What a day. Beautiful, of course, as we followed a rushing river upstream, climbing through its valley, clambering over landslides, crossing rope (steel) bridges, rising and falling but mostly rising. I had warned my guide that I would be slow, and I was. The advantage of travelling by myself came home to me as had I been with others I would have tried to keep up, or been tired and frustrated and generally not enjoyed it at all. As it was, I went at my own pace with nothing to prove. I am confident that I was the slowest person in Langtang today, if not beyond.
I nearly perished on the way to our first stop, Lama Hotel, which is a settlement or cluster of teahouses rather than a single hotel. It is set on the bank of the river and comprises about a dozen teahouses, all set with flowering vines and advertising hot water, etc. Relief at arriving here was profound, but unfortunately my slow pace and the unexpected number of people on the same trip (perhaps also forced to this period as I was by the Dasain holiday), there was not a single room available. We asked at teahouse after teahouse, and the answer was the same. I saw others setting up tents, but I didn’t have a tent. So we had no choice but to keep going to the next stop, the Riverside Hotel, about an hour away. It took me more than 90 minutes as I was completely exhausted, 90 minutes of slow misery. Not that it was particularly challenging, but I am just not a good hiker on anything other than the level, on which I can go for hours and hours on end. The one upside was that I met a rather lovely pair of Israelis were were also very tired, though less so than I. The good thing is, it has shaved an hour or so off tomorrow’s walk. The bad news is, tomorrow is, anyway (I believe) the toughest day. Also we are now at around 2700+ metres. It’s quite minimal: a couple of rows of rooms, each equipped with two beds and no insulation; an outhouse over the river with a remarkable view of a snowclad mountain to the east (reflecting the changing colours of sunset), and a dining room with a very hot woodburning stove where everyone gathers after dark.
It has been beautiful. The river is a vivid blue-green such as you only see in true mountain torrents and it is fed by glaciers. Every teahouse we have passed has had a small rubber pipe coming up from the river and releasing a constant stream of glacier melt.
There were rockslides and landslides all along the way, which made me think of the earthquake. Many of the villages and teahouses were relocated after 2015 as Langtang generally was one of the most devastated areas. Looking at the valley we are going up, with its steep sides rising high into the sky, I can believe it. Aside from the temperature (icy) clambering over the loose, barren sand and rock does make one feel like a hobbit in Mordor.
On some of the highest cliffs were beehives, hanging metres long, making me think of a scholar I once worked with who made a film about the sea people of southern Thailand, and their collection of wild honey from the tallest trees. I wonder where the mountain honey here in Nepal comes from – such cliffs or perhaps more accessible ones?
Now I am in the dining room, with its fierce wood stove, warming up after the chilly late afternoon portion of the walk and drying some clothes. It is friendly and comfortable but I am not terribly inclined to talk, so I will move onto my Kindle.