Morning Prayers

Modern sleeping sacks are very constricting. It is impossible to roll over without taking the whole sack with you. When I crawled into my sleeping bag, I was fairly toasty and ready for sleep. A few hours later, I realized I was not sleeping well at all. My feet were very cold. It is also true that it can be very difficult to sleep at high altitudes if you are not acclimated and we were high enough that I could have been suffering a little altitude sickness. In any case, I was wide awake by the time Belief and Atit came politely rapping at our chamber door. It was still quite dark outside, even though I think that they let us sleep in, until at least 5 am.

I was eager to get back into the warm bath, so I jumped up and pulled on my swimming suit hastily. It was a most remarkable coincidence that I had a suit with me at all. The day before I packed for Nepal, a friend had sent me a box of books to donate to the children at the village school. She included pencils and stickers, which came in very handy, and surprisingly, she sent me a new swimming suit that she had bought in the wrong size for herself. I would normally never pack a swimming suit for Nepal. Pools are hard to come by and I am suspicious of the water quality. But the suit was there in my hand, and so I threw it into the case. I had no idea that the my adopted family would be taking me on a trip up to the hot springs at Tatopani.

Tania needed a little extra time for her morning ablutions, so the boys and I went ahead of her to the baths. As we approached, I heard the deep, sonorous harmonies of "Om mani padme hum." At the far side of the tub, beneath the spigots, were three monks each with a sacred white head covering. They chanted all the while as we disrobed, the boys stripping to their underwear. I was a little concerned that my feminine flesh would be disturbing to the monks but the boys didn't appear to have any reservations. Tania followed the chants and soon found her way to the tubs well. She peeled down to a bikini and entered the water as discreetly as possible. We stayed very quiet so as not to disturb the morning meditation. I settled in on the right side of the tub and watched enraptured as the sun, rising in concert with the melodic chants, began to lighten the sky behind the mountain peaks. As our surroundings brightened, to my amazement, I watched the monks transform completely. It was soon clear that these were not men at all but women with very deep voices. Nuns, perhaps, I thought. A few moments later I could see that the sacramental vestiments they wore on their heads were actually white plastic bags meant to keep their hair from getting wet.  Sacred and holy all the same, but still a very good reminder that events are not always as they appear, especially across cultures.

The View from the hot springs

Looking at the View

I'm sitting outside our guest house in the early morning after our bath.  We are having milk tea and waiting for breakfast.  Here you see me writing the Lyrics to 'A Froggy Went a Courtin,' for JR to teach his students.

Our gear is packed and ready for the hike back down.  Tania and JR are standing in front of the kitchen building.

This is what it looks like inside the kitchen.  Actually it was very dark inside, but my camera has illuminated the view for you.

Tatopani

Goodbye, Tatopani.  Goodbye, Spectacular View.  I hope I will come this way again someday.

Brilliant Night at the Top of the World

I had wrapped my forehead in a red bandanna to keep the sun from searing my scalp on our climb. Heat and exertion caused me to peel down to an undershirt, but soon as the sun fell below the mountain peak, a distinct chill settled into the valley. I quickly pulled my long sleeved shirt on again.

The last slow steps of our journey were made at twilight. We came to a little plateau with a small cluster of homes at its edges. Stumbling up out of a rocky field, I noted that there was no railing for the steps up to our guest house. It would have been ridiculous for a hand rail to exist at the end of such a long precarious hike, but still, I wanted it to be there.

The guest house was sparsely decorated and it looked very clean. It reminded me of hostels I have visited in the Swiss Alps. There was some concern when we were back in Kathmandu that we should have our own bedding because there might be lice and bed bugs. When I saw the place, I had no such concerns. We dropped our sleeping bags and clothes on the wooden beds, which were covered with a thin cotton filled mattress and a comforter. Then we returned to the dinning room where we spread ourselves out comfortably on the long benches. It was dark and quiet outside. Aside from the six of us, there were no other guests.

TN and JR ordered dinner for us. Butter cookies and barley wine came out immediately, followed by steamy fried puffy pink shrimp crisps! This is something like a shrimp potato chip. At the top of the world, a thousand miles from the ocean, in a place where every consumable had to be carried miles up on someone's back, I was greatly impressed by the home made shrimp crisps. After snacks, we had another excellent meal of dal bhat, which kept coming until we were stuffed.

It was an incredible high, literally and figuratively, as we were at 2,400 meters or 7,874 feet. TN admitted he wasn't sure that I would make it, but I did and I was feeling triumphant. The altitude made me feel a little light headed and, except for the ankles and knees, my body felt fantastic.

