Walk in the mountains

By Hitesh Karki

 We waited for the plane to arrive but for the weather. While half of the group including myself had already landed in this beautiful place, half were supposed to come in the next flight and hence the wait in the runway. The clouds would not just allow the flying machine pass through it and with flying much dependent on the vision and dexterity of the pilot rather than on technology; we had no option but to wander around the airport keeping a constant close look at the clouds. Waiting, alongside, were a group of Russian tourists. They too had some of their friends arriving in the same flight.

The trip to the mountains had started in a memorable note. After having breakfast, we began walking. It was magnificent. The breath of fresh air and clean open environment was a harsh reminder of the fact that life in the city, in most ways, had very little to offer even though one always harped about 'development'.  I walked watching hundreds of trekkers pass by, some en route and some on their way back, who hardly failed to say 'Namaste' once the distance got closer. And with each group of trekkers were a group of porters who walked almost silently carrying huge luggage on a doko. One could only imagine the strength of their shoulders and the neck for often times the sheer size of it all appeared almost too much to carry even for a taxi back in the city.

We rested for a night in a place called Phakding which rested along on the bank of one of the tributaries of 'sapta-koshi'. There were a couple of Australian couples, a retired army general from Indian army with his grandchildren and a group of Slovak students sitting around the big dinner table in the restaurant of the hotel. We all had managed to introduce each other while we all waited for dinner sipping 400 rupees per bottle beers.

And as we got to know each other better, soon everyone began sharing their travel experiences which seemed to cover almost two thirds of the globe. And the funny part of the whole conversation, well at least to me it appeared funny, was that except for four Nepalis including me, everyone else had already been to this place before. The Australians, as they told us, have been here almost six times and they had succeeded in bringing 25-30 people residing in the suburban area of Perth over the last twelve years. It was almost as if the realization dawned upon us that Himalaya is not just some numerical value of 8848. And while Jim began explaining the trail over the spread out map on the table, we realized two things. Nepal is not just the two ends of Mahendra highway and there was much more to know about this country.

Next morning we walked up to Namche bazar.  The place somehow took me by surprise for I had this picture in my mind that Namche lay atop a hill from where you could see Everest. Rather it lay on the slopes of a hill almost like a baby in a mother's cuddle. A heavy-duty meal and a light snap, we readied ourselves for a walk in the trail encircling the Namche. After couple of hours we found ourselves in one of the most beautiful places that I have ever been to, the Khumjung village.

The village of Khumjung nestled in the lap of divine Khumbila Mountain, as I learned, was also called as Edmund village. The village with its picturesque settings was perfect, to say the least. As my colleague travelling put it, if any Nepali were to be directly air dropped in this particular village and were told that this was one particular place in Switzerland, there were chances that the person would tend to think along the same lines. It had almost everything that any human habitat would look for. One had to, almost forcibly, take a pause and think for a moment that here was a place completely inaccessible by roads and yet had each and everything that one could think of vis-à-vis development. And yet there are many places in the country accessible through every possible means (highways/airports) and yet life continues at its basic minimum. There was a lesson to be learnt although I am not sure what exactly. 'Commitment', for one, seemed to cross my mind.

By the time we returned back to hotel in Namche it was almost pitch dark. The day had certainly been an eye opener in many ways. With a plan of sipping our morning coffee at the Everest View hotel, we all headed to our respective $10 / night rooms.

The thirty six hours experience had already turned out be the one to carry along for a long time. Also begging was a prospect of even more exciting tomorrow.

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