TRAVEL

BUSINESS NEWS | 35

TRAVEL

34 | BUSINESS NEWS

BEYOND EVEREST…- Old-Style Trecking in Nepal

A red glow has woken me as light from the dawn sun, rising over the mountains, hits the side of my red tent. Still drowsy, I wait for the morning routine to start. There’s a rustle outside the tent and Phurba says: ‘Morning, Sir! Tea or coffee?’

I can’t manage a hot drink in a sleeping bag, so somehow I extract myself and, after a series of challenging contortions, emerge from my tent – decently clothed, boots on the correct feet (although the latter does take two attempts).

I feel like I could flap my arms and fly. Standing at the edge of a terrace with the nearest village a 1000-metre drop below, your mind certainly flies, even if your gravity-challenged body cannot.

My viewpoint, in Mustang, Nepal, overlooks the deepest valley in the world. That is not hyperbole. At the bottom of the valley your altitude is 2,600 metres. On the east side of the valley is Annapurna, on the west side, Dhaulagiri. Both are over 8000 metres high – which gives 5400 metres of verticality - more than five kilometres… up.

Phurba appears again: ‘Hot washing water, Sir?’ He presents me with a bowl of warm water.

The kitchen crew have been up since before dawn. Laxmi has – somehow - made delicious cinnamon scrolls on a kerosene cooker. Ram has made porridge and omelettes. Ratna, Rabi, and Bishal are about to set off up the trail, getting a head start in front of our slow-moving main party. They have to get to our designated lunch spot – and cook lunch – before we arrive. Nishan and Mamu will stay behind to do our breakfast dishes.

The other western members of the trekking group arrive at the dining tent. I watch them nervously, because tired trekkers are invariably grumpy trekkers. And if they didn’t have earplugs they will certainly be tired trekkers. The dogs in Ghiling village below us howled like banshees all night. Either there was a snow leopard on the prowl, or Ghiling dogs just enjoy howling like banshees. One dog in particular had mastered the art of circular breathing. It did not pause all night.

The three young boys from Jumla who are hitching a ride with us to Lo Manthang, where they will become monks, are already chasing each other round in circles – as they will do all day – making the distance they trek around five times longer than strictly necessary. Not that they care.

Tashi, Lopsang, and Gongbu are busy saddling up 10 beautifully trained Tibetan ponies. We ride them along the ankle-twisting stones of the Kali Gandaki Gorge, and over all the passes – but we walk down hill. The tinkle of their bells and the horsemen’s whistles are a constant soundtrack in the vast quietness of the mountains.

The pony’s saddles are an elaborate combination of wooden frame, cushion and Tibetan carpet. They look comfortable and beautiful – but looks deceive. When riding, the trick is to find a meditative space where you separate mind and body – and specifically separate your brain from the signals coming from your bum.

While we eat breakfast, half the sherpas – Dawa, Rupan and Small Ram – pull down the tents and get everything ready to be loaded on to the dozen mules we use to carry equipment and food. We are completely self sufficient in food and fuel (kerosene) because we are travelling to the Tibetan Plateau,

a high-altitude desert where there is no guaranteed food surplus.

Big Ram should be helping with the tents, but he has a knack with animals so he is off with the mule men, Sunil and Samdu, trying to find the mules. Tibetans don’t like to use hobbles and the mules have mule-ishly wandered off during the night.

Norbu, the Sirdar (trek manager) is irrepressibly cheerful, energetic and charismatic. But the missing mules are stressing him – the morning is not going to plan - and he is uncharacteristically short with the rest of the sherpas who are lounging in the sun playing a Tibetan version of Knuckles.

Normally the other sherpas - Rupan, Pushpa, Dhan and Mirkandra - would now be helping load the mules. They and the mules will keep walking while we eat our leisurely lunch, because they also have to get ahead of the main group, so they can get to the next campsite and have all the tents set up before we arrive.

