My OperaTo the Misty Lake of Shiva
Sunday, August 10, 2008 6:34:55 AM
Sitting on top of a bus to Bhaktapur, stuck in traffic for two hours in the hot sun and not moving an inch, I watched the skin of Dad's scalp turn pink and realized two things: one, hereditary baldness is not something I find funny anymore, and two, we have to get out of the valley. Luckily, we had planned a three-day trek into the Langtang Himalayas north of Kathmandu to save our sanity. Dad's head was not as fortunate. In the interest of readership, I will describe the former.
The destination was Gosainkund, Shiva's sacred lake. It's 14,366 feet high in the Langtang range, the source of the mighty Trishuli river, and host of an annual crush of about 20,000 Nepali pilgrims. They come for Janai Purnima, the festival of the August full moon, to dip themselves in the water and worship Shiva, who is said to have washed out his mouth in the lake after swallowing poison to save the world. Or so one story goes. We would be going about a half moon before Janai Purnima, so we saw only a little of the crush and a lot of the preparation. But it's all just as well, because there were plenty of better things see instead.
We began on a twelve-hour bus to the town of Dhunche, interrupted twice by landslides (which we had to walk across) and once by a police checkpoint, and once more by a three-hour refuel. This is something I will not miss. But the next day the trek began in earnest as we crossed the Trishuli river and began a steep climb up the other side, about 5,300 feet up in eight hours. It was relentless, switchback after switchback, subtropical heat and plenty of breaks. But with yak cheese fritters to push us on (note: eat these), we made it to the waypoint of Chyolang Pati (11,758 feet) by evening.
The next day, we started early with the promise of a shorter day: only a few hours to Gosainkund. But though the distance was shorter, the air was considerably thinner, and four and a half hours seemed just as grueling as the eight the day before. I figure I'll stop to describe the terrain a little, which never failed to defy even our best worldly comparisons: we passed through, for example, a very spooky fog forest that looked like it belonged in a New England ghost story, but subtropical, and one stretch of the way reminded us of Tolkien's glades...
...but with roaming yaks instead of elves:
Then as we tromped past the treeline on the penultimate push from Chyolang Pati, it began to resemble the Scottish highlands, but with rhododendrons instead of heather, and about twice as high. Finally we stumbled along a high ridge with the sound of waterfalls coming from behind a thick curtain of fog on our immediate right (no literary allusions here, too tired to think of anything but keep going), and made it to Gosainkund by noon.
Dad took a nap and I hung out with some of the local kids:
Then I took my camera and went out for a stroll around the lake (or a devotional clockwise circuit, depending on how devout of a Hindu I didn't know I was). Some luck was in the air, and the sun came out for about two hours. I snapped some of the most interesting photography of my whole vacation there at Gosainkund, the subjects being these little devotional rock piles all around the shallows. I'll showcase a few of my favorites:
Gotta say, it was downright solace. And at a lake of such extraordinary clarity and stillness, I found a place to reflect on my time in Nepal. I won't burden you with any of the unripe introspective ramblings, but let's just say the setting was fitting. I pocketed a rock, had a good meal, and went to bed. The next morning, we set off for Dhunche.
On the morning of the return trip, luck made an unheard-of second pass, and the monsoon cleared to reveal some of the most striking Himalayan scenery you can get in August. It was Dad's first peek of the peaks, and just my second or third, and it was beautiful. The star of the show was Langtang Lirung (23,698 feet) and its little brother Ghengeliru:
But further west was the Ganesh Himal range, and to the north was the Tibetan border (which we could see into several miles) with its impressive snowy slopes, and all around us were budding alpine flowers, and grazing yaks, and ascending porters with huge packs. I hesitate to make the emasculating comparison, but walking down the green slopes was sort of like a more badass "Sound of Music."
One for posterity:
Anyway, the rest of the way down was not so stress-free. Eight-thousand feet down in eight hours is not so kind on the knees, and Dad's ACL started acting up, but we made it to Dhunche in fine condition. Somewhere far off in neighboring China, fireworks were exploding to start the Olympics, but Dad and I were enjoying a surprisingly good apple pie at the Hotel Himalayan Legend and wobbling around on beaten calves.
The next day's ten-hour bus ride back to Kathmandu reminded me just how much I need to get the hell out of here, just about as poignantly as Gosainkund reminded me how little I want to leave. Then, after some last-minute shopping, I retired home for a last meal of dal bhaat with the family and a touch of valedictory scotch.
