Annapurna Base Camp Trek, Part Two
April 20th, Day Seven:
Jeremy and I wake up to the shrill sound of the alarm at 3:30 AM. We are chilled to the very bone. Cheap sleeping bags, freezing temperatures, and zero heating are not the winning ingredients for a good night’s rest. We strap crampons to our boots, position our headlamps snug around our beanies, grab our trekking poles, and begin our trek upon icy snow in the moon-filled darkness. It is that magic time when it’s not quite night anymore, but not yet dawn. Fingers and toes numb, silence except for the crunching of snow underneath each step. Then, finally... Annapurna Base Camp. We made it. 13,650 feet. It was in complete ruin, devastated by an avalanche only a month ago. Nothing left, but grim piles of crumbled structures that once stood and have since been swept away by a tsunami of snow. We stand and watch the first speckles of sunrise drop on the very tops of the Annapurna range. The leftover shadows gradually slide down the sides of the mountains and are quickly replaced by a sheen of whiteness. The snow wakes to life from the sun, and the mountains do too. Everything comes to life.
April 21st, Day Eight:
After seven days trekking to reach ABC, it is time to head back. The snow is sleeted and slick going down, our feet slide and slip, my knees already sore and aching. Helicopters whizz by, the valley vibrates as they soar past. We cross over rusty and rickety bridges, barely seeming to hold us over the wild river water below. I look over to the other side of the valley and a waterfall breaks apart into an infinite amount of smaller waterfalls. Their separate sounds sync to form a harmonious song of water as they crash down over rock. We brush by porters carrying loads on their backs heavier than you can imagine. The Nepalese are petite in size, but their strength and spirit are unparalleled.
April 22nd, Day Nine:
We approach the mountain village of Chomrong, sticky from sweat, and stop at a German bakery for croissants and Americanos. Jeremy and I are welcomed by a beautiful mountain dog, fur patched with black and tan coloring, and he sweetly sits beside us while we are eating. We soak in natural hot springs in the afternoon daylight by the edge of a river and, for a moment, our worn muscles are soothed.
April 23rd, Day Ten:
I am told it is the second longest suspension bridge in all of Asia. We saw it from the distance, delicately draped across a vast valley, appearing as though it’s barely floating on a few, fragile strings. I shout, “Are we crossing that?!” Yup. We sure are, and we did, with the cheesiest smiles plastered all over our faces. We cross over even more bridges, with the river right below our boots, you can see the gushing of water in the tiny cracks between the planks. Jeremy and I comfortably settle into a family-run tea house in the quaint village of Tolka, the matriarch of the family beautifully adorned in an array of colorful clothes and jewelry. She has a kind face and emanates happiness without even speaking a single word. We have the entire tea house to ourselves, but shortly, a group of Italians show up, rowdy and full of life. Jeremy and I turn in for the night, and the moment Jeremy’s head hits the pillow, he is out cold. The rise and fall of his breaths are steady, deep, and comforting. I overhear the Italians merrily singing “Happy Birthday” downstairs as the night air slowly puts me to sleep.
April 24th, Day Eleven:
Ten years ago to this day, I met Jeremy. My eyes sluggishly pry open as I begin to wake, and he bends down to softly kiss my forehead and whispers, “Happy Anniversary.” We eat breakfast with the Himalayas in the distance; they look giant from here and it’s difficult to believe we were standing under their shadows only a few days ago. I think the body can do practically anything as long as you make up your mind to do it. The trek is simpler today, but there is a muggy humidity hovering, so we show up at the tea house still syrupy from our sweat. I can hear children singing at a school nearby, their happy-go-lucky intonations bring a smile to my face. Jeremy shares a local fermented wine with our guide, Krishna, and our porter, Santosh, who have become our friends during our time together. Krishna suddenly sneaks away and returns with a square cardboard box in his hands. He places the box on the table, opens it carefully, and presents us with a beautifully adorned cake that reads, “Happy 10th Anniversary T + J.”
April 25th, Day Twelve:
As our steps take us across a stone-laid path that blends and weaves through farmlands filled with onions, garlic, cabbage, and wheat, I begin to feel my abounding appreciation for Nepal and its beautiful people. They can live hard lives, but they are not hardened. They can climb the highest peaks over and over again, but they are not weary. I am inspired and energized by the land, by the heart, and by the resilience of Nepal and I will never, ever forget our time spent here, mesmerized in the sanctuary of the Himalayas.
Apa Sherpa, a Nepalese man who holds the heroic honor of summiting Everest more than any other human being, once said, “The true beauty of Nepal isn’t the mountains, but the people who live in their shadow.” If you watch the stunning short film about Apa Sherpa below, you will see the spirit of Nepal.
Cheers,
Tera
