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Posted
on 27-Oct-01 06:01 AM
What follows was written by Mel and Beverly Copen. Please keep in mind that this was written for an American newspaper -- for an audience unfamiliar with Nepal.
Mel -- who lives in Alanta, Georgia -- is a former Harvard Business School
professor who was instrumental in setting up the Indian Institute of
Management in Ahmedabad, India in the 1960s.
Julian M. Sobin - the irrepresible Honorary Consul of Nepal -- passed away this past summer in Boston.
It was my privilege and good fortune to be a part of Mr. Sobin's (May 2000) this 'expedition' to Lo Manthang, Mustang.
Enjoy,
oohi
ashu
ktm,nepal
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A Journey to Lo Manthang
Mel and Beverly Copen
Nepal is a wonderful country for tourists. In this limited space it is impossible to do it justice: the Himalayas, towering so high that pilots call it the place with rocks in the clouds; the fascinating cities of Katmandu, Patan and Baktipur; magnificent scenery at every turn; and everywhere, smiling faces and warm hospitality. It is difficult to avoid superlatives when talking about Nepal. But most incredible of all was our trek back into the 10th century to the "forbidden Kingdom of Mustang."
It began with a telephone call from a dear friend of many years. Julian Sobin, at age 80, is still, among many other things, one of those very rare, world-class, adventure travelers. Building upon a relationship dating to World War II, he is Nepal's Honorary Consul General for the eastern US. He had obtained a trekking permit for Mustang (pronounced "moostang") in the northern Himalayas and was assembling a group. For a week or so we could turn the clock back a thousand years. It took two seconds to make the decision - a bit longer to change previously-made conflicting plans. A good friend, Kathy Totten, decided to expand the Cumming contingent to three.
Jutting up into Tibet, Mustang (officially the Kingdom of Lo) is an integral part of Nepal. Founded in 1380 by an ancestor of the current king it consists of 7 villages, 6,000 people and a land area 4 times the size of Forsyth County. Its capital, Lo Manthang, has less than 1,000 inhabitants. Since China's take-over of Tibet, it is now the purest repository of Tibetan religion. Many of its monasteries were constructed in the 8th century and life and religious practice have not changed much since then. In 1992, the government of Nepal started issuing permits, annually, to a maximum of 800 trekkers. Previously, recorded history shows less than a dozen foreign visitors.
We had never been to Nepal and did not know what to expect. We read whatever we could find about Mustang and a bit about high-altitude trekking. We would spend 5 days hiking through a part of the earth that has no roads or vehicles, no electricity, no telephones - at an average altitude of 12,500 feet. We would live in tents, eat the local fare, boil our water and hike 7-8 hours a day. The trekking outfitter would supply all of our heavy gear.
Three months ahead we started making our preparations. We purchased the supplies we would need (everything from trekking poles and good cold and wet-weather clothing to antibiotics and altitude-sickness medications). We started getting in shape, walking long distances every day and adding weights to our backpacks to try to simulate the differences in altitude.
We would be 12, 11 Americans and one Nepalese. We agreed to meet in the capital, Katmandu, a week ahead of the trek to tour some of the country. But everything else was really incidental to our main objective - Mustang. The trip was timed so that we would arrive in Lo Manthang at the start of the three-day Tiji festival, its major annual event,. Unfortunately, this coincided with the start of monsoon season.
Fortunately, the trek portion of our journey went through a region that normally misses the torrential downpours that affect other parts of the country. We planned to remain in Lo Manthang for the entire three-day festival and then helicopter out to Katmandu.
Just prior to our departure we learned that anti-government Maoist forces had increased accelerated their ongoing attacks on police outposts. Wow! After checking with local sources, including the US Embassy, we decided to go. As it turned out, during the entire trip we saw no signs of political unrest. Additionally, the monsoon cooperated with little rain and that only at convenient times.
The trip was full of pleasant surprises. The first was Katmandu. We expected a dirty, cluttered, uncomfortable city. It was crowded, including cattle wandering in the streets, but it was cleaner than anticipated and except for incessant, insistent street vendors, really very pleasant.
