Mani stones of the Annapurnas

Mani stones are prayer stones, almost all of which are over 500 years old. They are usually inscribed with the repetitive mantra "Om Mani Padme Hung" (see my post on Day 3 for a detailed description of the phrase), and represent a form of meditation for the monks who etched them. They are often laid in piles or rows along walls, sometimes on top of rows of prayer wheels. The etching of each stone must have taken days or even months, depending on how intricate the design is. Occasionally, one of the stones is colored in a recent flourish, but most of them remain as they have for centuries: solemn, delicate reminders of the spiritual life.

This is one of the more intricate ones -- click on it to enlarge.

Day 10: Thorung Phedi to Muktinath

This was the day we'd been anticipating...the day we'd wake up early and ascend 3000 feet to the pass in -20 degree temperatures. We arose together, had a small breakfast, and then said our final goodbyes, as I would be transferring to another village at the end of the trek, and making my way back to Kathmandu, while they were continuing on for another week. I left 10 or 15 minutes ahead of everyone else, as they planned to walk together. It quickly became clear, though, that this was impractical given the temperature. The differing speeds at which everyone walked would have required some people to slow down quite a bit, or stop and wait frequently. And we simply needed to keep moving to generate body heat. The little headlamps bobbing along below me weren't getting any further away, so I knew that a couple of them were keeping a good pace. At the first rest stop (High Camp from the day before), Dante pulled in right as I was about to leave. After a few memorable remarks about how far we had left to go and how much energy it took to get there, most of which I can't repeat here, he decided to join us as we walked on. We gave him some more time to rest, at which point John came up and decided to do the same. They were going to wait a bit to tell the others and then hike their own pace, probably joining us somewhere along the way. Pasang and I hiked on in the dark, and I started to develop that uphill rhythm that makes trekking almost a meditative experience. My footsteps fell in line with my breathing, and we continued to climb, more gently now, through the remaining 2000 feet. The fact that it was dark made it even easier to get lost in my footsteps, as I couldn't really see the scenery around me. After about two hours, a thin line of light drew across the sky, gradually unfurling from the distant ridges until we could turn off the headlamps. We reached the pass within minutes of sunrise, just in time to see the tips of the mountains to the west light up. Then we took a well-deserved break, sheltering ourselves behind a closed tea-house that probably does a much better business over the summer. Pasang brought out two candy bars, which absolutely tasted better than any candy bars I've ever eaten, and we celebrated the high point of the hike. Dante and John were close, and we waited a bit for them to join us, snapping a quick picture at the pass -- it was just too cold to keep our gloves off for too long. Waylen crested the ridge right when we were about to snap the photo, and tried to run to join us, but quickly realized this wasn't going to happen. He slammed to a halt, muttering something about how bad of an idea it was to try and run at that altitude. The four of us then descended through increasing light, reaching Muktinath in another few hours. Andrea and Rachael joined us a few hours later, having taken their time, and enjoying a bit more warmth at the top than we did. Once again, we all bid adieu, for good this time, as I was whisked away to Jomsom, where I would fly out the next day. It was an immensely successful trip in almost every way imaginable.

Thorung La at sunrise

Pasang and I celebrate our trek.

We were able to convince Pasang to shed his gloves one last time for this shot.

On the descent, we were constantly aware of what the mountains looked like behind us.

Near Muktinath, we were able to spot some blue sheep, the famous specimens studied in the classic The Snow Leopard, by Peter Matthieson. Blue sheep are actually hybrids of sheep and goats.

The village of Muktinath is a famous pilgrimmage site, well known for its complex of temples combining the Buddhist and Hindu faiths. Prayer flags litter the hills entering the village.

The Vishnu temple has 108 water spouts. Bathing under each one is supposed to bring enlightenment.

For obvious reasons, I decided enlightenment could wait.

Day 9: Yak Kharka to Thorung Phedi

Phedi means "foot" and today's hike was to the foot of Thorung Peak, and our last hike before the ascent to Thorung La, or Thorung Pass. It was again a short hike, but gained about a thousand feet of altitude, to 14,600. One thousand feet doesn't seem like much, but at this altitude, its impact is considerably greater. The air is now noticeably thinner, and finding a reasonable rhythm to the hike is paramount. Thorung Phedi consists of two guesthouses, one of which has a sun room that provided luxurious warmth for the afternoon after our hike.

