What the Trek

Home Sweet Home on night 2

Defying the throngs of guides offering their services across Nepal, Max and Eli decide to pack up their tent and stove, and move into the Himalayan foothills in search of adventure.

The trek began by marching straight out of our guesthouse and walking all the way East out of Pokhara until the buildings and bustle of the city was replaced by small stone houses and incredible landscapes. We walked for over three hours until we could walk no more: literally, the road ended in a big river. So being the adventurers that we are, we took off our boots and socks, and followed a gaggle of laundry-minded Nepali women, only gently cussing under our breath as we looked fondly at the suspension bridge overhead. Once across the river we climbed enormous bales of rocks tied together with wire and found ourselves on a path at the edge of the jungle. We continued up the path of (not so) conveniently placed rocks, quickly climbing around 2000 feet in elevation. By the time we reached the first village, we were rather desperate for pani  (water) but luckily there was some type of well next to the path filled with cool but possibly poisonous water; fortunately we were equipped with iodine and rid the pani of any impurities.

Walking into the village we were immediate celebrities. After a brief conversation in sign language, we explained that we were looking for somewhere to pitch a tent and three women sent us onwards and upwards to the next village. An older man walked us up a path into a village of about 20 houses complete with a bunch of teenagers playing soccer. We threw up our tent and then joined the boys in a vigorous (and humbling) game of volleyball. Fatigued and starving, we excused ourselves to cook our dinner of baked beans, green peas, and tuna, much to the entertainment of our teammates who packed around tightly to watch. Exhausted we fell asleep at the edge of the volleyball court (dirt, obviously).

We awoke all too soon to the gentle calls of “good morning” and “what are you doing?,” to which we could only reply, “sleeping.” We exited to find a growing number of women of all ages, very interested in our belongings and seemingly infatuated with our peanut butter. After a quick breakfast (porridge), we started off further into the jungle crossing rice paddies, waterfalls, miniscule villages, and treacherous slippery rocks until we found the road to Kalika. [Quick sidenote: up until this point we knew the name of the river we had crossed, but outside of that really had no clue where we actually were, luckily everyone knew, and could understand our pronunciation   of “Kalika,” and pointed us in the right direction].

Max tries to pack up while we are peppered with questions by curious onlookers

In Kalika we rested our weary feet at the first establishment that resembled a restaurant; unfortunately it also turned out to be home of the World’s Most Expensive Dal Baht, the national dish and notoriously cheap eat of Nepal. We continued on for a few hours, further up the hills (which by the way, any American would refer to as a mountain) until we reached what we thought was Tawaridanda (which it was?). After contemplating taking over a seemingly abandoned home for our own, a friendly man convinced us that there were great camping spots just further down the road, and he was right.

We set up shop next to a local government building with a beautiful lawn, handed out a few balloons and pens to some passing children [it’s all pens, balloons, and chocolate with these kids], cooked up a delicious Nepali Ramen dinner (far superior to USA Ramen), and passed out. The next morning, we once again awoke to giggles; little did we know that word of white faces with pens and balloons would travel like wild fire across the countryside; within ninety minutes of leaving the tent at least a dozen locals were hounding us for more pens (including a particularly adamant grandmother), and we had to resist the adorable faces to teach an important lesson about entitlement and the word “please.” Eventually, Eli even had to resort to the nuclear option “bhahg” (“get lost”), which only amplified the giggling.

These kids REALLY like balloons and pens

                                                                                         A typical village home

Already exhausted but riding high on a moral victory, we set down the path to a big lake, Begnas Tal, again through the sweltering jungle until we came to the river delta. We said we wanted a boat to cross the lake and save our feet, and a young man explained that there would be one any minute. In the meantime, we were free to chat with children and listen to this young man’s cell phone as he blasted distorted versions of songs we had never heard [this has been one of the most intriguing discoveries of our trip: many Nepalis have “mobiles” nicer than our own, and perpetually play music on them no matter what they or anyone around them are doing at the time. Even in some of the smallest villages we passed, there were cell phone sightings. It’s strange]. After ninety minutes, repeated demands for pens, balloons, chocolate, and money, it became apparent that no boat was coming any time soon, so we took off down the river, accompanied by two kids. After twenty minutes of walking in a bog, and Eli almost drowning in “quick-mud” (really, up to his thighs), we found the legendary boat, complete with boatmen. Boat supply was incredibly low for a lakeside community, and demand increasingly high, so we accepted the scam-tastic rate that was offered (slightly brought down by Eli’s ingenuity) and after an hour we were across the lake.

Crossing Begnas Tal on a rather expensive boat ride

Now we know we said we would be gone for 4-8 days, but sitting in a restaurant in what turned out to be a major town with ample bus transport, the Acclimates decided that the mini-trek had been a success and that we would resupply our cache of pens and return to the jungle soon. We hopped the first bus back to Pokhara smelling of bog and tropical sweat to recharge and seek the next adventure.