Author: Meg Noble Peterson Page 10 of 30

Early in the morning we repacked for a two-night stay on the plateau below the summit of Ama Yangri, and headed up several banks of stairs leading to the trail.

We continued up the steep trail, through rhododendron forests and out onto rocky cliffs, for about three hours. Views of Upper Melamchi above the valley gave us an idea of what was ahead. One peak, Dorje Lakpa, reminded me of Ama Dablam, my favorite peak on my first trip to Everest Base Camp so long ago. What a wonderful sight to greet us as we arrived in camp!

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By the time we arrived, our porters had already fashioned a stone fireplace for cooking, and within an hour served us a huge lunch…dal bhat and rice, of course, after the altitude-soothing garlic noodle/mustard green soup. Buddhi fashioned a wooden stirrer for the lentils and gathered wood from a large open area.  After all the guests were fed, the porters finally ate. This is a tradition in climbing circles, but not one we wanted to follow.

Post lunch I lay on a pad under the bright sun. What better reward for my efforts?

Entering camp after a late afternoon wander, we heard chopping in the direction of Buddhi’s tent. The men were making themselves mattresses of dried stalks of weeds. Hey, almost like the good ole’ days! This is what our counselors did with pine boughs in the White Mountains when I camped as a child…in the days before therma-rest mattresses and fancy sleeping bags.

Onto the boughs they placed a thin foam pad and their blankets. Regardless of the disparity in age, they had a camaraderie with one another that is a pleasure to watch. And they dance and sing, especially Buddhi, who is a natural clown! At night we can hear them talking a blue streak, animatedly, laughing and, occasionally, breaking into song. I asked Buddhi why all the hilarity. He said it is to keep us safe. If they make a lot of noise, nobody will bother us. I had to laugh. In this wilderness? It’s not as if we’ll have a yak attack as we did in the Kangchenjunga, or have to ward off marauding treasure hunters. But they must have known something that we didn’t.

While Cary and I had been exploring, our tent and toilet had been set up. And get a load of the special trash can, the first I’d ever seen in the mountains of Nepal.

A monk had dropped by and left some small carrots and cabbage as a thank you for tea that Buddhi had offered him. So there was fresh variety for dinner, along with the spinach/garlic soup.

What better way to end the day than sitting by the fire and watching the stars appear.

In the morning there was frost on the tent and a clear blue sky.

We said goodbye to our campsite and headed toward the summit.

As we climbed, we came upon whole sections of the trail that had been washed out by the earthquake, making it slow going. A huge white boulder had been displaced and crashed down the hillside causing devastation in its wake. And there were many wide “stairs” of wooden or stone interspersed with sections of boulder and rock, with more exposure than I like! The forest was beautiful and deep, moving from gnarled, moss-enveloped trees to dense rhododendron woods with their pink roots. And all along the trail tiny daisies and delicate wildflowers greeted us.

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Geronimo! We made it. Sadly, directly in front of us was a huge destroyed stupa. Buddhi (Bon), Brabin (Buddhist), and Cary immediately walked around it through the rubble. Together they lit juniper as an offering. What a glorious smell.

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Large slanting rocks were on the ample summit and I lay down, immediately, vowing that this was my fitting swan song. I would walk around the stupa later. Right now I just wanted to lie on a smooth rock and search the sky. Fog came and went, allowing spectacular glimpses of the mountains that surrounded Ama Yangri. Tiny patches of snow were visible, but when the sun came out we felt warm and very content.

After an hour it was time to leave.

  We fairly flew down the mountain in less than two hours. What a feeling of accomplishment!

As dusk settled upon us, three men came through our campsite with thirteen yaks. After the obligatory tea, they headed into the dark with no flashlights. Good grief! It was all I could do stay upright on the rocky trail in broad daylight, and for them, even in the pitch black, it seemed like a walk in the park. The next day we sighted the animals grazing on a high pasture above Tarkyegang.

More fire-watching brought the day to a close. I doubt that I will ever experience a more peaceful, totally quiet place in my lifetime….

We started up the steep steps from our guesthouse in Sermathang, looking down at the terraces once again, and walked past a field of prayer flags. Interspersed with the tranquil countryside were constant reminders of the earthquake in the form of landslides, yawning cracks in the earth, and washed-out trails.

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By late afternoon we had reached Ghangyul, which had been nearly flattened. The large temple was no more. Just vertical prayer flags marked where it had been. On the terraces, people had built wooden shacks, their stone homes now gone.

