAkLg/uQJHV6yOveI/s640/blogger-image--893134417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HVhdKR4WQWg/U3_MNB6GcAI/AAAAAAAAkLg/uQJHV6yOveI/s640/blogger-image--893134417.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6o5Ra3w3Sbs/U3_Me9GEwGI/AAAAAAAAkLo/Ivfxaws-OjI/s640/blogger-image--1806875301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6o5Ra3w3Sbs/U3_Me9GEwGI/AAAAAAAAkLo/Ivfxaws-OjI/s640/blogger-image--1806875301.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_GzATzAaIOQ/U3_LySJ7x_I/AAAAAAAAkLY/egdUMOPs7kE/s640/blogger-image--1375500241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_GzATzAaIOQ/U3_LySJ7x_I/AAAAAAAAkLY/egdUMOPs7kE/s640/blogger-image--1375500241.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-YoKPeQrT9rw/U3_KZhE6sgI/AAAAAAAAkKg/JoiBiIw0Iuw/s640/blogger-image-1363104681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-YoKPeQrT9rw/U3_KZhE6sgI/AAAAAAAAkKg/JoiBiIw0Iuw/s640/blogger-image-1363104681.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Egjjq23kYZ8/U3_Kfry7hOI/AAAAAAAAkK4/1vS8P3YL8yk/s640/blogger-image-1477412532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Egjjq23kYZ8/U3_Kfry7hOI/AAAAAAAAkK4/1vS8P3YL8yk/s640/blogger-image-1477412532.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7bN7FoYWMVk/U32UXhmerSI/AAAAAAAAjeM/htbwAI5M9hg/s640/blogger-image-89112426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7bN7FoYWMVk/U32UXhmerSI/AAAAAAAAjeM/htbwAI5M9hg/s640/blogger-image-89112426.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wMbYtbbL8_I/U32Ua_EHzsI/AAAAAAAAjec/Wr3Ps6c3AvA/s640/blogger-image-2043515875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wMbYtbbL8_I/U32Ua_EHzsI/AAAAAAAAjec/Wr3Ps6c3AvA/s640/blogger-image-2043515875.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After about 90 minutes we arrived at a small village and walked up a valley to the base of the cave complex. </span></div><div><br></div><div>The Keeper of the Keys, a nice Tibetan lady, led us up a stone stairway and into the cave complex. From the outside, there were several openings and it was hard to comprehend how they were connected. But inside, we saw that were connected by passageways and modern wooden ladders. The funniest thing was when we got to the second room, there was not only a case displaying artifacts, but two tables with souvenirs, "antiques made to order"; Tibetan knives, religious artifacts, etc. the same stuff you see everywhere. We made our way up 4 flights of caves by the ladders. The caves all had large holes in the walls looking out. This was never a temple or burial cave, but a cave for the locals to protect themselves when bandits would raid the village. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-iX2CXdqzutU/U3_KdY3zzXI/AAAAAAAAkKw/R5YnjlHNJlI/s640/blogger-image-614303520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-iX2CXdqzutU/U3_KdY3zzXI/AAAAAAAAkKw/R5YnjlHNJlI/s640/blogger-image-614303520.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IosSGRk5xt8/U32UOAS-FGI/AAAAAAAAjd8/2WzQivyQNkQ/s640/blogger-image-696467635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IosSGRk5xt8/U32UOAS-FGI/AAAAAAAAjd8/2WzQivyQNkQ/s640/blogger-image-696467635.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The cave complex above our heads...</div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PVF-xrj3duo/U32UccSjSSI/AAAAAAAAjek/E25-4J3AK0k/s640/blogger-image-928176325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PVF-xrj3duo/U32UccSjSSI/AAAAAAAAjek/E25-4J3AK0k/s640/blogger-image-928176325.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The souvenir stand, inside the cave. Always an opportunity to sell to tourists!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-dEb6vtIUm4w/U32UKB1bb8I/AAAAAAAAjds/qlp3oYdpcyo/s640/blogger-image--1652742053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-dEb6vtIUm4w/U32UKB1bb8I/AAAAAAAAjds/qlp3oYdpcyo/s640/blogger-image--1652742053.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Keeper of,the,Keys...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ny6TtzFrrsg/U32UMYQD8AI/AAAAAAAAjd0/DFI8FLtRLf0/s640/blogger-image-1767105183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ny6TtzFrrsg/U32UMYQD8AI/AAAAAAAAjd0/DFI8FLtRLf0/s640/blogger-image-1767105183.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-AlVfqX8_jow/U3_KbxGD1_I/AAAAAAAAkKo/cSiB_7eKZzA/s640/blogger-image--1962840732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-AlVfqX8_jow/U3_KbxGD1_I/AAAAAAAAkKo/cSiB_7eKZzA/s640/blogger-image--1962840732.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IbBDqNhWfE4/U3_KiFp8OXI/AAAAAAAAkLA/qXylsJ_qZJc/s640/blogger-image--342032167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IbBDqNhWfE4/U3_KiFp8OXI/AAAAAAAAkLA/qXylsJ_qZJc/s640/blogger-image--342032167.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>We headed back to Lo, had lunch, and then went back to Tupchen Gompa. Now, the restorers and painters were there with their brilliant lights up on the walls. Yesterday we only had our puny headlamps, but now we could see these magnificent frescoes in all their restored glory. The restoration of Tupchen has been going on for 16 years and has been funded by the American Himalayan Foundation, headed by Diane Feinstein's husband, Richard Blum. These paintings are beyond belief. The Buddhas look down on you with beautiful faces, so exquisitely painted with great finesse and detail. For the top two thirds of the wall the paintings have been cleaned and restored to their near original beauty. The bottom third was too far gone, so modern experts have come from Kathmandu and other places to teach the locals how to paint in this style. The result, after many long years, is nothing short of remarkable. We were shown around by the head restorers, and they told us how they mix the paint in the original style. They take things like lapis lazuli and malachite and ground them up to make paint. Sometimes it will take them 4 days to get the paint just right to match the original colors. They use real gold for the gold paint. They have to redo the plaster walls first, which is a long process, and this includes things like ground up rock, dirt and cow dung. Then they sketch the painting they will do, and then they paint it. The modern paintings are very good and every effort has been made to match the original style as much as possible. Most of the modern paintings are the small side figures, not the large main Buddhas. No modern artist can replicate exactly the beauty of the 14th century masters, none of whom we will ever know their names. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-LbrIF6yQ6vE/U4Ab-_6stlI/AAAAAAAAkPI/AVVugjCcITA/s640/blogger-image--1415370844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-LbrIF6yQ6vE/U4Ab-_6stlI/AAAAAAAAkPI/AVVugjCcITA/s640/blogger-image--1415370844.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Entrance to Tupchen...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2Gfuc_-vH4A/U39Kyok7QQI/AAAAAAAAkJI/vQw9LsxcvzI/s640/blogger-image--1510952487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2Gfuc_-vH4A/U39Kyok7QQI/AAAAAAAAkJI/vQw9LsxcvzI/s640/blogger-image--1510952487.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Most of these pictures were taken before the current restoration...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NewF3AaQwbg/U37OTA2IicI/AAAAAAAAjgg/SygZ3sp01Yg/s640/blogger-image-1600606732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NewF3AaQwbg/U37OTA2IicI/AAAAAAAAjgg/SygZ3sp01Yg/s640/blogger-image-1600606732.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZcgV0zipBVU/U37OUq6R1PI/AAAAAAAAjgo/i3h2Uu3x5eA/s640/blogger-image--1023129467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZcgV0zipBVU/U37OUq6R1PI/AAAAAAAAjgo/i3h2Uu3x5eA/s640/blogger-image--1023129467.jpg"></a></div><br></div>The Thousand Buddhas...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ypgpDbrdhXc/U37ORs9rdKI/AAAAAAAAjgY/7yGF0fIgCIo/s640/blogger-image-1794159760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ypgpDbrdhXc/U37ORs9rdKI/AAAAAAAAjgY/7yGF0fIgCIo/s640/blogger-image-1794159760.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of the masterpieces in Tupchen. They just don't make 'em like this anymore...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-EuAq-gfuRA8/U37OV7uL2eI/AAAAAAAAjgw/hLVDO48I8Uk/s640/blogger-image--1558885183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-EuAq-gfuRA8/U37OV7uL2eI/AAAAAAAAjgw/hLVDO48I8Uk/s640/blogger-image--1558885183.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After the restoration in Tupchen an Jompa temples...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-YpDGQEIvkao/U3_RT2bVmWI/AAAAAAAAkL8/PyZdI_cFxyU/s640/blogger-image-1268804212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-YpDGQEIvkao/U3_RT2bVmWI/AAAAAAAAkL8/PyZdI_cFxyU/s640/blogger-image-1268804212.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-JHgCFRVkuaw/U3_RSDjCErI/AAAAAAAAkL0/wLqwyRvUtPI/s640/blogger-image--338510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-JHgCFRVkuaw/U3_RSDjCErI/AAAAAAAAkL0/wLqwyRvUtPI/s640/blogger-image--338510.