A Travellerspoint blog

October 2011

Are you squatting comfortably?


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When on a trek, you start to appreciate some of the creature comforts that simply get taken for granted at home. One such pleasure is a warm toilet seat on which to park your posterior. Alas, like in many other parts of the developing world, Thomas Crapper's invention is only just infiltrating Nepal, where squat toilets are the order of the day. Doing your business in a Nepali squat toilet is part of the trekking experience, thanks to the variable quality of the sanitary facilities and the unpredictability of your digestive system when adapting to the local diet.

The very worst examples are the squalid, ramshackle latrines found behind the roadside food shacks where the long-distance buses pull over to allow passengers a five-minute comfort break. In practice, there's very little that's comfortable about using these places. They are typically thrown together from whatever bits of wood and corrugated tin happen to be lying around, and are frequently unlit. Darkness in a squat toilet can be a blessing as well as an inconvenience. You don't get to find out what unspeakably horrid fecal matter the previous occupant may have forgotten to flush away, and the cause of the suspiciously slippery floor remains similarly unknown.

The trekking lodges that are found on the more popular trails in Nepal are generally more sympathetic to the personal hygiene standards of Westerners. Here, you can expect to find a door with a lock (both are considered a bonus), a basket thoughtfully placed in one corner for depositing used toilet paper (though it's best not to peer too closely at the contents) and a plastic water container with a jug for flushing.

Some fine examples we have come across on our trek include the spotlessly clean toilet at our homestay in Ghap, the beautifully wood-panelled affair at the lodge in Meta and the tiled bathroom at the Snowland Hotel in Koto. The proprietors of the latter establishment had clearly never laid a tiled floor before, but deserve credit for trying. A lodge, however, is never a guarantee of a pleasurable bathroom experience, and there are numerous examples of overflowing waste paper baskets, leaky taps, sloping floors and tin roofs that lift off the walls when you stand up and hit your head on them. (Any other six-footers who've been to Nepal will know exactly what I'm talking about.)

The trekking lodges in Nar clearly know their market

The trekking lodges in Nar clearly know their market

On our camping trek we had the use of a toilet tent when no permanent cubicles were available. A shallow hole in the ground, dug with the adze of an ice axe, was the natural substitute for the white porcelain squat toilet cast-in to a cement floor. This worked fine when you needed to go in the evening or first thing in the morning, but strange diets can easily disrupt regular cycles and at some point you will inevitably be caught short in between campsites. The toilet en plein air is the only option, but it is not without risk. The one thing you're usually guaranteed with an open-air loo in Nepal is a good view, but more often than not, this means the porter a couple of minutes behind you on the path gets an equally good view of your pasty white bum. It's not always possible to find a convenient boulder or bush to dodge behind and there is a definite art to judging distances and sightlines. If that same porter passes you a few minutes later with a sheepish grin on his face, you know you've made an error of judgement.

We came across the same problem in the village of Phu, where there are no public conveniences at all, and to make matters worse, the surrounding hillsides all seemed to be overlooked by villagers' farms, homes or gompas. What to do? Well, aside from holding it all in until nightfall, which is what the locals did, we could sneak across to the campsite and make use of a French group's toilet tent. A lady staying in the same lodge as us confessed to a different solution. She kept a spare bottle in her room for emergencies, and when no-one was looking, went outside and discreetly disposed of the contents. So long as she wasn't emptying it into the vegetable patch...

The Nepalese village of Phu
Is sorely in need of a loo
So when nature calls
Wait till darkness falls
'Cos that's what the locals do

Another hazard is the multitude of sticky seeds and prickly vegetation underfoot. Not all the plants are familiar, so it's worth checking your nether regions for foreign matter before pulling your trousers up. A certain trekker I know managed to walk for several hours with bracken in her knickers.

Bowel movements on a trek can be unpredictable in consistency as well as regularity. Jen has a cast-iron stomach and seems to have few problems in this regard, but Gillian McKeith would have a field day with my stools. My delicate gut needs to be weaned carefully on to a foreign diet and this process can take a few weeks. Judging consistency by sight is difficult when what comes out slides away into the fetid abyss of the squat toilet. Turning around for a quick glance mid-action is risky too - I once misjudged the roof level and managed to lift it six inches off the supports with my head. The alternative method is to judge by the number of sheets of loo paper required to deal with the aftermath. I'm very proud of the fact that I managed to ration myself to 55 sheets of Andrex for 29 days, but after the first week it was looking as though 550 would be necessary. Eventually I'd had enough and started a course of antibiotics. This worked a treat and my insides quickly settled themselves down again. I waited with some trepidation for the next number two to come along, and I'm pleased to report that the event passed without any troubling incident, much to my relief.

