The Annapurna Circuit

see all photos »

Our original intention when we included Nepal in our itinerary was to trek the Annapurna Circuit. We had heard so many great things about it from travellers we had met in the past, sounded like something we should do. Having completed the Circuit, I have to agree that it certainly has to be one of the greatest treks in the world. The scenery is unbelievable, and the route offers exposure to an amazing diversity of Nepali culture. While certainly not a wilderness experience, the current State of Emergency in Nepal has drastically reduced--crippled, really--tourism in Nepal, such that our trek was nothing like the 'Annapurna Circus' that some describe during peak trekking months. Particularly on the first half of the trek, which follows the Marsayangdi River valley from Besisahar to Thorong Phedi, and over the Thorong La pass, we encountered very few other trekkers. While March is usually the second busiest month for trekking (next to October), we usually were the only trekkers in each of the small villages we lodged in. In the larger villages, like Chame and Manang, other groups were around, but rarely more than one or two small groups in each guest house.

The geographical diversity encountered on the Circuit is impressive. The trek starts where the road ends, at Besisahr, which is only 2750 feet above sea level. Here, rice and barley terraces intermingle with fruit trees in a temperate climate. Off in the distance, the snow-capped peak of Lamjung Himal is the only indication that you are approaching the Himalayas. Our first day took us past Bhulbhule and Bahundanda to the very small village of Syanje, where our map showed a hot spring. Unfortunately, the spring was a mere trickle on the opposite side of the river, and was only luke warm after being piped across through a small garden hose. It was pleasant, however, after hiking for a couple of hours in the rain. Here, also, we met our future trekking partners for the first time. Two Americans (Abby and Heidi), a Canadian (Mike) and a German (Bert) had formed an impromptu group before setting off. Unfortunately, Mike turned back a couple of days later with knee problems. Bert was an interesting character, who did not believe that treating water was necessary before drinking it. The results of drinking bad water, dehydration, and a moderate case of Acute Mountain Sickness precluded his continuing over the pass with us. Eventually it settled out that Abby, Heidi (also Air Trekkers, cross reference Abby Heidi on Trip Journal for another perspective of our trek), Stacy and I completed the Circuit together.

The Marsayangdi river valley is quite narrow, with a beautiful blue river cascading over rocks and falls below. As we started so low (2750 ft), it actually took us three long days of climbing before we reached Chame, and our first real glimpse of the Himalayas we came to see. Here, Annapurna II provides a spectacular back-drop, reaching over 26,000 feet. Up to this point on the trek, we were still quite concerned about the weather and the feasibility of crossing the pass. While we had not had rain since our first day, we passed several groups of trekkers these first few days who were turning around, with horror stories of avalanches, waist-deep snow and freezing temperatures. All this was encountered from 8,000 to 12,000 feet. None had made it as far as the pass. We were fortunate to have clear, blue skys throughout, and we pressed on, optimistic that things would clear out if the weather held. After reaching Lower Pisang, we opted to take the less travelled high route to Manang, with a night in Ghyaru. The initial hike up was brutal, but we were rewarded with some of the most spectacular scenery on the entire trek. From the river below, where most people continue directly on to Manang, the Annapurna Massiff is obscured from view by the steep walls of the gorge. By climbing out of the gorge, we were able to see the panorama of Lamjung Himal, Annapurna II, III, and IV, and Gangapurna from Ghyaru, perched on a cliff-like hill at over 12,000 feet. While we were still twenty miles from the peaks themselves, they appeared close enough to touch.

Now able to see the entire eastern extent of the Annapurna Massiff, we could more fully appreciate what we had undertaken. The Annapurna Circuit is, indeed, a circular route which completely circumnavigates the Annapurna Massiff via river valleys which separate three of the worlds forteen 8,000 meter (26,250+ feet) peaks--Manaslu, Annapurna I and Dhaulagiri.

As we climbed up, and behind these peaks, we left the lowlands and Hindu villages behind, now encountering Bhuddist villages more in keeping with the Tibetan plateau. Prayer wheels (even some hydro-powered ones) and Mani walls were common occurances along the trail. At Manang, we stopped in at the Himalayan Rescue Association talk on altitude-related illnesses, and met one of the volunteer MD's working there (Chris Ho) who took us on a tour of their facilities.

Fortunatly the weather was holding, and we didn't encounter snow until after Manang. Sunny days made for spectacular mountain views; cloudless nights at this altitude, with no lights to obscure or detract, make for starry nights beyond description. As we climbed higher, however, temperatures plummeted. Our nights at Letdar, and finally High Camp (15,750 feet) clearly reminded us of some of the luxuries we had forsaken on our trek, not least of which was indoor plumbing. Now that I think about it, even outdoor plumbing would have been an improvement. One of the effects of altidude that few people speak of is the increased frequency of needing aforementioned facilities. The only consolation when making the nightly (hopefully only one) journey outside, usually across the trail, to the long-drop is that the snow and mud accumulated from the previous day's melt would be frozen solid by this time, like everything else.