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>This all takes place in the Assembly Hall, a huge room with 35 big wooden pillars that were originally brought from Tibet. There is a large skylight that gives the great hall its light. Up in this skylight are carved lion heads, most original. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-dU7D3QTe4Eg/U39K4AfGo5I/AAAAAAAAkJg/7MDcx-3BKKY/s640/blogger-image--636873801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-dU7D3QTe4Eg/U39K4AfGo5I/AAAAAAAAkJg/7MDcx-3BKKY/s640/blogger-image--636873801.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Afterwards, we walked around the tiny streets of Lo, meeting cows, goats and </div><div>Lo Bas. One of the older, odder customs here is that you stick out your tongue when greeting someone. I think this particular custom is pretty rare, but I saw one old lady do it to an old man. </div><div><br></div><div>At one communal spot were several women washing clothes and gossiping, not any different then other parts of the world. One woman was spinning two different colors of thread together. With this, her niece told us (who spoke very good english), they make clothes and other things. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YspFK1C9hMc/U39K0JrLxhI/AAAAAAAAkJQ/OoLZ80tx5Fg/s640/blogger-image--1920534265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YspFK1C9hMc/U39K0JrLxhI/AAAAAAAAkJQ/OoLZ80tx5Fg/s640/blogger-image--1920534265.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-aHDvD7fNl2Q/U39K27mhQaI/AAAAAAAAkJY/pP8UVGgj0LA/s640/blogger-image--837641844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-aHDvD7fNl2Q/U39K27mhQaI/AAAAAAAAkJY/pP8UVGgj0LA/s640/blogger-image--837641844.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vpaedRQH058/U39K5q-t1GI/AAAAAAAAkJo/HPbkLV5w4OA/s640/blogger-image-1525596122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vpaedRQH058/U39K5q-t1GI/AAAAAAAAkJo/HPbkLV5w4OA/s640/blogger-image-1525596122.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>My room and the kitchen at the "Mystic Himalayan"...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rowotnwwujk/U3_TPzXUPFI/AAAAAAAAkMM/Fa8lPxzY2cs/s640/blogger-image-179384246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rowotnwwujk/U3_TPzXUPFI/AAAAAAAAkMM/Fa8lPxzY2cs/s640/blogger-image-179384246.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-PiAdZ3hAQL0/U3_TOusDx3I/AAAAAAAAkME/dYMFB01V5c4/s640/blogger-image-1056479163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-PiAdZ3hAQL0/U3_TOusDx3I/AAAAAAAAkME/dYMFB01V5c4/s640/blogger-image-1056479163.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><b><i>"I soon discovered that this life of small hardships is the common fare of the Lobas, who live a life quite devoid of excessive pleasures. This austerity, though, is never marred by sad faces, and one of the characteristics of the people of whom I now lived every hour of my day, was their love of laughter and their propensity for making jokes."..</i>.Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div><div><br></div><div>So tomorrow it's back on the trail. We will visit Mustang's oldest temple and hike for 7+ hours. I guess we are ready. </div>Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-77330076541172243182014-05-18T16:21:00.001-07:002014-06-01T17:28:15.288-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 4. We Reach Lo Monthang<div>
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<b><i>"May one be liberated as soon as he sees this temple of the body, speech and </i></b></div>
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<b><i> mind of the Buddha. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>May one be liberated as soon as he hears about it or touches it. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>May one be liberated as soon as he prostrates and circumambulates it. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>May one be liberated as soon as this temple is even thought of."</i></b></div>
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<b><i>---Inscription in Jompa Gompa,</i></b> <b>'The Temple of the Future Buddha', Lo Monthang, 1435 AD</b></div>
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Mustang Trek Day 4, Tsarang to Lo Monthang. 8 miles, 1200 feet climbing, 4 1/2 hours. Highest point, 12,600 feet. </div>
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We made it. After 4 days, about 50 miles and about 9,000 feet of total climbing, we are in the amazing town of Lo Monthang. When we got to the final ridge, there it was, far down in the valley, the ochre buildings of Jompa and Tupchen and the huge, white royal palace. It seemed all worth it, looking down; the long flight and the difficult trek. Finally, here was the place that I had been dreaming about visiting for years. The only thing that was missing was Amy. I would have to experience it for both of us. </div>
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We started off with a nice breakfast at our tea house in Tsarang. I had Tibetan bread, like an Indian fry bread, and eggs. The owner of the tea house, an old Loba gentleman, went through the place on his morning ritual, waving an incense burner, cleansing away the energy of evil spirits. </div>
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Nance is ready to go...</div>
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A couple of snot-nosed kids, as my mother use to say...</div>
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The trek today was relatively easy. Only about 6 miles and 4 1/2 hours. The only difference today was the number of trucks, carrying tourists and locals. Before today, we only saw a few cars everyday, most of them local people in jeeps or large trucks. There was also a helicopter that flew overhead about 6 times, ferrying tourists back and forth to Jomson. </div>
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One of the many chortens along the route...</div>
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We saw several caves today, mysteriously built, thousands of years ago, way up on the cliff side, with no apparent way to get to them. Most of these caves are empty, but some hold temples or burial chambers. It's still a mystery to scientists who built them why and how. But some think that there may have been carved staircases that have long since eroded in the wind. </div>
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I hiked ahead of the group, finally coming to a rise and a pass. Going a little further up a side hill, there it was, in all its glory below us. What I had dreamt of for years was sparkling in the bright Himalayan sun; the capital city of Lo Monthang. </div>
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<i>"Coming up a hill, we reached a narrow passage between two bluffs, a natural gateway through which the dusty trail slithered...what I saw was beyond description - so were the emotions that flooded me as I stood in the howling wind that raced through the narrow corridor. </i></div>
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<i>"At first I could not believe my eyes, and felt like the incredulous mediaeval travelers looking for the first time at Rome. Not even my wildest flights of imagination could have pictured what lay before me. It seemed that I, too, was living the age old legend that has haunted the mind of man for generations, and which in our times of modern stress has increased as a form of escapism: the legend of the lost city - of Shangri-La, of a Paradise Lost, a land where ageless men thrive beyond the borders of our busy, unromantic world. A place where time hangs frozen upon a secret universe."...</i><b>Michel Peisel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div>
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I sat there on the dusty hill top staring at this beautiful site with our two porters, who looked relieved to be here. Soon, Nance, Trina and KB joined us and we all stared silently at Lo Monthang, the wind howling through the prayer flags that were strung up on the pass. Wondering where Ron, Sheila and Nirajan were, we headed back to the trail and they had walked right past the viewpoint and were heading down to the town. In Sheila's delicate condition they were in no mood to dilly dally.</div>
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Our tea house, The Mystic Himalayan, abuts the outer wall of the town. There are no places to stay within the walls. And the nicest thing about this place? Sit down toilets!! For everyone who takes this modern convenience for granted, just go without them for four days, and have stomach problems at the same time. Also, there is an instant hot shower, actually, the third hot shower we've had on this trek. I don't think I've been quite so dusty in my life as here. The constant wind and dust makes a for dirty trekker!</div>