That's why, in my humble opinion, there's no greater satisfaction when trekking than a two-sheet shit.

Chris is so relieved that his weeks of constipation are over, he doesn't notice his rock-hard turd has cracked the bowl

Chris is so relieved that his weeks of constipation are over, he doesn't notice his rock-hard turd has cracked the bowl

Posted by Chris Parsons 21:42 Archived in Nepal Tagged trekking nepal toilets Comments (0)

Our himalayan mountain passes


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During our month-long trek in Nepal we crossed three passes over 5,000m and were blessed with fabulous weather every time. Here's the proof - more photos!

Pass number 1 - the Larkya La

11 October 2011 - Celebrations on the Larkya La (5110m)

11 October 2011 - Celebrations on the Larkya La (5110m)

Ram and Jen enjoying the view to the west of the Larkya La

Ram and Jen enjoying the view to the west of the Larkya La

Pass number 2 - the Kang La

Jen on the northern approach to the Kang La

Jen on the northern approach to the Kang La

20 October 2011 - All smiles on the Kang La (5200m)

20 October 2011 - All smiles on the Kang La (5200m)

Pass number 3 - the Thorung La

23 October 2011 - On the Thorung La (5416m) for the second time

23 October 2011 - On the Thorung La (5416m) for the second time

Chris posing as a porter!

Chris posing as a porter!

Posted by Chris Parsons 06:00 Archived in Nepal Tagged trekking nepal passes Comments (0)

Magical mountain moments


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To give you a taste of the scenery we've been enjoying, here's a selection of mountain-themed photos from Nepal. Enjoy!

The Manang Valley and Annapurna Himal

The Manang Valley and Annapurna Himal

The Approach to Bimthang

The Approach to Bimthang

Manaslu Base Camp

Manaslu Base Camp

Manaslu at Dawn

Manaslu at Dawn

Kanggaru from Above Phugaon

Kanggaru from Above Phugaon

Jharkot and the Muktinath Himal

Jharkot and the Muktinath Himal

Ice Lake at the Thorung La

Ice Lake at the Thorung La

Himalchuli from Gumba Lungdang

Himalchuli from Gumba Lungdang

Ganesh Himal Base Camp at Dawn

Ganesh Himal Base Camp at Dawn

Dhaulagiri at Dawn

Dhaulagiri at Dawn

Posted by Chris Parsons 00:30 Archived in Nepal Tagged mountains trekking nepal Comments (0)

Food blog #1 - a subject close to my stomach

As I sit thinking what to write, I'm in a small stone hut high up in the tiny "village" of Kyang (3,800m). I say "village" because all the villagers have deserted and gone to Nar or Phu for the summer, so it's more of a ghost village really. There is one small tea shop, which is where we are camped for the night. I'm warming myself on the wood stove while the hut owner fries some potatoes to go with our daal bhat (lentils, curry and rice). This will be the first of many daal bhats this week, as this is the national dish, eaten twice daily, and we have now trekked beyond the land of menus, spaghetti and apple pie.

On request a large helping of chilli has just gone into our potatoes, together with the cabbage. When you're trekking, food is one of the most important preoccupations of the day. We have progressed from having our own cook, Phurbar, in the Tsum Valley, where fried everything was the order of the day, to eating as the locals do. In the Tsum Valley, I'd never eaten so many chips or had such a longing for a plate of daal bhat . The only compensation was the occasional treats which substituted the neverending fried food, like pizza in Rainjam and chocolate cake in Lokpa. These were items of food we later dreamed about as the trek became more remote!

But at high altitudes it's difficult to beat a good daal bhat. It is not like the greasy Indian curries you find at home, and is therefore easier to digest at altitude. It also comes with an "all you can eat" clause. If you've ever seen a porter who has carried 30kgs up a mountain tuck into his own personal mountain of daal bhat it becomes clear why most Nepalis choose to eat nothing else. On our 10-day Tsum Valley trek alone, our porters carried and consumed a massive 150kgs of rice!!!