Our hotel, one of several five star establishments, was reasonably priced and was able to meet virtually every expectation, including high-speed Internet connections. Katmandu contains a number of impressive Buddhist stupas and Hindu temples. The ancient city center, Durbar Square, houses many palaces, temples and shrines, most dating from the 18th century, and many with beautifully carved woodwork and fascinating roof designs. But Durbar Square was only a "teaser" for the architectural splendor of the neighboring cities of Patan and Baktipur.
The magnificence of their concentrated groupings of architectural masterpieces is overwhelming. The woodwork is exquisite, as is the styling of many of the buildings. We were surprised to learn that one pagoda form that we had thought to be Chinese actually originated in Nepal. It truly is a photographer's paradise. Although the aggressiveness of the street vendors was annoying at these major tourist sites, many of the things they had to offer were interesting, the prices were right if one bargained astutely, and after a bit of "learning the game" it was possible to engage in interesting conversation. English is widely used and generally well spoken.
Visits to several small villages outside of Katmandu took us back several centuries (it is amazing how quickly the modern signs of civilization disappear once you hit the outskirts of the city). In each we found large numbers of the populace engaged in voluntary public-works projects, improving drainage, adding sidewalks, etc. Additionally, since electricity is expensive and the houses are constructed to conserve heat rather than admit light, much of the day-to-day activity takes place outdoors. Women in colorful dresses spinning wool, thrashing wheat, cleaning kitchen utensils and carrying out chores of the day brightened the drabness of the streets.
One morning we took a spectacular dawn flight to see the sweep of the Himalayas. On our eastward leg, the incredible peaks jutted though heavy cloud cover against a pure blue sky. The top of Everest was serene, without the slightest hint of the trials and tribulations usually experienced by climbers. The return flight took us closer to the mountains. There was no cloud cover and we were able to see these 27-29,000 foot high legends from base to peak, including vistas of magnificent lakes, rivers and gorges around and between them.
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| ashu |
Posted
on 27-Oct-01 06:06 AM
Our next stop was in Terai, the lowlands south of Katmandu, to visit the Royal Chitwan National Park. The 5-hour bus trip was spectacular. We had never anticipated the beauty of Nepal's scenery. In Terai, everything is green. Every mountainside is covered with terraces, and in many, people in colorful garb were planting or harvesting wheat, rice or barley. The road followed several white-water rivers and went through spectacular gorges. Then, on elephant back, we had close-up views of Chitwan's white rhinos - but we never did see the tigers. An equally spectacular drive then took us to Pokhara - our jumping off point for the trek.
Pokhara turned out to be another superlative. We stayed in the in the new Fulbari Resort Hotel, a 5-star facility that should be on every list of the top 10 in the world. Each of us vowed that someday we would return to this spot. The main building is accented with beautiful Nepalese architectural touches, both inside and out. A huge swimming pool that gives the illusion of cascading over a cliff accompanies a full range of sports facilities. But the setting is so spectacular that it has to rate 10 stars by itself. The resort is on the edge of a plateau where three spectacular, wide canyons merge, forming a “Y”. The hotel sits at the point of the Y.
The walls of two of the three the canyons are very steep, green, and serrated, and the shadows they throw give it a mystical appearance. The third canyon is much broader, with a wide river coursing through it. The view from the edge of the hotel pool takes in waterfalls, temples, rivers, goats, people doing their thing and everything else going on in the canyons. It seems to be an artist's rendition of a fantasy, rather than anything that could be real.
We spent two days wandering in semi-tropical Pokhara (lots of shops, restaurants, good walks) and then early in the morning of the third day, headed to the airport where our real adventure would begin - a flight in a small plane through Himalayan passes to the town of Jomosom. Our route would follow the Kali Gandaki River, through the deepest gorge in the world. Jomosom, at an altitude of 9,000 feet, was our destination, a tiny town with stone houses, a few shops, unpaved streets and several small, Spartan but clean hotels. Electricity and telephones would still be available. This would be our jumping-off point for the trek.
The government liaison official (required) and the trek leader, along with several other trekking crewmembers, met us in Pokhara. The rest of the crew and all of the equipment were waiting for us in Jomosom. Since ponies would carry the heavy gear, the crew would be "modest" in size (one pony equates to two human bearers). With guides, porters, kitchen staff, people to set up and take down camp and the pony masters, 29 people would look after the 12 of us!
