Kali Gandaki: a road less traveled

We returned to the airport Thursday morning hoping that the flight to Jomson was on, but it was canceled again due to continuing winds in Jomson. And because of unusually late snows, the road to Jomson and Lo Manthang--in existence for only six years--was closed, so most guides were telling their clients there was no way to get there.

A last look at Machhapuchchhre, 22,943'

But our guide Namdu was from a village near Lo Manthang, our ultimate destination, and he improvised ground transport, starting with a three-hour taxi ride to the town of Beni.

Judy and Namdu making travel plans at Beni

The accumulation of taxis and jeeps awaiting fares made me think of the ancient  trading route between China and Nepal.

Beni

From Beni, a jeep took us to the village of Ghasa, another rural transportion hub, and yet another brought us to Jomson, where we spent the night.

Marketplace at Ghasa

Jomsom monastery

A 20-minute flight ultimately turned into 9.5 hours over mostly unimproved (a euphemism) roads up the Kali Gandaki Valley that cuts between the Annapurna and Dhaulgiri ranges of the Himalaya. I found that the trick to enduring the trip was to let my body ride with the bumps like a rag doll while keeping far enough from the window to avoid a concussion.                          

The closure of the road was a silver lining to our trip though, since it led to a close-up encounter with local villages and spectacular scenery.

At one point we were in a gorge deeper than Grand Gulch in Utah. Many caves have been dug into the cliffs and were used either as residences or for meditation. Namdu said the "big lamas" sometimes still come to the caves to meditate for 1-3 months, sometimes a year, during which time only one person is allowed to bring food and see them.







The small town of Jomson is the gateway to the Upper Mustang, the former Kingdom of Lo, which until 250 years ago was part of Tibet. The local language is as close to Tibetan as American and British English. Upper Mustang is basically what Tibet used to be; Namdu said that though he is a Nepali national, culturally he feels Tibetan. Only a limited number of foreigners are issued permits to visit Upper Mustang, so we felt very fortunate.

In the morning we woke to a stunning view of the 23,000 ft Nilgiri peak.












Reality set in when the "bus" we were taking upriver arrived and fueled up.

It's actually an all-terrain vehicle, and we continued bouncing up the wide gravel Kali Gandaki river bed, back and forth across and through the rushing water. Since the new road was closed, this was the only way to make progress, unless you were a hardy trekker and wanted to walk or ride a horse. Namdu said that before the road was built, he had to walk 13 days leading a horse to get supplies from Pokhara.

Five sure-footed deer that normally frequent higher altitudes for some reason were by the river.

At one point, a group of people were conducting a burial, perhaps a "sky burial" where the body is left to vultures.













The bus dropped us off at the side of the river, where supplies were being stockpiled until the road opens. The next step in the journey was to climb the pack horse trail about 1000 feet to the village of Tsarang on top of the plateau.

At about 11,000' altitude, the climb to Tsarang was a grunt, but on arrival we had a welcome meal of dal bhat (rice, lentil soup, and vegetable curry) and tea at one of the lodges that have sprung up to support the tourist trade.

We felt we had entered another world and another time.

Meanwhile, Namdu had arranged horses to take us to the village of Lo Manthang, where the king still has a palace (he spends the winter in Kathmandu). Because of the snow and mud, it took 3 hours instead of the usual two. We arrived in the last faint light of day, the only outsiders in the Kingdom of Lo.

Chorten marking boundary between Tsarang and Lo Manthang

Pokhara: Nepal, at last

The Kathmandu airport finally opened Saturday evening, and on Sunday at 5 a.m. we got a call from the desk at our Doha hotel asking if we could be downstairs in 10-15 minutes. We were prepared, and later that morning were on a flight to Kathmandu, where the airport was insanely busy catching up on four days of canceled flights. Our plane had to hold for most of an hour for traffic, then wait on the ground for a parking stand. Clearing immigration took 1.5 hours, and we waited 2.5 hours more at the baggage carousel before giving up.

Kathmandu baggage claim

Escape from baggage bardo

Per directions, we were at carousel 2, but bags had earlier come in at #4 before the latter conveyor broke. So as it turned out, our bags had been sitting in a pile in a corner of the baggage room. 

Who's in a hurry?

Having escaped (metaphorical?) baggage hell, we arrived at our Kathmandu hotel near midnight and collapsed. Next morning, back to the much calmer domestic terminal for a short flight to Pokhara.

Though Pokhara is Nepal's second largest city, it carries a small town feel sitting on the edge of Fewa Lake. We took a small rowboat over to see the temple of Tal Barahi on a small island, then to the other side of the lake to hike 1100' up to Shanti Stupa, one of 80 world peace pagodas in the world.

The hilltop site offered an expansive view of the Himalayan Annapurna Range, with Pokhara by the lake below.

Paragliding is popular with tourists. 

Walking down the back side of the hill, we came across some locals, including this woman gathering kindling.

We came out in a decidedly untouristy part of town to visit a cave-turned-Hindu temple (no photos allowed) and an unspectacular waterfall that empties into it. 

As with much Hindu religious art, this statue of Ganesh outside the cave was pretty colorful. Though Nepal is said to be mostly Hindu, many people blend it with Buddhism and the iconography of both are seen side by side.

We caught a taxi back to the lakeside part of town for lunch. Across from the restaurant, a group of women were having great fun playing drums and dancing in a women's pre-nuptial wedding celebration. The men raised a ruckus of noise in the streets later on.

