We’re exhausted. Three days of up and down and up and down the Kathmandu Valley led to Emily’s grand conclusion on the final steps on the journey, “We are not trekking people!”
I was glad to see she had come around to that, because I think I caught that Friday at about 3pm.
My grand conclusion from the weekend was that we learned more about one another than anything else. Our “two-day” trek – actually a two and a half day trek since that “little walk” to Nagarkot Friday involved a 6,000 foot climb – actually caused a moment of rare confusion between us.
I went because I thought it was what Emily wanted from her time in Nepal. She had talked consistently about trekking, we’re here largely for her, and it seemed to be what she was excited about.
Emily viewed the trip to Nagarkot as being something for me – because I’ve hated Kathmandu and how difficult it’s been to work here, so she felt that a weekend away, seeing the beauty of the Nepal outside the city would be what I needed and would change my view of Nepal.
It did and it didn’t. Nepal outside Kathmandu is gorgeous – and I liked infinitely better than Kathmandu. I was thrilled to be out of the city and to have a a few days without work and Internet hassles. In that way, the weekend was just what the doctor ordered.
However, I would NEVER have gone trekking left to my own devices. I’m not actually a mountains person. I never think a hike sounds fantastic. I like water, beaches, oceans. I have never lived anywhere without an ocean – because something about water is critical to me. Landlocked and mountain areas just don’t do it for me.
But we’re in Nepal.
When we got to the Farmhouse, the resort hotel in Nagarkot, one of the first things out of my mouth after seeing our room with its amazing veranda and view was, “Let’s just stay here!”
After dry heaving and nearly passing out on the way up the mountain and being sick in one way or another for most of our stay in Nepal, a restful weekend at The Farmhouse – complete with organically-grown vegetables from their mountainside gardens and the hottest, most-powerful shower we’ve had this entire trip – sounded ideal.
We had already purchased our trek and had a very nice guide to whom we would have to explain that he would get paid anyway, but we didn’t need his services anymore…. It didn’t feel right and we had already laid-in our plans.
The next morning, after our sunrise viewing of the Everest Range of the Himalayas, I was FAR from enthusiastic about trekking 7-9 hours. In the conversations, Emily said, “Look, I hate trekking too! But people come here from all over the world to do this!” as well as, “I’m doing this for you! All you have done since we’ve gotten to Nepal is complain, complain! I did this so you could get out of Kathmandu and see other parts of Nepal you can only reach on foot!”
So it was that our major disconnect began to surface.
We agreed that I would shake off the horrors of the 6,000 feet that gave me such trepidation and have a nice day. We did just that.
It wasn’t until today (Sunday) coming down a mountainside that it came out that Emily figured that since I’m not lazy or out of shape (relatively) how could I not enjoy a trek? She felt that she’s the lazy one who doesn’t want to walk places and complains when going to the gym. If I go to the gym, I just go. When we walk around places, I’m the one who wants to walk further to go and see. I’ll run more errands. And I don’t complain when breaking a sweat.
Emily had absolutely no idea why I wasn’t in constant awe and in love with the trek.
To me, the steep uphill climbs and distances to cover are challenges to be undertaken and tasks to be accomplished. I lose the forest not for the trees, but for the persistence that I put into the hard work that it takes to get from here to there.
Add in feeling badly, having digestive issues – and by the end of yesterday – a very tight IT band causing major pain in my left knee. I was all about achievement and the beauty and enjoyment sort of faded away.
Meanwhile, my wife is photographing and marveling at village life, livestock and mountains in between struggles up and down hills.
To give an example, during the 6,000 foot climb, Emily kept commenting on the beauty around us and in my head, I was remembering a chapter of Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s “Sand, Wind and Stars,” in which he told the story of his friend and flying buddy Guillaumet, who crashed his plan in the Andes and walked for days without stop until he reached Mendoza, Argentina. Guillaumet relayed that the success of his self-rescue was because he willing himself to keep walking and he thanked his heart for continuing to pump and help him.
