himalaya - october 12-25, 2006
since words, my customary refuge, have taken refuge somewhere that is effectively inaccessible to me lately (in which, of course, there is more meaning than i can unpack right now), my experience of the himalaya--as overwhelming, ice and snowbound rocks--will remain enigmatic, if not entirely internal for some time.
(barest hint: in the Langtang region, i stood on the summit of a 4984m--that's over 16 000 feet--mountain, Tsergo Ri, just to catch a view of the REAL himalaya, like Lhangshisa Ri, one valley away. think of the Rockies covered in green....then pile another 1 or 2 ice-covered mountain ranges on top of them.)
but the shape and texture--any semblance--of that experience, however, would have been impossible for me without the enormous energy, compassion, patience, kindness and senses of humour of my tireless guide, Bahadur, and his best friend and my porter, Bimi. they happily babbled away in their native Tamang language ahead of me on the trail (except where there was some risk of serious mishap, in which case Bimi insisted on following me). their chatter became just another layer of the harmony of wind, leaves, insects and birds that kept me company for 14 days. but their devotion to my comfort and safety never wavered. my gratitude for their effort is boundless.
of course, there were also the people of the mountains living out their lives filled with cows, yaks, stone-and-mud huts, as well as the endless parade of porters (men and women) bearing enormous loads of supplies for the string of "teahouses" that form small clots along these ancient trails, loads clinging to their backs and slung from thick bands around their foreheads. and then, the women--for it was usually, though not exclusively, women--who prepared my meals. sometimes, because of the cold mornings, i was honoured to sit immediately in front of the immaculate stone and mud stoves in their kitchens with elegant tops for holding all manner of pots and pans while they prepared my breakfast (oat porridge with apple, milk coffee and fresh chapati with peanut butter), and sometimes they did so with small children nestled against their backs in broad, faded pieces of cloth.
so for now, all i can offer of my experience of the himalaya is this:
rhythm
there are as many
as there is
one
(all others are encouraged to visit Nepal. i'm on good terms with a spectacular guide.)
(barest hint: in the Langtang region, i stood on the summit of a 4984m--that's over 16 000 feet--mountain, Tsergo Ri, just to catch a view of the REAL himalaya, like Lhangshisa Ri, one valley away. think of the Rockies covered in green....then pile another 1 or 2 ice-covered mountain ranges on top of them.)
but the shape and texture--any semblance--of that experience, however, would have been impossible for me without the enormous energy, compassion, patience, kindness and senses of humour of my tireless guide, Bahadur, and his best friend and my porter, Bimi. they happily babbled away in their native Tamang language ahead of me on the trail (except where there was some risk of serious mishap, in which case Bimi insisted on following me). their chatter became just another layer of the harmony of wind, leaves, insects and birds that kept me company for 14 days. but their devotion to my comfort and safety never wavered. my gratitude for their effort is boundless.
of course, there were also the people of the mountains living out their lives filled with cows, yaks, stone-and-mud huts, as well as the endless parade of porters (men and women) bearing enormous loads of supplies for the string of "teahouses" that form small clots along these ancient trails, loads clinging to their backs and slung from thick bands around their foreheads. and then, the women--for it was usually, though not exclusively, women--who prepared my meals. sometimes, because of the cold mornings, i was honoured to sit immediately in front of the immaculate stone and mud stoves in their kitchens with elegant tops for holding all manner of pots and pans while they prepared my breakfast (oat porridge with apple, milk coffee and fresh chapati with peanut butter), and sometimes they did so with small children nestled against their backs in broad, faded pieces of cloth.
so for now, all i can offer of my experience of the himalaya is this:
rhythm
there are as many
as there is
one
(all others are encouraged to visit Nepal. i'm on good terms with a spectacular guide.)
posted by allan at
10:08 p.m.
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