Morning at Lama Hotel held the hope of a fresh beginning after my dramatic escapades of the previous evening. There is such a gratefulness & joy for little things in life after you’ve escaped the big things that can go wrong.
We had alot of walking and climbing ahead of us and were eager to experience our first glimpse of the snow capped peaks. The trail grew more rocky now as we started to climb above the tree line.
Now the valley opened wide to reveal a pasture filled with Yaks. Yes, yaks affectionate looking big hairy cows. They were high altitude beast and could only live comfortably around 10,000 feet.
Showers had not been possible in the cramped Guest Houses with no running water, but to our surprise nature organized one for us. Around mid day we came across the most perfect 15 foot water fall in an isolated spot.
Kirsten decide that icy water was better then no shower at all. With the sun at it apex it was now or literally never. I stood guard, but this area was sparely populated so there was not a soul in site. She stripped down to her natural self and screamed with shock and delight as the frigid water careened over her. It was somehow beautiful and wild, but I wasn’t going to shower myself. Call me boring, but her screams and shivers were somewhat convincing. I’ll just stay dirty.
We had left our hiking companions Rob & Julie at Lama Hotel as they preferred a much slow accent. I was a type “A” hiker and loved to charge up the trail as fast as I could walk. Then, after some distance I got exhausted and would find a place to rest to wait for my tortoise companion Kirsten to arrive. Kirsten never stopped to rest. She just padded along at her steady pace with little steps. This balance allowed both of us to feel free along the trail to walk in our own manner. It also gave us some alone time with nature and our thoughts.
Something about spending all day and everyday walking in the mountains rekindles your primal nature. It was as if the modern world had no place here. Only flowers, birds, and sky existed as I meandered along the ever-changing trail.
On the path; there were different kinds of tribal groups. About every 3-4 hours we would go through a small collection of huts that formed a sort of village not on any map. These were populated mostly by Tibetans or Tamang tribal people. All the locals would greet us pleasantly with a smile and a NAMASTE folding their hands in the prayer position. It was inspiring.
I remember around one bend came a group of a few Herdsmen moving at a brisk pace. I said Namaste as they passed by. Since I was walking slightly ahead of Kirsten and I would always drop back to make sure she was safe when we past groups of men.
Just as I came in earshot I heard it! Kirsten said: “Namaste” and one of the Herdsmen said quietly and very shyly: “Namaste Sexy Mama.” It was a total surprise, since these guys typically don’t speak English at all. We laughed and laughed. I could only imagine that some mischievous trekker had taught him this phrase.
Our next cultural encounter was with a young Tamang boy around 12 years old. He started behind as as we traversed an irrigated field near a few farm huts. He asked: “You want hashish?” I said “No” and walked on. He followed and asked again: “You want hashish?” “No”, I said and walked on. Now the game begins. He thought I was bargaining. Naturally all trekkers want hashish. It is unheard of that they wouldn’t. I must have just been a good bargainer.
We walked. He followed. Only 500 Rupees per tola (10 grams). We ignore him. Only 200 Rupees. We ignore him. “How much you give?” he asks. Finally to get rid of him I say an outrageously small number: “30 Rupees.” “No.”, he continues: “100 Rupees OK?, 50 Rupees, OK 30 Rupees.
Oh my God!!! I have accidentally bought 10 grams of hashish. Oh well, what to do? More surprisingly when he opens his bag he pulls out a chunk of hash weighing about 10 pound. Chop chop swiftly with his knife he takes off a finger size piece and hands it to me. My mouth is gapping. Thing are sure different around here.
We walk along narrow paths through the sparely populated valley around some small planted fields. Then once again the trail evolves into a different venue. It becomes step with a far valley below and our first glimpse at snow capped mountain in the distance.
It’s such a wonder to view these enormous mountains with their snowy peaks. I was so exalted that my whole being became an inner smile. It opened me up inside to the simple beauty of life. I felt light. The top of my head seem to lift off with an AH-HA experience. It put things in prospective. In nature, there is no problem seeing the truth. It’s just there in front of you and it’s everything you need or want or could ever want. So simple.
As we wound around the valley we passed small villages. Each had some little guest houses and around 3 PM Kirsten suggested we grab one for the night. The latest you want to hike is about 4 PM, because when the sun goes behind the surrounding mountains it’s gets cold and a thick mist rise up to shroud everything.
