Ghandruk trek Part 2. A long day.

Unenthusiastically, we stood in the dining hall at 7:30 AM ready to go, the rain thrumming steadily on the roof. Ang Gelu decided to wait to see if the rain would ease.

There was a slight decrease in the intensity of the downpour and we were off. The drenching resumed almost immediately. Alistair and I deployed umbrellas, but the remainder of the party trudged along in rain jackets or draped in cheap plastic sheets. Because of the slippery conditions, Ang Gelu decided against taking the foot trail and instead led us along the recently established dirt road which snaked its muddy way along the side of the ridge. I wasn't sure whether it was an improvement. The drumming of rain drowned out conversation and time telescoped curiously as we plodded along robotically. What was time anyway? Did it matter? It seemed to me that unless you were at the beginning or at the end, you were in the middle, and if you were in the middle, it really didn't matter where as eventually you'd reach the end. There was no point in tracking the passing of time; it wouldn't get you to the end sooner. This I learned in Nepal, a stark contrast to my typical western time-obsessed modus operandi.

The leeches were out in full force, gallivanting about on the sodden road in search of victims. Ang Gelu had armed us with small sacks of muslin filled with salt to ward off them off, which felt like clutching garlic to ward off vampires. It seemed effective – one touch of the salt and they would fall right off. But the little bastards were FAST when they sensed blood and we stopped constantly for ankle checks. Today however, we were veterans at this game. There was a sense of camaraderie at every sucker detected and removed. Alistair was hell-bent on videoing one of the engorged beasts, provoking a great deal of banter on the subject. It helped pass the time.

At a stop at a guesthouse in the mist for some much appreciated hot drinks, a toddler shyly peeked out from the kitchen. From my bag, I drew some bubbles and blew her some. Immediate excitement. Running off to tell mama needed no translation. Her infectious and innocent joy lifted everyone's spirits.

A cow stood at the side of the road. It was quivering in the downpour, miserable, on its last legs. In a touching gesture of compassion, Lhakpa took the plastic sheet keeping his head and pack dry and draped it over the wretched beast, gently picking off some engorged leeches from its head. Almost immediately, the cow perked up and started moving along the road. It kept us company all the way to the next village where Lhakpa ensured it found shelter. 

At our lunch stop, the sky began to lighten and out of the gloom appeared verdant hillsides of forest and terraced fields with waterfalls tumbling down valleys, swing bridges across streams, and villages bright with a kaleidoscope of flowers and prayer flags. 

Terraces being ploughed and planted with rice, and a crop of corn below.

We also observed some other vegetation....

Soon after our stop, we reached the village of Landruk, perched on the eastern side of the Modi Khola (river) valley. On the eastern side at about the same elevation, Lhakpa pointed out a destination for the day, the twin town of Ghandruk. It didn't look terribly far.

A colourful and neat guesthouse in Landruk

Ghandruk is that little patch of white on the ridge about 3/4 of the way left. Far below is the Modi Khola.

Unfortunately, the river - the Modi Khola which flowed directly from the Annapurna glacier - could scarcely be seen far below. Shortly after leaving Landruk, the trail dropped precipitously towards it in our first real experience of thigh quivering Nepali down. 

Meeting some goats on the descent. Still can't see the river....

Down, down down...there are no switchbacks

After an eternity, we reached the Modi Khola, swollen and silty with runoff. The Nepali up started directly from the swing bridge. By then, it was mid-afternoon and we had been on the trail for about 7 hours. The clouds lifted, the sun appeared and the temperature spiked. Alistair later reported that we had dropped some 2500ft from Landruk. That meant an equal distance back up again....We all groaned. Some inwardly. Some not. Time to tough it out, one step at a time, grinding upwards.  Tara put her head down and got on with it, uncomplaining. Tenaya looked positively murderous. I skipped on ahead with Ang Gelu to avoid the fireworks.

A half hour staircase later, the steps vanished into a steep road cut and we scrambled up to find a line of jeeps waiting next to a roadhouse. Over glasses of cold lemonade, it transpired that this was the new road up to Ghandruk, currently closed due to a landslide, hopefully due to open soon. "Would you like a ride?", Ang Gelu asked the girls. Tenaya almost wept with gratitude. Unfortunately, I think he must have been teasing, because, after our break, we crossed the road, picked up the stairs and kept climbing. My bribery strategy was looking a little bit shaky....

From the roadhouse, we could see our first glimpses of mountains at the head of the valley.

Our party was joined by a local dog which tagged along with the group for the climb. We ended up picking up several of these canine companions along the way. They were friendly and seemed to enjoy the company and occasional ear scratches and belly rubs. Our observation of dogs in Nepal is that they are nowhere near as pampered as their Western counterparts. They were often to be seen in the busiest of thoroughfares, looking quite dead and belonging to no one obvious. We only ever saw them fed leftover white rice, so why they weren't actually dead was a mystery to us all. 

Where we had come from - the village of Landruk is directly across the valley on the left, and Pothana is on the ridge somewhere to the far right.

Some indefinite time later, after some indefinite number of stops to "admire the view" and some indefinite number of steps, we reached the sign saying we had finally reached Ghandruk. Hallelujah! 

Looking tired, hot and sweaty with one of our canine companions

We turned the corner expecting to see a picturesque Gurung (the tribe that lived here) village and saw.....another long staircase. That ended with....another long staircase. Then a helpful informational sign:

Then, to a  chorus of pained groans,  another set of steps. Nine hours after we left Pothana:

At our guesthouse, there were more steps to our 4th floor rooms (with en suite! and functioning wifi!). The description of this 'easy' trek ("suitable for all ages from the very young to the elderly") pegged the Pothana to Ghandruk leg at 5.5 miles, I distance I had judged doable with minimal teen whining. Alistair's tracking program suggested over 11 miles with 3500ft elevation gain and loss. We reckoned the shorter distance must have been as the crow flies! However, speculation ceased to matter when we reached the deck in the early evening light.

Wow!

Annapurna South 23,684 ft  - about 17,000ft above us

Tired, but jubilant