Ram with a valuable pressure cooker full of rice

Ram with a valuable pressure cooker full of rice

A plate of nutritious daal bhat
Is in no danger of making you fat
But I hadn't reckoned
On eating a second
Nor twice in one day, come to that.

No food blog would be complete of course, without a section on local delicacies. These are loosely defined as whatever is produced when Ram emerges from a smoky shack with a handful/cupful/bowlful of something suspicious and a triumphant "Here, try this!" The trek started well with some delicious samosas outside Arughat Bazar. Other wonders have included pickled cabbage and spicy dried mutton. You could tell when anyone had a mouthful of the latter, as they were still chewing it 15 minutes later!

En route to Ganesh Himal Base Camp (3,900m) we stopped at a yak herder's hut with a fire in the middle of the mud floor. I sat down by the fire to warm up, surrounded by huge drums of off-smelling milk. This turned out to be curd, which was offered to me in a soup bowl to gulp down. I took a small spoonful which swilled around my mouth like loose jelly, and I was on the verge of spitting it out when I realised that it tasted a bit like yoghurt. Still, seconds were not on the cards!

Vats of yak curd at a yak herder's hut in the Ganesh Himal

Vats of yak curd at a yak herder's hut in the Ganesh Himal

Milk develops into all sorts of forms in Nepal, including something called chirpi. This is a step on from curd. The moisture from the curd is extracted, and the remaining mild, cheese-like substance is then piped onto a large mat in big swirls and dried in the hot sun. You can then break off bits and eat them as a snack. I tried some but couldn't discern what it tasted of - not much was the conclusion! Once again, I didn't return for seconds.

Perhaps the most dangerous of Nepalese delicacies is the chilli pepper. Our cook Phurbar had an enormous jar of preserved chillis reserved for the porters to eat with their daal bhat. This is not westerners' food, but a pick-me-up in the evenings, especially when you're camping in freezing temperatures at 4,000m. Anyway, I was offered one of these delicious looking chillis. Thinking they would be the strength of Tesco's Finest, I popped one straight into my mouth, much to the consternation of Ram and the others in the food tent. Gasps and cries of "Not all at once!" made me spit it out before it was too late. It turns out that you are supposed to nibble delicately at the chillis. Not even our hardened porters dared chew one of these babies whole! So I duly followed suit and spent the next 15 minutes blowing my nose and wiping away the tears...

On the pepper front, we also tried fresh peppercorns. When I say fresh, I mean straight off the tree. They were growing near Rachen Gompa in the Tsum Valley. They are harvested in October and November, but they can still be eaten earlier. They are small red berries - you peel the skin off and then go for it. A strange sensation then ensues. Your tongue produces large amounts of saliva, and this lasts for about 20 minutes. Straight off the tree, peppercorns taste peppery hot, but fruity at the same time. For me, I prefer the dried version every time!

Also on the list of 'never to try again' goes packet chicken from Tibet. In Chhokhungparo a packet was shoved under my nose with the innocent sounding "Would you like some chicken?" I was greeted with a packet of pasty, wobbling wattle accompanied by a claw poking out the other side. I politely declined. Tibetan Tea is also on this list. Among the ingredients are yak butter, salt and milk. It tastes a bit like soup but without the vegetables or chicken, and there's not a smidgen of tea in sight.

One of the best surprises and most entertaining activities was shelling beans in Lho. Chris and I thought we'd help out with dinner preparations. All the locals muck in, usually to peel potatoes or chop garlic, on the proviso that approximately 5-10% reaches the helper's stomach before the plate! Anyway, I picked up a pod and popped it open to find that the beans inside were pink! Chris then opened another to find blue beans. Not just any old blue mind, think blue smarties! It turns out that Nepalese beans are really exciting... and come in all colours. The lady running the kitchen was so amused at our delight at the multi-coloured beans that she added a special portion to our fried potatoes that evening. I'm sorry to report that when cooked they return to a dull brown colour. However, they did taste good. For the record, the colours they came in were black, green, white, purple, bright blue, bright pink, white with pink spots, purple with pink spots and cream. Who said food prep was dull!

On the subject of strangely coloured food, Chris also discovered that porridge turns blue when iodine-treated water is added to it. This was valuable porridge too, as it was needed to power Chris up the Thorung La pass. There was great relief when on stirring, all returned to normal...

