The next week of blog entries has been written after returning from six days journeying to and from the village Phu. It's hard to know what to write, words and pictures can only capture a fraction of what we experienced, both physically and mentally (and emotionally). Over the six days we passed through ancient, abandoned stone villages, sipped milk tea in rock walled, smoke blackened shelters, hugged mountainside's while mule and pony pack trains jangled passed us loaded with supplies for Phu and Nar, scattered off a path on a rocky ridge so a heard of yaks could be driven down the valley. We sat around a kitchen fire in a smoky hut, huddled with a group of Nepali porters, their faces and hands blackened with frost bite, while their boss, a Nepali mountaineer told us how he'd climbed Everest four times. We've slept on dirt floors with ghostly ruins for neighbors, bare wooden floors in huts with no glass for windows, no door to keep out the below zero night, rooms at 4000m lined with scrap plastic in a futile attempt to keep the cold at bay. We've been woken in the dark of night by villagers in uproar at the discovery of visitors trying to peek into a monastery without permission, we've been woken by or slept through the rumble of late night earth tremors.
We've edged our way along impossibly narrow paths barely a few feet wide, 100m above raging glacier feed rivers, crossed countless swing bridges over rivers, gorges, washouts, avalanche beds. Hesitantly found our footings while crossing icy mountain streams that plunged to the larger rivers below, and made our way across tiny wooden bridges of indeterminate age and highly doubtful engineering.
We've been blessed by a wizened old Buddhist nun, giggled at by tiny dirty faced children, barked at by teamsters as the drove their animals forward, shared thoughts with Belgium trekkers and exchanged greetings with French mountaineers. We've been flirted with, pointed at, ignored, laughed at, shown kindness and friendship. But most of all, we've been "nameste" endlessly, and that can't be a bad thing!
All of this, to reach Phu! A place we described as the village at the edge of the world. A place that is so cold, barren and poor, that it is empty of dogs, cats and chickens, a situation I have not found anywhere else. A place that has never seen a car, a motorbike, or a TV. A place so poor that there is nothing to buy or sell. No shops, no stalls of basic goods, no street food of any kind, no vendors of trinkets. At the same time, there are no beggars, no advertising, no rubbish, no hassles, no pollution, no traffic, no noise, no junk, and no crowds! If you've ever wondered what the world was like before the industrial revolution, the information revolution, the technology revolution, consumer revolution, and the sexual revolution, then here is one of Earth's last outposts of the old world.
With all that, the good, the bad and the ugly, the place is still breathtaking. It's the place you are always trying to find when you travel, but are never quite convinced still exists.
So enough now, let's get back to the nuts and bolts of daily travel, and the trials of getting to a place called Phu........
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We woke up to find the weather had improved and it was time to start our trek into the fabled Nar Phu valley, one of the truly remote regions of Nepal, edging towards the southern border of Tibet. First we back tracked to Koto, the entry point to the valley, had our special permits stamped and duly noted and then it was down a non-discript path and across a swing bridge. Now we were on our way!
The Nar Phu valley
Entrance gate
The first swingbridge
We start the way in
The valley entrance is gated by two huge cliffs that tower over the dense pine forest that blankets the valley floor. Running down the middle of the valley is a large, fast flowing river. The narrow pathway clings to the left (facing up river) side of the valley and wanders gently through the conifers. You then come out at the edge of one of those huge cliffs and the path has been blasted from the face of the rock, high above the river. It's quite daunting and you have to remind yourself that this is the only way in and out of the Nar-Phu valley for all the people living there, no roads, just this narrow torturous path that would not qualify as a decent bushwalking track at home. On the other side of the cliff, the path starts to climb slowly through the pine forest, every now and again the path descends a little, but you just know that soon you'll be going up again
Jules and our guide on the cliff path, the only way in.
Commercial transport Phu style
Ponys having a well earned rest
Slowly the valley narrows and soon you come to your first swing bridge crossing of the Nar-Phu river, it's a long bridge, high over the torrent. Shortly after the bridge, we came to a tiny rest stop where a woman was serving tea and drinks in the lean of a rock. A great place for a milk tea and a bit of a rest. Further on at Cahauchha, a gorgeous teahouse overlooking the river has just been built, no accommodation yet, but a perfect place for lunch, and free million dollar views!
Teahouse view
There are a couple more teahouses further on, all new and in very pretty settings. There are a couple more river crossings as the valley narrows into a gorge and the roar of the water bounces of the cliffs. At the last swingbridge before Dharamshala, there is a hot spring, but it looked to dirty to bother with, the sulphur filling the air.
Under the waterfall
Last bridge before Dharamshala
Home sweet home
The teahouse!
As we approached Dharamshala, the path became a narrow ledge and passed behind a waterfall, in the monsoon season it must be a hard crossing. Then over a little bridge and it was into the Singenge Dharamshala (3280m) campsite. By now, I was feeling the first signs of altitude sickness, my hands and feet were tingling, I had a slight headache, my fingers and certain other extremities had gone purple, to top it all off, my appetite had plummeted. Dharamshala is essentially a campsite, but a couple of women from Meta have set up a very basic teahouse in shelter, we had a wonderful hot milk tea before they packed up for the day. There is a basic stone walled camping shelter (without doors or window glass, but it does have a new roof and there is a timber floor. We cooked some noodles by the teahouse fire then settled down for the night. Jules decided to sleep in his tent, claiming it would be warmer. The night was freezing, there was a tiny amount of snow and it rained, but we were in paradise.
No comments:
Post a Comment