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After we checked into the tea house, I took a quick stroll through Lo Monthang. This place consists of tiny, narrow streets, seemingly going nowhere. Around every corner is something going on, a lady washing clothes with her grandchild by her side, or someone leading a few goats in town. One nice lady leaned out of her window and asked where I came from and how I liked the town. People are very nice here. There are several souvenir stores, all selling the same Tibetan trinkets and the owners can be a bit a bit aggressive getting you in the store. But I have the excuse to tell them that our guide won't let us buy anything until we get back to Pokhara, as it's too heavy for our porters. Most of the stuff comes from Pokhara anyway. </div>
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One of the odder things people do here is stick their tongue out when greeting someone. We wave, the Lo Bas stick their tongue out. You are especially supposed to do this, along with scratching your head, when you greet the king. Luckily, we didn't have to test that tradition. In fact, I think the whole tongue thing is a dying tradition, as I only saw one old lady so it. But it was still a bit shocking. </div>
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Street scenes from Lo Monthang...</div>
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After lunch and a quick nap it was off to see the temples, Tupchen and Jompa. First we had to go the monastic school to get the tickets. Here, boys of all ages were playing cricket in the large playground, all in their monastic red robes. It was quite a site. They were batting the ball all over the place and I wondered why they didn't occasional break a window. Here, we saw a small temple with beautiful, 600 year old frescoes. These hadn't been restored and were very dark. Luckily, Trina had the idea to being our flashlights so we could see, as the electric light was very dim. No pictures are allowed in the temples (unless you pay a $100 camera fee!!!) so all pictures here inside the temples are from Google images. </div>
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Next up was Tupchen, also a monastery from the 15th century. This is an absolute incredible place, as you walk into a huge hall, the walls of which are covered in Buddhist masterpieces. Large frescoes of the Buddha and other masters cover the walls. It was very dark, but we were told we could come back tomorrow to see the restoration in progress. </div>
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Before the restoration...</div>
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<b><i>"We found ourselves in a short yard leading to a high, wide, covered porch. Here I stopped in amazement, for on either side of this porch sat two huge painted clay statues about four yards tall. With gigantic pot bellies, outsized faces and impressive features, these divinities stated at us reproachfully. They were the "Four Kings of the Quarters", the fierce guardians of a Tibetan temples</i></b></div>
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<b><i>"Like an ugly insect dwarfed by the fierce guardian kings, the old man got to work once again with his rattling keys and led us through the door into a black hole - where apprehensively, feeling as if we were about to penetrate the dark, cold bowels of the earth, we followed him. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>"I had never seen anything more impressive than this majestic hall - an eloquent monument to the great architectural talent of the Tibetans. Slowly, the vast empty hall became populated by divinities as, like children, we paced along this huge picture book, accompanied by the guardian of the temple, who pointed out the more frightening divinities to us with his crooked, dirty fingers.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>"Here were the oldest and most beautiful works of art of Mustang. 'Only the most beautiful monasteries in Tibet have comparable paintings,' Tashi commented, and then added 'But in Tibet you would never see such a beautiful gumpas uncared for and abandoned.'</i></b></div>
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<b><i>"I wondered whether it was not a blessing that this great assembly hall was abandoned? Had monks still lived and prayed here, no doubt they would have found it necessary to 'renovate' the frescoes and replace with shiny, less beautiful designs then those drawn by monks who had died four centuries ago. Although over the years techniques have hardly changed in Tibet, and designs have remained the same, there is a certain quality and finesse in the art of past centuries which cannot be found in more recent creations."..</i></b><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">.</span><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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The next temple was Jompa, a three story Gompa just a few yards from Tupchen. This place is also amazing as it has a 45 foot statue of the Buddha of the future, lit only by the light coming in from the doorway. On the walls were incredible mandalas, all with the most finely detailed little figures, mostly Buddha, that you can imagine. Look closely at these and you will,see a 5 inch high painting of the Buddha with the eyes, ears, arms, everything very finally painted. These are also around 500 years old and had been recently cleaned, bringing out the detail even more. </div>
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When the Tibetan scholar Giuseppe Tucchi visited Lo Monthang in 1952, he had this to say about Jompa and Tupchen's paintings...</div>
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<i>"The paintings are so blackened, in some parts erased by the water dripping from the ceiling, that it is not possible to take photographs of them so these two notable monuments of the best period of Mustang are also fated to disappear. It is very lucky that I arrived in time to collect the memories of them which still remain."</i></div>
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Again, from Michel Peissel...</div>
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<b><i>"We found ourselves in a gallery. It was dark and it was with a shock that I suddenly saw looming before me the frightening figure of the most colossal statue I have ever seen. It rose up into the tower from the ground - a huge fifty foot high figure of 'the Buddha who is next to come'. Its hands, half the size of my body, were raised in the gesture of turning the wheel of life. Its gigantic face stared at us from the lofty dimness above, while from its outsized fingers dangled countless katas thrown there by devout pilgrims. Fifty feet high, and representing a seated figure, its proportions were truly monstrous. The head alone was as big as a stout man. Painted gold, with gilded copper plate over its arms and shoulders, the huge Buddha glimmered eerily."...</i></b><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The gigantic statue of "The Buddha Who is Yet to Come", which is over 50 feet tall...</span></div>
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An example of one of the incredible masterpieces in Jompa...</div>
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At dinner we were able to make call to Amy and I was able to talk to her for 5 minutes or so before Nirajan's SIM card ran out. It was great hearing her voice and how good she sounded! </div>
Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-66661390585690001232014-05-17T17:22:00.001-07:002014-06-01T17:18:58.490-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 3...Guru Rimpoche's Demon<div>
<b><i>"Before me spread a yellow and ochre desert, the most horrifying I could have imagined, a succession of barren, wind-eroded crags overlooking deep gorges and canyons which cut across an inferno of parched soil, like deep scars in a vast sand pile...A terrible wind whistled in my ears, in my eyes, spitting sand as it whipped across this parched landscape, howling in the canyons and buffeting the hills. I found myself exclaiming: 'This is Mustang! I must be mad! I will find nothing here but desolation.' </i>"...Michel Peissel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</b></div>
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Day 3, Syanboche to Tsarang. 7 1/2 hours trekking, 16 miles, 2600 feet climbing. Max altitude, 12,600 feet </div>
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Well, we made it on what must be one of the most brutal days yet, maybe one of the most brutal physical days I have ever experienced. We didn't do as much climbing as yesterday, only around 2600 feet, but after yesterday's really hard day, this one was for the record books. In addition to just the hard trail, each one of the five of us has either a slight stomach bug or a really bad one. Ron, the orthopedic surgeon, came down with something really nasty last night. He's hardly eaten all day, but has been an amazing trouper, climbing steadily up all the hills, keeping up with the rest of us. </div>