We walked past a destroyed stupa and guesthouse, the Dolmo, whose owner, Kaga Lama, lost his wife, daughter, and eleven-month-old granddaughter as they were trying to escape the falling building. They were the only villagers killed. We stopped to talk with him and his two German guests, Elizabeth and Joachin Labinsky, who were helping their friend and former guide, as he worked on plans to rebuild his home.

I had been fighting a bad head and chest cold, and the day had been long enough, so we decided to stay at Ghangyul for the night. The terraces, once solely used for growing crops, were now where the villagers build their temporary homes and guesthouses from wood, tarps and tin, and where we were able to pitch our sleeping tent, and toilet tent.

Even in the rebuilt guesthouses, the kitchen is elaborate and well-stocked. At dinner we met two energetic Sherpas, guides in the Everest area who needed jobs, since the tourist rate had sunk by 30% as a result of the earthquake. One of them, Lakpa, was 24-years-old and had climbed to the summit of Everest five times. The other, Bardan Rei, was also a guide, but said he wanted to start a mountain biking business. They were now working for the United Nations World Food Program to supervise Nepali workers in repairing the damaged trails. The workers were paid in food, which was coming from member nations. We walked on many of these trails in the next few days and discovered, later, that much of the food owed the workers was being delayed because of the Indian blockade. You really wondered just how much more these people could endure.

The young Sherpas (one of whom was Buddhist and the other Hindu) were very idealistic and felt that Nepal would be stronger as a result of this catastrophe. We covered many subjects, but one parting phrase I will never forget: “Nepalis are true fighters. We fight to the end!”

The next morning we headed for Tarkyegang. All along the way, there were signs of the earthquake, either landslides in the distance, or cracks on the trail. Mani stones were abundant along the trail, with their various mantras. OM MANI PADME HUM being the most common. We passed over a charming bridge, far sturdier than most, enjoyed some lovely forest walks, and even passed by a stupa that was undamaged.

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Just before we arrived at our destination we spotted a large white tent with the imprint “Canada” on the top.  It turned out to be the temporary school for elementary children, which was going to be rebuilt by the Swiss NGO, Caritas.  There were presently only twenty students. The older children had been sent to Kathmandu to continue their studies until the new school was built.

We were invited by the teacher to visit and sit in on some of the lessons and activities. Here was an opportunity to donate some of the supplies generously provided by a good friend and internationally known storyteller, writer, and teacher, Lynn Rubright from St. Louis, MO.  The teacher distributed pencils, one of several gifts. The children were overjoyed and thanked us with singing.

We had arrived at the school just in the nick of time. Soon after we had distributed the school supplies, the day was over, and the children scampered up the hillside for the 10 minute walk to Tarkyegang. One of the children carried her small brother up the steep slope.

Following the children, we entered Tarkyegang. We met none other than Dan Maurer and his Nepali companion about whom I wrote in the previous blog post, heading out for Thimpu. They had just climbed Ama Yangri, starting at 7 AM and returning by noon (an amazing feat!) and were standing in front of the ruins of the beautiful guesthouse where we had stayed last year.

Last year we had a spacious room on the second floor of the two-story guesthouse. Now it is all rubble.  The sign was all that remained the same as we walked across the bridge to the guesthouse area.

The hostess from last year greeted us.  She was very upbeat and showed us a large tent and a partially rebuilt cottage where we could stay.

That afternoon we met two New Zealanders, Dr. Stanley Mulvaney from Invercargill (originally from Ireland!), and Bryan Scott from Dunellen.

“We are kiwis,” they announced, having just climbed with their guide over the 18,000 ft. ridge from Langtang to Ama Yangri to Tarkyegang. They had run out of both food and water and were melting snow as a last resort. Exhausted would have been an understatement of their condition when we met them.

Stanley and Bryan were here in Nepal surveying the earthquake damage and planning a service project to help the Nepali people.

They bounced back quickly from their grueling hike. Both men were full of ideas and a lot of fun in the bargain.

During the afternoon we wandered around town finding it difficult to cope with the condition of this once-beautiful community.

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Tomorrow would be an early day, so we said goodnight to the mountains and collapsed into bed.

We received a warm sendoff from Palchowk, dreading, in a way, what was ahead of us. You never become inured to scenes such as these, which were with us for the next twelve days.