After lunch, Waylen, John and I spent a couple hours taking an acclimatization hike up to High Camp, which, at about 15,600 feet, was a valuable but tiring exertion. The true benefit of High Camp, in my opinion, was a little dash we took up to an overlook, another ten minutes up, that provided stunning views of the whole valley and a glimpse of what was to come tomorrow. Additionally, we would be waking up so early the next morning that we'd be covering this stretch in darkness, so it was nice to get to see it. The panorama from our perch was especially rewarding, and provided a place for me to hang prayer flags, since I anticipated non-functioning hands the next day at the pass.

Rachael makes her way to Thorung Phedi.

Looking back, we could see the trail that guided us through the valley below.

Andrea in front of Thorung Peak. We're about 10 minutes from Thorung Phedi at this point.

This was taken from our perch at High Camp.

This panorama of the view from High Camp can be enlarged by clicking on it.

Posing behind the prayer flags I left for the elements.

Back in the sun room, I'm wearing the "Scarf of Shame." This scarf, picked up in Kathmandu, was awarded nightly to someone who exemplified shame through their actions over the past 24 hours. Whoever held the scarf would officially open up nominations at dinner, whereupon we would recount with great relish each other's inspiringly embarrassing behavior from the day, and then vote on the winner. The winner had to either wear the scarf or have it within 10 seconds of their body. Examples of winning behavior included slipping and falling on ice that the guide had JUST told us to avoid, losing one's passport (found by other members of the group), failing to clean one's hair, dumping a whole jar of salt into one's soup, etc. I earned the scarf for the extraordinarily shameful act of not having won the scarf before my last full day with the group. The Scarf of Shame was just one of many traditions that took hold on this hike, and I'm grateful for having had the good fortune of hiking with five such good-spirited people. Waylen, John, Rachael, Andrea, and Dante truly made this hike a memorable one, whether with our nightly card-playing, the many conversations we had while hiking, the sharing of food, the post-dinner journal-writing sessions, and the more general sharing of joy and suffering. I look forward to staying in touch with all of them.

The next morning, we would wake up early and begin our ascent to the pass. Since the weather was so cold, we wouldn't necessarily be hiking together, having to continue moving to generate body heat. We said our goodbyes before bed that night, and planned to see each other briefly once more in the groggy pre-dawn hour before our hike.

Day 8: Manang to Yak Kharka

After Manang, the daily mileage goes down as trekkers forsake distance for altitude. We only hiked 3 or 4 hours this day, but went up to about 13,700 feet. At this point in the trek, there are no longer villages -- simply a few spots containing a guest house or two, designed specifically for trekkers on their way to the pass. In season, these spots are packed. At this time of year, we were fairly isolated. The landscape, too, becomes more barren, consisting mostly of rocks and dirt paths, leaving behind the trees and vegetation characteristic of lower altitudes. All of this lends to the growing drama associated with approaching an 18,000 foot pass, and tends the hiker's focus toward that singular element of the trek.

The "Om Mani Padme Hung" mantra written on a rock marks the Thorung valley, and provides the only relief to an otherwise harsh landscape. This type of terrain had us focused more than ever on getting over the pass.

Rachael makes her way along a prayer wheel wall just outside one of the last villages we passed.

An old stupa with several mani stones at the base. Look for a future post highlighting the intricate work that can be found on these stones, most of which say "Om Mani Padme Hung."

At these altitudes, ice didn't melt so easily. This section of a stream looked like it was settling in for the winter.

The guest house that is Upper Yak Kharka, where we stayed for the night, is in the lower right of the photo.

Yak Kharka means "yak fields," and sure enough...

Annapurna III as seen through the gate to our guest house.

Rest Day in Manang

Christmas Day was a day of rest. We stopped in Manang, elevation 11,800', to acclimatize and take advantage of the many day hikes you can make from the village. The object was to get a little bit higher and let our systems adjust to the altitude before moving on. Before the day began, the group with whom I'd be hiking appointed me Santa Claus to deliver presents to their Secret Santas. When everyone woke up, there were gifts at their seats around the dining room table. They opened them with breakfast, and we all set out on our morning hike, to a glacial lake just across the valley. We then continued hiking up to a ridge overlooking the village and peering far down the valley we had been walking up for the past several days. Finally it was time to return for lunch, another hearty, carbohydrate-filled meal of pasta and veggies.