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We starred off in Syanboche, a tiny place with four houses. Our tea house's owner's son was walking around when I got up early and I got some great pictures of him. </div>
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We started trekking at 7:30 and went right up. After a few hundred feet we turned the corner and went across a wide valley. There was a lovely little village with prayer wheels and a big chorten. Whenever I see prayer wheels on this trip, and there are many, I spin them (always clockwise), sending healing prayers out to Amy. Of course, I am constantly thinking about her on this trip, trying to soak everything in for the both of us. I know she would love it here and would love this trek. </div>
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After an hour or so climb, we came to a pass, the Nyi La (pass). Of course, as always, there is a huge pile of rocks at the top. So you pick up a rock from the trail, walk to the left of the rock pile, and toss your rock on it. Some of these rock piles are very big and I just wonder how many travelers have come by here over the centuries. </div>
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From the pass the view was extraordinary. On one side was the entire Annapurna range, on the other, beautiful rock formations of red, grey and brown. </div>
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We descended to the town of Ghemi for lunch. This place looked like a metropolis after the last few towns. All the buildings are white, many two stories and all have stacked firewood around the perimeter of their roofs. This town had a nice chorton and some walls with several prayer wheels in them. From what I could see, it's mostly the old women who spin them. </div>
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After lunch, we had to descend a couple of hundred feet to the river, cross a bridge and then hike right back up. There is a lot of that here. Now we started our ascent of a huge pass but first we walked by the biggest mani wall on the Tibetan plateau, maybe in the world. A mani wall is a wall, maybe 8 feet high, that consists of prayer stones, all inscribed with various Buddhist sayings. This wall is over 300 yards long, so you can just imagine how many stones there are. It is said that this mani wall was built on the intestines of a great demon, which Guru Rimpoche defeated in battle. </div>
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<b><i>"It's great length and varied colors gave this gigantic prayer wall the aspect of a cold snake making its way through the valley. When I asked what the wall was called, I was told that it represented the intestines of a demon that had been killed many years ago by the saint, Guru Rimpoche. This holy Bohdisatfa had come long, long ago to the land of Lo, which was then full of demons. Seizing one of these demons, he had dismembered it and thrown its heart deep into the ravines of Mustang; later a monastery by the name of Gekat was built at this spot. Then, taking the demon's lungs, the saint threw them away and they formed the red and pink cliffs that now hemmed us in on both sides. As for the intestines, they were flung onto the ground where the great prayer wall now stands."...</i>Michel Peissel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div>
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From a New York Times article...</div>
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<i>"The tale begins with a demon. Centuries ago, it destroyed the foundations of a Buddhist monastery under construction in central Tibet. Then Guru Rinpoche, who had brought Buddhism to the kingdom, pursued the demon west, deep into Mustang. The two fought among Mustang’s snow peaks, desert canyons and grasslands. Guru Rinpoche prevailed, and he scattered the demon’s body parts across Mustang: its blood formed towering red cliffs, and its intestines tumbled to the wind-scoured earth east of the cliffs. Later, people would build a wall of prayer stones, the longest in Nepal, atop the intestines."</i></div>
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The landscape here was unbelievable. You could almost think you were on Mars, except for the occasional chorten that dots the landscape. The cliffs were a beautiful red and scoured by the wind to make amazing carvings. By now the wind was up, luckily at our backs, as we started the steep climb. The road made some big switchbacks, but not us. We went up the trail at a bit of an angle, but very steep. This was really hard...a very steep cliff, 12,000 feet up, and all of us in various degrees of sickness. After 90 minutes of this we made it to the top. Of course there was the ever present pile of stones with prayer flags at the top, this one a big one. It feels so good to throw your own little stone on the pile, a real sense of accomplishment. </div>
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From here it was a 90 minute descent to the town of Tsarang. This is an important town, where the king has a palace and there is a big monastery. The palace is huge, all white and many stories high. But I think the king (well, former king, he was de-kinged by Nepal several years ago) is rarely here. In fact, he is now in Kathmandu as he is quite old and sick. There is also a beautiful monastery, all painted dark red. The view was beautiful as we headed down the trail and here was a big beautiful chorten to welcome us...</div>
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<i><b>"I hardly dared believe my eyes when I gazed down upon Tsarang, looking like a delicate miniature painted in reds and greens and white spots by an over-conscientious illustrator of children's books. A great castle, five stories high, stood upon a crest dominating a steep gorge. It seemed to be in good condition. Its windows looked down upon the neat little white houses that nestles in its shade. The castle reminded me of a European midiaeval building. Rectangular in shape, it stood near the romantic ruins of a still older building. The small houses were set in a very green carpet that ran up the sloping bed of an ancient glacier. </b></i></div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">"Never in all my travels in the Himalayas had I seen a building as large and imposing as the fort of Tsarang. It reminded me that I was now in the land of a king who was a ruler in the ancient tradition. Like a small ship pulling into harbour, we marched in a neat file through the 'door chorten' to the edge of the green fields, then into the fairy tapestry of Tsarang. The beauty of the town, contrasting with its surroundings of great cliffs and mountains outlined by snowy summits on all sides, moved me very much and made me feel that all the energy I had spent in coming here had been worthwhile." ...</i><b>Michel Peisel, 'Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom', 1967</b></div>
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We checked into our tea house, all absolutely fried from the day. After a one hour nap, a lady from our tea house took us up to the monastery to meet the lama. But he wasn't there, nor were any monks. Maybe tomorrow we will try again. </div>
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We had a nice dinner in the kitchen, the cook and owner laughing and talking with our guides, KB and Nirajan, and our two porters. Even though we couldn't understand a lot of what was going on, it was nice being in such a warm, friendly environment after this long, difficult day. </div>
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The tea houses have been surprisingly nice. They all have good bedrooms, many have hot showers and most have lousy toilets. But the nicest thing is sitting in the kitchen with the family as they make you dinner. You get a small idea of what life is like here by watching the people cook and do other chores. </div>
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Tomorrow we reach our destination, the capital of Lo Monthang. KB has promised it will only take 4 hours and not be so difficult. </div>
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Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-65657223033765438052014-05-16T18:15:00.001-07:002014-06-01T17:13:53.102-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 2...Difficult, Dusty, Painful...but Worth It<div>
Chhusang to Syanboche...8 1/2 hours, 16 miles, 5000 feet verticle climbing </div>
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<b><i>"Since leaving Jomsom, we have heard no motor, nor anything except the cry of birds, the click of hooves and quiet blowing of the horses, the bells, the yells and whistles of the hostlers, the silent echo in the wake of an ancient boulder that loses its hold on its sandstone niche of fifty million years and tumbles down the wind-worn walls with distant thunder"....</i>Peter Mattiessen, "East of Monthang", 1995</b></div>
