25.10.09 (What day is after Coldcoldday? Paradiseday!)

Pisang-Manang (3500 m)

Paradise on earth; gasps in astonishment

Didn’t quite sleep well last night as the temperature dropped below zero. My roommate Prof. Gan Che coughed a bit and woke up several times.

In the morning we climbed up some gentle slopes and then we walked into what I believed is the most fabulous part of our entire trek. We found ourselves in a valley with snowy mountains all around.

God’s brush strokes across the bare rock face

White loaf is peeping again

A shot in the shade

Trekkers A, B, C, D and E

We were in a broad basin of the upstream Marsyangdi, originating from the Tilicho Lake. This valley was several km across ending on both sides at the foothills of mountain slopes rising into two ranges of snow-covered mountains, some with glaciers. On the left were Annapurna II, III and IV, the Tilicho Peak arranged in a range and on the right were Mt. Manusla, Ngadi Chuli, Himlung Himal, Ratna Chuli and Chulu Peak in a continuous series. In fact these mountains are quite far apart and isolated too, not in a range; a quick map check will show.

Here the Marsyangdi upstream, only about 6-7 m in width, cut its wavy course from the snow fields on the horizon through interlocking v-shaped valleys ahead of us. The crystal clear river was a series of rapids and cascades over bed of only rocks. In the cold autumn air, idyllic wooden bridges stood in silence across the river, waiting for farmers and trekkers to pass.

An idyllic wooden bridge

Goats A, B, C, D, E, F,G

A daily ordeal

Marsyangdi river valley I

Marsyangdi river valley II

Marsyangdi river valley III

Hidden among the short trees and thorny red and yellow shrubs were shallow ponds of turquoise water. Fertile farms on the banks were flat and broad, with yaks, mules and horses grazing leisurely in the noon sun.

Yak, yak, yak, yak...

Far away from the banks there was a belt of dark green pine trees just below the rock-faces of the high slopes that curved and then rose into the snowy mountains against the deep blue autumn sky.

Farmers’ cottages were made of boulders and stone slabs with thatched roofs of straw or reeds held down by rocks. Out of gloomy and wonky windows hanged bunches of yellow corns, sun-dried or smoked for consumption in the coming winter months when this whole valley would again be buried and hidden in snow.
Along the way there were timeless glacial moraine deposits now eroded, weathered and gullied into weird features. Huge boulders remained precariously lodged on slopes and pillars. This basin was in ancient times a glacial trough. Those mysterious glaciers had disappeared in the corridor of time leaving behind this valley deposited with glacial sediment and debris.

Remnants of glacier deposits

Standing in the cold wind, my thoughts zoomed in and out of space and time and finally they merged with millions of dreams locked in the high mountains cloaked in snow, in the deep soils covered by grass, in the fleeting seasons gone with the wind!

Now and then well-to-do farmers rode by on horses sending their children to school, leaving behind dusty trails.

Whichever you looked, the scenery here was simply awesome and amazing. It drew gasps of astonishment. So those of us who were usually last, Jamie, Chang, Mee Poon and me took pictures in all directions as we walked in that poster for 2 hours or so before we finally reached its end at Manang at about 4 p.m. It did seem that we had just walked out of a dreamland but still in a poster of nature.

We are pleasantly surprised by the fact many senior Manang folks could actually speak Malay. Some could even speak some Hokkien and Cantonese. Under a government-sponsored program some 30 years ago they traveled to sell trinkets including necklaces, rings, gems and stones given free by the then government, and their famous kukri knives in Singapore and Malaya. Some even went to Hong Kong then. They spent their nights thousands of kilometers away from home on five-foot ways in local towns. Now, they are like my lost brothers. It suddenly dawns on me that all men are brothers lost. One world one dream!
Manang is the biggest of all towns from Besishahar, with two rows of shop-houses running along both sides of a un-surfaced walkway several hundred meters end-to-end.

Manang walkway lined with shop houses

Here there are two doctors. There is a rescue operation centre. Some of the many guest-houses even provide pastries and cakes and internet facilities. Other modern services like post office, pharmacy are also found.

In the cold evening I took our five porters out for a hot drink or some liquor if they wished. We ended up in a dim stall selling food and drinks to locals.

Gurung porters: Gagan, Hom, Ram, Reshan and Chet,  1 unmarried and 15 kids altogether to the other 4. 

15 minutes later, looking out of the wooden door we saw a hoard of some 30-40 horsemen riding by. That was a prelude to some horse racing events, our porters said.

Before the entourage could disappear at the higher end of the walkway trekkers, tourists and locals, many with cameras, began to jostle for best front positions along the walkway so that they could take photos of the anticipated races.

Shortly, from a curve in the upper end some 20 horses began to charge down the walkway in thick dusts with their riders swaying their Tibetan long sleeves as if not holding on to the reins. Some riders shooed and whipped their horses furiously to urge them on. Two or three agile riders performed the ultimate bending their bodies backwards and turning sideways to touch the ground.

Here they come , the Tibetan horsemen!]

After a few races a flock a hundred or more well-groomed hairy goats were shooed onto the walkway from behind a shop-house, guarded by 2-3 dogs. They weren’t racing but we all clapped hands to urge the animals on.

Hairy goats, all well groomed

Somewhere behind the Yaks Hotel where we are staying there are permanently snow-clad mountains and glaciers. In the evening while a half moon was still high in the pale grey sky, some peaks glowed in reddish orange as the sun set. I was alone on the spot to capture the scene in photos.

Himalaya mountains glowing in the setting sun

The substance is in the void

Most of us have disappeared into guesthouses with internet facilities and serving delicious cakes. All are in high spirits seeking solace in the prospect of no need to walk tomorrow, our first rest day.