After eight solid days of climbing, though, we did make it to High Camp. While we didn't really voice our concerns, each of us had, over the previous week, repeatedly pondered our chances of success. First, the weather had seemed the biggest obstacle. Now we were here, on the verge, we knew that the pass was passable, given one more good day. The question now: 'Could we drag ourselves AND our backpacks over it?' Fortunatly, the weather remained good for our crossing, and we made our way to the top. Yes, it was cold. The going was slow, a combination of 3 feet of snow and the rarefied atmosphere. But, by 10:30am we were standing triumphantly at the Thorong La pass, 17,770 feet (5,416 m). Somebody failed to mention that climbing up was the easy part. For the next six hours we hiked down through snow, ice and mud, before reaching Muktinath. After a nights rest, we hobbled up to the sacred site of both Hindu and Bhuddist pilgrimages, where earth, fire, wind and water can be found in one location. (A small source of natural gas provides a blue flame over a running spring).

Leaving Muktinath, we continued on to Kagbeni and the Kali Gandaki river. Unlike the Marsayangdi, the Kali Gandaki is a muddy affair that meanders through a much wider valley, resulting in a barren riverbed with narrow ribbons of muddy water during the dry season. With the Nilgiri mountains on the left, and Dhauligiri on the right, the snow-capped peaks were still impressive, but below the scenery was stark, barren, through Jomson and on to Marpha. Despite the less-impressive scenery, we encountered many more trekkers on this side, as the Jomson Trek is the most popular in Nepal. Things improved at Marpha, however. By this time we had learned to hike only in the morning (in the afternoon the wind rages through the dry river bed, creating a miserable torrent of dust and sand) and at Marpha orchards became a prominent intermediary between the river and the mountains rising above. Continuing down, we passed Larjung, at which point the Kali Gandaki valley is the deepest gorge in the world. With Annapurna I and Dhauligiri on either side of the valley, the rise from valley floor to mountain peak is more than 21,000 feet on either side.

Eventually, we reached Tatopani, with its citrus orchards and hot springs, a well-deserved reward after trekking for two weeks. Here, two paths lead back to civilization. The direct route (following the river to Beni) can be travelled in a single day. It took a lengthy group discussion and some hard thought at this point to convince ourselves to take the other trail, which climbed from 3,600 feet, up to Ghorepani and Poon Hill (over 10,000 feet). We were rewarded with spectacular views initially, and later, marble-sized hail stones which beat us senseless. Amazing how quickly the weather can change in the Himalayas. Surrounding Ghorepani, however, is an amazing rhododendron forest, and late March was an ideal time to see them in full bloom. Walking through forests of trees ripe with clusters of flowers--red at lower elevations, pink as we neared Ghorepani--would have been reward enough, but sunrise from Poon Hill, with Dhaulagiri, Annapurna I, Annapurna South, and Machapuchare spread out before us was a memorable way to end the trek. As we left Poon Hill, clouds moved in and while the weather was fine for walking, it was our last real view of the Himalayas before walking out to Naya Pul. After two-and-a-half weeks in the mountains, with the only traffic being other trekkers, Nepali villagers, and the occasional mule-train, I was anticipating a more joyous reunion with this link to civilization. Instead, arriving at Naya Pul and the road with buses honking and trucks passing, I found myself regretting what was left behind, now that the trek was over.

The post-trek blues were nearly erased by a long, hot shower in Pokhara, and the prospect of dining on something more varied than Dhal Bhat and packaged soup. For the next two days, we made a quest of the 'Pokhara circuit', attempting to sample the wares of each and every bakery in this lakeside town.

Suitably rested, we opted to fly back to Kathmandu. Hard to believe that a road journey taking nearly eight hours could be accomplished in 30 minutes in a slow aircraft. Our arrival in Kathmandu allowed us to complete the application and obtain our visas for India. We had planned to go sightseeing in the Kathmandu valley today, but learned the hard way this morning that on this particular day, it is best not to go outside. Today happens to be Holi--a festival that involves throwing water-balloons and paint on anybody and everybody in sight. We learned this only after leaving our hotel for breakfast this morning. We had less than 50 yards between us and our hotel, but by the time we returned, I had been generously doused in blue, and Stacy was wearing a tye-dye-esk combination of red and blue. For the record, however, I did succeed in wrestling the bucket of blue paint from my assailant and tipping it over his head. I was rewarded with a rousing round-of-applause by all of the on-lookers lining the roofs in Thamel as I raced back to the safety of the Kathmandu Guest House with a blue Nepali in hot pursuit.

JB