Trekking in the Himalayas: Giggles and Jycoos (Leeches!)

Much to our delight, Ashley (one of my college roommates) and her partner Jimmy decided to join us for the Nepal leg of our trip. Our itinerary was loosely planned; we would meet in Kathmandu, spend a day or two in the valley before seeking out trekking opportunities in Pokhara, a 5 hour bus ride from Kathmandu.

From Day 1 I was reminded that there is nothing, nothing like giggling with a dear girlfriend. A cloud of silliness consumed Ashley and I while the four of us were applying for trekking permits at the Tourist Trekking Association in Pokhara. It was the type of cheeck-aching, gasping goofiness that lasted about 25 minutes. Paul and Jimmy looked at us with curiosity and suspicion, as men do, when girlfriends or sisters engage in silliness together. Our mood was triggered by the warnings we received from a woman at the Permit Association. She asked with curiosity and concern why on earth we were in Nepal now, during monsoon, rather than in October/November when the weather and trekking were better. (This was a common piece of unsolicited advice throughout travels). She told us that the trek we planned was nice – but we would likely not see the mountains…we should come back in October. There was little water on the way and the beautiful rhododendron trees were not in bloom….we should come back in October. She warned us we would be wet…because it was not Oct/Nov. What put us over the edge was her description of the leeches that we would encounter. She said they were everywhere and that we should pack a hat and lots of salt to detract them. By the end of the conversation I was expecting leeches the size of small bats to come flying from the sky and suck our noses of. The only reasonable reaction Ashley and I had was to laugh – and to put salt on the shopping list. The giggles began.

A few hours later, equipped with approximately 1 pound of salt, iodine tablets, rented gear and a sense of adventure we felt ready to go. We were told that the trail was well marked (we just needed to follow the donkey dung) and that guesthouses were available in the many villages populated up the mountain. Even with that information, there was a nagging concern in the back of my mind. This was the Himalayas – not the Catskills. We agreed we should at least meet an independent guide who would travel with us and make sure we did not get terribly lost. If we did not instinctively trust him or if he did not seem to fit with the group dynamic, we could try and brave it on our own. No problem. Krishna was recommended by our guesthouse and would cost a whopping $15/day.

Krishna approached our picnic table overlooking the lake. He smiled. He had us at Hello. Hiring him was the best decision we made, and not just for his experience and skill – which we ended up needing, but for his companionship and sense of humor. Mr. Don’t Worry Chicken Curry saved us!

The trek would have us ascending 3210 meters (almost 10,000 feet) – the highest I have ever been. Krishna warned us not to expect much – it was monsoon season – but there was still hope. He proceeded to show us pictures of the views and scenery on the hike from Oct/Nov.

We started early on our first day, which was supposed to be our “lightest” of the 4 days. In my case, this was a good thing as I had made the ultimate traveler’s mistake the night before. It is a beginners mistake. Excited about our trip and comfortable after 5 weeks of travel, I believed the waiter when he said that the ice was made from purified water. I ordered cocktail. Big mistake. HUGE. Purified water it was not. AAfter a restless night, I was dehydrated and empty by the morning. Paul took one look at me and was threatening to call the trek off. The dizziness was compounded by an altitude medicine I was prescribed to ward off the sickness I had previously known while skiing at similair heights. Krishna asked me to not take it again. It was too powerful. Some immodium and hot ginger water throughout the day restored me to functional. We made it to out goal on Day 1 with the help of Krishna carrying my bag part way and Paul worrying around me like a good husband. By evening, my spirits were back and I was ready for more, though lesson learned. No cocktails in remote Nepal.

By the second day, the group found its rhythm hiking up the mountain – Paul (named Aakash, meaning “sky” in Nepali) walked with Krishna practicing his Nepali while while Ash, Jimmy and I passed the time reminiscing, singing and joking. The path passed through small villages, rice paddies and revealed beautiful vistas. It is planting season in Nepal and entire communities were out – the men plowing the land with water buffalo while the woman bent in impossible angles planting the rice seedlings at warp speed. We passed donkeys and mules carrying provisions of flour, lentils and beer up the mountain to the guesthouses. Men carried everything from chickens to filing cabinets via a rope attached to their forehead. We hoped the delivery charge was worth it!

Mezmerized by the lush landscape, we were thankful that it was not Oct/Nov when other tourists would have crowded the path. The clouds reminded us of how high we were climbing and the fresh air was amazing. On our second day, we climbed 3280 steep stone step…all before 9:30AM. We continued up until 5PM finally arriving in Goripani at 2910 meters. The mountains has been enveloped in clouds for 2 weeks straight hiding the mountains right across the valley. As we settled down to dinner, the clouds began to part to reveal majestic, snow capped Himalayas. It was breathtaking. The clounds quickly returned but Krishna had a renewed light in his eye – this was a good sign for the morning!

