Kyanjin Gompa up the valley then back to Langtang
The morning, just like all the previous ones, is a presentation of the unique beauty of the mountain world. The blue of the sky is not simply blue, it is the blue of a lapis lazuli flickering in the light. The mountains are not simply mountains, they are monuments, frozen in time, piercing the sky like upright warriors. The air is not simply air, it is a distillation of all imaginable flavors ...
But the mountains have their own Jekill and Hyde nature. For a moment they show their beautiful side, the splendour of colours and shapes, a moment later its other face appears, that of deadly ferocity, the suddenly erupting threat. As a small human being, one would do well to always remember its Janus face nature.
But not today. Today the mountains show their beautiful face, that of splendour and untouchability ...
Upps – did the beauty of the mountains (or my poetic streak???) overwhelm me so much that I inevitably ended up in kitsch? It seems so. Sorry, People, sometimes you just can't help praising the early morning in the most beautiful colours …
No Kyanjin Ri
So, apart from the beauty of the morning, there are a few choices to be made. Although the sleep was long and good and I soon feel like Biblical Samson before his enemies cut his hair off, I have no intention of climbing up a single metre towards Kyanjin Ri. It's enough when whole armies climb up like a single train of lemmings. Why? Because it's in all travel guides, because it's in trek planning, so it's done the this exact way.
Not us. The train of the lemmings, which I have obediently taken part in so far, has been enough for me. So, as we discussed yesterday, we will follow the river upstream. So to where the Tibetan border would soon be approaching.
Up the valley - along the river
We're all alone very soon. The village remains behind us and with it the last remnants of civilization.
We have to cross a long scree field, almost like in Langtang, but this time caused by streams and gullies, which bring down an enormous amount of water after the monsoon. The course of the river also looks like a single huge desert, but it is the result of the same phenomenon. I would like to see the river swelling in spring, the masses of water rolling down the valley with roar and rumble, sweeping everything away – stones, sand, boulders, rocks, earth, trees. That must be a hell of a spectacle.
Advertisement for "High Spirits"
Now, in the deserted area, the moment seems ideal for a bit of advertising. Which of course doesn't fit at all to the beauty of the surroundings, but we are in the 21st century – without PR and advertisement nothing works at all.
Then a threefold hurray for my trekking organization, my guide Sitaram and his - for a change - quite fit customer.
The Thai monk
But there's a strange figure showing up. A monk, loaded with a thousand objects of equipment, from tent to stove. He is Thai, hardly speaks English, but what we understand is that he is alone in the mountains, mostly spending the night outside and preparing his own food. Again one of those unbelievable guys you can meet up here. We'll run into him a few more times.
So we return slowly and comfortably, not forgetting for a moment the view of the surroundings. The mountain peaks, which on this blue morning look so inviolable, so enraptured, as if they were the guardians of the world.
You have to rediscover them again and again. To see how relative everything is. We. So small. So inconspicuous.
And then, where a blade of grass can be discovered, there are yaks, mothers with their young. Calmly palpating the ground. They find food where none seems to be. Crazy.
Back to Langtang
After lunch we decide to walk back to Langtang. The planned stage in the tour guide pretends that this part will be done tomorrow, but then until Lama Hotel.
That seems to be a bit much to us, especially to Sitaram for understandable reasons. Above all I increasingly think of my left knee. After all, two years ago I couldn't even walk along the river Limmat for half an hour without feeling severe pain.
So today it's the ultimate Lakmus test for my knee.
But everything is fine, no pain. We now know the route and all restaurants and tea houses and Chörten within a radius of one hundred kilometers and are greeted almost like old acquaintances.
No room - or the wrong one
On our second visit Langtang is almost home, so to speak, we know our way around and look forward to another good room in the hotel. But far from it. Regardless of our reservation, the landlord has once again allocated the room to a another group of guests, and now assigns us to his sister's hotel which seems to be under construction.
At first sight no problem, but the corresponding toilet triggers an angry reaction in me, and when the promised warm water of the shower is also missing, I'm losing it and we move to another establishment.
Also not quite what I expected. The warm shower is located in a small hut quite apart from the hotel, but the hot water generated by solar power compensates for all other inconveniences.
The combination of the eating clientele in the dining room – as always a particularly interesting phenomenon – is again different this time. A couple from the Czech Republic, who found their way to this trek via Facebook, are two wonderful discussion partners who know so much to tell that we completely forget the poor innkeepers who have long since had sleep eyes. Sorry, guys!
P.S. Matching Song: Jace Everett - Bad Things
And here the journey continues ...
