From Syabrubesi to Lama Hotel
Sometimes it's better not to know what lies ahead.
There is the danger that you might throw in the towel before the start and pull yourself into a corner. But as I said – thank God there's not much in life predictable. As I have experienced now and then. In India . Laos. . Myanmar. Ladakh So many unexpected experiences whose renunciation would have been painful.
Anyway, the day starts positively, with a blue sky, fresh spicy air and a light head after ten hours of sleep. Sitaram looks at me a bit sceptically, his gaze lies above all on my backpack, which rather points to a stay of several months in the wilderness than an 8-day trek.
He might be right.
First acquaintances
The first acquaintances are already formed at breakfast, of course still in the style of "where from, where to, for how long..." A Thai couple is sitting next to two young men, as it turns out from Mexico and Slovakia, but both living in Australia. We will see each other again often - inevitably.
First Time in Nepal? The inevitable question that will accompany me for the next few days. And my answer always meets raised eyebrows. Sometimes restraint is difficult.
The daily plan - a pious wish
A steep stage to start. According to an iron rule for trekkers and hikers, it is advisable not to place the so-called “king's stage”, ie the most difficult and demanding stage, on the first day. As it turns out in a couple of hours - a pious wish.
We will be following the river valley all day long, mostly in the shade of the jungle, and we will have to climb a thousand meters to reach our destination Lama Hotel. At first sight this seems hardly to be a big problem, but later it will become clear that plans rarely correspond to reality.
The Start
And then the backpack is checked one last time before starting. It feels fine, at least for the first two hours. That it will weigh like tons within a few hours seems unthinkable at this glorious moment.
Shortly after Syabrubesi we cross the first suspension bridge, a bit proud of the fact that numerous suspension bridges in Nepal were built and financed by Switzerland. In contrast to the bridges on the last trek, which were not yet steel structures, they look very stable. The wonderful swinging, on the other hand, remains. Which also seems to please the column of other trekkers with the same destination.
The train of trekking lemmings on the suspension bridge and up the valley
My guide Sitaram and me on the suspension bridge
The first steps up to the cold evil mountain
The first few kilometres are a quiet, really pleasant walk, everything seems easy and carefree until the first steep slopes appear.
Climbing them always means overcoming high steps, which is considered an unpleasant experience even in the Alps. For the first time, the pulse jumps to over 150 beats, but quickly calms down again after the worst has been overcome.
Overcome? No way! Now a competition starts with between ever worse and steeper steps with the combination of muscles, lungs and heart, with growing advantages for the steps. Panting and gasping for breath (and stopping again and again), I carry the damn rucksack, this unfortunate part, up the path, close behind me Sitaram. Probably close enough to be able to catch the sprightly (?) old man in case of a weakness attack.
I have to admit that I'm really worried about how I'm going to manage those endless crazy steps with my knees down. Is it all a matter of will? I don't know it. But man is capable of all kinds of things when pride is involved.
After all, every few kilometers there is a restaurant where you can first recover, and secondly, eat or drink something.
Bamboo Restaurant
Then Lunch at the Bamboo Restaurant, I order a vegetable soup and a Black Coffee (which will give me the first real stomach problems afew hours later).
A young pretty lady sits down at our table, we get to talk (Sitaram finds that he never had a customer talking so much and addressing everybody), a habit that I inevitably acquired during my solo trips.
It takes time before the inevitable question of "where from" arises. „Switzerland“. „Oh, and where from exactly?“ „Zurich“.
Sitaram finds it hilarious that we have been talking in English for half an hour, although we both come from the same place. She travels alone, telling us about long trips, including the Way of St James. A very interesting young lady.
Steps and donkey caravans
It's not surprising that after lunch it doesn't get any better and I'm constantly overhauled. In fact, I'm not really out of the woods, everything is now pure agony.
Basically, I could lie on the sofa at home or enjoy spring on the terrace, but no, it has to be a damned trek to prove that I'm not as old as my soon-to-be birthday claims (which I really don't want to talk about).
Apart from the effort of the damned steps and the weight on the back and the thunderous pulse, the path is a real pleasure. We are still in the jungle, mostly in the shade of the trees, which can relieve a lot of stress.
The rucksack, however, – a decision against the usual hiking rucksack and in favor of my travel backpack – seems to have been less stupid than long feared. It doesn't feel bad at all, besides the weight of course. At least a small consolation.
The pace becomes shorter, the breaks longer, after all there are countless birds and animals (monkeys!) as well as other attractions to observe.
Every few minutes we cross long caravans of fully packed donkeys. I keep them in vivid memory. They are the only possible means of transport to carry the tons of food, equipment and everything else up the valley.
However, the lower part of the track is under construction; it looks as if a road will soon lead up the valley.
Beautiful gnarled old trees grow over the path... and every few meters a donkey caravan crosses us
Beehives
One of the special surprises are the Beehives, hanging verically on the steep walls. They are built by the Cliff Honey Bees, a uniqueness in the world of bees.
On the youtube there are numerous documentaries, where you can see how daredevil men climb up to collect the honey once a year.
This is quite a madness considering that these are not harmless bees, but big black critters who are not happy about the visit and the theft of their treasure.
Beehives - harmless from afar, quite dangerous-looking up close
Rain and a fully booked room
Less than half an hour before arrival at the stage destination – rain. It just has to be that way to finish this day. Thanks to our rain capes we reach the Lama Hotel reasonably dry.
Something stupid has come up there, though. Despite a previous telephone announcement, our room has already been taken. Probably it has to do with the fact that we needed almost 5 hours instead of the usual 6-9. The lady of the house probably assumed we were lost.
We explain to her in several languages that this is absolutely unacceptable and that she should find a solution. So she does, and I have a room with an American guy, who, as it turns out, will be responsible for a terrible snoring concert.
Peaceful evening, less peaceful night
The evening is peaceful and fun with our temporary friends from Thailand and Australia, and what a surprise - we are the last ones to finally go to sleep shortly after nine. We only find out later that the common room also serves as a dormitory for the guides and porters. Sorry guys!
A very unpleasant, if not surprising night is waiting for me. The pulse is racing, the system is probably desperately trying to figure out what's happening to it. So only short episodes of sleep, interrupted by heartbeat and snore attacks of the American and a bloated stomach that does not want to accept the supply of food and drink at all ...
P.S. Matching Song: Black Honey - Headspin
And here the journey continues ...
