Day 6 - Chame (2700m) to Pisang (3200m) - 14km

Toby Diary

Chame hotel very busy so breakfast took forever to arrive.  We should have ordered the night before or done as Tensi suggested and have breakfast at somewhere less commercial.  Eventually we head off at 8.30 into forest along the river bank.  Everyone a little slow today.  Mark A claims to feel particularly tired but still manages to press ahead of everybody else.

After crossing some very exposed landslides etc we come to where there is a large cliff above us and the path had been freshly blasted out of it.  Only a few moments later amazing mountain views mark the turn of the river towards the west.  An enormous slab, curved to form the valley change in direction, rises at least 1000m above the valley floor, sloping steeply to a razor edge at the top.  I have taken many photos of this amazing formation that is visible all the way from Pisang.  We cross the river at the foot of the slab mountain and climb over a bump through dense forest smelling strongly of pine.  I am ok but everyone else is having a good bitch about the hill.  

              

However, I have a twinge of a headache and it worries me that it could be AMS – surely not this low down?  We may have cracked 3000m but I managed 3100m last year without any symptoms having come straight up from 2700m.  It must be dehydration but it continues to give me a nagging doubt.  Looking back at the slab mountain it is even more dramatic.  It is bloody huge and parts of it have snow on the top, testifying to its height.  The valley is opening up now, almost looks like bits of scenery from True Grit!  Half expect John Wayne to appear.  Semi dried up lake used as foreground for another picture of the slab (must find its proper name).          

At this point in Toby’s diary his pen was hijacked by Nepalese Guerrillas (wearing red stars on their hats).  They wrote this piece of irrelevant text, realised their case was futile, and returned his pen....  Thanks mate.

But they return ha ha!  This time disguised as Yaks. Not the soviet winged things (with red stars on their pilot hats) but the ones that don’t quite say moo but say moo in a foreign language.  So we talked to them and told them their Yak suit was very authentic.  They replied by saying moo in a foreign language and ate more grass.  Cheers Jules!

Stop for lunch in a place that calls itself Pisang but wasn’t.  Set in the open valley, it did have fabulous view though and very fine noodle soup!  The Spanish blokes also turned up here and looked equally shabby – one with a back problem because he says he was dreaming of pretty girls.  All of us have been having wacky and vivid dreams.  Last night mine went from a first person RAF scenario to a director’s eye view of a drink drive video starring Nigel Hawthorne!  Mark A has dream about a cartoon character called Mr Tree.  Apparently the altitude makes vivid dream more likely.

Another three quarters of an hour and we are in Pisang proper (Lower).  We settle into a lodge and walk up to the village of Upper Pisang which is very much a traditional village though it appears to be half deserted and derelict.  The monastery is a shell and the village appears to be populated by the old and a few farming families. Jules, Thorpey and I wander around and show our cameras to some local children and generally take in some rays.  Mark A has a nap.  Feeling quite tired and dehydrated so drink a whole litre treated with iodine and dyrolyte – good for rehydration – and climb into my bag.  Wake up after one and a half hours with headache gone but just a pain in the left eye.  My fears of AMS were unfounded but I still have a cold and a pain in the eye.  It is very cold as well so time to check out dinner.  Jules had ordered the usual for us (or at least Thorpey and I) but dining room very busy so we sit around hearth until a table becomes free.  Excellent Dhal Bhat and noodle soup with a tray of spices to jazz it up a little which keeps Thorpey happy.  Lemon tea to wash it all down and then diary writing till bed.

Reflections on Upper Pisang.  Amazing views over to Annapurna II down to Manaslu and up to Ganga Purna.  Very obvious glacial features all over the valley.  Annapurna II particularly impressive – the size is just amazing and difficult to take in. 

Mark Diary

We met early in the morning in the second floor dining room and found a table by the window from where we could see clearly the green covered mountains that directly surrounded us.  It was cold again and the sun was completely hidden by the mountains.  The air around was full of the condensed breath from about twenty trekkers from a range of nationalities – Swedish, German, Spanish, American – all like us looking forward to a hot breakfast and a start to the day's walking to warm up chilled bodies. 

Today was to be short day and so should have been easy.  However, my body was tired, probably more mentally rather than physically induced.  A restless night did not help.  And now as we headed towards a height of 10 000 feet I was also probably beginning to feel the effect of altitude.  A short hill now leaves me slightly breathless whereas yesterday it did not.   Or maybe it is just tiredness?  Tiredness on hills would be a recurring them from now on, some days I would be feeling strong, others feeling tired.

Our route continues to follow the river.  Up now through fir trees again, all very European.  The paths were soft underfoot, cushioned by the fallen pine needles that lay everywhere and the smell of pine surrounded us.  Like yesterday, it seemed to me that we could have been in England.

Eventually the trees begin to disperse.  We are no longer surrounded by them but they are dispersed around us.  The path has now entered a high valley with a wide flat floor and to the left and right dry barren hills a thousand feet or more above us.  The path follows this valley floor but in front of us are a few neat wooden buildings, the village of Bhatang.  We stop here for lunch, dining on noodle soup in the bright and warm sun nestled in the valley.  We meet another British couple who have sold their home in the UK and given up their jobs and are now 18 months into what was to have been a year’s travelling around the world.  After lunch we continue to walk along the valley floor.  Behind the hills that close in either side are the real mountains.  As the geography changes we see them rising above, snow covered and grand, reaching heights of over 20,000 feet.  These are Kings of mountains and to the locals living Gods. 

After nearly an hour we arrive at Pisang.  There is little here.  It is a collection of buildings, not even built around a main street but seemingly just dropped into the valley at this point.  We stay in one of the first we come to, the largest of the buildings that we have seen to date.  Wooden built, all small rooms crammed together on three large floors.  The stairs to the landing that surround each floor are like ladders rather than stairs. 

That evening we gather in the small dining room.  A dark candle lit room with baked mud walls.  The first in have positioned themselves around the central stove which is heating the room.  Others are sat at the wooden trestles that fill the surrounding area.  The room is crowded and the air is full of the musty damp of drying bodies. It is a mixture of nationalities: Nepalese sherpas and porters, Germans and others.  Steaming food is in front of some and local staff are running around with more.  I remember thinking that, notwithstanding the building outside, built clearly for the benefit of the trekkers, this must have been the way evenings have been spent here for generations; huddled together in a small dark room around the stove with the fact that you have hot food in front of you consolation enough for the efforts of the day. The days we have taken to get here, the darkness of the room and the sense of community from the bodies huddled around the central hearth heightens the sense of remoteness and detachment from the outside world.  And my mind now seems focused solely on the immediate issues of the trek leaving me distanced from western civilisation on every level.