Chapter Seven: The Hike to the Tea Garden
Day Two at the Annapurna Eco Village: We took a longer practice hike, this time to a neighboring village across a big valley. We had seen this village from the highest vantage point of the Eco Village property.
The Village Across the valley
Hari said it had the stone steps that I must practice on, since much of the Himalayan trail system is made up of uneven stone steps set into the mountainside, sometimes almost vertically.
We headed off on the pitted dirt road that led from the Eco Village down into the valley. I was relieved – surely Hari had seen how clumsy I was on the goat path along the steep drop of the top of the mountain, and now put me on a road where I was less likely to fall to my death. But even the steady downhill pace of the road, as it wound past farms and fields, became tedious. I was tiring after only an hour of easy walking! This didn’t bode well for the days to come.
At one point we passed a sign for the Eco Village, high above us. It pointed up a very steep goat path. I hoped against hope that it would not be the trail we would take to return to the heights after this morning’s walk down the valley and up the other side. We continued down, down, down past small clusters of homes, humble huts without signage that were, in fact, local stores, often bearing the name Adhikari, that of our hosts both in Pokhara and the Eco Village. The women that we passed all wore the Nepali sari, or other colorful traditional dresses. They were beautiful in their brilliant colors, and completely comfortable in their hard-working rural existence to be either barefoot or in flip flops.
Beautiful Nepali Dress
My feet were encased in high-tech Vasque hiking boots, with moisture-wicking socks. And already I could feel a blister forming on my left foot.
Our road began an upward direction once we found the bottom of the green valley. Now as we climbed resolutely upward, I really began to feel the growing heat of the day. I tried to focus solely on the spectacular views before me.
I prayed that our destination, a tea house, would appear soon. Instead, Hari turned off the wide road onto a series of stone steps. They were uneven. As they wound up and around the other side of the valley, they became steeper and steeper. (I would later realize that this was "Nepali flat" - that steep means something far more vertical.)
Practice Steps
We found ourselves on a rough stone “highway” traversed by school children, local residents, and farmers…It cut through the terraced farmland, granting us closeup looks at how the terraces are still ploughed by teams of oxen bound with wooden yokes, pulling rough wooden ploughs behind them, as has been done for thousands of years.
Hari stopped to chat with many of the residents. Clearly he was a known entity. His brief stops allowed me a little time to huff and puff my way up these stairs and try to catch up. I never really did – eventually Hari disappeared out of sight and Rob lingered behind to make sure I made it up the ever-steeper slope. Now my lungs were really screaming. I was still recovering from bronchitis. I had just started taking altitude sickness pills that morning, preparing for the ultimate height to come.
Finally we arrived at the summit, at the destination of this hike. The teahouse was a stone farm where we were served lemongrass tea, grown on this mountainside, and baked corn kernels, not unlike popcorn.
Approaching the Tea Garden
Other hikers passed by and paused to speak with us as we sat in the shade and enjoyed our repast.
Two young ladies from a university in Norway had hiked all the way up from Pokhara that morning, barely fazed by the steep climbs and thin air. They told us about their university project in which they are studying the effects of the caste system on treatment of the disabled. A German couple breezed by, whom we recognized from the Eco Village. They were headed now to another mountaintop where an Australian camp awaited them. I felt really humbled and embarrassed by my slowness, my shortness of breath, and my general weakness. At this point we were the oldest people on the trail (that would not continue to be the case). I explained weakly to Hari that I’m not usually like this, normally I’m strong and not creeping along like a snail. He simply smiled and said, “Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.” I would hear that a lot in the days to come. As we turned around and began the walk back to the Eco Village, he recounted the story of the tortoise and the hare. I admired his positive outlook.
Hari chats up the owners of the tea house.
Two young ladies from a university in Norway had hiked all the way up from Pokhara that morning, barely fazed by the steep climbs and thin air. They told us about their university project in which they are studying the effects of the caste system on treatment of the disabled. A German couple breezed by, whom we recognized from the Eco Village. They were headed now to another mountaintop where an Australian camp awaited them. I felt really humbled and embarrassed by my slowness, my shortness of breath, and my general weakness. At this point we were the oldest people on the trail (that would not continue to be the case). I explained weakly to Hari that I’m not usually like this, normally I’m strong and not creeping along like a snail. He simply smiled and said, “Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.” I would hear that a lot in the days to come. As we turned around and began the walk back to the Eco Village, he recounted the story of the tortoise and the hare. I admired his positive outlook.
I did not die. I huffed, I puffed, I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, until my lungs were gasping for air and I needed to sit down. I felt defeated. How on Earth was I going to attempt to trek in the Annapurna Circuit if I couldn’t even get up the mountain path back to the Eco Village?
Suddenly, two little Nepali girls appeared out of nowhere.
They didn’t speak English, but made it clear that they were going to help me get up and keep going. Hari chatted with them and said they had just finished their grade three and grade eight exams. They looked too small to me to be that old, but then, the Nepalis are not very big in general. I stood up with their help, one pushing and one pulling, with Hari and Rob helping to hoist me up off the ground. Soon I was on the trail again, making my way ever higher, with the girls putting their arms around me at times, pushing at times, gently leading me with their hands. They found sweet berries that they popped into my mouth as we ascended. Rob took photos of them. I am convinced they were angels sent to keep me moving beyond my physical and psychological limitations. They stayed with me all the way back up the mountain to the Eco Village, where their brother was working in the kitchen. The only English words they spoke were “Sweets?” and “Chocolate?” at the end of the hike. I nearly kissed the ground when we walked into the village.
I stumbled into our room and crashed, falling asleep with my clothes on. Rob, I later learned, had unearthed a Snickers bar and took it out to the girls to share, as a reward for getting Grandma up the mountain. They were delighted.
I slept for a few hours before seeing Hari again at dinner. I apologized for my slowness…again, his mantra was, “slowly, slowly catch the monkey.” Each day he simply commented that I was getting better and stronger. From your mouth to God’s ears, Hari! His patience was immense, as I was a very slow monkey. Thus ended the two days of practice hikes. The next day we would begin the actual trek...I couldn't wait to get out on the trail.
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