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Whew! Today was a really tough one. It was a 16 mile hike (or thereabouts, measurements don't mean that much here) of over 8 1/2 hours. We did a total of 5000 feet of climbing which, at altitudes of 11,000 and 12,500 feet, is exhausting. But it was well worth the pain and fatigue everyone went through. We did an especially difficult hike with a lot of ups and downs, because we wanted to see the Ranchung Gompa, a Buddhist cave where a solitary lama has been living for decades. </div>
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We started out in Chhusang, the little town we had dinner in last night. From here we hiked 1/2 hour to a huge rock wall, which is the end of the wide part of the Kali Gandaki River Valley. Then the trail started up a very steep hill. In a few minutes we were walking through the little town of Chele, with nice people, all greeting us with "Namaste". </div>
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The hill continued up, up, up and up some more...a total of 2,000 vertical feet. But what a great trail. There were parts that were quite scary, as the trail was very narrow at times and if you took a misstep you would fall about 1500 feet down. Part of the trail was carved right through the hillside, with a giant overhang. But the best part was the views. From several viewpoints you could see the entire Annapurna mountain range. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. A huge, long mountain range, with peaks over 25,000 feet high, covered in eternal snow, and below them the stark desert of Mustang with the occasional white village hanging precariously on the edge of a 1000 foot cliff, prayer flags fluttering in the wind. </div>
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This was the point in the trek where we went from the low river valley up to the edge of the Tibetan Plateau. From here, the Plateau stretches all the way to Mongolia, thousands of miles distant. </div>
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Finally, after 3 1/2 hours we reached our lunch destination, Samar. I had my new favorite dish, Thenduk, a hearty noodle soup with vegetables. It's a perfect meal for a long day of trekking. </div>
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So we decided we wanted to see this Buddhist cave, called Ranchung Gompa <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">(the 'Royal We', as it was really me who wanted to see it)</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">. To get there, unfortunately, you have to get off the main trail, go down a few hundred feet, then you go right back up a steep, windy, rocky trail. After that, you cross a wide valley with very old junipers and then go up another steep path. There were some amazing old, twisted trees, looking 1,000 years old or more. At one point we saw a couple sitting under one, he a Buddhist monk, she a woman maybe his mother, sister, who knows? From the top, after a 1,000 foot climb, you get an absolutely amazing view of the entire Annapurna range, including the Kali Gandaki valley, way back where we had come from yesterday. It seemed very far away. Then you go down, down, down a very steep, windy path another 1200 feet in another canyon, with incredible rock formations everywhere, then climb another 300 feet to his cave. The walk was spectacular, with views of all the mountains. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">At the top,of the big pass...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">A little windy on top of this pass, so I concocted a 'keep the hat on your head' contraption...</span></div>
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A little tired...</div>
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Along the way we saw lots of old knarly trees, which was surprising in this desert. There were a lot of goats and goat herders and the occasional mule train (consisting of mules, donkeys and horses). We finally got to the cave and wouldn't you know it, the lama was out. </div>
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But we were able to go in the cave anyway to meditate and reflect on our journey and loved ones left at home. It was beautiful inside, with lots of prayer flags and thankas. It was here, according to local legend, that Guru Rimpche received enlightenment. </div>
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After another steep 1200 foot climb up a narrow, rocky valley we made it to our destination, Syanboche, a tiny town consisting of about 5 houses. We had an early dinner and have gone to bed, as KB has said tomorrow is almost as difficult. Oy veh!</div>
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Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-9660965209268099812014-05-15T20:29:00.001-07:002014-06-01T17:07:46.824-07:00Mustang Trek, Day 1...Fossils and Wind!<div>
Mustang, Day 1...7 1/2 hours, 13 miles. Maximum altitude, 10,000 feet. </div>
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<i>"…the Kali Gandaki has the deepest canyon in the world. Kali signifies "black female" or "dark woman", and it is true that its steep walls, gray torrent, and black boulders give a hellish darkness to the river that, rumbling down out of hidden peaks and vast clouds of unknowing, has filled the traveler with dread since the first human tried to cross and was born away"…</i>.Peter Matthiessen, "The Snow Leopard", 1978</div>
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We have arrived in Chhussang, after a 7 1/2 hour, 13 mile trek from Jomson. We are in the Kali Gandaki river valley, the deepest canyon in the world. Himalayan peaks tower above us, 16,000 feet or more from the valley floor. </div>
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We started the morning with a flight from Pokhara to Jomson, a 25 minute ride in a plane that I swear was of World War II vintage. It's a twin engine prop plane. I was in the front seat and got some great views of the cockpit and the pilot's instruments, which looked pretty basic and old. We quickly rose from the Pokhara airport and flew right up the Kali Gandaki valley with giant Himalayan peaks on either side. We flew up, up, up until we made a very slight descent and were on the tarmac at Jomson. We gathered our gear and went to the Hotel Tilicho for a coffee and a beautiful view of the peaks of Nilgiri and Tilicho. </div>
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Our flight on the Twin Otter...</div>
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By 8:00 we were off on the trek, soon hiking on the wide Kali Gandaki flood plain. At this time of year there is very little water, but the flood plain is about a kilometer wide and it must be amazing when the valley is filled with water. The walls of the valley are a geologist's dream. Sedimentary layers that 150 million years ago were at the bottom of the sea have been buckled to almost verticle by the great geologic forces that created these mountains. </div>
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We start our trek...</div>
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The first three hours were along the river and by 11 we made our first stop at Kagbeni, a fairly big town and a crossroad where pilgrims are going to the Hindu pilgrimage site of Muktunah. By now the famous wind had come up. This is the daily wind that blows through the Kali Gandaki from the south. It starts around 10 am as a gentle breeze and by 2 pm it's howling at about 50 to 80 miles per hour. It's a real hold onto your hat kind of wind. There are places along the trail where you are protected, but others where you really have to be careful you don't get pushed over the cliff. The trail here is mostly along a dirt road and there are some trucks and motorcycles, but very few. </div>
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Kali Gandaki valley...</div>
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One thing that was unusual was that we were trekking with a very large group of soldiers that were on a training mission up to a town north of here. There were probably 300 or so soldiers, all very nice, saying "Namaste" as we passed them when they were resting. The only scary part was as they passed you all their guns were pointed right at us. This was just how they carried them, they really didn't mean anything by it. KB assured us they probably weren't loaded, but we couldn't be sure. </div>
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For lunch, we stopped in Kagbeni. I had a tasty chicken in a chili ginger sauce and french fries. Nance and Trina had mo mos and soup. Quite tasty. There was also a Hindu temple here, where people came to bathe in the river and pray to their ancestors. </div>