The rain pounded down on the tin roof that night as if we would be washed away. We went to bed with high hopes but low expectations. We awoke at 3:45AM (that’s 3:45AM) to ascend Poon Hill for sunrise. Stars remained in the sky making us optimistic that the view would not disappoint. 400 vertical meters in 45 breathless minutes and we felt like we were on top of the word. We were speechless. Krishna was stunned at our luck. The air was so clear you could see snow blowing from the peaks. The views felt spiritual and we watched in awe as the sun rose.

We descended back to Goripani for breakfast in a festive mood. Mother Nature had been so good to us and we felt GREAT! We were not plagued by altitude sickness or sore muscles, even after two intense days straight UP.

Of course, what comes up must come down. Our good fortune during the ascent was met with a healthy dose of adversity during the descent. We liked to think it was to restore our karmic balance. After the gorgeous views on Poon Hill we had 7 solid hours of hiking down ahead of us (the trek is normally done in 5 days – we chose to do it in 4). No gym machine, stairmaster or amount of walking can prepare one’s knees and calf muscles for 9,000+ feet of stone steps. The first 3 hours went relatively smoothly as we followed a meandering river down the mountain. I met a woman hiking with her Dad who was about to matriculate into Wharton this August. We stopped for lunch with shaky legs and rejuvenated ourselves with dal baht (Nepal’s national dish consisting of rice, lentils, curries and usually a vegetable side) and a competitive game of Hearts.

After lunch, things began to change.

Ash’e ankle rolled during a particularly steep section. And then it rolled again. And again. On the fourth roll she jumped as if a snake had bitten her. The first-aid kit Dad packed for us came in handy and Jimmy wrapped Ash’s swelling ankle with the ace-bandage. We had no choice but to jeep on walking. Not even the mules could travel this particular path with weight on their backs. Krishna carried Ash’s pack as Jimmy protectively supported her down steep rocks. We continued at half pace with 5 hours of normal paced hiking ahead of us. Ash was such a trooper.

And then came the rain. Monsoon rain. The type of bone-drenching rain that no “breathable” raingear can protect you from. From 2PM to 9PM, when we finally arrived at our intended village, we were completely soaked with limited dry clothes to change into. Paul and my feet, strapped in glorified close-toed tivas, had been stepping in mud and other mysterious puddles for 7 hours. My toenails were a site!

But the rain was the least of our concerns. With the rain came leeches. They were everywhere. Hungry, slimy suckers that managed to crawl under socks, up pants and over shirts. We poured salt all over our shoes and stopped every 10 minutes to pull the persistent blood suckers off. Every time we stopped, more would climb on. They were relentless. Our clothes were blood-stained from where the leeches had had their full and dropped off of our bodies before we could get to them. It was what nightmares are made of. We finally understood what the woman from the trekking association was talking about, though this time we were not giggling.

By 9PM our bodies and spirits were exhausted. We entered our respective rooms and pulled several more large-blood filled leeches from our bodies. I believe Jimmy won the award for Captain Leech – the most number of bites. Ash wins for the worst placed bite; the bellybutton. I like to think I win the title for the bloodiest picture post removal, thanks to Paul’s way with the camera. The only reasonable reaction was to laugh – with what energy we had left (Recall: 3:45AM wake up). The little squirts had gotten the best of us. The memory that remains will be one that is sure to crack me up when I least expect it.

On our last day, we reluctantly awoke at 6AM to a deaf man trying to listen to a Nepali radio show at full volume. Our joints felt like they had aged 50 years. The clouds had passed and the early morning sun brought another beautiful view of the mountains. Ash’s ankle was in better shape and we began our last full day of trekking down. The sun warded off the leeches and Advil made us functional again!

Towards the end of the trip, Krishna approached Paul and I with a very serious look on his face. On the trail, I caught Paul and Krishna talking about love. He asked me, “Devi, how did you know Paul was your favorite?” I looked at him and beamed, “Oh, I KNEW!!!” I dramatically told the story of our fateful meeting in the high school hallways. Krishna covered his mouth (partly to hold in the chewing tobacco) and laughed during the entire story. Later, he pulled us aside and said in a stern tone (by this point I was called Bijou – Krishna’s sister-in-law), “Aakash, Bijou, I think you are very good couple. Not just because you are good. But because you have good names. Aakash means sky and Devi means the holder of the universe. These are lucky names.” He clapped and folded his hands in the air as a demonstration of our coupled luck. “You are very lucky.”

What does a “v” or a “bb” matter? I would like to think he is right!