I thought, “Well, if Guillaumet can walk his way out of the Andes, I can at least make it up this stupid hillside – even though a water buffalo and a cow just passed me.”
That’s not to say that at the top of the hill I wasn’t helping to drag my wife along or that at the end of Saturday when we were running late and walking through the mountains by moonlight (because our guide forgot a flashlight and the restaurant where we were scheduled to have lunch took an hour and a half to cook our food), Emily wasn’t exhausted and moving slowly – but she came with a different, and better outlook.
Of course, she said several times, “I forgot trekking was so hard!”
Yes it is.
All that said, Saturday and today were really very nice days. The were beautiful and sunny with gorgeous views. Our guide quickly figured out that “shortcuts” – which mean steep uphill footpaths – were not for us and that we should stick to the main trails and roads. That worked much better for us.
By Saturday afternoon, we had made it past our steep uphill segment of the day’s journey and were enjoying a leisurely downhill windy walk through a gorgeous, lush forest – talking away and laughing.
The laughing stopped when darkness came and we weren’t to our destination. Thanks to a full moon and a not very difficult road, we made it fine.
Our guesthouse in Chisapani was not the Farmhouse. It was nothing near the Farmhouse. These were people who despite having space heaters in their restaurant, refused to use them because they had two – and if they turned on one for us, then everyone would want heat, so it was best just not to heat the room at all.
The owner wouldn’t let the Nepali guides eat with the foreigners – which really pissed off a French couple I had been chatting with. They wanted to dine with their guides and found the treatment deplorable – as did we.
I won’t go into room details other than these few words – plastic pillow, breath visible inside the room, blankets not big enough and me saying to Emily, “How could YOU do this to ME?!” as I shivered in bed after my shower with my aching knee.
Sunday morning started with another steep uphill as we headed from Chisapani to Sundarijal – the end point to our trek. Steep uphills are a mood killer – but compared to the first day, it was cake. The path had stone steps and breaks between inclines since it was part of a national forest.
The Himalayas start out shrouded in cloud cover and then came out in their splendor as we neared the summit.
The several hours of downhill that followed were pleasant. We passed through forest, meadows and villages.
Emily loves villages. They are absolutely her favorite part. While I’m not such a village person (no pun intended), I enjoyed the fact that goats seemed to outnumber people everywhere. The kidds’ moms need to teach them better, because the babies always laid right out in the middle of the roads. They were kind of adorable.
Both the villages and the trails taught me a lot about poop. Nepalis keep goats largely for the poop that is used for fertilizer in the terraces and fields. Cow poop is used to make paint and to sanctify people’s homes because apparently, cow dung makes everything “clean” since its a holy animal.
Water buffalo live on the bottom of the chain, being the ones most likely killed for food or religious sacrifice. However, they too are part of the poop continuum – leaving droppings of a size I thought only elephants could produce. Toss in the fact that Nepalis are very comfortable stopping to relieve themselves on mountain trails (we watched one woman stop and urinate right in front of us) and you never know what size and shape poop you need to watch for. Anything is possible.
Of course the end result of all the poop and the people are rice and farming terraces pouring down gigantic mountainsides, looking phenomenal. Some hills are completely sculpted into terraces where little girls and women carrying bundles (sometimes exceeding 60 pounds) on their heads walk up and down hills that would leave us moaning like they were a light, breezy stroll.
I was also excited to see ferrets running in the wild, chasing one another in play. I’ve never seen that before. My friend Mazyar and I have a certain respect for animals whose names are also verbs. So, that was exciting.
I was a little less excited to see just up the road from the ferret sighting, little girls of no more than ten years-old carrying timber on their heads while another who might have been six was doing the family laundry.
All in all, while it wasn’t what I would consider a relaxing weekend, by the end we had enjoyed it and had some meaningful discussion in which we learned something about one another. Emily got to see places and things she really wanted. We both stumbled from the end of the path to the car that picked us up sore – but feeling happy and accomplished.
Now we will go to dinner and celebrate our last trek ever.
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