Patience and flexibility seem to be the watchwords for this trip. Our flight to Jomsom Wednesday morning was cancelled due to winds, which, given the 8800' elevation of Jomson and its little 1700' runway, is fine with me. This guy seemed to have all the time in the world.

We took advantage of the unplanned extra day in Pokhara (actually not extra, since we arrived a day late) to do some paragliding. It was a beautiful clear day, and the panorama of the Himalayas was spectacular. Each of us did a tandem ride, which means sitting in the lap of someone who knows what he's doing and just taking it in. Judy's pilot seemed to have a bit of a rough day.

Judy just made it to dry land

One way or the other, tomorrow we're off to Jomson and the ancient kingdom of Mustang. Since Mustang was only recently opened to outsiders, I'm not counting on internet. Stay tuned though, there should be some great photos.

Doha: all the king's horses

The delay of our flight to Nepal was a disguised blessing. How long had it been since we'd just hung out for a morning, lazing in a hotel room? Free hotel, free food, courtesy of Qatar Airways. And this afternoon we walked over to the architecturally stunning Museum of Islamic Art, one of the finest museums I have encountered.

The building was designed by the renowned architect I.M. Pei and sits at the edge of the water looking across at the skyline of The Pearl in Doha.

9th Century bowl

Astronomical treatise with eclipse diagram, 1479

Jeweled falcon

he Book of Fixed Stars by Abd al-Rahman al-Sufi was an attempted synthesis of the most popular classical astronomical work of the time, Ptolomy's Almagest, with indiginous Arabic astronomy, or anwa. This copy dates to 1125 a.d.

After a thorough saturation of art, we went to the Souq Waqif, an recently rebuilt old-style market, the only one of its kind still in existence. On the way, we came across an assortment of ninja-like window washers on the QNB bank building.

Expecting a tourist experience, we were pleased to see the market occupied mostly by locals and offering a wide assortment of shops. One street for herbs and spices, one for caged birds, one for clothing, one for rugs, and so on.

This is one of several gentlemen who wait with their wheelbarrows to transport loads of goods to customers' cars.

In Doha for another day (the Airbus blocking the runway in Kathmandu was nearly ready to tow away),  we wandered out in search of the Falcon Souq, a marketplace of falconer's supplies. Since it was Friday and everyone was off at mosque, we could only look in windows. Turned out the shops had falcons too.

Across the street from the Grand Mosque, we ran across the royal stables, home to the king's race horses, and were invited to show ourselves around.

On the Corniche, a waterside promenade around West Bay, we had a good view of The Pearl, an artificial island filled with residential skyscrapers. It's the only place in Qatar where foreigners may own property, and is expected to house 45,000 people by 2018.

Dhow framed by  the skyline of The Pearl.

Saturday, and though progress had been made toward moving the disabled airliner at the Kathmandu airport, it was not enough yet for the airport to open. We passed the time by visiting a crafts market on the museum grounds and taking a walk on the Corniche. Breezy and warm, it was a pleasant day for a stroll.

On the way back, Judy was delighted to discover these camels. Given their proximity to the royal palace, I'm guessing they belong to the king as well.

Doha was more than a stopover on the trip. Let me explain: When boarding the elevator at our hotel the other day, I hesitated because, when the door opened, the elevator was occupied by a man dressed in a traditional thawb and his wife in a full burka. I didn't know if it would be appropriate for me to intrude, and made some hand gesture about the elevator going up or down. The woman, smiled with her eyes--the only part of her visible--and said, "Going up!" 

For many in the Western world, Islam is a mystery and a contemporary source of fear, and certainly, like other fixed teachings, it has been perverted. But walking among the people here, I came to understand that what seems strange is just a set of customs different from my own. Who knows if that woman as a girl didn't look forward to wearing a burka as a sign of womanhood and devotion to her religion? Many exhibits in the museum likewise carried a sense of deep devotion and love for God, dare I say, more profound than what often seems a superficial spirituality of the West. So just like the new appreciation of Christianity I gained in open-hearted Assisi a little more than a year ago, I now "get" Islam.

Jetting there is half the fun

Things worked pretty much as planned--up to a point. The 13.5 hour flight from DFW to Doha, Qatar went surprisingly quick with two movies, a couple of meals, and two hours of sleep. We had between us one of two open seats on the B-777, so Judy was able to lie down and get a pretty good rest.


A mixup in the reservations resulted in my seat costing slightly more, so I got a complementary hotel room for the 10-hour layover. I managed to get just a couple hours of sleep;  my body still thought it was mid-afternoon (10 hour time difference from NM). Judy rested well in one of the sleeping rooms at the airport; here, male and female areas are separate.

The arrow on the hotel ceiling pointing to Mecca was a reminder that you are in a different world.

Not Nepal

On Wednesday we boarded the Qatar Airways flight to Kathmandu for a 4:30 a.m. departure. About 40 minutes short of landing, the pilot announced that the Kathmandu airport was closed and we would be stopping in Ahmedabad, India, for fuel, and then returning to Doha. It turns out that a Turkish airliner had gone off the runway and it will be some time before the Kathmandu airport reopens.

Oops

Ahmedabad India

Back in Doha, I was now running on 5 hours of sleep in the course of two days. After the necessary paperwork, we were given a hotel where we slept for a blissful 9 hours. We more or less have gotten adjusted to the time zone, waking to this morning's pre-dawn call for prayer from mosques all over the city. As of this post we're still awaiting word on the Kathmandu airport status. Apparently Nepal does not have equipment big enough to move the crashed airplane. At least we'll get a chance to go to the Islamic Museum here in Doha and maybe have other unexpected adventures. Stay tuned.