An evening's entertainment

An evening's entertainment

Posted by jparsons 00:19 Archived in Nepal Tagged food trekking nepal Comments (0)

A mountain poem


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A spark in my imagination fires
To reveal what lies behind
The shifting swirling bank of cloud
Rolling in like the tide
Then high in the deep blue sky
A sharpened summit soars
Offering only the slightest glimpse
Of something tantalisingly more...
It's only as darkness descends
That the icy white peaks emerge
Stripped bare of all but a moonlit glow
Silently unheard

JP

Posted by Chris Parsons 23:14 Archived in Nepal Tagged mountains nepal Comments (0)

On the edge: trekking in the monsoon


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Blog entry: by Jen Parsons

Our trek in Nepal has already revealed a landscape of extremes. For the first time on a trip to Nepal we began trekking in the monsoon season. This started with a bus trip that succumbed to the wrong sort of mud as a result of monsoon rainfall (see previous blog - a tale of 2 buses)!

On day two, we discovered the true meaning of the monsoon as we ascended the Budi Gandaki valley. Water was pouring off the tops of the mountains in free-fall for 100s of metres - straight off the vertical cliff walls. In sunshine this created a magical sight with some of the biggest waterfalls I've ever seen, and complete with the odd rainbow too (the National Trust would have a field day if this were the UK!). But then when the rain came - not with any purpose mind, just big spodges dropping casually out of the sky - the river swelled, boiling angrily down the valley.

I stopped numerous times just to watch the "rapids" (though there were no calm spots). These must have been at least a grade 10, i.e. instant death...and the noise from all of this was utterly deafening. I've never seen anything like it before in my life. The path we were taking was carved out of the vertical cliffs some 20 metres above the river. In Nepal, there are no health and safety warnings, or handrails for that matter. One false move or a lapse in concentration would have been extremely problematic!

Later in the day we were faced with another facet of the monsoon - river crossing. On our approach to Macchakhola we were given a choice of route: 1) the precipitous high route (which the locals were refusing to take) or 2) the low-level riverside walk. Given that the locals are prepared to walk in many places I am not, we chose the lower path! With one river crossing already under our belts, and our feet nicely back in our boots toasting after an unexpected wash, the lower path suddenly dropped down to the main river and disappeared. So it was off with the boots again, only this time we were wading. The advantage of being British quickly became clear, as our porters were in the river nearly up to their waists, while Chris barely got his knees wet! I was in over my knees, but just opted for wet trousers as everything else was already soaked....This was just one of the small hazards encountered by the locals in everyday monsoon life, except in their case they were just making a trip to the shops rather than trekking (for fun!).

Nepali legs aren't long enough for river crossings!

Nepali legs aren't long enough for river crossings!

Our third and fourth days of trekking showed us another more serious side to the monsoon. We lunched at a little village called Dobhan, and as we were sitting down out of the blazing sunshine, our guide, Ram, informed us that there had been a big landslide further up the path on our intended route, and that the locals were "sitting it out". As we ate our lunch we watched for signs of activity coming over the bridge from the direction of the landslide. Our "plan" was to go up the path in the afternoon and 'have a look at it', to see if it was crossable. Our destination that evening was Jagat, some three hours the otherside. Eventually, some local porters came through the village, having safely made it across, though they reported the landslide to be very dangerous and apparently still moving! This did not improve the digestion of lunch. With some nervousness we advanced towards the landslide area. Before we even reached the main landslide, we could see where large boulders had ripped through the trees, and smaller landslides - in an outward ripple effect - had occurred. When we got to the landslide itself, it looked crossable, so without hesitation we walked smartly across, over and under boulders and scree. We crossed about 100 metres of rubble, which fortuntely was not on the move, and remarkably already had a path of sorts across it (only in Nepal!). We reached the otherside safely to several high-fives, and a slowing heartrate....

Jen and Ram crossing the landslide after Dobhan

Jen and Ram crossing the landslide after Dobhan

Later in Jagat, after dinner, the heavens opened, with some serious rainfall. So serious, we had to abandon the tent as the campsite was flooding, and sleep in the campsite owners' kitchen / dining area. As we sipped our tea, we could hear the rumble and roar of more landslides up and down the valley. The following morning we rounded the next twist of the valley to come face to face with a giant mudslide. We figured that this is what we had heard the previous evening. The mudslide had wiped out the small village of Salleri. Fortuntely there were no locals resident at the time, as they were away for the festival in Kathmandu. Enormous boulders (the size of houses) had been lifted up and deposited at the riverside. We gingerly picked and slid our way through the mud, avoiding the route of our porters who were up to their knees. This was a far more fragile situation than the previous landslide, and brought home the precariousness of life in the mountains. For the locals, rebuilding a path, a road or a village is one of the facts of life each year in this region.