TN and JR had been telling us as we climbed the mountain that the hot springs were medicinal. 'People came from all over Nepal to be cured of many ailments, including arthritis and all manner of skin diseases,' they said. JR told me that his wife, who had stomach problems, made a pilgrimage to the hot springs once a year. She felt much better for about 8 months, and then she would start to plan another trip. Any arthritic person who was able to make the climb to the hot springs would certainly think themselves cured simply by virtue of their arrival, I thought. As for Tania and myself, the idea of jumping into a public bath with skin diseased people, possibly lepers, wasn't all that appealing, but we decided to see what the situation was before we got too worried about it.

After coming all that way, I was eager to see the hot springs, even in the dark. To my surprise everyone else was willing to wait until morning. Tania was so tired that she decided to go to bed even though it was only 8 pm or so. JR, TN, Belief and Atit accompanied me over to the baths.

The night sky took my breath away. It was a moonless night, filled with billions of dazzling stars. Even in the southwestern US, I have never seen so many stars so clearly. The last time that I saw stars that clearly was when I crossed the Tibetan Plateau. Though it was dark, there was enough starlight that we could see where we were going. JR offered his arm so that I wouldn't trip on the stones and in a couple of minutes we arrived at three stone baths with stone spigots in the traditional shape of an open crocodile's mouth. Far above us was where the natural hot springs originated. By the time the water traveled down the pipes to the spigots it was steamy but comfortable enough to stand under for a short period of time.

Similar Crocodile Water Spigots

No longer concerned that skin diseased people might have just recently vacated the bath, I decided that I wanted to soak my ankles and knees in the hope that my legs would be able to carry me down the mountain the following day. I removed my shoes and socks and rolled up my pant legs and climbed the icy cold steps to the bath. No one would climb in with me at first, but then Atit decided to wade a little as well. The water was a muddy yellow color. I could not see through it. My feet stepped carefully on the smooth stones while I held on to the wall. All was quiet except for the sound of water spilling into the bath. The brilliant stars reflected in the steaming water. I could have stayed for hours! Alas, I decided that I could not to make everyone stand out in the cold waiting for me. So, after ten minutes, I climbed out, dried my feet on my shirt and put my shoes back on. When I got back to our room, Tania was already breathing deeply. The boys said they would knock on our door at 4 am so that we could really take a bath.

Climbing to Tatopani

About 2 hours from Dunche, and 9 hours from Kathmandu, we finally reached a place where vehicles could no longer travel. Ahead of us were rocky treeless mountains and beyond the mountains the radiant snow covered peaks of Tibet.

From the road a dusty path took us to a hanging bridge that must have been very recently created. I have been across bridges that had no netting and wooden slats rotted through. Where there were holes, a flat rock bridged the gap. This bridge however was very sturdy. At this time of the year animals could be herded through the river below, but in the rainy season, the bridge would be the only access to trade with civilization.

Just beyond the bridge we encountered an old chorten. It was inscribed with prayers for the deceased. The proper way to show respect is to pass the chorten to the left circumambulating clockwise just as you would travel around a stupa.

Suddenly, the path took a sharp, steep turn to the right and we began to climb the rocky steps. It wasn't too difficult at first. I took my time placing my feet carefully so that I wouldn't slip. But soon I felt unstable in my knees and ankles. Even though I was carrying nothing but a walking stick, the climb was very difficult for me. I am at least 40 pounds overweight, which everyone in Nepal generously offered to cure with vegetables, herbs, work and yoga. I stopped often and about a half hour into the climb I decided to take my pulse. It was 170 beats per minute.

About 10 years before this journey, I broke my ankle in three places. I still have a metal plate with screws holding it all together. When I broke my ankle, it was on a most ordinary hike in the Maryland woods, nothing like these gravel covered rocky steps clinging to the side of the mountain. A simple misstep and I had to have 4 people carry me out of the woods strapped to a board. "What would happen if I broke a leg up here?" I wondered out loud. JR told me that if I broke my leg on the mountainside that they could not help me in Dunche, they would have to take me all the way back to Kathmandu. He said that they would call for a helicopter. That would be fine for me, I thought, somehow we would figure out how to pay for the rescue, but what of the thousands of people who lived up in these hills?

I know that everyone was concerned about me. They never raced ahead even though I think it would have been easier for them to climb more quickly. They were especially worried when I began to feel dizzy, and they asked if I wanted to stay with one of the families living on the side of the hill. Could I do it? Could I climb all the way to the top? Yes... yes, I was doing it. One step was not too much to bear and what is a journey but one step at a time? JR sang folk tunes behind me and I focused on the glittering rocks and the beautiful terraces, and in that way we climbed. Although it was difficult and painful, the pain would be but a moment and the beauty would be just as fleeting. I was being honored by my extended family with this most precious gift of seeing a place that only a tiny fraction of the world will ever see first hand.

It takes a native 1 and 1/2 hours to climb that mountain. It takes a fit young American 2 hours to climb to the top. It took me 4 hours, but I did it. Life is not a competition, not even with ourselves, it is a journey made up of precious moments, each one to be savored as it is presented.

The village by the river at the center of the picture is where we began our climb.
By the time we arrived, it was already dark.