High on Nepal

Our actual trek began three days after we entered Nepal. The first day’s short trek from Baglung to Beni was exhilarating as we contrasted the keen breeze and the delightful natural beauty to the grime and sweat of Gorakhpur and Sunauli, but the next day’s steep climb from Beni to Tatopani was simply overwhelming. I thought that it was only in comic books that one inched along a narrow cliff-face in mortal fear of falling into the distant river that ran turbidly far below. Hence I was rudely shocked to suddenly find myself on the edge of a mountain, with a sheer, rock wall on one side and thin air on the other, as I realised that one bungled step would bring me into brutal contact with the churning waters of the Kali Gandhaki rushing furiously hundreds of feet below!

Throughout life we have morosely been taught that what goes up comes down, and now we optimistically urged each other on with this philosophy, only to realise that on the mountains what goes up keeps going higher, and in the bargain, the air keeps growing thinner. Things were okay through Rupse – a brooding, melancholic hamlet surrounded by mountains and consisting of a sum total of seven houses! Even upto Kalopani and the surprisingly modern Tukche, complete with the rare luxury of electricity and satellite television, where we shamelessly gushed over a Boyzone special. But from Thomson onwards, the air started thinning subtly. At first it was barely discernible, but en route Kagbeni to Sharkot I got the sensation that I was being choked in slow motion.

Every step became a major effort, and we soon began to despair ever making it to our destination. We were all prepared to die then and there, but rather than suffer the indignity of death on an unknown, obscure mountain, we decided to put off death for something worthier, like Mount Everest. I mean, “Valiant Warriors meet hypothermic end on Everest” sounds a lot more spectacular than something like, “Unknown trekkers die of unknown ailment on unknown mountain.” Hence we reached the pilgrimage of Muktinath sufficiently alive, stared dispassionately at the much raved about 108 gowmukhs, squinted hard, to catch a glimpse of the renowned `eternal flame’ arising from an inexhaustible supply of natural gas and managed to make it back to the airport town of Shomsona in time for our flight to the city of Pokhara in a precarious 15-seater which was about half the size of a bus! It was demeaning, it had taken us 11 days to climb up, but now it took a mere 20 minutes to fly down!

I have always been skeptical of the concept of `learning through fun’ but suddenly I realised that one of the most `fun’ experiences of my life has also been one of my greatest learning experiences. The trek taught me some of the most important lessons a person can ever learn – lessons of compromise, adaptability, team spirit and cooperation, and these will linger long after the memories fade.