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From here we headed up the valley, climbing up to 10,000 feet. We were followed by a black dog, who we named Toto. For some reason he liked our little group and was our constant companion all the way to Chhussang. We went up, we went down. We passed some really nice villages and along the whole way we looked up to giant Himalayan peaks towering above us. The wind was constantly at our back pushing us along. I had to really press my hat onto my head, otherwise it would fly off and tumble down 1,000 feet to the valley floor. I wasn't ready to donate my hat to the trekking gods quite yet. After one big hill we stopped by an abandoned tea house for a rest. I handed around some dark chocolate we had gotten at Ikea (of all places), of which I had brought many bars. It was my intention to have a chocolate reward after a big pass. </div>
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Crossing the great Kali Gandaki...</div>
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The start of Upper Mustang, out of Kagbeni. Only those with "special" permits may pass...</div>
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Many people passed us along the way and everyone was very nice, saying "Namaste" to us. This is a lovely greeting, simply meaning, "I salute the god within you". What could be nicer?</div>
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At one point, after coming down a very steep hillside, we came to a creek that wasn't all that wide, but was roaring down the valley pretty fast. Our porters plus our guides, Nirajan and KB, picked up huge rocks and plopped them in the stream so we could walk across. These rocks quickly tumbled down the stream bed because the water was moving so fast. So they got even bigger rocks, plopped them down in the stream and then we could walk across. I was the first one over and ended up walking in the stream, getting my boots and socks totally wet and filled with river sand. Trina and Nance did better, still having dry socks after they crossed. Sheila and Ron did as well as I. </div>
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Crossing a muddy creek...</div>
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Little villages dot the landscape...</div>
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In a tea house...</div>
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Strange rock formations are everywhere...</div>
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The landscape we passed was out of another world. Whole hillsides have been shaped by the wind, resulting in naturally carved pillared stones and gigantic ribs of sandstone. It's amazing to think that we were walking on an ancient sea bed, but the proof is the ammonites. All over this river valley you can find ammonites, 150 million year old sea creatures that are found hidden in small black rocks. When you take a hammer or chisel to them, they break at the weak point, revealing a spiral fossil. It's incredible to find these fossils at 10,000 feet above sea level, knowing that this place was far under the sea at one point, teaming with creatures. </div>
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We walked further up the valley, passing more villages and holding onto our hats. Finally, about 5:30 we made it to Chussang, a tiny village with a nice little tea house. I had a room with a great view of the Kali Gandaki and the tall peaks. There is no electricity except in the sitting area where we had drinks and dinner. I had a tasty meal of mo mos and tenduk, a wonderful thick chicken soup with noodles and vegetables. Best of all, they had cold beer, very welcome after a long, dusty, hard day. The nicest surprise here was a hot shower, run with one of those instant hot water machines. Pure bliss getting all the grit off of my body!</div>
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Nirajan, KB, and our porters...</div>
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Although this day was hard, the next two days are supposed to be even harder. But all worth it in this amazing place of Upper Mustang!</div>
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Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-90465615978399076062014-05-06T04:23:00.001-07:002014-05-06T05:56:10.096-07:00Pokhara Paradise<div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><i>"I would never think of smoking in a house or in a monastery, which is 'very sinful'. As for whistling in a house, this is also very shocking - as ghosts will come".</i>..Michel Piessel, "Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom", 1967</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><br></div><div>We are now in the lovely town of Pokhara in the foothills of the Himalaya. This is the starting point for many treks, including Anapura, Dopro and Mustang. It is a gorgeous place, right on beautiful Lake Fewa. The air here is clean, fresh and cool. This morning the town was totally empty with no traffic at all, a welcome change after the madness of Kathmandu. </div><div><br></div><div>The flight here was 35 minutes in a turbo prop plane. The Kathmandu domestic airport was great; a very vintage looking place where you feel Humphrey Bogart will appear any minute. It was crazy in the checkin area, with lots of Trekkers and locals. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-z9hefpf9-2M/U2jFwJYXenI/AAAAAAAAjKs/573XLwyOtAM/s640/blogger-image-1068702385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-z9hefpf9-2M/U2jFwJYXenI/AAAAAAAAjKs/573XLwyOtAM/s640/blogger-image-1068702385.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nance, me, Trina, Sheila and Ron. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-deFE8D1lu84/U2jGAYRhs3I/AAAAAAAAjLc/JU5quBmLakI/s640/blogger-image--1677586142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-deFE8D1lu84/U2jGAYRhs3I/AAAAAAAAjLc/JU5quBmLakI/s640/blogger-image--1677586142.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Cq1xbUjYavM/U2jGFo9azNI/AAAAAAAAjLs/3ReGG0ACOoY/s640/blogger-image--903846996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Cq1xbUjYavM/U2jGFo9azNI/AAAAAAAAjLs/3ReGG0ACOoY/s640/blogger-image--903846996.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The flight itself was very nice and at a cruising altitude of only 12,000 feet you really felt you were flying, not in outer space like you do on a jet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CrEmqTtSrUo/U2jGHxTrAeI/AAAAAAAAjL0/IB6nXQKl6M8/s640/blogger-image-932749068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CrEmqTtSrUo/U2jGHxTrAeI/AAAAAAAAjL0/IB6nXQKl6M8/s640/blogger-image-932749068.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iK_ZrfnZ7mc/U2jF4pPALtI/AAAAAAAAjLE/pKGS5Awh83Q/s640/blogger-image--1684821574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iK_ZrfnZ7mc/U2jF4pPALtI/AAAAAAAAjLE/pKGS5Awh83Q/s640/blogger-image--1684821574.jpg"></a></div><br></div>After a nice lunch right on the lake, where I had a fried lake fish and of course an Everest beer, we took a really nice boat ride, a big row boat where we saw the lake with many paragliders overhead. That's a big thing here in addition to lots of ultralight planes. We even got blessed at a Hindu temple on a tiny island in the lake. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-emZS4VnARcg/U2jF163rxoI/AAAAAAAAjK8/Vy22n52O8C0/s640/blogger-image--1922635263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-emZS4VnARcg/U2jF163rxoI/AAAAAAAAjK8/Vy22n52O8C0/s640/blogger-image--1922635263.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QkyKCzY60gs/U2jF97V3BFI/AAAAAAAAjLU/V3WjpRDM7Xw/s640/blogger-image-1355859737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QkyKCzY60gs/U2jF97V3BFI/AAAAAAAAjLU/V3WjpRDM7Xw/s640/blogger-image-1355859737.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-At8dOF2CWxo/U2jF7Zl7AeI/AAAAAAAAjLM/3nzlEZyPc5E/s640/blogger-image--129070749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-At8dOF2CWxo/U2jF7Zl7AeI/AAAAAAAAjLM/3nzlEZyPc5E/s640/blogger-image--129070749.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Trina, Nance and our guides K.B. And Nirajan (with tongue). </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-mUQ3hWiLztg/U2jGOS6GT3I/AAAAAAAAjME/piEsubjxjxQ/s640/blogger-image-930933337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-mUQ3hWiLztg/U2jGOS6GT3I/AAAAAAAAjME/piEsubjxjxQ/s640/blogger-image-930933337.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_nPegWLTzcw/U2jFqbcaGWI/AAAAAAAAjKc/2zzJRX__qdo/s640/blogger-image-443412963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_nPegWLTzcw/U2jFqbcaGWI/AAAAAAAAjKc/2zzJRX__qdo/s640/blogger-image-443412963.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Q4V8uxSLHDk/U2jFn-xwYOI/AAAAAAAAjKU/iBowZvC5p0g/s640/blogger-image--1223660984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Q4V8uxSLHDk/U2jFn-xwYOI/AAAAAAAAjKU/iBowZvC5p0g/s640/blogger-image--1223660984.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-eftUP30AxBE/U2jFtTL6VBI/AAAAAAAAjKk/WdPmmLSANe0/s640/blogger-image-1475968186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-eftUP30AxBE/U2jFtTL6VBI/AAAAAAAAjKk/WdPmmLSANe0/s640/blogger-image-1475968186.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NZNV-P9N-mw/U2jGDOe26wI/AAAAAAAAjLk/GP7v5WNdDbg/s640/blogger-image-555090810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NZNV-P9N-mw/U2jGDOe26wI/AAAAAAAAjLk/GP7v5WNdDbg/s640/blogger-image-555090810.