The mudslide that wiped out Salleri

The mudslide that wiped out Salleri

That night as the rain battered our leaky tent, I was kept awake by sobering thoughts of where the next landslide would fall.

Posted by Chris Parsons 22:51 Archived in Nepal Tagged trekking monsoon Comments (2)

A tale of two buses: a white-knuckle ride in Nepal


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If your bus is Arughat bound
And there's an ocean of mud on the ground
Abandon your seat
And resort to your feet
Else your trousers will surely be browned

Bus travel in Nepal is not for the faint-hearted as we've discovered on our previous trips here. And so it proved again this time around with our journey from Kathmandu to Arughat Bazar. Our experience has taught us some of the unwritten rules of bus journeys, and as we sped towards the bus station in our hotel taxi I ran through them in my head:

  1. It doesn't matter where or when you board the bus, there will always be someone sitting in your seat.
  2. It doesn't matter how far in advance you book your ticket, you will always be sat near the back of the bus or on the roof.
  3. Your bus will break down at least once during your journey.
  4. Journey times include an allowance for breakdowns.
  5. Your bus will have been designed for half the number of people it is carrying.
  6. There is always room for one more person on the bus.

We arrived to be met by Ram, our trekking guide, and some of our porters. Our first bus was a Toyota minivan which seemed to be in reasonably roadworthy condition. We climbed slowly out of the Kathmandu valley on the highway to Pokhara. This is the best road in Nepal but it is difficult to average more than 30mph. Not that this stopped our driver from trying. Once out of the Kathmandu traffic we only had the long-distance buses and trucks to contend with, and the driver began to practice some of his more audacious overtaking moves. Nepalis drive on the left, but this rule is only casually observed when approaching a slower moving vehicle on a blind bend. Nepal could do with some of the fantastic road signs we saw last year in Ladakh, such as "be a Mr Late not a Late Mr", and "be gentle with my curves". We picked up more passengers at several places en route, so by the time we had swerved off the main highway, crossed the Trisuli river, and arrived at Dadingbesi, we were jammed in like the proverbial sardines. The white knuckle ride was over for the time being. We retired to a roadside cafe for lunch and waited for bus no. 2 in the sticky heat.

The second bus was a different animal entirely, a large blue and white Tata vehicle with monster truck tyres. With hindsight this should have given us a clue as to the condition of the road to Arughat. Ram announced that he had our tickets so we boarded the bus and took our seats near the back (after evicting the two Nepalis who had decided to claim them for themselves).

We watched as more and more people congregated around the bus; this was clearly going to be another sardine can. Not only that, but all the gear and food for our 15 day camping trek somehow had to be squeezed on board. Boxes were stacked in the aisle to shoulder height and bags were stashed on the roof (along with several of our porters). We each had a bag wedged between our legs, and boxes on our laps. And just when it seemed as though breathing in and out was going to get difficult, we were off.

For the first few minutes, we enjoyed the passing scenery and the cool breeze on our faces. Despite the cramped conditions, perhaps this wasn't going to be too much of an ordeal. Then we hit the first muddy ruts. The monsoon rains had turned the poorly drained stretches of road into a quagmire with deep tyre ruts. And each time we hit one of these patches we were pitched and tossed around like a trawler on a squally sea. The bus lurched from one side to the other as the tyres struggled for grip in the glutinous mud, giving those of us in the window seats a close look at the huge chasm beyond the edge of the road. What started as mild panic soon became sheer terror and my thoughts went from "that was a close one" to "you've got to be kidding", to "ohmygodwereallgoingtodie"! Goodness only knows how the porters on the roof were managing to cling on.

The newly-resurfaced Arughat road

The newly-resurfaced Arughat road

After two hours of this torture our nerves were shredded and we decided that we'd had enough. We extricated ourselves from our seats (a process which required the skills of a contortionist) and continued down the road on foot, guided by Ram. He took us down to Taribesi, a one horse town next to a bridge over a river, and promised us the road would improve beyond this point. Such was the painfully slow progress the bus was making, it was another half hour before we heard its tooting horn. Shortly after, it came hurtling triumphantly across the bridge and stopped to pick us up.