We would be a 41-person, 20-pony caravan. Almost everything we needed would be carried with us, to some extent as the result of government policy to limit impact on the local culture. In case of an emergency, at best, assuming good weather, we would be one to two days away from outside help. Fortunately, all we would have to carry in our backpacks were the personal effects that we might require while walking - drinking water, extra layers of clothing, cameras and the like.
We left our luxurious hotel that morning for the Pokhara airport, full of excitement and eagerly looking forward to our adventure. We all wondered what lay ahead
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| ashu |
Posted
on 27-Oct-01 06:12 AM
We left our luxurious hotel that morning for the Pokhara airport, full of excitement and eagerly looking forward to our adventure. We all wondered what lay ahead. Our group of 12 (three of us from Forsyth County) was about to start our journey to the "forbidden" kingdom of Mustang, a tiny part of Nepal which extends north from the Himalayas into Tibet.
It was a beautiful morning. The trek leader and five members of our team met us at the airport. The commercial flight was scheduled to depart at 8 a.m., flying north over a mountain pass and through the Kali Gandaki River Gorge to Jomosom where we would meet the rest of our Sherpa crew to begin the trek. The 18 passenger plane would only take 20 minutes to get there, but it was important to arrive before 10:30 a.m. after which the winds would make it impossible to land or take off in Jomosom. At the airport we learned that the pass had been clouded in for three days and no flights been possible. But today, things looked good.
Jomosom is also the starting point for Nepal's most popular trek, the Annapurna Circuit. Two planeloads of trekkers had been waiting to fly there from Pokhara. They had priority and we would have to wait for the aircraft to make two round trips before we could depart. We anxiously watched the clock and the sky. The first flight left and returned.
Then the second, but by now the sky to the North was filled with clouds. The pass was still open, but closing in fast. The pilot decided to try it and we took off at 9:30, only to find the pass completely socked in. We felt an incredible sense of disappointment as the plane returned to Pokhara. Our trek had been planned to coincide with Mustang's major festival, and any delay would be critical.
Ingenuity and a bit of foolhardiness to the forefront! There were two small helicopters at the airport. They were for hire and two pilots were available. They might get in under the clouds, if we could beat the wind. We would go in two shifts (4-5 people to an aircraft depending on weight of the people and the luggage). The Cumming contingent went in the lead helicopter. Our flight was SPECTACULAR! We flew low.
The mountainsides, terraces, villages, the river and gorge, and glimpses of peaks through the cloud cover were indescribably beautiful. We arrived in Jomosom, a rocky, barren, windswept place, without incident but overwhelmed with the beauty of what we had seen. The second aircraft arrived minutes later and then both returned to Pokhara for the rest of our party.
The third flight made it in with the last of our trekkers, the trek leader and the government liaison officer, but it encountered low ceilings and intense wind gusts, turning the flight into a white-knuckle experience as they hung on for dear life and saw little along the way. The 4th chopper, bringing key members of our trekking crew, had to turn back. But all the trekkers and the two staff people most needed had arrived, a bit late, but in time to keep to the schedule.
As soon as the 3rd helicopter landed, we started our trek. It was an easy 3 hours to our first campsite, a village just south of Kagbeni, but it gave us a sample of the incredible scenery that lay ahead. The tents and cooking facilities had been set up by our reduced Sherpa crew (those stranded in Pokhara caught up with us two days later) when we arrived. In the morning we went on to Kagbeni. You can go no further north without one of the 800 personal permits that are issued each year.
They carry a high fee of $700 apiece, designed both to limit demand and provide income for Mustang. (Sadly, we later learned that the central government now keeps all but $15 of the fee.). We cleared with the authorities at Kagbeni, said farewell to telephones, electricity and the like and began our journey into the unknown.
It was 5 days of incredible scenery. The trek was strenuous at times. Our 3 months of preparation really paid off. There is no such thing as "level" in Nepal. Everything is up or down. The slopes were often steep and sometimes slippery. At altitudes up to 14,500 feet, we constantly stopped to catch our breath. At some places the main trail was no more than 18 inches wide, clinging to the side of cliffs, with drops of a thousand feet or more. Some parts were even narrower.
We learned how valuable two trekking poles can be - they really made a difference. The times walking apart from the group were particularly memorable, alone with nothing but the wind and the vast expanse of the scenery. We did hire additional local ponies so everyone could ride when they wished, but mostly we walked.