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>This will be my last blog for at least five days, maybe 11. We fly (or drive if the weather is be) tomorrow to Jomson and then start the trek, starting up the deepest canyon in the world along the Kali Gandaki river. Wish us luck and send us your good thoughts. We will need all the extra good energy possible!</div><div><br></div><div>Rare Tibetan turquoise. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1o7TmjJam_c/U2jGLPUtzqI/AAAAAAAAjL8/DWDz53FdIoA/s640/blogger-image--164425379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1o7TmjJam_c/U2jGLPUtzqI/AAAAAAAAjL8/DWDz53FdIoA/s640/blogger-image--164425379.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Street of Pokhara...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-l_92uAYYMUE/U2jFy7nlqNI/AAAAAAAAjK0/JhUk1w6qG14/s640/blogger-image--1689483728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-l_92uAYYMUE/U2jFy7nlqNI/AAAAAAAAjK0/JhUk1w6qG14/s640/blogger-image--1689483728.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-45952988102275748952014-05-04T03:27:00.001-07:002014-05-05T06:06:09.826-07:00Kathmandu<i><b>"It's a dangerous road, Frodo, going out your door", said Bilbo, "you step into the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you may be swept off to."...J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Lord of the Rings".</b></i><div><i><b><br></b></i></div><div>After a rather uneventful flight to Beijing and Chengdu, the trip to Kathmandu started off with a scare. In San Francisco, the Air China check in lady said I could check my big red roller all the way to Kathmandu. But when I got to the check in counter in Chengdu, the lady there looked at my ticket with a wide stare then started speaking into her walkie talkie in a tone I could only describe as stressed. She then looked at me and said you can't check your bag all the way through to Kathmandu, it's sitting in Terminal 2 and you have to go get it. Now, Chengdu is a big airport and Terminal 2 is close to a kilometer away from where I was, Terminal 1. So I had to run over there, with my carryon on my back, find where my bag was, ask directions where no one speaks english, somehow find where the bag was, get it, then run back to Terminal 1 and check it in, and go through security (no lines!!). I think I may have slightly strained my hamstring by doing this, but I made it with about 10 minutes to spare. By the time I reached the gate I was sweating like the perverbial pig. Whew!! Let's hope that's the only scary part of the trip. </div><div><br></div><div>Mt Everest (I think) from the plane. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-EGwFBwR2Q9Q/U2YWB0EyyMI/AAAAAAAAjH8/CBAl_S1Z3X8/s640/blogger-image--63872630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-EGwFBwR2Q9Q/U2YWB0EyyMI/AAAAAAAAjH8/CBAl_S1Z3X8/s640/blogger-image--63872630.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>And coincidentally, shortly after,</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-iGwbLT5Msn8/U2a0m5iaY1I/AAAAAAAAjIg/OQqD14BHo48/s640/blogger-image-1579757697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-iGwbLT5Msn8/U2a0m5iaY1I/AAAAAAAAjIg/OQqD14BHo48/s640/blogger-image-1579757697.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Arrived in Kathmandu on time, but my guide Nirajan was stuck in traffic. So got to hang around some of the local guides who were at the airport and had a good time with them. Nirajan showed up and drove me to our nice hotel, the Manaslu. It's near the Royal Palace. After a quick lunch of veggie curry, I went to the Thamel area. This is an old part of town with lots of really cool shops selling Nepalese jewelry, antiques, cashmere scarves and sweaters and really fine quality thankas. Lots of tourists there, mostly young euros who still believe in hippies, if you know what I mean. The local shopkeepers are really nice and aren't too high pressure like in other parts of the world. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A1abBUWHHeg/U2YV6aHjueI/AAAAAAAAjHc/did98nNrxzo/s640/blogger-image-1760685653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A1abBUWHHeg/U2YV6aHjueI/AAAAAAAAjHc/did98nNrxzo/s640/blogger-image-1760685653.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-PigFCPLEK3E/U2YV-f2xtOI/AAAAAAAAjHs/oQ4DDqFzK2s/s640/blogger-image-595817061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-PigFCPLEK3E/U2YV-f2xtOI/AAAAAAAAjHs/oQ4DDqFzK2s/s640/blogger-image-595817061.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>In Peru, baby llama is the wool of choice, but here in Nepal...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-3qiPTtGmItE/U2YV8u1hXTI/AAAAAAAAjHk/w_xHC4zjsz8/s640/blogger-image--447075823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-3qiPTtGmItE/U2YV8u1hXTI/AAAAAAAAjHk/w_xHC4zjsz8/s640/blogger-image--447075823.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>And then there was this little oddity...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-n-v5skwXHJA/U2YWAToxzVI/AAAAAAAAjH0/UQJGSeSbO8Y/s640/blogger-image-2024405291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-n-v5skwXHJA/U2YWAToxzVI/AAAAAAAAjH0/UQJGSeSbO8Y/s640/blogger-image-2024405291.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>After an almost equally long trip, Nance and Trina arrived. In the evening we were taken to a "Welcome dinner" hosted by our two guides, Nirajan and K.B. The dinner consisted of some tasty Nepalese delicacies, all served on a big metal plate surrounding a mound of rice. There were fried potatoes, mo-mos (a dumpling), curry vegetables, curry chicken, wild boar (my favorite), a spinach dish, dahl, and lentil soup. During dinner we were entertained with some local music and dance. One of the dances was a guy dressed in a peacock suit, his arm extended out as the head of the peacock, which he used to grab small bills from the audience. That was by far the most entertaining part. </div><div><br></div><div>Monday, the second day in Kathmandu, was a tour of the city's historic district. First we went to the famous Boudanath temple, a huge Buddhist stupa that was built in the 1st Century. This is the famous white stupa that supposedly has a piece of the Buddha's backbone somewhere inside (most of the important Buddhist buildings usually have to have a piece of the Buddha somewhere in them). Here there were many pilgrims going around the stupa turning the prayer wheels. Both scions must always be clockwise. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PZQglIYFLsw/U2eJrY-ebWI/AAAAAAAAjI4/QSmh-gTzUqw/s640/blogger-image--1545095546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PZQglIYFLsw/U2eJrY-ebWI/AAAAAAAAjI4/QSmh-gTzUqw/s640/blogger-image--1545095546.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-topIL3CaIgA/U2eJi-tZ6II/AAAAAAAAjIw/PSXoAgNvrU8/s640/blogger-image--702180362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-topIL3CaIgA/U2eJi-tZ6II/AAAAAAAAjIw/PSXoAgNvrU8/s640/blogger-image--702180362.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1OkoitmgEoE/U2eKJr1nbdI/AAAAAAAAjJI/G6ZWplGcKZk/s640/blogger-image--469564032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1OkoitmgEoE/U2eKJr1nbdI/AAAAAAAAjJI/G6ZWplGcKZk/s640/blogger-image--469564032.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GOy5vIbm9zc/U2eKC9kS0BI/AAAAAAAAjJA/yOld-VYswXE/s640/blogger-image--2062861358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GOy5vIbm9zc/U2eKC9kS0BI/AAAAAAAAjJA/yOld-VYswXE/s640/blogger-image--2062861358.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Imba_yoI4Cs/U2eLVOyvSWI/AAAAAAAAjJU/7aQa6TRHBhA/s640/blogger-image--1914351563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Imba_yoI4Cs/U2eLVOyvSWI/AAAAAAAAjJU/7aQa6TRHBhA/s640/blogger-image--1914351563.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>Next up on our whirlwind tour of Kathmandu was the Swayambhu temple, another 5th Century Buddhist temple. This one is on a hilltop with a gorgeous view of Kathmandu Valley. At this temple there are many monkeys hanging out, hassling tourists. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-81oW-09qDFA/U2eLZSVDpRI/AAAAAAAAjJc/2DS0BljWQHg/s640/blogger-image--1090722153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-81oW-09qDFA/U2eLZSVDpRI/AAAAAAAAjJc/2DS0BljWQHg/s640/blogger-image--1090722153.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mITUu4SPpl8/U2eLdWGqO1I/AAAAAAAAjJk/PDT55O07HDQ/s640/blogger-image--2003625258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mITUu4SPpl8/U2eLdWGqO1I/AAAAAAAAjJk/PDT55O07HDQ/s640/blogger-image--2003625258.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Our last stop was Durbar square, with many temples, palaces and pidgeons. I'm not sure what the Nepalese love for pigeons is all about, but there are a lot of them here. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ia_aKUh6iwY/U2eMgqcobrI/AAAAAAAAjJ0/fCJBUW9UYH0/s640/blogger-image-880639565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ia_aKUh6iwY/U2eMgqcobrI/AAAAAAAAjJ0/fCJBUW9UYH0/s640/blogger-image-880639565.