Walking is not only safer, it's quicker too

Walking is not only safer, it's quicker too

From this point things got worse. We started up a steep incline, but a rocky gully that cut across the road proved too much for the bus which got stuck. Everyone disembarked to inspect the problem. The front axle and the chassis were at wildly different angles, and one of the rear wheels was spinning in free air. Nepalis relish these kind of situations, and 30 minutes later, all four wheels had been reunited with the road and were were back on board.

The last-but-one nail in the coffin for the Arughat bus

The last-but-one nail in the coffin for the Arughat bus

We continued to climb the hillside (the road was just as bad as before) until we reached a flat stretch where the mud looked deeper and gloopier than anywhere else. There was no way round it, so the driver got out and walked ahead to pick his line. Back in his seat he revved the engine and we surged forward, but it was immediately obvious we weren't going to make it. We were stuck again, and this time, no amount of Nepali resourcefulness was going to free us.

With the light fading, we made the decision to find somewhere to stay the night, accepting that there was no way we were going to reach Arughat. Our bags were offloaded and we walked a short way to a small hut at a crossroads. The resident family let us camp in their front yard and fed us dinner. We went to bed under a tree full of snickering monkeys, which somehow summed up our day.

The next morning we awoke, counted our mosquito bites, and watched the monkeys descend from the tree and scamper into the nearby fields to wreak havoc. We continued the final few kilometres to Arughat on foot. As we neared the village we heard a familiar tooting horn and were surprised to see the very same bus we had abandoned the night before with a fresh load of wide-eyed white knuckled passengers, and a smug looking driver. It seems we had underestimated Nepali resourcefulness after all, but at least we escaped with our lives.

The tragic footnote to this tale, is that around one week later, Ram heard from his wife that the Arughat bus had overturned and fallen off the road, killing the 13 Nepalis on board. Most would have been on their way home to celebrate the Dasain festival with their families. We were right to resort to our feet...

Posted by Chris Parsons 03:30 Archived in Nepal Tagged trekking buses monsoon Comments (2)

Trekking in a winter wonderland


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We have just arrived in the small village of Braga on the 30th day of our epic trek in the Nepal Himalaya. Rejoice, for the Internet has reached these parts and we can give you an update on our travels - just a brief one, mind, as the web doesn't come cheap at 3,500m!

Once again Nepal has given us more of everything. More incredible mountain scenery, more heart-warming hospitality, more gompas, more bites (leaches, mosquitos, and bed bugs), more cranky yaks, more veg-fried potatoes, more daal bhat dinners and more near-death experiences on the local buses than you can shake a broken Leki pole at.

For the first 15 days of our trek, we were accompanied by a retinue of Nepali staff carrying camping and cooking equipment and food: Ram, our guide, Phurbar, our cook, Dharma, the assistant guide and seven porters.

For the past fortnight, we have been staying in teahouses, acccompanied by Ram and a single porter, Sinkhada, who has been carrying both our heavy backpacks.

Suffice to say the trekking has been wonderful so far, and we have made it this far with bodies largely in tact and most of our gear still functioning. We have been busy preparing lots of juicy blog articles for you, so as soon as we get back to civilisation proper, we will be posting regluar updates.

But first the trekking continues! With two 5,000m passes under our belts, we were due to attempt a third as we trekked up to Tilicho Lake, this time without guide or porter. However, we awoke this morning to find a winter wonderland outside our lodge, and snow still falling. The Tilicho trek requires perfect conditions, so we have had to change our plans. We are now sitting it out in Braga to see what the weather does. If it clears we will cross the Thorung La pass for the second time in 5 years. If not, we have to trek down the valley and catch the bus back to Kathmandu. On the bright side, we have have just gorged ourselves on chocolate cake and apple pie, at the same bakery in Braga we first discovered in 2007.

Winter arrives early in Ngawal

Winter arrives early in Ngawal

Apple pie and chocolate cake never tasted so good

Apple pie and chocolate cake never tasted so good

Jen and Chris

Posted by Chris Parsons 22:46 Archived in Nepal Tagged food trekking nepal Comments (0)

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