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The day was very difficult…eight hours of strenuous climbing… interrupted by a lunch stop at a small village, Kakani, or what was left of it. There we met a young builder from Flagstaff, AZ, Dan Maurer, who was trekking with a guide and an Austrian friend, the purpose being to help with rebuilding. He had raised money from crowdrise and from friends and family. For three months he had been going from village to village, many to which we were headed.

 

In the backyard of the half-destroyed guest house where we ate, we became acquainted with three children, all siblings, who lived with their family in a large tent. They were playing soccer with a beat-up, half-inflated ball, which did nothing to dampen their competitiveness. It was hilarious…the way the tiny brother would try to steal the ball from his older siblings. How I wished I could have bought them a new ball. But where? There were no stores to be found.

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As we trekked from village to village in the mountains, Cary and I talked to the local Nepalis and observed, firsthand, how these people are putting their lives back together, starting in the immediate aftermath of the April earthquake. The priorities were in this order.

1 They searched for their family members, and helped the wounded and buried their loved ones.

2. They collected whatever food was available for the group and put together makeshift shelters with any salvaged material they could find.

3. They then went to work providing schools for the children.

In the next two weeks we visited four schools that were destroyed and the children housed in tin shacks or rooms built from the wood and detritus left by the quake. Education is a high priority for the Nepalese.

As we go along I shall show in pictures the results of this labor, as well as the progress in rebuilding some of the schools.

Continuing on to Sermathang we passed many stupas, most of them destroyed.

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So many impressions flooded my mind as I climbed through fog and mist, winding over clay or rocky trails beside farms and terraces, and facing exposure (scary to me) as I looked down at the fields of grain below. Even though the narrow trails are often well-worn, it’s still a challenge to me…but also part of the excitement.

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In late afternoon we approached the town of Sermathang, with some trepidation. Would there be a guest house left standing for us to stay in overnight? After seeing so many destroyed buildings, it was almost shocking to see a totally intact 3 story guest house, the Dorje. This was an example of how modern construction with concrete and steel reinforcing rods can hold up in such strong earthquake.

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We met Dan, again, at dinner. The dining room was unusually grand for a mountain guesthouse. There were benches covered with handmade Tibetan rugs, and cabinets with elaborately-carved replicas of the eight auspicious Buddhist symbols. It had been an emotionally charged day, and our exploration was only just beginning. The next day we headed toward Tarkyeghang, where we had started our trek last year.

I promise to finish this trip before summer! Already it’s early March on Whidbey Island and the town of Langley is awash in daffodils and flowering trees. It’s like New Jersey in late April. And we deserve it. We’ve had enough rain to take care of all of California with Texas thrown in….

We spent the evening before we left for the mountains with our Brazilian friends, Thiago and Otavio, both practicing Buddhists. Rosti was our Thanksgiving feast. Later, we were joined by Thuy Ngo (Tweedy, for short), a dentist from Arizona, who emigrated from Vietnam in 1982 and has expressed the desire to go with me to Mongolia this summer. Hooray! She was part of a group of dentists, mostly retired, who come to Nepal every year to volunteer in a clinic, Global Dental Relief (GDR). They work for two weeks, seven days a week. A strenuous schedule. The Shechen Guest House is home to many foreign volunteers who come to donate their services. As you can imagine, there has been an increase this year as a result of the earthquake.

Early the next morning, after fortifying ourselves with another amazing cappuccino, we took the unpaved road, or high shortcut, which defies description, over the mountain from Kathmandu to the Melamchi Valley, passing numerous destroyed houses and buildings. Rebuilding has been slow due to very little government funding. This was the beginning of our immersion in the area most damaged by the April earthquake. We stopped at the small shop in the village where we had milk tea and cookies last year. The building on one side had been destroyed, but our shop was still standing. I’ve shown this area in detail in previous posts.

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Four hours later we arrived at our starting place, a small town above Lower Melamchi.

 

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After climbing for three hours on steep switchbacks, we reached Palchowk, a cluster of houses along the road in the midst of fields and millet terraces. Their guesthouse had been destroyed, but they put us up in a room next to the kitchen, probably a family bedroom, with tin siding for walls and a fortified tarp for a roof. Needless to say, we were very grateful to find shelter! There were bags of rice in the room and quantities of tarps under the beds. A mat has been thrown over the clay floor.

Before settling in we explored the countryside. As always happens, the children crowd around us, asking our names and wanting their pictures taken. We are forever a curiosity.

