Or At Least Sharon Does....
A fresh new start and today's goal was to reach yesterday's desired destination (I was slightly afraid to see how many inches it was between start and finsih).
Although it's October the temperature in the valley is very tropical and the scenery lush and green, filled with rice plantations, banana plants, and the maddening cry of locusts. Just the act of putting your pack on causes a steady stream of sweat to drip from every pore in your body but once you get into the rhythm trekking is actually quite relaxing and pleasant. That morning we occupied ourselves by learning Nepalese, starting easy with numbers 1-10 and eventually making our way to phrases. We, of course, got lost along the way but this time it was in a giant plateau full of rice fields. It was only natural that as we made our way down the steep, muddy path that I, in my Reef flip-flops, would find myself sliding down the hillside and covered with mud, only to hear the echoes of laughter coming behind from Mark and Reb. In all honesty, a rice field is a true labyrinth as we meandered and weaved our way through. Fortunately for us the Nepalese are genuine and kind and everytime we made a wrong turn on the narrow, narrow path they would kindly shout Nepalese (indiscernible to us) while franctically waving their arms and pointing us in the proper direction. And naturally, I would be the one to fall off the 2 foot high, narrow, narrow, path into the rice crops. But, this time the sounds of laughter were emanating not only from Mark and Reb but all around me from the Nepalese field workers.
As we finished crossing our first bridge on the journey, our numbers increased by two. To join us were two local boys from the village of Shyauly Bazaar and, yet again, we were told we wouldn't make it to our desired destination. We decided that we'd try and follow the boys for as long as possible. Good thing too because what started as an easy trail along the river quickly escalated to rock climbing! Our simple path disappeared into the river and we had no choice but to climb up and over the cliff edge. Normally I would be delighted and find the task to be simple. However climbing with a 14kg pack in wet, slippery flip-flops is a whole nother story. I literally had to plaster myself against the rocks to counterbalance the weight of my pack and its best friend, gravity. The real challenge was the footing and handholds because though my pack is more skinny than wide, it is also long so it extends above my head and below my butt. This meant when we were going up I couldn't tilt my head back so I was unable to see where to put my hands. I simply felt around blindly and pulled myself up/lowered myself down on the decline. Eventually it was too dangerous to use my slippery sandals so I had to do the whole thing barefoot...ouch! Needless to say I made it to the bottom, cuts and scratches but nothing that wouldn't heal. As darkness began we succumbed to the notion that we would have to find a place to sleep and soon. Thus, we continued on with the locals and they showed us the one and only guest house in their village. As it turned out the guest house was also the home of the Himalaya Rescue Dog Society and the kind German man running it had loads of rescue stories for us. Exactly what you want to hear prior to visiting the same locations where many have perished and never been found! In the end, I guess it was good as we'll definately be more on edge while going over the pass.