On this topic, we had alittle heated debate. I wanted to chance making it to a small Tibetan Temple marked on our map. Kirsten wanted to quit early in one of the villages to savor the Himalayas at a slower pace. An argument insued and I stormed ahead on the trail to walk off my anger.
My anger channeled into a vigorous pace that got me to the remote guest house near the Temple in record time, but I arrive at dusk and my companion was still quite a distance down the mountain.
Ut-Oh, suddenly the argument had transformed into a dangerous situation. As the twilight mist was already floating up the valley I got worried. It would be very dark soon. I ask a Tibetan woman who came up the path if she had seen Kirsten. She understood my concern. I could see in her eyes a compassionate sympathy, but she spoke no english. She could tell me nothing
Against my better judgment, I left my backpack with strangers at the guest house and catapulted down the trail. Dusk was very close and I ran like I’ve never run before. I was lightning. I was a deer or an antelope bouncing from rock to rock. I was racing against time. My heart pounded in my chest. The light got dimmer. The mist was coming.
A couple miles down the bank I found Kirsten somewhat paralyzed and cationic along the trail leaning on an embankment. She had a panic attack with dark approaching and the empty trail. I didn’t have time to feel guilty or apologize. I just put on her backpack and grab her hand to get back to the lodge.
Almost in a dream I towed her along the winding trail in the half light. She was breathing unsteadily. The altitude was difficult for both of us. We stumbled and ran as best we could. The fatigue was overcome by the fear. If darkness came we would be absolutely lost. The cool damp mist was already surrounding us and obscuring the trail ahead.
We made it. In the dimmest of lights we arrived at our shelter. Mist all around now. I could barely see the path we had just arrived from.
Whew. We sat down wheezing and traumatized at the small wood table in the guest house. That desperate run in the thin air had caught up with us. It was hard to breathe.
Our kind Tibetan host brought us in for hot tea by the warm hearth. The Tibetan woman in the guest house sensing what was need started to brush Kristen’s hair. She then oiled her hair with yak butter and braided it.
It was such a pleasant domestic activity that we both calmed down into the quite Himalayan evening. The Tibetan host started some Dhal Bhat for dinner and we relaxed in safety and comfort.
Later, our host became quite animated over the offering of a can of peaches. He had apparently saved it for some trekkers, but it was quite expensive. About 50 Rupees (75 cents). Expensive by local standards. So, he would never open it just for his family.
He was so excited about this little can that I agreed to pay for some. They didn’t have a can opener, so I offered my knife. He didn’t seem to quite get the knife opener an broke off the tip of my blade. Oh well, part of the advenuture I suppose. I retrieve the knife and proceeded to open it with the other blade opener.
Mmmmmm,….. not! Those were the worst peaches I have ever eaten, but not for our Tibetan host. They relished their portion as a find delicacy. Oh well, good for them.
Next, our host was showing us some of the fine improvements he had made to the lodge. I didn’t quite get it at first. Their was a plastic bread wrapper covering the one window. Could it be that otherwise the window is always open?
We were at a pretty high altitude now and our host offered us a thick yak wool comforter to go on top of our thin sleeping bags. I looked around and only saw one comforter, so I refused to take it. No I said, you should keep it for your family. Then with his broken english and sign language, he convinced us that they didn’t need it. They would sleep together next to the adobe hearth which was quite toasty. OK, how could I refuse. We were already freezing and the night had only begun.
Outside the icy Himalayan wind began to howl as it penetrated the wood and stone hut were we stayed. Snuggling under the yak wool and our sleeping bags the evening faded into silence.
I am the original Himalayan Trader. I go to Asia to do adventure travel, meditation, & trading. The Himalayan Traders is from the ‘Small Is Beautiful’ lifestyle philosophy. In Buddhist thought, Right Livelihood is considered essential for the layman’s spiritual path. As a Buddhist layperson, I have tried to embody this ideal through The Himalayan Traders.
To support the intrepid spiritual wandering I have created the Himalayan Traders (www.himalayantraders.com) Most of our goods come from the Royal Kingdom of Nepal. In ancient times, large parts of Nepal were Tibetan territories, so the cultures are blended quite alot. The mountain people are generally Buddhist while the people of Kathmandu valley are a mix of Buddhist & Hindu. Out of this rich texture of religion and tribal culture I have been trading for 15 years mostly with small family run business. Come check us out at www.tibetantours.net
