Munks , Mules and Mud - October 19

We have been trekking now for 7 incredible days. The scenery is constantly changing - alpine meadows, lush jungle, thundering waterfalls, surging rivers, ridge walks and epic mountain views. Truthfully, time no longer seems to matter. We have begun to fall into an easy pattern. Wake, eat, hike straight uphill, drink tea, hike straight downhill, eat lunch, hike straight uphill, drink tea, hike straight downhill, eat dinner and then fall into bed utterly exhausted to begin the routine all over again the next day. We joke that we longer require a brain, as we gratefully follow Tendi’s lead. We move when he tells us to and stop when he gives the rest signal. We are like lemmings ready to follow him over a cliff.

And today, we were almost required to follow him over said cliff. Unfortunately, road construction between Bupsa and Surkey had decimated the trail and in fact had washed out a section. Clearly concerned, the Dream Team told us to wait and proceeded over the cliff into the bush searching for a safe way to rejoin the trail. There was quite a lengthy discussion, which Tendi later revealed was about how to get Didi Kim safely over the cliff. Calmly, the team announced it was a no go. We were forced to turn back and attempt a different route to Surkey.

As we retraced our steps we looked high up the steep slope and noticed a mule train slowly coming down. Rob, Kim and I looked at each other in complete shock as we realized that was the alternate route we were to take. We really didn’t have a choice, so we dug in and began the slog. On we climbed, through the mud and muck, until Tendi stopped us once again. There was another animated discussion. It became clear that we had missed a turn. Feeling quite disheartened we retraced our steps until we found the right trail. 

This alternate route was the equivalent of Toronto’s 401, but in this case the mule trains made up the heavy traffic. We were frequently scrambling up the sides of the bank to get out of the way and more importantly to avoid being pushed over the bank. For the first few kilometres I tried to avoid stepping in donkey crap, but as time wore on and my legs tired I gave up and grudgingly tromped through mud, poop and pee. Later that evening in the tea house, other hikers joked about the route and aptly named it the Donkey Crap Trail. 

Just when I was feeling at my lowest, the trail “gods” presented me with the most precious of gifts. I was perched on the side of the mountain, allowing a mule train to pass and I looked up ahead. Coming towards me, was a group of young monks teetering and tottering on the side of the bank and calmly holding up their long red robes. It was quite a sight, and just what I needed!

Giggle of the day

Meeting trail buddies along the way is one of my favourite things about self-propelled travel. There is something about the shared experience, perhaps even the shared suffering that brings people from around the world together at rest stops, view points and in the case of Nepal - tea houses. This trek we have been fortunate to meet a lively Irishman named Colm who is always quick with a smile and laugh and Thomas a 70 year old Swiss gentleman who moves like a man half his age. Today’s giggle is brought to you courtesy of Thomas.

As we slide, slipped and slogged our way down the steep muddy trail we heard a loud call from above. It was our trail buddy Thomas. “Heh, Jane he bellowed - Welcome to Hell!