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Dinner was being prepared over a typical wood fire where sticks are pushed into the flame. As we sat on our beds and smelled the redolent odors from the cooking next door, Cary said, “Well, Mom, we are now experiencing first hand how thousands of Nepali families are living after the earthquake.” Except we had sleeping bags and extra mats.

What’s left of the former guesthouse seems to be a social center. People come, drink tea, talk loudly, laugh, and have a good time. There is a small convenience store consisting of one counter and a glass cupboard. The door looks pre-earthquake. There is a tin-corrugated wall and another entrance to a kitchen/bedroom. The floors are packed red clay. A roof covers what is left of the porch, on which sit two long tables with benches. The roof is covered with tin and tarps held up by large bamboo poles.

It started to rain and everyone went scurrying to cover the harvested millet with the tarps from under our bed! Meanwhile, a beautiful dog was brought in to keep dry. In a matter of minutes he gulped down a huge plate of white rice. I never knew dogs ate rice.

We enjoyed a sumptuous dinner…after which everyone had the traditional dal, rice, and chicken pieces. The beautiful young daughter-in-law gathered up the dishes and washed them under the main waterspout in the front courtyard…in the rain.

The goats and buffalo were tethered out front. Tonight was my first taste of buffalo milk and it was wonderful…and sweet.

The smoke from the wood fire flowed into our attached room making sleep difficult. But I was too tired to worry about it for long. Tomorrow would be a long day.

We flew to Kathmandu on our favorite airline, Jet Airways, where the hostesses managed in one hour to hand out free beer and serve a meal. They are, indeed, of Olympian quality! I sat next to a man with whom I had a heated discussion about the rights of married women (in most families in India husbands still handle the finances, and wives have to give over their earnings), abortion of female fetuses by the rich, killing of unwanted newborns by the poor, and the need for social change in India. This was the first of many such discussions during the coming weeks.

Arriving in Kathmandu is like coming home. Yes, I feel as if it is my second home. We headed for our old stamping ground, the Shechen Guest House in Boudhanath, which fortunately had not been damaged. The next day began with the usual great cappuccino (as soon as the electricity was on) and our favorite entrée, cheese/potato rosti with garden vegetables. Served, I might add, at a table in on the green, surrounded by flowering bushes.

I know I repeat myself each year, but to arrive in November and find such floral beauty warms my heart. So I share a bit with you.

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In the afternoon, as we made our way to the stupa, the impact of the earthquake was immediately evident. We passed the Shechen Monastery to find the grounds torn up, the temple cracked, and several buildings completely demolished. Repair is ongoing.

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When we reached the famous stupa, the “eyes” were no longer staring at us. The top had been removed, and sections had been moved down to be repaired. Scaffolding abounded and piles of bricks lined the various levels. It may take two years to finish the reconstruction.

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We came back later in the afternoon and had a happy reunion with Pasang and his two children, Aashika (6) and Aasmika (2). You may remember that his home was destroyed last April and I wrote about it in my blog post HERE. It was wonderful to see that he was smiling, again. Nepalis are very resilient people.

I’m especially fond of Aashika and have watched her develop over the years. She is a crackerjack student. Here are a few shots of her studying. It’s amazing the work these children do and how seriously they take each subject. Today there was math and English.

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Before taking you into the mountains, let me share a few photos of our tuk tuk ride through Thamel and on to Durbar Square, one of the World Heritage sites in Kathmandu, where ancient temples and landmarks crumbled. Much of the debris has already been cleared away, so you can get a better idea of the destruction online HERE.

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I was amazed that so much of Thamel, the student hangout in Kathmandu, and the commercial areas, remained intact. I was sure the old Newari buildings, leaning against one another with their balconies jutting out over the street, would be gone, but not so.

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When we return from our trek I’ll show photos of our visit to Patan and Bhaktapur, but first, let’s get into the mountains.

How great is that! My granddaughter, Cally, and her husband presented me with a great-grandson just before Cary and I started a 12-day trek in the Himalayas in late November. I’m so thrilled and happy that all went well and my daughter, Martha, is with them through the New Year.

The high point. literally, of our month’s stay in India and Nepal, was summiting 12,500 foot Ama Yangri in the Yolmo–a grueling, steep uphill into the clouds, with a 360 degree view of the Langtang Range and surrounding mountains and valleys.

Stayed tuned for a comprehensive report on our travels and trekking. And in the meantime, have a great Christmas holiday!