There were many places so steep or narrow that it was impossible to ride anyway and sitting on a pony is a mixed blessing. You can relax and look around more - the ponies are sure-footed and know the trail, whereas walking requires you to look down constantly, as the trail was often full of rocks and littered with pony, mule, goat and other droppings. But then certain parts of the human anatomy were never designed to mesh with ponies.
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| ashu |
Posted
on 27-Oct-01 06:17 AM
During the trek we encountered brightly decorated pony caravans carrying construction materials and other goods. Most cargo, however, was carried on the backs of people, using straps that ran around the forehead. We saw everything being carried this way - cases of Fanta and beer (drunk warm - no refrigeration), large pieces of furniture and small generators and gasoline (used mainly to run irrigation pumps). "Piggy-back" is often used to carry injured people to medical facilities.
We trekked from village to village. Each was a green oasis in an otherwise bleak (but beautiful) setting. In most, streams ran through and around the villages. Rice and wheat were grown in neatly terraced, irrigated fields. No electricity (except for a few small generators running water pumps), no vehicles (no way to navigate the trails except on two or four feet), and no modern amenities (including medical facilities). We were now back in the 10th century.
The entrances to most villages went by or through large stone gateways, each painted in the colors of the local Buddhist sect. Hundreds of prayer flags flapped from every rooftop. The houses, two and three stories high, were constructed of stone abutting together. Typically, stairs went up to the 2nd floor but further access was via ladders made from logs, split in half, with tiny steps carved into them.
The streets, narrow canyons between the stone walls of the houses, were normally unpaved, had ditches or streams running through them and were liberally sprinkled with animal droppings. Wandering through a village was like wandering through a maze and it was very easy to become disoriented. But like being on the trail, at every turn there was another scene to delight or surprise - including occasionally flashes of terror when a flock of goats or ponies would come charging from the other direction.
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| ashu |
Posted
on 27-Oct-01 06:19 AM
We visited a number of ancient monasteries, most containing beautiful Tibetan-style murals and hanging tapestries (tankas). Many of the monks had been educated outside of Mustang and were interested in talking with us and responding to our unending series of questions.
We camped in the yards of "hotels," houses that provided a dark room where we could sit and eat the food prepared by our staff. The typical hotel contained a ground floor which housed the animals and an upstairs with one or more large meeting rooms (the "restaurant"), a kitchen (with open fires fueled by wood, dung or kerosene and no chimney), living quarters for the family (extended style), a few very Spartan sleeping rooms to rent (typically $1-2/night) and a hole in the floor which served as a toilet (and through which waste dropped to the 1st floor where it was collected periodically for fertilizer, etc.).
Dark and smelly, but a place to get out of the wind and "relax." There was usually access to the roof - spectacular views and storage for wood (all brought in by foot from Pokhara and surroundings). And there was usually an outside courtyard (invariably walled in) where we would camp, often among goats, sheep and ponies.
Water in the villages is filled with every known microbe and probably many that are unknown. The world is everyone's toilet. There was at least one central village water station where everyone came to wash themselves, dishes, clothing and animals and which provided drinking water for humans and animals alike. The children were friendly, but all that we saw had caked runny noses that they didn't bother to wipe.
Sanitation was also of the 10th century. We were careful to wash before meals and keep as clean as we could, and our crew was scrupulous about hygiene. As a result, we had few problems within our group, and those were only minor.
The daily trekking pattern started with a 5:30 wake-up call, accompanied by a bowl of hot water for washing. Breakfast was at 6: 00. An ample supply of boiled drinking water was provided for our personal water bottles. By 6:30 we were off as the crew finished breaking camp. Lunch was served at 11:30, often using the facilities of a teahouse in a village or at an isolated way-station. We would arrive at our next village campsite by 4, take "tea" at 4:30 (the trekking crew would take short cuts, at top speed, to set up ahead of us) and then have plenty time to explore.
Dinner at 7:30 and then, wonderful time to stretch out and sleep. Food was simple, but always excellent and hygienically prepared. The only food issue came about after one of the few dinners when fresh meat was served and one of trekkers notice that the cute goat tethered in the courtyard below that she had played with earlier, was missing.