Big Ram, Dawa, Rupan and Small Ram, will walk with us and keep company with those that are walking ahead or dawdling behind. You’re never alone. Today Dawa walks with me (I’m a dawdler). He reassures me the clouds do not mean rain (he is right), he explains which crops are ripening in the fields, he jokes with some monks we meet on the trail, he tells me about his new baby daughter, and we talk about Australia and whether there is work…

This, with minor variations, is how a proper, old-style, organised, full-service camping trek in Nepal works. It is exactly the way the great Himalayan explorers and climbers of the 19th and 20th centuries travelled.

In some ways, an organised camping trek is a colonial relic – and some Australians are distinctly uncomfortable about the idea of being looked after by a team of people. On this trip, nine Europeans were looked after by 21 Nepalis; an equation that can only work because Nepali wages are so very low.

But, to use a classic Nepali phrase, ‘Ke garne?’ or ‘What to do?’. We could, of course, stand on our egalitarian principles and choose not to travel with a crew. But that would mean 21 people would miss out on being well paid (by Nepali standards) for providing professional trekking services – a job that, in Nepal, is still considered high status and desirable.

In reality, any cheap holiday in Asia is only cheap because of the low cost of local labour.

Unlike Lygon St. waiters, the trekking crew is definitely not servile. They are extremely competent people, proud of their work, and, most importantly, they’re great fun to be with. Spending time with the crew, and getting to know them, is one of the highlights of any organised trek.

Sadly, traditional, organised, full-service camping treks are actually quietly disappearing from Nepal.

Two main trekking routes dominate the consciousness of westerners when they think of Nepal – the Everest Base Camp trek, and the Annapurna Circuit trek – and a full-service trek no longer makes sense on either. Even with cheap Nepali wages, the cost of a full-service trek quickly adds up. Most visitors conclude they don’t need a traditional set-up, and if they’re heading to Everest or Annapurna they’re right.

An inveterate traveller and former Global Publisher for Lonely Planet, Richard Everist has seen the check-ins and departure lounges of more airports than he cares to remember. But he also has an extraordinary collection of travel stories to share, and we are chuffed that he will be sharing them with you in each edition of the Business News.

TRAVEL

36 | BUSINESS NEWS

BEYOND EVEREST…

RIchARd EVERIST

Frighteningly dangerous roads now flank the Annapurna Massif – so trucks take the place of mules and porters, jeeps and buses take the place of ponies; no one needs a guide (follow the road!), and you certainly don’t need a tent, or even a sleeping bag, because every village is full of ‘hotels’. There’s cold beer, Coke and apple pies wherever you stop.

Roads have made less of an impact on the Everest trek, which runs across the grain of the land – up and down, up and down - but there is a constant flood of trekkers on the trail and the sheer force of numbers mean that every village is full of hotels and restaurants, which you really have no choice but to use. Needless to say, even the famed hospitality of the Sherpa people has become ‘business’.

There are, of course, dozens of possible treks to more remote, less visited parts of Nepal, where traditional organised treks are still viable and, indeed, essential. ‘Remote and less visited’ equates to ‘more interesting and unspoilt’, but very few westerners look beyond Annapurna and Everest.

Two memories from my last trip – both inextricably linked with our trekking crew - come to mind.

One is the ordination ceremony, where the three small boys from Jumla became monks in the 15th century splendour of the Chede Monastery in Lo Manthang. After the new monks were given their new names, my two children followed them to receive a blessing and a kata (ceremonial scarf) from

the Lama. There is absolutely no chance we would have been welcomed into this ceremony had it not been for the involvement of Norbu, a devout Buddhist, our Sirdar, and our friend.

The second memory, on our last night, is our farewell party with the crew. I won’t forget the smiles. I won’t forget the dancing. And I won’t forget the laughs.

Around the Sun

www.aroundthesun.com

Richard Everist started work in the early days of Lonely Planet, and spent his last five years with the company as Global Publisher. He has co-authored

guidebooks to Nepal, South Africa, Papua New Guinea, Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Malta and Britain. He was the CEO of Peregrine Adventures, before moving to Geelong. These days, he runs Around the Sun travel with his wife, Lucrezia Migliore, organising trips to the couple’s favourite corners of the world.