Nepal / a dream realized

Author: By Robert K. Sloane, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, November 8, 1998

Page: M1

Section: Travel

We were in Nepal, realizing our dream of experiencing the Himalayas up close without climbing with ropes at high altitudes. We planned a modest and ropeless trek in keeping with our limited mountain-climbing abilities, in December, when the mountains are snow-covered, but free and clear of clouds and not obscured by summer and early fall monsoons. Along with the trek, we were delighted that our plans could include visits to a jungle preserve for wild animals and to ancient cities unlike any others in the world. Nepal, we found, offers a great deal to those of us who are not Everest-climbers, and even nicely accommodates our somewhat fragile, over-50 bodies and capabilities. To top it off, Nepal in December has weather that is delightfully warm during the day -- shorts weather -- but cool at night, requiring multiple layers of clothing for each of us inside our sleeping bags and tents.

Our trek paralleled the Annapurna range, a chunk of the vast Himalayan wall 80 miles wide with 16 peaks over 20,000 feet high. Our first view of the range was dominated by the astonishing Machupachare (Fishtail) -- barely 15 miles away and 20 Empire State buildings high. During the trek, Machupachare was always in our sight, the embodiment of what a mountain should look like -- a single cone of rock covered with snow, dusted with clouds, looming closely above the valley, and surrounded by lower peaks.

From the Pokhara valley, 100 miles west of Katmandu, our four-day trek began as we bused to the beginning of the trail with our trek leaders, porters, and cook. Our leaders were Sherpas -- Ang Nima and Ang Dawa -- both easterners from the vicinity of Everest, with Tibetan origins of language, customs, and religion. The porters were Gurungs, strong local tribesmen who avoid tents and stay with friends each night. The expert cook was from the Rai tribe.

Passing through gentle countryside that gradually steepens, we climbed through lush rice field terraces up the mountainside. We counted more than 100 successive levels of rice terraces from valley to mountaintop. Forests cover the steepest hillsides. Wild poinsettias and rhododendron line the path. As we climbed, people murmured ``Namas-te!'' the Nepali phrase meaning ``I salute you.'' The greeting is accompanied by a nod of the head, with hands folded in prayer position. In the morning and afternoon, children greeted us with ``Namas-te!'' on the way to or from school.

The steep climb is interrupted periodically by cool resting spots, called chautaara, stone platforms beneath giant trees. The platforms are built at exactly the right height for a heavily laden mountain dweller to lean against for a few moments without fully removing the load from his back. The shade is provided by pipal trees, the kind of tree Buddha sat under to gain enlightenment. Chautaaras are built and maintained by individuals as part of both Hindu and Buddhist religious beliefs.

We had lunch under a pipal tree, then passed through tiny villages centered on stone-lined swimming holes for water buffalo. Children walked with us and volunteered short conversations in English: ``Where are you from?'' ``Where is your village?'' ``How old are you?'' ``Do you have any pens?''

The Nepalis we met were open and friendly. Our trek leaders were loquacious and politically aware, eager to talk about their views of the failed leadership in the current parliament. One Sherpa looked for a return of the pre-1991 absolute power of the king to get the country moving again. Another hoped that foreign aid would continue, but with less bureaucratic corruption.

The crew for our trek made camping tasks easy, raising tents before we reached the campsites. In the morning, basins of hot water were brought to each tent. While they prepared breakfast, we tidied the tents. The porters packed the tents while we ate, then dismantled the kitchen to pack equipment and bags for the next stage of the trek.

Our porters carried immense loads on their backs, held in place by a strap around the forehead. As we observed them, we became painfully aware that the picturesque pastoral scene was based on hard manual labor. With no roads through the hills, all needs are met by walking and carrying heavy loads. Household water and groceries must be carried atop the head or on the back, up or down these steep slopes. Millet was being harvested by hand sickle, separated from the straw by pounding on the ground, and spread on straw mats to be tossed into the air to remove chaff. Men prepared the soil for the next crop with primitive plows pulled by oxen. Sari-clad women washed Western-style clothes for men and children at the village water supply.

Nepali homes in these hills are simple rock structures stuccoed with red-orange clay, with hand-carved sills and shutters, topped with thatch roofs. Each has a garden, a haystack, and a pen for goats. Corn hangs high on bamboo struts between vertical poles. Chickens run clatteringly loose, and cows appear randomly, standing along the path. Killing a sacred cow in Nepal, we learned, is punishable by a fine of 20,000 rupees (more than $300) or two years in prison.

We trekked over a ridge hundreds of feet above the stream below. When I dropped my walking stick at the edge of the path, it disappeared immediately. In the bright midday sun, we stopped for a cooked lunch in the dry stubble of a rice paddy. Afterward, we passed a tiny village tea house with no chimney; smoke from a stone stove leaked through the open door and under the eaves. Greeting Tibetan monks in maroon robes, we watched as a train of heavily laden donkeys walked slowly along the trail. We camped on a bluff overlooking the Manaslu range, near a bright orange house. In the valley below, electricity lighted some modest homes at night.

