Annapurna: Setting forth

Dec. 19, 2008

When I began planning this whole big trip around the world, something about Nepal called out to me stronger than any other location in the world. I wanted to see these mountains, the Himalayas, these natural monuments of the gods.

As a child I always found peace in the outdoors. Climbing to a high tree limb was like a prayer to me. I offered sacrifices to the wild in the form bloodied knees scraped on boulders and cuts from thorn bushes.

I was always off in the woods, scouting rivers, building forts. The forest was my sanctuary.

When I was 15 and as awkward and angsty as can be, my parents shipped me off to Utah for a two week Outward Bound course of rafting, hiking and canoeing. I joined a group of 18 others my age, many of whom were juvenile delinquents who were taking the course as remediation for minor crimes they had committed. The courses are meant to inspire individual confidence and to teach teamwork and trust.

For two nights toward the end of the trip, each of us kids were left alone in the desert where we were meant to reflect on the lessons we had learned during the previous days. I spent my time writing in my journal and basking in the sun listening to echoes from the canyons and the Green River far below. That solo experience reawakened the joy I had found in nature as a younger child. It was return to grace.

Now, nearly a decade later, I would be setting off alone into the Himalayas on what felt like a familiar journey.

I was nervous planning for the trek. It was late in the season, maybe too late. The most popular time for trekking is October. By December, the temperatures drop around the Annapurna range and many of the inhabitants of the villages in the hills start to abandon their lodges for the winter to take up jobs in Kathmandu and elsewhere. Thorung La, the highest altitude pass in the world which connects the 220 kilometer circuit, is in danger of being snowed in and impassable.

I also was getting mixed information on whether or not I should get a guide. Both Lonely Planet and another book on trekking in Nepal strongly discouraged trekking alone, especially as a female. I talked to one agency that caters specifically to female trekkers and got information about all the supplies I would need. The agency suggested that I hire a guide-cum-porter for the trip.

But talking to other trekkers around Pokhara, the resounding message was that the path is easy to follow, the Nepali people are kind and helpful, and there are many others trekkers on the route.

I was torn. Two nights before I was slated to leave, this particular agency ready with a guide for me, I thought about the trip, about how I would be spending almost three weeks with this one person. I hadn't spent that long with anyone on my trip. On the night before leaving, I decided I would go it alone.

On Nov. 30, I boarded a local bus to Beshishar (760 meters above sea level) followed by a jeep to Khudi (790 m) and set off on the Annapurna Circuit. That first day, because of a late start, I only walked a short distance to the small village of Bhulbhule (840 m), named after the sound of a small spring nearby. I was excited but still anxious about what I was undertaking. I also felt quite alone. I was the only trekker staying in the lodge. But then I looked out the window of my tiny room and saw this sight (see photo). The river, the forest, the mountain... they were like an answered prayer.