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-t2cUsGuaZaQ/U2eMXjq8NiI/AAAAAAAAjJs/fgu9xlbqDrg/s640/blogger-image-964440753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-t2cUsGuaZaQ/U2eMXjq8NiI/AAAAAAAAjJs/fgu9xlbqDrg/s640/blogger-image-964440753.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-chnGJSL4vC8/U2eMuBawfcI/AAAAAAAAjKE/KEA--52HQb8/s640/blogger-image--1442679486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-chnGJSL4vC8/U2eMuBawfcI/AAAAAAAAjKE/KEA--52HQb8/s640/blogger-image--1442679486.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div>Me and a Gurkha. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qgstNi6QTDk/U2eMlK6u8_I/AAAAAAAAjJ8/Ls3Bia7ZTns/s640/blogger-image--967415750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qgstNi6QTDk/U2eMlK6u8_I/AAAAAAAAjJ8/Ls3Bia7ZTns/s640/blogger-image--967415750.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805290689075354232.post-38975159462219806282014-04-22T08:34:00.000-07:002014-05-02T06:51:22.740-07:00Off To The Land Of Lo<div class="MsoNormal">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px;"><i>“Once the travel bug bites there is no known antidote, and I know that I shall be happily infected until the end of my life”</i> ― Michael Palin</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">On the other side of the world, in the country of
Nepal and in the rain shadow of the great Himalayan range, lies a land long forbidden to foreigners, a secret world untouched for centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an ancient Buddhist
kingdom on the high Tibetan plateau.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
is known by its local name as The Land of Lo and the locals are called Lo
Bas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But a European mapmaker misspelled
the name of the capital city, Lo Monthang, and called this place Mustang (pronounced Moos-tahng). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The last surviving relics of an ancient world are found here; the Buddhist monasteries of old Tibet. </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">This is the one of the few places in the world where
Tibetan Buddhism is practiced in its original setting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because Mustang is in Nepal, the Chinese
didn’t come here and destroy the temples and kill the priests, as they did in
Tibet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So in Mustang you have Buddhist temples
that are six or seven hundred years old with original fresco Buddhist art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Painted at the same time as Michelangelo and
Leonardo, some of these paintings are considered masterpieces and are comparable
to the great Italian frescos of that era.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">From Brown University's website on Tibetan wall paintings</span></b><span style="font-size: 19px;"><b>…</b></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 19px;">"The Mustang paintings are of inestimable value and significance; among the world's finest Buddhist wall paintings, they are rare surviving exemplars of the classical period of Tibetan Buddhist art. Following the Chinese invasion of Tibet and during the subsequent Cultural Revolution, Tibet's future was subjected to massive and brutal assault. The destruction of temples and </span></b><span style="font-size: 19px;"><b>monasteries was wholesale; from one end of Tibet's vast expanse to the other, sacred statues were smashed, murals defaced or obliterated, and entire monasteries razed, in a deliberate attempt to destroy an entire culture. Fortunately, the Tibetan cultural world and its sphere of influence extends beyond the borders of Tibet, into Bhutan and Sikkim, bordering regions of Nepal and India, and Mongolia. Although it is now part of Nepal, Mustang was formerly a small, independent Tibetan kingdom; it appears on the map as a thumb-shaped protrusion, breaking through the Himalayan wall into Tibet."</b></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Until 1993, foreigners were not allowed into
Mustang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This had to do with the Tibetan
invasion, wars and just the fact that Nepal didn’t want foreigners there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The exception to this was our old friend,
Michel Piessel, who wrote the book about Quintana Roo that we talked about in
our Yucatan blog last fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Piessel
spent a few months here in 1963 and wrote about it in a wonderful book,
“Mustang, The Forbidden Kingdom”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
Mustang isn’t forbidden anymore, but very few tourists come here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most trekkers in Nepal go to the Everest Base
Camp or the Annapurna Circuit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you
have to get a special permit to go to Mustang and that, along with the fact
that it’s a high desert and not the usual Himalayan scenery, puts a lot of
trekkers off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much the better for us!</span></b><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">About 5 years ago, Amy and I saw a program about
Mustang on PBS and put it down as a place we would like to go to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, there was no road in Mustang and
the only way you could get through this area was to walk, ride a horse or fly a
helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now, the Chinese are
building a road that may be finished in a few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This road will connect China, which lies just
north of Mustang, with Kathmandu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
old ways of Mustang are sure to disappear when the road is finished, so we
figured now is the time to go.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Being in the rain shadow of the Himalaya, Mustang gets
very little rain and is a high desert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We will be trekking between 10,000 and 14,000 feet above sea level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is very little water…a river runs
though Mustang that consists of runoff from glaciers way up in the
mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will have a couple of
guides and horses will carry our gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Showers and WiFi will probably be non existent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, if everyone smells bad it’s probably
not that big a deal, right?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Amy’s cousin, Nance, and Nance’s daughter, Trina, decided
to join us and we thought that we would have a joyous time with the four of us
on a guided 15 day trek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arranged the
trek last fall and all was set up.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then, as many of you know, Amy came down with a rare
neurological disorder, called Myasthenia Gravis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the first year or two of contracting this
disease, a person can’t go anywhere where there is no modern medicine, as it is
possible that you could need a hospital at any time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So after much figuring out what the heck to
do, we decided that I would go ahead on this great journey and Amy would spend the time home with friends. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">So off I go, traveling without my darling Amy for the
first time since we have known each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will meet Nance and Trina in Kathmandu, as I am flying west through
China, and they are flying east through Dubai.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The journey will last about 20 days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of days in Kathmandu, then on to
Pokhra and then to the starting point of the trek, Jomson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Jomson, we will trek for five days up to
Lo Monthang, stay a day there, and then trek back to Jomson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the way, we will be staying in small villages,
at local tea houses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will visit
ancient temples, walk through the deepest canyon in the world, see some of the
most amazing landscape anywhere and just immerse ourselves in a totally
different and exotic place.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">So as always, you are invited to come along on this
adventure as we continue searching the world for the beautiful, amazing,
colorful, exotic and just plain fun.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
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Craig and Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14877128988346005851noreply@blogger.com0