Our trek ended as we descended thousands of flagstone steps from the high ridge. At a campsite on a hill steeply overlooking Begnas Tal, a lake at the base of the mountains, we could see soft clouds drifting over the peaks of the Annapurna range. Soon a boat carried us across the lake on our return to Pokhara.

The jungle portion of our trip began with a ride over a devilishly deteriorated road to the Chitwan National Park, the heart of the jungle on the border with India. This borderland area, the Terai, was once impenetrable because of its deadly rate of malaria. Forty years of reclamation have made the Terai a rich farming area, with large forests and grasslands (once hunting areas for the king) retained as animal preserves and parks.

In the midst of the national park are small hotels reached by Range Rovers, narrow boats, and, as it turned out, by elephants. Where the dirt road ended, our personal elephant, Durga Kali, knelt down to receive us and transport us to the Tiger Tops Tented Camp. We climbed atop the elephant to the howdah, a railed and cushioned box, and marveled as our mahout -- the ``driver'' -- urged Durga up from her knees for the trip through the grasslands. As she walked toward the camp, we grasped the rails firmly and pitched and bumped with the loping, rhythmic motion. After our ride we watched Dani, the trainer, feed his animals football-sized ``elephant sandwiches'' of unhusked rice, molasses, and salt wrapped in palm leaves.

The lodging at Tented Camp was well protected from jungle creatures. On the ridge overlooking the grasslands and the distant Himalayas, tents had double canvas roofs extending well over the sides. Velcro fasteners secured the tent flaps. A separate building with solid walls provided the bathroom. In the morning, we walked to Tiger Tops Lodge, a jungle hotel constructed on stilts, allowing elephants to come up under it, and riders to reach the elephant from a second-floor landing.

Each day, we stepped down to the howdah on Durga Kali for elephant rides through forest and grasslands. In the dense forest, rhesus monkeys leaped from sal tree to kapok tree, using the long vines that hang from on high. Bright scarlet minivet birds flitted through the leaves with lime green parakeets. On high branches were peacocks their long, colorful tails. Luckily, the pythons that sometimes lurk in trees were hibernating.

The grasslands are covered by thick grass, eaten by elephants as they move gracefully through, cutting trails. Some varieties grow 25 feet high, thoroughly obscuring wildlife from view. Our mahout helpfully sensed the presence of animals and spotted wildlife for us. We saw gaurs, wild cattle with spectacular horns that warp their foreheads, and the Asian rhinoceros, one-horned and covered with armorlike skin. Rhinos are making a comeback in Chitwan, thanks to park management that pays relatively large rewards to people who report poaching. Spotted deer with suede-covered antlers proliferate in the park, and we saw tusked wild boar and a small hog deer and heard a barking deer in the distance. Although the legendary Bengal Tiger eluded us during our elephant rides, we saw fresh tiger tracks on the forest floor. An elephant carrying one of our party was slashed on the face and trunk by a tiger protecting its kill, but, despite the tiger's roar, the impenetrable grass kept it invisible to all but the elephant.

Continuing our animal viewing from a boat on the Narayani River, we searched for the marsh mugger, a crocodile that drowns victims before eating them, and the gharial, a crocodile that is harmless to humans, but nearly extinct. Rhinos were bathing at the shallow edge of the river, but the crocodiles were hidden, discouraged from sunning by the coolness of the air.

After our elephant and crocodile expeditions, we feasted at the hotel. Food on the jungle visit, as well as the mountain trek, was remarkably good. On the trek we had morning omelettes, pancakes, oatmeal, tea and coffee, and lunches and dinners of chicken, potatoes, cooked vegetables, and dal bhaat, Nepal's national dish of rice and lentils. In the jungle, the food was more elegant, with table linen, afternoon cocktails, and buffets of western foods combined with Nepali and Indian curried vegetables or rice. During dinner, we could hear the elephants trumpeting in the dark.

For the final stage of our visit, we returned to Katmandu and arranged for a van to tour the city in comfort and view each site on foot. Katmandu teems with activity, with nearly everyone a pedestrian. Huge trucks and tiny three-wheeled taxis are everywhere, but few private autos are seen. The city is booming with settlers from throughout the country, with a large group of Buddhists who moved to Nepal after the Chinese absorbed Tibet.

Our cheerful guide, Arun, took us to Swayambhudnath, an ancient Buddhist shrine or stupa, called the Monkey Temple for its countless monkeys. On a hilltop a giant hemispheric dome commemorates the legend that a lotus emanating a dazzling ray of light once blossomed in the lake that covered the valley. When the lake was drained, according to the story, the lotus was preserved in the stupa atop the hill.

The Swayambhudnath stupa has pairs of painted eyes looking in all directions, a spire of 13 tiers connoting the stages of enlightenment, and an umbrella top symbolizing royalty. A row of prayer wheels, turned by those who circumambulate the temple, surrounds the stupa. Lesser temples share the hilltop -- royal gifts built after 1349, when Muslim invaders devastated the shrines. At the Sitala temple, families brought flowers, duck eggs, grain, yogurt and incense to ward off a goddess of smallpox, said to kidnap and eat children.