This is the last blog from Nepal. I'll write one more from India with details of the Taj Mahal and the Jaipur palaces and one more on a more reflective note (spare yourselves if you want, but I promise it won't be too mushy), but this is it from the little place I've called home for two months. I'll see you all soon, on the other side of the world.
Sincerely,
Brendan
The destination was Gosainkund, Shiva's sacred lake. It's 14,366 feet high in the Langtang range, the source of the mighty Trishuli river, and host of an annual crush of about 20,000 Nepali pilgrims. They come for Janai Purnima, the festival of the August full moon, to dip themselves in the water and worship Shiva, who is said to have washed out his mouth in the lake after swallowing poison to save the world. Or so one story goes. We would be going about a half moon before Janai Purnima, so we saw only a little of the crush and a lot of the preparation. But it's all just as well, because there were plenty of better things see instead.
We began on a twelve-hour bus to the town of Dhunche, interrupted twice by landslides (which we had to walk across) and once by a police checkpoint, and once more by a three-hour refuel. This is something I will not miss. But the next day the trek began in earnest as we crossed the Trishuli river and began a steep climb up the other side, about 5,300 feet up in eight hours. It was relentless, switchback after switchback, subtropical heat and plenty of breaks. But with yak cheese fritters to push us on (note: eat these), we made it to the waypoint of Chyolang Pati (11,758 feet) by evening.
The next day, we started early with the promise of a shorter day: only a few hours to Gosainkund. But though the distance was shorter, the air was considerably thinner, and four and a half hours seemed just as grueling as the eight the day before. I figure I'll stop to describe the terrain a little, which never failed to defy even our best worldly comparisons: we passed through, for example, a very spooky fog forest that looked like it belonged in a New England ghost story, but subtropical, and one stretch of the way reminded us of Tolkien's glades...
...but with roaming yaks instead of elves:
Then as we tromped past the treeline on the penultimate push from Chyolang Pati, it began to resemble the Scottish highlands, but with rhododendrons instead of heather, and about twice as high. Finally we stumbled along a high ridge with the sound of waterfalls coming from behind a thick curtain of fog on our immediate right (no literary allusions here, too tired to think of anything but keep going), and made it to Gosainkund by noon.
Dad took a nap and I hung out with some of the local kids:
Then I took my camera and went out for a stroll around the lake (or a devotional clockwise circuit, depending on how devout of a Hindu I didn't know I was). Some luck was in the air, and the sun came out for about two hours. I snapped some of the most interesting photography of my whole vacation there at Gosainkund, the subjects being these little devotional rock piles all around the shallows. I'll showcase a few of my favorites:
Gotta say, it was downright solace. And at a lake of such extraordinary clarity and stillness, I found a place to reflect on my time in Nepal. I won't burden you with any of the unripe introspective ramblings, but let's just say the setting was fitting. I pocketed a rock, had a good meal, and went to bed. The next morning, we set off for Dhunche.
On the morning of the return trip, luck made an unheard-of second pass, and the monsoon cleared to reveal some of the most striking Himalayan scenery you can get in August. It was Dad's first peek of the peaks, and just my second or third, and it was beautiful. The star of the show was Langtang Lirung (23,698 feet) and its little brother Ghengeliru:
But further west was the Ganesh Himal range, and to the north was the Tibetan border (which we could see into several miles) with its impressive snowy slopes, and all around us were budding alpine flowers, and grazing yaks, and ascending porters with huge packs. I hesitate to make the emasculating comparison, but walking down the green slopes was sort of like a more badass "Sound of Music."
One for posterity:
Anyway, the rest of the way down was not so stress-free. Eight-thousand feet down in eight hours is not so kind on the knees, and Dad's ACL started acting up, but we made it to Dhunche in fine condition. Somewhere far off in neighboring China, fireworks were exploding to start the Olympics, but Dad and I were enjoying a surprisingly good apple pie at the Hotel Himalayan Legend and wobbling around on beaten calves.
The next day's ten-hour bus ride back to Kathmandu reminded me just how much I need to get the hell out of here, just about as poignantly as Gosainkund reminded me how little I want to leave. Then, after some last-minute shopping, I retired home for a last meal of dal bhaat with the family and a touch of valedictory scotch.
This is the last blog from Nepal. I'll write one more from India with details of the Taj Mahal and the Jaipur palaces and one more on a more reflective note (spare yourselves if you want, but I promise it won't be too mushy), but this is it from the little place I've called home for two months. I'll see you all soon, on the other side of the world.
Sincerely,
Brendan