After lunch, while many in the crew went Christmas shopping in town, searching for those post-holiday markdowns, I headed down the valley a bit, back to the village of Braga. I remembered passing through it the day before, and spotting a monastery up on the hillside. When I read in my guidebook that this monastery was over 500 years old, and housed an impressive collection of books and Buddhas, I decided to make the trip back. The trick was finding someone to open it for me, as the town was deserted for the season. After climbing up to the monastery and finding no one, I was headed down when I heard some pounding from a nearby house. The problem was finding the people. As I mentioned before, these tiny villages are made up of maze-like alleys, and whenever I felt like I was getting close to the sound, I'd end up an alley or two above where I thought it was. This continued for a Wonderland-like while until I finally just stood down on the road and shouted "Namaste" toward the sound. A little head appeared, and shortly after her parents showed up. We then did that little non-verbal dance whereby I indicated to them that I'd like to see the monastery, and they told me to hang on. A few minutes later, a woman showed up with a little baby in a papoose on her back, and she led me back up to the monastery, taking a couple breaks to catch our breath on the way. Once inside, she commenced lighting candles and incense, and rinsing out old bowls, while I looked around. After I gave a donation, she tied a red string around my neck and wished me luck crossing the pass. She then spent a few seconds getting the prayer wheel spinning for good measure, after which we walked outside and were on our merry way.

This half-frozen lake is runoff from the Gangapurna glacier.

The village of Braga, with the monastery situated on top.

This is a profile of the monastery. I followed the steps on the left side of the picture up and into some abandoned rooms, but the main sanctuary was locked.

So I headed back down into the village, into a maze of houses like this, until I found help.

This is the giant prayer wheel at the entrance to Braga Gompa.

The monastery is home to over 600 books, which are basically piles of paper with hand-written script that are bound by wooden tablets on either side and then wrapped in cloth.

The 100 or so images of the Buddha, large and small, line the lower sanctuary.

My host was busy lighting new candles and cleaning out old prayer bowls.

You can see the papoose on the woman's back, and the rows of books lining the top of the monastery. The buddhas lined the cases on the bottom.

Day 6: Pisang to Manang

Day 6 was Christmas Eve, and saw our group getting in the holiday spirit. Dante broke out his Santa hat, and we all seemed to find sweets to share with each other at dinner that night. The hike itself was one of the best of the whole trek. There are two routes from Pisang to Manang, one which stays by the river and takes 3 or 4 hours, and one which climbs up the valley and countours the mountains -- this takes about 8 hours. We opted for the higher, not only because it's more scenic, but because it would allow us to ascend to about 12,000 feet before descending to 11,800 feet for the night. A general guideline for acclimatization is hike high and sleep low.

The morning started with a steep climb to Ghyaru, a nice way to get the blood flowing since it was well below freezing at night. By the time we reached the village, the sun was warming the day and we could afford to lose a few layers. Ghyaru is another tiny hillside village, much like Upper Pisang, where we took the chance to rest at the monastery and snap some photos, including my favorite one of the whole trip. We then meandered along at roughly the same altitude until arriving at Ngawal, the next village and our stop for lunch. After that, the trail descended a bit to the valley, and joined the lower trail, before one final climb into Manang. This was a welcome sight, as we knew we'd be taking an acclimatization day there, perfectly coinciding with Christmas.

Before the big climb, we passed by a relatively tranquil lake.

A slice of this photo, taken at the monastery in Ghyaru, also serves as the banner for the blog.

The crew in front of Gangapurna.

Bir, the guide for the group I joined, and Pasang, my ever cheerful guide.

This musk deer crossed the trail right before I got there; otherwise, I never would have seen it.

These cairns may be memorials; they were positioned on an outcropping between Ghyaru and Ngawal.

Rachael makes her way along the high route. The trail splays out before her on the distant hillside.

If you enlarge this photo (by clicking on it), you can see a person standing on the outcropping in the lower middle part of the picture. That should give you some sense for the scale of the Himalayas. Many of these pictures simply aren't large enough to take in their immensity.

Yaks, above and below, seem just as curious about me as I am about them.

This sort of backyard view would command top dollar in the U.S. I'm not sure this man, in the village of Ngawal, cares about the price of real estate.

Ngawal, as seen looking back from the trail, and the valley below.

Another old stupa, this time looking over the village of Ongre, where the high route joins the low route.

Manang, our destination for the day, provided the first sunset clouds of the trip.

The three pictures above are combined in this panorama (click to expand).