At Pashupatinath, the most sacred Hindu shrine, pilgrims and priests worship Shiva, divine protector of Nepal. One of four most holy sites on the Indian subcontinent, Pashupatinath is a site for spiritual rebirth and sacred cremations. Crowds swarm among ancient buildings said to date to AD 477. On the shelflike hillsides of the Bagmati River, sacred stones, buildings, and tombs vie for space. Past kings have sheathed doors and roofs in gold. From high, narrow bridges, we saw pilgrims bathe and do laundry beneath stone pyres, called ghats, where daily cremations take place surrounded by marauding monkeys. Arun told us of hospices adjacent to the ghats, where the faithful come to die.

The Katmandu valley includes three ancient kingdoms within a few miles: Kathandu, Bhaktapur, and Patan. Each town spreads out from the king's palace on a central square, furnished with temples and public buildings.

The royal square of Katmandu was being repaired with a new flagstone floor. The king's palace with its pagoda-like pink brick tower stands above a spotless white replica of the National Gallery of London. Arun took us to the Royal Kumari's house across the square to view a 15th-century tradition brought to life. The Kumari, a virginal incarnation of the Hindu goddess Durga, is 10 years old. She was chosen as Kumari in a test of girls two to four years old by being left in the dark with bloody buffalo heads. Today, she lives a sheltered life, bathed by attendants and clothed in a red robe and ritual jewelry. Arun called out a request for an appearance, made an offering and the Kumari briefly showed herself at a third-floor window. Her charmed life will last until she reaches puberty, at which time another little girl will be selected.

In the medieval town of Bhaktapur, the royal square is only one of several squares that open the densely built city. Facing the square is the old royal palace, now the National Art Gallery and city offices, and the Palace of the 55 Windows, built in 1697 to house one rare piece of glass and 54 ornately carved wooden windows. The two buildings are separated by the Golden Gate, built in 1753 with golden representations of deities and sea serpents. Behind are several palace courtyards; one enclosed the king's bathing pool with its plumbing sculpted into golden serpents. Nearby Potter's Square is the center of clay crafting, with hundreds of pots, saucers, urns, jugs, and flowerpots set out in the sun to dry. The original center of the town in the 8th century was Tachapal Square, still a thriving market surrounded by Hindu monasteries, ancient temples and the National Woodworking Museum.

Perhaps the loveliest of the royal squares is in Patan, now a suburb of Katmandu. We first saw the square on a misty day, from the fourth floor of a restaurant. The pink brick and tile buildings of the royal palace lined one side of the street; the other side was crammed with a variety of temples and statues. The stacked pagoda roofs of the Newari temples loomed high above. The scene was enlivened by rickshaws, motor scooters, and street merchants chanting their wares to entice passers-by. Walking through the square, we admired the buildings and stopped by the tall column with the gilt statue of King Yoganandra Malla, with a hooded, golden cobra lurking behind him as if entranced.

To arrange our trip within Nepal, we dealt with Himalayan Treasures & Travel, 3596 Ponderosa Trail, Pinole, CA 94564 (800-223-1813 or 510-222-5307; e-mail: govindsh(at sign)himtrek.com). We took the group tour called the Royal Trek, which included the trek through the mountains, an English-speaking guide, the sardar (Shepa leader), porterage, cooks, camp helpers, air travel from Katmandu to Pokhara, land travel, permits, taxes, food, sleeping, dining, and and toilet tents, for $520 per person. Between Pokhara and the Royal Chitwan National Park, where no air travel is available, a van was provided for $70 per person. At Chitwan, we stayed at the Tented Camp and at Tiger Tops Lodge, where all elephant rides, canoe trips, and meals were included with the accommodations, at $1350 per person each night at the Tented Camp and $225 per person each night at the Tiger Tops Lodge. The cost for the return flight to Katmandu was $72. The company also arranged the Shangri-la Hotel, but the new Tiger Tops Pokhara Hotel is now open; both offer a room for two with breakfast for $130. Similar accommodations and costs were arranged at the Shangri-la Hotel in Katmandu before and after the tours.

The Royal Trek and a stay at Royal Chitwan National Park are also offered by Himalayan Travel -- World Adventures, 110 Prospect St., Stamford, CT 06901 (800-225-2380 or 203-359-3711; e-mail: worldadv(at sign)netaxis.com). For seven days in Nepal, including the Royal Trek, the price is $695 plus $136 for travel costs. For an extension of the trek into the Royal Chitwan National Park, the cost is $395 for two nights at the Gaida Wildlife Hotel, or $660 for one night each at the Tiger Tops Tented Camp and Lodge, plus $144 for travel costs.

A slightly different package including a rafting trip is offered by Snow Lion Expeditions, Oquirrh Place, 350 S. 400 East, Suite G2, Salt Lake City UT 8411 (800-525-TREK or 801-355-6555; e-mail: info(at sign)snowlion.com). Snow Lion offers a 10-day tour, including the four-day Royal Trek, a night in Pokhara both before and after the trek, a two-day rafting trip with an overnight camp, and two days in Royal Chitwan National Park at the Tented Camp. The all-inclusive price is $2,000 plus air transportation costs of $147.