The first few days we followed the river. Each bend and hilltop produced new breathtaking vistas. The scenery was incredible. We saw fantastic rock formations, spectacular vistas and fascinating canyons, some of which rivaled the Grand Canyon in size and color. We had beautiful blue skies punctuated with fluffy white clouds and only occasional brief showers. This gave rise to striking shadows in the crevasses and on the hillsides. We encountered beautiful rivers and waterfalls and areas dotted with low green scrub often laden with pretty, small, blue or yellow flowers.
Behind the hills through which we traveled we had frequent glimpses of the snowcapped peaks of the Annapurna range to the east and Dhaulagiri to the west. The mountain passes were special. The views into infinity would combine with the prayer flags whipping in the wind and the cairns of rocks placed there by prior travelers to create a sense of mysticism. We passed many shrines and gates along the trail, each painted in the pattern of red, black and white stripes that denominated the sect to which it belonged.
From time to time, a lone monastery would be highlighted against the hills in the distance. It was warm enough in the day to trek in T-shirts. The fierce late morning wind would sandblast us three or four times an hour, but the gusts seldom lasted for more than a minute or two. At night, in the clear crisp air, fleece jackets came in handy.
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| ashu |
Posted
on 27-Oct-01 06:23 AM
Along the way there were several hotels and tea (guest) houses (Names like “Hill-ton,” “Sheri-ton” and “Holiday Inn.”) - places to eat or sleep - mostly for locals. Once we left Kagbeni, we met only three other foreign groups, each much smaller than our own, and all on their way to the festival. The local people were very friendly, the men were small and wiry - very Tibetan looking - the young women surprisingly pretty, although they aged quickly. Young people had beautiful smiles and excellent teeth whereas the older ones were missing many teeth, largely due to gum diseases.
Five days of trekking brought us to the capital, Lo Manthang. It seemed that most of the kingdom's residents were there for the Tiji festival, all in their best dress. It clearly was a local function. Our group easily accounted for a third of the foreign contingent. The Tiji festival reenacts, in music and dance, a religious story of good conquering evil. The principle activity takes place in the main square, really a rectangle enclosed on three sides by the king's palace, shops and "hotels" and a structure at the end which provides a huge wall from which an enormous tapestry (tanka) is hung.
The dignitaries and musicians sit under the tapestry, with the crowd gathered on the long sides and at the open end. Each afternoon, monks in elaborate and colorful costumes did intricate dances to music (horns, gongs and drums) played by other monks. The evening offered many different types of entertainment to which we were warmly invited. Groups from different villages presented their traditional music or dances in their traditional dress. Young people gathered in the streets to listen to western music.
And there was even a "cinema" showing a videotaped Indian movie on a small-screen TV set (Lo Manthang has limited electricity). One of the highlights of our stay visit was a formal audience with the King in his palace. He had pleasant recollections of his visit to the US in 1996. He spoke through an interpreter and came across as a very friendly and caring man.
By the time our departure date rolled around, we were all exhausted and ready to get back to warm showers, hamburgers, and beds without rocks in them. Two helicopters were supposed to arrive between 7:30 and 8 a.m. that morning to take us out. But, for the first time on the trek, the morning weather was bad - heavily overcast and windy. Camp had been broken, the trekking crew had prepared and marked a landing spot, and by 7:30 sharp we were at the site, fretting about the wind and the clouds, but eagerly listening for any sound that might resemble rotors.
An hour later, with straining ears, we were still waiting. A sense of dread was setting in, as wonderful as the trip had been, emotionally, none of us were eager to pitch camp again. Some members of the group had airline connections the next day out of Katmandu. Then, for the 10th time, someone thought they heard something. Was it wishful hearing? But sure enough, to the euphoric cheers of the group, a speck in the sky materialized into a 20+-passenger military helicopter - the only craft in Nepal that could carry a group our size in the weather we were experiencing.
The flight back was again incredible, both for the scenic views and for the emotional relief that was shared by all. We left Nepal with fantastic memories, great pictures, and a wonderful experience with the people and country. Everywhere we turned there was adventure, something to learn and something to appreciate. It's not a trip for the faint hearted, but for those who enjoy outdoor adventure, it would be hard to beat the experience. THE END
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